Chapter 36: Birth

 

Monday evening after they crossed the Green, Pershing called the platoon leaders together. “Rough stretch ahead,” he said. “Once we pass Names Hill we head into the mountains to find the Bear River.”

“For how long?” Mercer asked.

The captain pushed his hat back, baring his forehead. “’Bout a week. Need to send scouts ahead. Otherwise, we could get trapped in a canyon.”

“Don’t you know the way?” Abercrombie asked, thumbs in his suspenders.

“Trail ain’t marked,” Pershing said. “Greenwood Cutoff is new. Don’t know the best way through the mountains.”

“I’ll go,” Zeke volunteered.

Pershing nodded. “You’ll be in charge. But we need enough scouts to relay with the main company.”

“Hold on,” Abercrombie said. “You’re putting a boy in charge?”

Pershing squinted at Abercrombie. “Zeke led the folks left at Ash Hollow till they caught up with us.”

“Why ain’t you leading the scouts?” Abercrombie demanded. “If it’s so all-fired important.”

“I’m staying with the wagons.”

“Wouldn’t be because your wife’s near her time, would it?” Abercrombie asked. “Putting her ahead of your command, maybe?”

Pershing ignored him. “Who else’ll go with Zeke?” he asked. “Daniel?”

Before Daniel could speak, Abercrombie said, “I’ll decide where my son goes. You want to go, son?”

“Fine with me.” Daniel’s voice was low.

After more discussion, they decided that platoon sergeant Josiah Baker and another farmer from Missouri would accompany Zeke and Joel Pershing and Daniel.

“You didn’t want to scout?” Doc asked Mac as they returned to their wagons.

Mac shook his head. “I don’t like to leave Jenny.”

“She’s getting purty large for such a little woman,” Doc said.

Mac had noticed Jenny’s bulk as she rode behind him on the Green River crossing.

“Young, too,” Doc continued. “Babies come easiest when a woman’s a little older . . .” his voice trailed off. “But younger’n Miz Pershing.”

Mac wrote that evening:

 

July 19, 1847. Difficult crossing of the Green. Abercrombie still taunting Pershing, whose wife’s confinement is drawing nigh.

The scouts left at dawn. The wagons made their way slowly along the Green River, pausing beneath Names Hill. As Zeke had said, many explorers before them had carved or painted their names on the granite bluff, Jim Bridger among them. Mac wanted to leave his own name in the rock, but Pershing wouldn’t delay. The captain was tense, barking his orders.

At Names Hill they filled their water barrels, then left the Green and edged up a slope above a muddy, trickling creek. They followed piles of rocks the scouts had left to mark the trail, the sun burning them from above and dust choking from below.

Mac rode Valiente beside his oxen, a damp neckerchief over his nose and mouth. He sent Jenny ahead on Poulette to spare her the worst of the grit. Mac’s wagon was near the front of the train. Emigrants in wagons farther back suffered more.

When the heat was at its worst, Mac heard a shout from behind. The wagons halted, and he rode back to find out what was happening. Pershing rode toward him, circling his hat in the air.

“Need to halt as soon as we get to flat ground,” Pershing said.

“What is it?” Mac asked.

“Baby. We’ll wait until it’s born.”

“Wait?” Abercrombie bellowed. “Ain’t no place we can wait in these goddamn hills. Women been having babies since before Moses. We didn’t stop for the Dempsey baby.”

“Doc’s with her now. Something ain’t right.” Pershing’s voice quavered. “We’ll stop soon as we can.”

An hour later the land leveled where another muddy stream joined the one they had followed. Mac heard a woman groaning as he unhitched the oxen. Jenny flinched at every sound as she bustled about their campsite.

When a moan rose into a scream, Jenny dropped a tin plate. “I’ll see if I can help,” she said. “There’s biscuits and jerky in the wagon.”

Mac ate his cold supper. The wailing grew more frequent.

When it grew dark, Jenny returned.

“How is she?” Mac asked.

“Doc says it’s breech,” Jenny said. “I sat with her while Esther and the Tullers ate. They’re with her now. I’m going to bed.”

Mac wrote:

 

July 20, 1847. Hot, dry day through the mountains. More of the same tomorrow.

 

He sat by the fire with nothing to do but listen. How did women bear it? How would Jenny bear it? Finally, he made up his pallet under the wagon and tried to sleep.

Mac woke to silence. He put away his bedroll and walked to the Pershing wagons. Esther sat beside the fire rocking a bundle.

“Baby come?” Mac asked.

Esther beamed. “Another boy. Ma’s mad about that.”

“Is your mother all right?”

“Worn out. Pa, too.”

“I’ll send Jenny over when she gets up.”

Esther nodded.

Jenny poked her head out of the wagon when he returned. “How’s Mrs. Pershing?”

“Had a boy.”

“What’s his name?” Jenny asked as she climbed down.

“Didn’t ask. I told Esther you’d go see her.”

Jenny smiled and started toward the Pershing camp. “I’ll get your breakfast when I’m back.”

“No rush. I’ll put coffee on.” All they had left was a bitter root sold at Fort Laramie. But it warmed the soul on cool mountain mornings. How could the days be so hot, Mac wondered, when the night air chilled them through?

Jenny returned shortly shaking her head.

“What’s wrong?” Mac asked.

“Baby’s awful quiet. Name’s Jonah, by the way. I don’t know much about babies, but I thought they cried a lot. This one’s been sleeping since he was born, Esther says.”

“Mrs. Pershing’s probably glad,” Mac said.

“I suppose, but it doesn’t seem natural.”

After breakfast Captain Pershing announced they would lay by that day.

“Lay by!” Abercrombie exploded. “We’re stuck in the middle of the mountains in a God-awful valley, mosquitoes big as hornets. Gone soft, have you, Pershing?”

“Say what you want, Abercrombie. We’re laying by.”

Abercrombie stalked to his wagon and came back with his gun. “Might as well make use of the time. McDougall, you coming? Ain’t no other able-bodied men left with a good horse.”

Mac raised an eyebrow at Captain Pershing.

“Go ahead,” Pershing said.

Mac saddled Valiente and followed Abercrombie out of camp and into the hills.