The Midwife's Touch by Sue Harrison

Author:Sue Harrison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shanty Cove Books
Published: 2022-06-15T18:29:51+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next day, I sit on the porch in Ma Mère’s rocker, watching the sky as a gathering of clouds grow tall and dark. My left hand aches from hauling buckets of water to the garden. We need rain. A rise of dust blooms down the trail, and I soon hear a thunder of hooves. Dr. Grey? I stand and tuck stray curls into the bun at the back of my head, but the rider is Cordell Smith, and the animal is his white mule. When he alights, he gives me a smile, and, without invitation, he sits on the porch steps. He removes his straw hat, bats it against his leg a few times, then launches into a meandering conversation.

Finally he says, “Ya got a fine little heifer calf, China.”

I know where this is going, and my heart starts to ache. Anyone who has heard the bawling of a cow when her calf is taken understands, but I know I must agree. “What price will you give me?” I say even before he asks.

He reaches into the side pocket of his overalls and pulls out a three-dollar gold piece, the bust of an Indian in feathered headdress stamped on the front side. I sit speechless. I’ve not seen a gold coin since the war and rarely a silver one.

“Where on earth?”

As if we were still schoolmates, he says, “Mine to know and yours to wonder.” Did I touch Cordell, skin to skin? If so, I may have stolen that gold for him. Pray God, it didn’t belong to someone otherwise penniless. “This for your calf,” he says.

I ignore my feelings of guilt. “Would you let her have another month with my cow?”

“Fair deal.” He flips the gold coin with his thumb, and I catch it midair.

“Cup of coffee?” I ask as he ambles down the porch steps toward his mule.

“Thanks but my uncle expects me back at the smithy. How’s your hand?”

“Doing well. Have you heard anything about Dr. Grey? He was poorly yesterday when I was in town.”

“I saw him up and about this morning. Didn’t notice anything wrong.”

I’m relieved but also foolishly disappointed that I won’t have reason to offer Stephen some of my herbal cures.

Cordell climbs on his mule and is about to turn the animal toward the trail when he smacks his hand against his forehead. “I forgot the main reason I came.” He pulls a letter from his breast pocket, leans down, and hands it to me.

My belly clenches. The postmark is from Louisiana. Have the Destrehans found me? How could that be possible?

When Cordell and his mule are out of sight, I study the sealed envelope. I’m accustomed to Grand-mère Angèle’s occasional letters and her gifts from Canada. Whoever wrote Ma Mère’s name and address upon this letter possesses a bold hand, not at all like my grandmother’s. I break the seal.

The letter is edged in black, and new sorrow adds weight to my burdened heart. I know before I read one word that Grand-mère Angèle has passed.

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