Page 6 of The Heart’s Charge

Mark had given up trying to make sense of Fern, and frankly, he was a bit disgusted by her refusal to appreciate her daughter. So he ignored her ranting and turned his attention to Dr. Hampton. “The babe came about three or four minutes ago. I cleaned her up as best I could, but I didn’t know what to do about the cord. And now Fern is bleeding, and I don’t know why. Is there another baby?”

“Most likely it’s just the placenta,” Dr. Hampton said as he pulled off his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

Jonah took the doctor’s coat, hung it on a nail protruding from the wall behind him, then took up sentry duty in the most out-of-the-way corner available in the small room. Dr. Hampton shoved his hands into the water basin Mark had left by the edge of the bed, shook them dry, then placed one hand on Fern’s abdomen and pressed down slightly.

“Fern?” He grasped her shoulder with his other hand and gave her a little shake so she would open her eyes. “You need to let your baby nurse. It will help your body purge the placenta.”

“No.” She started to sob. “Wendell’s coming. I did my part.”

Dr. Hampton sighed, then met Mark’s gaze. “I’m going to cut the cord. Then I want you to wash the baby and place her against the skin of your chest. She needs to be warm, and that’s the most efficient method. Plus, the human contact of skin against skin will calm her.”

Mark gave a sharp nod, thankful to have someone with actual medical training giving the orders. As soon as the cord tethering mother to baby was cut, Mark moved to the corner where Jonah stood and set to work carrying out the doctor’s instructions. Once the little lady was snuggled against his chest, her cries mellowed into sniffles, then quieted altogether.

“You know,” Mark said as he leaned his back against the wall and secured his hold on the newborn, “I think I need to write my mother a letter of apology for all the pain I caused her during my arrival.”

Jonah smirked. “That was only one day. What about all the rest of the trouble you caused her in the twenty-eight years since?”

Mark chuckled softly. “Valid point. Guess it’ll be a long letter.” His gaze returned to Fern as she feebly tried to fend off the doctor’s ministrations, and he sobered. “At least our mothers accepted us.”

Memories of his mother holding him in her lap, combing his hair with her fingers, or singing a lullaby swamped him. So much love. He never once questioned his belonging in the family. Never doubted her affection.

He looked down at the babe snuggled securely against his chest. Felt the rise and fall of her breaths. “How can a mother turn her back on her own child?”

Jonah reached toward the windowsill where he’d stashed Fern’s pistol before leaving to fetch the doctor. As Mark watched, he pushed open the cylinder and emptied the five unspent bullets into his palm, then tucked those into his trouser pocket.

Mark raised a brow. Fern wasn’t exactly a threat, currently. Why empty the gun now?

Jonah set the empty gun back on the sill. “Her husband died three months ago. Doc said she’s tried to join him at least once since the burial. Everyone hoped her grief would lift by the time the baby came, but I’m startin’ to think she didn’t bring this pistol with her to fend off interfering Good Samaritans. I’m thinkin’ she planned to join her husband as soon as the babe was delivered.”

“Lord have mercy.”

The angels will take care of our baby. Fern’s deluded words came back to him. I’ve done my part. She’d lived long enough to bring their child into the world and now wanted to reunite with her dearly departed Wendell.

Heart throbbing, Mark crooked a finger and caressed the baby’s cheek. “Why can’t she see that Wendell lives on in you?”

Dr. Hampton approached, drying his hands on a scrap of towel. “Fern is stable for the moment. At least physically.” He shook his head. “I have reinforcements on the way who will hopefully be able to bolster her mental state. I’ve never seen such severe melancholia. She’ll have to be kept under strict observation for quite some time.”

“And the baby?” Mark tightened his hold on the tiny bundle. “Who’s going to take care of her?”

“Kingsland is about as close to us as Llano, and there’s a foundling home there. You’ll have to ford the Llano River, but if you use Harvey’s Crossing, you’ll be fine. The ladies that run the home have contacts in the area and should be able to locate a wet nurse for the babe. Be sure to tell them the mother might want her child returned to her eventually. Some women experience a greater-than-normal sinking of the spirits during and following pregnancy. My prayer is that once the chemicals in Fern’s body balance, her mood will improve and her mind will strengthen. I also plan to search out relatives who might be able to offer assistance. In the meantime, though, this little one has needs only another mother can meet.”

“Just point me toward Kingsland, and I’ll see she gets there,” Mark vowed.

Dr. Hampton nodded.

After giving the infant a thorough exam and fashioning a diaper of sorts out of a square cut from the bed quilt, the doctor swaddled the babe in a flannel shirt Mark had in his saddlebag, then gave the men directions to Kingsland.

Mark had never been so nervous on horseback in his life. Then again, he’d never carried such precious and fragile cargo before. Thankfully, a large sandbar provided a smooth place to cross the Llano, so they made it to the outskirts of Kingsland with no incidents.

“There,” Jonah said, pointing to a two-story farmhouse set back from the road. “White house, green trim, just like the doc said.”

Mark turned Cooper onto the path and followed Jonah up the drive. The closer they got, the more run-down the place appeared. Chipped paint, loose railings, a dilapidated barn. Mark frowned. What kind of place were they taking his little lady to?

A wooden sign hung from the front porch eaves. A carefully carved sign that boasted a fresh coat of paint and read Harmony House Foundling Home. Beneath that, in hand-painted script, was a quote from Mark 10:14: Suffer the little children to come unto me.

Mark knew it was probably nothing but coincidence, but the fact that the establishment chose to quote from the gospel of Mark instead of Matthew or Luke resonated in his soul like a signal from heaven. He was meant to come here. Meant to trust these people with his little lady’s care.

Jonah held Cooper steady while Mark dismounted. His lady fussed at the disturbance. Mark untucked her from inside his vest where he’d placed her for extra warmth as well as another layer of security as they rode. His left arm ached from being held in one position for so long, so he switched to holding her in his right, bouncing her slightly in an effort to mimic the horse’s motion and hopefully lull her back to sleep.