Mystic Montana Sky Part 9

"Do you not like Reverend Joshua?"

Caleb's smile was rueful. "I wouldn't say I dislike the man, rather. . . ." He shrugged. "The story is not completely mine to tell, so I will say no more."

Curiosity made her want to question him further, but Maggie held her tongue. She could only think the better of him for not spreading gossip. Oswald had always enjoyed relating news of others' misfortunes in the most mean-spirited way possible. She'd often wanted to press her hands over her ears to shut out the sound of his voice. But she hadn't dared, for that would have angered him, with dire results.

I've spent our whole marriage tiptoeing around Oswald lest I set him off.

Once again, Maggie glanced at the cradle. I have to be strong for both of us.

The days of holding my tongue out of fear are over!

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Having satisfied his ravenous appet.i.te, Caleb retired to his study to await the clergyman, wanting to intercept the minister before he spoke with Maggie. He wasn't looking forward to telling the man what had happened, but he felt Reverend Joshua needed the information so he could best counsel her.

Caleb had taken several months to stop inwardly bristling around Joshua Norton, although he always treated the younger minister with polite reserve, which the man returned in kind. He apparently hadn't forgotten Caleb and Edith's repudiation of Delia Bellaire when they'd discovered his houseguest had Negro blood but was pa.s.sing herself off as a white woman.

Delia's father, Andre, had suffered a heart attack on the train, landing the two of them in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs. Caleb had invited them to stay while Andre recovered. Egged on by Edith, Caleb had initiated a mild courtship of beautiful Delia. While his heart hadn't been engaged, he'd admired the young woman and believed her wealth and education would make her a suitable match.

Instead, she and Reverend Joshua had fallen in love, which turned out to be a good thing. Caleb did not want a bride with Negro blood; whereas, the minister didn't seem at all put out by the idea of Delia's murky racial heritage. He understood the quality of the woman beneath her skin, his conscience pointed out.

Since the quarrel with the Bellaires, Caleb had seen the minister around Sweet.w.a.ter Springs and listened to his sermons when he preached instead of his father, but the two men had only exchanged polite greetings. Otherwise, they steered clear of each other.

Their mutual avoidance was made easier by Reverend Joshua taking on the role of circuit preacher and being gone part of every month. While their new house was being built in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs, the Bellaires departed on the train for the city of Crenshaw. Even when Caleb's hotel opened at Christmas, the Bellaires hadn't returned, probably not wanting to be his guests even if they were paying for the privilege. The minister made frequent visits to his betrothed.

Andre Bellaire had started building a new brick house-a mansion that rivaled Caleb's in size-for himself, his daughter, and his soon-to-be son-in-law on a back street near the Reiners'. With the completion of Anthony Gordon's office building, and later Caleb's hotel, there were plenty of skilled workers to throw at the new house, and the dwelling had gone up at almost magical speed, helped along by a milder winter than usual. Now that the house was livable, Joshua and Delia's wedding was scheduled to take place in a week, with the reception being held at the hotel.

A knock sounded at the front door. Probably the subject of my thoughts. He moved from his office to the front door to answer.

Sure enough, Reverend Joshua waited on the porch. The minister was dressed in a well-cut suit, something he could afford due to the fortune he'd inherited from his late wife's family.

Conscious of his dirty, rumpled attire, Caleb waved an arm to usher the man in.

Although Caleb could tell Reverend Joshua noted his disheveled appearance, he appreciated the minister had too much tact to comment, merely uttering a quiet greeting. Once inside, the minister removed his bowler and placed it on the hat rack.

Since his arrival from Africa, Reverend Joshua had put some weight on a frame that had been too thin, making his face less austere than his father's. The lines around his eyes and mouth had smoothed out. The vivid blue eyes he'd inherited from his father showed more life than previously, and he had an air of energy, which before he'd lacked. Returning home and falling in love had obviously worked wonders.

Caleb couldn't begrudge the minister his recovery.

They exchanged solemn greetings.

"Jed said you wanted to see me? That you have a lady visitor? If she's from Morgan's Crossing, then perhaps I'm acquainted with her."

Caleb let out a long breath of relief, knowing Maggie would have an easier time speaking with the minister if he weren't a stranger. "It's a rather long story. Come into my study, and I'll give you the. . .details before you go upstairs. Magdalena Baxter is her name, and she's currently in the blue guest room." No need to direct the man; he'd visited on many occasions when the Bellaires stayed here.

They entered Caleb's domain, a pleasant room with a big desk near windows bordered with stain-gla.s.s, plenty of bookshelves, and leather wing chairs bracketing a small round table in front of a fireplace.

Instead of sitting behind the desk, he led the minister to the chairs and gestured for him to take a seat. "Can I pour you a drink?" He was sure of the answer but made the polite gesture anyway. He'd never known the Nortons to imbibe.

"No, thank you."

"Very well. There's tea for you in Mrs. Baxter's room." Caleb took the other chair. At a loss for where to begin, he steepled his fingers and stared at the pattern of red, blue, and green light falling on the floor from the angle of the sun through one of the stained-gla.s.s windows. "I've had a most tumultuous few days, and before you see Mrs. Baxter, I feel the need to explain what has occurred."

A shadow of concern swept Reverend Norton's face. "I know Mrs. Baxter. Is she. . .well?"

"Doctor Cameron says she is, but let me tell you more. You might be aware Michael Morgan does business with my bank, and that I make an annual business trip to Morgan's Crossing. While on the journey, I was not paying close attention to my driving and allowed my speed to increase." With a forefinger, he made an S motion. "That hilly section after you cross the second stream."

Reverend Joshua nodded, his gaze intent.

"From the opposite direction, Oswald Baxter was driving that ungainly caravan of theirs, whipping his team to a dangerous pace."

Reverend Joshua sucked in a swift breath.

"Yes." Caleb's stomach tightened at the nightmarish memory. "They drove off the hill and crashed into a tree. Oswald Baxter was killed, and Maggie, uh, Mrs. Baxter was thrown clear, and she went into labor a few hours later."

"Jed said there was a baby. Amazing she and the child survived."

His heartbeat sped up. "I don't have to tell you of my fear that they would not make it-alone in the wilderness, not another woman for miles-with only me, who hasn't the slightest bit of knowledge of babies, much less how to deliver them."

"You must have been terrified."

Caleb let out a long slow breath and leaned his head back against the chair, unable to put his experience into words.

The two sat in silence for long moments.

Finally, Reverend Joshua shifted. "I sometimes receive what I call G.o.d-prompts-strong, ah, intuitive or Divine messages-nudges, actually-encouraging me to say something that seems most unusual or unlikely or even. . .vulnerable. Most of the time my response to these G.o.d-prompts is reluctance-sometimes the utmost reluctance, for to speak up would seem to open myself to ridicule."

Caleb lifted his head and stared at the man in puzzlement. Whatever does that have to do with what I just told him?

Reverend Joshua rested his gaze on him. "Over time, I've learned to heed the G.o.d-prompt. Doing so seems to accomplish the purpose."

"Stop talking in riddles," Caleb growled.

Reverend Joshua held up a placating hand. "Sometimes I'm the most obtuse when I am uncomfortable to reveal something about myself or discuss topics. . .private topics that men do not normally talk about-such as childbirth and other intimacies in their marriages. But I'm receiving that prompt now to speak of a time that was very painful, a story I'm reluctant to share. But perhaps you will find my experiences helpful."

Although still annoyed, Caleb settled back to listen. Hopefully the man would soon stop going in circles and get to the point.

"When we arrived in Africa, Esther, my wife, was already with child and not having an easy time of it. In spite of her zeal to bring the Gospel to the heathen, she was not adapting well to the reality of life in a Ugandan village. She wanted to preach to the natives but not live among them-holding the people at a distance and not developing friendships with the women. This philosophical difference caused a great rift between us that never healed."

Caleb found himself interested in spite of his impatience and began to see a glimmer of where the man might be going.

"When her time came, Esther refused to have a native midwife attend her. So there was only me." His voice rasped.

Caleb grunted in agreement.

"Of course, I knew nothing about birthing a child, and neither did my wife. Her labor was a h.e.l.lish nightmare. Long, painful. She screamed and cried and railed at me."

Caleb could vividly imagine such a horror.

"I believe Esther might have died, and Micah with her, if several of the women, including the midwife, hadn't forced themselves into the house and pushed me out of the door. I don't know what those women did, but somehow eventually the baby arrived, and both he and my wife lived." He took a breath. "So you see, I know how frightening it is to deliver a baby when it seems the mother's life and that of the child are in your hands."

Caleb jerked to his feet, strode over to the silver tray holding bottles of water and spirits, and poured himself a gla.s.s of brandy. He took a sip, feeling the fiery liquid burn away the tightness in his throat. "At least Maggie knew what to do." In the emotion of the moment, her given name had slipped out, but he didn't correct himself. "Thankfully some of the other women in Morgan's Crossing had given her information, and she had her mother's tales. But if she hadn't known. . . ." He shook his head and took another sip. "She was a trouper."

Reverend Joshua's gaze tracked him.

Feeling a bit more relaxed, Caleb returned to the chair. As he sat, his stiff muscles protested, reminding him of Maggie's far more serious aches and pains. "From the accident, Mrs. Baxter has a sprained ankle and is sore and bruised all over, especially on the side where she landed. Then of course, there is the toll childbirth takes on a woman's body, which I'm sure must be great, although she does not complain."

"Mrs. Baxter's spirits seem well? That is, she is attentive to the baby?"

Caleb looked askance. "Of course."

"There isn't an of course about it. I've ministered to some women who fell prey to low spirits after a birth. Not bonded with the child as they should. Neglected the baby. But I'm glad to hear that isn't the case here. Sounds like Mrs. Baxter sailed through with flying colors."

"Really, Reverend Joshua," Caleb snapped, resentful. "I doubt any woman would say she sailed through childbirth."

Reverend Joshua gave an understanding shake of his head. "You're right. I shouldn't have spoken with levity about labor, which is really a harrowing. . .and sometimes fatal experience."

Silence settled. They sat in apparent male accord-grateful that men did not have to carry and birth babies.

Caleb cleared his throat. "You missed the best part, though, by not being there in the instant your son was born."

The minister sent him a puzzled look.

"When Charlotte came out into my hands, I've never felt anything like it. Her eyes met mine in a moment of connection. If ever I was in need of proof humans have souls. . . ." He shook his head, remembering and struggling to put his emotions into words. "She was only a minute old, but I saw the ageless soul within her. I wanted to fall to my knees in awe or weep or yell in triumph."

Apparent wistfulness showed in Reverend Joshua's eyes. "Micah and I had such a moment as you describe, when first I held him. But I don't think my wife felt that same sudden bond."

The very fact of having such a personal discussion felt beneficial in some way. Caleb ventured to comment. "Your marriage sounds as if it was. . ." Horrible, isolated, sad. . . . He couldn't even find the right word to describe what he meant.

Reverend Joshua's lips turned up in a sad smile. "The idea of marriage with Esther had seemed so promising. The gradual disillusionment was. . .painful." He gave Caleb a thoughtful look. "I don't want to frighten you away from marriage. I believe circ.u.mstances played a great part in the difficulties Esther and I experienced in the years before her death. We probably would have muddled along just fine if we'd remained in America."

"I will venture to say. . .a marriage with Delia Bellaire will be much different than you experienced before."

Reverend Joshua's smile widened. "I believe Delia and I will find true happiness."

Caleb gave the minister a considering glance. "I believe you will."

"It seems we are no longer at odds, you and I. I'm glad." Reverend Joshua's expression grew serious. "I appreciate you and Mrs. Grayson keeping Delia's secret."

Caleb held up his hands. "Not my business. You, as her husband-to-be, know the truth. That is a choice a man must make for himself. . .and his offspring."

"You said the baby's name is Charlotte?" Reverend Joshua asked in an obvious attempt to ease the discussion away from what could become a disagreement.

"Charlotte Victoria."

"Lovely. If her mother is up to it, we can christen the baby on Sunday."

Caleb ran a hand over his neck and squeezed, feeling the knots under his fingers. "I don't even know what day it is." Sudden weariness weighed him down. He twisted his head, trying to loosen the tension in his neck, before lowering his hand.

"Monday."

"The doctor said she needs bed rest for at least five days. After that, she can have limited movement but still must rest. But I imagine she'll be able to attend church. We can see how she feels on Sat.u.r.day. I should take you to her." He placed his hands on the arms of the chair to push to his feet.

"Stay, Caleb." Reverend Joshua's soft tone held a note of command.

Startled by the minister's usage of his given name, Caleb subsided back into the chair.

"I think there is more to the story. You skimmed over Oswald Baxter's death."

"She asked me to leave him buried where he is." Speaking of the man reminded him of his guilt and irritated him.

"There is something to be said for unburdening your heart," Reverend Joshua stated gently.

"What do you want me to tell you?" Caleb demanded. "I killed a man out of careless inattention? Made a wife a widow, a baby fatherless? Have I guilt? Remorse? I don't in h.e.l.l know!" He banged a fist on the arm of the chair, uncaring that he'd just cursed in front of the minister.

"Caleb, listen. Oswald Baxter was not a good man." Reverend Joshua spoke with precision, as if choosing his words carefully. "I suspected so when I counseled him and Maggie before their wedding. Indeed, I urged Maggie to postpone the ceremony. But with only suspicions, I could not be more forthright. They had not been long in the area, and his character wasn't well known at the time. And I was not very acquainted with the people of Morgan's Crossing. Today, I'd know to ask the Morgans or Mrs. Tisdale or a few others for their opinions. Later, as I heard tales of the man's abuse of his wife. . .well, I did feel guilt and regret for joining those two in holy matrimony."

Caleb gave him a sharp look, a.s.sessing the truthfulness of his words, and saw anguish in the minister's eyes that matched his own feelings of helplessness and guilt.

Reverend Joshua's shoulders slumped. "Am I sorry Oswald Baxter did not have a chance to repent of his evil ways? Yes, of course. But in my experience, a man who abuses his wife does not stop, so I cannot be sad that Maggie Baxter is free of her husband. I urge you to rest your conscience in this matter."

"I cannot. I feel a heaviness-" Caleb thumped on his chest "-at the loss of life."

Reverend Joshua leaned forward. "You would not be a good man if you didn't feel some remorse, Caleb. Bad men have no such conscience to trouble them. Nor would you be a good man if you didn't care about the abuse Maggie Baxter has suffered. Bad men condone abuse to those who are weaker and often indulge in such behavior, as well."

Caleb thought about the minister's points.

"Your inattention could possibly have contributed to Oswald's death, but we'll never know that for certain. What is certain is that you saved Maggie's life and that of her unborn child. And I believe the experience has done you good. You are a different man, Caleb Livingston. I can feel it."

The minister's brows drew together. "A person might have a profoundly life-changing experience, yet if he returns to his prior circ.u.mstances and way of life, that understanding can fade like a dream," he warned.

"I'll keep that in mind." After living through the nightmare and the miracle of Charlotte's birth, Caleb doubted his life would ever be the same.

What am I going to do about Maggie and Charlotte?

When Maggie saw Reverend Joshua step through the bedroom door, tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She swiped them away with her sleeve. "I don't know why I started crying, Reverend Joshua. I was fine, really I was."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

"You came prepared." Maggie tried to sound playful but suspected she'd failed.