Free Fated Memories by Judith Ann McDowell Page B

protect herself, her thoughts flew back to an earlier time, when a beautiful red-haired baby had first arrived in her world.

Chapter Five
     
    Cut Bank, Montana, 1887
     
    Bright streaks of lightning flashed across the dark Montana sky, followed by low rumblings of thunder far off in the distance. As the storm gathered strength, so did a small woman in the ranch house below.
    The pains worsened. At first they seemed no more than a nagging bother, but as the first rays of dawn crept into the room, she could no longer ignore their presence. Pushing back the covers, she got to her feet, standing for a moment until a sudden wave of dizziness started to subside. As she reached for her robe lying across the foot of the bed, she felt a warm gush of liquid run down her legs to soak the small rug and plaster her nightdress to her already shivering body. With mounting fear, she made her way to the bedroom door to call out as loud as she could.
    “ Hattie! Hattie, help me. Oh god, please, help me.”
    Unable to stay on her feet any longer, she felt herself sliding to the floor. As if in answer to her prayers, she heard the creaking of the floorboards as her housekeeper, dressed in a black and gray woolen robe, lumbered down the hallway towards her.
    “ Fo’Gawd’s sake, Miz Charlotte, whut you doin’ layin’ on dat flo’? Come on now,” she grunted, reaching her ponderous arms around Charlotte’s waist to lift her to her feet. Feeling the wet nightgown, she breathed, “Land sakes, Miz Charlotte, you done soiled yo’seff.”
    “ The baby’s comin’, Hattie. I been havin’ pains off and on all night and just now when I came to get you, my water broke. You need to tell one of the hands to go get Doc Nebinger,” she panted as her stomach tightened, gearing up for another onslaught of pain.
    “ Sweet Jesus, Ah doan know what’s ter do.” She wrung her hands as she stared toward the bedroom window. “It’s blo’in an po’in sumpin’ awful outside. Ain’t nobody gwing ter goes fer de doctah in dis storm, Miz Charlotte.”
    “ Then we’re gonna have to deliver this baby on our own.” With Hattie’s help, she made her way towards the bed.
    “ Won’t be de first time fer dat. Ole Hattie’ll brings dis youngin’ in ter de world.” She lowered her deep voice to a more soothing tone, as she lifted the soiled gown up and over Charlotte’s head, before easing her into a sitting position on the bed. “Doan you worry none.”
    “ I know you’ll do just fine, Hattie. The thing worryin’ me is this baby’s a little early. I’m afraid somethin’ might go wrong.” She snuggled beneath the covers.
    “ Ain’t nuthin’ gwing gos wrong. Dat ole doctah jes figured wrong’s all. W’en de good Lawd sees fitin’ ter sends you a youngin’, dat’s w’en you sees fitin’ ter haves it. Now, you jes’ hesh, whilst Ah goes an’ gits things ready. Ah be back in a jiffy.”
    Alone with the sounds of the raging storm and the wind beating against the shutters, Charlotte could feel her terror mounting. The oil lamp on the nightstand flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced and undulated across the bedroom walls, and calling to mind the stories she had listened to as a child. Chilling stories of witches dressed in black, stirring their fiery cauldrons and waiting to devour those unfortunate enough to be caught and thrown into their foul-smelling concoctions. She tried not to panic as she waited for Hattie’s return.
    With a start, she sat up, as a loud clap of thunder crashed through the semi-darkness.
    “ Hattie! Hattie, where are you!?” she screamed, her heart thudding in her chest.
    “ Ah’s right hyrah, Miz Charlotte, an’ Ah got eve’ything we’s gwing ter need.” Hattie set a large deep bowl down on the small wash stand. From the pocket of her dress, she withdrew a spool of heavy thread and a pair of scissors. Cutting two long pieces of thread from the spool, she put them, along with the scissors, into