LAKE OF THE SWANS
Book 2 of 3
Chapter 60
Mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, Mia, Rowe, and Sophie, all gathered close to share in the joy and wonder. A baby boy, his eyes closed, rested his chubby little cheek upon his mother’s chest. Meanwhile outside, John stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the tent. Harley stood on the ridge of the roof, gazing at the tent. All eyes were on the tent. It seemed that time had stopped.
The men did not have long to wait. Jessie was first to come out, and seeing Harley on the roof, she lifted her arm high and gave a thumbs-up, then continued without missing a step to the center of camp where the father of the child stood—
“John,” her entire countenance a joyful smile, “come and meet your son.”
Inside the tent, the women made way for the new father to come alongside mother and child. Laureal’s face appeared luminous in the warm glow of the oil lamps—a portrait fresh from the forge of motherhood. Pain overcome. Exhaustion and triumph. Contentedness in its purest form.
A great sense of relief swept over John.
Smiling most tenderly, if only for a moment, husband and wife shared a look of love everlasting, whereupon she led his eyes to the infant on her chest.
“John,” Jessie began, looking on as he marveled, “would you like to hold your son?”
“He’s so small…I’m afraid I might drop him.”
“Small?” Emma inquired with surprise.
“He looks small,” turning to Emma, realizing he did not know.
“He’s anything but small.”
“He’s going to have shoulders like yours, darling,” Laureal murmured, her final screams having borne witness. Fortunately, the child had passed through safely, while Laureal, being a tall girl with long legs and sturdy hips, had not torn badly.
Jessie reached in for the babe, “Here, John, let me show you how to hold him.”
Anxious but willing, John observed as Jessie demonstrated. “Support his head and neck like this. Cup your other hand under his bottom like this. Always support his head and neck, that’s the important thing. Now, to start, we’ll do this a little differently. I’ll just set him in your arms, and when I do, you can cradle his head and body to your chest like this.”
“Take off your coat, John.”
John removed his coat.
“Now, take off your shirt.”
John did as ordered, and Mia, coming around behind him, draped a soft caribou blanket over his shoulders while Jessie placed his son in his arms. Laureal looked on while John knelt beside her, their child cradled to his chest. The babe, lying peacefully with eyes closed, held his tiny palm pressed to his father’s heart. At last, lifting his eyes to Laureal, John leaned in, his voice low and full of wonder.
“You did good.”
“We did good,” smiling as she took their son to her bosom.
Now sixteen strong with the addition of baby John, who’d been nicknamed Little Bear, the clan sat around their fire that evening after supper, shoulder-to-shoulder like spokes on a wagon wheel. Snow fell softly while the campfire, well-stoked and burning bright, threw its light to illuminate the falling flakes like an umbrella put up against the darkness of night.
Elkhart turned to Emma, just there beside him, and they shared a silent smile. The source of their entertainment, the new mother and father, their young faces warmed by the flames; they seemed unable to get enough of their suckling babe, so regularly did they take turns peering under Momma’s poncho.
“Sweetheart,” Jessie began, sitting on the side of her daughter opposite John, “if you can work out the timing, feed him one last time just before you go to sleep.”
“What if he’s asleep, or not hungry?”
“Well, if he’s not hungry, then he’s not hungry, but wake him and give him the opportunity. That way, if he feeds, he won’t be waking you up fifteen minutes after you’ve fallen into a deep sleep.”
“John?”
“Yes, sir,” turning to Elkhart.
“How’d that horse of yours do today?”
“She did great,” smiling.
“She made your life easier, I take it?”
“Oh, yeah. A whole lot easier.” Then, in contemplation, “I guess it shouldn’t be forgotten…there’s a price to be paid upfront, for the easy part, that is.”
“What do you mean, John?” Jessie knew John loved to talk about horses.
“Well, a man must train a horse, or pay to have it trained, but either way, he must pay. Ellie and I trained together for our mission, so we had help, but most of it was on us. I can’t say I ever broke her. More like we reached an agreement that I would be the boss after a series of events that neither of us wished to repeat. One such event was the matter of her feet. I don’t know why, but she didn’t want anyone touching her hooves. It was a real issue for her, and I couldn’t handle it, so we brought in our very best handler. He gave up and said that if I wanted her, I would have to be the one to take the punishment. So again I tried, but every time I went to pick up a hoof, she’d kick, or stomp, or give a firm shake. She launched me six, seven, eight feet at a time. I’d roll over on my back, cursing in pain, then crawl back for more. This went on longer than I care to admit. She wasn’t just any mare. She was a herd boss, and that made everything crazy. Our first ride was insane. And the first time pulling a wagon, a well-made wagon, I should add, she pulled it in half and we crashed in a ditch. But all that said, once we bonded, and it took us time together in the wild, day in and day out, but once we did…well, somehow, our entire dynamic changed into something worth its weight in gold. Whereas before, she’d stomp hard enough to crush my foot, she went out of her way to avoid stepping on me. The way forward was no longer my way or her way…but a shared way that looked out for both.”
Laureal, who’d been understandably distracted, looked up from their babe, “Don’t get John started on horse stories. We’ll be out here all night.”
Anders appeared wooden-faced, “Was he talking about horses?”
Laughter went round the fire.
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