Ohhh, Baby. [Chapter 4/4, part 1b/3]
anonymous
March 16 2009, 19:27:06 UTC
They started traveling again an hour or so later, after Alfred could stop shaking from adrenaline and excitement enough to keep the oxen under control. He was excited, thrilling with giddy adrenaline, swelling with pride, real certain now that nothing bad could possibly happen.
But that had been inviting Fate to step in, and so disaster struck.
"Alfred," Abby murmured, face flushed and hot with fever. They were about six hours outside of the next stop, and Abigail had been laid up in the back with the children since Thomas was born. Puerperal fever was setting in quickly.
"Al, Mommy needs you!" May Ellen cried, cradling her baby brother Thomas. Soon enough, the wagon was stopped, and Alfred hopped down and ran around to the back. He climbed up in the wagon next to Abby, pressed his hand to her forehead, and then stroked her auburn hair which stuck to her forehead hot and sticky with sweat. She raised her hand to hold his, and he cradled her soft, womanly hand close to his cheek.
"Abby, fight it," he murmured, tears in his eyes. But when she looked up at him with fever-glazed hazel eyes, he knew she had given up. "May Ellen and Thomas need you," he breathed hopelessly, as the tears started to fall. He was a Nation, but he was also a man, and he loved this woman like a sister he'd never had, this sassy cowgirl, and now she was dying, he knew she was dying, and not even he could do a thing about it.
“I want to see the sky...” she murmured faintly, but then their eyes met again, and for a brief moment her gaze was lucid. “There it is,” she breathed happily.
“I won’t let you go!” the young Nation cried, not looking away no matter how much he wanted to, because he couldn’t bring himself to deny her the sky. “Not like this, Abby. I promised I’d keep you safe.”
"Alfred," she murmured, and squeezed his hand weakly. "Take 'em on to California. I'm...sorry." And then, the cowgirl's hand went slack in his, and her eyes closed, and her head lolled to the side, and she was dead. That was when he closed his eyes, clutching her body close and giving himself over to broken-hearted sobs.
But that had been inviting Fate to step in, and so disaster struck.
"Alfred," Abby murmured, face flushed and hot with fever. They were about six hours outside of the next stop, and Abigail had been laid up in the back with the children since Thomas was born. Puerperal fever was setting in quickly.
"Al, Mommy needs you!" May Ellen cried, cradling her baby brother Thomas. Soon enough, the wagon was stopped, and Alfred hopped down and ran around to the back. He climbed up in the wagon next to Abby, pressed his hand to her forehead, and then stroked her auburn hair which stuck to her forehead hot and sticky with sweat. She raised her hand to hold his, and he cradled her soft, womanly hand close to his cheek.
"Abby, fight it," he murmured, tears in his eyes. But when she looked up at him with fever-glazed hazel eyes, he knew she had given up. "May Ellen and Thomas need you," he breathed hopelessly, as the tears started to fall. He was a Nation, but he was also a man, and he loved this woman like a sister he'd never had, this sassy cowgirl, and now she was dying, he knew she was dying, and not even he could do a thing about it.
“I want to see the sky...” she murmured faintly, but then their eyes met again, and for a brief moment her gaze was lucid. “There it is,” she breathed happily.
“I won’t let you go!” the young Nation cried, not looking away no matter how much he wanted to, because he couldn’t bring himself to deny her the sky. “Not like this, Abby. I promised I’d keep you safe.”
"Alfred," she murmured, and squeezed his hand weakly. "Take 'em on to California. I'm...sorry." And then, the cowgirl's hand went slack in his, and her eyes closed, and her head lolled to the side, and she was dead. That was when he closed his eyes, clutching her body close and giving himself over to broken-hearted sobs.
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