A sharp sound woke me in the dead of night, and above the howling wind of the blizzard outside I strained to hear it again. The days of spring had melted into summer, and the warm weather had flown by on fleet wings. With Nettie's friendship, school had become bearable, and the grief of losing my father had faded to a dull ache in my heart. Fall had come quickly, laying a cold, heavy hand on the prairie. This flurry of wind and snow was unseasonably early. I heard the sound again, and bolted upright.
"Mamma?"
Her answer was a grunt of pain, a harsh exhalation of tightly held breath. I leapt from the loft, landing hard on the wooden floor below. Mamma was leaning against her rocker, half bent. I heard Frank come into the room behind me, woken by the loud boom of my landing.
"Jenny?" he took in the situation at once. "Butterfly, you get her set down in bed, then get some hot water going. Don't you leave her side 'til I come back! Hear?"
I wasted no time arguing. While Frank threw on clothes and boots, bundling up in his thick coat, I gently lead Mamma back to the bed, supporting her when she had to stop, groaning in pain. Neither of us noticed when Frank left, me at Mamma's side, brushing strands of hair from her eyes. She managed a brief smile, then her focus turned inward again, the force of her contractions driving everything else from her mind. Remembering Frank's instructions, I eased from her side and hurried to the kitchen, stirring the fire to life.
The snow outside was coming down thick and heavy, so I carried our largest pot to the door and set it out, waiting in the frigid temperature until it was full. Setting it over the fire was a little difficult, since the pot had doubled in weight, but I managed it, and went back to Mamma's side. Her brow was coated with sweat, her eyes closed, cheeks flushed, she didn't notice me at all.
"Ee'nah?" Touching her arm got no response, so I hurried to get a soft cloth, and dipping it in our water bucket I sat at her side. Every now and then I dabbed at her brow, cooling her, soothing her. Time passed by, and Mamma's contractions got worse. I had never witnessed a birth and grew anxious. She opened her eyes suddenly.
"Jaynie?"
"I am here."
"This is it, honey-" she gasped, gripping the hand I held out hard. "This baby is very anxious to come out and meet you."
"Are you alright?" leaning close, I touched her cheek. "Does it hurt much?"
"Not as much as you did," her eyes closed, then opened again. "You were such a fighter, right from the start. I wasn't sure I would live through that, but then there you were, right in my arms. You were so feisty, such fire in your little eyes-!"
She cried out, gritting her teeth against a wave of agony, and I keened softly in sympathy, rocking my body against hers. When the contraction passed her green eyes were soft, strained.
"I loved you so much, as soon as I laid eyes on you. My little Butterfly."
"I am here, Ee'nah," kissing her cheek, I smelled deeply of her scent. "I am right here."
We said nothing more after that, but I stayed at her side and the time drew nearer and nearer. I was worried, but striving not to show it. Where was Frank? Mamma didn't seem to notice me now, though every few minutes she would squeeze my hand. A sudden hand on my shoulder startled me so badly I cried out, whirling around.
"Easy girl," Frank's gray eyes were warm, but concerned. "The doc wasn't in town, I had to hunt him down out at Gilly's place. You done good, but the doctor's here, so let's get out from underfoot."
"No. I will stay."
"I wasn't asking." His fingers tightened a little, and I felt heat rise in my heart.
"Frank," Mamma's voice was weak, feathery. "It's alright. Both of you, stay..."
We looked over and I saw the doctor, a man I'd never seen before, at my mother's side. He was older, grizzled, but kind looking. His blue eyes found me and he smiled.
"Would you fetch me a bowl of hot water and a clean towel, missy?"
"Yes." Moving swiftly, I did as asked, then moved into a corner until Mamma called to me.
"Jaynie, come here, stay at my side." Her fingers were gentle on my cheek as she caressed it briefly. "You'll be fine right here."
I felt like a small bird, perched in the limbs of a gooseberry bush, invisible, as my mamma brought her baby into the world. Life was happening before my eyes, and it was stunning, a miracle, a blessing. The loud wail announcing the arrival of my sibling hushed the room, and I watched Mamma's face melt into an expression of awed wonder, and love. My heart twisted a little, but I knew that she'd worn that same look the night I'd come into the world. Frank glanced at me, a smile on his face.
"Your little sister."
"Jaynie look," Mamma turned a little, to expose the girl's face to me. "Isn't she beautiful?"
For an instant my heart flopped, fear pulsing through me at the sight of delicate features and pink skin. Mamma saw my hesitation and smiled lovingly at me.
"It's okay honey, don't worry."
"She is beautiful." I reluctantly reached out, and Mamma let my fingers trail over the fresh skin and light hair. "She looks like you."
Frank's hand was warm on my back as he leaned in, the three of us looking down at the small life. Her eyes fluttered open, and the baby looked at me. As I stared back, her small mouth twitched a little and then opening, she gave a loud cry, throwing her arms about and I blinked, startled.
"Ee'nah, does she like me?"
"Yes," It was Mamma's turn to laugh. "She loves you."
"Frank?" I glanced at him, and his look was gentle. "She will call you papa."
His laugh was rich, and wrapping an arm about my shoulders he squeezed me close.
"I reckon she will at that." He ruffled the hair that now hung above my shoulders. "You can too,"
"No," I smiled, leaning just a little into his chest. "I will call you father unless I am displeased with you."
"Then what will you call me?"
"I do not like being displeased," I said softly. "Let us not find out."
"Jaynie!" Mamma was shocked, but Frank's laugh was loud enough to drown her out. Standing up, he pulled me off the bed, lifting my feet off the ground. Spinning in a slow circle his eyes never left mine.
"My little Butterfly!" tucking me against him, eye to eye, we stared. "You'll do just fine, you know that?"
"Frank Colter- Father, so will you."
"That's all well and good," the doctor finally spoke, snapping his bag closed. "But the mother and the baby both need some undisturbed rest. You can visit tomorrow."
I was still in Frank's arms, and looked over at my mother. From my height, it felt as if I were an eagle, soaring above those I loved. Her eyes were closed, and I could tell she was almost asleep, the girl child held close in her arms. Instead of insisting to be let down, I rested my arms around Frank's neck.
"She is beautiful. They both are."
"All three of my girls are," he countered, using one hand to tug affectionately on a lock of my hair. "I'm a lucky man, Butterfly, a very lucky man."
"Are you hungry, Frank?" still nose to nose with him, I could smell the sweat of his skin, the earthy scent of my mamma's man. He grinned.
"Skin and dehorn it, little one, and I'll gobble it whole."
"And whites think my people are the savage ones." There was no hint of bitterness in my tone, only play, and Frank squeezed me.
"Just fix me something, and I'll freshen up. And don't forget the coffee."
"You will need to put me down."
He hesitated a moment, then pressed a light kiss against my cheek. Before I could protest he'd set me down and was walking from the room. On quiet feet I followed, glancing back once at my family. The doctor was still there at Mamma's bedside, and he met my eye. With a wink he assured me that all would be well.
Stirring up the fire again, I made a pot of coffee, then took some eggs from the pantry. It didn't take long to put them in a skillet, with potatoes and bacon. I put it into the oven to bake. Frank was shaving by the door, a mirror pegged to the wall. He glanced occasionally at me as I started making bread, using lard, butter, and flour. It went into the oven next to the iron pan. By the time Frank had finished and dressed, breakfast was ready. The doctor came out for a cup of coffee, then disappeared back into the bedroom, leaving Frank and I alone.
We ate in silence, but glanced at each other now and then. Finally, he put his fork down, the plate empty, and looked at me over the rim of his coffee cup.
"What's on your mind, Butterfly?"
"The baby," toying with my fork, I thought it over. "What will you name her?"
"I'll talk it over with your ma." Taking another swallow, he grinned. "You got an opinion?"
"No." My fingers idly drew a design on the wooden tabletop. "I do not know her. A good name takes time."
"But you're okay if we give her a name, just to have something to call her?" he was teasing me, and I took it. It was different among my father's people, my people, but I had learned to adjust, and would continue to do so.
Sunlight was filtering in through broken clouds outside the window, but snow was still falling, a light curtain of moving cotton. I was tired, and yawned sleepily.
"Why don't you hit the hay, Butterfly. You got up mighty early."
"I am fine," but another yawn forced its way out, and Frank grinned.
"Sure you are. Now, get up to bed." Rising, he came around the table and pulled my chair out, walking me to the ladder. "Sleep well, daughter."
"Yes...father." Swiftly I climbed the ladder, and nestled down on my mattress. Frank touched my shoulder gently, murmuring goodnight, but I don't remember more. I was asleep.
I dreamed of my sister, dreamed of her as a grown woman who looked like our mother. She was beautiful, loved, kind, everything a gentle woman should be, and we were walking hand in hand down the middle of the main street in town. I heard someone call my name, a desperate, almost frantic cry and I turned, startled. Wind Runner was at the end of the street, stretching his hand out toward me. Behind him I saw a churning sea of white men with rifles, all aimed and pointed at the warrior's back, ready to fire. I screamed warning, but my voice was gone. Trying to run to him, I felt my arm jerk back, held fast in a tight grip.
"No, Jaynie," my sister's voice was sweet, persuasive, but her eyes were flat, cold. "Let the savage die. You don't need him."
I fought against her, struggling to get free but her fingers dug into my arm, blood dripping from beneath her nails. I watched in horror as Wind Runner fell, his body jerking wildly with each impact of rifle bullets.
"Let the savage die, Jaynie," her voice whispered in my ear. "Let the savage die."
"He'ya!(no)" my own voice woke me, my throat aching from the force of the shriek. Frantically looking around, I fought against the tight restraint of my sheets tangled around my arms and legs. I didn't recognize my surroundings, panic setting in.
"Ee'nah! Ee'nah!(mother)"
"Hey!" a face appeared over the edge of the loft but I screamed, scrambling away, tumbling off the pallet that served as my bed. "What's wrong?"
"He'ya! Ah-yuen-shdahn!(no, leave me alone)"
"Butterfly, it's alright..." Frank slowly came up over the edge of the ladder, hands up. "Easy girl, it was a bad dream. You're okay."
"Ee-hahn blay..." my heart was beginning to slow, thumping hollowly against my ribs. "It was a dream,"
"Can I come up?" he was perched on the edge of the loft, and folding my knees up against my chest, I nodded. Frank climbed up and moved over to my side, still moving slowly. His hand touched my shoulder, a gentle caress that was reassuring, comforting. It brought tears to my eyes, and suddenly I squirmed sideways, burrowing into his body, shivering badly.
"What's got my girl so upset?" he murmured softly, his arms pulling me into a warm hug. "What did you dream of, Butterfly?"
The vivid images were burned into my mind, but the words stuck to my tongue. I shook my head, rubbing the back of my hand across my eyes.
"I do not wish to speak of it," I whispered, finally lifting my head. "It is a bad thing to let the spirits know what disturbs my heart."
"The spirits?" he smiled a little. "I have told them they are not to bother my brave girl. Bad spirits aren't welcome here."
"You did?" it was childish, for I knew better, but at that moment I wanted so badly to feel safe. Frank smiled at me, the gray of his eyes kind, fatherly.
"I did." Settling back against the wall of the loft, he shifted my body so that my ear was laying against his chest, above his heart. "You feel like telling me what's got you so upset?"
"I dreamed of death," I whispered softly, curling my fingers into the fabric of his shirt. "A bad death."
Frank didn't move, didn't speak for a while, the even rise and fall of his breathing under me. Finally he took in a deep breath.
"Don't fear death, Butterfly. Only make certain that when it comes time, you die well."
"I do not know how." Lifting my face to meet his gaze, I bit my lower lip hard. Ruffling my hair, keeping his eyes on mine, Frank nodded gravely.
"I'll teach you, if you'll let me."
Nodding, I sniffled, listening as he began to speak, his words sinking deep into the soul of who I was. Pressing my ear tightly against his chest, I felt my heart open wide, soaking in the words he gave so freely to his adopted daughter.
I'm so excited about this story, I had to get another chapter up ASAP! Happy reading!
~Sara