the tiny chest rising and falling quickly, she scooped the baby from the cradle and carried her to the kitchen.
Dewey cradled his arm like an afterthought as he followed along. With a worried expression that was way beyond his years, he asked, “Mama, is Margaret Rose gonna be alright?”
“I think so, Dewey, and if she is, it will be because you saved her life.”
Eliza never went to bed that night. Once she had a kettle of water steaming atop the stove, she held the baby in her arms and stood rubbing circles across the tiny back. As the sun crested the horizon, the baby’s breathing slowed and she dropped off to sleep.
——————
MARTIN SLEPT IN THE SMOKEHOUSE that night, and when he woke from his drunken stupor the reality of what he’d done came at him like a battering ram. He and Eliza had their differences, and they’d butted heads any number of times before but never like that. A few times he’d lost his temper and been overly aggressive with her but not with any of the kids. He could only vaguely remember the altercation with Dewey. He remembered the boy coming at him and the terrible sound of Eliza’s scream. Other than that, nothing.
He lowered his face into his hands and started to sob. He didn’t need to remember the details to know it was bad. Very bad. The kind of thing for which Eliza would never forgive him.
As much as he enjoyed having the freedom to stay in Charleston and live life on his own terms, he didn’t want to lose Eliza. He’d fallen in love with her the first time he’d seen her. Despite their differences, he still loved her. She was to him what the children were to her.
There were times when he thought if she had to choose between him and the children, he would be the loser. He wished it were different. He wished that, like him, she was content to have their life together be just the two of them, but that wasn’t Eliza’s nature. From the day she’d first discovered herself pregnant with Oliver, she’d taken on the glow of motherhood and even after six kids it had not dulled.
Earlier on there had been times when she’d threatened to leave him, and she might well have done it had he not pleaded for her forgiveness. But now, this thing with Dewey could be enough to have her turn her back on him forever. It was true that she didn’t have a cent to her name, but she did have the house and she was still a good-looking woman. The probability was that any number of miners would welcome the chance to move in and play daddy to the kids.
That thought made Martin feel sicker than ever. His stomach rolled, and the whiskey he’d drank regurgitated and spilled from his mouth. His head throbbed, and he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing.
It was late afternoon when he finally drew a bucket of water from the well, washed himself, and brushed back his hair. Sooner or later he would have to come to grips with what he’d done, face Eliza, and ask her forgiveness.
He approached the house and stood outside the screen door. She was inside, moving about the kitchen with the baby held to her shoulder. He peered through the screen looking across to the far side of the room but did not see any of the other children.
Speaking through the screen, he said, “Eliza, I’m real sorry for what I did. It was never in my mind to hurt you or the boy. It was the whiskey making me crazy.”
She turned away without answering.
“You saying this isn’t my house made me feel ashamed, like I haven’t done right by you. I’m a man, Eliza, and like any man, I’ve got a certain amount of pride.” He waited for her to respond, and when she didn’t he continued. “I know I had too much to drink and got crazy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you; I do. I love you and every one of these kids. Maybe I don’t show it as much as I ought, but that doesn’t mean it’s not in my heart.”
She kept her back to him and said nothing.
“Be reasonable, Eliza. You’re my wife. Sooner or later you’re gonna have to forgive me.”
She turned and looked at him with a hatred he’d not seen before.
“I don’t have to do anything of the sort. There is no forgiveness for