“Jack?”
“What?”
“Promise me something.”
“If I can.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Don’t let them tie me to a tree like they did Datiye.” There was a tremor in her voice.
“Candie, it helps, it really does.”
“No!” she cried.
“All right,” he soothed, taking her in his arms and propping himself into a sitting position. “I’ll hold you up myself. Not all women are tied. Some squat. But believe me, trust me, it’s easier than lying down.”
She didn’t answer. He looked down and saw fear on her face. He suddenly was overwhelmed by a dread sensation and an image of Chilahe lying dead in a pool of her own blood after giving birth to their child. God, he didn’t want to even think it! He hugged her harder. What if Candice had a hard time? No, she was as healthy as a woman could be. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, but he was suddenly sick with anxiety himself.
“I’m not worried,” she said, and they both knew she was lying.
His fears wouldn’t leave. As the days passed, he became obsessed with memories of how Chilahe had died after hours of agonizing pain and awful, heart-wrenching screams. He reminded himself that the shaman had said her passage was too narrow, her hips too small. He had Candice examined by a medicine woman against her will. The shaman was cheerful and optimistic, assuring him that Candice was healthy and should have no problems. When he had asked about the size of her hips and birth canal, the woman had laughingly told him to leave well enough alone. He couldn’t help it. He was terrified with the thought he might lose her. He wished he could stop remembering Chilahe’s death.
He knew he was being completely foolish. One had only to look at Candice to know she was meant for bearing children. She was a woman built strongly. Her hips were wide without being overly large. Her breasts were full now with milk. She was the picture of health, but he was obsessed with fear.
It was early July. Jack was down at the creek, fishing. Not for food, for the Apaches never ate fish. But for sport and amusement and to stay distracted. He heard Candice coming a mile away. These days she waddled, making her even noisier than before. Someday, he thought, Iwillteach her how to move quietly. He turned his head to see her emerge from the woods. She smiled at him, her face flushed. “I thought I saw you coming down here,” she said, breathing a bit hard.
He dropped the spear he had been using and stood. “You look overheated,” he said worriedly. “You shouldn’t be tramping around like this.”
“You’ve become a mother hen, Jack,” she said with a smile. Then she winced.
“What is it?” He felt panic.
“Jack, I think I’m in labor.”
“You think?”
She smiled wanly and suddenly winced again. “They were so dull before, I thought I was imagining …” Suddenly a spasm took her. She gasped and sank to her knees.
Jack was at her side instantly. “Candice, damn it. Are you—”
“Oh, I think so.” She moaned as another spasm took her.
“Candice, another pain?” He was aghast. They were coming too quickly, one right on top of the other.
“Jack,” she cried out, grabbing his shoulders and digging into them. She moaned.
“Usen!Candice, I’ll go get help! Don’t do anything until I get back! When did the pains first start?”
“A few hours ago.” She moaned, panting, pushing, straining, as she slid to her back.
“A few hours ago!”
“I didn’t know they were labor pains! Jaaack!”
“Oh, shit.” He groaned, kneeling, afraid to leave her. Her legs were bent at the knees, spread. He pushed the skirt up. “How could you not know, Candice?” he cried.
She was panting. “They were … so slight. Just a … discomfort—oohhh!”
“You have to squat,” he said, lifting her up.
