The Jewels of Nebraska, 18 -The Baby's name

Ruby's throat felt as if some had poured a bucket of sand and dirt down it. She swallowed involuntarily which made her grimace. She held a seat cushion from the truck over her head for a scant amount of shade from the Utah sun. Her feet began to scuff on the ground, it was getting harder to raise them up over, and over, and over.

The stolen truck with the mis-wired sparkplugs had made it an hour or so from the burning “Heaven” compound, but, with some terrible banging from the engine, it quit and wouldn't even turn over again. By sunrise the truck was just a speck on the horizon.

Ruby tried to ignore the calculations that kept popping up in her head, the numbers of hours the truck had taken to get from the main road to the compound the day they arrived, multiplied by how many times slower  her stumbling along on foot was.

How long can one go without water? How long before a car will come along on the main road, even if she made it. She thought about the truck sitting in the road with it's gasoline tank nearly full. 

If only she'd thought to steal as much water as she did fuel.

She was reminded of a picture she seen where the hero and heroine were stranded in the desert. They walked miles over endless dunes and finally collapsed in the sand. A man on a camel came and gave them water and they went on to defeat the evil sheik.

Ruby didn't think anyone was going to turn up on a camel with water, but the idea that she might die like she was in a movie had a nice romantic sound to it.

I was silent for a long time as we made our way to my folks house in the dark streets of Omaha. Charlotte held the babe close. She was speaking softly to her child almost without cease. I couldn't hear the words, but, like the baby, the tone I could understand perfectly.

After a while Charlotte seemed to be slowing and hiking the baby up more often.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“Yes I'm... No... No, I'm afraid not. I don't think I've ever walked so far in my life.”

I knew what I had to do, but I was nearly petrified with fear. “Um... Perhaps I should. Rather... well, um, take the baby, you know, just for a while. You could hang on my arm for support then.”

“Yes, perhaps that would be best.” She prepared to hand me the bundle. “You've held a baby before?”

“Ah, in truth, no ma’am, never once.”

I could see from the concern on her face was not from my words but the fear I had allowed to show on my face.

“It's not hard,” she said kindly. “You just have to support her fontanel.”

"What?"

"Her head darling."

“Why?”

“You just have to.”

I looked down at the baby in Charlotte's arms, her sleeping face peered out from the blankets framing it. So pure and delicate, and I was to hold her, a helpless life in my arms.What if it cried, what if it wet on me? What if I dropped it?!

I was never so want of a baby carriage in all my days. Perhaps my new life of crime had taken hold, for I looked around for one to steal.

“It's okay, really, you'll do fine.” She passed the baby to my reluctant arms.

It began to fuss and cry. I tried to adjust the thing somehow, maintaining a safe and presumably upright position that supported it's rubbery head. Eventually she was against my chest and left shoulder, her head resting on the curve of my neck. She stopped crying. I started breathing again.

“You see, she's fine, you're doing just fine.”

Charlotte hung on my arm as we made our way through the quiet streets. I felt the warmth of both of them. The baby would once in a while kick, or move it's arms. My fear had not gone away, not completely but it was accompanied by something new, something I'd never felt before. Surely it was love, but not like any I had felt before. We had only a few miles to go, but I could have walked fifty.

William looked at the wooden bowl before him. He was hungry, that was for sure, but the root mash was one of the worst things he had ever tasted. He looked around at the others in the circle. The Indians were digging from their bowls barely pausing to speak. Later in the day there were often dried strips of meat, of what animal William had no idea. They too were bland with no salt shaker, not to mention a table to put it on, but a whole lot tastier than the roots.

It had been weeks since he had even slept in a proper bed but he liked when he could see the stars. He felt  like a cowboy in the pictures.

Ben and Kohn and their guides had been gone for two days. William was mostly bored. He wanted to pull his weight, but it was plain only women did the day-to-day work. He was too young to hunt with the men and he couldn't communicate with anyone.

William spent most of his time taking walks and taking pictures with his camera. Of course there was no film, but he put his eye to the view finder and clicked the shutter all the same. He tried hard to ingrain the images he found interesting in his mind. A large rock formation, a hawk perched on a dead tree, a network of canyons that stretched to the horizon.

After the meal of root mash he was on one of his photo safaris. He saw a group of hunters on horseback across a canyon. He framed a picture to 'take'. 

The image in the view finder looked just like a movie. Instead of clicking the shutter he followed them like a picture show. He noticed that unlike a picture show, his view bounced and jiggled with his movement no matter how hard he tried to keep it steady.

He lied on the ground and found a rock that had a rounded point on top. He rested the camera on the rock and found the men and horses in his view finder again. The camera rocked a bit, but once he got the hang of it he could follow the distant movement with a smooth and steady flow. It really looked like a movie. He imagined the scene in sepia tones and the sound of the piano playing Indian sorts of music.

“Much better.” he said.

“You are a strange one, lovely boy.” said a voice directly over him.

William rolled over with a start. The figure was just a silhouette against the afternoon sun. A dress with hands on it's hips and legs astride.

“You scared me!” William yelled.

“It is not my fault that whites can barely hear or see.”

He laughed. “You must think I'm deaf, maybe blind too.”

William sat up and picked his camera up from where it had toppled off the rock. Little Wind sat beside him.

“Cam-er-a.” He said.

“Camera yes,” she said in English. “I have seen your picture boxes before, a white man came once. His picture box was much bigger than yours. He put it on a tree with three trunks.” she motioned with her hands.

“I think I understand. One day I will have a camera like that and I will take pictures of you.” He made a frame around her face and smiled.”

“I think that you are being sweet... husband.”

“I wish I could understand you. I could teach you English ya know. Do you want to learn English? English?”

Little wind made a motion William took to be a sort-of shrug.

“You... learn... talk... English.” He motioned to her, then his lips several times.

She looked coyly at him for a moment, then leaned over and quickly kissed his lips.

William's eyes went wide. “Why'd you go and do that?”

He was further confused by the scolding sounds she started making.

“You are a snake Will-ee-am. A snake, but I am your wife. I can only obey.”

William scratched his head.

“Well aren't you going to en-glush Little Wind now. I have seen whites. Woman en-glush man, then man en-glush woman.”

“What? I don't... You said 'English'... Oh, I get it! You thought...” William laughed out loud.

Little Wind frowned.

“Kiss! That was a kiss. Kiss... Kiss.” William motioned to his lips repeatedly.”

“Great Father, you are a snake. Must I do it again? Very well husband. I am obedient to you.” She leaned forward and kissed him again, not as quickly this time.

“No, no...” William said, “I..”

Her face was still close. Her lips slightly parted. Her eyes were so dark and large, he see could the desert landscape in them. He closed the distance and kissed her, his heart pounded and he wanted to pull away but her hand rested on his shoulder and she made a sound like penny candy on a Saturday night. Their lips warmed together, unmoving, unsure what to do. 

William's hand raised to her cheek. It was so soft. She cooed at his touch then suddenly pushed him away. She got up and walked away rapidly.

“A snake Will-ee-am you are a snake!” She turned and walked backward that she could address him. “I obey you like a wife, but you cannot have me as a wife, I not yet a woman, and the chief has not yet bound us.” She took a few more steps and spun around on the gravely ground. “A Snake!.”

William sat on the ground. He watched the Indian girl stomp away. He shook his head. “I hate girls,” he said.

He rolled back over and tried to make pretend movie shots with his camera again, but he found even on the rock he could no longer keep it steady. He rolled on his back and felt the pounding still in his chest.

“Hate 'em.”

William closed his eyes and smiled.

My father's small house was dark when we arrived, but Bill and my parents all emerged from their rooms The moment the baby cried. Charlotte nearly collapsed in a chair.

“You poor dear, William, fetch some water.” my mother said, My mother automatically outstretched her arms towards the baby I was carrying. I glanced at Charlotte who gave a weak smile of approval. My mother took the baby naturally and adjusted the blankets around it easily as if it hadn't been eighteen years since holding me. It stopped crying almost immediately. Bill came back a moment later with a a glass of water for Charlotte, who drank it daintily, but non-stop.

“Mother, Father, Bill, this is Charlotte.”

"This fella hasn't been able to shut his yap about you since you arrived at the station last year." Bill said elbowing me."

"Hush William! Mind your manners." my mother scolded.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Charlotte said in almost a gasp as she put the glass on a lace doily by the chair and tried to rise. Mother placed her free hand on her shoulder. “That's alright dear, you rest.

“And who do have here?” My mother said in baby tones.

I froze in embarrassment. “My goodness, I don't even know the child's name.”

All eyes turned to Charlotte.

“Henrietta is what's on her birth certificate, but I do detest that name.”Charlotte said.

“Then why?...” My mother rocked the baby.

“I knew they would take her from me. I was planning ahead. I knew if I ever got her back that I would have to hide her, that I would have to change her name. Why not save her real name for that time. A time like right now.”

Charlotte held out her arms, my mother handed back her baby.

“Little girl, beautiful little girl," Charlotte said, "your name is, as it always truly has been: Ruby.”

____________________________________

A personal side story that helped me understand the horrors of handling a baby for the first time (for a guy):

I spent several years working as an ICU technician at a Hospital in Rochester, NY in the early '90s.


Because it was a small hospital there weren't always enough patients in the unit to require my 'tech' help so I sometimes got floated to other areas of the hospital like the regular patient floors, or often the emergency room. On rare occasions I was even sent to the OB nursery which, as a childless dude, I found a bit scary.

They were merciful though, and had me spend my time doing non-baby sorts of things like stocking Infamile and diapers.

Merciful, except for one occasion.


To my horror, I was asked to change a newborn into those little tops they wear while in the hospital. Surely, an effortless, mindless occupation not to be at all feared.


Lo, nay I say!


Okay, no problem, I've handled any number of critical care emergencies, I'm an ICU/ER tech for cryin' out loud...


I got this!

• Problem 1: The top in question itself was an issue. These are not articles of clothing that have any logic to them. They wrap around the torso of an infant one-and-a-half times and have, count'em, three sleeves. Okay, not rocket science, I'll grant you but which two sides are the front? Which two sides are the rear? Does one lift the newborn to apply this mini pastel straightjacket or does one roll the critter back and forth, like rolling out terrycloth cookie dough?
  No instruction was available.
  
  
• Problem 2: The limbs of infants are like soggy noodles. Getting them to poke through a sleeve is much like the proverbial 'pushing a rope up a road'. This limpness of course applies double to the oh-so vulnerable head and neck, which seems to require a third hand to protect and support it while wrangling all the other rubbery bits.
  
  
• Problem 3: Just as I was getting started, Who else but the family showed up at the window just in front of me. A pinnacle moment in their lives, viewing this new precious life just a few inches away, a life that is the clutches of a complete amateur.
  -No pressure.
  

All was well though. I somehow faked some level of competence and the family was cleverly fooled into thinking their baby was in-fact not on the verge of being inadvertently tied into a sheepshank by a guy who had never so much as touched a hours-old human before, or, as I'm happy to report...

Since!

The Jewels of Nebraska Episode #17

The girl was right, releasing the stays all at once was a bad idea.

Ruby had rubbed her wrists raw in the ropes but managed to free them from the bed frame and undo the laces on the correction corset she had been forced to wear. She thought it would be pure relief to breath free again and not have her middle cinched down to a spindle, but the pain of that freedom was extraordinary. Her skin burned, her ribs ached and her insides complained severely, having been rearranged then dumped back in place. Even the ability to take full breaths had it's peril, the sudden rush of oxygen from her deep breaths made her even more dizzy and lightheaded than when they first laced her into the thing.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out and waking the girls around her, and gripped the bed rail to keep from falling over. Ruby looked at the old corset lying on the floor.

It had tortured it's last girl she decided.

“Brother Tobias, Brother Tobias!”

The large man rolled over slowly like a mountain of rising dough. The girl next to him scrambled to wrap her night dress around her and scurried from the room.

“Brother Tobias, there's a fire.”

“You woke me up for that?” Brother Tobias said standing in front of his residence. He saw the small fire in the center of the compound. “It looks like... that's a corset.”

“No brother, I woke you for that.” Brother Schecter pointed behind the row of buildings to a glow and a column of smoke rising from it.

“Oh crap! The God damn generator! Well... sound the bell you halfwit!”

An explosion just then, made the bell superfluous.

Ruby jumped in the Hewette's truck after having refueled it using the same hand pump they had used to empty their gasoline into the generator's tank. She had also ripped the rubber fuel lines from the generator letting the gasoline spill on the dusty ground. She smashed the lantern she'd taken from the hallway. She felt the wave of heat that made her jump back. The flames around the generator rose a lot higher and faster than she had imagined they would. Maybe she shouldn't have taken the time to set the corset ablaze in the center of the compound but she simply couldn't resist.

The truck whined and turned over and over when she pushed the starter. It wouldn't start. She wanted to run away from the flames, but the truck was her only hope of escape. She lifted the engine cover hoping to see something obvious. There it was, a handful of wires resting unconnected on what looked like a miniature version of those fancy milking machines she'd seen at the County Fair. She plugged the wires in, in no particular order.

Nothing.

She tried moving the wires onto different plugs.

Still nothing. 

The Generator tank had flames licking it's sides. It began creaking like an old ship. The fuel spilling on the ground crept towards the truck. Ruby saw it approach in her rear view mirror.

One more time she went to the engine and quickly rearranged the wires, like some puzzle, one wire seemed to come from a different direction, she plugged it into the center plug which was higher than the rest.

She pushed the started with a prayer. The truck began to sputter. She pumped the gas pedal and cursed at the thing, just like I, her old Pa, used to do. The truck began to rumble in a horrible rhythm of misfires, backfires, and quaking like a broken wheat thresher, but it was running!

She heard voices. She hoped they were more interested in the fire than her.

Ruby pressed the brake and tried to jam the gear shift where she'd seen me do it. The gears moaned and complained as she ground them together.

“Must be the other pedal.”

Some of the brothers and a couple women had come outside and approached the burning generator. One of them ran up to the truck.

“You get out of that automobile!” he said placing his hand on the door handle. Ruby pressed in the clutch. The gear shift easily engaged. She let out the pedal and the truck jerked suddenly forward knocking the man backwards and sending the truck off on a bumpy spin around the compound.The man jumped up and gave chase.

"Come back here you!"

Once out of the light of the blaze, Ruby realized she couldn't see a thing without the headlamps. She fumbled for a lever but could feel nothing. With the truck still lumbering forward, she ducked under the dash to have a look in the dim light. She found a likely candidate and pulled it. The engine began to die. She quickly pushed it back in and pulled another.

“Maybe that was it.”

Ruby looked up from under the dash just in time to see the headlamps light up what she was about to run into. She screamed and covered her eyes with both hands. There was an explosion of old wood as the outhouse was reduced to splinters and dust. A book flew up and plastered it's cover against the windshield.

“Godliness of the Submissive Female, By J. G. Tobias,” it read.

Behind her, was a scream and splash as the brother chasing her fell into the outhouse pit. The generator gas tank finally exploded. People ran screaming. Ruby tried to stay calm during her first driving lesson, but the truck was jumping over rocks and lumber. The steering wheel, as it turned out, was harder to turn than a pig in a chute. She worked hard with both hands just to avoid hitting houses and the people that would occasionally find themselves haplessly in her path.

One man was able to catch up to her and grab onto the side of the truck. He was trying to get his feet up on the bed when he was dispatched by stalks of corn Ruby suddenly found herself in.

“I need to go faster,” Ruby said, “let's try another gear.

She had seen me shift a thousand times. Where was that next gear? Another man was chasing the truck and about to grab on. Like reading a book, Ruby went to the next gear to the right: third, caused the truck to leap forward. The engine strained and almost died. The truck moved through it's obstacle course at twice the speed, but ironically, Ruby observed, it was a little easier to steer.

Eventually she found the path and the road that lead out of the compound. She was nearly out when a large man stepped in front of the truck and put a hand up. it was Brother Tobias. She hit the brakes and the truck sputtered stalled. 

"Oh dear." she said trying to start the thing again.

Brother Tobias approached. The truck lurched when she hit the starter button. she pushed the clutch in and tried again.

"Step out child." he said with sinister calmness.

Ruby looked straight ahead and  frantically worked to start the engine, pumping the gas and cursing at it.

"Such sinful language! What's the use, you're in the middle of desert, you can't even drive my child."

The truck suddenly started.

"Oh yeah," said Ruby"

She reved the engin to it's maximum, popped the clutch and the truck shot ahead. The rear tire rolled over the fat man's foot. She could hear him howling in pain as she drove out of so-called “Heaven”.

After a couple of miles up hill, she looked back at the the view. Flames and bedlam; people running every which way, the generator exploding every once in a while, nearby structures were beginning to ignite. The whole valley was lit up with the yellow glow of flames.

"Can't drive. I can drive just fine you tub of lard!"

Ruby smiled for the first time in weeks.

The woman held the baby and paced back and forth nervously looking at us. Charlotte and I had been tied back-to-back sitting on the floor, rags tied in our mouths kept us from calling for help. The woman's husband, after securing us, had left, presumably to fetch the man with the thimbles on his fingers.

Kohn had told me the child's location because of my considerable scrap in the one-sided bar fight, but he made it clear, with just a flash of his eye, that that was the end of his favor and if I was caught I was a stranger to him, or worse.

Charlotte's bound hands were against my own. I worried about taking a liberty, but something caused me to take her fingers in mine. She entwined my fingers and held them firmly. We turned and looked at one another.

Charlotte started speaking into her gag “Water,” it sounded like.

The woman tried to ignore it but Charlotte persisted. The woman put the baby in the crib and returned to Charlotted. She pulled the gag over her chin.

“Surely,” Charlotte gasped. “You would not deny me a sip of water.” She spoke with the desperation of a condemned man giving his last request at the stake.

The woman said nothing but returned with a ladle of water.

“Thank you, thank you most kindly good lady.”

“I ain't no lady.”

“It must be hard to be barren.” Charlotte just as the woman was about to replace her gag.

A tear came to the woman's eye. She brushed it away, ashamed of betraying her feelings.

“I got sick. I got sick with a social disease cause I'm...”

“You must love this little girl like it was your own.”

“Yes, yes I surely do.”

She stood up and began pacing again. The tears flowed freely. The eyes went to the crib again and again.

“It would break your heart if someone came and stole away her from you, wouldn't it. You'd stay up at nights, always vexed whether she was safe, whether she was happy.”

“Yes, yes I would.”

The woman sat in a chair and covered her eyes. Her back convulsed.

“Then you know exactly how it is that I feel.”

The woman got up from the chair. "Stop it, just stop." 

She quickly replaced Charlotte's gag. Charlotte did not protest.

“Just stop,” She yelled.

The baby started crying. Both sets of eyes shot towards the crib. Both hearts ached. The woman picked up the baby and calmed it's wails rocking and speaking softly. Charlotte fingers squeezed my own with more strength that I knew she had.

“I knowed it. You're her, aren't you? That rich woman,” she said in a low voice. “They said... they said you didn't want it, that it was all alone in the world, that it needed a momma.

“But you don't look rich, not no more. You don't look like someone who gave up their baby. And here you are came across town and stole in my windah to grab your...” She began pacing again. “You changed you mind, that's it. You gave her up, and then you felt emptiness in your heart and changed you mind.”

“Well you cain't.” She stood in front of Charlotte and bent low. “You cain't change your mind. She's mine now and she loves ME.”

Charlotte eyes looked into the woman's. She made no sound. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh curse be.” She stood and went to the window. “No, no, no! Curse it all to hell!”

The baby began to cry again.

“Shhhh shh shh.” She said sweetly. She put her back in the crib and kissed her forehead. “I want you to know somethin.” she said so softly I could barely hear. “I love you, and I will always, always love you. You hear me little one? You hear?” she took off a cross she wore on her neck and placed it in the crib.

She wiped her eyes and hurried back to Charlotte and I. She began untying the ropes.

“He'll be back any time now.”

When we were free Charlotte hugged the woman's shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, a thousand times... tha...”

“Jus git would ya?” she said wiping her eyes and standing tall. “Do one thing for me first.”

“Yes, anything dear lady.” Charlotte said.

“Hit me.” Her eyes turned to me.

“What!”

“Hard.”

“I could never...”

“Mister, I won't be the first time, and at your worst you'll be kinder than he.”

I stammered.

“If he don't come home to a shiner, he'll know... and then, well I don't even want to think.”

“But, I... I just can't give a woman a shiner! I just can't!”

“Blood would be better actually, if you can manage.”

“It's okay mister, I been hit plenty before, you ain't gunna hurt me.”

Charlotte took my arm. I looked at her. She gave a small nod.

“And hurry, there ain't no time.”

“Forgive me.” I said to both God and all present. I took a deep breath and I did the unthinkable.

Charlotte helped her up. The woman touched her face and looked at her hand.

“No blood, but I think it'll do.”

“What's your name sweet woman?”

“It's Betty, Betty Kramer.”

“Betty, I will pray for you. I will pray for a miracle.” Charlotte went to the crib and lifted her child to her breast. She picked up the the cross on the chain. “I'll tell her. I'll tell her about you.”

“I'm glad you know.” She dabbed at her tears and tossed the hanky as if discarding an rotten tomato. “That thing kept me up at nights, she's a screamer ya know, took all my time. I'm glad to be rid of her the more i think about it!”

Betty watched us until we were swallowed by the darkness of the street. Then she fell to her knees and wept.

Continued in episode 18