9. Cora
Cora
W e just received word from a passing merchant that Elias’ wife, the woman who appeared out of nowhere, is in labor – and it’s not going well.
Elias had gone to the merchant in the village to bring them supplies, but the local midwife recently moved.
There is no one here to help. It sounds as though the mother has been at it for hours, and laboring that long can leave her in danger of infection – or worse.
The thought of her out there, with nobody to help her, it makes me sick to my stomach. I took an oath to do all that I was capable of to help people, and if I fail that now, I will never be able to look myself in the eye again.
"I’m telling you, I’m not staying here while that woman needs me!”
I stab my finger in the air, making sure he knows that I am not about to let him ruin this. I get that he’s worried, but there is a woman out there who needs my help - and God only knows how much I need the redemption.
"You walk out that door, don’t bother coming back," Boone snarls, as he rounds on me, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and something else entirely. I doubt he’d admit to it, but I can recognize is as fear.
He doesn’t want me to leave because he’s worried that I won’t come back.
And, after what happened to his wife, I can’t say I blame him.
I stuff a few more things in a satchel – rags, some water, a few herbs I’ve gathered from the surrounding area – and toss it over my shoulder.
"Fine," I spit back in return. "I’m not going to stand by and do nothing. If you want to, that’s your business, but I’m not letting another woman die in childbirth when I know I could make a difference!”
My voice is harsher than I intended it to be, but shit, it’s not as though I have reason to hold back. Time is of the essence here, and Boone is wasting it with every passing word.
"Which direction is the cabin?” I demand, as I stride for the door. He wouldn’t tell me bother, but God, if this isn’t enough to convince him that we’re in a race against time, I don’t know what will be. He hesitates a moment before he answers, and I pat my leg, calling Woodward to me.
"Hey, buddy," I murmur, scratching him behind the ears. "You can show me, right?"
I glance up at Boone.
"Unless you’ve got a problem with him leaving, too."
He strides to the door, standing before it, cutting me off from leaving.
"You go out there, you’ll get lost."
"Not with the dog."
"Or cold."
"I’ve got your jacket," I point out, patting my arm, which is covered with the beat-up leather of the jacket he was wearing the day I met him. "I’m going to be fine. But she might not."
"By the time you get there-"
"By the time I get there it might be too late," I finish up for him. "But that doesn’t mean that I should just leave her to face it alone, should I? I can do what I can. I might be able to help her, or the baby, or-"
"Cora, you don’t know what you’re walking into. Not with the kind of man Elias is."
"The kind of man who would lock his doors in the face of something like this?” I explode, unable to hold back my frustration any longer.
Boone’s face darkens. I can tell he doesn’t appreciate the comparison, but if he’s got a problem with it, he can tell me when I get back.
But he doesn’t move a muscle, not even gesturing to the door to let me past. Woodward lets out a whine at my feet, clearly not sure who’s side to take here.
I draw in a deep breath. I don’t want to have to whip out the big guns, but I will not let him keep me here. All I can think of are the cries of pain of the woman I failed, and how I will never let that happen to anyone, not ever again, not as long as I live.
"Is this what Anna would have wanted?"
There it is. His jaw clenches at the mention of her name. And because he knows I am right. I might not know a lot about his wife, but I know that she lost her life senselessly – and that to condemn another woman to the same fate would be tantamount to rendering it pointless.
I push past him, not waiting for a response, guiding Woodward by his collar to the door. He sniffs the air, and then takes off – I go to follow him, but before I can, I feel a grip on my arm. I turn to face him, and find his eyes nearly black as he glowers at me.
"Don’t bother comin’ back, girl."
"Don’t worry," I spit to him. "The kind of man who’d leave a woman to suffer isn’t the kind I’d want to come back to, anyway."
And, with that, I turn to follow Woodward into the forest, and pray that I haven’t wasted too much time out here.