Note from the authors: While this story is within the PG-13 limits, it does contain adult themes about a married couple's struggle to reunion their marriage after years apart.

"We're home Kid," Lou smiled as she opened the door to her tiny room where she had been living for the last four months while her husband recovered from his injuries. "Well, at least our home for the next few days until Dr. Logan is convinced you are fit to travel."

With her hand she led him inside; he hesitantly followed her, tapping his cane with his other hand. "Maybe it would be better if I stayed in the hospital until I learn to get around a little better."

"Kid, you can't keep occupying that hospital bed when others need it." She knew he was still apprehensive about living with her again, but she was not about to let him push her away again. "Besides Dr. Logan said he wasn't going to release you until he's convinced you can adjust to different surroundings."

He nodded. He knew the truth was the good doctor was concerned he would revert back into self-imposed isolated state, refusing to let Lou be there for him. He hated the thought of being a burden to Lou for the rest of his life. Then just two days ago, he discovered she was four months pregnant and she broke down in his arms telling him how much she needed him. He realized shutting her out was not helping her, it was breaking her heart. He had already caused her too much pain, and he had sworn a long time ago to never do that to her again.

"Good, it looks like they've already brought over your stuff." She turned and looked at him as he looked as if he were trying to peer through the darkness in vain. "There's not much to the room. The bed is against the left wall. The bath area is in the right back corner. In the back left corner there is a settee. And finally, to the right of the front door is a small cooking area with a table and two chairs."

"Sounds cozy." He let go of her hand, wanting to explore the room on his own. With his left hand, he tapped his cane to feel for obstacles in his path. He purposely headed towards the kitchen area first, trying to feel his way through the unknown darkness. He held his right arm out to feel around. His hand ran across a small wooden cupboard which he could tell was well worn from the wood's textured surface. Next he found a cold cast iron stove. Lou stood in the middle of the room and watched as he found the table and chairs.

"My Braille books," he noted as touched the texts sitting on the table, he opened one and gently ran his fingers across the indented paper. He walked over to the settee. As he ran his hand across its soft worn material and he noticed that it was too small to sleep on. Then he crossed to the bed, realizing that it was the only place in the room where they could sleep. Lou silently backed towards the door as he walked towards her. "Lou?"

"I'm right here Kid." She smiled as he found his way to her and took her in his arms. She felt so soft and strong, as always. He tentatively ran a finger over the soft skin on her face. The feel and shape of her face was familiar, but it still felt strange after so long apart to hold her; and her tiny waist had been replaced by a protruding, pregnant belly that felt like he was holding someone else. He caressed her arm and then stopped as he heard a soft crackling noise and felt the warm heat of a fire. "You didn't mention the fireplace."

"I wanted to see if you'd notice it on your own. We're right in front of it."

"It's a nice little room."

"Hhhmm. It reminds me a lot of that little cabin we stayed in at the Redfern Station."

Kid dropped his cane at her reference to when they first made love. I'll never be that man again. She deserves better than this.

Lou immediately felt him tense even before she even heard the cane drop. "I'll get it."

"I don't need you to get it for me," he snapped as got down on his knees to feel across the cold wooden floor for it.

"Fine." Lou crossed to sit on the bed and watch him search for the cane. It was lying six inches from his right hand, but she knew he needed to do this for himself.

He found it and got up. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"What?" Lou looked at him questioningly.

"Lou you deserve much better than a blind man for a husband."

She stood up and crossed to him. "Don't you start that again, Kid McCloud."

"Lou, I just don't want to be a burden."

"Is that what you think you are? Let me tell you something, you may not have taken our wedding vows seriously, but I did."

"Of course I took them seriously, but this has nothing to do with that."

"For better or worse, Kid. In sickness and in health! I'm your wife whether you want me or not." Tears began streaming down her face.

"Lou, I'm not the man you married."

"Yes you are. You may have lost your sight, but you're still the same Kid I fell in love with the day you found out I was a girl."

Kid smiled her comment.

"What is that smile for?" She demanded as she dried her tears with a handkerchief.

"That's when I fell in love with you, too. You were so brave and strong. I'd never met a woman like that before." He lowered his head. "I knew then I'd love you for the rest of my life, but I never imagined..."

"You're a fighter, too, Kid. We can get through this."

"I'm never going to see again."

"I know." Lou's voice was soft. "But we will adapt and learn to adjust our lives. I won't have my child seeing his father sitting around feeling sorry for himself."

Kid nodded. Lou had lost so much over the years. First, her father abandoned his family when she was a small child and then her mother died less than two years later. Wicks had stolen her innocence when she was only thirteen. Then during the Express, they lost both Ike and later Noah. Then after finally giving her younger siblings a home, she lost both Jeremiah and Teresa to cholera. He thought back to her letters after their death, remembering how useless she felt. She had tracked him down in the middle of a battlefield because she needed him to give her a purpose to go on. Now, he realized he needed to go on living so that she could.

"I don't want that either." He wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She rested her head against his chest. "It's going to take some time for us to adjust."

"I just feel like things will never be normal again."

"Then we'll have to make a new normal for us." She looked up at him. "I love you Kid, please don't ever forget that."

"I love you, too, Lou." He moved his hand to touch her rounding belly and felt a soft fluttering like butterflies flying around inside. He longed to see her. He tried to imagine what she looked like with their child growing inside her but he knew it would never be the same as actually seeing her.

"Kid the bath's ready," Lou said.

"Lou, you really should've let me help you," he sighed.

"Oh no, there is no way I'd let you try to manage those stairs carrying buckets of water." She shook her head out of habit even though she knew he couldn't see it.

"When I mentioned a bath I didn't realize you'd have to do that," he grumbled with embarrassment. "I don't want you having to wait on me, especially in your condition."

"Nonsense, I'm just having a baby. Besides, I've been lugging buckets of water up here for the last four months for my own baths." She crossed to him and helped guide him to the chair she placed next to the tub.

"But now ya'll have to lug twice as much water."

"The tub is big enough for both of us, well, make that three of us." She started to chuckle but when he saw the worried look on his face she added, "Or you can just save some hot water for me."

Kid nodded, embarrassed about his own uneasiness about sharing a bath with his wife. "Of course, or you can get in first."

"No, I know you've been looking forward to a real bath ever since the doctor said you could leave the infirmary." She started unbuttoning his shirt.

Kid jumped not so much at her touch, but of the sensations it stirred in him. "I'm perfectly capable of undressing myself."

"You used to like when I'd undress you."

"Lou please." He lowered his head in shame.

"Alright," she said softly, trying to hide the hurt he was causing. "If you need me, I'll be on the bed resting." She turned and walked towards the bed trying to give him the privacy he needed. She couldn't help but wonder if their former intimacy would ever be the same.

"Thank you," he said as he began to undress.

"No problem," she answered, watching him stripping down. She looked away a moment, feeling awkward and strange herself now.

"Lou?"

"Yes Kid?" She turned to look at him, worried something was wrong.

"I love you."

She smiled before she stretched out on the bed. "I love you too, Kid. And I thank God every day that you survived that grenade."

Her words warmed his heart, knowing how much she meant them.

She sighed, softly, watching him, this near stranger who she loved so much and had married what seemed like a lifetime ago. They'd been married four years - but lived as man and wife for only the first couple of weeks before he'd left to go back to Virginia. For heaven's sake, she silently reminded herself, we'd only even known each other a year and a half before the war, and had lived apart more than twice that since then.

They had both gone through separate hells in the interminable years of the war, sharing only sporadic letters when the unreliable mail managed to get through. Though their reunion had been passionate - the new life growing inside her proof of that - they had never really had a chance to build a marriage in the first place. Now they were starting from square one, learning about each other after so much time and pain had changed both of them.

She idly thought back to an elderly woman, Mabel Williams, who'd stayed in Tompkins' hotel when she'd worked there, and who'd taken a shine to her. Just before Lou had decided to run off to war after Kid, Mabel had offered some wise advice. "I was happily married for forty years," Mabel had told her as Lou cleaned her hotel room. "What was your secret, Mabel?" Lou had smiled back. "Well, it ain't what you think. It ain't love, at least not all of it. That's just the start. What most folks don't know is, marriage is . . . well, it's like a flower." Lou had been puzzled. "A flower, Mabel?" She'd thought maybe if Mabel were interested in re-marriage now that she was a widow, she'd be a perfect match for Teaspoon; they could sit around talking in riddles to one another. "Ex-actly," said Mabel. "A flower won't grow, nor even live, if you don't work at it, tend it. Neglect - that's what kills most marriages I've seen go bad. Keep that in mind, keep tending your marriage, and you'll be all right, dearie."

Lou sighed again, fingering the soft counterpane on the bed. If her marriage was a flower, thanks to the war it had been put in the closet and not watered for about three and a half years. She worried, about how much extra work and care it would take to make it strong and healthy again, to make them as close as they were when they were just married. Especially since Kid's injury to his eyes had damaged him so deeply as a man . . . he needed to heal from the wounds to his spirit as well as his body, even as they got to know each other all over again.

After Kid had finished undressing, he checked the water with his hand, and noticed it was not steamy hot as he had expected. In fact, after he stepped into the tub, he noted that the water was only fairly warm and by the time he would be finished, maybe not even that. His heart sank at the thought of his pregnant wife having to take a cold bath or worse, carry more buckets of water up the three flights of stairs to their room. As much as the idea terrified him at the moment, he knew there was only one reasonable solution. "Lou, the water is cooling down rather quickly; you probably should go on and get in here too."

"Are you sure?" Lou asked surprised by his offer. "I don't mind taking a cold bath."

"Nonsense," Kid said as he waved his arm for her to join him. "Besides, it ain't like you haven't seen me without my long johns on before," he chuckled, recalling her similar words to him back at the swimming hole in Sweetwater.

She laughed, "Okay, then."

Lou crossed back to the bathing area and undressed, while her husband scooted to one end of the tub to make room for her.

Kid tried to keep his mind on other things as his wife joined him a moment later. As she stepped into the tub, she noticed the temperature herself and apologized, "I'm sorry Kid. I'm so used to not heating the water up as much these days, I forgot I needed to heat it up more for you if I was going to get in later."

"Why are you not taking hot baths? I know how much you love them, the hotter the better."

"The doctor says the heat isn't good for the baby."

"Oh," Kid said as Lou squeezed into the tub and sat between his legs, facing him. "I guess I hadn't thought about stuff like that."

Lou could not help but smile as she felt his tension, when her legs rubbed against his. They had shared a very physical relationship, even before they were married. She was torn, between wanting their old closeness back again, right now, and fearing that pushing him too fast would only drive him farther away. She sighed and pulled over the small wooden dish of soft-soap, grimacing as she scooped out a handful of the slimy mess.

"What is that?" Kid asked, flinching his nose.

"Soft-soap," Lou said as she scraped some into his hand. "Supplies have been scarce. One of the other nurses showed me how to make it using lye and leftover fat drippings."

Feeling the familiar oozing soft-soap slipping between his fingers, and starting to rub it into a lather on the cloth she handed him, Kid remarked, "I remember helping my mother make soap, seemed like it took forever, all that stirring and not lettin' the fire go out all day under that mess." He sighed, realizing his dreams for a better life for his wife and child seemed hopeless now. "I never wanted you to suffer like this."

"Kid I would do it again in a heartbeat for you." Lou ran her hand through the coarse hair on his bearded face.

Kid put his hand on hers, stroking her knuckles with his thumb gently. "But I don't want you to."

"Things will be better when we are back with our family," Lou tried to reassure him. She smiled devilishly as an idea to lighten the mood popped into her head. "Kid, I got to tell you this new style of yours makes you look twenty years older," she said, twisting the ends of the rough, untrimmed beard in her fingers.

"What new style?" Kid asked with a confused look on his face.

"The beard."

"Oh," Kid muttered. With being sick in an overcrowded and understaffed Army hospital daily grooming such as shaving did not happen very often. Lou had tended to him when he was sick, but since he'd regained his strength, he wouldn't let her close enough to him again, so he had unintentionally grown a full beard over the last few months. He ran his hands over the coarse whiskers. "Yeah, too be honest I'm not too fond of it either but I guess I'm stuck with it."

"How come?"

"Because I'm not about to try shaving it off when I can't see what I'm doing."

"I can do it," Lou reminded him.

"Maybe when we get back to Rock Creek, right now we don't have the stuff to do it and I don't want to squander our money on…"

Before he could finish, Lou interrupted, "I have your shaving kit right here on the shelf."

"How? I thought it was lost on our way to the hospital."

"Joe Walters brought it along with the rest of your belongings when he came to visit after Lee surrendered."

"Four years of fighting, all that pain and suffering, all for nothing," Kid sighed remorsefully.

"It wasn't for nothing Kid." Lou tried to reassure him. "You were defending your home."

"My home should've been with you. I should've …"

"Kid, don't." Lou interrupted. "We can't change what happened. We just got to move on."

"But…"

"No buts Kid. I want to focus on our future; the baby, starting the ranch and building a new life together, just like we had always planned when you came home."

Kid smiled at her statement. "Can we start by getting rid of this beard?"

"The sooner the better," she said, playfully splashing some water over his chest. "But we'd best get washed before the water freezes."

He nodded, and was surprised when she took the cloth from his hand. "The way you're lollygagging about it, we'll be in here when the water's frozen solid," she said huskily. "Let me help."

He could sense her leaning over to put her hand into the soap dish again. He tensely sat in his darkness, unsure of what was coming next. His sore muscles were stiff from misuse and stress, and he gripped the sides of the tub, until he felt her slathering the soft, slippery soap over his chest, rubbing and lathering with her small hands. Although he could not see his wife's nude body, he sensed her intimate proximity. He felt his body reacting as any man would to share a bath with his wife. As she washed him, he cursed the images running through his head as well as the desires awakening deep within him. She could never want you like that now, he told himself. No matter how much she says she still loves you, it's not the way it was before.

"Relax, you're so tense," she said softly, kneading the muscles in his shoulders, then leaning forward on her knees and reaching around him to scrub his back. He felt her smooth yet protruding belly brush against his. He was still in awe of how much her body had seemed to change in the last several months. Of everything he missed being able to see, the sight of Lou carrying their child was the one he longed for most of all.

As the warmth of the water, her comforting hands, helped him unwind gradually, as the tension left under her touch. "Isn't that better," she murmured.

He nodded, and relaxed even further at the feel of warm water pouring over his shoulders and chest, and her hands brushing down to rinse him.

Kid found himself disappointed as she got out of the tub and padded to the stove. "Got a little more water heating up here," she called. "And some nice towels warming. Sit on up and we'll get you cleaned up so you don't look quite so much like a mountain man," she teased, her voice coming closer. She glanced over at him, smiling to herself at how much more relaxed he looked, as well as how disappointed he'd looked when she'd gotten out of the tub. "Always leave 'em wanting more," Rachel had always told her, but judging from his reaction to her bathing him, she supposed it wouldn't be long before he was ready to be her husband in every sense of the word again, blind or no.

Lou guided her husband, who was walking tentatively along the wooden sidewalk with his cane, toward the large green Pullman car. It was one of the new luxury sleepers, and Lou, for one, was looking forward to the ride back home. She hadn't been too excited about the prospect of riding in a stagecoach for weeks, pregnant, to get back to their home in Rock Creek from Virginia; and she was grateful she wouldn't have to. She had spent the last four and a half months nursing in a Confederate Army Hospital, and as a show of thanks for her help, her patients and the other doctors and nurses had all taken up a collection to pay for the expensive Pullman car service.

She glanced at Kid. He looked nervous, as this was his first time off the army hospital grounds. Being in public for the first time since he was blinded, was a new and probably scary experience, but he was trying his best not to show his apprehension. Lou knew him well enough to sense it, as she carefully guided him along.

A handsome young man with a cap bearing a nickel badge reading "Pullman Porter" came up to Lou, glancing at her husband. "Are you on the Pullman line, ma'am?" the young porter asked. When she nodded and showed him her ticket, he cheerfully offered to take their bags. "I can handle it," Kid said, almost irritably.

"Kid, it's his job," Lou said low, looking apologetically at the porter.

The porter, though, had pretended not to notice Kid's tone. "I'll just take them up to be loaded, then?" the young man said affably, and Lou quietly slipped him a tip before he trotted ahead of them with their small amount of luggage.

Directed by another porter, the couple boarded the elegantly appointed train and found their seats, facing an elderly pair of widows. Lou contentedly sat with her head against her husband's shoulder, thrilled that they were finally free to go home and start their lives together with their friends in Rock Creek. His cheek rubbed against her forehead, as she looked out the window at the landscape flashing by.

As night drew on, a porter came down the row of seats, folding down upper berths suspended above the seats, to convert the seats into a set of one upper and one lower sleeping berth. The berths were big enough for two, and Lou was grateful that she would be able to lie down for a while, as she changed behind the curtained section into her nightgown and helped Kid into his nightclothes.

Once they were securely in their upper berth, she gratefully lay in Kid's arms, lulled by the rocking motion and strangely comforting sounds from the train. Kid's arm was draped over her, his hand gently stroking her pregnant belly, and she dozed contentedly, her head on his shoulder. She marveled at how natural it felt in his strong arms, even after so long apart, and watched his hand gliding softly over the fabric stretched over her stomach.

Just as the fuzzy feeling of sleep started to take over, Lou dimly noticed that Kid's breathing next to her sounded anything but restful. He was … almost panting, she thought, incredulously, just as the baby suddenly twisted in protest of her position, lying prone on her back. Kid nervously jumped at the baby's violent movement, and jerked his hand away as if it was burned.

Lou sat up uncomfortably. "Are you okay, Lou?" Kid whispered.

"Well, my back is bothering me a little," she admitted. "And I just don't think the baby likes it when I lie flat on my back, he's kicking like crazy," she commented, feeling in the dark for Kid's hand and placing it back on her belly. "Feel that?" she said. "He's getting really strong."

He felt a light fluttering, followed by a series of violent kicks against his hand.

"So he likes it better when you lie on your side?" Kid asked, amazed.

"Yes," she answered, turning to snuggle against him, like two spoons in a drawer, her back pressed up against him. They lay side by side for a few moments, Kid feeling the baby's now gentler movements. Kid reached up to rub her back, and she felt her sore muscles relaxing.

Lou sensed that Kid's desire had not lessened, but waited to see what he would do about it. She knew he had some doubts now that he was blind … about himself as a man. She hoped the talks they had recently had before leaving the hospital had helped him realize he was still her husband, and that they could still have a true marriage.

"Lou?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Mmm hmm?" she answered, stroking his arm over her side, and feeling the goosebumps rising on his flesh.

"Did you get a chance to talk to the doctor about . . . about what you can and can't … uh, do?" he murmured into her hair, his hand traveling higher and caressing her.

"Yes, I did talk to him, now that you mention it," she whispered back over her shoulder. She lapsed into silence for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his hand through the soft, silky fabric of her nightgown.

"Lou?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"What did he say?" Kid said, his voice a little strained.

She turned in his arms, running her fingers tenderly over his hair and tracing the stubble on his face, and answered softly but teasingly. "Well, he said I shouldn't lift things that are too heavy. And I shouldn't take really hot baths..."

Kid had unbuttoned her nightgown and was running his lips down her neckline as his hand found its way inside the top of her gown. Lou found it harder to concentrate on her teasing remarks as he moved lower. "Really," he remarked. "Did he say it was all right for me to do this?"

Lou cleared her throat. "He wasn't specific, but I think … I think it feels okay. I think you can if you want," she said, a little shakily, as her heart started racing at Kid's intimate touch.

"I want," he said huskily, his soft lips pressed wetly against her skin. After another pause, he asked, "Is there enough room in here for you to sit up? The baby's still kicking away in there … maybe he'd like it better if you did."

"There's room," she managed to say, and Kid helped her sit up, gently rolling her until she was seated astride him.

"This more comfortable for you?" Kid asked, gently running his hands along her still slender hips and down her legs, pushing her nightgown up.

"Well, it's a little more comfortable… let me just find a good spot…" she said, running her fingernails lightly down his taut, muscled chest. She smiled as a low moan escaped him.

"The doctor … what did he say, Lou?" he panted desperately, as she moved her hands down to tug at his bedclothes.

"He said I could do this," she whispered, leaning forward and lowering herself back down. "And this," she continued, forgetting everything but the sensations rushing through her as her husband's hands roamed over her. She reached for the molding in the elaborately appointed car for leverage and shut her eyes blissfully.

Lou's eyes popped back open, startled suddenly by the sharp sound of a buzzer ringing in the berth below them. The couple remembered guiltily that the pair of elderly ladies that had been assigned to the pair of seats across from theirs had also been assigned to the sleeping berth below them. "I thought we were being quiet enough," Kid whispered, mortified.

"They're probably going to have us thrown off the train," Lou giggled back. They lay frozen, and desperately trying not to laugh, as they waited for the porter's response.

They heard one of the ladies' voices quietly speaking to the porter. "George, I think the passengers above us could use some privacy … do you think we could take another berth, I noticed there were several empty ones in this car?"

"Sure thing, ma'am. Right this way," the porter responded, and Lou and Kid, amazed, heard the sounds of the ladies' things being handed out to the porter.

Lou whispered to Kid, "The car is half empty … with the sound of the train, if we are quiet, I don't think anyone else is close enough to be bothered by us."

Kid gently stroked her warm, soft hair and whispered hoarsely, "Thank goodness … because I still really need you."

"Just one thing first, cowboy," she whispered back, buttoning her nightgown and sticking her head out the curtained compartment. The ladies were standing and leaving their compartment. "Ma'am? Mrs. Walker? I'm sorry if we disturbed you and your sister," she said sheepishly.

The little widow grinned impishly back at Louise's disheveled head sticking from the curtain, her hair askew. "Quite all right, Mrs. McCloud. I was young once myself, and I know you mentioned your husband has been in the hospital for several months. I expect you'd like some more privacy. Have a … good evening, my dears."

"I intend to," Louise said to herself, as she leaned back into the compartment, pulling the curtains tight, and amid the clicking and clacking and rumbling of the train, focused her attention on her husband . . . and getting their married life back on the right track.

Kid woke up, disoriented as usual for a moment in the darkness that surrounded him in all his waking moments now. His dreams were still vivid, still so full of movement and color, but his reality held a sameness and blankness that had frightened and suffocated him, at first. Time and practice, and the love and patience of his wife, had helped him to overcome his fears. He had learned to use his other senses in place of his eyes, especially his hearing, which had seemed to become keener in the nine months since he lost his sight. Now he lay in the darkness, listening . . .

It was still night time. The eerie stillness in the winter night told him that; nothing could be heard but the ticking of the clock. But there was a note glaringly missing in the silence: Lou's soft breathing beside him. He passed a hand next to him idly, to confirm what he already knew, that she had left their bed.

He paused a moment, waiting and listening. He craned his head, hoping to hear Lou's distinctive steps, once so light and quick, but now slow and almost ponderous the closer she came to giving birth to their first baby. Not hearing her, he put his feet over the side of their bed and felt his way to the door. He passed the creaking board in the floor and felt for the door, opening it and passing into the hallway. Running his hand along the wall, he took soft steps and strained for some sound of her.

Kid headed down the stairway, anticipation mingling with a little dread. Likely as not, Lou was simply making one of her more and more frequent trips to the outhouse. She couldn't sleep through the night anymore without having to make at least one trip outside. This close to her due date, of course he couldn't help but worry. He stopped at the porch and groped for his cane, finding it, he opened the door as he pulled on his coat.

His feet crunched in the snow as he trudged toward the outhouse, counting his steps. The wind whistled in his ears, but another sound soon arrested his attention.

Lou's low whimpering moan reached his ear, and he panicked, calling out to her and rushing forward as best he could in the slippery snow.

"I'm here, Kid," she answered weakly, relief evident in her tone. He followed her trembling voice and opened the outhouse door.

"I need help," she said, her voice strained and hoarse with pain. "I think my water broke, and-" she stopped, moaning again as another contraction gripped her.

Kid stepped forward and slipped an arm under her legs and around her shoulders. Her heavy breathing rasped in his ear as she pressed her damp face against his neck. "It hurts so much, I can't even walk," she managed. Her soft voice, like a scared child's, tugged at his heart. "I didn't know what I'd do if you didn't notice I was gone -"

"You know I couldn't sleep without you next to me," he admonished her, cuddling her against himself. She managed to direct him toward the house and they made it to the porch.

He pushed the door open and carried her to the couch in the parlor, laying her down on it.

"I'll go across and get Polly-" he started, but her pained cry interrupted him.

"Please don't go," she wept. "Don't leave me, I'm afraid."

Kid recognized the echo of terror in his fearless wife's voice, and hesitated. His heart seemed to stop when she cried out in real agony. Torn by the anguish in her cries, he knelt beside her helplessly. "Tell me what I can do," he begged her.

She seemed calmer after a moment, and gulped for air. "The pain is a little better now. You'd better go get Polly," she gasped. "Hurry, please."

He kissed her and picked up his cane, tapping it on the floor and out the door. Her ear-shattering scream as he reached the bottom of the steps went through him like a gunshot and he stumbled in his rush to get back to her.

The bell over the door tinkled as he came back in, and her outraged voice assaulted him. "I told you to get Polly!" she screamed. "What the hell are you doing back here already?"

"I - -I heard you screaming - -"

"If you were passing something the size of a watermelon through where your child is going, you'd scream too. Get some me help, now, you low down, mealy mouthed -

He turned and hurried out the door, and she sobbed out his name. Fearfully, he pushed the door open with another tinkle of the bell. "What, Honey?" he said gently.

Her tiny voice reached him as if from a great distance. "I'm sorry," she said meekly, heaving for breath again.

"It's okay, but I'd better get Polly now," he reassured her. "I love you."

"Just get her and never mind your I love yous," she snapped, irritable again, as another contraction started building. "Please," she begged.

He rushed away and steeled himself at her deathly scream as the next contraction reached its peak, behind him. It took all his resolve to keep going and get the help he knew she needed from another woman right now.

Kid reached the steps of the Hunters' house and tapped his way up the steps. He pounded on the door and heard Polly and Teaspoon's steps coming down their stairs.

"It's time, son?" Teaspoon's sleepy voice asked.

"Yes, can Polly come back with me?"

"I'm on my way, Kid," Polly called. "Sugarlips, run over and tell Buck to get Rachel and the doctor. Kid, I'll be over once Teaspoon comes back from Buck's. I can't leave baby Jo alone."

Teaspoon's steps echoed past Kid, as he patted the young man's shoulder reassuringly.

"Is there anything I can do for her while we're waiting?" Kid asked anxiously, his fear revealed in his voice. "She's in so much pain and she's not making any sense."

"Just go on back and be there for her. She'll be frightened and may say things she doesn't really mean when the pain is at its worst. Don't let that bother you, just help her get through it," Polly said sympathetically, remembering her own baby's birth not all that long ago. "I won't be long."

But it seemed like an eternity to Kid as he waited by Lou's side. He held her as she shrieked in pain through her contractions, her voice unrecognizable. She alternated between clinging to him and cursing him, but he continued to comfort and whisper encouraging words until Polly came.

Polly's kind voice ringing through the parlor, sounded like an angel of mercy. Rachel arrived with the doctor shortly after, and Lou was helped upstairs. The women and the doctor stopped Kid when he tried to follow, ordering him to wait downstairs. The doctor's calm and reassuring voice eased his mind very little.

Teaspoon and Buck tried to distract Kid with idle chatter. But Kid kept listening for some sound from upstairs, and finally interrupted Teaspoon's seventeenth story. "I'm heading upstairs," he said abruptly.

"I'd stay out of there, Kid. Birthin' room ain't no proper place for a husband, lemme tell ya," Teaspoon advised. In his mind, Kid could almost see the former station master's expression, from his familiar, quirky inflections. "You ain't going to be the most welcome sight right about now, what with all the pain she's in on account of you."

"It isn't just because of Kid, Teaspoon," Buck objected, his voice dry and amused.

"She ain't going to see it that way right now, trust me," Teaspoon argued. "Best to lay low until the baby gets here. Ain't nothin' you can do now anyways - I reckon you done your part about nine months ago already," he chortled merrily, slapping Kid on the back.

Kid couldn't sit and listen to this anymore, and headed up the stairs. He wasn't about to sit around and do nothing now that his part was done. Lou needed him, and his heart heard hers calling for him. Reaching their bedroom, he found it locked. He slid down the wall outside the door, burying his face in his hands at the low moans and panting cries he heard from within. He could hear feet scrambling in the bedroom as the doctor and the women bustled around to help his wife. He placed a hand on the doorway, wishing with all his heart he could do something to ease her pain, and praying that it would soon be over and she would be all right. He felt tears threatening and rubbed his hands over his eyes at the thought that she might not make it through this ordeal. He sat helplessly, tortured by her cries but unable to leave his self-appointed post outside.

He jumped up when he heard her cry out again, this time calling for him.

"I'm here, Lou," he called back, frantically rattling the doorknob. In a panic, he shoved the door open with his shoulder before anyone inside could reach it, and tumbled into the room, careening into Polly and knocking a bowl she carried to the floor with a crash.

"Stay out of our way!" The doctor barked.

"Kid, she's really doing fine," Rachel's soothing voice came beside him. "Go on downstairs-"

"No," Lou panted. "Please- it helps me to hear him."

Kid knelt by Lou's side, wiping her face and murmuring comforting nonsense to her as she labored. "Keep talking," Lou begged. "Please, just keep talking to me."

The doctor interrupted, "One more big push, Louise."

Lou groaned as she held on to Kid's hands, and then fell back against the pillows with a cry of pain. Stricken at her suffering, Kid pressed his forehead against her, listening to her relieved gasps.

"Is it over-" Kid started, when he was cut off by a screeching cry from the end of the bed.

Lou murmured something, but Kid couldn't hear it over the din of their baby.

"It's a boy," the doctor shouted, trying to be heard over the little man's furious squalling.

"His lungs certainly sound healthy," Rachel laughed. "My land, I've never heard a newborn make such a racket in my life, have you, Polly?"

"No, I haven't," Polly chuckled back. "I think you two will have your hands full with this one."

Kid shook his head in disagreement as he waited for his son to be placed in Lou's outstretched arms. "It's like music to my ears - the most beautiful sound I've ever heard," he choked out, a catch in his own voice, as Lou leaned wearily against him, holding their hiccupping and sniffling baby boy in her arms.

"What's he look like, Lou?" Kid whispered, awestruck.

Lou hoarsely answered. "He looks just like you, Kid. Big blue eyes, same color hair. He's his daddy all over again in miniature."

"Oh, but he has your temper, sounds like," Kid joked as he sat down, holding her tightly in his arms.

"He's probably just hungry," Polly reminded them. "Babies cry to tell us what they need, so let's help him with that."

"Yes," the doctor agreed, his voice authoritative. "And after that, they both need their rest."

"I'll be sure they get it," Kid said protectively. He was surprised to hear noisy slurping replaced his son's wailing. "What's that noise?"

"Our son eating," Lou answered drowsily.

"Oh," he blushed before chuckling, "He sure sounds hungry."

Lou smiled, her sadness that Kid would never see their son's face outweighed by thankfulness that they were together as a family. "I love you, Kid," she whispered in his ear. "Thank you for being there for me when I needed you."

"Thank you for giving me our son," he answered humbly before kissing her forehead. "I love you both."

After getting an early start on the morning chores, Kid entered the house eager for his morning meal. He smiled as the familiar aroma of breakfast greeted his nose. His stomach rumbled at the scent of hot, flaky yet buttery biscuits fresh out of the oven. His mouth watered when he recognized the smoky hot smell of bacon frying on the stove. Lou had recently begun joking that since her husband had lost his sight during the war, he had developed Cody's ability to sniff out food.

With Rachel's help and guidance, Lou had turned into quite a cook. She took great pride in her newly learned skill to feed their young but quickly expanding family. Their eldest child, Noah, was six and he was already showing leadership skills like his father by helping look after his younger siblings. Their daughter Emmaline, five, took after her mother; already becoming quite the tomboy and proving she could do anything her older brother could. Rambunctious Jeremiah had just turned three and was as sharp as could be, much like his Uncle Jeremiah who had died of cholera years ago.

"Good morning," Kid said as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morning." Lou crossed from the stove to kiss her handsome husband, but on nearing him, recoiled. "Kid! You stink to high heaven, go get cleaned up at the pump before you sit down to table. I can't even smell the breakfast over you."

"This is what a real man smells like," he teased, following the sound of her voice and trying to catch and kiss her. "Come here, it isn't so bad once you're used to it."

She held him at arm's length with a towel, laughing, "A real man, huh? It's more like what a horse's backside smells like! Did you get down and roll in the straw before you mucked out the horses?"

"Okay, you win," he grinned, taking the towel and bar of soap she shoved into his hands. "Maybe I should put on some of those store-bought scents for you like Cody wears now that he's all rich and fancy."

"Just washin' up will do fine," she said, swatting him on the backside to move him toward the door. "And hurry, breakfast is nearly ready."

Kid went to the pump outside the porch and scrubbed his hands and arms with the strong-smelling soap, washing the smell of the horses from him. Funny, he thought, I'm so glad to be able to work around horses, I don't even mind the smell.

Returning freshly scrubbed from the pump, he stood drying his hands in the doorway to the kitchen. "Am I presentable now?"

She looked him over, and answered appreciatively, "Very."

"Breakfast smells great Lou." He wrapped his arms around his wife lovingly. He nibbled on her ear teasingly and added, "and so do you."

"Stop, that. Emma will be down with Jeremiah any minute."

"It was only a quick nibble," he protested in a husky voice.

"But you can never stop with just a quick nibble, can you?" Lou teased back. "And we've got three children and another on the way to prove it."

"I can't help that I'm madly in love with you."

"Well, the feeling's mutual." After quickly glancing at the stairwell checking for the little ones, Lou slid her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth passionately, leaving the breakfast sizzling on the stove unattended. Both lost themselves in their intimate moment which was quite rare these days with the intrusion of at least one of the children.

A charred tang crept through the kitchen and Kid broke the kiss. "Is something burning?" He asked, sniffing.

"The GRITS!" Lou cried as she yanked the pot of smoldering, seething corn meal off the stove.

"You made grits?" Kid asked.

"Well, scalded is more like it." Lou crossed the kitchen carrying the pot and set it out side on the back porch to cool without stinking up the whole house. "You kind of have to watch them carefully," she admitted. "They can stick and then scorch sudden-like if you don't keep stirring, Rachel always told me."

"I'm sorry," Kid said. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have distracted you."

"It was a nice distraction though," Lou said flirtatiously as she turned the bacon before it burned.

"What can I help you with?"

"I think I've got everything under control. The biscuits are on the table already. And the bacon will be ready in just a minute and then I'll put the eggs on."

"I hope you didn't go out and gather them in your condition, Lou; you know I can do it." Kid ran his hand over his wife's swollen belly, concerned about his very pregnant wife squatting down to retrieve the eggs while fighting off their feisty hens. She may not be able to get back up, he reflected. Big as she had been the last three times, this time she was beyond enormous, he worried guiltily.

"Nope, Noah did it for me."

"Well, I'd better get to milking Bessie so there's milk for the children."

"Noah's milking Bessie now." Lou smiled with pride.

"That's my boy." Kid grinned proudly at how eager his young son was to help with the family chores. "Before we know it he'll be helping break in the horses."

"Oh, no he won't!" Lou argued. "Not until he's at least twelve."

"Lou, I was helping break horses when I was younger than that."

"I know we both had to do a lot more growing up because of our families' situations. We are fortunate to be better off than that. I want our kids to be able to have a real childhood and not have to grow up as quick as we did."

"I know, and I want the same, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to discourage his interest in horses."

She chuckled, handing him a jar of blackberry preserves and the jelly dish from the pantry shelf. "I have a feeling it won't be possible to discourage him. He's our son, his love for horses is a given. I don't want him getting hurt or trampled by some wild horse."

After opening the jar of sweet, summer-smelling preserves, he scooped some into the bowl and placed it on the center of the table with the spoon. "Alright, no horse breaking, I promise." Kid raised his hand as if taking an oath. "Now what can I help you with?"

"You can take the coffee to the table," Lou said as she handed him the pot.

Kid nodded and did as his wife asked. He cautiously set the steaming hot pot on the table and poured himself a cup. Before taking a sip, he took a whiff of the comforting distinctive aroma, pleasantly strong and piquant, and yet comforting, like the woman who made it.

"Hey, Pa," Noah called from the doorway, where he was sloshing a bucket of milk. At the sound, Kid came over quickly and took the bucket from his son, patting him. From the lightness of the bucket, Kid knew his little son had either not milked Bessie completely, or he'd lost half the milk carrying it over, but he praised him lavishly nonetheless. Noah sat at the table while Kid carried the milk to the kitchen. As he poured the milk into a pitcher for Lou, they both chuckled at Noah, calling out, "Breakfast smells great, Ma. Worked up a good appetite this mornin'," he boasted.

"Yes, I bet you did, son," Kid told him, carrying the milk to the table. "You did a good morning's work."

Soon the familiar sound of little feet coming down the stairs met his ears. "Good morning munchkins."

"Daddy!" Jeremiah cried as he jumped into Kid's lap and hugged him adoringly.

"Morning pa." The girl kissed her father's cheek before sitting down.

"Emmaline?" Lou called from the kitchen. "Could you please come and get the eggs for me?"

"Yes Mama," the girl obediently answered and headed into the kitchen.

"And how's my little man this morning?" Kid asked.

"Great! Emma taught me a song. It's called the afabet," the boy said with pride.

"Alphabet?"

"Yes! A-B-C-D-E-F-G, H-I-J-K-L, O-P, Q-R-S, T-U-V, W X-Y and Z."

"That's great, but what about M and N?"

"Oh! M-N-O-P, Q-R-S, T-U-V, W-X-Y and Z!"

"Very good!" Kid hugged his son but winced as a reeking sour-like stench hit his nose. "Jeremiah, did you have an accident?"

"Yes Daddy," the frightened boy said meekly. "I'm sorry."

It's okay," Kid tried to reassure his son who was still sometimes having trouble making it to the outhouse in time. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Lou, I'm gonna change 'Miah. We'll be back in just a minute."

"Okay, breakfast will be on the table when you get back." Kid heard his wife answer from the kitchen as he picked up his youngest son and carried him upstairs to get him into a fresh change of clothes. Ten minutes later the two returned downstairs to join the rest of the McCloud family for a hearty breakfast. After they had finished, Louise and Emmaline cleared the table and then washed the dishes as Kid took his sons out to the barn to start on the morning chores.

Kid sighed as he breathed in the early spring air, warm and fragrant from the blooming plants and flowers from his wife's flower garden. It was days like today that he missed his sight the most. Spring had always been his favorite time of year; a time of rebirth for the plants and crops that lay dormant during the long winter months. He also missed seeing the reawakening of the animals that hibernated through the cold months and especially seeing their young offspring.

Holding Jeremiah's hand and with Noah leading the way, the trio neared the barn. Even if Kid hadn't had the exact length from the house to the barn memorized, he would still be able to tell they were close as the familiar smells of the barn, a mix of animals, feed, hay, and, of course, manure, all filled the air and intensified as they entered the building.

Jeremiah immediately picked up a pitchfork to finish mucking out the stalls, while little Jeremiah assisted their father with feeding the horses. The young boy giggled as Katy licked his face, but stopped when he saw a small, furry creature creeping into the barn. "Daddy!" The boy pulled on Kid's sleeve. "A kitty!"

"Really?" Kid said as his son led him by the hand over to the black and white creature. "Miss Twinkle must have had her kittens last night."

"No, this doesn't look like Miss Twinkle," the boy said. "She's orange, this one is black and white."

"Oh," Kid said before a horrible thought entered his head. "Wait Jeremiah, are you sure that's a cat?"

Ignoring his father's question, Jeremiah continued towards the animal. "Here kitty-kitty!"

Frightened at the little boy nearing him, the animal raised its tail defensively spraying its distinctively unpleasant odor.

"AHHH!" Kid cried as he grabbed his son and backed to the other side of the barn, but it was too late, both had been drenched by the skunk's horrible stench.

"Pa?" Noah asked as he peeked around the corner of a stall.

"Noah," Kid instructed his eldest son, "Stay back, there's a skunk in here!"

"Oh no."

"Yeah, he already got me and Jeremiah," he continued. "Go let Grandpa and Buck know about our little visitor and then tell your ma to set up a bath with tomatoes."

"Tomatoes?" The boy asked curiously.

"Grandpa Teaspoon says it the only thing that will get the smell off ya' once you've been sprayed. I know it sounds crazy, but it does work."

"I can't believe I have to use the last of my canned tomatoes to give you two a bath," Lou grumbled as she emptied the last of her homemade stewed tomatoes into the tub. "So much for chili tonight."

"Would you rather we keep this stench on us?" Kid asked as he got into the tub.

"Oh no," his wife answered while she picked up Jeremiah and put him in the bright red liquid. "I'm not having you two reek like that and stink up my house."

"Your house?"

"Our house," she sighed as she picked up a tomato and rubbed it on Kid's back.

"Our home, " Kid corrected.

"Daddy," Jeremiah looked up at Kid. "Is mama going to use us to make soup?"

Kid chuckled as Lou answered, "No sugar bear, the tomatoes just will help get that nasty smell of off you."

"Why did that kitty do that?"

"It wasn't a kitty, Jeremiah," Kid explained. "It was a skunk. They are called skunks because when they get scared they spray that odor to protect themselves."

"You mean I scared him?" The boy almost chocked on his words, "I didn't mean to, I just wanted to pet him."

"I know, but skunks are wild animals like foxes and raccoons. They don't like to be petted like kitties do."

"I'm sorry Daddy."

"It's okay, Jeremiah. It's not the first time your pa's been sprayed by a skunk…"

"But hopefully it will be the last," Lou plugged her nose with her fingers and made a face at her son causing him to laugh.

"Don't worry," Kid shook his head. "That's the last time I'm letting one of the children show me a kitty."

Lou chuckle as she continued to scrub the stench off her husband and child.

Kid walked into the kitchen after putting on a fresh change of clothes, the shirt had a slight lemony scent from the lemon juice Lou added to her laundry bucket. She swore it helped keep the clothes looking fresh and bright; all's Kid knew was it made him smell good and crave lemonade a lot.

"Lunch will be ready in about 45 minutes," Lou said. "Chicken sandwiches and potato salad. And cookies for dessert."

"No tomato soup?" Kid teased before kissing his wife.

"Oh you," Lou sighed.

"What can I help you with?"

"Did you put those reeking clothes in the tub?"

"Of course."

"Then just keep the children busy while I finish up."

"Sure Lou."

After rounding up his three children, Kid led them into Lou's flower garden.

"But Pa," Emmaline said. "Mama doesn't like us playing in the garden."

"We aren't going to play, Emmaline."

"We aren't?" Jeremiah asked.

"Nope, we are gonna do something special for your ma."

"Me and Emmaline weeded the garden yesterday Pa," Noah said.

"We aren't going to pull weeds, we're going to pick some flowers for her."

"Which ones should we pick, Pa?" Noah asked, hesitantly, slogging behind with a bucket of warm water for the flowers.

Kid stood in the garden, the spring breeze floating by perfumed with the spring flowers.

"Are there some bushes with light purple flowers on them?" Kid guessed.

The children looked at each other, amazed. "How'd you know, Daddy?" Emmaline asked, leading him to the lilac bushes. Kid bent a branch with a spray of lilac blossoms on it downward for her to smell. "So sweet," she sighed. "Well, I couldn't miss this beautiful smell," Kid remarked, taking a knife from a pocket and cutting an armful of the blossoms down one spray at a time, being careful to pick ones with some of the flower head still in bud stage, and leaving plenty on the shrubs. As he selected and cut them down, he handed them to the children to place the woody stems under water.

"They'll make the house smell beautiful," Emmaline said enthusiastically, her arms filled with fragrant blossoms.

"There are some big fluffy pink ones here, too, Pa," Noah reported, spotting some low-growing plants nearby. Noah yanked one up by the root and handed it to his father, who smelled it and recognized the mild perfume of a sweet-scented peony.

"I can't smell anything," Emma said, confused, when Kid held it to her nose. Kid smiled. "That's because the lilacs are so strong compared to these; they only have a light scent," he explained. "I can tell the difference, because I've learned to pay attention to things like that. Just keep smelling them and you will too," he advised.

"Ma will love these," Noah enthused, starting to grab another.

"Hold on, son," Kid said hastily. "It's okay to pick them, but we need to cut or break off the stems - don't pull them out of the ground," he explained, feeling the entire root system still attached to the end of the one he was holding. He carefully cut the stems off by the root clump and separated the clump, making sure to feel that each division had a couple of "eyes", and scraped a spot to replace them in the earth. "This way, next year, there will be two more plants," he explained. "But let's not dig up any more just now, without your ma to supervise."

"Okay, Pa," Noah agreed, and snapped a stem off where Kid indicated with his fingers. Emmaline followed suit and they gathered a big bunch of pink peonies among the purple lilacs in the bucket.

"We have a lot here, don't we?" Kid said, feeling the flowers in the bucket finally.

The children agreed.

"I know. Let's make a bouquet for each of you to give Mama," Kid suggested. "Then she can put one on the kitchen table, and one in the parlor, and maybe one on her dresser."

"Good idea, Pa," Emmaline enthused. Noah and Jeremiah were already picking out the flowers for their bouquets.

The four of them paraded back, and burst into the kitchen with outstretched hands, full of fragrant flowers.

Lou smiled and gathered all the flowers in one arm, then pulled all three children in for a big hug. "Thank all of you, they're beautiful," she said, burying her face in them for a long sniff. "I'll put them right in water. And you're just in time, lunch is almost ready, so you can all go get washed."

"Surprised?" Kid asked as he crossed to his wife after there three children raced out to the pump to clean up.

"What do you think?" She set the flowers down on the counter as her blind husband ran his hand across her smiling face. Her skin tingled as he gently traced the features of her face to 'see' her expression.

"You're beaming," he answered with a smile. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. After smelling a light but sweet scent on Lou, he added with a loving chuckle, "and you smell like sugar cookies."

That afternoon, Lou stood wearily at the stove, stirring a pot of bubbling stew. Kid stopped on his way through to the wood shop, and drew in the savory scent of beef stew.

"Smells great," he said appreciatively.

"Not to me," Lou said. He caught a whiff of lemon and knew she was holding a handkerchief with a few drops of lemon oil on it over her face, to try to drown out the cooking smells. Her morning sickness tended to come at erratic times, and Kid knew the smell of cooking meat especially bothered her when it did.

"Honey, why don't you go lie down a while?"

Relieved, she answered, "I think I will." She went to the cabinet rustling around for something as the tea kettle whistled, and soon Kid noted the soothing scent of peppermint tea, Lou's favorite morning sickness cure.

Lou handed him a cup and hugged him tiredly, taking the cup out into the parlor. Kid sat sipping the tea she'd made him, enjoying the smell, and keeping a 'nose' on the stew as he stirred it occasionally.

The day was filled with messes and cleaning up and working and laughter, and all the different fragrances and odors that fill a busy home and working farm; but finally it came to a close. At the end of the long day, Kid changed wearily into bedclothes and felt his way to the bed. An equally exhausted Lou climbed in next to him, fresh from a bath. He was glad to hear her rustling a newspaper and to smell the pleasant woody scent of fresh newsprint. "I'll read you the news if you like," she offered. "Got the Fairbury Gazette here. There's a big story about that awful fire in Chicago - - seems some lady's cow kicked over a lantern in her barn, and started it."

"Let's hear it," he said, holding out an arm. She settled into the crook of his arm and started reading the front page story aloud to him. He leaned in and sniffed at her hair, savoring the slightly floral, clean scent.

She snuggled against him contentedly, and kept reading aloud, as he leaned in again toward her, nuzzling her hair.

Rolling up the newspaper and cuffing him, she laughed, "Do you mind? What on earth are you doing?"

"Just smelling your hair."

"Smelling my hair."

"Yes. I love the way it smells."

She kissed his cheek and rested her head back down against his shoulder, as he buried his face back in her fragrant hair, breathing in deeply.

"It smells like lavender, is all. Same soap as I've used for years," she giggled, squirming ticklishly.

"No… to me it smells like… home."

On a bright Saturday morning near noon, Noah McCloud followed his father and "Grandpa" Teaspoon back home down the well-worn path that ran between fishing hole and the main part of the ranch. Grandpa's daughter Josephine loped alongside her pa, carrying a fishing pole and a string of fish. Tomboy Jo poked Noah playfully with the end of her fishing pole. "Why the long face?" She teased, flashing her bright smile.

"No reason," he muttered. Noah's eyes were fixed on Grandpa, who strode confidently, his old, but still sharp eyes taking in everything around him on their way. He named each of the different trees of the forest to the children as they passed them in turn. "There's a cottonwood," he'd point out to Jo; or a green ash or box elder. Grandpa pointed to different tracks as they went, telling his daughter how to tell the raccoon from the skunk, the coyote from the wolf, all at a mere glance.

Noah glanced over at his father, walking carefully beside him, his hand on Noah's shoulder for guidance. As always, Pa took in Teaspoon's descriptions avidly, but couldn't join in, of course. Pa had been blinded in the war, before Noah was even born. His father's eyes, exactly like his own in every other way, had always been blank and sightless, as far as Noah could remember.

Oh, in some ways it doesn't matter, Noah thought. We can go fishin', even ridin' as long as Uncle Buck or Grandpa Teaspoon or Ma comes along just in case. And Pa's just as strong and smart as any of the other fathers. But . . .

The eleven-year old was struggling to come to terms with exactly what was bothering him today, on such a beautiful day, spent outside having fun with three of his favorite people in the world. He looked down, sighing. Somehow, lately, it just seemed like he was noticing for the first time, how very unfair it all was, how much Pa missed out on. He wasn't sure exactly why he was thinking so much about it all of a sudden. But whatever the reason, in the last few weeks, he had started thinking about how hard it must be for his father, though he didn't remember Pa ever complaining about being blind. I just don't understand how God could let this happen to somebody like Pa, he thought, bewildered.

And lately, he'd been wishing things could be different. Not just for Pa's sake, he was honest enough to admit to himself, but for his own, too. Though Pa does the best he can, still there are things I'd like to do with him that we never can. Things that the other boys, like my buddy Jeff, do with their fathers and never think twice about, like hunting or target practice or even lassoing or playin' horseshoes. His father's blindness not only robbed Pa of his sight, but had robbed both of them of being able to do many father and son things without help from others. And I just can't see why God made up His mind it had to be that way.

The group reached the house and Ma came out on the porch with one-year old Anna in her arms, and Noah's three-year-old brother and sister clinging to her skirts. The twins squealed when they saw their adored oldest brother, as if they hadn't seen him three hours ago at breakfast. Despite his youthful struggle with the great mysteries of life, he couldn't help smiling as they ran toward him, faces and hands sticky.

Pa reached for Ma and gave her a kiss on the mouth, and mumbled something in her ear, low, making her face blush as red as an apple. Noah looked away, a little embarrassed at his parents' customary display of affection. You'd think at their age, they'd be able to keep their hands to themselves a little more, he thought. For pete's sake, they're both over thirty! He shuddered. Nobody wants to see that.

"Well, Lou, I hope you're in the mood for fish tonight," Pa said proudly, holding up his and Noah's string of fish.

Ma grimaced at the sight of the fish dangling from the string, their round eyes staring. "I hope you're cleaning them," she said dubiously. "You know I hate that, and my stomach's a little shaky today," she said, resting her hand on her slightly swollen belly.

"Oh, that old excuse," Pa laughed, swatting her on the backside. "Okay, okay, I'll take them now, hold some lunch for me?" Ma kissed him on the cheek in thanks, and turned to Noah.

"Noah, I know you must be starving, but could you take Theresa and Jedediah out to the pump and rinse them off a little before lunch?" his Ma asked, harried. "Lunch'll be waiting when you're all ready."

"I'll help," Jo offered, taking little Theresa by the hand as Noah took Jedediah. As the pair scrubbed the rambunctious twins under the hand pump, Noah spotted his other two sisters and brother jumping off Grandma Polly's wagon and running toward them.

Noah's ten year old sister Emmaline joined them with their brother Jeremiah. "Anything new in town?" Noah asked idly, drying off Theresa. They all had been gone a month visiting Ma and Pa's old friends and seeing Uncle Cody's Wild West Show, but he didn't expect much had happened with school out.

"Bad news," eight year old Jeremiah said, his chin stuck out a little importantly. "Jeff Clark's father died at the Little Big Horn."

Noah stared at his brother and sisters, thunderstruck. "How's Jeff?" Noah said softly.

"Haven't seen him yet," Emmaline sighed. "You get under here, too, Mary Louise," she directed their mud-covered five year old sister.

Noah dropped his towel on the ground, and backed away from the noisy, splashing group. "Where are you going?" Emmaline demanded, but Noah quickly turned and ran off toward the barn, too much in shock from the news to watch his younger siblings playfully wash up for lunch.

A few minutes later, Noah's other best friend, Buck's daughter Tsomah Cross, stuck her head in the barn door and looked around. "Noah? When'd you get back, yesterday? I've been looking for you."

Noah kept on brushing his new painted horse, the offspring and the spitting image of his father's beloved mare, Katy. The look in Tsomah's pretty, dark eyes told him she was upset about something, probably Jeff's pa, he figured; but he was wrapped up in his own thoughts and worries at the moment. "I don't want to talk right now," he mumbled.

"Noah," she started.

"I said I don't feel like talking right now. Can a person be alone for five minutes on this ranch?" he snapped, trying to keep his voice steady and turning his back to avoid her piercing gaze.

"Fine," she said evenly, slamming the barn door behind her on her way out.

Noah thought about going after her to apologize, fumbling with the brush he held in his hands. He turned and went out the door, watching Tsomah walk off stiffly toward her own house on their ranch, her back even straighter than usual, her golden hair streaming out behind her in the breeze. He sighed, realizing he would have to wait for her to cool down before he apologized. Kicking the dirt in front of him in clouds, he wandered around to the pump where he was caught up short at the sight of his father squatting by a large tub, cleaning and scaling the mess of fish they had just caught.

Noah stood watching as his father's sure hands confidently gutted and cleaned fish after fish, scraping off the glittering scales, and pulling out the white bones, and dropping the cleaned pieces into a bucket beside him. "You going to stand there all day or help me with these fish, son?" Pa asked, smiling.

How does he always know? Noah thought a little irritably. For someone who can't see, he never misses what everybody's doin'. The boy approached and took a fish off the string, squatting down opposite his father, who handed him another knife. They silently cleaned fish together for a moment.

"You seem a little quiet today, Noah. Anything on your mind?"

Noah looked overhead as the shadow of a hawk glided over them, following it into the distance, and then looked back down at his work. "Yeah. Jeff Clark's dad got killed at Big Horn."

Pa's hands kept working, but his face turned up a little. He shook his head, ruefully. "That's a shame," he sighed. "Jeff's going to need a good friend about now. He's lucky he has you to lean on at least."

"Yeah, real lucky." Noah had finally cleaned one fish in the time it took his sightless father to clean three, and he flung the filets into the bucket.

"Noah," Pa began.

"It's . . . it's just not fair," Noah choked, getting up and walking away.

Pa laid down the knife and wiped his hands on a cloth before following him. "I know, Noah," he said, putting an arm around his son's shoulders.

"Why did it have to happen?" Noah pleaded.

"What do you mean, son?"

Noah dashed tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Why do bad things happen to people for no reason? Why is life so unfair, so hard, if God is good?"

Pa interrupted, "Now, Noah. Jeff's pa died in a war. Wars are caused by people, not by God."

"Yeah, well, God may not start wars, but He doesn't do anything to stop them. And He lets people get killed and . . . and hurt in them," Noah protested, looking at his father's empty eyes staring through him. He stood and leaned against a post, shutting his eyes tight to force back the tears, stricken with guilt. Here I was feelin' sorry for myself because I got a blind pa. Jeff won't even have any pa now.

His Pa turned him and hugged him against his chest. "I know it's hard to see why bad things happen to good people, and not blame God a little for it," Pa said gently. "It's hard to understand what God's plan is, sometimes." Noah looked up at his father's face, searching there for answers.

Pa continued, his voice quiet and halting. "But that doesn't mean there isn't a plan, or a reason. Just that we can't see it yet."

"I sure can't see why Jeff's pa had to die, and I can't see why you had to go blind either," Noah said rebelliously. "That doesn't make sense."

Pa sighed patiently. "I know it doesn't seem like it now. But it's like when the twins want something, and your Ma and I have to say no. They can't understand it, because they're only little compared to us. When they're older, wiser, they'll see better. God's like that - He's like a Father to us, too. Someday, when we're with God, He'll reveal the reasons for everything He's doing. We'll see all this through the Father's eyes. But we can't expect to understand just yet. Just learn what we can from the bad times, you know?"

Noah nodded, and looked up at his father again. He thought about how, with his father blind, he'd learned to really see the world around him. In part to 'see' things for his father in words, but also in part because his father's blindness had made his own sight seem all the more precious a gift. Looking up at his father with his quiet kind of courage, he was overwhelmed with gratitude and admiration.

"Pa?"

Kid ruffled his son's hair affectionately. "Yes, son?"

Noah blushed furiously, but kept talking. It's important I tell him, important I never take him for granted again. "I . . . I'm glad you're my pa," he said haltingly, searching for the right words.

Kid's face flushed slightly with pride, and he nodded. "Me too, son."

Sitting in her family's kitchen stirring in a large bowl with a wooden spoon, five year old Mary Louise McCloud was looking as morose as her enormous brown eyes and mop of curly blonde hair would permit. Her Pa came into the kitchen, tracing along the wall with his hand to find his way.

"Hey, Pa," Mary Louise mumbled sourly, cracking another egg into the bowl.

"Hey, Sweet Pea," he answered. He came around the table and planted a kiss on her cheek, drawing back in surprise from the sweet substance covering his daughter's face. "You're all sticky," Pa noted. "What's this, molasses?"

Mary Louise sighed bitterly. "Yes. I'm making gingerbread people."

"Does your Ma know about this?" Pa asked.

He was met with silence.

"Mary Louise?"

Kid heard the spoon slammed into the bowl and the chair tipped over as its occupant stomped out of the kitchen in high outrage. He shook his head. Most of the children had inherited some degree of temper, he reflected. Between both my temper and Lou's, that was no surprise. Mary Louise often seemed to have gotten a double dose of it, from me and her mother - fortunately, along with her mother's sweet side, she got her good heart and generous spirit. But like her Ma and Pa both, when she was riled . . .

Sighing, he followed behind his little girl, calling out after her. From the end of the porch, he heard her sniffling, and approached, sitting beside her.

"What's all this about?" He asked kindly, producing a piece of peppermint candy from a pocket, breaking it in half, and offering it to her. He felt her slip it from his fingers, and placed the other piece in his own mouth. They sat side by side savoring the comforting, cool sweetness.

After a few moments, she seemed calmer, soothed by the small treat. "It's nothing. Just -" She broke off, awkwardly.

"Just what?"

Her voice sounded shaky and embarrassed. "Nobody thinks I can do anything. I wanted to make you and Ma a surprise, and it's coming out all messed up. I thought if I could do something special for you, you'd be proud of me."

"I am proud of you," Kid protested.

"No you're not!" his peppery-tempered daughter shrieked suddenly. "You're proud of Noah, and Emmaline, and Jeremiah, because they're big and smart and can do everything. You're proud of the twins and Anna because they're little and funny and cute. I'm just in the middle," she wailed. "I'm not good for anything," she finished with a sob, choking on her own salty tears.

"Honey," Kid started. "I'm sorry if you've been feeling left out." He realized now how maybe his middle child was getting lost in the shuffle, though he and Lou tried as best they could to give special attention to each of their seven children. Lord knows, with so much to do running the ranch and raising all these children, it wasn't always easy to do.

At that moment, Buck and Teaspoon approached and called out to Kid.

"Come on, Kid. Let's get a move on, the debate's starting in an hour. We want good seats, we're gonna have to get there pretty soon," Teaspoon said tartly. "Go on and drop the young'un over with Rachel for the afternoon, she's waitin' on ya."

Kid stroked his daughter's mop of unruly hair and hugged her thin shoulders.

"You know, I think I'd rather spend the day here, fellas. You go on ahead and go without me. Let me know how it went when y'all get back," he said.

"But you've been looking forward to this debate for weeks," Buck said. "What's goin' on around here that can't wait?"

Kid smiled. "Mary Louise and I are going to make gingerbread men, and surprise her Ma," he said. "Can you let Rachel know, Teaspoon?"

His daughter's arms tightened around his arm, and he had his sweet reward for giving up one of the few entertainments he could still have with his sight gone. There'll be other debates, he thought, as Mary Louise led him back into the kitchen. This is much more important.

Kid found an apron in the kitchen and tied it around himself, and helped Mary Louise tie another around herself.

"Well, let's get organized," he suggested. "Do you have a recipe?"

"No," Mary Louise admitted.

"Well, I think I remember my mother making gingerbread men," Kid said.

"Gingerbread people," Mary Louise corrected gently.

"Yes. I think we need a bunch of molasses and a couple of eggs?"

Mary Louise ran and placed the can and two eggs in front of her father, who cracked the eggs and poured molasses over them. He directed her to find the brown sugar and added some into the bowl for her to stir.

"What now, Daddy?" Mary Louise asked, stirring vigorously. "What did your ma do after this?"

Kid smiled a little, thinking back to being five himself, and watching Ma rolling out the dough. She'd always let him have the bowl and spoon after baking, and he remembered how good everything they made together seemed to taste.

"There were a lot of spices in it, I think," he mused. "Coriander and caraway seeds, I think, and cloves and nutmeg … and ginger," he remembered.

"Of course, that's why they're gingerbread people," Mary Louise reasoned. "Here are some brown spices, I can't read the cans, though," she worried, bringing over the spices and placing them in front of him. She sprinkled a little from each can in turn onto each of their fingers, and they tasted them one by one, trying to name them, and laughing together. First was a warm, spicy powder which both realized was cinnamon. Then Mary Louise found what she thought was cloves, but after a small but very pungent taste, Kid quickly spit it out realizing it was actually peppercorns.

"Sorry Daddy," she said softly worrying that her father was angry.

"It's okay, Sweet Pea. Anyone could make the same mistake," he reassured her as he poured a glass of milk to cool his burning tongue. He took a sip and sighed as the refreshing creamy liquid coated his scorching taste buds. "Let's try another one."

"This might be the cloves," Mary Louise said shyly. "They are lighter in color and they smell good, too."

Kid carefully sniffed the spice his daughter handed him and agreed that it had a very nice aroma. Still a little wary, he cautiously bit into the tiny pebble sized spice. He smiled at the spicy, yet tasty flavor. "Cloves."

He placed a several cloves into Lou's spice grinder and carefully turned the crank while Mary Louise watched and told him when the spice reached a powered consistency.

"Now, we need some allspice I think."

"All the spices, Daddy?" The girl looked at her father in confusion.

"No sweetheart, allspice. It's brown and smells a lot like the cloves. It tastes like a little like a cross between cinnamon and nutmeg."

The girl carefully peered into the jars and smiled. "I think this is it!"

Kid smelled the familiar aroma and carefully tasted it. "Yes, that's allspice."

Following the same procedures they picked out the rest of the necessary ingredients for their improvised treat and finally added them, with melted butter and some flour, to the bowl.

Once the dough was made, Kid tasted it and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet and spicy taste. After turning it out onto the rolling board, Mary Louise began to try to roll the dough out while her father fumbled in the drawer for cookie cutters. "Here's a gingerbread man, and," he smiled handing them to her, "gingerbread lady. You cut them out and we'll put them on the tins."

The front door jingled as someone pushed their way in.

Lou came to the doorway of the kitchen, and poked her head in. She stifled a horrified gasp at the state of the kitchen and its two occupants.

"What . . . what are you two doing in here?" she managed, taking off her best hat and hanging it on a peg by the door. She looked around wildly, at the array of opened spices, the dirty pots and pans and bowls, the spilled sugar and flour, the sticky hands and faces.

"Makin' gingerbread people," Mary Louise informed her proudly. "Just me and Daddy," she added ominously to the twins, who had entered the kitchen behind their mother.

Lou took the hint. "Come on, sugarbears. Time for your nap. These cookies'll likely be ready by the time you wake up, and you can try some then, if that's okay with Mary Louise."

"It is," Mary Louise said airily. "But after you and Daddy have the first two."

Looking again at the disastrous-looking paste that her daughter was trying to roll into a sheet, Lou gulped, but nodded brightly. "Let me just take off my best dress," she said, "and get these three down for their naps." She carried baby Anna upstairs, and laid her carefully in her crib, then pulled the curtains for the twins, who laid down willingly after their long day in town. She headed down the hallway and slipped out of her Sunday-best dress, and into a work calico, pulling an apron from the door.

Returning to the kitchen, she found Kid placing a sheet of cutout men and women into the oven. She checked the oven's temperature surreptitiously, and then kissed her husband. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nope," Kid said firmly. "Go take a seat in the parlor and rest a little," he suggested, guiding her toward the door. "I'll get this mess cleaned up, with Mary Louise's help, right, Peanut?"

"Yes, Daddy. Ma, you go put your feet up in the parlor and take it easy," the little sprite ordered, in imitation of her Pa.

"Well, if you insist," Lou said, and went to find a book and have a few welcome minutes alone. As she sat in the parlor reading, she tried not to cringe too much at the clanging and crashing her blind husband and five year old daughter made trying to clean the kitchen. Dropping her head on her hand, she shook her head ruefully. I'll be in there until next Tuesday cleaning up the mess from the sound of that, she thought. But they seem to be having a good time together.

Glancing at the parlor clock, she called, "I'd take out those cookies if I were you two."

A couple of moments later, the pair came in the parlor, with a plate of cookies and a pitcher of milk with three glasses. Lou gaped at their clothes, covered with spices and sugar.

"Well, let me pour out those glasses of milk," she said, as Kid and Mary Louise planted themselves on two chairs in her fine parlor. "And let's try your cookies."

Mary Louise and Kid waited anxiously as Lou bit into a gingerbread lady. I don't believe it, she thought incredulously as she savored the delectable treats. "These are delicious," she laughed. "Honestly, the best cookies I've ever tasted."

Mary Louise's face flushed with pride and Kid hugged her. They sat together in the parlor, just the three of us, Mary Louise thought contentedly, eating cookies and drinking milk together in the few precious minutes before the others came home from school, or down from their naps. Looking at Mary Louise's beaming dark eyes, Lou forced the thought of the undone chores from her mind and savored the moment as well, pressing her husband's hand happily.

Special thanks to Jen for her betaing and coding tips!