Outlaws - An American Youth - [Charles Smith x OC]

Chapter 59 - A new chance

As soon as he heard the news of my pregnancy, Charles was incredibly thoughtful to me. No matter how much I told him that nothing could stop a second miscarriage from happening, he watched my every move, rushing in whenever I did something he deemed bad for me and the baby. I had the misfortune of leaving a medical book on maternity lying around. He had read all the advice and now made a point of making me apply them.

I was then thrilled to have my office. There, I could escape his remarks for a few hours. More than once I left the house, slamming the door, shouting, "the book also says don't piss off pregnant women!". I would then climb on my cart to reach the city. Later, I would come home to find a sheepish Charles, who had cooked dinner for me or made a cozy corner by the fire. I would suppress a smile of satisfaction before kissing him softly. I knew he had the best of intentions, and deep down I was grateful to have such a caring husband.

Months passed and my stomach rounded off, much to my lover's delight. It was becoming evident that I would soon be unable to complete my patient rounds. Fortunately, for the past few months I had a very useful assistant. Benjamin was the son of Nelly, who had him at a young age with her late husband. He was only 17, but had always been interested in the medical subject, without his mother being able to send him to college. However, she had done everything to encourage his passion, buying him books on the subject as soon as she could afford them. I then decided to train him, the profession being much less supervised than it is today.

The young man was a fast learner and was a great help throughout my pregnancy. When traveling to my patients became too exhausting, he was the one who got there. He then came to give me reports, before leaving to apply my instructions. His days were exhausting but he had the enthusiasm and energy of the youth.

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Winter and its freezing cold soon returned. I braved snowstorms less often to go to my office, the sheriff knowing full well where to pick me up if needed. Stuck at home all day, time passed slowly. In fine weather, we often kept busy outside, bustling about on the ranch or in the vegetable garden. Sometimes itinerant people stopped in town, offering us a show or a movie for a few coins. But by November, our region would become more isolated. To keep us busy, we often played music, me on the piano, Charles on the harmonica. We read a lot too, exchanging our books with other townspeople.

But one of my favorite things to do was writing letters. I was writing to my dear Alice. It might have been safer not to give our address to anyone, but we were in Canada now, and we still didn't have a phone. I couldn't imagine not having her in my life. We wrote to each other about twice a month. I told her everything and she gave me her wise advice. She had been a great comfort after losing the baby.

At the start of our correspondence, she worried that I was in such a remote part of Canada, especially since I often complained about the loneliness I felt there. I who had known the frenzy of Chicago, how could I endure this isolated life? But once married, I quickly got used to my new surroundings. I didn't need the atmosphere of the metropolis, unlike her who had become a true New Yorker.

She often deplored that we could not come to visit her, she would have loved to meet Charles. But she understood the reasons. She had received the wedding photo I sent her. If she accepted Charles's difference, she wasn't sure how her neighbors, and even her husband, would react to it. Either way, it was too dangerous for us to return to the United States.

I would also write to Abigail and John from time to time. It was the latter who answered us, Abigail having made little progress in writing. But he never failed to faithfully transcribe what his wife dictated to him. They too received our wedding photo and congratulated us. They were now anxiously awaiting the letter announcing the birth of our child.