Chapter 14

Pa’s voice came out of the dark. Cecil hadn’t heard him use that tone in a long time. Since Grandmother died. Flames licked upward from the log someone had tossed on the fire.

Cecil had been guarding the oxen but now jogged toward camp, almost tripping in the tall, tangled grass in his haste.

Louise hurried in the same direction.

He got there first. “Pa, what’s wrong?”

“Marnie.” Pa stood with his shirttails out, his hair tossed up. He rubbed at his head. “She’s been up half a dozen times already tonight.” At Cecil’s puzzlement, Pa added, “Sick.”

Louise was at his side. “Sick how?”

“The runs.” Pa gulped the word.

A groan came from the nearest wagon, and Irene emerged and raced toward the closest bushes. She hadn’t returned when Angela followed. Hearing Irene’s warning, she veered to the side.

“What have you eaten?” Louise’s voice was soft and calm, but Cecil caught the undertone of worry.

What was she thinking? That they’d eaten something unsafe?

Joe appeared on silent feet. “What’s the problem?”

Pa explained.

“Maybe bad food. Maybe bad water. Maybe bad air.”

Before the night was out, the only woman not to be rushing to the bushes was Hazel. And Louise, who fussed over those who were sick.

Pa groaned with stomach pain but didn’t appear to have the same urgency.

As dawn broke, Joe spoke to Louise. “White man’s sickness needs white man’s cure. What needs to be done?”

Hands on her hips, Louise surveyed the area as if taking stock of the situation, though Cecil had watched her through the night hours and knew she had been doing so from the first sign of this.

“Hazel hasn’t shown any signs. Nor have Cecil and I. I’m going to assume that whatever it is, it hasn’t come to us. Can we isolate Hazel and the baby? And, Cecil, you stay away. No need for you to get sick.” She got a black satchel from the back of the wagon.

“Wait,” Cecil called. “Don’t you need to stay with Hazel?” If her theory was correct, she could perhaps avoid getting sick.

“I’m a nurse. I’ll nurse them.” Her look allowed no room for argument.

Joe nodded. “Wise to keep Mrs. Meyers and Little Warrior safe. I’ll bring oxen and move their wagon.”

“We’ll make three camps.” Louise gave instructions to Walt. “One for those who are already showing signs of illness. A third for you who have been with them but aren’t sick. If we are careful…” She shook her head. “And I need holes dug for those who are sick to use.”

Bertie hovered under the other Woods wagon, clinging to his pets. Aware that something was wrong and not understanding.

“Mama sick?”

“Yes, Bertie. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay away.”

“No. I go with Mama.”

Cecil barred his way. “You can see her from here.”

Bertie clung so tightly to his cats that one meowed a protest. “Mama die?”

If Marnie heard, she was too weak to answer, but Irene called out.

“You be good and let her rest. She’ll soon be right as can be.” Clutching her middle, she staggered to the bushes where, out of sight, Walt had dug a trench for a toilet.

“I be good.” Bertie sat as close as Louise would allow, all four pets surrounding him. They soon had three camps set up.

“I’ll tend the sick. You others keep your distance.” Louise indicated where the boundaries were.

“My wife,” Walt protested.

“The best thing you can do is stay well. And keep us supplied with water. The drinking water needs to be boiled.” She turned her attention back to those who were ill. With a glance over her shoulder, seeing they didn’t move, she said, “Water. Lots of it. And get some boiled for them to drink.”

Walt jabbed Cecil and nodded toward the buckets and large containers.

“Water, she said.”

The buckets clanged like bells when he gathered them and trotted to the river. He and Walt filled every container. The heat stung Cecil’s face as he set several containers over the fire.

When Hazel emerged from the wagon with a sleepy Petey and started toward the others, Louise called out. “Hazel, I want you to cook separately. Use the things we had across the river.”

“I’ll start a fire for you.” Joe took two steps in Hazel’s direction when Louise stopped him.

“Let Cecil do it. I want her and Petey isolated as much as possible. Cecil has been with us. Hopefully, we haven’t been exposed to whatever this is. He should look after her.” Her gaze drilled into him as if she was trying to tell him more than those words conveyed.

He shrugged. He wasn’t good at reading minds.

Much like a scolded dog, he slunk over to build a fire for Hazel. He got water for her, not caring that it sloshed over his still-damp boots.

Hazel cooked breakfast for the three of them.

He nursed a cup of bitter coffee as he watched the other campfires.

Joe and Walt prepared food. As Bertie ate, he questioned them over and over about his ma.

“I not want her die. Like Papa die.” His voice broke into a sob, and he bent his face to the furry back of the gray cat he called Smoky.

Cecil pulled his lips in. Marnie didn’t offer her son any reassurances, proving just how weak she was. Those who were sick could have anything from dysentery to cholera. And Louise was over there, breathing the same air they did. Touching them. She was a nurse. He’d never be able to persuade her to leave them.

He took a swig of his coffee. But it stuck halfway down, and he coughed.

Walt reached for Bertie’s hand. “Hey, big guy, why don’t we pray for everyone to get well?” He bowed his head and prayed aloud. “Father in heaven, the God who does wonderful things for us every day, we humbly plead with You to heal our camp of this illness?—”

“Amen,” Bertie yelled.

Irene’s chuckle was weak.

For the third time in a few minutes, Louise assisted Marnie to the bushes. She almost carried the woman back. Pa hadn’t moved in an hour but roused enough to put his arm around Marnie as she lay beside him.

The hours passed painfully slow. Louise spooned the cooled water into Marnie’s mouth. And held cups to the others’ lips. She’d taken something from her bag and managed to get them all to take a spoonful.

Her nursing skills were revealed when she used different dishes and spoons for each.

Hazel sat beside Cecil at the edge of the invisible circle Louse had drawn and watched. Petey played at her knees. “Not Ma. Please not Ma.” She gripped Cecil’s hand. “I don’t know what I’d do if?—”

“Louise is doing all she can.”

Her gaze found him across the space, dipped to his hand clasping Hazel’s, and then jerked away.

“Lou—never mind.” What could he say or do in the present circumstances? Except tend the livestock. He pushed to his feet and strode to where they grazed.

He met Joe coming toward him, leading his horse.

“There’s a remedy the Natives use. Perhaps it will work for white man. I’ll be back when I find what I need. You’re on watch.” He swung into the saddle, gave a quick salute, and rode away at a mile-eating lope.

Cecil’s damp boots squeaked as he walked to where the animals grazed. They were content to be idle. And the rest was good for them. Yeah, like they hadn’t had plenty of rest over the past five days.

The hours passed quietly, apart from the song of the birds, the gurgle of the river, and the chewing of the oxen.

Walt came out to take his place as dusk fell. “I’ve eaten. Bertie’s eaten. Hazel has food for you.”

Cecil took two steps toward camp and stopped. He was anxious to see how things were, but what if they weren’t good? He came round to face Walt. The tautness of the flesh across his brother’s cheekbones made Cecil’s insides tighten.

“How is everyone?” he asked.

Not looking at Cecil, Walt shook his head. “They’re not good. Marnie—” His voice broke. “And Irene.”

Cecil had never heard that tone in Walt’s voice.

“Joe’s gone for something his people use.” Cecil meant it as encouragement.

“I know. I hope he’s back in time.”

Cecil wanted to offer words of comfort. But he had none. “We must trust God.”

Walt maybe meant to smile, but it fell short. “Yeah. What is it Marnie says? We do our best and trust God with the rest.”

With a half-hearted nod, Cecil made his way back to camp, his heart feeling as cold and heavy as his feet.

Louise stumbledas she fetched more boiled water. Three days and nights she’d tended the sick. She was weary clear to the marrow of her bones. Sleep was impossible. Gabe hadn’t gotten any worse, but Irene, Angela, and Ruby had. The medication Louise gave provided only a little relief.

Her concern was Marnie. The diarrhea continued. She swallowed only a spoonful or two of water before she curled up clutching her stomach. She was now so weak that Louise half carried her to the bushes.

“Louise, you need to rest. Let me help.” Cecil’s soft words made her straighten. He’d offered, even threatened, several times.

“No. There are enough sick already.” Her insides spasmed to think that Cecil might get whatever this was. He had to live in order to take care of Hazel. Thank God above that neither Hazel nor the baby had shown any symptoms.

But Marnie.

“Lord God, give me strength. Give me wisdom.” She murmured prayer after prayer as she worked.

The sky turned gray and then grew translucent. Pink tinted the horizon. Louise turned toward the sunrise. Day four—though she couldn’t remember what day of the week it was. Everything had blurred.

She blinked. There had been a Sunday in there that she’d completely overlooked. Had the others remembered, or were they as consumed with the sick ones as she?

Hazel barely left her post near their campfirewhere she watched Louise. But mostly her ma. Thank goodness Cecil could be with her. Louise saw them holding hands several times.

Every time, Louise nodded. It was good that Hazel had him with her to offer comfort.

The pain that gripped her limbs, leaving her weak, was due to fatigue. Nothing else.

She handed each of the ill people a cup of water and sat cross-legged beside Marnie to get her to drink. She kept her back to Gabe. She couldn’t meet his eyes that demanded she make Marnie well. How could she explain that she was doing all she knew to do and yet Marnie was getting weaker?

“A little water.” She held the spoon to Marnie’s mouth, urging her to swallow mouthful after mouthful. Even that left Marnie exhausted.

Louise sat back on her heels, praying silently. She didn’t want Gabe or Marnie to hear her plead with God to spare the woman’s life.

The sun’s rays slanted across the land and touched Marnie’s face. Louise choked back a sob at how sunken her cheeks had grown.

The aroma of frying meat drifted from Walt’s camp. Louise’s stomach growled. When had she last eaten? Both Walt and Cecil left food for her, but she didn’t always have time to eat it. Her stomach growled even louder when Cecil set a plate on the rock they used every day.

But Irene moaned and rushed for the woods.

Marnie struggled, trying to sit. “I need?—”

Louise half carried her to the bushes. The woman weighed almost nothing. She soiled herself before they reached the trench. Louise spent the next hours cleaning Marnie and tending the other patients.

“Louise!” Cecil’s voice was strong.

She jerked around. “Is someone else sick?” She studied each of the others. None clutched at their stomach or raced for the bushes.

Arms crossed over his chest, he stood at the rock where her plate of food remained. “You’ll be next if you don’t take care of yourself.” He tossed the food to the dog and cats. “I’ll make you something else, but I’m warning you—if you don’t eat, I’m going to pick you up and carry you away.” The thud of his footsteps echoed in her head as he went to the camp he shared with Hazel, who nodded at him.

“It’s about time.” Although she spoke softly, Louise heard every word.

Hazel had something ready in the pot over the fire.

Cecil put a generous amount on a plate and carried it back to the rock. “Eat! Or else.”

Louise met his gaze. Swallowed hard at his intensity. Knowing he cared did more to revive her than any amount of food would. She let the feeling flood her insides. Later, she’d remind herself that she…that he…

But not now.

“You’re very bossy,” she murmured as she took the plate of savory stew and devoured it with an urgency she didn’t recognize. The plate empty, she returned it to the rock. “Thanks. That was good.”

“You’re welcome.” His voice was gruff, and then he hurried back to the fire with her plate.

Her strength restored, Louise returned to those who were sick. She’d done all she knew to do. The rest was up to God.

Her body was weary, calling out for sleep, but her spirit was even more weary.

She looked toward where Cecil stood, watching her. Their gazes caught and held. Not a word was spoken. Not a hand gesture was given, and yet she drew strength from his steady look.

Giving a quick nod, she turned back to her patients, determined not to let discouragement draw her down a dark path.

She’d continue to do the best she could.

Apart from God, her only other hope was Joe. But he’d been gone a long time. Had he not been able to find the medicinal he’d hoped to find?

Or had the sickness hit him while on the trail?