the other? And even if we made it to town, to the doctor’s house, would he be home? I knew he continued to care for those ill with influenza. Maybe he wouldn’t have time to deal with this.
Tears streamed down my face now. I wanted to yell at Aunt Adabelle for dying, at Mama for being sick, at Arthur for being quarantined. Most of all, I wanted to yell at Frank—Dan’s father—for being out of reach, across the ocean.
I put my head in my hands. Even God had abandoned us, I was sure. But the thought of lowering that feisty little boy into a muddy, gaping hole in the ground spurred me forward as surely as a cowboy kicking his horse into a gallop.
“I’m going to get help. Keep towels on Dan’s head. Give Janie some warm milk and have James lie down with her so she’ll nap. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I flung open the door and burst through the downpour before any of them could protest. One step beyond the gate, my boot sank deep in the black mud. I wrenched it free and took the next step. And the next. Brother Latham’s offer of help came to mind, but I felt sure Dan needed a doctor. So I trudged on toward town.
By the time I reached Doc Risinger’s house and pounded on his door, my whole body shook like a high branch in a spring storm. But along the way I’d come to a decision: someone else could take care of these children. Once Dan had the care he needed, I would pack my bags and head to Dallas, to Arthur. I could use the money I’d found in the handbag. Arthur could pay back Frank Gresham later. I’d hire a room, wait for Arthur to be free of the quarantine, and beg him to marry me. Now. My mind was made up, my heart relieved.
Until Doc Risinger opened the door.
“Go away, child,” the doctor rasped, purple-shadowed eyes sunk into his thin face. “I can’t do ye any good now.”
I stuck my foot between the door and the doorframe. “What do you mean?” I could only see a sliver of his tortured face.
“Just what I said, child. The fever’s got hold of me. Go on. Do the best ye can.”
“But I haven’t come about the flu. Dan’s fallen down the stairs and cut his head. It’s bleeding.”
His head moved back and forth, but barely. “Wash it good. Sew it up if ye need to.” A heavy sigh. “Wait here and I’ll give ye some iodine to smear on it, too.”
He pushed the door until it inched my foot back and clicked shut. I paced the small porch. I had to get back to Dan. I’d already been gone too long. The sky still cried its steady tears, but at least I could see beyond the curtain of rain now.
The door cracked open. Unsteady fingers thrust a small bottle into my hands. The door shut before I could voice any apprehension or appreciation.
I plunged back into the muddy track that ran out of town. Slipping, sliding, sinking. Covered in mud, I reached the yard, then the kitchen door, calling for a blanket and a change of clothes. The blanket came first.
“The bleeding stopped just after you left,” Ollie told me. “And I put the towels in there to soak.” She pointed to a bucket on the porch.
“You did good, honey. Now watch over the boys while I get changed.” I moved around to the side porch.
Only the downstairs bedroom window had a view of me here. The empty room with the door that remained shut. Huddling near the house, I peeled my dress and underclothes from my body and wrapped the clean blanket under my arms. In spite of the chill, it felt good to be dry.
I leaned over a bit, gathered my hair in my hands, and squeezed. Water splattered against the boards of the porch.
“Beautiful day, ain’t it?” Mr. Culpepper’s rumbly laugh followed.
I pressed myself flat against the side of the house, heaving for breath as I cinched the blanket more tightly across my chest. One bare foot tried to cover the other. My naked arms had nowhere to hide. How long had he been there? What had he seen? I groaned, refusing to even glance toward the road.
The mailman’s good-natured
Tears streamed down my face now. I wanted to yell at Aunt Adabelle for dying, at Mama for being sick, at Arthur for being quarantined. Most of all, I wanted to yell at Frank—Dan’s father—for being out of reach, across the ocean.
I put my head in my hands. Even God had abandoned us, I was sure. But the thought of lowering that feisty little boy into a muddy, gaping hole in the ground spurred me forward as surely as a cowboy kicking his horse into a gallop.
“I’m going to get help. Keep towels on Dan’s head. Give Janie some warm milk and have James lie down with her so she’ll nap. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I flung open the door and burst through the downpour before any of them could protest. One step beyond the gate, my boot sank deep in the black mud. I wrenched it free and took the next step. And the next. Brother Latham’s offer of help came to mind, but I felt sure Dan needed a doctor. So I trudged on toward town.
By the time I reached Doc Risinger’s house and pounded on his door, my whole body shook like a high branch in a spring storm. But along the way I’d come to a decision: someone else could take care of these children. Once Dan had the care he needed, I would pack my bags and head to Dallas, to Arthur. I could use the money I’d found in the handbag. Arthur could pay back Frank Gresham later. I’d hire a room, wait for Arthur to be free of the quarantine, and beg him to marry me. Now. My mind was made up, my heart relieved.
Until Doc Risinger opened the door.
“Go away, child,” the doctor rasped, purple-shadowed eyes sunk into his thin face. “I can’t do ye any good now.”
I stuck my foot between the door and the doorframe. “What do you mean?” I could only see a sliver of his tortured face.
“Just what I said, child. The fever’s got hold of me. Go on. Do the best ye can.”
“But I haven’t come about the flu. Dan’s fallen down the stairs and cut his head. It’s bleeding.”
His head moved back and forth, but barely. “Wash it good. Sew it up if ye need to.” A heavy sigh. “Wait here and I’ll give ye some iodine to smear on it, too.”
He pushed the door until it inched my foot back and clicked shut. I paced the small porch. I had to get back to Dan. I’d already been gone too long. The sky still cried its steady tears, but at least I could see beyond the curtain of rain now.
The door cracked open. Unsteady fingers thrust a small bottle into my hands. The door shut before I could voice any apprehension or appreciation.
I plunged back into the muddy track that ran out of town. Slipping, sliding, sinking. Covered in mud, I reached the yard, then the kitchen door, calling for a blanket and a change of clothes. The blanket came first.
“The bleeding stopped just after you left,” Ollie told me. “And I put the towels in there to soak.” She pointed to a bucket on the porch.
“You did good, honey. Now watch over the boys while I get changed.” I moved around to the side porch.
Only the downstairs bedroom window had a view of me here. The empty room with the door that remained shut. Huddling near the house, I peeled my dress and underclothes from my body and wrapped the clean blanket under my arms. In spite of the chill, it felt good to be dry.
I leaned over a bit, gathered my hair in my hands, and squeezed. Water splattered against the boards of the porch.
“Beautiful day, ain’t it?” Mr. Culpepper’s rumbly laugh followed.
I pressed myself flat against the side of the house, heaving for breath as I cinched the blanket more tightly across my chest. One bare foot tried to cover the other. My naked arms had nowhere to hide. How long had he been there? What had he seen? I groaned, refusing to even glance toward the road.
The mailman’s good-natured
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