by Emily Woods
The man scowled at him a little. “Dysentery is preventable, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Dr. Taylor replied, his voice patient. “And I also know that people are fallible. Well, I suggest you attempt to get some garlic in at least, if not some of the other items.” He turned around abruptly and came face to face with George and Sarah. “Ah, at least you have been moderately successful, I see.”
George handed over the items to the doctor, who looked them over one at a time.
“There wasn't any lemon or mint,” George informed him almost apologetically. “Not that we could see anyway.”
“No,” the doctor replied, giving a sidelong glance to the proprietor. “I don't expect there would be anything like that.”
“Will this be enough?” Sarah asked anxiously, her face earnest and sweet. George felt another wave of attraction at her consideration for her sister who, as everyone knew, was not always kind to her.
“We'll see,” her father replied, paying for the items they'd been able to find. “Thank you, George, for going with her. I need to get back to Margie as quickly as I can, but there's no reason Sarah has to come back.”
“I should help Mother,” Sarah interjected. “She might need me.”
Her father smiled kindly. “No, dearest girl. Stay and socialize a little. Look around some more. It will be your last chance to do so before we reach Willamette Valley.” He looked at George again. “Take this and see if you can't find something sweet for you two to enjoy.” He handed over a couple of coins and nodded again. “Thank you for your help. You are a fine young man.”
George knew that he would curry favor with the doctor by offering his assistance, but he hadn't expected the gratitude to feel so good. Having been without a father for so many years, he didn't know how to react to the praise.
“Uh, well, it was nothing, sir,” he said awkwardly, not knowing where to look. “Really.”
“Nonsense. You could have immediately taken yourself off to the tavern like many of the other men, but you thought of others first. That is worth my taking notice.” He looked from Sarah to George and then back again. He put his hand on George's shoulder. “I trust you will take good care of my daughter.”
George stood up a little straighter. “Yes, sir. I will, sir.”
Dr. Taylor nodded and walked briskly back to his wagon, not looking back once. It seemed he had every confidence that Sarah was in good hands.
“Well, you certainly earned my father's respect,” Sarah murmured. “And that's not easy to do.”
Looking down at her, George gave her a little grin. “I was trying to do just that.”
He watched her blink a few times as though confused, but when she looked up at him, it was clear that she understood.
“I don't have any experience with men,” she admitted. “My sister chased away anyone who showed the slightest interest in me.”
George hesitated a little before replying, “I'm sorry your sister is sick, but not sorry that I get to spend time with you. I—I think you're, uh, really...nice.” He hated how stupid he sounded. “I mean, you care about your family and you don't try to show off. You're also easy to be around.”
Sweat broke out along the base of his spine at the effort of putting so many words together, but it was well worth it to see the smile on her face.
“I'd like to spend time with you as well,” she said politely, but her face bore a trace of worry.
“But you're thinking about your sister, right? It's okay. We don't have to stay here. Let's go back so you can check on her.”
He thought he hid his disappointment well, and in truth, his admiration for her rose even further.
“You're a good man, George Lewis,” she told him, her eyes shining brightly even as she blushed and ducked her head. “A very good man.”
As much as he wanted to revel in her compliments, he couldn't because he was not a good man at all, but a very selfish one. He was putting his own needs and desires before hers, telling himself that he could be enough for her if he tried.
But in his heart, he knew he wasn't even fooling himself.
Over the course of the next day, Margie's temperature came down, and she seemed to be getting better. She still slept most of the time and didn't talk much, but Sarah's family was greatly relieved. It was partly due to the products they'd been able to find at the fort, but Sarah also felt quite certain that God had healed her sister. In fact, a small miracle had happened.
After she and George had parted the day before, he'd gone around to the other wagon trains that were stopping at the fort, asking after the ingredients they hadn't been able to find. Hours later, he'd been able to buy not only some mint from a woman who had insisted on bringing her herb garden west, but also a bulb of garlic, which he'd promptly brought to her father.
George was already so high on her father's list of approval, but that act of kindness and thoughtfulness put him above and beyond.
“I know he doesn't have much in the way of worldly things,” her father told her the next day, “but I wouldn't mind welcoming that boy into my family.”
The hint was so heavy that Sarah had blushed fiercely. “Father...” she murmured, hiding her face in her shoulder. “There's been no mention of anything like that.”
However, that wasn't entirely true. George had implied that he'd worked so hard to find the products for her sister because of her. And he'd also complimented her...sort of. It wasn't like she'd read about in romance novels, but hearing the words come out of his mouth had made her feel valued and admired.
She wondered if she might have enjoyed such flattery if her sister had been well, but then she quickly scolded herself for thinking that way. It wasn't very Christian of her. And she was becoming more aware of what that meant as she attended Preacher Riley's nightly devotions the past two nights.
Since the preacher had come to pray for her sister, her parents' estimation of the man had risen significantly, and they'd given her their blessing to attend. George had been there too, but he stayed at a discreet distance. Sarah was glad of this because as much as she enjoyed his company, her heart was touched by the readings and prayers. When she was in the small circle of people who came nightly to hear the preacher read from the Bible, offer a few words of encouragement, and then pray for them all, she felt peace.
“I'd like to look around the fort with your father,” her mother said to her in the afternoon while everyone was resting. “Would you mind staying with Margie for a bit?”
“Of course not,” she answered easily. “I'm happy to do it.”
It was mostly true, she thought. She was glad to give her mother a reprieve, but she still wasn't sure how she felt about Margie's betrayal. Forgiveness was the subject that Preacher Riley had spoken on last night, but she struggled with it. Why was her sister so bent on seeing her miserable? Was it because she was miserable herself?
As she moved around their camp site, tidying up the items from lunch, which was a hot meal for once since they weren't walking at all today, she tried to pray.
“Keeping busy, I see,” came a deep voice from behind her. She turned to see George standing just a few feet away. She couldn't help but notice how his blue eyes rested on her face like he was looking at a beautiful picture. Her dreaded blush returned with a vengeance, and she dropped her head to focus on the plates she was holding that needed to be scrubbed.
“Um, yes. My parents are taking a walk around the fort, so I'm here with my sister.”
The words sounded so inane to her ears, but George’s admiring look never wavered.
“Yeah, they stopped by my wagon and told me.”
Her head flew up in surprise. “They did?”
Giving a quick nod, he ambled over to a chair and took a seat in the chair in which her father had been sitting for lunch. He leaned forward on his elbows, his hands resting on his knees. The air was hot and dry, but it didn't seem to affect him. He looked completely comfortable.
“I guess they w
ere worried about their girls and asked if I'd look out for you.”
Sarah knew the gesture was meant kindly, protectively, and that she should appreciate it given the number of strange men that were in the vicinity, but she didn't enjoy being beholden to George. At least, that was what she told herself. She wouldn't admit that she wanted him to be here of his own volition.
“I'm sorry that they bothered you. You must have something else you'd like to do with your day. Please, don't feel like you have to stay. We're perfectly safe here.”
His eyebrows drew together slightly. “You don't want me here,” he remarked with a trace of disappointment. “I'll go back to my wagon then. I can see you good enough from there. Holler if you need anything.”
Even though she couldn't say why, Sarah felt like this was a pivotal moment. If she let him go, their fledgling connection might be broken for good.
“No!” she fairly shouted as he stood to leave. He looked at her, confused by her indecisiveness “Uh, I meant to say that I don't want to take you away from anything important, but if you're not busy, then I would enjoy the company.”
His whole face changed, and when he grinned broadly, she knew she'd done the right thing. When he sat back down again, relief flooded her racing heart.
“So would I,” he replied simply. Looking over at the wagon, he asked, “How's your sister faring today? Better, I hope?”
She hadn't checked on her yet, but nodded anyway. “I think so. She still has a bit of a fever, but she's managing to eat some broth that I made. I used quite a lot of the garlic you brought us. My father said that the castor oil is helping her a lot, as is the mint. He's so grateful to you.”
He nodded a little and then bowed his head. “Well, I did it because you were so worried about your sister. I didn't want you to be upset.”
Her heart, which had been pounding just a moment before, seemed to slow down in her chest as the meaning of his words sank in.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I'm very glad.”
More than anything, she wanted to say something to show that she reciprocated his feelings, but first, she had to settle things between her and Margie. She couldn't begin any kind of romance with bitterness between her and her sister. It didn't feel right.
His eyes rested on her and he appeared to be waiting for something more. A thought suddenly occurred to her and she jumped up.
“Wait right there,” she said mysteriously as she jumped to her feet. “I'll be right back.”
She hoped to distract him for a little while longer so that she could find the courage to do what she had to do.
6
George watched as Sarah disappeared into the back of the wagon. What was she going to get and why was she so skittish today? Yesterday, she seemed comfortable around him, but now she was acting like a newborn calf.
He thought about how radiant she'd looked the night before during Preacher Riley's nightly talk. The way she leaned forward as though to catch every last word had been utterly captivating, so much so that he nearly didn't hear the man's words himself.
But he did hear them, and they stirred up a lot of old emotions. Beth didn't seem to have any problem with what he said, and she had just as much reason as he did to hold bitterness in her heart, but she told him later that she'd forgiven their mother for leaving them, their father for sending them away, and even their relatives for treating them so poorly. It seemed that love had a powerful effect on her. When he'd said as much, she shook her head.
“It's not that, George, but I admit that being with Michael makes me all kinds of happy. The thing is that I'm beginning to understand who Jesus is and what He did for me, for all of us. He left the perfect life He had in Heaven because He knew that it was the only way to give us freedom.”
She hadn't said too much after that, probably because his eyes had kind of glazed over. The words were nice, but they didn't mean anything to him. What did Jesus's death so many years ago have to do with his life now? He just didn't get it, but he was glad that she was happy and told her so.
“You could be happy too,” she'd informed him. “If you just open up your heart.”
“I might just do that,” he'd replied slowly, but his mind wasn't on God or Jesus. He was thinking of Sarah and the future they might have together.
After another minute, Sarah emerged from the wagon with something in her hand. She came to sit by him and then showed him what she had. He heard a sharp intake of breath, but didn't realize right away what it was.
“It looks...so real!”
She'd taken his simple carving of the hummingbird and painted it so carefully that he nearly expected the small creature's wings to start beating.
The smile that lit her face in response to his compliment caused a deep stirring within him.
“Thank you. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to do your beautiful carving justice.”
Shaking his head, partly to dispute her concern and partly in wonder, he reached over and took the bird out of her hand.
“You brought it to life,” he said softly. “I would have never believed it.”
“Thank you for letting me,” she replied. “It was my pleasure to paint your carving.”
For a moment, her words didn't completely register because he was so in awe of the piece, but then he realized what she said.
“It's not mine,” he informed her, placing the figure back in her hand. “I gave it to you. I want you to have it.”
“Oh, but I couldn't accept a gift from you. It would be inappropriate. That would be like...like...”
He could see that she was struggling to find the words, so he supplied them. “Like we're courting? Well, Miss Sarah, if you would allow me to, I'd like to court you.”
The boldness of the comment seemed to silence them both. He could hardly believe that he'd come right out and said it, but being with her gave him courage he never knew he had.
“I—I...” she started to say and then closed her mouth. Staring down at the bird, she ran her finger over its head lightly. “I'd have to ask my father,” she finally whispered.
His heart leaped with joy. It was not a refusal, and he felt quite certain after yesterday that her father would be agreeable.
“I don't have much to my name,” he said apologetically. “But I'm a good worker, and I'll do everything I can to make you comfortable and happy. I know we still have a ways to go before we reach Oregon, and even then, I'll need to file my claim and work the land for at least a couple years before...” His courage temporarily left him. Taking a breath, he tried to slow himself down. If he declared his intentions all at once, he might scare her off. “We have time to sort everything out.”
She nodded, and he saw tears form at the corner of her eyes. Dashing them away, she gave him a tremulous smile.
“I'd like that, with my father's permission, and...” Her words trailed off and he wondered what she wanted to say.
“Is there something else standing in the way?” he asked quietly, worried that maybe she had doubts about him.
“Not something,” she answered with a sigh and a glance at the wagon. “Someone…but I think I'm about to resolve that as well. Please be patient with me.”
Her words encouraged him enough to reach over and brush away another tear that fell.
“I can do that, Sarah. I can do that for sure.”
She felt the need to check on her sister, so George told her to go ahead. He'd go get his whittling and bring it back so he could be nearby.
The feeling of his rough hand wiping away her tear lingered on her face. She'd been surprised by it, but not displeased. It might have been overstepping a little bit, but she was glad that he was there. His declaration of his feelings gave her the motivation she needed to talk to her sister once she was able.
Climbing into the wagon, Sarah gazed at Margie. Her face was still a little flushed, so she took up a cloth and dipped it into the bowl of water that was beside her. Wiping Margie's cheeks and forehead, Sarah
noticed that she wasn't as hot as she’d been yesterday. And then she opened her eyes.
“Sarah?” she said weakly. “What's happening?”
Pity for her sister rose up and pushed away the anger for the moment. She'd never seen Margie so helpless before.
“You got dysentery from drinking water that wasn't boiled,” she said softly, trying not to scold. “Father said that he thinks you'll be fine as long as you can keep drinking liquids and are able to swallow the mixtures he's made.”
Margie closed her eyes and frowned. “I don't think I can take anything. My stomach feels horrid.”
Now was not the time to coddle, Sarah decided. “Well, you have to try. We're all praying for you and if you don't do this, you'll die.” It was a bit harsh, but she knew that Margie only responded to the dramatic.
Opening her eyes a little and staring at her sister, she blew out a weak breath. “Fine. What do I have to drink?”
First, she gave her some of the chamomile tea and then followed it with a mix her father had made. It smelled as though there was mint, honey, and ginger in it. Margie didn't want to take it, but Sarah forced her.
“I can't have you dying on us,” she said firmly. “You need to take it.”
Never had she ever been so forceful with Margie, but the tactic seemed to work. Her sister opened her mouth the tiniest bit and Sarah spooned in the mixture, followed by a few more drops of the tea.
“You have to stay hydrated, Margie,” she informed her.
“I'm so tired,” she replied. “Can I sleep more?”
Sarah nodded. “But I'll be back in half an hour to give you some broth.”
After wrapping up the honey mixture, Sarah replaced the cloth in the water and turned to go.
“Sarah?”
She turned. “Yes?”
“I heard a man's voice that isn't Father's. Who's out there with you?”
This wasn't the way she wanted to confront her sister, but at the same time, she felt perhaps she was well enough to know.
“It's George Lewis. He's keeping me company while Mother and Father are at the fort.”