Lone Star Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  Wande’s heart danced. Maybe she could feel at home in Texas, after all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Make up your mind, Morgan. Since the Fleischers left with the last of their belongings, Jud had moped around the yard. He’d fixed a rail that didn’t need fixing, cleared out his gear from the bunkhouse, straightened for the returning hands—not that they cared. Maybe he should offer to help the Fleischers settle in, except one of the men had failed to return from Christmas break, leaving the ranch shorthanded.

  Ma came out on the porch to ring the bell. “Come on in for supper. Tom’s already inside.”

  Jud bounded up the steps, scraped his boots, and took off his hat. The quiet of the parlor hit him like a north wind. Every day for two weeks, he couldn’t wait for the Fleischers to leave. The house couldn’t fit two families; he’d had to give up his room and sleep in the bunkhouse with only Tom for company.

  Not only had people filled the house, so had their chatter. All they did was talk, talk, talk, in that … language. When Jud was in the room, Meino and Alvie would speak English. Their attempt left Jud feeling like an intruder in his own home.

  But since their departure, less than a week ago, the house felt empty, too big for the three of them—four if he counted Tom. He felt a pang of loneliness for Calder, off in Tumbleweed with his bride. Come to think of it, Jud felt the same way when Calder left. He couldn’t wait to shed the responsibility, and then he missed him as soon as he disappeared over the horizon.

  They had all expected Marion’s turn to come next. Instead, Billie disappeared one day, never to be seen again. He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the grief that accompanied thoughts of his little sister.

  Laughter spilled from the kitchen, and for a minute, Jud thought he heard Wande. No, it couldn’t be Wande, so Marion must be laughing at something Tom said. A moment later, she poked her head out the kitchen door. “Come on, brother. Your food’s getting cold.”

  Jud stopped listening to the ghosts in the parlor and joined them in the kitchen. It was dreary in spite of the warmth from the stove and the colorful plates set out. How empty the table looked with only one person on each side. He sat at the head as usual, Marion to his right and Tom to his left. Ma’s place was at the far end, next to the stove.

  “I’ve got us some nice chickpea soup with cornbread.” Ma stirred the pot one last time. “It’s been simmering nicely. I’ll bring it to the table so we can all serve ourselves.”

  “Ma, wait, let me—”

  Ma wrapped a towel around the pot handle and lifted it. The towel slipped and the iron pot’s contents sloshed onto Ma’s face, the boiling soup splashing her arms, dress, and legs. She screamed, slipped, and fell in the thick puddle of scalding soup.

  Jud grabbed a pitcher of water from the table and poured it over Ma. “Tom, go to town for Doc Treviño.” When he didn’t jump into action, Jud shouted, “Now!” Ma’s eyes had closed, and she gave a low moan.

  Jud lifted Ma from the floor. “Open the door!” Marion ran ahead of him, into the parlor and onto the porch, holding the door open. He headed for the horse’s watering trough in the front yard.

  Marion reached it first and skimmed hay and debris from the surface of the water, before Jud plunged Ma into the trough. Water covered her from her feet to her neck.

  A red blotch ran from her right ear down her cheek and neck, but Jud didn’t dare plunge her face beneath the water. “Sis, run. Get towels.”

  Marion flew into the house and out again, carrying an armful. She submerged one in the water and laid it on Ma’s face. She groaned.

  “Ideally this water’d be lukewarm and clean, but this is better than nothing.” Marion wrung out a second towel and dabbed the rest of Ma’s face. “I think Ma has some carbolic acid on the top shelf of her wardrobe. Mix a bit of it with some water.”

  Jud nodded. Marion had learned a lot of home remedies from Ma. She knew best what to do. Who knew if Tom would find the doctor at home; he might not make it to the ranch for hours. By then, infection could set in.

  “Ma keeps some cotton in her sewing chest,” she said. “Soak that in the carbolic solution.”

  “How long does she need to soak out here?” Jud rubbed his arms. “It’s a mite chilly. That can’t be good, on top of the burn.”

  “I don’t know.” Marion lifted the towel from Ma’s cheek. A small piece of flesh tore, and she groaned. Marion made a clicking sound. “I’ll go change her bed so she’s got clean sheets. And I’ll make up the carbolic solution. You keep changing the towel on her cheek every couple of minutes.”

  Jud felt like Marion must have had enough time to change all the beds in the house before she called, “It’s ready.” She dashed down the steps. “I’ll hold her head up while you get her body.” She cupped Ma’s head in her hands.

  Jud plunged his arms into the cold water and hoped they hadn’t left her in it too long. He didn’t know if she was unconscious from the fall or the agony of her burns. He threaded one arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees and lifted her from the trough.

  Ma thrashed in Jud’s arms. He gritted his teeth and got to her room quicker than he ever had in his life. He lay his mother on the bed, her reddened skin and pea-green soaked dress a sickening contrast to the clean white sheets. He brushed his hand against his eyes, closer to tears than he had been since … the Comanches snatched Billie.

  “You go on out now and see if you can get the carbolic solution ready. I didn’t have time.” Marion nodded to the bottle on the top shelf of the wardrobe. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’ll call you after I’ve undressed her.”

  Lord, spare my mother. The words repeated themselves in Jud’s brain.

  “Look, Wande.” Alvie stopped fluffing the pillows on the parlor chairs long enough to look out the window. “Tom from the ranch is riding by.”

  Wande paused her dusting to peek out the window. “I do not see him.”

  “His horse flew by. Do you think something is wrong?”

  “Something is wrong at the ranch?” Mama stepped into the parlor. “Has someone been hurt?”

  “Alvie thought she saw Tom.”

  “It was Tom.”

  Wande slipped out the front door and stared in the direction Tom would have taken, wishing he had stopped to say hello. She wanted a greeting from Marion—or even Jud. It had been only a few days, but it seemed an age since she spoke with them.

  In the distance she heard shouts, something about Dr. Treviño.

  Mama joined her. “Do you see him?” Wande pointed. “Someone has been hurt. He is asking for the doctor.”

  “The doctor is not in town. He was going to see me today, but he sent word that he’s attending a birthing.” Wande called inside, “Drud?”

  The hammering in her parents’ bedroom ceased, and her brother came out. “Ja?”

  “Tom Cotton from the ranch came into town looking for the doctor. We think someone at the ranch has been hurt. I need you to run and ask what happened.”

  He nodded and took off down the street, his long legs eating up the distance.

  Wande’s mind ran in circles. Who had been injured? Mrs. Morgan? Marion? Jud? Wande’s heart skipped a beat. “One of us must go help.” She went inside and searched among the things still in crates for Mama’s supply of medicines.

  “What are you doing, daughter?” Mama asked the question, but when Wande raised her eyes, she looked into the gaze of her father.

  She lifted her chin. “If someone has been hurt at the ranch, I am going to help.”

  Her parents exchanged one of those glances. “It is not good for you to go alone, Liebchen.”

  “Papa, do not you see? Now is our opportunity to repay their hospitality.”

  “But …”

  “You know I am right. And Mama can’t go. The doctor told her to take it easy. The boys would be useless. They know nothing of healing. I know a little. I can help. Ja?”

  “She is right,”
Mama said. “But one of the boys should go with her. Drud?”

  “No, Georg. Jud said he might have a job for Georg if he wanted one.” Papa hugged Wande. “I am glad to see you thinking of something besides that Konrad. Go, with my blessings. Send word of what you find.”

  Drud returned a few minutes later with Tom.

  “You wanted to see me?” Tom didn’t even dismount. “I need to get back to the ranch.”

  “Someone is hurt?” Papa said.

  “Mrs. Morgan burned herself, bad. And Doc Treviño is out of town.”

  Relief swept over Wande, and she chided herself. A burn. How painful. She regretted injury to any of them.

  “I am sorry to hear it.” Papa shook his head. “Yes, you must hurry. Tell them my Wande and Georg are coming to help. They will take the wagon as soon as they can. The doctor will come here, to see Mrs. Fleischer. We will get word to him as soon as we can.”

  By the time Wande and Georg arrived, the sun was beginning to fade. The ranch seemed deserted until Tom ran out of the house, waving his arms. “There you are. Marion said for you to come right in.”

  Georg helped Wande from the wagon. “I will take care of the animals. Tell Jud I will do the chores so he can stay with his mother.”

  Wande patted her brother on the back. “Danke!” She took a firm hold of her valise and entered the house.

  Odors she had never smelled before assaulted her from the kitchen. Onion, garlic, chicken, tomato, and other unknown spices … a faint odor of something burned. Her stomach churned, and she hurried up the stairs to Mrs. Morgan’s bedroom.

  Marion hugged Wande. “Thank you for coming.” Jud looked up briefly, then returned his gaze to the quiet figure on the bed.

  “How is she?” Wande took a seat opposite him. A sweet, tarry odor filled her nostrils from the dressing of carbolic acid on the burns.

  “I’ve been better.” Mrs. Morgan spoke through lips almost gummed together. “Thank you for coming, dear.”

  “May I?” Wande touched the sheet. Jud turned his head, and she lifted the covers. Mrs. Morgan was swathed in cotton from neck to waist.

  “It’s not as bad as we first thought. Her upper body got the worst of it.” Marion bent over and checked the dressing. “We’ll have to change these soon, before they start sticking to her skin.”

  Mrs. Morgan groaned. “I know that’s best, but … I can’t believe I let the soup spill all over me.”

  A shadow fell across the bed as Jud stood. “I’ll leave you to it.” He shuddered, as his muscles relaxed from sitting so long. “I’ve got some chores. I’ll finish as soon as I can.”

  Wande followed him into the hallway. “Georg is doing the chores. If he misses something, tell him. He learns quickly.”

  “Tom said Georg might come.”

  Mrs. Morgan moaned, and Jud jumped. He gestured for Wande to follow him into the parlor.

  “I was going to come see your family as soon as I could get away. One of my ranch hands didn’t come back from Christmas, and I wondered if Georg would like a job.” He paused, his nose wrinkling at the odor from the kitchen. “And now with this … Marion’s going to need some help around the house until Ma gets better. Do you want the job?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  A refusal sputtered in Wande’s throat as she stared at Jud. She had returned to the ranch because it was the right thing to do—the Christian thing. She didn’t want or expect payment. But only last night her family talked about ways to bring in more money for food and clothing. Now God placed an opportunity in front of her.

  “I would stay for nothing.” Wande wanted him to understand. “But if you wish to pay me, I will not refuse.”

  “That’s settled, then.” Jud nodded. “I’ll go talk with Georg about his duties.”

  Duties—such an ugly word for the neighborly thing to do. At least Jud hadn’t refused their help. Later she would clean the kitchen and fix a bite to eat … she suspected no one had eaten since morning … but she would check with Marion first.

  They met at the bottom of the staircase. “What do you need, Marion?” Wande gestured to the kitchen. “Warm water?”

  “Yes. But be careful walking in the kitchen. We don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.” Marion’s nose wrinkled at the smell, and she ran a hand across her forehead. “I need to clean up in there. I hope the doctor can get here soon.”

  “Papa will watch for him. I bring the water when it is warm and pray the doctor returns soon.” She waited until the pot of water had warmed before pouring it into a basin. She was lifting it when Jud came in.

  “Let me do that.” The way he raced to her side, Wande wondered if she had done something wrong. He felt the sides of the container, and his shoulders relaxed. “I don’t want two people burned in this house today.”

  “Be careful of the floor.” While the water was heating, Wande cleaned the worst of the spill, but in places the floor was still slick.

  He looked down. “You cleaned up in here. Thanks.”

  “It was nothing.” Wande walked ahead of him to open doors. In Mrs. Morgan’s bedroom, she caught sight of angry red welts banding the right half of Mrs. Morgan’s torso.

  Marion met him at the door. “The water is ready. Good. I want to get fresh bandages on.”

  Jud lowered his eyes. “Let me know when you’re done.”

  Jud didn’t return as soon as Marion expected. She heard a low murmur of voices from the kitchen and smelled cornbread. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten anything since she had eggs and bacon for breakfast shortly after sunrise.

  Ma couldn’t eat, but she probably should drink as much water as Marion could give her. “I’ll be right back, Ma.” In the kitchen she found Wande preparing supper with Jud, Tom, and Georg waiting at the table.

  “Is Mrs. Morgan any better?” Wande turned over the ham steak she was browning in a skillet.

  Marion shook her head. “But when I smelled the food cooking, I realized she should drink water.” She reached for a glass from the cabinet.

  “Sit down and have a bite.” Jud grabbed a pitcher. “I’ll take care of this. Should Ma eat something?”

  “No.” Marion and Wande responded at the same time.

  A faint smile played on Jud’s lips.

  Wande piled a plate with sweet potatoes, cornbread, and ham and laid it in front of Marion. “Eat. You won’t helfen your mama if you wear yourself out.” She placed a mug of tea in front of her. “There is no milk. Georg says the cow is dry.”

  At the mention of his name, Georg nodded at Marion, then returned his attention to his food.

  “Until she births the calf.” Marion spoke between bites. “Not too long now.”

  Wande had put different spices in the sweet potatoes, and it gave them an unfamiliar zing. Marion noticed that Tom picked at his potatoes, but wolfed down extra helpings of ham and cornbread. He liked his food plain.

  Someone rapped on the door, and Tom sprang to answer it. “Doc Treviño.”

  When Marion saw the lines of exhaustion on the doctor’s face, she felt bad that she’d called him out yet again.

  “Where’s the patient?” The cheerfulness of his voice belied his expression.

  “Up the stairs, first door on the right.” Marion left her chair after spooning down a last bite of food. Jud was right, supper had refreshed her. As they climbed the stairs with the doctor, she outlined the care they had given. “I’ve changed the dressings three times, but I’m about to run out of clean bandages.”

  “Mention that to Fraulein Fleischer. I’m sure she’ll wash some out for you.”

  “Wande has been wonderful. I can’t believe she came back here when she heard what had happened.” Marion smiled until she heard a moan that sent her racing for the bedroom. She burst in. “What’s wrong?”

  “Doc. You’re here.” Jud’s voice radiated relief. “She’s in a lot of pain.”

  “Don’t talk about pain to a woman who’s birthed four children.” Ma’s attempt
at humor fell flat as she spoke through clenched teeth, sweat dotting her brow. “I was fine until this son of mine insisted I drink water. I told him it felt like gravel forcing its way down my throat, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “He’s right. You do need water. Burns suck all the moisture out of you. Mr. Morgan, you may wish to leave while I examine your mother.”

  Marion took his place at Ma’s side. When the doctor lifted the dressings, Ma flinched but didn’t make a sound.

  “You’ve done a good job with keeping the dressings from sticking to the burns. Continue doing that. All we can do in cases like this is to make Mrs. Morgan as comfortable as possible and wait for her skin to grow back.” He poured a reddish-brown liquid into a spoon.