The tea battled the fever and made Quill sleep.
He needed rest to fight the infection, and without the tea he was uncomfortable and restless. Convincing Mitch to let Quill drink the medicine was a fight. For some strange reason, he took everything Ilsa said and did wrong.
Jo appreciated that Dave seemed to trust Ilsa. He and Ma had worked hard to persuade Mitch to go along.
The two men helped administer the awful stuff. Quill, in a delirium, seemed inclined to swing a fist when they came near him, so it was good to have strength on their side.
“He’s better?” Dave rose from where he was crouched by the fire, his eyes flashing with excited relief.
Jo put one finger to her lips. “He’s asleep.”
“He’s going to make it.” Dave was exuberant but quiet as he took two long steps to reach her, swept her up in his arms, and whirled her around with a laugh.
“Shhh.” She slapped his shoulders but couldn’t help smiling. “Your ma has hardly had a wink of sleep for days.”
Dave grinned. With Jo in his arms—her feet dangling above the floor, he walked to the door, set her down for a second, and grabbed two coats off the peg, hoisted her again, and took her straight outside into the cold dawn.
“What are you doing?” Jo’s whisper was met with Dave’s laughing.
“I can’t be quiet.” He walked until they were a fair distance from the house, then he set her down in the snow, glad they both had their shoes on. He thrust her coat at her, then pulled on his own, still smiling.
Then, with a sigh deep enough to make the branches wave, he said, “Thank God.” He looked up to heaven and raised both arms high and wide. “Thank you, dear God in Heaven.”
Jo dragged her coat on and stood in the beautiful snow, listening to his joy, his prayers, watching him be so relieved and happy. She realized she was smiling like a lunatic.
“He’s going to make it, Dave. Your pa is going to live.” She threw herself into his arms.
He caught her and whirled her around so she was lifted high enough to look down at him.
They both laughed with pleasure and relief. She hugged her arms tightly around his neck. The whirling finally stopped. The laughter calmed, and she looked down at his sparkling eyes.
Slowly. Too slowly, he lowered her to the ground, their gazes locked. The wispy snow making the world all around them seem to recede until they were really alone, the only two people in the world.
His eyes left hers to flicker downward. Almost as if he were looking at her lips. It made her feel funny in a way she really didn’t understand. Her lips felt dry so she licked them, and he noticed that for sure.
Her happiness was like a flame popping to life in a lantern. They stood together, just looking. Slowly, with not far to go, Dave lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.
A kiss. She remembered kisses. Not from her grandparents—she didn’t think they did such things. But her parents were known to share a kiss.
Her arms tightened around his neck. His nose bumped hers, and he tilted his head sideways. So lovely, to be in the arms of such a fine man, in the rising dawn, in the drifting snow. The cold driven back by his strong arms.
Dave raised his head slowly, still watching her, so close he wouldn’t have to speak loud at all if he talked.
“Pa’s gonna make it.” Dave closed his eyes as if he couldn’t contain the joy.
“Yes.” She leaned close because it was nice. “He woke up soaked in sweat about an hour after I took over for you. He talked to me, his thoughts clear, his fever gone. I helped him drink a good amount of water. I tried some broth, and he got a few swallows down, but mostly he was just so tired. He fell back asleep, and then your ma fell asleep. I told her I’d sit up.”
Dave hugged her and took another kiss. This one longer, deeper.
Jo’s eyes fluttered open, and she fully registered the dim light of dawn and realized what it meant. “It’s morning. This happened quite a while ago—much longer than an hour. I must’ve fallen asleep.” It scared her to think of how long she’d neglected Quill. “But I felt his forehead before I came out here, and the fever has stayed down.”
“You’ve been in there since I went to bed? Mitch should’ve taken over.” Dave pivoted to stare at the cabin door.
“I’ve never had to wake him up.” Jo looked at the cabin, too. “I was sitting in the chair by your pa’s bedside and woke up with my head resting on the mattress. Mitch was just as tired. We are all worn clean out.”
Frowning, Dave said, “Not Mitch. He’s got more energy than all of us combined.”
Jo saw him hesitate. She didn’t blame him. Mitch was probably just really tired, but Dave took a firm hold of her hand and led her back inside. He took off his coat and helped her off with hers, which seemed strange. She needed no help.
One more sweet kiss, then he went to Mitch’s door and swung it open.
His voice was quiet but teasing, when he said, “Mitch, you slept through your shift.”
No answer.
Jo came up behind and watched Dave swing the door wide. The room was dark, with the shutters closed and the dawn still too new to give light around the tightly fitted window shutters.
Mitch was fast asleep, and Jo had been around him long enough to know the man was always fast to wake up. And he’d gone to bed right after dinner because his turn sitting with Quill came early. He’d been asleep near ten hours by now.
Dave walked up and grabbed Mitch’s leg. Sounding like a mischievous boy, Dave shook Mitch’s leg hard. “You slept through your work, brother. Stop being lazy.”
No answer.
With a gasp, Dave went forward, and Jo whirled and grabbed a lantern, turning it up as she brought it in. Dave was on his knees beside Mitch, whose eyes were flickering open and shut like each eyelid weighed ten pounds.
“Whaz goin’ on?” Mitch slurred his usual crisp words and raised one hand to shield his eyes as if the lantern hurt them.
“Jo, he’s got a fever.” Dave looked up at Jo, frantic. “Bring the light close.”
Jo felt a fear she couldn’t understand when she obeyed Dave.
“Look at his face. He’s got spots all over it.”
“What is it?” Jo’s mind flashed through all the diseases her kin had died from. Typhoid, cholera, fever . . . Grandma had written all those in her big Bible. Quill just had a fever, and that didn’t kill him. But what did Mitch have?
Fever alone could mean a lot of things . . . spots? The sisters had fevers from time to time, related to an injury, but no rashes. She remembered Grandma having a terrible fear of rashes.
Dave shoved himself to his feet and went running. He almost tripped over his ma, who must’ve woken from the ruckus. She was rushing out of Quill’s bedroom. Jo had insisted she sleep after Quill’s fever broke. Ma had been almost constantly at her husband’s side all these days.
Ma must’ve gotten all the urgency because she turned to rush back toward Quill’s room.
“No, Ma, in here. Mitch is sick.”
“Sick?” Ma skidded as she turned toward the new trouble. She whisked past Dave, dodged around Jo, and went to Mitch’s side.
Jo held the lantern high while Ma talked quietly with her prodigal son.
By now, Ilsa and Ursula were awake and coming to see what had happened.
“Quill’s fever broke in the night,” Jo said. She knew everyone’s thoughts went to him when there was an upset.
Ma looked up. Relief washed over her expression, then faded away just as fast. “One man healing and another sick.”
“He wasn’t shot or injured, was he?” Ursula asked. Jo saw her big sister in the flickering lantern light and thought for one second Ursula was sick, too. In fact, Jo took a step toward her to feel her forehead.
Before she could take a second step, Ma charged right toward them, clogged in the doorway.
“Get out. Now.” She got out of the bedroom as fast as she’d gone in, closing Mitch’s door behind
her, and everyone fell back. “Jo, Ilsa, Ursula, you all have to leave, now. Without touching anything or taking one more breath. Dave, have the men finished work on our cabin yet?”
“No, I had them add a chimney to the one in the high valley. I thought we had time—”
“Go, now. Take the girls, then get back here.”
“B-but why?” Jo didn’t want to be sent away. “What is wrong?”
“I’ve been saying you’re overly worried about being sick, but I’m not sure what my son has. Mitch is newly back from New York City. He’s been home a week, but who knows how many people he saw and how long he’s been traveling. Many sicknesses take time to show themselves. Somewhere, on his way home, Mitch picked up something that he is just now coming down with. He could spread it to all of you.”
A door slammed, and Jo turned to see Ursula was gone.
“I’ll stay.” Ilsa took a step forward. “You can’t tend two sick men by yourself.”
“No, I can’t.” Ma swallowed hard. “Dave, I need you back here as fast as you can get the girls settled.”
“Women, Ma,” Jo said, cutting her off. “We are adult women. Not children to be sent running and hiding when there is trouble. You need help. We’re not leaving you to a sickness that could hurt you and Dave, and in his weakened condition will almost certainly spread to Quill.”
Ma turned haggard eyes on Jo. “I doubt you’ve heard this, but there is a disease called s-smallpox.” She swallowed hard again.
Dave gasped and looked past her as if he could see through the bedroom door where his brother lay fighting to wake up fully. He was a sick man and no denying it. “Smallpox? You think he might have smallpox?”
“I hope to God it’s not. There are other sicknesses that leave a rash.”
“You hope he’s got something else?” Jo didn’t want to be sent away. “Why is smallpox so bad?”
Ma turned to Jo, her eyes haunted with fear. Tears brimmed, and Jo wanted to hold her against the fear. But Jo knew Ma wouldn’t allow it. Not after she’d told them to get out.
“Because if Mitch has smallpox, then there’s a good chance, in the next couple of weeks, about half of us will die.”
Jo gasped. Ilsa came to her side and hugged her.
Ma’s eyes went back to Dave. “I don’t think I can care for both of them alone. I hate asking you to come back, but what else can we do?”
Dave went to the pegs by the door and settled his hat firmly on his head, then pulled on his coat. “Let’s go. Jo, Ilsa, we have to get you out of here. My cowpokes have a room and chimney added to your grandpa’s cabin. You can stay there.”
He shoved coats at both of them. Jo wanted to stay, but all the fears and dire warnings she’d grown up with were like blizzard winds buffeting her. Feeling like the worst kind of coward, she grabbed her coat, then her quiver and bow, and rushed out, running away.
Standing on the outside, watching life. Like always.
Ilsa was slower to come out. Her little fairy princess of a sister might be the bravest of the three. Or the most foolish.
Ursula was standing back, her arms crossed, a frown nearly cutting wrinkles from the corners of her mouth to her chin.
Dave headed for the barn, hollering for help saddling horses.
“I’ve never ridden a horse.” Ilsa sounded excited.
“How can you be happy at a time like this?” Ursula nearly vibrated with fear. Her arms weren’t just crossed, they were holding her together. “After a lifetime of being careful, we let strangers onto our mountain, and after only days, we are exposed to some dreaded disease.”
Ursula had left before Ma had mentioned smallpox. Jo wasn’t about to tell Ursula things could be far worse than even her darkest thoughts—or no, that wasn’t right. Because Ursula’s darkest thoughts were exactly how bad it could get.
Dave came out leading two horses. Alberto came behind with one more.
“Let’s get you up there. Alberto and Jimmy Joe will ride with you, and they’ll make sure you have supplies and plenty of wood for the fire. I’m not leaving Ma alone.”
Jimmy Joe and another man emerged from the barn, each leading a horse.
Dave boosted Jo up. Ursula jumped back from him when he tried to guide her to a horse.
“Do you know how to mount a horse by yourself?”
Ursula shook her head tightly.
Looking around frantically, his eyes landed on a tree stump. The tree had been dead, and his men had cut it for firewood just a few days ago. It was fairly smooth on top and about the right height for Ursula to use to climb on the horse.
“Climb up there.” He pointed to the stump.
Jo was surprised her big sister did as she was told. Her need to get away must have overpowered her need to fuss over everything Dave said.
“I won’t touch you. Just grab the saddle horn.” Dave waited.
Jo clamped her mouth shut to not distract Ursula from the first horse ride she’d had in years, probably since before Grandpa died.
Ursula grabbed the right thing, to Jo’s relief.
Dave kept a firm hold on the reins and patted his horse’s neck to keep it calm—or maybe to keep his hands busy so he wouldn’t grab Ursula and get her settled. Jo could see he was crazed to get back in and help his ma.
“Now swing your right leg over the saddle and hang on for the ride. I’ll tie the horses together in a string, and Alberto will lead you.”
Ursula was awhile getting up, and she didn’t look exactly comfortable, but she was balanced on the saddle and seemed stable. At least for right now.
Jo noticed Ilsa talking to her horse. Dave had to urge her onto the horse’s back next.
At last the horses were strung together, each horse tied to the one in front of it. Jo could’ve probably handled her own mount, but everyone was hurrying as fast as the Nordegren sisters would allow. To save time, Jo let Dave arrange things to suit him.
Dave came to her side as Jimmy Joe swung up onto his horse.
Reaching up, Dave rested one hand on Jo’s, which she had wrapped around the saddle horn.
“Jo, I don’t want to send you away. But it’s for your own safety and the safety of your sisters.”
Wordlessly, Jo nodded. She didn’t want to leave him, either.
“This morning meant a lot to me, but everything has to wait until Mitch is well.”
“And until we see if all of us catch this sickness and . . . and survive it.” Jo swallowed hard and fought the terrible fear Grandma had instilled in her. “I want to stay. You’ll need help. You and your ma are already worn down to a nub from your pa’s sickness. And Ilsa is the one who knows how to make more medicine. She’s prepared a good supply though, and your ma knows how to make it into tea.”
“We’ll be fine. Getting you to safety, I hope in time to spare you whatever Mitch has, is important.” Dave’s hand tightened on hers for just a moment. Their eyes clung as surely as their hands.
Alberto took the leading rein, tied it to his saddle horn, and mounted up.
Dave let go. It was a good thing, because Jo might well have held on until she was pulled right out of the saddle.
Then Alberto led them away, Jimmy Joe bringing up the rear.
Jo looked back to see Dave watching them go. Their gazes held until the trail wound them into the trees and out of sight.
21
His hand burned from touching her. His heart burned from letting her go. He was fixed to the same spot until she faded into the woods.
Then Dave remembered Mitch and was running by the time he slammed back into the cabin.
Ma was in Mitch’s bedroom with cool cloths. “Let me do that, Ma. Why don’t you and Pa get out of here, too. You could go stay in that little shanty we built. You should—”
“Stop, Dave.” Ma was calm in times of trouble. Always the one who kept things steady. Right now, he saw near hysteria. And it was all the worse because she was trying so hard to fight it.
“Your pa and I wi
ll go nowhere, and that’s that. Don’t suggest it again. I asked you to take the girls then come back.”
“Alberto took them, no need for me to ride so far right now.”
Nodding, Ma said, “I wanted to ask Ilsa to stay. She’s a wise woman with good healing skills, and we could use her help. And Jo is a hard worker with a soothing way about her. But this is the Wardens’ fight. It twists like a knife to let you stay. But I can’t care for both your pa and Mitch alone. And they both need good care. This is our fight, and, win or lose, our cross to bear.”
Silent for a long moment, Dave battled the urge to beg Ma to leave and take Pa. If not for her sake, then for Pa’s, because he’d been brought so low. One more thing might be too much. Dave didn’t say it because it was a waste of both their time. Pa wasn’t up to leaving. Ma and Pa were here, and they were staying.
Finally, Dave spoke his worst fears out loud. “You really think it could be smallpox?” He’d heard the terrible stories of outbreaks that left a town with half their number dead, and those who survived maimed inside and out.
Ma’s jaw clenched. “Do you know Dottie McDaniels?”
“The blacksmith’s wife in Bucksnort?”
“Yes, that’s her,” Ma said.
Dave remembered how badly scarred she was. “She’s got terrible pockmarks all over her face and on her hands, every inch of her you can see.”
Nodding, Ma said, “She’s the only person I’ve ever talked to who’s survived smallpox. Honestly, she’s the only person I’ve ever talked to who knows much about it, beyond the awful things you hear.”
“I’ve never heard she had smallpox.”
“It killed her whole family back east. Her parents and five brothers and sisters. Dottie was sick for a long time, but she survived. With her family dead and gone, and being only ten years old, she ended up in an orphanage. A couple of years later she got sent west on an orphan train and ended up in a little town south of Laramie, Wyoming. She married and they came here. The little I know about smallpox I learned from her. She said the pox have a dimple in the center of them. She said to look for that dimple if I was ever worried about smallpox. And they come on fast once the fever starts, so we won’t have long to wonder.”
Aiming for Love Page 16