Nodding silently, Dave looked between the doors to Mitch’s and Pa’s rooms. “Do you want to pick one and care for him, or should we trade off?”
“For the next few days, I want you to take care of your pa.”
“Ma, I—”
She raised her hand so the flat palm faced him. “Stop. I’m your mother, and I’ve made this decision. I am trying to protect you, but there’s more. I’m trying to protect your father, too. If I go back and forth between him and Mitch, I’ll have a lot more chances to spread this to him.”
“Mitch did his shift tending Pa just before we ate supper.”
“I know,” Ma snapped. “But we don’t have to expose your pa over and over, do we? Now I want you to wash your hands in hot water and soap, then see to your father. There’s stew from last night. Warm some up and get some solid food into him if you can.”
Dave opened his arms, and Ma stepped back so fast she ran into the door to Mitch’s room. Quietly she said, “You’re a fine man, David. I’m so proud of the man you’ve grown up to be. And I need a hug right now almost as much as I need air to breathe. But we aren’t going to touch each other for a time. You set food out for me. Until I am sure of what we’re facing, you stay away from any spoon I eat off of, any glass I drink from, and any towel I touch. And that is even more so the rule about anything Mitch touches. In a few days, if Mitch is only going to be a little bit sick, I just might risk that hug.”
Pa called out for water. Mitch started coughing.
“I’d better get Pa a drink.”
Nodding, Ma said, “Consider Mitch’s room off-limits, and I don’t even want you washing his dishes. You keep things washed up that you and Pa touch, and Mitch and I will just go through the supply of things already clean for the next few days. By then we should know how much trouble we’ll face.”
Ma pointed to a small table near the front door. Mitch’s room was right to the side of it, so she could get it easily when needed. “Put a glass of water on that small table right there. I’ll use it then set it out for refills. When you pour water into it, don’t touch it.”
A shiver went down Dave’s spine. “I reckon the Nordegren women will consider Mitch bringing sickness here proof that all their fears are right. I reckon Ursula will blame Jo and Ilsa for putting them all in danger.”
“At least they’re locked together in the only shelter anywhere. They may be at odds, but they will have to work out their troubles. In the end, I expect they are all glad to be away from here, and somewhere they can remember they love each other and put aside their arguments.”
Jo dropped to the floor as a pan whistled over her head. Ursula reached for the next pot. This one full of boiling water and a good portion of their dinner.
“Not the potatoes.” Ilsa leapt at her older and much bigger sister. “You’ll waste perfectly good food. You know Grandma wouldn’t approve.”
“Grandma wouldn’t approve of Ursula burning me to death, either.” Jo was disgusted with Ursula and her rage. And she understood why Ilsa invoked waste and Grandma to calm Ursula down, but it was a little annoying that burning your sister wasn’t enough.
Leaping to her feet just as Ilsa wrested the pot away, Jo charged Ursula. “I am sick of you acting like this. You calm down right now, or I promise you, I will hog-tie you and stuff you under the table, and you’ll stay there until spring.”
Jo thought that was a lot nicer than boiling water in the face or kicking Ursula out in the snow to cool off. In fact, now that Jo thought of it, she said, “I’m going hunting.”
She poked her nose right up to Ursula’s and had to stand on her tiptoes to do it. “If you haven’t stopped acting like a madwoman by the time I get back, you’re going to sleep in a cave somewhere.”
Ursula glared, but she didn’t say anything more.
“An hour, Jo, no longer.” Ilsa set the pot back on the fire, then with deft, experienced moves, she loaded potatoes and a couple of pieces of fried quail onto a tin plate. “It’s a cold night out, and snow is coming. If you’re out later than that, I’ll have to come hunting you, and I don’t want to.”
She added biscuits to the plate and thrust it at Jo. “It’s dinnertime now, so take it with you or you’ll be starving to go with freezing.”
Jo took the plate gratefully. “An hour isn’t enough.”
“You’re on unfamiliar hunting ground, and the snow’s let up for now, but it could come back and cover your tracks. You could get lost out there.”
“Thanks, Ilsa. Don’t worry about me. You know a little cold doesn’t stop me. I’ll be back when you’re both asleep. If you come looking, then enjoy the nice cold walk, because I won’t be anywhere around.” Jo grabbed her winter wrap and her bow and quiver of arrows, and slammed out with her hot supper. She didn’t give Ilsa a chance to try and talk sense into her. She was in no mood for sense.
Once outside, she set her plate aside and took a few minutes to put her deerskin jacket on and pull on the leggings that kept her warm in weather far more bitter than this. She fastened a fur-lined hood over her head and pulled on buckskin gloves. Dressed like this, she could stay out all night—and had many times.
The snow had quit, but even with the sun up, the whole world was white land, trees, and sky. She got her quiver over her head and under her right arm. The arrows stuck up by her left shoulder so she could reach up with her left hand and snag arrows fast as lightning. Then her bow went next, over her head and under her right arm. The two straps crisscrossed right over her heart.
Once she was ready to go, she sat down on a tree stump out of the wind and ate her fill of the still-warm dinner. She let the chilly air cool her temper—it didn’t work all that well because she kept thinking that if Ursula would just calm down, she wouldn’t be eating out here in the cold.
Whether Jo was happy about it or not, she knew being riled up at her big sister didn’t solve a thing. Ursula needed help. Jo wasn’t sure how to give it, but something had to be done.
Warmly dressed, well armed, and with her belly full, she decided to let herself explore and forget the tension between her and her sister.
Looking around the valley, she considered all the new places there were to see, and that lifted her spirits and calmed her anger.
Cows grazed on the winter-cured grass that waved and danced in the breeze that hummed through the trees. The canyon walls must have blocked the wind and even calmed the snow, because it was nicer in here than it’d been on the ride up.
A spring calf butted another half-grown baby, and the two of them dodged and charged, then ran along side by side, kicking up the shallow layer of snow.
A stream tumbled and danced around rocks.
The valley wasn’t free of trees, but it was a nice open stretch with good grazing.
Where to go?
Then she remembered Mitch speaking of coming in through a high valley. She’d never come in this canyon before, let alone gone higher.
That made her pause. She’d had this thought before. She’d never come in here. But why? It niggled in her head, but she just wasn’t sure. Had Grandpa told her not to? That must be it. He must’ve wanted them to stay out so they wouldn’t find his cabin. But it was a faint, long-ago memory she couldn’t make come clear. She’d planned to ask Ursula if she remembered Grandpa saying anything about this valley, but finding a time to talk reasonably with Ursula wasn’t likely to come soon.
All Jo really knew was, coming in here had scared her. She’d’ve never done it if not for Dave’s hungry cows.
Well, she was here now, and according to Mitch there was more to discover. And a long hike suited her.
She set out in the dimming light. The days were short, and the sun was already low in the sky. Clouds hung overhead, and snow drifted down, whipped sideways now and then by a gust of wind. For all that, it was a beautiful day.
She could have galloped across this valley in only a few minutes. But she didn’t know how to saddle a horse, nor what to do with a
horse when she needed silence to hunt. So instead, she settled into her long strides. As she walked, her anger started to build again, and she knew that wily old enemy Satan was stirring up trouble in her heart. To push Old Scratch back, she ran. She couldn’t go as fast as the horse, but she was a lot less likely to fall to her death this way.
Trying to think, trying to calm her anger, she prayed and thought on Scripture. As she walked, she thought of the story of the “Prodigal Son” and began speaking it aloud, “‘And said he, a certain man had two sons: And the younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me.” And he divided unto them his living.’”
Jo stopped herself as she realized that she knew those words just as well as if the Bible were open before her. She really did have it all memorized.
She could “read” the Bible with no book at all.
Except it was hard to do it out of order. When she thought of the Bible it was either stories like the “Prodigal Son” that she knew so well, or she started at the beginning. “In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth.”
But they didn’t start at the beginning every night, of course. They worked their way through. She wondered if she even turned pages at the right time. How would she know?
Because she wanted to test herself, she began at the beginning and for a long time she “read” the book of Genesis while she ran for the high valley Mitch spoke of.
She spoke aloud for a time, then realized she could read just as well in silence, and she wouldn’t spook any animals.
It was still light when she reached the rock Mitch had ducked behind when Jimmy Joe went to shooting at him.
Now, on land she’d never trod, she had to pay attention. So, she quit “reading” the Bible and woke her senses up wide to the wilderness around her. There was a narrow trail that twisted through rocks so scattered, the trail so steep, it’d take a bold horse to get through it. But nimble Rocky Mountain elk would have no trouble. Maybe she really could go hunting, though that hadn’t been her true goal when she’d stormed out of the house.
She slowed, but kept pushing, climbing, skirting boulders. In sheltered places where the snow hadn’t covered the ground, she saw prints. They had to belong to Mitch, so now she was backtrailing him. She’d come the right way.
How was he? Her prayers started up again. For Mitch, for Quill, for all of them if they caught what Mitch had.
The trail widened, and Mitch’s boots had left a clear track. Jo saw elk prints, too. Plenty of them. Her heart sped up as she thought of what was ahead. Finding new hunting ground was one of her favorite things to do in the world.
She crested a peak, and the wind hit her so hard she stumbled to a stop. It made her turn back and look at the trail she’d climbed. She was amazed at how far she’d come, and how high she was.
The top of the world.
She caught her breath as she saw peaks in the distance, white capped and majestic. In the places where they were catching the light of the lowering sun, they were cast in the bright pink of a mountain rose.
It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The wind rustled past, but her coat had a hood, and the cold didn’t bother her overly. Despite the noise of the wind, or maybe because it was so much a part of this scene, she felt like the whole world spread out before her in silence.
A high scream brought her head up. She couldn’t believe there was anything higher than her, except the sunset and God in His heaven.
An eagle soared along the mountaintop where she stood. She thought of her Bible and the verse where God says He will raise you up on wings like eagles. She spread her arms wide and felt for a long precious moment like she was truly raised up by the hands of God.
As she stood above the landscape with only a bald eagle for company, it fit that she carried God’s Word in her head and in her heart. It was all of a piece.
Jo was moved by the power of this moment until she could barely breathe.
She stayed too long because it was impossible to give it up, but a sound other than the eagle broke into her thoughts.
A bull elk bugled. It was a sound she’d heard many times at sunrise and again at sunset. It was especially common now during mating season. The sound rose high, almost like a woman’s scream, but it echoed in a way no human voice ever did.
Borne on the wind, the sound bounced around her. A second elk cried out, then five. And all those sounds came from below.
She looked down from where she stood on Mitch’s path and saw what had to be the high valley he spoke of. But she could only see the upper part because it was a bowl filled with fog. It held a haunting beauty, the hidden elk, the bugle cries, the fog below, and eagles and mountain peaks above. Down in that fog, elks were claiming land and herds. Others were ready to fight to create their own family.
Jo drank it all in for a long moment, and as part of it, she prayed.
Her pleas silently echoed with the elk cries. Then, when she’d reached high for God and let Him draw near to her, she asked first for Mitch, asking desperately that he not have a deadly disease, next that she and her sisters would escape the sickness. It wasn’t even because she wanted to stay healthy. It was for Ursula because of the weight of all her fears. Then she thought of Dave. He’d kissed her. Her first kiss, and it was so sweet, so wonderful. She poured out her heart to God, the longing, the confusion, the reckless excitement of kissing Dave. When she’d wrung the joy and thrill out of her prayers, she thanked God for this moment of glory in the midst of trouble.
The elk bugle continued. Then somewhere far below her feet she heard the crash of antlers. A battle was in progress.
She touched her fingers to the spot on her chest where the straps from her quiver and bow crossed, then headed down. She was in no hurry to get home, and she wanted to be part of the beauty of a mountain valley full of fog and hidden beasts.
Listening carefully, watching every step, she still saw prints left by Mitch only a few days ago. This was a trail, worn down by centuries of critters claiming this valley. The fog swallowed her up. When she reached a level spot, she could see only a few feet ahead of her. She was no fool. A bull elk could be dangerous, and stepping into the middle of two bulls fighting was the act of a fool. She listened to the shrill music of their voices, the crashing of antlers, and she judged every step.
An elk bugled to her left, and the level spot, what she could see of it, spread out into grasslands. Cautious, she sidled right, away from the elk, until she realized she was on a new trail without Mitch’s footprints. She must have veered off from the trail he took.
She walked along slowly, listening as much as watching. Enjoying the night, enjoying the feeling of being swallowed up in this mystical, fog-shrouded world.
A solid object loomed just ahead. She swung her bow around and notched an arrow before she gave it any thought.
Then she braced herself for an elk to swing its antlers her way and charge.
22
Dave, I’m sorry, but I need you to help me get his fever down. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Dave knew his ma thought she was bringing him to death’s door.
“I can go, Dave.” Pa swung his feet over the side of the bed, sat up, and pitched face-first toward the floor.
“Stop it.” Dave caught his stubborn old pa and pushed him back in bed. And no one pushed Quillon Warden anywhere, so it spoke to how weak Pa still was.
“Let me go.” Pa struggled against the hand Dave held firmly on his shoulder. “Let me in there, and I’ll stay at Mitch’s side. No sense in you being exposed to this.”
“Pa, I’d let you go if you wouldn’t just make more work for Ma.” Dave kept his pa down and hated using his youthful strength and health against the finest man he’d ever known.
Ma was at the door. Tears coursed down her face, and Ma was a steady woman. She wasn’t given to tears and other female takings.
“I need his strength, Quill. I’m sorry.” Ma had sa
id that enough. “I need to bathe Mitch in cool water, and for that I need him rolled over, and he needs to sit up, all things I need Dave for.”
“I can do it alone, Ma,” Mitch called from his room. He was in the family fuss now.
Dave looked his pa in the eye. “Ma is trying to protect me and so are you, but I’ve been right next to Mitch ever since he came home. I’m exposed. Stop thinking you can prevent that.”
Pa stopped struggling, his expression a mix of fury and regret. Then he nodded. “I would fall on my face. I’m sorry for making this harder.”
“You’re healing, Quill,” Ma said. “The best thing you can do for us is to rest and drink water and pray like you’ve never prayed before. If you can get to your feet, maybe you can feed yourself. Maybe we can keep Dave away from you if he’s helping with Mitch. You know getting sick right now is the most dangerous thing that could happen to you.”
With a jerking nod of his chin, Pa said, “I can care for myself and leave food for you, even prepare some. I know how to make stew and biscuits.”
Ma wanted to go to him. It was written in her eyes. Then she stepped back and left. Dave followed her out and into Mitch’s room.
Mitch’s fever was high enough he lapsed into silence, with his eyes closed, in a way that wasn’t sleep, but not fully awake. He’d been getting hotter all day. Now the sun was setting, and a long, dangerous night spread out before them.
“Help me get his shirt off.” Ma unbuttoned the woolen long johns. Mitch had been sleeping in them when he fell ill.
Ma drew the edges of the woolen underwear aside and gasped. “His chest is covered in a rash.”
Dave felt his own chest itching, but he had been feeling like that all day, since he saw Mitch with spots all over. Dave had checked and found no rash, so it was likely all in his head.
“Isn’t there any other way to know how serious it is?” Dave asked. “We just have to wait and see?”
“We have to wait a few days to know for sure by seeing how the blisters form.” Ma wrung out a cloth in a basin of cool water and ran it over Mitch’s chest. “But he could be sick for a solid two weeks.”
Aiming for Love Page 17