by Linda Ford
Judith must have sensed his worry. “You don’t think it’s over?”
“There were ten of them. Why did they give up so easily?”
She shivered. “They’re waiting for dark.”
He regretted that she knew this was his worry. “We will be on guard. There are a lot more of us than them.” Which gave him even more concern. Why would they attack under those circumstances? The only answer did nothing to ease his tension. Because the only thing that made sense was they intended to drive the animals away and leave them stranded. The wagon train could stand off an attack for some time but they couldn’t last forever. They would run out of food. And the worst was he and Judith and little Anna were alone. How could they withstand an attack? The only way was to remain out of sight in the shelter of the trees.
“Has the coffee boiled?” he asked.
“It should be ready by now.” She went to fill his cup.
“No more fire.” He grabbed the shovel and covered the flames with dirt until they died.
Her eyes widened with realization of why he’d done it. Anna played nearby and she grabbed the child. “How are we going to hide?”
“I don’t know if they realized we were here.” Though if they’d been following the wagon train, and it seemed likely they had, they would have noticed that one wagon kept a distance and camped apart.
Judith jostled Anna to keep her quiet. “It’s six days. Can’t we join the others?”
“Buck said one more day. We have to be sure.” He touched Anna’s forehead. “No sign of anything with her. None with me. How about you?”
Judith cleared her throat.
His heart squeezed hard. “Do you have a sore throat?” If she got the diphtheria they wouldn’t be able to rejoin the wagon train but that was the least of his concerns. He did not want her to get sick. He did not want to lose her.
“I’m fine,” Judith said. She was sure they weren’t going to get sick. They should be allowed to join the others. They were easy prey out here by themselves. Last night had taught her just how frightening it was to be so vulnerable. What if something happened to Gil? Losing Frank had taught her how awful it felt to lose someone she cared about. She did not want to repeat the experience and add to the pain she already bore.
“I’m not staying at the wagon tonight,” she announced. “That will be the first thing they’d attack.”
“My thoughts exactly. We’ll eat and stay here until dark then we’ll hide away from the wagon. I’ll scout around to find a place, but I’ll be sure to make it look like I am only checking on things like I always do.” He squatted down by the now dead fire.
The last thing Judith cared about was supper, but thankfully some of the food she prepared was done and she served it to Gil and Anna.
“You must eat,” Gil said.
Rather than argue, she took a small portion. Gil held out his hand and the three of them formed a circle with joined hands as Gil prayed.
“Lord God, You see all. You see these raiders. Foil their plans. Protect us. Keep us from getting the diphtheria. Protect all our friends. Help the men find the animals. Thank You for always being our Guide and Defender. Thank you for the food. Amen.”
He released her hand and he and Anna began eating.
His prayer had comforted and given Judith courage and she slowly ate.
When he finished, he announced, “I’ll make sure everything is safe for the night.”
Did he speak for her benefit or did he think someone might be watching close enough to overhear them? She glanced over her shoulder, cold racing through her veins.
Gil brushed his hand across her shoulder as he passed. “Act casual,” he murmured.
Anna took a step after him but Judith caught her and distracted her by showing her how to bounce a spoon on the palm of her hand and Anna laughed and wanted to see it again.
Judith strained over the baby’s happy sounds for noises coming from the bushes. Gil had slipped away silently. Her heart pressed to her ribs and managed a sluggish beat. Without thinking her arms tightened around Anna until the baby squirmed.
How long had Gil been gone? It seemed an inordinately long time. She glanced over her shoulder toward the other wagons. What would they do if she ran into the sheltering circle to seek protection?
Judith sorely missed her friends and family but she could not put everyone at risk. Especially little Elena Rose. Her little niece was only two weeks old. Why she’d soon be three weeks old.
Family? That was what she had here. Gil thought it should be enough. She wished it could be. She knew he was right. The past had too great a hold on her, but she didn’t know any other way to ease that hold than confront Frank’s stepbrother. Why had he never told her the man’s name? Why hadn’t she thought to ask?
A rustling to her right sent her heart into a frenzied patter. What was wrong with her that she hadn’t even thought to get her club to defend herself and Anna?
She pushed to her feet and edged toward the wagon intending to belatedly arm herself.
Then Gil stepped from the shadows. He saw her. Read the fear in her face. “It’s just me.” He crossed to her side, took Anna in one arm and pulled Judith close with the other.
Judith struggled to fill her lungs past the tightness in her chest.
Gil rubbed her arm. “I saw no one out there. I heard the men still searching for the oxen and mules but they will soon have to abandon the task. With the cloud cover that’s moved in there won’t even be enough moonlight to see the ground before them.”
Judith’s lungs finally decided to work and she relaxed into Gil’s chest. He was right about the darkness. It felt heavy and threatening. “Did you find a place for the night?” she whispered.
“I did. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll put Anna to sleep in the wagon. You’ll join her. I’ll leave you for a bit until it would appear you have gone to sleep. During that time I will set out my bedroll so anyone listening will think I am about to bed down. You gather up what bedding you can carry. I’ll carry my bedroll and we’ll slip away.”
“May God keep us safe.”
“Amen. Let’s sit down. Try and appear normal.”
“It’s hard when I think those men might be lingering nearby, perhaps even close enough to hear us.”
“Let’s make sure they hear the right things. Why don’t you recite some of the verses you know?”
She chuckled to think evil men might be forced to listen to God’s Word and she recited the Twenty-third Psalm. By the time she finished, her fear had subsided. God would lead them and protect them. The One Hundred and Third Psalm was also reassuring and she quoted it from beginning to end.
They sat side by side, his arm about her and he tightened his grasp. “I like the thought that God forgives us, heals our diseases and redeems us from destruction.”
“Me, too.”
“Anna’s asleep.”
“I’ll put her to bed. I might as well go myself. It’s too dark to do anything else and morning comes early.” If anyone listened, they would hear ordinary night time talk.
Gil carried Anna to the back of the wagon and handed her up to Judith.
“Goodnight,” he said, squeezing her hand.
“Goodnight,” she answered. She settled Anna, wrapping her in a blanket. The other bedding she rolled together so it would be easy to carry. She found her club and put it with her bundle then sat to wait for Gil’s signal.
She listened to him moving quietly, but making enough noise that anyone who might be waiting for him to go to sleep would think he had stretched out under the wagon. The minutes ticked by. She strained to hear any sound. The nearby camp had fallen silent. Anna breathed heavily. A coyote called and was answered by a dozen others. Her nerves jangled.
The mules brayed and she jerked to her feet, putting herself between the back gate and Anna. No intruders would get to the baby without confronting Judith. She had tied the front so tightly that she’d hear anyone attempting to enter t
hat way. But if men came from both ends, how could she protect Anna? She moved closer to the baby intending to cover her with her body if necessary.
“Judith?” The whisper came from the back gate.
“Gil?”
“Are you ready? Hand me Anna.”
She lifted the well-wrapped baby to Gil, grabbed her bundle of bedding, took a good hold on her club and managed to silently climb down.
Gil had his arms full with Anna and his own bedding, but she clung to his elbow as he led her into the trees. He moved slowly, silently. She did her best to move silently as well but she lacked his expertise and there was an unmistakable sound of dry leaves brushing against her.
He stopped and pulled her forward. “Duck your head,” he whispered in her ear.
She did so and could barely make out a tiny hollow in the bushes.
He pushed in behind her. “Sit,” he whispered and she did so. “We’ll spend the night here.” His warm breath brushed her cheeks. “Get comfortable.”
The space was small allowing her to move her bundle only a few inches at a time but she managed to spread her blankets and lay on top of them, then pull them over her. As soon as she was done, Gil did the same. They lay side by side, crowded together in the tiny hollow, Anna pressed safely between them. Judith wrapped an arm about the baby. Gil covered them both with an arm.
Their heads almost touched and she whispered, “What were the mules fussing about?”
“They thought the coyotes were too close, but the noise came at the right time for us to escape.”
The air was cool and damp and the cold from the ground made its way through her covers but she wasn’t overly uncomfortable. In fact, it was almost cozy with Gil beside her, his arm warm and heavy around her.
She didn’t expect to sleep but must have drifted off because the next thing she knew Gil touched her cheek.
“Wake up. It’s time to go back to the wagon.” He waited until she was alert then slipped from his bed and rolled the blankets together. She did the same. He took Anna and they slipped toward their isolated camp. Dawn lightened the horizon.
Anna wakened as they reached the wagon and let out a wail. Her voice was hoarse and she sounded irritable.
“Take her.” Gil sounded concerned. He built a fire, with no apparent concern for being discovered.
Judith moved toward the warmth of the blaze. Anna fussed. She did not like having her sleep disturbed.
“Let me have a look at her.”
Judith wondered at the anxious way Gil spoke. He caught Anna’s chin and dipped his head to see her better. “Her nose is running.” He touched her forehead and slowly straightened to look sorrowfully into Judith’s eyes.
Judith blinked before the despair she saw in his gaze and then looked carefully at Anna.
She touched the baby’s forehead. It didn’t seem overly warm, but she had a runny nose and a hoarse throat. It couldn’t be. It simply could not be.
11
Gil held Judith and Anna a moment longer than went to tend the mules. Men from the main camp left in search of the missing stock. Without them the wagon train would not move. He watched them depart. He had never felt so helpless. He couldn’t join them in searching for the animals even though the isolation period was over because now Anna had a runny nose and they must start all over again.
He pushed his fist to his stomach, as if the action could undo the knot in there. Of course, it wasn’t being forced to stand by while others worked that bothered him. It was the helplessness he felt in face of Anna’s condition. He couldn’t do anything to prevent illness, to protect those he cared about, and to eventually make the home he wanted.
Buck rode toward Gil. Gil held up his hand to signal him to stop.
“You can rejoin us now,” Buck called.
“Anna has a runny nose.”
Buck sat back in his saddle. “Did she catch a chill?”
Air wheezed from Gil’s lungs. A chill. He’d never thought of the possibility. “How do we tell the difference?”
“We have no choice but to wait and see. Watch for swollen glands and drooling and then …” He didn’t finish. Gil knew someone with diphtheria stood a chance of being unable to breathe because of the membrane that grew over their throat.
“Soon enough you’ll know if it’s more than a cold.”
Gil nodded. Even Buck couldn’t bring himself to say the word aloud any more than Gil could. He silently thanked the man for that inability.
The women had gathered at the side of their wagons, watching and waiting. No doubt expecting Judith to rejoin them.
Buck rode toward them.
Gil watched their faces cloud with worry as Buck relayed the news. Having done so Buck rode on to help bring back the missing stock.
Judith joined him, Anna in her arms and stared across at her friends.
“We’ll be praying,” Donna Grace called.
“Please do,” Judith called back.
Gil put his arm about her and they watched the women return to their cook fires. Only then did they go to their own fire and sit down for breakfast.
Anna didn’t want to eat. She wanted to be held and Gil was only too happy to oblige. He ate his food with little enthusiasm and failed to find enjoyment in his coffee. He guessed Judith had a similar problem for she pushed her food around on her plate and seemed to have forgotten to drink from her cup.
The baby fell asleep in his arms. Every few minutes he checked her for any sign of fever. “She doesn’t feel warm.” He wondered if Judith had heard the symptoms Buck had mentioned or if she knew them without hearing them spoken but he wasn’t going to ask and give her any more reason to watch Anna as keenly as he was.
His stomach muscles clenched again just as they had earlier. How would he endure watching Anna grow more ill and—
He choked off the thoughts and finished his now-cold breakfast and downed his equally cold coffee.
Judith took care of the dishes. “How long will we be here?”
He understood she meant the delay and welcomed a reminder to think of something other than Anna’s illness. “Until the draft animals are found.”
“I might as well put the delay to good use.” She scurried about setting to stew the buffalo meat Buck had left for them.
Mary Mae called from the other wagons. “We’re going to the water to do some laundry.”
Judith watched them depart then turned away. “I suppose I shouldn’t think of washing anything until…”
Until they knew if Anna had a chill or diphtheria. They both looked at the baby. Gil had laid her on a bed of blankets close to the fire where she would be warm. Neither of them seemed inclined to go more than a few steps away from her.
Not that there was anything they could do to prevent the progression of the disease except pray. His silent prayer formed a litany in his brain. Please spare her, God. Please spare her.
Gil wished he could ride out and help with the livestock. He wished he could go fishing. Not that he could see himself able to leave Anna’s side, but waiting was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
The women returned with wet items that they draped over ropes strung from wagon to wagon. They paused to ask after Anna.
Gil and Judith had nothing to report. Anna had wakened once, fussed a little. Judith had given her a drink, and wiped her nose and then she’d gone back to sleep.
“She’s able to swallow,” Judith had whispered.
Gil had nodded, relieved. At least she wasn’t strangling.
The women returned to their chores. Judith came to his side and took his hand. “I wish to hear you pray.” Her eyes were wide, searching, wanting. “It encourages me.”
He took her hands. “Then by all means.” He closed his eyes and stood toe to toe with Judith. “God our Father, we are concerned for our little child. We don’t want to lose her nor do we want to have her suffer. Please, may whatever is making her like this be nothing more than a cold. Please, Father.”
&n
bsp; Judith squeezed his hands hard. “Please, God. We ask for her life. We ask that we might have the joy of seeing her grow into adulthood.”
Neither of them said Amen. He was the first to move and he simply pulled their joined hands to his chest and pressed his forehead to hers. He had found something with Judith and Anna that he had long sought after though he hadn’t known it was what he sought until now. If he lost Anna…. If Judith insisted on pursuing the man with no name….
Closing his eyes, he held her tightly. How long before they knew Anna’s future?
Lowing of oxen and braying of mules informed them the animals had been found. Their own mules brayed a response which wakened Anna and she cried, her voice hoarse.
Judith offered her a drink. She took a little then fussed and pushed the cup away.
Judith handed her a biscuit. Anna took one bite then wailed.
Gil went to the baby and picked her up. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and then pulled them out, hung her head and cried.
“Poor baby,” he crooned. “You’re miserable and don’t understand why. I wish you could tell us what’s wrong.”
Judith pressed to his shoulder and stroked Anna’s head. “If only we knew.”
“We have to wait and see.” He tried to sound comforting but wondered how well he succeeded. Judith brushed the back of her hand over Anna’s cheeks.
“At least she hasn’t gotten worse. That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“I want to hope so.” He knew it sometimes took days for the disease to reach its peak. He had never seen anyone strangled by the membrane that grew in the back of the throat but, like most people, had heard the horrible tales.
The animals were brought to the circled wagons.
Gil expected they would now depart but instead, the men milled about. He handed Anna to Judith and stepped away, hoping someone would inform him what was going on.