Her braids swinging loose about her shoulders, Kristen bent down to rub the top of Ginger’s head. Ginger meowed and swatted her hand.
“Oh, all right. I’ll get you some cream. I’ll bet that’s why you came home, eh?”
Kristen went inside, spread the cloth on the table, and returned with a saucer filled with cream. As Ginger lapped the thick cream, Kristen squatted next to him and gave him a good scratching around his ears and along his back.
The cat arched his back and stretched, purring and pushing against her fingers, and he leaned, replete, on her legs, to enjoy her affectionate rubbing.
Then, with another swish of his tail against her legs, he leapt away and set off toward the barn.
“Amalie,” Karl’s voice carried concern. “I have found a flea in our bed.” He had just cleaned up after morning chores and come downstairs for breakfast. The family was gathered at the table for the meal. He held the offending insect between his fingers.
Amalie paled. “No! Let me see.” She examined the squished bug and breathed, “Ja, it is a flea.”
Elli and Jan looked at each other. “I know I didn’t bring any home with me. Fraulein Engel scrubbed me raw out in the yard before I left.” Nevertheless, Elli’s heart began to race.
After a hasty meal no one could enjoy, Elli took Kristen into her and Jan’s bedroom while Amalie kept Sigrün and her little boys in the kitchen. One-by-one, Amalie and Sigrün stripped and examined the boys for flea bites. Jan, Karl, and Søren were in the living room checking themselves.
Elli found five small red bites on Kristen’s legs. She stared at her daughter. “You did not feel them? They didn’t itch?”
“I did not notice them, Mamma,” Kristen replied. Her eyes were wide. Yet clearly she had scratched them. The red streaks across the bites attested to it.
Elli reported her findings to Amalie. Amalie swallowed and stared at her daughter: Sigrün and Kristen shared a bed.
She and Elli sent the boys into the living room and had Sigrün take off her clothes. The women did not find any telling bites. Until. Until Sigrün absent-mindedly scratched her neck, near her hairline.
Elli saw her scratching and pulled her fingers away. “Amalie, look here.” They stared at two red spots, one starting to form a welt from the scratching.
“Don’t scratch it, Sigrün,” Elli breathed. Her heart was pounding. Scratching spreads the sickness!
The rest of the day was spent in a furor of cleaning. They found evidence of fleas only in the girls’ and Karl and Amalie’s room, which was next to the girls’ room. Nevertheless, the women and girls stripped every bed in the house and washed all the bedding in boiling water. They swept and dusted every room and shook out and inspected all their clothing.
Jan and Karl, armed with strong soap and flea powder, took the boys to the barn to bathe them and wash their hair. Jan and Karl, the sights and smells of death by typhus too recently in their nostrils, scrubbed the scalps of the young ones until they howled.
The women and girls bathed in the kitchen. Elli showed Amalie how Fraulein Engel washed her hair and then combed it and checked for fleas or their larvae. Every piece of clean clothing donned after bathing was scrupulously examined first.
Now that she had seen the bites on her legs, Kristen was overwhelmed with the urge to scratch them. Elli stuck small plasters over Kristen and Sigrün’s bites to discourage them from scratching.
After the day’s regular chores were done, the family came together, exhausted, for a late supper. When the meal was over, the adults left Kristen and Sigrün to clean up and sent Søren and the younger boys upstairs while they adjourned to the living room to talk privately.
“I found bites on my legs,” Karl confessed to an already anxious Amalie.
As Elli’s eyes asked the question of her husband, Jan shook his head. “Nei. I found no bites on myself nor did we find any on Søren or the little boys.”
Three of them had bites: Karl, Kristen, and Sigrün.
Jan paused and then added quietly. “Today we also found Ginger in the barn.”
“Ginger!” Amalie’s voice was alarmed.
“He must have found his way home from the Beckers’. When we saw him today he was sick and could hardly move. We put him down and buried him quickly. I am afraid we must do the same with all the cats.” Jan’s voice was grim.
“I don’t understand!” Amalie cried. “Ach! Perhaps the fleas we found are just normal fleas, eh? And why should we think all the cats are sick? Perhaps Ginger just ate something that made him sick?”
Elli shook her head, worry creasing her brow. “Maybe so, maybe so, eh? But Maria Becker told Fraulein Engel that a traveler came by about six weeks ago asking for shelter. They fed him and he slept three nights in the barn before moving on.”
Elli’s voice shook. “Fraulein Engel questioned Maria about the man. She said the man had a dog with him—a sick dog. Maria remembered that the stranger said he and his dog had traveled the world together. He spent six months working on a steamer before landing in Houston and making his way north on the trains to see the plains and the mountains of America.
“The man loved his dog very much. But before the man went on his way, his dog died,” she finished.
They were still as they mulled Elli’s information. Then Amalie whispered, “The dog. The dog had fleas. And the fleas carried the sickness?”
Jan looked at each of them in turn. “Some of the dog’s infected fleas may have gotten on the mice in the Beckers’ barn,” he muttered. “I found evidence of mice in the Beckers’ grain bin. That is why I took Ginger to the Beckers’—to rid the barn of the mice.”
“And . . . and then she came home last week . . . sick . . . and with fleas?”
Jan nodded, his face grave. “You know Kristen has a way with our barn cats.”
Elli swayed and Jan wrapped his arms around her.
Sigrün knocked on her parents’ door in the middle of the night. Amalie groaned and rolled from the bed. She was five months gone in another pregnancy, already heavy and unwieldy, but used to being wakened in the night by one child or another.
She struggled to her feet and opened the door. “Ja, Sigrün? What is it?”
“Mamma, Kristen is crying. Should I wake Tante Elli?”
“Nei, nei. I will be right there.” Amalie threw on a wrapper and padded to the girls’ room. She bent over Kristen’s bed and felt her forehead.
“Burning up!” Amalie exclaimed, backing away.
Kristen stirred. “My head hurts,” she moaned.
“Go. Fetch your Tante Elli,” Amalie commanded Sigrün. “And bring a bowl of cold water and a clean cloth.” Sigrün left the room immediately.
A few moments later, Elli rushed up the stairs. Jan was not far behind her. By then Amalie had lit a candle but stood a few feet from Kristen’s bed.
Elli could feel the heat radiating from Kristen’s body before she touched her forehead. “Oh, dear Lord! Nei!”
Jan turned to Søren who was standing in the doorway behind him. “Søren, hitch the bays and fetch Fraulein Engel. Bring her as quickly as you can, Sønn.”
Søren looked into his father’s eyes. Jan saw his fear and gripped his shoulders tightly. “We will trust God, eh? We will not give into fear.”
Søren nodded and turned away.
Søren returned with Fraulein Engel two hours later.
Being age fourteen and having grown up in such a diverse community, Søren was now as comfortable in German, Swedish, and English as he was in his native tongue. So, during their drive to the Thoresen farm, Fraulein Engel had asked Søren many questions and, by the time they arrived, she was well acquainted with the situation.
When the good woman stepped into the kitchen, she found Little Karl, Arnie, and Kjell at the table eating bread and milk. Excited to see a stranger, Kjell banged his cup on the table, dashing milk on himself, the table, and the floor. Little Karl and Arnie stared at Fraulein Engel with solemn eyes.
“Sigrün’s sick,” Arnie pronounced, pointing. Their sister was huddled, shivering, in a chair near the stove.
Fraulein Engel placed her hand on Sigrün’s cheek and then forehead.
“Søren,” she directed, “I must get this one to bed also. Please have your father and uncle come downstairs.”
She was unpacking her medicines when Jan and Karl tromped down the stairs into the kitchen. Karl reached for Sigrün but Fraulein Engel waylaid him.
“You have flea bites, ja?”
Karl understood her. “Ja,” he replied slowly.
“How do you feel?” She touched his forehead.
“I feel fine,” Karl replied. He pulled back from Fraulein Engel’s hand, his manner a trifle testy.
“Gut,” she answered, but her eyes were worried. Then she began issuing orders that Søren translated.
“The girls’ room is now a sick room. Only Frau Elli and I will enter the room.” Karl and Jan looked at each other uneasily.
She demonstrated to Karl how to place a kerchief over his face, covering his nose and mouth, which he did. “Herr Thoresen,” pointing at Karl, “You will please to take your daughter upstairs and let Frau Elli put her to bed, ja? But then you and your good wife will come down to see me.”
Karl did not answer but he carefully scooped Sigrün into his arms.
“Pappa!” Sigrün whimpered. “You look funny!” Her head lolled against his chest. “My head hurts, Pappa.”
A few minutes later a worried Amalie returned with Karl and greeted Fraulein Engel. Fraulein Engel took Amalie’s hand in her own.
“Dear sister, I am sorry your child is ill. I am going upstairs to look at her, ja? You will stay here in the kitchen with the kinder. I will come back soon.” She pointed to the sink. “All of you please wash your hands with hot water and plenty of soap while I am gone.”
Amalie tried to protest, but Fraulein Engel shook her head and put a gentle hand on Amalie’s swollen belly. “Nein. Wash your hands and stay here. I will be back shortly.”
Amalie, Karl, Jan, and Søren looked at each other but no one spoke. Amalie washed her hands and arms and turned to clean up the table and her little boys. The men and Søren followed her example and washed up.
Søren shifted from foot to foot. “I should start the milking, ja, Pappa?”
Jan shook his head. “We will need you when Fraulein Engel comes down.”
Fraulein Engel kept her word and returned in a few minutes. “Please, shall we sit down?”
The adults found places at the table. Karl started to pull Kjell on to his lap, but Fraulein Engel put her hand on his arm.
“Kristen and Sigrün have the fever the Beckers had.” Her words were uttered softly. “They were bitten by fleas as you were, Herr Thoresen. Please do not touch the little ones, eh?”
Amalie made a strangled noise. “Karl is sick?”
“Not yet,” Fraulein Engel responded. “But he may be soon.” She leveled an earnest look at Amalie and Karl. “We do not want these little ones to sicken, do we? Or you, Frau Amalie. You have little ones to care for and a baby coming.”
She folded her hands on the table and spoke calmly. “Frau Amalie, I wish you to remove yourself from this house and take your kinder with you.”
Amalie was already shaking her head in protest. “Nei, nei. I will not leave my daughter or husband!”
Fraulein Engel looked at Jan. “You and Søren must go too. It is not too cold at night yet. Can you make a place in the barn for all of you?”
Jan ignored her question. “What about Elli? What about Kristen?”
“Frau Elli and I nursed all the Beckers. You know what we will need. You can help us as you did then. Karl can as well. But we cannot allow anyone else to become sick, can we?”
“But Kristen and Sigrün? Will they be all right?”
Fraulein Engel studied her folded hands. “God willing.”
Jan and Karl stared at each other. Finally Jan spoke. “We should send Amalie and the children to the soddy. It will be warmer. Karl, we can take the kitchen stove we rescued when your house burned and put it in there.”
Amalie glared at her brother-in-law with a rage he had rarely seen in her. Karl pulled her to him. “Please do not be angry with Jan, my love. Please do as we say, ja? I do not want you . . . or our sons to become ill.”
He did not need to say more. The death of four of the Beckers’ barn was all too real to Amalie. She crumpled against Karl sobbing.
Karl returned that afternoon from taking Amalie, the children, and a wagonload of bedding and supplies to the soddy. Jan and Søren cleared out Jan’s carpentry shop and made up beds for themselves. Karl, Fraulein Engel decided, could continue sleeping in his and Amalie’s bed. But he was no longer to have direct contact with those outside the house.
The three men said little as they went about their chores as usual. Karl walked to the soddy each day to bring fresh milk and speak to Amalie.
“Pappa!” Little Karl, Arnie, and Kjell rushed toward him when they saw him coming, but Amalie held them back, as instructed.
Three days later Karl complained of an unrelenting headache and began coughing. Fraulein Engel sent him to bed. The next morning she called Jan and Søren.
“Your brother is very ill, Herr Thoresen.”
Jan stared at this kindhearted woman, trying to understand what her eyes were telling him. “We will pray,” he replied with firmness.
“Ja,” was her answer.
She reported that Sigrün and Kristen were holding their own. She did not answer Jan when he asked if they were improving.
That morning it was Jan who walked to the soddy with the fresh milk. Amalie stared at Jan when she saw that he, not Karl had come.
“He is sick then?” Amalie whispered.
Jan turned his face away but nodded.
“And Sigrün? Kristen? Are they any better?”
“They are no worse,” was all Jan could tell her.
~~**~~
Chapter 22
The Thoresens’ neighbors received word of the sickness through Fraulein Engel’s brother, who spread the news to the German church. Many in their church had been the recipient of Elli’s care and compassion in the past year. Yet, as much as their friends wished to help them, they kept a strict distance from the Thoresen house and barn. The way in which the sickness—whatever it was—had decimated the Becker family was much too fresh in their minds.
Henrik and Abigael coordinated an influx of meals, leaving them near the pump each day where Jan or Søren would retrieve and distribute them. Amalie, too, cooked for them, but Jan would not allow her to bring food to them or to the house. Instead either he or Søren would fetch what she prepared.
Elli scarcely left the girls’ sickroom except to go to the kitchen when she needed something. Perhaps once a day she spoke to Jan from behind the screened and latched kitchen door.
Three days after Karl took to his bed, Jan saw Elli’s pronounced exhaustion . . . and her fear. “Jan, Sigrün may be slowly getting better, but . . . our datter is still the same.”
“And Jan,” Elli said carefully. “Jan, my love, I am not well.”
Ice swept down Jan’s back, numbing his fingers and his feet as he realized Elli’s eyes were glazed with fever. He stared through the door, Fraulein Engel’s prescribed barrier between them.
“How? I don’t understand! You had no flea bites!” Jan protested.
Elli shook her head once but the effort pained her. “I do not know.”
He could see how Elli longed for him to hold her, and Jan wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms about her and shut out the world. Jan slowly raised his hand and placed it on the screen. Elli lifted hers and placed it against his.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I will do anything to protect you and our family.”
Elli swayed on her feet and Fraulein Engel appeared behind her, steadying her. “You must go to bed now, Liebling.” Fraulein Engel shot Jan a look of compassion
and he stared dumbfounded as she ushered Elli away from the door.
But Jan could not bear it. He shook the door and, when the latch would not give, he wrenched it from the frame and threw it aside. He had made up his mind.
Elli and Fraulein Engel were not quite to the top of the stairs. He stood at the bottom and called after them, “I will help nurse Karl and the girls,” he shouted. “I will help nurse Elli.”
The two women turned. “Nei! Oh, nei, Jan!” Elli cried. “What if we both sicken? Our children would be left orphans! Think of our children, Jan, my love!”
Elli’s panic was as real as Fraulein Engel’s anger. The German woman sat Elli on the top step and strode down the stairs, her expression ferocious. She shoved Jan into the kitchen and toward the door, all the while shouting at him in German.
Jan did not understand her words but would never lift a hand to her, so he folded his arms and resolutely stood still. She could not move him.
“Pappa!”
Jan turned. Søren was standing in the doorway, his face a mask of fear. “Is Mamma sick? Is she? Fraulein Engel is saying you and Mamma could both die! Pappa!”
Fraulein Engel continued to shout and push him toward the door. Jan looked at Søren’s face once more then held up his hands.
“Søren, tell Fraulein Engel I wish to say something to her,” Jan said quietly. Søren did as he asked and Fraulein Engel stopped shouting.
Jan faced the woman and studied her tired, worn face—this fine, godly woman, who had given so much of herself for so many. “Søren,” Jan said again. “Please tell Fraulein Engel that I have made up my mind. She must accept my decision. I will help her with the sick ones.”
He turned to Søren as he spoke those words. “And I am sorry, my sønn, but your mamma and your søster need me. You, too, must accept this.”
He gestured. “Stay out of the house. Go tell Henrik what is happening; he will help you with the chores. And tell your tante Amalie.”
A resigned Fraulein Engel had Jan place a kerchief over his nose and mouth and wash with soap and water. Together they put Elli to bed. Then Fraulein Engel took Jan to see Karl, Kristen, and Sigrün. That was when he saw how dire the situation was.
Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) Page 16