Mrs. DuBois’s striker answered the door and ushered them into the parlor. Most of the officers employed “strikers,” an enlisted man who worked for them as a servant on their off-duty hours for a small compensation. Emmie had asked why Rand hadn’t done the same instead of taking in a homeless waif like her. It was probably more expensive to pay for her expenses than to employ a striker. But Sarah had told her that Rand thought Sarah needed the company more than the physical help.
Jessica, sitting alone and staring out the window, looked up as they entered the room. Her eyes, swollen from crying, narrowed as she saw Emmie. “What do you want?” she burst out. “Did you come here to gloat? You have everything you want.”
Emmie flinched. “We just want you to know how sorry we are about your father. I would like to be your friend, Jessica. Not your enemy. I never meant to hurt you.”
Her face flushing with rage, Jessica rose and advanced toward them. “Get out!” she hissed. “I don’t want your condolences and I certainly don’t need your friendship.”
Emmie swallowed hard and put out a trembling hand to Jessica. “I’ve been praying for you, Jessica. I don’t know what hurt drives you so, but God does. And He can heal your pain, if you let Him.”
Jessica’s eyes filled with tears, but then her face hardened and she flushed a deeper red. “Get out!” She advanced toward them. “Get out, get out, get out!” She screamed the words at them. “I don’t need your pity!”
Emmie and Sarah backed away hastily. “We truly are sorry,” Sarah said as they slipped back out through the door. “We really didn’t come just to be polite.”
As the door shut in their faces, Emmie and Sarah looked at each other. Sarah was pale, Emmie noticed, and she was sure she looked just as ravaged as her friend did.
“You know, I think you have a lot of insight,” Sarah said a few minutes later as they had a cup of tea back in their own kitchen. “I never really thought about why Jessica is like she is. There must be some hidden pain in her life that has shaped her. We really should pray for her. God could heal her.”
They knelt beside their chairs and asked God to send peace and a sense of His love to Jessica. Instead of anger, they both felt a sense of compassion for Jessica DuBois. God alone knew what she needed to be whole.
The next day Emmie spent most of the morning making pies and bread. She tried a recipe of Mrs. Horton’s for mincemeat pie and decided to take a piece to Amelia. Morning Song was at the Indian encampment, so Sarah decided to accompany her.
The women bundled up in warm cloaks and hurried toward Amelia’s quarters. The weather had been frigid and the wind snatched their breath away as soon as they stepped outside. As they approached Jake and Amelia’s small cabin, they heard the baby’s wail. The infant sounded frantic, and Emmie hastened her steps. What could be wrong with little Gabrielle?
They didn’t bother to knock, but opened the door and hurried to the bedroom, where the baby lay shrieking in her bed. Amelia lay on the floor beside the bed, one arm reaching toward the cradle where her tiny daughter lay.
“Quick, help me get her back into bed,” Sarah said as she knelt beside their friend. She grasped Amelia’s shoulders and Emmie lifted her legs.
“She’s burning up!” Emmie said as she touched Amelia’s skin. The women managed to lift her into the bed. “You take care of the baby and I’ll fetch Dr. Horton.”
Sarah hurried to pick up the baby as Emmie flew out the door and across the parade ground. By the time she and the doctor returned, Sarah had managed to calm the baby with a cloth dipped in sugar water. The baby was sucking on it vigorously and making mewing sounds of contentment.
Dr. Horton frowned when he felt the heat radiating off Amelia’s body. He quickly put his stethoscope to her chest and listened intently. Amelia muttered incoherently and moved restlessly in the bed.
“What is it?” Sarah asked anxiously as the doctor put his instruments away.
“Pneumonia, I’m afraid,” Dr. Horton said. “Her condition is very grave. We must try to reduce the fever. You need to sponge her down with tepid water. She won’t like it, but it must be done.”
Emmie nodded. “I’ll do it while you take care of the baby,” she told Sarah. Sarah nodded. “When Morning Song gets back, we can send her to the sutler’s store for some tinned milk.”
Emmie warmed a pan of water to lukewarm and began to sponge Amelia’s body. Wring, wipe, wring, wipe. Over and over, Emmie wiped the damp cloth over Amelia’s body. After an hour, she felt as though her arms would fall off. But still Amelia drifted in and out of consciousness, calling for Jake and Baby Gabrielle. Morning Song and Sarah peeked in several times. Gabrielle was fretful, so finally Sarah asked Morning Song if she would mind acting as a wet nurse for the baby. After nursing the baby, Morning Song tucked her into her bed. The doctor checked back in also, but his expression grew more grave every time he saw Amelia’s unchanged condition.
Around noon, Morning Song slipped in behind Emmie. She had a cup of steaming liquid in her hands. “I wish to try some Sioux medicine. It is from the bark of a tree you call white oak.”
Emmie lifted Amelia’s head and shoulders onto her lap while Morning Song spooned the steaming liquid into her mouth. Some ran out the corners of her mouth, but she managed to swallow some. Emmie wiped Amelia’s mouth and eased her back against the pillows.
“I wish Jake would get back,” Sarah said as the afternoon wore on. “I’m so afraid.”
Amelia moaned and both women knelt beside her bed. She opened her eyes and Emmie noticed how bright and blue they looked against the pure white of her face. Those blue eyes shone with love and a strange joy. Emmie swallowed hard and fought a rising sense of panic as Amelia smiled at someone just past Emmie’s shoulder. Emmie almost turned around to look, but she knew there was no one there.
“Tell Jake I’ll be waiting for him,” Amelia whispered. “I’m sorry I have to leave him alone.”
“No, no,” Sarah said. “Don’t talk like that. Jake will be here soon and you’ll be fine.”
Amelia shook her head. “You must be strong, Sarah,” she whispered. “Help Jake all you can and tell him I love him.” She coughed violently, then lay gasping for air. She looked again at a spot just to the side of Emmie, stretched out her arms, and closed her eyes. She gave one last little sigh, a strange little hiccup, and her chest grew still. Baby Gabrielle wailed suddenly as though she somehow knew her mother was gone.
“No!” Sarah wailed. She tried to pull Amelia to a sitting position, but she was limp and unresponsive.
Emmie took Sarah by the shoulders and pulled her close. She swallowed hard past the tears burning in her throat. How could this be? She leaned her forehead against Sarah’s head and closed her eyes as Sarah cried out in sudden comprehension of the loss of her best friend. Morning Song hurried to tend to the crying baby. Emmie heard her clucking noises of comfort through the dull veil of grief that squeezed her heart. “She’s gone,” she whispered against Sarah’s hair. “But we know she’s with Jesus.”
“She can’t be dead,” Sarah said numbly. “She can’t be. We’ve always been there for each other. This can’t be true. Call the doctor.” But the words were said without any real conviction. They clung together for several unbelieving minutes.
“We must pray,” Emmie choked out. They both turned toward the bed. Emmie picked up Amelia’s still hand and laid her lips against it. Sarah laid one hand on her friend’s brow for the last time. “Oh Father, we hardly know what to pray because of the grief that overwhelms us. We pray for strength to see all of us through the coming days and nights. We ask especially for Your guiding hands to lead us through this valley of death. Jake and little Gabrielle are going to need Your love and mercy in these dark days even more than we do. We know that our sister is in Your presence and we thank You for that. Let us sense Your loving arms as well.”
They stayed in the same position for a few moments. Emmie felt a warmth steal through her limbs and a strange com
fort enveloped her. She felt as though God was right beside her in a real and physical way. She could almost sense His touch on her shoulder. She looked at Sarah’s white face and held out her hand.
Sarah shook her head. “I want to stay here for just a few minutes,” she said with a pleading look. “I just want to remember the good times we had when we were growing up.” Her words were choked with tears. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.” Emmie touched her gently on the shoulder, then left her alone with Amelia.
Morning Song was in the kitchen with little Gabrielle. Emmie put water on to boil for some tea, then sat wearily beside Morning Song. Young John played happily on the floor with some wooden blocks. “I don’t know how to tell Jake,” Emmie whispered.
Jake. Emmie could only imagine the pain he would feel. And he had a new baby to care for. Of course they would all help, but it was still a huge responsibility to raise a child alone. Emmie gulped as she thought about the situation. Her promise to Amelia. She’d promised Amelia she would marry Jake and care for Gabrielle if anything happened. Surely Amelia wouldn’t expect me to keep a promise like that now that I’ve found Isaac, she told herself. She bit her lip and blinked back more tears. Just when life had seemed so perfect, everything fell apart. How could any of them even look forward to the wedding when Amelia was gone?
The day dragged by somehow. Morning Song took the children home to Sarah’s, while Sarah and Emmie washed Amelia’s cold, still body and dressed her in her favorite Sunday dress, the violet one that deepened the color of her eyes. Emmie couldn’t bear the thought of those extraordinary eyes never widening in wonder again. Sarah combed and dressed her friend’s long dark hair one last time as her tears gently bathed Amelia’s white but still beautiful face. As the sad news traveled around the post, several ladies dropped by with whispers of condolences and offerings of food.
The bugle finally sounded the men’s return to the fort, but it was nearly an hour before they heard the heavy tread of the men on the front porch. Isaac and Rand each held Jake’s arms as they practically carried him through the door. His face was slack and glazed with disbelief and an overwhelming grief. All three men bore signs of the tears they’d shed. Isaac’s eyes were full of sorrow as they met Emmie’s, and he opened his arms to her. Sarah uttered a tiny cry and flew into Rand’s arms and they all wept together as Jake stumbled toward the room where his wife lay.
Moments later, they heard his harsh sobs as he sank to the floor beside Amelia. Emmie’s eyes filled with tears again. Isaac pulled her closer and rested his chin on the top of her head as she sobbed against his chest. His shirt smelled of cold air and the warm musk of his male scent. She felt loved and comforted in the circle of his arms with his breath warm on her face. But the grief and aloneness poor Jake must be feeling!
After a little while, the four of them tiptoed into the bedroom to be with Jake. His sobs had stilled, but his fingers still traced the contours of Amelia’s face. Rand put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I never got to say good-bye,” Jake choked. “How could she leave without saying good-bye?”
Sarah knelt beside him. “Her last words were for you. She said, ‘Tell Jake I’ll be waiting for him. Tell him I love him.’ ”
Jake groaned and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his grief. After a few moments, he lifted his head. “Where’s the baby? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine,” Emmie said. “Morning Song took her to our house along with John and Joel.”
“I want her. She’s all I have left of Amelia now.”
“I’ll go get her,” Emmie said.
“The wind is terrible. Let me go,” Isaac said.
Emmie shook her head. “I want to. I’ll be fine.” She hurriedly wrapped her cloak about her and stepped out into the wind-whipped snow. She was numb from the emotions of the day as she hurried across the parade ground. The wind stung her cheeks and the prickle of feeling brought a new wave of grief. How would they all bear this?
Morning Song looked up as Emmie stumbled into the parlor. Little Gabrielle and John slept contentedly on the cot. Joel dozed with his head against Morning Song’s knee. Emmie looked at the baby, sleeping so peacefully. Her heart clenched with love for the motherless mite. Amelia would have been such a wonderful mother. Now little Gabrielle would never know the lovely person who had given her birth. Tears stung her eyes as the baby stirred and opened blue eyes so very like her mother’s.
“Jake is back and wants to see the baby,” Emmie said.
She knelt beside the cot and gently bundled the blankets around the baby. She lifted the baby into her arms and looked at Morning Song for a moment. “He’s taking it very hard.”
Morning Song nodded. “I knew it would be so. When one is cut, the other bleeds. I should come, too?”
Emmie shook her head. “You stay with the boys. There’s no sense in making them come out in this cold. When we get back, maybe you could go over and feed her.”
“I come.”
There was a thread of emotion Emmie didn’t recognize in Morning Song’s voice. The Indian woman was so stoical most of the time. It was hard to guess what she felt and how strongly Amelia’s death was affecting her. With a last glance at her friend, she pulled the blanket over Gabrielle’s face and tucked her under her cloak for added warmth. The wind caught the door out of her fingers, but Morning Song was behind her to grab it and pull it shut.
Jake was waiting at the door when she stomped the snow off her feet on the porch. He took the bundled baby out of her arms as soon as she extricated her from under the cloak. With tender hands, he pulled back the blankets and gazed into his daughter’s tiny face. She yawned and opened her blue eyes.
“You look so much like your mama,” Jake whispered. “Thank God.” He pulled her close, then went to the bedroom and shut the door.
Emmie sank wearily onto the cot in the parlor. Isaac put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.
“We’ll get through this. God is here and in control.”
Emmie nodded. She knew that it was so. But why would God allow such sorrow to come to them? She didn’t know if she would ever understand.
eleven
The next few days sped by as the entire fort rallied around the Campbell family. Ladies brought in mountains of food and the men stood around ill at ease but unwilling to leave. The grave site had to be prepared, no easy task in the hard, frozen soil.
The day of the funeral dawned clear and cold. December twentieth, just five days before Christmas. The wind wasn’t as fierce as usual, which was a mercy from God, Sarah told Emmie. Jake was insistent that the baby be at the service, although she was much too tiny to be out in the weather. Emmie bundled her carefully, then followed Sarah and Rand to the little chapel. Isaac was waiting for her outside the door.
“I’ve been praying for you all morning,” he whispered as he opened the door for her. “For all of you.” He squeezed her hand gently.
Emmie nodded gratefully. “We’re going to need God’s grace today,” she said. “Rand was at Jake’s all night. Morning Song, too. She insisted she should be the one to go, since she is feeding the baby. Poor little John looks so bewildered. He doesn’t understand what his mama is doing with that other baby all the time.”
She eased onto the bench beside Sarah and Rand. Jake sat on the other side of his brother. He stared down at his hands with such a look of suffering on his face that Emmie’s eyes filled with fresh tears. She ached to comfort his grief somehow, but she knew only God could give him the peace he needed. She offered a quick prayer for the minister as he made his way to the pulpit. Give him the words that will comfort Jake, she prayed. Isaac held her hand and the warm press of his fingers gave her strength.
Reverend Howard cleared his throat nervously as he glanced around at the packed building. The entire garrison had turned out to see Amelia put to rest. “Today is a day of mourning for us gathered here to pay our final respects to Amelia
Campbell.” He leaned forward slightly over the pulpit. “But I say to all of you that it is a day of great rejoicing as well.”
Jake glanced up sharply with a frown.
“No one could speak with Amelia for long without knowing about the great love she held for her Savior. If she could speak to us today, she would tell us not to mourn but to rejoice with her that she now sees her Jesus face to face.” He opened his Bible. “I want to read a passage that meant a great deal to me when my own beloved mother passed away. Listen to Psalm Fifteen and see if you agree with me that this so perfectly describes the Amelia Campbell we all knew and loved. ‘Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? Who shall dwell in thy holy hill? He that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart. He that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour. In whose eyes a vile person is condemned; but he honoureth them that fear the Lord. He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not. He that putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh reward against the innocent. He that doeth these things shall never be moved.’ In Psalm 116:15 we are told, ‘Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.’ This is not a punishment from God but a reward for our dear sister.” He shut his Bible and looked out over the crowd. “Some of you may wish to tell about how Amelia demonstrated her love for her God in your own lives.”
He sat down and the chapel was silent, then one by one people stood and told of kindnesses that Amelia had done. Tears rained down Emmie’s cheeks as she listened to the outpouring of love. Jake sobbed audibly when one soldier told how he had popped a button on his coat while carrying in a load of wood for Amelia, and she insisted on sewing it back on and then given him some tea and buttered bread.
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