Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2)

by Sharlene MacLaren

  Rocky didn't know what to make of all Doc's talk. "You think it's bad, then?"

  "Describe your nephew's symptoms again," Doc said, pushing Rocky toward the door. Doc always had been good at skirting issues for which he had no answers.

  "He's very restless. Has a high fever and a bad cough. Sarah's trying to cool him off as we speak. Should we be worried, Doc?"

  They stepped out onto the wooden sidewalk. "It's a mighty frosty morning," Doc muttered, pulling his collar up. "I'll head over and see if Sam has my wagon ready. How about I meet you out at your place?"

  A bad case of nerves coupled with the brisk air made Rocky shiver. "Doc, you're not answering my questions."

  The older man tipped his face up toward the sky as if to study it for any incoming storms. "That's because I don't want to make any snap judgments, son. It's still early."

  "Well, what if it is this-this diphtheria-is it dangerous?"

  Doc shoved one hand through his gray hair and shrugged. "Could be. All depends on a variety of things."

  "Such as?"

  Doc heaved a sigh. "How advanced the cough is, whether there's wheezing or blood in the mucus.. .how high the body temperature is, things of that nature."

  Doc started walking, so Rocky tagged along, determined to get answers before heading for his place. "What if Seth has all the worst symptoms? Can he-could he...?"

  Doc trudged on, looking straight ahead. "Try not to think the worst, son."

  Perhaps it was an overreaction, but Rocky took the doctor by the arm, forcing him to stop midstride. "Doc, I lost Hester to smallpox three years ago and Joseph to something nameless just months ago. Don't tell me not to think the worst."

  Understanding seemed to have lit in Doc's eyes. "I know that, son, and I can appreciate your concern." He put his hand on Rocky's arm. "But for now, let's try not to jump to any conclusions. Give me a chance to examine your boy. Maybe it's just a bad cold."

  "I can't lose Seth. I haven't had the chance to..." But he left the sentence dangling, unsure where he was even heading with it.

  Just days ago, he'd fought for Rachel's life; now it seemed that Seth's might be hanging in the balance. He'd barely taken the time to get to know his niece and nephew; he had been more concerned with time constraints, workload, and keeping a safe distance for the sake of his own heart. Now regrets bombarded him from every direction. Dear God, he prayed from his very depths, please don't let anything happen to that boy.

  Rocky pulled into the farm a few minutes ahead of Doc. After he saw to his and Doc's horses, they walked to the house, Doc quiet, Rocky's stomach a bundle of nerves.

  Sarah met them at the door, her eyes pools of concern as she looked from Rocky to Doc Randolph. Rachel was hugging Sarah's side, looking equally troubled.

  "How is he?" Rocky asked.

  She shook her head. "He doesn't seem to be responding to the cool baths. I'm worried."

  Doc moved past them and straight into Seth's room, Rocky, Sarah, and Rachel on his tail. Ironic how not even a year had passed since the doc had seen to Joseph and been forced to admit he couldn't help the child, his fever having drained him of life before its source could even be determined. Now Doc's concerns were for a different little boy. Rocky fretted history was repeating itself.

  Doc bent over Seth to lift each eyelid. The poor boy lay limp and nonresistant, seemingly drained, his eyes open but lifeless, the fever taking its toll. Silently Doc went for his black bag and retrieved his stethoscope and various of other supplies. He worked quietly, probing various areas of the boy's body, assessing his heart rate and temperature, then looking in Seth's ears and down his throat with a long, thin object.

  "What is it, Doc?" Rocky asked when the man finally stood to face them. Sarah squeezed his hand hard. He found himself squeezing back, drawing strength from her viselike grip.

  Doc's calm eyes gave way to wariness. "I can't be 100 percent certain," he muttered in low tones, "but I'm fairly sure it's diphtheria."

  Sarah gasped. "I had that as a child!" she quickly reassured Rocky. "It wasn't pleasant, but as you can see, I'm fine. I had a terrible sore throat, though, and they quarantined me for several days."

  Doc raised thick, gray brows. "You've built a natural immunity to the disease, then-and before they'd even developed the antitoxin. That's good news."

  Sarah bent over Seth and touched his forehead. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You're going to be just fine." Seth managed a weak nod of the head.

  "Will he, Doc?" Rocky asked, keeping his voice low.

  Doc led Rocky out of the room and away from inquisitive ears. Thankfully Rachel didn't follow.

  "Have any coffee on that stove?" he asked.

  Rocky walked to the stove where Sarah had prepared a fresh pot. He grabbed a couple of tin mugs from behind the curtain and filled both with the steaming brew.

  After Doc took a couple of sips, he said, "There was an antitoxin developed for diphtheria a few years back. I'm betting that Lexington has some on hand. I'll need to put in a call as soon as I get back to town."

  "Do you want me to go fetch it for you?"

  "You're not strong enough yet, Rocky. I'll find some other able-bodied man."

  Rather than argue, Rocky asked, "How long before Seth starts feeling better?"

  Doc clutched the mug between his hands. "Unfortunately, the antitoxin will not neutralize the disease that's already in his body, but it will serve to prevent it from progressing. Only time will tell, I'm afraid."

  "So you're saying Seth's ailment has already reached a dangerous stage?"

  Doc took a swig of coffee, then studied the ceiling before speaking. "Seth's throat and neck are alarmingly swollen, which could impair his airwaves. And I saw some evidence of bleeding in the back of his throat. He wasn't tracking very well with his eyes, either, probably due to double vision. That, coupled with his high temperature and lethargic behavior, has me worried. I'm afraid we're going to have to keep a very close watch on him. It could be touch and go for a while."

  He cast a wary glance in the direction of Seth's bedroom. "There's a chance the little girl could contract the disease as well. Best to keep her away from her brother. In fact, it'd be a good idea for both you and Rachel to go to your parents' house. Since Sarah had it as a child, she's safe. But you and Rachel..."

  "I'll take Rachel to my folks' house, but I'm staying here."

  Doc nodded, apparently realizing the futility in arguing. "I'll start Rachel on the antitoxin as soon as it comes in. The truth is, if she isn't sick yet, she'll probably be fine, but it doesn't hurt to take precautions." Doc put down the mug of coffee. "I best be on my way. I'll come back with the antitoxin just as soon as I have it in my possession. I haven't checked on the others yet, but I'd say Seth is about as bad off as any I've seen. If many more come down with it, we may have to set up a hospital at my place. This disease usually requires weeks to play itself out."

  Rocky swallowed down a hard lump. "Seth has to get well, Doc."

  Doc studied Rocky with particular care. "It might not hurt to deliver up a prayer to the Almighty."

  Doc's suggestion set Rocky to thinking. Lately, he'd been giving more thought to prayer. Was Sarah right? Had God been trying to gain his attention? Worse, was He using Seth to get to Rocky? He couldn't bear the thought of Seth suffering on his account.

  "Thanks, Doc."

  Doc Randolph gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "You take care of yourself. I'll be back soon as I can."

  Moments later, Rocky heard Doc's horses gallop off the property.

  In the days that followed, Seth's condition remained unchanged, even though Doc had returned that same night to administer the antitoxin. Talk was that people all over the country, mostly children, had contracted the awful illness, leaving one child dead in a neighboring community. Sarah could only imagine the fear in homes around Little Hickman as news of the illness spread like wildfire. Since she and Rocky stayed confined to their cabin, their only means of attaining inf
ormation came from tidbits they acquired through Doc's daily visits. Last they'd heard, the Hogsworth twins were recovering nicely, as was Gus Humphrey. Lenora Humphrey, on the other hand, had grown more frail by the day. Sarah had been lifting up prayers daily for the girl, praying for her even as she held to Seth's small hand and prayed for him.

  Then there was baby Molly Broughton, so young to be so sick, and yet Doc said her little body seemed to be fighting the illness with a vengeance. Sarah could only pray that the rest of the Broughtons would remain healthy, particularly Liza, pregnant with her first child.

  From what she could gather, Doc was holding his own and managing to maintain his patient load, but she feared by the look of his haggard face today that he was pushing himself to exhaustion.

  "Do you think it's time for setting up a hospital, Doctor?" she asked after he had finished checking Seth's heart with his stethoscope and had tucked the instrument back into his front pocket.

  "I'm holding off as long as possible," he whispered, leading her away from Seth's bedside. "So far, the quarantine seems to be working. There've been no new reported cases in two days."

  Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good, right?"

  He gave a slow nod. "I'm cautiously hopeful."

  The two adults stood silent for a time, Sarah contemplative, Doc assuredly weary. "I could help you, you know. Since I had diphtheria as a child I'd be in no danger. You're looking mighty tired, Doc."

  Doc smiled, aged wrinkle lines etching themselves around his inky eyes. "I thank you for that, young lady, but you have your hands full. I've learned of a couple of others who also had the illness some years back. They've offered their services if needed. You have enough to do what with a sick child and a still rather slow-moving husband. How is Rocky doing since the fire?" Clear concern swept across Doc's face.

  Rocky and Sarah had been taking turns sitting with Seth, cooling his fevered brow with damp cloths, administering small sips of water for his parched throat, and comforting him with quiet words. Sarah marveled at how Rocky hovered over the listless boy, haunted no doubt by memories of having lost his little Joseph months before. Still, the truth was he was in no shape for sitting up with the lad hour after hour. Although his burns were healing, he still coughed frequently, a result, Doc said, of having inhaled a good deal of smoke and ash. Rest was essential to prevent any onset of pneumonia.

  "I convinced him to go lie down for a while," Sarah said. "He's exhausted from looking after the boy. We take turns, but it seems he can't relax. I'm sure he's reliving the events of the past."

  "Little Joseph, you mean."

  Sarah nodded. "He doesn't talk much about his son, but I'm certain he's afraid of losing Seth now," she whispered. Thankfully, Seth slept soundly. Rocky had managed to feed the boy nearly half a bowl of chicken soup, and so far, his stomach hadn't rejected it.

  Doc looked toward the bedroom where Rocky rested. "It was a sad thing, him losing his wife and then his boy. And now, on top of everything else, he's lost his barn. It doesn't seem quite fair, does it?"

  Sarah shook her head. "God never promised any of us that life would be fair, but He did promise to give us necessary strength for hard times. If only my husband could believe that."

  Doc cleared his throat. Sarah had no idea where the doctor stood with his faith, but she wasn't about to excuse her words.

  "I'm sure your example of trust will rub off on him." He glanced out the bedroom window. "How are you managing with all the chores? You must be exhausted yourself, young lady."

  "Me? Oh goodness, I'm fine." She was so tired her nerves throbbed, but Doc Randolph would be the last to find out. "I've learned how to milk the cows, a feat in itself. But Rocky has reclaimed many of the chores, even though I've told him I can handle things."

  Doc nodded, then followed the gesture with a quiet laugh. "Your man is a stubborn one. Be patient with him."

  Sarah winced at the term "your man." Aside from giving her hand an occasional squeeze or dropping a simple touch on her shoulder, Rocky hadn't approached her on a romantic level since the night of the fire when he'd kissed her so tenderly, and that was over two weeks ago. She wondered what it would take to break down the barrier that had once again risen up between them.

  "Thank you for your concern," Sarah said, deciding not to comment on her husband's stubbornness. Best not to burden the man further. "I certainly miss Rachel," she put in, following him when he headed for the door and removed his coat from its hook.

  "I'm convinced she's doing just fine in your in-laws' care."

  "I've no doubt about that. I just don't want her getting too comfortable over there. She belongs with us."

  Doc lifted one gray brow. "I wouldn't worry there. It's plain to see the child is completely taken with you."

  Sarah's heart warmed at his kind words. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed to hear them. "And I'm quite taken with her," she returned.

  After promising to pay another visit the next day, Doc bid her good-bye. Sarah watched him shuffle across the yard to his wagon, favoring one leg. Lord, go with him, she prayed, pulling back the curtain to watch him climb atop his buckboard. Give him strength to see to the needs of these sick children. And, Lord, would you please keep Rachel safe and bring swift healing to our dear, sweet Seth? Also, Father, please soften my husband's heart that he may see the purposes You have for him, and that he may know the greatness of Your unfailing love.

  The sound of Sarah's sweet voice wafting through the air beckoned Rocky awake. He opened heavy eyes and found himself staring at his bedroom ceiling-rather, his wife's bedroom ceiling. Whether they would ever share the room remained a mystery.

  He blinked back the urge to prolong his nap and wondered at the time. It appeared dusk had already set in by the look of the darkening sky. Sarah hummed the familiar old hymn "Amazing Grace" as she rattled pans in the kitchen sink. Some delicious aroma filtered through the crack under the door, making his stomach rumble in response, summoning him to further wakefulness.

  He yanked a single quilt off his body and pulled himself up, then ran his fingers through his mussed hair. He knew he looked a sight. He hadn't even shaved in days because the burns along his jawline had blistered and scabbed over, making shaving a problem. What must Sarah think of his unsightly appearance? He stood and worked the kinks out of his neck and back.

  When he opened the door, Sarah's body bent, as she stirred the fire, was the first thing he saw. She paused to pull a wispy red curl away from her face, then set to fueling the flame with another small log. He should be stirring the fire, he told himself, even though watching her now was altogether more pleasant. He took a moment to lean into the doorframe to steal a few more glances.

  She stood up and placed a hand to the small of her back, her face to the mantelpiece where she seemed to be studying a photograph of Hester holding Joseph in her arms. He wondered if she resented the picture. But when she removed it, dusted it with the hem of her skirt, then carefully replaced it, he had his answer. She was a special woman, his new wife, and the feelings mounting deep inside him appeared to be more than mere respect. He was falling in love with her.

  Yet how to tell her, or even if, remained a question. Nothing had been easy for her since the day she came to Little Hickman, and he wouldn't blame her a bit if she left tomorrow. With the palm of her hand, she massaged her back, and a kind of raw cocoon of guilt wrapped around him. She'd been working too hard since the fire and without a single complaint. Of course, who knew what rebellious thoughts stirred in her head? For all he knew she could be waiting for Seth's recovery before announcing her plans to leave.

  Lord, how will I live if she decides to go? Will Your strength be enough to sustain me? Please, Lord, help me find my way back to You; help me trust You again.

  And just like that, a newfound spiritual hunger swathed his soul.

  All at once, Sarah sensed his presence and looked over at him, her cheeks pink from hovering near the fire. "I hope I didn't
wake you."

  Rocky pushed away from the doorjamb. "It was time I got up. You shouldn't have let me sleep so long."

  "You needed your rest. You've been sitting up with Seth every night."

  "How is he?"

  Despite obvious fatigue, her mouth curved into an unconscious smile. "His fever broke just after Doc left today. I gave him some more soup just an hour ago. He says his throat isn't quite as sore, and the swelling in his neck has lessened. Isn't it wonderful? The Lord is answering our prayers, Rocky."

  "Is he sleeping now?" Rocky asked, the knot that had been lying in the pit of his stomach for days now seeming to unravel.

  She nodded. "He's been napping off and on most of the afternoon. I think my reading puts him to sleep."

  "It's not your reading, Sarah; it's your voice. It's soft and soothing to a body's ears." He advanced three long strides until he came close enough to take up a loose tendril of her hair. He tested its softness between his thumb and forefinger. If she did walk out on him, at least he would have this memory.

  He lifted her down-turned chin with a finger, and her hazel eyes went suddenly misty. Hastily she dabbed at the corners with the hem of her apron. Was she going to cry? Perplexed, he merely stared, tongue-tied. Nothing ever prepared him for a woman's tears. Hester had shed a few in the time he'd known her, and he'd always felt about as helpless as a cornered chicken.

  "Got some smoke in my eyes," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

  He looked at the fire. It spit and crackled, but there wasn't a trace of smoke anywhere. Cupping her chin with his rough palm, he bent slightly at the waist to see into her damp eyes. "Smoke, huh? Might it be more worry and stress and fatigue that's causing those tears than smoke, sweet wife? You've done nothing but play nursemaid to Seth and me, tend to the chores, cook all the meals, haul in wood, and on top of that, keep a clean house." He shook his head at her and clicked his tongue. "It's time you rested."

  "But I..."

  Something intense flared through his veins as he moved his hands up and down her arms, pulling her closer, inch by inch. The fight seemed to have gone out of her as she heaved a sigh and melted into his arms. When he felt a damp spot growing on his shoulder, and felt a tiny shudder, he knew with certainty she was crying.