by Carré White
“No.” He struggled to breathe, his chest rising and falling. “That’s enough now.”
“Couldn’t we—”
“No! I’m taking you back to the Chandlers. Then I’m gonna make sure Abner puts a lock around your ankle.”
He stalked from me, but I grasped his arm, my fingers curling around a firm-feeling muscle. “Wait.”
“I’d say you thanked me enough for one night, Paulina.”
“I…” Confusion reigned; my overwrought senses didn’t want the magic to end. “Just…a little more time—”
“You’re outta your depth, honey. It’s already gone far enough.”
“Can’t we be friends? Aren’t we friends?”
He turned towards me, advancing. “You got a lot to learn about men, sweetheart. You think that kiss was about friendship?” He looked incredulous. “That kiss was the precursor to all sorts of naughty things, if you know what I mean. The only thing I could think of was ripping that dress off you and having my way with you. Does that sound like somethin’ friends do to each other?”
“I was thinking that too,” I whispered.
His mouth fell open. “I’m gonna get a bottle of rot gut and pretend I didn’t here that. Blasted!” he muttered. He thrust fingers through his hair, leaving the strands standing upright.
“Why are you so angry?”
“Because you’re a lady! You’re not some harlot off the street! You’re lookin’ at me all doe-eyed and trusting. Stop that!”
“So, we’re not friends then?”
“Let’s keep it at acquaintances. It’s safer that way.”
“I…that’s unfortunate.”
“This conversation is over.” He began to walk away.
“I really liked kissing you.”
“Hobble your lip, woman! Not another word outta you.”
The disappointment I felt at being discarded in such a manner was acute. He sauntered away without looking back, and I wished he would return. I followed moments later, not seeing him, wondering where he had gone. It was imperative that I clear my mind before I joined the Chandlers, as I was in a state of confusion. I’d been rebuffed, but for what reason? The kiss had confirmed everything I had been feeling for weeks now; the attraction was mutual and it had grown as time wore on.
I rounded a wagon, hearing a series of curse words, and I knew exactly who had uttered them. “I can’t take it anymore, Tom! How am I going to ignore her now?”
Laughter filled the air. “What happened exactly?”
They weren’t able to see me, as I had hidden on the other side of the wagon, waiting breathlessly for more information.
“I kissed her.”
“It’s about time. Congratulations.”
“I never should’ve gone with her. I should’a stayed away. Far away.”
“Stop beatin’ yourself up, Sam. It was just a kiss. No harm done.”
“There was plenty of damage. Plenty.”
“Why don’t you marry her? We got ourselves a gospel sharp. He’d be happy to perform the service.”
“I’m in no position to take on a wife. I can barely manage myself.”
“A man’s priorities shift when he commits.”
“I’m beholden only to myself, and I like it that way.”
“That’s cause that’s the only thing you’ve ever known. I once had me a wife. She was the sweetest little thing. I’d have my fill of her at night, and then she’d make me peanut butter griddle cakes in the mornin’. Oh, yummy. With hot chocolate, no less. How I miss those griddle cakes.”
“I’m sorry you lost her, Tom.”
“Consumption took her sister too. It was a black summer. It hit our town hard.” There was a lengthy pause, and then Tom said, “The point is, you never know when it’s gonna end. You think you have forever, but then calamity strikes and forever just got a lot shorter. Nobody knows what’s up around the bend. When you find someone to ride the river with, you’d be stupid to let that go.”
“What are you sayin’ exactly?”
“If you have feelings for this woman and I suspect you do, you’d be an idiot not to follow through. I’d marry her now. Right now. Take what she’s got to offer and live while you can. None of us get a second chance, Sam. We’re not gonna make it out alive.”
My hand had gone to my mouth; fingernails were nibbled on. I waited for Samuel’s reply, my body inundated with nervous tension.
“You’re one of my best friends,” said Sam. “We’ve been through hell and high water together. No other opinion matters to me as much as yours. I’ll take your council to heart. I gotta get some shut-eye. Today was exhausting.”
“We were mighty successful. The first river crossin’ of the season and no fatalities.”
“Yeah, we done good.”
I hurried to the other side of the wagon, peering at the men, but they had gone. I was shocked by what I had heard, but pleasantly so. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen next, but there was one thing I knew for certain—I liked Tom Meek. He was as solid as any human being could be, and full of good advice. Of course, if he had said I was an ugly cow and to be avoided like the plague…well then, I would have hated him.
Chapter Eight
We pressed on after the river crossing, heading towards Chimney Rock, which was a milestone for progress, but the road had become weary for many, as tempers were short and nerves were frayed. To make matters worse, sickness had descended; several families had been laid low by fever and intestinal issues. It became so worrisome, that we had been called to an emergency meeting, while stopped for lunch.
Samuel stood on a wagon, his face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. “Listen up, people! We’ve got five cases of cholera now, and I’m sure more will be on the way. It’s imperative that you don’t drink the water straight from the source. It must be filtered through a cloth and boiled. Wait until the water is roiling in bubbles before even thinkin’ about drinking it.”
I glanced at Anne, knowing that we had often neglected to filter and boil our water, as it was time-consuming. She had raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, staring at Samuel.
“The symptoms of cholera are tiredness, fever, vomiting, and diarrhea. If you experience any of these, please let someone know. You’ll die, if you leave it untreated. This disease is fast, folks. It can kill a man in less than two days.” A low murmur went through the crowd, as Tom Meek came to stand next to Samuel. “You got somethin’ to add?”
He cleared his throat. “We have an easy recipe to help with the dehydration. It’s a teaspoon of salt and eight teaspoons of sugar to a liter of water. Make sure it’s clean water. Try to sip as much of it as you can. Once a patient gets the convulsions…it’s too late.”
“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to see me,” said Samuel. He jumped from the wagon, landing in reddish dirt. “I gotta check on some sick folks. Excuse me.”
“Is it contagious?” asked a woman in a floral dress.
“It’s not. You can only get it from bad water. Don’t fear your sick loved ones. They can’t pass it to you, once they get it.”
“Well,” said Mary. “Guess I better boil that water then. Oh, goodness. It’s always something.”
“What are some other symptoms?” asked a man. “I’ve had a headache for two days now.”
“Drowsiness, weakness, irritability, and muscle cramps,” said Tom.
“I’ve felt like that every darn day of this trip,” someone muttered.
“Can the horses get it?”
“No, ma’am. The livestock are safe.”
Mary waved her hand before her face. “It’s dreadfully hot today.”
I wasn’t listening, my mind turning over with the list of symptoms that Tom spoke about. I had woken this morning feeling awful, my body seemed to ache, but I assumed it was from walking more than six miles yesterday. Then…I had used the privy, and my stool had been watery.
Several miners passed, one muttering, “All this
sickness talk, and on top of that, it’s hot as a whorehouse on nickel night. I think this calls for a drink, boys. That’ll kill whatever germs we got in our bellies.”
“That’s an excellent solution, Wade.” They laughed, slapping each other on the back.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Mary glanced at me.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just fine.”
My stomach had begun to gurgle, as soon as we had packed up camp and pulled out to the road. I’d eaten lunch, a handful of dried jerky and some pickled eggs, but it had disagreed with me, and I had this horrible inkling that I would have to relieve myself by the side of the road. This was almost more alarming than the possibility that I might actually have cholera.
I’d managed to hang on another half an hour, but now it was impossible. “I’ll be right back.” I grabbed a sheet of newspaper, hopping to the ground.
“Where are you going?” Mary gazed after me.
“I’m not well!”
“Oh, the poor dear.”
I ran into the prairie, finding the nearest bush and scrambled to lower my pantalets, hoping not to soil my stocking in the process. Then I lifted the skirts and confirmed my fears. I was certainly not well. The pace of the procession was slow enough, where I caught up easily, but the walking had tired me considerably.
“What happened?” Abner looked concerned.
“I have some bowel issues.”
“Diarrhea?” asked Mary.
“Yes.”
“How long have you had it?”
“Since this morning.”
“You should drink some water.” She reached for the cask, popping out the cork. “Here, my dear. Keep yourself hydrated.”
“Thank you.”
The Chandlers exchanged a glance, and I knew they were worried. I was thinking the same, terrified that I might have been stricken with cholera. Twenty minutes later, I began to feel nauseous, the swaying of the wagon leaving me decidedly seasick. I grasped the seat, but it was too late, as I pitched myself sideways, vomiting near the front wheel.
“Oh, Abner. This is not good.”
“No, it isn’t.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’m fine.”
Mary got to her feet, maneuvering inside the wagon, arranging bedding on the floor. “My dear, you should come lay down.”
“All right. I’m sorry I’m causing such trouble.”
“You rest, and you’ll feel better,” said Abner.
Exhausted, I welcomed the softness of the bedroll, not minding the shaking of the conveyance, although my tummy had begun to gurgle once more. It was unfathomable to think that I might have to relieve myself on the prairie again, but less than an hour later; I grasped the newspaper and ran for the bushes. When I had finished, I stumbled to the road, the wagons having gone ahead. I was nearly towards the end of the convoy now…and dreadfully thirsty.
“Paulina!” Samuel trotted towards me, his eyes shaded by his hat. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get back.”
He held out a hand. “Here.” He hoisted me up, bringing me before him, while I sat sideways. “You been sick? I can smell it.”
The lethargy that gripped me could not be overstated. I could barely hold myself straight, and my strength had diminished. I leaned into him, finding the indentation between his neck and shoulder a comfortable place.
“I don’t feel so well.”
“Blasted!” He spurred the horse forward, the hooves pounding the ground while we moved up the line, heading towards the wagon he shared with Tom and William. “We got some of that cholera concoction left over?” he yelled.
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
“She’s sick. Somebody come take this horse.” He slid from the animal, taking me with him, as William approached. “I gotta get some fluids into her right now.”
“I got ‘im. Go help her.”
I was able to walk, but Samuel was behind me, assisting me onto the seat. The rocking of the wagon made balancing difficult, and I hated that I might have to vomit again. He directed me inside, which was far messier than the Chandlers, as the men had thrown their bedding and clothing in nearly every corner.
“Sit down. You look green.” A wooden bucket came my way. “You’re gonna need that.” I grasped it, my tummy clenching painfully, while I vomited. “Yeah, just like I thought.” He handed me a cloth, which I used to wipe my mouth. “I gotta get some fluid in you.” A water keg was in his hands, and he shook it, pouring a splash into a tin cup. Then he sat next to me. “Paulina?”
“Yes?”
“Honey, you gotta start drinking. Real slow sips but often. I need you to finish this cup, and then we’ll start another.”
“Okay.”
“That’s a good girl.”
I held the cup in a trembling hand, meeting his concerned expression. He watched me carefully while I drank, the salty, sweet fluid wetting my lips. When I had fished, I lay back, utterly exhausted, desiring to close my eyes.
“You rest for a spell, and then you’ll have more.”
“Hey, Tucker. Abner Chandler’s here.”
“Yeah, I’ll be right out.”
He grabbed the bucket, while I stared at the canvas above my head, feeling cold. Although it was hotter than ninety degrees, I began to shiver.
“I’ve got Paulina. She’s not well.”
“I know you’ll take care of her. I wouldn’t trust her with anyone but you.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got plenty of sick settlers. I’ll be checkin’ on all of ‘em soon enough.”
“Please let me know if there’s anything we can do.”
“She should pull through, if she gets enough fluid.”
“Now that I know she’s with you, I don’t have to worry. We thought she’d gotten lost in the prairie.”
“You probably drank the same water. I’d be concerned over your own health, Mr. Chandler.”
“Yes, we are. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Fine. I need to get back to Paulina.”
“We’ll see her at the campsite.”
I’d closed my eyes, listening to their conversation, hoping that the water would stay down.
“Honey, I want you to drink some more.” He helped me to sit up.
“I’m so cold.”
He sighed. “That’s the fever.”
Our eyes met. “You’re so sweet…Sam…”
“Just drink now. Start with a coupla sips.”
My throat was parched. “I’ll try.”
Shifting, Samuel positioned himself behind me, holding me in his arms, while I used his chest for a pillow. As I shivered from cold, he encouraged me to drink, until I was sick of the taste; the salty quality was repulsive, but I did as he asked. I rested between cups, holding onto his arms, because they were warm and I was cold. He’d crossed them over my tummy. If I weren’t so sick, I would have been overjoyed at the closeness and the comfort I found being near him, but I was far too gone to appreciate it fully. By the time the wagons left the path to form a wide circle, I’d not thrown up again, but I sensed I needed to use the privy.
I’d drunk several cups worth of salty sweet fluid, but I was still parched, my thirst extreme and I longed for lemonade or ice tea, but there was only the horrible cure, which I forced myself to drink.
“I’m going to make up your tent, Paulina.”
“Fine.”
“You look awful.”
“I feel awful.”
“I’ll come get you when it’s done.”
I waited, sipping the drink, while grimacing. It was important that I continue, and I was determined to do as Samuel asked, for he had been adamant about it. When he returned, he helped me from the wagon, directing me towards the tent.
“I need the privy.”
“It’s this way.”
My fears were confirmed after I’d disappeared into the latrine, as the contents of my bowels were a wet, whitish fluid. I was certain this could not be
good. Samuel escorted me to the tent, and I collapsed upon the bedroll, while my tummy cramped horribly.
“How’s she doing?” Mary had arrived.
“She’s got cholera.”
“Oh, dear heaven!”
“I’ve got to keep her from dehydrating, but I’m fighting one hell of a battle. She’s losing more water than I can get in her.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Just make sure you boil your water. Only boiled water from here on out.”
“Yes, I’ve done that…well, not always.”
“No time for laying blame. It’s too late for that anyway.”
“That poor girl. She looks sallow. Her eyes have sunken.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen this look before.”
I stared at him; his lips had thinned. “I’ll be fine.” My voice was breathy and soft. I didn’t have the energy to speak any louder.
He touched my face. “You had better get well, Paulina.” He sounded stern. “You hear me? You’re gonna drink that medicine and keep it down from here on out. Is that clear?”
Tears filled my eyes, because I was certain I wouldn’t be able to do as he asked, although I wished I could. “I’ll try.” I was in his arms, pressed to his chest, while sobs wracked me, my body trembling from the chill of fever and emotion.
“Can I bring you some supper, Mr. Tucker?”
“I’d be much obliged, Mrs. Chandler. Thank you.”
I was able to sleep for a while, as Samuel held me. It wasn’t until his supper came that he gently laid me down, while saying, “Dear Lord, I thank you for this food and for the blessing of good health, but would you please heal this woman? I don’t care so much about myself, but I would really like to see her get well. I’ll do whatever you want, Lord, if you’ll make her better. Amen.”
I’d heard all of that, wanting to smile, but my lips wouldn’t move. I closed my hand around his, squeezing his fingers. When I opened my eyes, I caught sight of him staring at me.
“I mean it. He better make you well. I’ll never set foot in another church again if you die.”