Secrets of a Midnight Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book One

by Jane Bonander

  Releasing a sigh, Anna got to her feet. It was foolish to think she could sit and hold the child all night. She wanted to bring Summer back to her cabin, but knew if she couldn’t watch all of the sick children, she shouldn’t single out one. She also knew she wouldn’t sleep at all if she couldn’t stay close to Summer. Hiking Summer closer, Anna trudged to the dormitory and laid the child on her cot.

  She sat down on the side of the bed and watched Summer’s fretful sleep. She pressed her fist against her lips to still her quivering mouth, and prayed.

  The next two days were nothing short of miserable. The children’s fevers rose and fell over and over again, and no one slept through the night.

  By the end of the third day the older children were up and around. Shy Fawn had continued to brew the fever medicine and help with the meals, but Anna found herself and two of the older girls nursing all of the children except for Cub. Sky, who had helped a good deal the first two days, was gone. Anna didn’t know why he had to leave, but she missed his quiet strength. The one question that kept pecking at her was why Nicolas hadn’t returned.

  Exhausted, she sat down on Summer’s cot. The child’s fever had broken earlier in the morning. She brushed Summer’s black flyaway hair from her face and bent down to kiss her chapped, reddened cheek.

  Gently, so she wouldn’t awaken Summer, she left the cot and made her way back to her own cabin. As she passed Joke’s shop, she realized she hadn’t seen the smith for a few days. Concerned, she stepped into the shop and noticed a low fire burning unbanked in the forge. Odd, she thought, remembering her second day at the camp. Joke had scolded her for failing to bank her fire. Anna didn’t think he’d be so careless with his own.

  She wandered through the cavernous building, out the back door, and saw his u-ma-cha. She peered inside and found it empty. As she turned away, she saw the thin spiral of smoke coming from the sweathouse. She started toward the earthen mound, then stopped, reluctant to intrude on some private ceremony.

  She called out. “Joke?”

  There was no answer. She took a deep breath, lifted the hem of her dress, climbed to the large hole and slowly descended into the darkened pit. It was scorching hot inside. A blast of blistering air buffeted her skin as her feet touched the bottom. Her eyes began to water from the heat and the smoke. She coughed.

  “Joke?”

  Joke was lying next to the fire, curled up in a ball, shivering.

  Anna kneeled beside him, touched his shoulder.

  Joke opened his eyes and groaned. “Joke sick.”

  She felt his face. It was as hot as the children’s had been. “Let me help you.” He shook his head. She looked around the hazy room, nearly choking on the smoke. “You need fresh air.”

  “Joke be fine,” he said, his teeth chattering.

  “I can’t just leave you like this,” Anna wailed. “I’ll get you some of Shy Fawn’s medicine, and you’ll drink it.” She saw the flicker of a smile on Joke’s lips. “Whether you like it or not!” She hurried out of the sweathouse and back to the work area.

  Shy Fawn was removing some rocks from a basket of hot water when Anna ran to her. “What is wrong? Is another child down?”

  “No, it’s Joke. He’s shivering and running a terrible fever. He won’t leave that hot, smoky sweathouse. Do you have any medicine left?”

  Shy Fawn’s eyes shifted to the cup that sat next to her on a tiny wooden stand. She glanced quickly back at Anna. “There is only a little tea left.”

  “Let me have it for Joke.” Anna noticed Shy Fawn glance at Cub, who was playing happily on the rug beside her. He was remarkably chipper, unlike the other children, who were recovering far more slowly. “Please?”

  Shy Fawn sighed and nodded. ‘Tell Joke I am sorry he is sick.”

  As Anna rushed back to the sweathouse, she had the feeling that it had taken Shy Fawn much effort to speak those words.

  After forcing Joke to drink the medicine, she dragged herself to her cabin. As she undressed, she closed her eyes against the blinding headache that had begun earlier in the day. She forced herself to wash her face, then slipped into bed, under the patchwork quilt. Within seconds she was asleep.

  From a distance Anna heard someone crying and calling her name. Fighting through the fatigue that had dropped her into the dark well of sleep, she tried to clear her head. It took an effort to open her gravelly eyes. Her head still ached.

  “Oh, Miss Anna! Miss Anna!”

  She pulled herself up and squinted at June, who was standing next to the bed, bouncing a fussy Summer against her shoulder.

  Hearing Summer’s weak, croaky cries brought Anna fully awake. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She swallowed and dismissed the scratchy feeling in her throat as she took the child from June’s outstretched arms.

  A fresh flush of fear bathed Anna’s skin. Summer was burning up with fever again.

  She looked up at June, who was stepping nervously from one foot to the other. “When did this happen?”

  “Oh, holy cow! She was good till last night, then she started in a’wailin’ again.”

  “Last night? What—” Anna looked at her window and saw the gray light. “What time is it?”

  June shrugged helplessly. “I dunno. Shy Fawn’s fixing breakfast.”

  Anna closed her eyes and hugged Summer close. “How could this happen? Are any of the others sick again?”

  June shook her head.

  Laying Summer gently on the bed, Anna slid out and slipped back into her worn, dirty gown and apron. She tied her hair back with a leather thong, put on her moccasins and hurried to the commode.

  “Will she die?”

  June’s plaintive question brought a lump to Anna’s throat. She poured water into the basin and pulled out a flannel cloth from the drawer. Summoning up strength she didn’t know she had, she swallowed hard and pulled in a deep breath. “No,” she said emphatically. “We won’t let her die.”

  Crossing back to the bed, Anna put the basin down on the crude wooden table that held an oil lamp. Wetting the cloth, she wrung out the excess water and pressed it against Summer’s hot, dry forehead.

  “What’re you doing?”

  Anna glanced up as June leaned over her shoulder. “I’m going to try something. Let’s hope the cool water will bring the fever back down.”

  June studied Anna’s movements, then frowned. “Why not just take her to the river?”

  Anna’s hands stopped. ‘To the river?”

  “Sure. That’s how come Cub got well faster’n the rest of us.”

  Anna turned and stared at June. “What are you saying?”

  June stepped back, appearing frightened by the look in Anna’s eyes. “Shy Fawn cooled Cub off lotsa times in that pool beside the river.”

  Anna’s shoulders slumped and she felt tears of angry frustration behind her eyes. She really hadn’t wanted to believe Shy Fawn could be so selfish.

  Whipping off a flannel cover from the shelf, Anna wrapped Summer in the blanket, picked her up and ran out the door.

  At the pool of water, she unwrapped the blanket and pulled off Summer’s flannel sleep shirt. Quickly kicking off her moccasins, Anna stepped into the cool water and sat down, not caring that water seeped through the hem of her clothes.

  When the tepid water hit Summer’s warm skin, she started to cry.

  “Shhh, sweetheart,” Anna soothed, cupping the water over the girl’s chubby legs and up under her arms. Summer continued to cry, and Anna crooned to her in soft, comforting tones. “I know, love,” she said quietly. She brought her sleeve to her face and wiped the wetness from her eyes. “I’m sorry, darling, but this will make you feel better.”

  Morning turned into afternoon, and June came by with food and water. Periodically Anna would dip Summer into the cool bath, then wrap her in the soft blanket, and the child would sleep. Once Summer whimpered, and when Anna touched the child’s forehead, it felt cool.

  She picked Summer up and cuddled her close
, pressing her nose into Summer’s hair and breathing in the child’s unique smell. Her mother had always said she knew which clothes belonged to which child, for each had her own special smell. Anna now understood that. She rocked back and forth, a gesture she found comforting to her hapless thoughts.

  As she looked out over the river, past the hypnotic water which foamed and tumbled in torrents over the rocks, she wished Nicolas hadn’t left. She needed to see him, ached to see him. She thought of the child, their child, growing inside her. No matter what happened from now on, she had a precious part of Nicolas that would be hers forever.

  She sucked in a deep breath and coughed, wincing against the gritty feeling in her throat and the tightness in her chest. Her eyelids were so heavy, and she was tired. Glancing down at Summer, she smiled and hugged her even closer. She looked so precious. Anna gently moved her finger over Summer’s chapped cheek, then outlined the child’s perfectly shaped mouth. Summer coughed; a deep, loose sound that came when the infection was breaking up. She frowned in her sleep, squeezed her eyes tight, then relaxed, a movement that settled her silky black lashes back against her cheeks.

  Summer looked so peaceful in sleep, Anna couldn’t help but want to join her. Her headache hadn’t gotten any better. She carefully slid to the ground and pulled Summer tight against her. The cooling wind chilled the sweat that dampened her face and neck, and she pulled Summer closer, hoping to warm herself. As hard as she tried to stay awake, Anna felt her eyelids drooping over her eyes. Well, she thought, maybe if she took just a little nap …

  “What do you mean, you haven’t seen her?” Nicolas stormed back from Anna’s empty cabin and confronted a nervous but still defensive Shy Fawn.

  “I don’t keep track of her. I have enough to do to keep track of the children.” She pulled Cub onto her lap, and the child immediately opened her bodice in search of nourishment.

  Nicolas looked away and raked his fingers through his hair. Sky’s news had shaken him. In the short time he’d had the children hidden at the compound, none had ever been sick. He swore silently, knowing it was too late to wonder how the fever had found its way there. At least none of the children had died. He was thankful for that.

  He looked toward the dormitory and saw June hurrying toward him. “Have you seen Miss Jenson?” he asked, walking out to meet her.

  “Oh, oh, Mr. Nick,” she wailed, wringing her hands.

  Dread stalked his spine. “What is it?”

  June began to babble nervously, her words tumbling over one another. “Summer was all well, then she got sick again, and I had to wake up Miss Anna ’cause she was so tired from takin’ care of all us kids, and she promised me Summer wouldn’t die, and she took Summer and ran to the river!”

  Nicolas grasped June’s hands. “Show me where they are.”

  June pulled away from him and ran down the path toward the river, Nicolas jogging easily behind her. When they broke through the trees, June headed straight for the pond.

  At first glance the two figures, one so brown and one so fair, looked dead. His heart hammered against his ribs as he knelt down beside the pair and reached out to touch first Summer’s face, then Anna’s.

  “Anna?” He ran his index finger across her soft cheek and pulled back, startled at the hot, dry texture of her skin. He balled his hands into fists and stood up, hiding his concern so he wouldn’t frighten June. “Can you carry Summer back to the dormitory?” he asked her.

  June nodded, her large black eyes blinking nervously as she pulled Summer into her arms.

  “And June … ?”

  She turned back, her face frozen with fear and confusion.

  ‘Tell Sky and Shy Fawn to meet me at Anna’s cabin.”

  Nicolas watched the girl’s small, thin back as she hurried toward the compound. When she was out of sight, he bent down again and gently smoothed Anna’s hair back from her face. His forehead furrowed into deep, care-abiding rows. He felt powerless. With one arm resting on his knee, he brought his head down and breathed deeply. There was so little he could do for her here. He rubbed his hand across his face and tried to think. She could be treated like the children had been. It was either that or take her …

  No, he thought, suddenly leaping into action, lifting Anna into his arms. He couldn’t bring her into town without causing a thousand tongues to wag. It wouldn’t be fair to her. She’d be ruined for life if anyone were to know she’d been forced to live among his people. Besides, there was the problem of what she knew, and what she might innocently say.

  He strode purposefully toward Anna’s cabin, now and then stealing a glance at her feverish face, so frail, delicate, and pale. A lump of shame tightened in his chest. This was his fault. If he hadn’t kidnapped her and then forced her to stay, she wouldn’t have been exposed to this.

  He kicked her cabin door open with the toe of his heavy leather riding boot and rushed inside, then gently put Anna on her bed. His eyes roamed over her tumbled, unruly hair, which obviously hadn’t seen a brush or a shampoo in days and was now streaked white-gold from her many weeks in the sun. Closing his eyes, he brought a handful of hair to his face and buried his nose in it, rubbing it across his skin.

  He looked at her face again. She hadn’t stirred. She was sleeping deeply, her mouth open just enough to let air move between her cracked, sunburned lips.

  A deep red stain on her apron caught his eye, and he realized how soiled and worn her clothing was. The reddened stain was only one of many, and the pocket that had once been stitched to the fabric was gone, apparently torn off, leaving tiny holes beneath it. The careful, ornate crocheted hem, once white, was now an infusion of soiled earth colors. The buttons of her drab brown dress were gone at the neck, leaving clumps of brown thread behind, and both shoulder seams were torn and ragged.

  Hauling himself off the bed, Nicolas strode to the commode and rung out a cloth with cool water. He was wiping her face with it when Sky rushed into the room. “She’s burning up with fever.”

  Sky had entered the cabin. He stopped at the bedside, his face etched with concern. “She can’t stay here.”

  Nicolas looked back at Anna. “Shy Fawn will know what to do.”

  Sky shook his head. ‘Take her to the doctor.”

  “No!” Nicolas hung his head. “No,” he repeated in a quiet voice. “I can’t risk it.”

  “Why?” Sky went to the fireplace and built a fire.

  “Dammit, you know why.”

  Sky stayed at the fireplace after the fire was blazing, appearing reluctant to face his friend. “Is it because you fear for her? Or,” he said softly, “because you fear for yourself?”

  Nicolas dropped the cloth into the basin. “Both.”

  Sky turned toward his friend. “You don’t know if she’s strong enough to recover out here.”

  Nicolas bolted from the bed and stormed to the window. “Of course she is,” he said with false conviction.

  “You’re willing to—”

  “I’m not willing to put everything I’ve worked so hard to protect into jeopardy by bringing her to Pine Valley.” He turned from the window and glared at Sky.

  “But you’re willing to put her health in danger instead?”

  “She’ll be taken care of just as well here.”

  “Shy Fawn will fight you,” Sky said softly.

  “Shy Fawn will do as I say.” He wasn’t convinced, but he had to hope what he said was so. He had no fear that with the proper care, Anna would recover just as the children had. He had to believe that, or his guilt would ravage him.

  Nicolas went back to the bed. “Go tell Shy Fawn we need some of her medicine.”

  Sky sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said before he left the cabin.

  “Sweet heaven,” Nicolas said to himself, turning back to the bed, “so do I.” He reached down and touched Anna’s bare foot. It was cold. He rubbed one foot, then the other, working his hands over the skin and bone until they felt warm. Then he reached ar
ound and untied her filthy, tattered apron and threw it on the floor. Slowly, carefully, he unbuttoned the remaining buttons down the front of her dress, lifted her up and slid her arms out of the sleeves.

  His heart squeezed with pity as he looked at her shabby underthings. He fingered the stitching Anna had made to cover a rip in the bodice of the unadorned muslin camisole. He glanced at the sturdy strap that went over her smooth, white shoulder, and saw that the strap, too, had been torn from the bodice, and restitched. For a moment he could see her sitting in the dark cabin, close to the lamp so she could carefully stitch up holes in her ragged undergarments. His anguish deepened.

  He sighed and dragged his hands over his face before sliding the ugly, soiled brown dress off her hips. He tossed it on the floor beside the apron. They were worse than rags. He glanced back at Anna and his heart melted. She deserved to be dressed in the finest silks and satins. She deserved to have servants. She deserved to have more than the barest of necessities. She deserved better than he’d given her, and most of all, she deserved a better man than he.

  Before he tucked her thin, bare arms under the covers, he touched her skin. It was soft and white above her wrists. The expanse of flesh above her breasts was so thin he could see tiny blue veins beneath it, and there was a patch of freckles in the hollow of her throat. A tender warmth spread through him, and he lowered his head, pressing a gentle kiss on the side of her neck.

  She began to shiver. Her teeth clattered together and her breathing became labored. Nicolas tore through her trunk, found her flannel nightgown and dressed her like a child would dress a new doll. Using the nightgown as a modest barrier, he unfastened her petticoat and drawers, slid them off her and added them to the pile of rags on the floor.

  He heaped on as many blankets as he could find. When she continued to shiver, he pulled off his boots and his shirt and slid beneath the covers. He curled around her back and dragged her against him, hoping to warm her. Occasionally his glance shot to the door. Where was Shy Fawn? And where in hell was the medicine?