Despite his raspy voice, the preacher’s message rang clear. He told the story of Jacob and Rebekah, a classic tale of deceit, lies, and an unhappy ending. Angie studied the oak wood grain on the back of the next pew and tried to close her ears. Why did that story come up at every turn? She was getting tired of it.
At the church door, she shook the pastor’s hand without stopping to talk. She spotted Judy in a group of children playing tag in the churchyard. “Judy!” she called. “It’s time to go.”
“Already?” Judy asked, her cheeks ruddy from the cold and exercise. “We just got outside.”
“See? Barry’s standing beside the buggy already.” Angie nodded toward the row of black, box-shaped vehicles.
Judy cocked her head to get a better look at the wide man with a heavy gray beard standing next to Barry. “He’s still talking to Mr. Sutton. Can’t I play until he’s through?” Judy begged.
“Sorry.” Angie grasped the girl’s hand. “Your father’s sick, and I want to get home to him. Let’s go.”
Barry broke off his conversation when they arrived, and the little group set off. “Get along home, Cindy, Cindy,” Barry sang when they were out of earshot of the church. Judy added her soprano to his baritone until the horses pricked up their ears. Angie stared at the snow-covered distance and wondered what was wrong with her today. Maybe she was catching something too.
A worried frown on her face, Saundra met them at the door. “I went up a few minutes ago, and Lane’s got a fever. I think you ought to look at him, Angie.”
Angie didn’t stop to take off her coat. Rushing down the hall, she tugged her bonnet loose. Behind her, Barry asked Saundra more questions about Lane’s condition. Judy trotted to catch up with Angie.
“What’s wrong with him?” Judy asked, fear in her voice.
“I hope it’s just a bad cold.” Angie tapped on the bedroom door and opened it a crack. “Lane? Are you asleep?”
“Come in.” His voice sounded so weak that Angie could hardly hear him.
Judy pushed through the door and ran to the brass bed. She threw herself across her father’s chest. “Papa!”
Giving a muffled grunt under the impact, he weakly patted her back. Angie gently pulled the child off her father.
“Are you hurting anywhere?” Angie asked, touching his hot brow. His breath came in shallow, loose-lipped gasps.
“Everywhere. My joints especially.”
She asked him a few more questions then touched Judy’s shoulder. “He needs to rest, Judy. We’d best go out.” To Lane she said, “I’ll send up some sassafras and willow tea.”
He grimaced.
“I know you don’t like it, but it’ll help you sleep.” She pulled the covers close about his neck and resisted the impulse to touch his cheek. Standing, she whispered, “C’mon, Judy.”
Outside the door his daughter said, “He looks so sick, Angie.”
“I know.” She hugged Judy close and tried to quiet her own fears. A heartfelt prayer winged upward.
When they reached the kitchen, in the center of the table lay a dried-apple pie beside a bowl of thick stew. Barry looked over the food. “You’ve been in the house all morning, Saundra. How about a walk to the pond after—?” Catching sight of Angie, he broke off.
Ignoring Barry, Angie said, “Lane has a fever all right.” She pulled at her wide coat buttons. “I wish there were a doctor in Chancyville. Since old Doc Taylor died, we’ve all been praying for a new man to come in, but so far no one has.” She hung up her coat. “I have some dried tea leaves in a tin somewhere. I’ll make him a strong pot.”
“I thought you said he doesn’t like tea,” Saundra said.
“He hates it.” Angie reached for her gray apron. “Sometimes a person has to swallow things he doesn’t like.” She opened a cabinet door. “Now where did I put that tin?”
Fifteen minutes later she held a tray out to Saundra. “Here. Take this up to him.”
Saundra peered into the mug full of dark tea. “What if he doesn’t want it?”
“If he won’t take it, let me know. I’ll come up and make him drink it,” Angie said.
Saundra looked uncertain. “I used to care for my father when he was sick, but he never gave me any trouble.”
“Lane barks a lot, but he never bites.” Angie watched her go and muttered under her breath, “Well, almost never.”
“When can we eat?” Barry asked, sniffing the pie.
“No reason why you can’t dig in,” Angie told him, turning away. “Judy! Stop fidgeting and sit down.” Angie joined them for the blessing. She spooned tiny portions onto her own plate but ate only a few bites. Nothing tasted good today.
Monday and Tuesday Lane lay in fevered semiconsciousness. The entire household felt the strain. Saundra made endless trips up and down the stairs. Angie fretted in the kitchen, keeping the teapot going, baking extra bread for freezing now that the weather had turned cold for good. She prayed for Lane with every movement.
Every afternoon after school, Judy rushed up the stairs then trudged back down to the kitchen fighting tears. “What if he doesn’t get better, Angie?” she whimpered on Tuesday. “What if he dies like Mama did?”
Angie wrapped her arms around the girl and held her pigtailed head close to her heart. “Don’t even think that way, Judy. Your father will get better in a few days. We have to keep up hope.” She gave her an extra squeeze. “How about taking care of Tip and the chickens and then get out your quilting scraps after supper? We’ll have a quiet evening in the kitchen.”
Dashing the tears from her face, Judy plodded out to do the chores. She came in with Barry an hour later, both of them looking glum.
“I’m having a hard time getting the last of that wood split and stacked,” Barry admitted, hanging up his hat. “We have about two cords left to do, and it’s getting colder by the day. Lane wanted it all split before Thanksgiving in case we have a spell of bad weather.”
“I’ll try to help you stack some tomorrow,” Angie promised, wondering where she’d get the strength to make good her promise.
Saundra took a tray of tea and toast up to Lane while Angie put supper on the table: creamed chip beef over biscuits. The only one who ate normal portions that evening was Barry.
The windows shone black when Barry sat with his chair pushed back, his feet straight out ahead of him, relaxing with a hand-whittled toothpick in his mouth. Angie and Judy were clearing the table when someone knocked lightly on the back door.
The sound made Angie jump. “Who could that be?” she asked. “I hope none of our neighbors is sick and needs help.”
Barry stood to his feet and opened the door a crack. A moment later his face showed concern. He pulled the thick wooden door wider to reveal a thin man with a straggling gray beard. He stood propped against the doorjamb. He had sagging cheeks and hollow blue eyes. His ragged clothes hung on him as if they were made for someone much larger. His mouth drooped open, and his breath came in gasps.
Barry hesitated, staring as though he wondered if the person before him were a ghost or maybe a dream.
Angie hurried forward. “Come in,” she said. “You look frozen.”
“Thank you,” the stranger rasped. “You are very kind.” He spoke with a heavy German accent. His breathy voice formed the words slowly as though his face were frozen. “I’ve been walking for three days without food. All I had is chust some coffee.” He set down a bundle of rags with a dented coffeepot tied to its side.
“Sit here,” Angie said, pulling out a chair. She turned toward the door. “You’re letting in the cold, Barry.”
Her fiancé quickly closed the door. He returned to his seat, still watching the newcomer.
“I’ll have you a plate of hot food in just a moment,” Angie went on. She knew the frontier drill well. Any stranger in this kind of trouble needed tending to. A person never knew when he would be the one in need himself.
“I’m looking for work,” the old fellow gasped. He rubb
ed bony chapped hands across a thick overcoat that had crude patches over its elbows. “Do you need a farm hand or someone to help in the house?”
Angie looked at Barry, eyebrows raised. When he didn’t answer, she said, “We’ll talk about that later, Mr.—”
“My name is Hans Grobner,” he said, “and thank you kindly.”
Judy sidled up to Angie while she ladled creamed beef onto a plate. “He talks like Saundra,” the girl whispered.
Angie nodded, then sent her a warning look when the child would have continued talking.
Setting the brimming plate, a knife and fork, and a bowl full of biscuits in front of Hans, Angie asked, “Would you like some tea?”
He beamed at her. “That would be wonderful!” One hand reached for his fork while the other scooped up two fat biscuits.
Judy hustled out of the room and came back with Saundra a few minutes later. “This is Saundra,” she proudly told Hans. “She’s from Germany.”
Immediately the old man was transformed. He came erect and looked at the blond woman before him. A gush of German came from him like water out of a newly primed pump. Saundra replied, and they shook hands.
For ten minutes Angie, Barry, and Judy listened to the guttural tones of a language they couldn’t understand. Finally Saundra turned to Angie. “He has no family and no place to stay. His summer job ended more than a month ago. He’s desperate for a place to wait out the winter. He wants to know if you need a man to help around the ranch. He said he’d even cook or scrub floors in exchange for a place to stay.”
Angie looked at Barry. “We do need help until Lane gets back on his feet, but I’ll have to talk it over with Lane before we commit ourselves.” She spoke directly to Hans. “You are welcome to stay here for the night. There’s no place close enough for you to reach tonight anyway. You can stay with Barry in the bunk room behind the barn. Come with him to breakfast in the morning, too.”
Barry stood. “That’s right, Hans. It’s warm out there in the bunk room once I get the fire going.” He reached for his coat. “I’ll go out and stoke the potbelly stove now.” He disappeared into the darkness.
Hans turned his attention back to his empty plate as if he’d forgotten that he’d already cleared it.
“Would you like some more?” Angie offered. “There’s plenty.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” he said. “I know God led me here to you fine people. If you had turned me away, I don’t know what would have become of me.”
“I’ll get some blankets,” Angie said. She set another full plate before him and hurried to the linen closet at the back of the pantry.
After he finished his meal, Hans didn’t stay long to chat. He again thanked Angie and Saundra then clumped out to the barn, his bedding under one scrawny arm, his pack under the other.
Angie looked at Saundra. “What do you make of him?” she asked.
Saundra replied, “He’s a very lonely man who has come into hard times. I’m glad you welcomed him in, Angie.”
Angie shrugged. “I could never turn away someone in that kind of shape. It would be heartless to do that.”
Chapter 7
Angie pulled off her apron. “I’m going up to see if Lane’s still awake. I need to ask him what we can do for poor Hans.”
She found Lane plucking at his quilt, with one leg in red woolen underwear lying halfway out from under the covers. When she reached the bed, he turned to give her a blank stare.
“Water,” he gasped. “I’m so thirsty.”
“It’s the fever,” she said, reaching for the glass and pitcher beside his bed. She helped him sit up and handed him the full glass.
When he lay back, she said, “We have a guest. He’s a German man who stopped by looking for work.”
Lane licked chapped lips. “A tramp, you mean.”
“He’s thin as a scarecrow, but I don’t think he’s a tramp, Lane. He acts too respectable. He even shook Saundra’s hand when she spoke to him in German.”
Lane peered at her. “You think tramps don’t know how to shake hands?”
She grimaced. “That’s not what I meant.” She leaned closer. “Listen. Barry is worn out. He’s doing the work of two men. If we could keep Hans on until you can go back to work, it would take a real strain off the rest of us.”
“There’s no money, Angie,” he gasped.
“We could let him work for room and board,” she said. “I think he’ll be willing to do that. We have plenty of food in the root cellar and enough beef and venison in the smokehouse to last until next August.”
“Keep an eye on him,” Lane told her. “I don’t like the idea of a strange man hanging around my ladies.”
She chuckled. “Why, Lane, I didn’t know you were so protective.”
He reached for her hand. “I take care of things that belong to me, Angie. You know that.”
A jolt went through her, and she jerked her hand away. “I’ll talk to Hans and Barry in the morning,” she murmured and stepped back from the bed. “Get some sleep now. I’ll check on you later.” She hurried from the room, her heart thumping, her hand tingling. Pausing in the hall, she pressed a dry palm against her brow.
“Are you sick, too, Angie?” Judy asked, eyeing her from the top of the stairs.
“No, hon,” she said, stepping toward her. “I’m not sick, just tired. I guess we all are. Let’s put out the lamps and go to bed soon.”
“Can we have some warm milk first?” Judy asked. “I’m cold.”
“We’ll get out the last of Saundra’s sugar cookies too,” Angie added, putting her arm around the girl.
The next morning, Hans came to breakfast with his steel-gray hair slicked down and his beard neatly trimmed. His cheeks curved just beneath his eyes, and he had full red lips.
When he smiled at Angie, his whole face lit up. Amazing what a good night’s sleep and warm, nourishing food could do for a person in just a few hours.
“Good morning, madam,” Hans said, shaking her hand. “I must apologize for my rudeness last night. I was so cold and hungry that I forgot my manners.”
Angie smiled up at him. “There’s no need to apologize. I’ve been cold and hungry myself before.” She looked toward the table. “Have a seat, and I’ll serve up the hotcakes.”
Barry moved around to his chair near the wall. “You don’t have to tell me that twice, Angie girl. We’ve already split a sight of wood out there. I could eat a wagon load of these things.” He nodded toward Hans. “We’ve got us a good hand here. I hope we get to keep him.”
Angie spoke to Hans. “I talked with Lane, and he said you could stay on, but we can only give you room and board as wages. The farm’s had some hard times lately, and there’s no cash.” She smiled. “But there’s plenty of food and lots of wood to keep us warm.”
Hans smiled broadly. His teeth were square-shaped. “What more can a man ask besides a full stomach and a nice fire?” He bent his head toward her. “Please, tell Mr. Lane that I’m very grateful.”
Barry handed him the platter of hotcakes. “Help yourself, Hans, while they’re still warm.”
Soon afterward Judy came bounding down the stairs with her books in hand, and Angie left the kitchen to drive her to school.
As the buggy rumbled back into the yard an hour later, she waved at Barry and Hans standing beside the barn and surrounded by a thick pile of split logs. Barry leaned on a wide ax handle, and Hans had his arms piled high with wood. Both wore huge grins as though they shared a joke. They nodded at Angie, and Barry hefted the ax over his head, intent on an upright log positioned on a stump before him. With a sharp crack the wood split neatly in two and fell to the ground.
By this time Angie had pulled Dan to a halt beside the barn door. Barry dropped his ax and came to unhitch the horse for her. His face was flushed, his hair bristling.
He drew close to her when she climbed down. They were hidden from view between the buggy and the barn wall. Without warning, he pulled her into his ar
ms and tried to kiss her.
With an irritated gasp, Angie pulled away. “Barry, why are you constantly embarrassing me? What if Hans came around the building?”
Hands on her upper arms, Barry twisted his mouth. “Whatsa matter with you, Angie? Lately you act like you don’t want me around.”
She stepped back. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Barry. Lane’s sick. Saundra’s here,” her voice choked, “and I already miss Judy.”
“Miss her? We’re only moving ten miles away, not to the next state. You’ll see her plenty.”
Angie stared at the ground. “It won’t be the same, though, Barry.” She drew in a breath and tilted her head back to look into his face. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been much fun lately.” She stood on tiptoe to peck his cheek. “I’ve got to help Saundra. She’s getting worn out taking care of Lane.”
Barry brightened. “She’s been great, hasn’t she? What a trooper.”
Angie allowed him a quick nod and headed across the yard, skirts held above her ankles, her feet stretching out. Saundra was a trooper for carrying a few trays up the stairs? How about Angie who had managed the entire house for years? Barry had never even noticed that.
Inside the warm kitchen, Angie pulled off her coat and attacked the breakfast dishes. She felt a tiredness inside that had nothing to do with chores or lack of sleep.
When Barry and Hans arrived for lunch, a pot of stew and a pan of biscuits sat ready on the stove. Hundreds of wood chips speckled their dark coats. Their faces shone with sweat despite the cold weather. Hans’s rosy face creased into a grin when he saw Saundra. Immediately a rush of German filled the kitchen.
Unable to understand, Angie still enjoyed listening to the flow of conversation between them. She filled bowls and coffee cups while the men shed their coats and washed their hands. Gone from Hans’s face was the desperation of the night before. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d changed from a hollow-eyed tramp into a gentleman with rosy cheeks and a ready laugh.
“Forgive me,” Hans told Angie as he sank into his chair. “I can’t help talking to Saundra in my own language.” He smiled at the blond woman beside the stove. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to speak German.” His words had a strange sort of singsong that made him nice to listen to.
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