“Reverend, what brings you to the schoolhouse?” She addressed him formally, mindful of her students.
Timothy nodded toward the students who were all but staring at him from their seats before tipping his hat to Katherine. “Please pardon the interruption, Miss Matthews, but there is an urgent matter I need to speak with you about.”
What could be so important that he would take her away from her students?
“Of course.”
The worry etched on his face only caused her trepidation to rise.
She turned back to the class and glanced at her watch. “Becky?” she called to one of her more reliable students as she worked the pin on her broach that bore the timepiece. She moved over to where the older girl sat near the back of the room and placed the heirloom watch on the student’s desk. “Would you collect the slates at 1:30?”
The red-haired girl bobbed her head in response.
Turning back toward Timothy, she motioned that they should step farther out of the schoolroom. As she closed the door behind herself, Timothy took her arm and moved her an even greater distance from the schoolhouse. Grateful for his vigilance, she allowed him to lead her. The worried look on his face when he had spoken earlier troubled her. She did not want any of the students to overhear what he was about to say. And it seemed to be one of his concerns, too.
“Timothy, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” Katherine couldn’t help the shakiness in her voice. The chill of the day also pervaded her body. She had not grabbed her wrap, so she stood out in the cold of Colorado’s early winter with naught but her dress to keep her warm. Moving her hands over her arms did not calm her shaking.
Eyeing her movements, Timothy’s mouth opened and then closed. He then shrugged off his coat. “My apologies, Katie. I dragged you out here without your warm things.”
“What about you?” Her teeth chattered a little as she spoke. Wouldn’t Timothy be chilled once he gave her his coat?
But as he removed his outer covering, she saw that he still had a jacket on underneath. Not as heavy as the one he now wrapped around her, but more than she had.
“I will be fine.” His hands lingered on her arms a moment longer than they needed to. But she didn’t mind. He gazed into her eyes and his face inched closer to hers.
Was this the moment? Was he going to kiss her?
He stopped abruptly, pulling back and releasing his grasp on her arms. The energy between them changed as if he remembered he had come for a different reason.
“What is it?” Her voice was quiet. She tried to capture his eyes once again.
He did meet her eyes then. There was sadness there. “Katherine, they’ve quarantined the clinic. There’s typhoid in town.”
“Typhoid?” She felt the blood drain from her face. What would become of Cripple Creek? What would happen to Wyatt? She shook her head. What an odd thought to have. Besides, she didn’t care what happened to Wyatt. He left Ellie behind, maybe he deserved to suffer. That thought felt bitter and odd, as if it had come from somewhere outside of herself. And she wasn’t ready to accept it as hers.
Timothy’s voice brought her back to the present. “Yes, typhoid. So far, there’s just the one case. But, Wyatt is keeping him in the clinic and has quarantined the clinic and the man’s home.”
Nodding her understanding, she felt fear creep into the edges of her consciousness, threatening to close in like a vise. She had heard about typhoid outbreaks and how they had devastated towns.
“The mayor said we are to release the students and shut down the school until the typhoid is gone.”
Katherine nodded again, numbed. She could only imagine her school, touched by a plague. Her students . . .
“Katherine?” Timothy’s hand on her arm stirred her from her thoughts.
She brushed a tear away as it fell.
“Katie, it’s going to be okay. God will take care of us and the town. We just have to trust in Him.” He said all of this with a confidence she certainly didn’t feel as he pulled her into his arms.
She nodded against his shoulder, wishing her faith was that firm. Closing her eyes, she prayed a simple prayer. For the town, for the school, for more faith. But it didn’t change her fear. So she took what comfort she could from the strength of Timothy’s embrace.
He pulled back to look at her, rubbing her arms.
“I should get back to my students,” she said, reluctant to pull away from him. He had become an anchor for her. And she needed that now more than ever.
His eyes searched her face, his hands moved as if he would pull her into his chest once more, but he didn’t. “Come find me after you release your students. I’ll be at the church.”
“Wait,” she said as he turned to walk away. “What about your coat?” She began to work her arms out of the oversized sleeves.
“Bring it to me at the church.” A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Then you’ll have to come.”
Katherine nodded yet again, comforted by his warm presence but left longing as he walked away. She turned back toward the schoolhouse and sighed. This was not going to be an easy announcement.
* * *
Timothy gazed out at the congregation. His flock. What were they thinking? As a whole, they were seated and solemn. He had just delivered the final words of his thought-provoking message. Yet they remained as straight-faced as ever. The gloominess of the typhoid outbreak must weigh on their minds. Of this, he was certain. And all the more as it spread.
If only the early efforts to quarantine the clinic had been enough. They had not. The typhoid had already begun to spread and, since that time, seemed to have taken the town by storm.
It wasn’t long before the patients outnumbered the beds in the clinic. This presented a problem—one the town council was well aware of, but one they tried to conceal from the townspeople. No need to create further chaos and worry. Until now.
“Before I close, I want to thank everyone for coming out today,” Timothy said to the small gathering of people.
Many members of the normal congregation had fallen victim to the typhoid, and many others had quarantined themselves in their homes in an attempt to avoid the deadly disease. But these brave folks were in the house of worship this day in hopes they might beseech God to preserve them and heal their loved ones who had fallen ill.
“I know it’s not easy these days,” Timothy continued, “But Mayor Jacobs would like to speak now if you will afford him your attention for a few minutes.”
Timothy moved to the side as the mayor stood from where he sat in his pew and stepped onto the pulpit, replacing Timothy at the small podium.
Mayor Jacobs stood for a moment in silence, perhaps gathering his thoughts, perhaps letting the people have a moment to digest this alteration in their day. When he did speak, his voice was gentle and thick with emotion. One might suspect it to be politically motivated, but Timothy knew better. The mayor cared for the people of this town.
“Good people of Cripple Creek, I know these last days have been difficult. We have seen hardship and tragedy strike at our very hearts. And we mourn together for those who have been lost. And I am greatly troubled to share a terrible problem we are faced with. We have long since run out of space in the clinic for the sick.”
A collective intake of breath could be heard from among the congregation. And a few ladies pulled out their handkerchiefs. Timothy was tempted to step in and reassure them, but it was not his place to do so. Mayor Jacobs had the pulpit. He would be responsible for doing so.
“But do not fear,” Jacobs was quick to add. “We have a plan in place. Even now, the schoolhouse is being converted into a makeshift hospital. This will serve as overflow from the clinic and will be quarantined as well. Dr. Sullivan will oversee the healthcare of the patients in this makeshift hospital, but we are in need of a volunteer or two who will see to the daily needs and welfare of these patients.”
A flurry of whispering spread among the congregation. Who would volun
teer to work with the typhoid patients? Who would risk themselves? Timothy had the same thoughts. Who indeed would take on such a daunting task?
“I’m not asking for anyone to volunteer this minute, but it is our hope that in the next day or so some kindhearted soul will step forward. I thank you for your time and I wish you and your families good health and, if any are ill, I wish them quick recovery.”
The mayor stepped to the side, and Timothy resumed his place at the podium.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. You are dismissed. Go with God.”
Music burst from the piano as Timothy made his way down the lone aisle toward the exit. As was his custom, he positioned himself at the exit so he could speak with each person as they stepped out. After he passed to the back of the church, the members of the congregation stood and began to file out.
As Timothy touched the hands of each of his parishioners, it was as if he lived a lifetime of emotions in the span of just a few minutes. He comforted those who had lost loved ones, prayed briefly with those who had sick ones in quarantine, and shared hopes for continued health with those who had yet to be visited by the dreadful illness. It drained him, true, but it was his calling.
As the people made their way through the line, he began to think of Katherine. He had spotted her in the congregation. When would she pass through? Their last rendezvous had been weeks ago after he had alerted her about the typhoid. It had been as meaningful to him as any other, but abbreviated by the events of the day. Since then, they had been conscripted to brief encounters such as these. This plague had even seemed to steal the town’s Christmas and New Year’s celebrations from them. But he determined to make the most of them.
Yes, he always looked forward to seeing her smile after service. Never more so than today. And he was not disappointed. She stepped up to him in turn, her head down and her face drawn. Was something amiss? But as she drew near, she raised her face, catching his eyes and offering him a smile as she put forth her hand.
Clouded by his own emotions, he wanted to speak, yet no words came. There was only her smile and the simple contact of their hands. It refreshed him and filled him anew. Maybe, just maybe, he could manage whatever would come his way if she were by his side.
Her mouth parted and she spoke. But in the midst of his musings, he missed her words.
“I’m sorry, what?” he refocused his attention.
Then she said four words that caused his heart to sink.
“I want to volunteer.”
All he could do was look at her. What was she thinking? His mind became overwhelmed with a thousand thoughts. The loudest among them were of the dangers. What would he do if something happened to her? He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t risk her.
When he regained his wits, he pulled her closer, glancing around to make sure no one was looking their way. “Katie, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said, his voice quiet to ensure their privacy.
“And just why not?” She didn’t bother lowering her tone at all. Something akin to anger flashed across her face.
He cringed at her volume. And, though his thoughts ran a million miles a minute, and perhaps because of them, he couldn’t come up with any good reasons for her to not volunteer. Except for one perhaps rather selfish reason. “Because I don’t want you anywhere near this plague.”
Her features softened for a moment. “I understand your concern, Timothy. But I need to do whatever I can to help these sick people.”
“Your heart is in the right place . . . ” Why couldn’t he find any reason to dissuade her? His eyes searched hers. What he found there was determination. “Is there nothing I can say that will deter you?”
She shook her head. “My mind is made up.”
Timothy could find no reason to deny her. “Let’s go talk to Wyatt then.”
Maybe he can talk some sense into you. It was rather doubtful Wyatt would allow Katherine to take on such a formidable task.
Grasping her hand, Timothy led Katherine away from the church and into the churchyard. There, among the people who milled about after the service chatting amongst themselves, they found Wyatt. He conversed with the mayor while Betsy Calloway looked on. Timothy brought Katherine up to the small group, interrupting their discourse.
“Wyatt, John, Betsy,” Timothy nodded to each in turn.
They greeted him and Katherine, making vague comments about the sermon.
Timothy waved them off, too distracted. “Wyatt, we have our first volunteer to mind the schoolhouse and tend to the patients there.”
“Who?” Wyatt’s eyes widened and his brows shot up. The council had serious doubts anyone would volunteer at all, much less so quickly.
Timothy tilted his head toward Katherine.
Wyatt’s features twisted.
Betsy made a noise that sounded like a snort.
Just the reactions he expected. Wyatt would not allow it. And he would be safe from having to let Katherine down himself.
“We are, of course, thankful for your willingness to help, Miss Matthews,” Mayor Jacobs spoke up. “But are you quite sure you are prepared to take on the task of . . . ”
“I am, sir,” she interjected. Why was she so hasty? “I know this will entail a lot of unpleasantness, but I assure you, I am prepared.”
“I’m not so certain she is . . . ” Wyatt started, meeting Timothy’s eyes.
“I am so certain,” she said, her voice exuding confidence and the same determination Timothy had seen in her eyes.
Timothy prayed Wyatt wouldn’t accept it.
“How could you be?” Betsy challenged. “That will be no place for a lady.”
Wyatt met Katherine’s eyes. They stared each other down for a few moments.
“Please,” she said, her voice no longer bore the strength it had, but it was still firm. “Let me help.”
Timothy continued to pray, hoping Wyatt would refuse her, that he would tell her how crazy the whole idea was.
“All right,” Wyatt conceded. “We’ll have a trial run.”
Timothy’s eyes slid closed as his heart dropped into his stomach.
Chapter 4
David Matthews made his way home after another grueling day in the mines. Why had he ever chosen this occupation? He wondered this many times, but he dared not say it out loud. Certainly not after he made such a big to-do about following his own path and not stepping in to take over the ranch.
The mines were not a pleasant place. They were dark, damp, and cold, and except for the sounds of the other miners, they were lonely. He spent his time doing hard labor for decent pay and the long, laborious days wore on him. To top it off, it seemed things were going to change . . . for worse.
As he approached his home, he straightened his posture and tried to push these things to the back of his mind. Nothing would be gained by weighing down his family. He would have to talk with Mary about the changes coming. But that could wait until the children were tucked in. Right now, he needed to be the best father possible for those beautiful angels.
Stepping into the simple home, he set down his few things and took off his winter hat and coat. His arms spread wide to receive the small girl’s body that rushed toward him. Embracing his daughter close to himself, he gave her a quick tickle. She laughed and wiggled free from his grasp. Then he chased down his toddling son for a hug. This thrilled Peter to shrieks of joy. Holding the squirming child, David marveled anew at how full of life they were. Lives he was responsible for.
Once his kids were taken care of, he moved into the kitchen where his wife stood over the stove. Her eager eyes greeted him, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she said, absently stirring a pot of something that smelled so good it caused his stomach to grumble.
“It’s good to be home,” he said, smiling, wishing he could stay in this moment, drawing strength from the comfort he found in her eyes, in just holding her.
“Now go wash up for s
upper. You’re filthy,” she teased, swatting at his black-smeared hands. “It’ll be on the table any minute.”
His grin widened. “As the lady wishes.”
After he returned to the dining area, hands washed and face cleaned, they went through the motions of their family dinner. Then they moved on to their nighttime routines. Nightclothes, stories, and tuck-ins. All in all, it wasn’t long before Jessie and Peter were in their beds and on their way to dreamland.
And so they were left in peace and quiet. David sat in his favorite chair, smoking his pipe and relaxing while listening to the sounds of Mary finishing the dishes. He closed his eyes and relished every moment of being still and warm. If only it were possible to soak it all up and take it into that dark place with him. If only. Inhaling the lingering scents from dinner, which now mingled with the smell of his pipe, he felt his soul at rest.
But he could not remain in that peaceful place. A conversation was forthcoming. How was he going to tell Mary the news?
The clanging of dishes came to a stop. Her footsteps moved about the small space as she put the last dishes away. Only then did she come to sit in the chair next to him. Without a word, she reached for her knitting and began working the yarn.
They sat in silence for a few moments. He could not make himself speak. In the end, it was Mary who broke into the stillness.
“Have you heard the latest news on the typhoid plague?” Even as she spoke, she did not look up from her work.
He shook his head and then, realizing she could not see him, cleared his throat and said, “No, I have not.”
Mary had agreed to keep their children at home or at his parents’ house for the duration of the plague to avoid any chance encounter with anyone infected. And though he knew she hated to miss church services, she relented for the sake of their safety.
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