Despite the cool water, Rachel’s skin felt warm. Laura laid her hand on the child’s forehead. It was hot.
“Do you hurt anywhere, sweetheart?”
There was no response to her question.
“How about you sleep with me tonight?”
Rachel nodded, her eyes already droopy with sleep.
* * * * *
Later that night Laura woke hot and sweaty. She reached a hand to feel Rachel’s forehead again. This time the little girl raged with fever. Laura climbed out of bed and lit the bedside lamp.
Spots covered Rachel’s face and neck.
Dear God. Measles.
Chapter Eight
“How long has she been feverish, Mrs. Cantrell?” Dr. Dawson drew the covers up around Rachel and stepped away from the bed.
Laura followed him to the dresser near the doorway. “The fever started yesterday evening about supper time. She broke out in the rash during the night. Nathan is away right now, so I had to wait for Billy to come by this evening before I could send for you.” She wrung the towel clutched in her hand. “I’ve tried to keep her as cool as possible, with cold towels and sips of willow bark tea.”
“Very good. You’re doing a fine job with her and not just today. Last time she was sick, she screamed every time I came near her.” He closed his black bag, then ushered Laura down the stairs. “If she starts to cough or can’t keep any fluids down, send one of Sarah’s boys for me again. I’ll try to get here if I can, but I’m afraid Rachel isn’t the only one to come down with the measles.”
“Other children are getting sick?”
“Not just children. Adults are coming down with it too. I’m afraid if this keeps up, I might have an epidemic on my hands.” He shrugged on his coat and reached for his hat. “If you start to feel sick, I want you and Rachel to both come into town. I won’t be able to help you out here.”
Laura smiled for the first time since Rachel became ill. “There’s no reason to worry about me, Doctor. I had the measles as a child and a few year ago I nursed several of our boarders who came down with them. I wasn’t sick a day.”
The doctor patted her on the shoulder then stepped out onto the porch. “Good. You’ll be one less patient for me to worry over. Keep in mind, if Rachel worsens I want to see her again.”
Laura waved to him as he turned the buggy and headed down the snow-covered path into the dark night. Shivering, she stepped back into the warm kitchen. She poured another cup of tea then banked the coals in the bottom of the stove and the fireplace for the night.
Despite what Nathan said, she’d paid the doctor from her own money for coming to see Rachel. She might as well use it for that, since she’d also paid Billy and Tom Jr. for helping her with the chores again this evening. Of course she made sure they all thought her husband had left her the money for just such an emergency. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Upstairs, she crawled into bed next to Rachel. She laid her hand on the little girl’s forehead. It felt a little cooler. She lifted Rachel up a little and held the teacup next to her lips.
“Here, sweetheart, take another sip of tea for me.”
Rachel drank nearly half the cup of tea, then turned her head to signal she didn’t want any more.
Laura laid her back into the covers and tucked the quilt around her and her rag doll. Then she picked up her favorite volume of Jane Austin’s book Pride and Prejudice and turned to where she’d stopped reading several nights before. After several attempts to immerse herself in the story, she put the book aside.
She wished Nathan were here. Was he well? Had he succumbed to the measles also?
* * * * *
It was a long week, but finally Rachel’s fever broke and the rash covering her body from her head to her feet slowly started to fade. Another snowfall covered the ground, but Laura managed to make a path to the barn and the creek. She’d just finished the morning milking and was carrying the pail of milk up the porch stairs when a wagon came lumbering down the road.
She set the pail inside then pulled her scarf tight over her head, waiting to see who was driving the wagon. The telltale red hair sticking out beneath the edges of the felt hat made her smile. She’d know Sarah’s sons anywhere.
“Tom? I’ve already done the chores this morning.”
“Miz Cantrell, I didn’t come to do no chores,” he said, stopping the wagon. He hopped down and hustled up the steps beside her. “Doc Dawson sent me to get you.”
“To get me?” Laura opened the door and led Tom inside.
“Yes, ma’am. Said he needed you to come to town. He’s got the measles same as everyone else. My ma is trying to take care of people, but Belle is really sick so the doc wants you to come. Said you’d know what needs doin’.”
I’m trusting you and my daughter to be here when I get back. Nathan’s words ringing in her ears, Laura looked around the cozy kitchen. “Tom, I can’t leave the farm, Nathan’s depending on me to take care of things.”
“Billy and I’ll see things are done ’round here, ma’am. Please come.”
Laura hesitated a fraction of a second more then made her decision. “All right. Can you put this pail of milk in your wagon? It’ll just spoil here. We might as well take it to your mother. I’ll go and pack up Rachel and our things.”
They arrived at Sarah’s within the hour.
Sarah met them with a frazzled hello, then hustled them into her cabin. “Oh honey, Doc Dawson and I didn’t know what else to do. He thought he was gonna be okay, but he’s got the fever now too.”
“How many people are sick?” Laura looked around the cabin where four children lay on pallets. She recognized Sarah’s two daughters, Evie and Belle. She wondered to whom the other little girl and boy belonged.
“Most of the children have been through it. The Trainers lost one boy, and the Hillmans’ daughters both died.” Sarah shook her head. “Now it’s getting the adults. Pastor Abernathey’s mother passed away last night.”
“Are they all scattered about town?” Good Lord, she didn’t have any idea who lived where or how to find them.
Sarah must’ve read her mind. “Not to fret, honey. Doc sent Frank out to bring the really sick ones to the church. He figures you’ll need to keep them close together to take care of all of them. That’s why Frank’s little ones are here with mine.”
That explained the extra two children on Sarah’s floor. “Can I leave Rachel here with you and have Tom drive me to the church?”
She set Rachel down on the floor and removed her scarf and coat. The little girl inched closer to her legs.
“She’ll be just fine here with us. The young’uns are feeling a mite better today and little Rachel’ll be a nice entertainment for them.”
Laura knelt to talk to Rachel, who still stared off into space. “Rachel, Miss Sarah’s going to watch you for a while. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I promise I’ll be here to rock you to sleep tonight. Would you like that?”
Rachel blinked and slowly nodded.
“Do you want to go sit with Belle?”
This time Rachel didn’t respond. Instead, she walked over and patted the sick little girl on the head.
“Will you look at that?” Sarah stared at the sight in awe.
Tears welled up in Laura’s eyes. Each overture the little girl made to contact the people and the world around her overwhelmed her. Her reasons for coming to Colorado might’ve been self-serving—to hide from a killer—but maybe fate had planned for her to come and help this small child.
Before she let her emotions detour her from her mission she turned for the door. “I’ll be back this evening to tuck her in. And thank you for watching her, Sarah.”
“Honey, you don’t fret about her. She’ll be safe and sound here with me. And it’s the town who should be thanking you.”
Laura pulled her woolen scarf over her hair once more and wrapped it around her neck, then hugged Sarah before stepping back out into the cold. The streets were
barren. No one ventured out to stare at Laura this visit like they’d done the previous two times she’d been in the town. Between the most recent heavy snowfall and the devastating illness gripping it, the place felt like a ghost town.
Tom pulled up outside the church and helped Laura down from the wagon. Only a thin layer of snow lay on the steps to the entrance. Inside the building meant to bring comfort to the faithful sat dozens of people on hard wooden pews.
Laura looked about. “Where’s the wood-burning stove?”
“The pastor’s been asking for money to buy one for a couple of years now, Miz Cantrell. But we ain’t got one yet.”
The place felt as cold as a cemetery. And by the looks of things, if she didn’t do something quick, the place would soon become a morgue.
“Where’s Dr. Dawson?”
“He’s this way.” Tom led her to the front pew where several heads bent close together.
“Doctor?”
The usually robust man sat shivering, pale and rheumy-eyed with his wife, son and daughter huddled next to him.
“I’m sorry I had to send for you, Mrs. Cantrell.” He choked and coughed over the words.
“Don’t worry yourself over it, Doctor. I’ll be happy to do what I can. You just need to rest. And please call me Laura.” She smiled softly at the physician and his family, then looked back over the sea of illness flooding the church. “Is this everyone?”
Dr. Dawson shook his head, then hacked several more times. “When I suggested Frank bring the worst cases here for you to look after, I wasn’t aware how many had worsened in the past few days. I’m afraid there won’t be room.”
She searched the room until she found Frank helping an elderly lady into a pew near the rear door. Excusing herself from the doctor, she hurried to speak with Frank.
“This isn’t going to work, Mr. Jensen. There’s no heat and these people need someplace to lie down. The pews are screwed to the floor.”
The storekeeper nodded. “The ones here are only about half of those we need to get in to take care of. What do you want to do, Miz Cantrell?”
“Is there some other place large enough to house all the sick? One with heat? And maybe a kitchen to fix food and clean linen?”
Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully a moment. “Well, there is one place, but it won’t do.”
“Any place will be better than this one.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think the pastor or Nathan would agree with you on that. The only building big enough with heat and a kitchen would be the Golden Slipper Saloon.”
“How bad can it be, Mr. Jensen? If we leave the people here, too many will die.” She stalked past him to the door. “I suggest you take me to the saloon and let me see for myself.”
Frank rolled his eyes toward the ceiling then followed her out into the cold.
* * * * *
Bobby Bailey couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
A plump, conservatively dressed woman just walked into his saloon.
Curious, he stuck his cigar between his teeth and watched the lady stand just inside the door, looking around the main game parlor as if she were contemplating buying the place. Then to his surprise she walked to the bar—standing about a foot from him—removed her scarf from her shiny brown hair, pulled off her gloves and extended her hand.
“Mr. Bailey, I’m Laura Cantrell, Nathan’s wife.”
This woman looked nothing like Nathan’s last wife. Bobby puffed on his cigar a moment before taking it out with his left hand and shaking the woman’s hand with his right. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Cantrell?”
“I want your saloon, sir.”
He laughed. “Lady, it ain’t for sale.”
“I don’t want to buy it, Mr. Bailey. I need it. In case you hadn’t noticed there’s a measles epidemic in town. Right now, most of the sick are huddled in the cold church.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“If we don’t have a warm place to house and care for them, a lot of people will die.”
“Lady, those people you’ve got stuffed into that church wouldn’t give me or my girls the time of day.” He took another satisfying puff of his cigar. “I don’t give a hoot in hell if they all kick up their toes.”
The lady nodded. “I can understand that, sir. They’ve not been too kind toward my husband, his daughter or myself. And when the doctor sent for me to help, I almost said no.”
Surprised by her candor, Bobby took another look at the plain woman standing beside him. Now he knew what Nathan saw in her. She had backbone. “What changed your mind?”
“Two things. Doctor Dawson came and treated Nathan’s daughter the moment I sent for him. When I was told he too was ill, I knew I had to help.”
“What was the other reason?”
“If I said no just to spite those people who treated me so contemptuously, then I would be no better than them. ”
Loud, body-racking coughing sounded from overhead. Flora had come down with the fever two days ago, and it swept through his stable of girls by this morning. Maybe he could work this situation to his advantage.
“I like the way you think, Mrs. Cantrell. Suppose I decided to let you use my saloon. I’m gonna want some assurances my girls’ll get the same care you give the hoity-toity town folks.”
She smiled at him—a true, sincere smile that transformed her face beyond plain. “Of course. I’ll treat them with the same care I’ll give the others. Now may I see your ladies?”
He started to lead her upstairs when she stopped and turned to Frank Jensen and the Jones boy. “We’re going to need to move these tables out of the way. Then we can bring the people from the church here.”
“I’m willing to do whatever you think is best, Miz Cantrell,” the storekeeper answered. “But I doubt some of the people over at the church will want to come here, ma’am.”
“Then they’ll die, won’t they?” She turned away and climbed to the girls’ rooms without another word.
Bobby grinned and clamped his cigar between his teeth. He didn’t know whether to feel sorry for Nathan or be jealous of him. He’d married one hell of a woman this time!
* * * * *
A week later, Laura curled up in Sarah’s bed with Rachel tucked in beside her. Lifting a hank of her dark hair, she rubbed the silky strands between her fingers and listened to Rachel’s even breathing.
For days she’d done little more than wash dirty linens, clean sweat from the bodies of people she’d never met before and force willow bark tea and chicken broth down those who were alert enough to swallow. Spending some time with Rachel had been the one good part of her days since they’d come to town. Usually she rocked her or helped to feed her dinner. Tonight Sarah insisted she bathe Rachel and then both of them head off to bed for some much-needed sleep.
Today, five more adults had succumbed to the lung ague the doctor called pneumonia. That brought the total deaths from the epidemic to three children and twelve adults. Funny how an illness could be so devastating to a community and yet bring people closer together. The banker’s wife helped nurse a dying saloon girl through her last days. The saloonkeeper helped bury the pastor’s mother-in-law. And old Zeke held the doctor’s youngest child when she cried in the middle of the night after being told her mama had died.
There was good news, however. No new cases had shown up at the saloon in three days. The epidemic had ended. It also appeared that those who remained had survived the worst of the illness. Even Doctor Dawson was on the mend and able to help care for the patients, despite having lost his wife and one child.
“You’ve done a wonderful thing here, honey,” Sarah had said to her when she’d insisted she come spend the evening and night with Rachel. “No one can ask any more of you. Your little girl needs you now and you need the rest.”
She’d put up a moment of protest, but Frank, Mr. Bailey and the doctor had all agreed. Even the three saloon girls she’d cared for insisted she get some rest.
&nb
sp; “You was awful good to us, Miz Laura,” Flora said as she helped her on with her coat. “We’d all feel pure awful ifn’ you was to get sick or somethin’ from not restin’.”
Then she and the other girls hugged her.
Laura smiled at the memory. She’d come to know the saloon girls as women with kind hearts. As they’d healed they’d helped her care for the sick and dying. Once in a while she’d hear them talk of wanting a family and husband like hers.
Speaking of Nathan, was he ever coming home? He’d been gone a fortnight. No one had heard from him.
The worry over the sick had put him from her mind, but just barely. She missed him terribly—even his teasing.
Frank told her an old miner had come through town after the last snowfall. He’d said the upper passes were snowed-in and impassable. Was that why Nathan hadn’t come home? Was he safe? Was he injured or sick?
* * * * *
Just after noon, three weeks to the day he’d ridden away from home, Nathan wove his way through the evergreens and snow toward his farm. The last snowfall had trapped him in the cabin he and Micah built their first winter trapping in the mountains twelve years ago.
Dammit, that wasn’t the only reason he’d stayed away so long.
He’d hoped by now Laura would be exhausted from carrying all the burden of the farm and admit she needed him. If she did, then there was a chance he could convince her he wanted their marriage to be real in every sense of the word—not just for five years either.
Had she made any further progress with Rachel? Had his daughter spoken her first word yet?
He’d missed them both more than he wanted to admit, and now he wanted nothing more than them greeting him with open arms.
That image fresh in his mind, he led the horses past the upper pasture and down toward the farmhouse and barn. Just as he rounded the last curve he saw both Jones boys driving their wagon away from the farm.
What were they doing here?
He dismounted at the barn and unloaded his supplies from the packhorse. Then he led the two animals into the barn inside and stopped dead in his tracks.
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