The volume of the child’s cries dulled to whimpers.
Alana smiled at Mrs. Sanders. “Just a short massage like ye just saw can relax her.” She pulled the edges of the blanket snuggly up, over, and around the little body. “Swaddle her tightly, instead of loose like ye had her before. She’ll probably start crying again soon, unless she’s able to fall asleep. But even a few minutes of peace during the witching time is a godsend, aye?”
“Aye,” Mrs. Sanders echoed, accent and all.
“A hot water bottle on her stomach might help, although not too hot, mind ye. Just warm enough to feel good to yer fingertips. I’m sure Dr. Cameron will agree that weak chamomile tea will be good for her—calming. Cooled, of course.”
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” Mrs. Sanders asked in a self-condemning tone. “Chamomile is always so soothing. I’ll give your suggestions a try.”
“Yer a new mother. Experience comes with time. What I will tell ye is that this won’t last forever. Babes seem to grow out of colic by four months of age, if not sooner.” Alana laid the swaddled baby on her lap and rocked her from side to side. “See how she likes this?”
Mrs. Sanders watched her every move. “Thank you for your kindness to my dear Carol, Miss O’Donnell. May I call you Alana? Such a pretty name. And please call me Elizabeth.”
“I’d like that.” Warmth surged through her. No matter Elizabeth’s elegance and status, they were two women together forming the bonds of a potential friendship in their efforts to soothe a fractious child. As Carol remained calm, the strain eased from Elizabeth’s face.
“Now tell me about yourself, my dear Alana. It’s always so exciting to welcome another woman to Sweetwater Springs.”
“Two women. My twin sister Bridget remains at the Thompson ranch with our cousin Sally and her husband Harry O’Hanlon.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I haven’t met Sally, but I heard about her when Mrs. Thompson paid me a visit. Samantha has become a dear friend, and her husband brought her in the sleigh to see the new baby. We had a lovely, although too short, visit.”
“Sally is newly with child and isn’t feeling well.”
“I hadn’t heard, poor girl. I remember that time.” Elizabeth gave her daughter a Madonna smile. “Fussy baby and all, a child is worth all the sickness, discomfort, and pain. Such unimagined joy.”
I might never know. The thought tugged at Alana’s heart.
The two women fell into easy conversation, and, in the presence of Elizabeth’s genuine interest, Alana soon found herself sharing far more about her life in Ireland than she’d intended, especially about her disappointment with Timkin. She hadn’t confided this much in anyone, even her twin. Like with her crying spell, the release of talking to a sympathetic listener eased her heart.
The screaming from the inner room diminished to whimpers.
“Ah. Blessed silence.” Alana exchanged a grateful glance with Elizabeth. She tilted her head toward the hallway. “Best we go wait for the doctor.” Standing, she handed Carol back to her mother.
They moved into the hall and took a seat.
“Now, ye try rocking her on yer lap.”
Elizabeth kissed her daughter’s cheek before laying the baby on her lap and rocking her until Carol fell asleep.
The door to the doctor’s office opened, and a flock of children flew out, arms and mouths moving in excitement as they talked about the bug in Gordie’s ear. They tugged on coats, scarves, hats, and mittens. A plump mother followed, a toddler in her arms. She made clucking sounds and looked harried as she tried to herd her brood. Her brown hair straggled from a haphazard bun, and she’d buttoned the front of her plaid shirtwaist crookedly.
Alana stood and smiled at the mother before directing her attention at the boy in her arms. “Are ye all better, dearie?”
“Aye,” Dr. Cameron answered for the woman and child. “A bug had crawled into the laddie’s ear. I dropped in some mustard oil, and the wee beastie floated right out.”
The mother pulled an embarrassed face. “These children will be the death of me. I should have let them walk to school, even with the deep snow, for we ended up having to come here, anyway.” She shook her head in obvious annoyance. “I let them take Gordie to play in the barn, and he fell asleep in the hay.”
“Well, much better a bug than an ear infection,” Alana said in a practical tone. “Yer little man would be in pain for much longer, if that t’was the case.”
One of the older boys pulled on the woman’s arm. “Come on, Ma!”
The woman handed Gordie to the oldest girl and donned her outerwear before being swept through the back door by her boisterous brood, calling good-byes. Cold wind rushed in through the door. The last child slammed it shut.
Carol startled and let out a cry.
“That’s done it,” Alana muttered.
The doctor gestured to the office. “Come in, Elizabeth, and let me see to wee Carol. She sounds colicky, but I’d best examine her.” He glanced at Alana. “If you want to brew yourself some tea, you’ll find the tin clearly labeled in the cupboard next to the sink.”
“Thank you.” She wandered into the room and took a seat by the stove. She suspected Harry would soon return, and she’d better soak up the warmth while she could. Although Alana would have welcomed a cup of tea, she wasn’t about to go rummaging through another woman’s kitchen to make herself one.
In the hall, the office door opened. Alana heard footsteps and the sound of Dr. Cameron and Elizabeth talking, as little Carol cried.
Elizabeth was already bundled in her fur bonnet and coat and carrying her fussy baby when she stepped into the kitchen. “Thank you again, dear Alana. All my best to your aunt, and I hope to see you soon.”
Alana waved, but before she could say more, Elizabeth vanished, the sound of her footsteps hurrying across the boards.
Dr. Cameron entered the kitchen and sank wearily into a chair. “Times like this make me realize how much I take my dear wife for granted. Somehow, Alice always manages the chaos.” He leaned forward. “Now, lass. About your aunt…I saw her yesterday, and she is quite ill. Do you have much nursing experience?”
“Aye. My mother was a midwife and healer, and I learned from her which herbs and such to use, how to deliver babies, stitch up cuts, set broken bones, as well as how to keep an ailing body comfortable. After she passed six months ago, I continued her work with the villagers. I’ve brought along some herbs and tinctures, although not much compared to what I left behind.”
He let out a slow breath. “That relieves my mind, and we can always use more women with nursing experience here. Our community is quite spread out.”
“Dr. Cameron, would a carragheen tonic help my aunt? ’Tis good for what ails a body.”
He jerked up his chin and gave Alana a sharp look. “Did you bring some of the moss with you then, lass?”
“Aye.”
“Wonderful!” He rubbed his hands together. “Most American doctors would na know what to do with it.” His accent thickened. “But since I hale from the shores of the old country.…” He smiled, crinkling the care lines around his eyes.
She couldn’t help but smile back.
“Feeding Mrs. O’Donnell such a tonic would be the best cure I could recommend.” Dr. Cameron held up a hand in caution. “And, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how infectious influenza is. I have no wish for another outbreak of the illness. The last one did enough damage. By the grace of God, I only lost a few patients, although some had close calls.” His eyes looked tired. “Have the rest of the family take your tonic to stay healthy.” He eyed her and frowned. “And you as well, lass. Something tells me you’re not usually so thin. A long journey, eh?”
“Aye, Doctor.” Best he think that’s the reason.
“Now, your aunt had a good stock of chamomile, and I left instructions with your uncle to try to get three cups a day down her. ’Twill help with the aches and pains.”
“Ah, good,” A
lana said in relief. “I left all my chamomile with Sally to ease her morning sickness, for she hadn’t brought any with her when she married.”
He gave a wry shake of his head. “Newlyweds don’t usually consider illness when they’re setting up a household.”
Alana couldn’t help but think of the well-stocked medicine cupboard she’d once planned to take with her when she wed Timkin and moved to his home. Her heart ached. She hadn’t realized how much she’d woven her future around her beloved. I still have too many threads wrapped around him. Many are invisible to me until I inadvertently tug on one.
Alana wished she could cut herself free but figured each strand might have to break on its own. She forced her attention back to the conversation.
“I’d advise plenty of warm soup and bed rest. Your aunt is strongly-built, so….” Frowning, Dr. Cameron rubbed his chin. “The worst of the illness should run its course in the next week or….” The doctor didn’t preface his statement with, if your aunt survives. He didn’t have to.
Please, Lord, make me an instrument of Thy healing, she recited St. Francis of Assisi’s prayer, changing peace to healing to fit her aunt’s dire situation. Please may I help Aunt Henrietta pull through.
CHAPTER TWO
As Harry drove the sleigh away from Sweetwater Springs, heading toward the open prairie, Alana remained lost in thought, pondering her all-too-brief stay at Dr. Cameron’s. Elizabeth’s friendship and the gratitude the woman expressed had warmed Alana’s insides as much as sitting by the stove heated her outsides. Just remembering the encounter made her smile, and she hoped to see the woman and her child again.
Discussing medical matters with Dr. Cameron had been another treat, one unfortunately cut short by the arrival of Harry. If only I could assist Dr. Cameron with his practice. Imagining such a future made Alana’s hopes rise. I could learn much from him.
Her smile fled when Alana remembered that she and Bridget had no settled home. Of the two possibilities, neither the Thompson ranch nor the O’Donnell house on the prairie would be close enough to town for her to help the doctor with his patients.
Her spirits, briefly lifted from her encounter with Elizabeth and conversation with Dr. Cameron, returned to melancholy. Alana stared out over the vast cold prairie, blanketed with a heavy covering of snow—the bright whiteness foreign to her eyes after a lifetime of green. Once again her future looked as bleak as the horizon. Ahead of her, the only sign of human civilization—the tracks of sleigh runners and hoofprints from other travelers—seemed to go on forever with no destination in sight.
Dried grasses and the withered stalks of vegetation poked through the snow. White crystals dusted the brown branches of a fringe of trees marking a stream.
Out here, with the mountains distant, all she could see was the wide plain and the harsh blue sky dotted with wheeling black specks. She wondered what kind of birds they were.
Along the way, they drove by a few homesteads, located far apart. The thought of living so isolated—without nearby neighbors—made a lonely shiver rush down her spine.
As the day passed, the bright heavens faded to gray-blue. The rays streaming from the ball of the setting sun, just beginning to dip behind the distant peaks, reflected white and gold on streamers of clouds. They passed a placid stream, the shimmering golden light and clouds reflecting on the glassy surface—a beauty as different from her home near the shores of the Emerald Isles as could be.
“Next place is your uncle’s,” Harry tossed the statement over his shoulder.
Thank goodness! She watched two small structures grow ever larger, until they appeared as a house, barn, as well as some small outbuildings—a henhouse and privy, perhaps. Now that they were almost at their destination, Alana couldn’t help wondering what her relatives would think of her unexpected appearance. Her stomach roiled.
“Whoa, now.” Harry told the bay horse he’d switched to at the livery. He pulled up in front of a single-story house, which looked built of boards and some kind of mud bricks. Two small windows showed faint light within. The mud-brick and wood barn looked large enough to shelter a few animals. All was blanketed in white.
A boy, bundled against the cold and carrying a pail, trudged from the barn toward the house. He stopped and turned toward them, his free hand shading his eyes.
A bulldog charged the sleigh barking before being shushed. Then the boy must have recognized Harry, for he grinned, waved, and rushed toward the sleigh. Her cousin Charlie, she supposed, for he looked much like Sally.
A bearded man stepped out of the house, buttoning his coat as he moved. He hadn’t lingered inside to put on a hat or scarf, and his dark hair was the same shade as Alana’s da.
Charlie—who looked about thirteen or fourteen—stopped to pet the horse.
Uncle Rory headed toward them, a smile on his face. He pulled up short, apparently realizing the woman in the sleigh with Harry wasn’t his daughter Sally. His eyebrows rose. “And who have you brought me, then, Harry, me boy?” Without waiting for an answer, he stepped closer to Alana, studying her face.
Seeing her uncle caused her a pang of grief and a familiar tightening in her chest. He looked so like her da—his features more weathered and angular, perhaps, his hair threaded with gray but similar enough. And those blue O’Donnell eyes gave her an immediate feeling of familiarity…of kinship.
His mouth quirked into a crooked smile. “You have the look of an O’Donnell, mavoureen. Are you, perchance, one of my kin?” His years away from Ireland had smoothed off some of his accent.
“Aye, Uncle Rory,” she said, delighted by his instant recognition. “I’m Alana.”
“My brother’s girl!” His eyes sparkled. “Welcome you are, niece, to your American family.”
The affection in his expression and tone eased the tightness in her chest. Her stomach settled.
Her uncle extended a hand to help her out and then bundled her into a hug.
Enveloped in her uncle’s embrace, Alana let out a sigh from her very depths. I’m with family. The thought brought tears to her eyes. Without their mother and older sister, the twins had felt so alone.
Stepping back, her uncle touched her cheek. “I see my mother in your face, bless her dear soul. Aye, and you’ve the look of my daughters as well.” His sudden smile charmed her. “Beauties, all of you.”
“Thank ye, Uncle Rory.”
“Now remind me. Are you two years older than my Sally or three?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“Ah, three.” He gestured to the boy who was stroking the mare and talking rapidly to Harry. “Your cousin Charlie is horse mad. He’s over the moon that his sister married a cowboy. He’ll be chewing Harry’s ears off for a while.”
“A mere female cousin come from Ireland couldn’t possibly compare to a horse.”
Uncle Rory barked a laugh. “Right you are. But manners are important, too.” He guided her toward the boy. “Where are your mother and sisters?”
The pain of her losses stabbed through her, but she swallowed hard to give him the sad news. “Mama became ill and died six months ago.”
He made an exclamation and brushed a hand over his face. “Yer mother was the most beautiful girl for miles around, and my brother the lucky man who won her.” His accent was heavy, his tone thick with grief. “But had I been older, I’d have given him a challenge.” The faraway look in his eyes remained sad. “I know—” Rory tapped his head “—in here my brother has been gone these three years past. But in here—” he placed a hand over his heart. “Your father lives still at home with the beautiful wife and the three young daughters who brought him such joy.”
Alana’s eyes grew misty.
A look of horror dawned on his face. He dropped his hands. “Don’t tell me your sisters—”
“Nay, uncle,” Alana hastened to assure him. “Bridget is staying with Sally. And Catriona…” Guilt mingled with her sadness. Their sister’s elopement with a peddler had made the twins angry…u
ntil we left her behind, her whereabouts unknown. “She is married.” Or so we hope.
“Thanks be to God that you three are well. Now, tell me, niece, what brings you to these parts?
“I’ve nursing experience, and I’ve come to help care for Aunt Henrietta.”
His expression shifted into seriousness, and his eyes shadowed. “Then you’re doubly welcomed, mavoureen. We dearly miss our Sally at such a time. I’ve been seeing to Henrietta’s needs.” He dropped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Charlie has taken over my chores. My twins are managing the household as best they can, but they are only ten.”
Harry walked over to greet Rory. The two men shook hands.
With obvious reluctance, Charlie tore his gaze away from the horse. “Where’s your pinto, Harry?”
“Loper couldn’t be persuaded to pull the sleigh. I started out with James Whitson’s Appaloosa, and we switched horses at the livery in town. Bess, here, belongs to the livery. Can I count on you, Charlie, to do what needs to be done for her?” Harry patted the horse’s neck.
“Oh, yes!” A grin stretched the boy’s mouth.
Harry chuckled and glanced at Rory. “The Thompsons and Mrs. Toffels sent along enough food to feed an army.”
“’Tis kind of them.” Uncle Rory gestured toward the house. “Alana, go ahead inside and warm up. We’ll unload the sleigh.”
Glad to be out of the cold, she made a wide berth to avoid walking near the horse, pausing to give her hand to the bulldog to sniff.
“That ole boy is Sian,” her uncle called. “You can pet him. He’s friendly.”
“Hello, Sian.” She rubbed his head, then opened the door and stepped into the house. Inside, a main room combined a kitchen and living area. She inhaled the familiar smell of boiled cabbage and welcomed the warmth.
A girl, her hair in two braids, stood near a small stove, stirring a pot she could barely see over. A second girl peeled potatoes. Both looked at her with the eyes of her sisters and her father.
An Irish Blessing: The Irish Sisters Trilogy (Montana Sky Series) Page 2
