Miss Thorne Blossoms

by Jordan Bollinger

  "Now, stay calm," the doctor said, in a firm voice. "This morning I saw several children with scarlet fever, and their parents both were showing signs of coming down with it. The problem was I noticed several people at the party Saturday night with bright red cheeks—which is a classic symptom. I now have another patient—a Mr. Johnson, who lives alone—in the surgery. So, right now we're all right. The thing is, I'm afraid people are going to begin coming into town, or sending for me. And, we need to prepare for the deluge. So, anyone have an idea of where we can set up a makeshift hospital? By keeping the ill together and away from the healthy, we can hope to keep the problem to a minimum."

  Frank said, "What about the livery stable?"

  "Ah, no, sheriff," Dr. Thorne said. "I'm very much afraid that even this minor calamity will be too much for some people. And, I think we should reserve the stable for a morgue."

  "It's going to get that bad?" Meg asked.

  "I'm afraid so. Most people will be ill, but they'll get better. But, there will also be a number—the elderly and very young—that won't have the strength to survive. And, we must be prepared for that, as well," Victoria explained.

  Meg was standing in the doorway between the workshop and her living quarters, when she swung around and said, "What about Mr. Harding's building? At least the downstairs. He's not gotten any equipment yet."

  "True. And, he shouldn't object to helping the town's people. Not when he's planning on starting a business," Frank stated.

  "Well," Gus said, "why don't we go over together and speak to him? Surely he'll want to help."

  *****

  "What?" Brent Harding exclaimed, in an incredulous voice. "You want to bring diseased people into my building?"

  "It's nothing so dangerous to most. The doctor says it will be hardest on the very young and very old," Gus said in a placating tone to the would-be newspaper mogul.

  "No, you can't bring sick people here!" Harding with a note of panic. "I...I have...I have an inordinate fear of illnesses—of any kind. Just go away and leave me alone. Mr. Lee and I will stay inside my building and wait it out—upstairs. Now, please go!"

  "Mr. Harding," Frank began in a calm voice, "around here, people pitch in and pull together. You refusing us the use of your building is bad enough. If people notice you are remaining clear of everything—altogether—they will remember. And, I won't care to make a bet about how successful your newspaper will be whenever you get around to actually publishing it."

  "Are you threatening me, sheriff?"

  "No, of course not. I'm just stating a fact. And, if you believe no one will notice your complete absence from the situation, you're sadly mistaken."

  Gus stepped forward, put up his hand, and asked, "What about this? Would you be willing to store some furniture in one of these empty rooms?"

  "Furniture?" Harding repeated, looking from Gunderson to the sheriff.

  "Yes. The spinning wheels, dress forms, and chairs—mainly. And the pieces of the looms. But, it will take us a little time to disassemble them."

  "Just furniture?"

  "Yes.

  "Well," Harding began, "I suppose furniture would be all right. But, I'll not help, or allow Mr. Lee to. In fact, I won't even stay down here while you bring things in. I'll leave the front door unlocked, but I'm going upstairs and staying there." And he moved towards the stairs, favoring his hip.

  "Well," Gus said, "that was odd. I don't understand how the man believes he can merely remove himself from everything and still start a business."

  "Still, it was quick thinking to at least get some use from the man. Well, at least his building," Frank said, as they walked to the construction site.

  "Neil!" Gus called out.

  After a moment, his popped up from the large, looming hole in the ground and asked, "What? Who's calling me?"

  "I need you to help me with something. If we need more men, we'll come back and get them. But, for now, they need to continue what they're doing," Gus told him.

  "All right," he answered, as he scrambled from the hole. "What do you need?"

  "I need you, and your expertise, to help me dismantle the floor loom. Luckily Eva was wrapping a new warp. So, it's empty, and won't be too hard to take down. We'll probably need more man-power to carry the larger pieces over to Harding's newspaper office," Gus told him, with scorn in his voice.

  "But I thought I was going to help you?" Frank protested.

  "No," Gus told him. "I think you need to go talk to the mayor."

  "He's out of town," Frank said, with disgust. "And, I don't think he's supposed to be back for another week."

  Neil tried to break in, "Okay, but—"

  "We have a mild to medium medical emergency and need to prepare a place for the sick. Harding refused to allow us to use the first floor of his precious building for a hospital. Claims he's scared of sickness. But, he did agree, at least, to allow us to store the furniture from the workshop in one of the larger, downstairs rooms. So, we'll empty out as much of the workshop as we can and turn it into our makeshift hospital."

  "Frank, with the mayor gone, you should probably talk to as many of the town council members as you can find. Explain the situation and warn them the town should be prepared to come up with some funds, eventually. Then stop at the mercantile and tell them we'll be needing some supplies."

  They were halfway across the street, when Gus stopped, turned around and bellowed again, "Josh!"

  "Yes, boss," said a dirt encrusted face that emerged from an edge of the hole.

  "I need you to do a couple of things for me. First, ride out to the spread and tell Ma we're going to be needing all the mattresses and bedding she can gather up. And food—soups, egg custards—whatever she thinks is good for sick people.

  "Then run out to the Johnson farm and take care of his stock. He's in the surgery sick. And finally, when you get back, go to the livery stable..." Gus went quiet, for a moment, and then said, "No, never mind. I'll take care of that. You just go along and take care of those other things for me."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Once Gus and Neil had dismantled the big floor loom, and decided the smaller loom could be safely carried across the street intact, he left Neil to supervise the rest of the move. And he went to speak to Jack, the livery stable owner.

  "You want to what?" Jack gasped, after Gus explained the reason for his visit.

  "Now, stay calm. From what the doctor says, she doesn't expect a lot of bodies. I bet one stall would be more than large enough to deal with any. Perhaps, there's one back in a corner. You know, where no one would notice anything out of the ordinary. It's extremely important that we don't start a panic."

  "Yes. All right," Jack said, "I'll clear out the foaling stall in the corner for you. And, don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything."

  "Well, yes. But," Gus added, "if you notice someone who seems ill, has a rash, or bright red cheeks, send them to the workshop. That's where we're setting up a hospital. And, it's where the doctor will be."

  "That man, Harding, is a strange one," Josh said when he returned for another load of spinning wheels. "As soon as we entered the building and called upstairs that we were beginning to bring things in, he hollered back down that he was locking the door at the top of the stairs, wasn't coming down for any reason, and wouldn't be responsible for anything that might be damaged or stolen."

  "Really," Gus said, frowning. "As much as I hate the idea of making you stay there, perhaps it's wiser if we keep watch over the things we store there—as well as the lumber on the building lot next door. I don't know what things have come to when we have to have people acting as watchdogs over things that should be perfectly safe.

  "First it was Neil having to stay over the surgery. Then you sleeping outside in the cold to protect lumber that should have been safe without a guard. And now, someone needs to babysit furniture in the empty floor of a building. What is this town coming to?"

  "It's all right, Gus. At least, I'll be stayi
ng inside tonight," Josh said, smiling. "Someone else can camp out beside the wood. But, I'd make sure he keeps that shotgun handy."

  "Yes, I'll assign someone else the job. Now, can you supervise the rest of the move? Perhaps, you should just stay over at Harding's place and oversee the storing. Try and keep the parts of the floor loom together. I'll make sure someone brings you some food and bedding, later."

  *****

  Victoria was standing at the door, when Gus returned to the workshop. She already dealt with the load of mattresses and blankets that were delivered.

  She'd also sent word for Ma to forget Gus' suggestion of egg custard and stick to the basics of chicken and beef soups. Eva and Kit were bringing things from the surgery, including the broths Kit started earlier, medical supplies, and their patient.

  He was soon settled on a mattress in the corner of the workroom now emptied of its original industry. He'd been given some soup, the doctor had examined him again, and told him to rest.

  "I'm sorry there's going to be so much commotion. But, we're expecting more people to come in sick. If the broth sits well, later we'll give you some oatmeal. At least," she finished up, "then you'll feel as though you've eaten."

  The doctor was just turning towards the living quarters when the front door opened and the family she'd seen earlier straggled in. The children were flushed and whining, and now their parents displayed the apple cheeks that were so common with scarlet fever.

  "I was afraid I'd see you all again," she said in a nonchalant voice. "Come on. We'll get the little ones settled, and then I'll look at you two."

  "You needn't bother," the mother said. "We've got the same sore throat and rash. And, I'm sure we all have a fever. Of the four of us," she continued, "I don't feel too badly. So, why not let me help you for a while?"

  She scanned the room and pointed at the pile of bedding, now so tall it was threatening to tip over. "I can at least distribute blankets and pillows on the mattresses."

  "Well," Dr. Thorne said, "as long as you promise to stop when you get tired, or feel like your fever has risen, or you feel dizzy. All right?"

  "Yes, doctor," the woman agreed.

  "Then, thank you. That will be a big help."

  One of Gus' workers came in carrying a washtub filled with tin plates, mugs, and spoons. "The mercantile sent these over. They were pretty sure you'd be needing them."

  "That's wonderful. I wonder if they have any metal pitchers and basins."

  "I'll ask when I go back for a basket of food—tins of crackers, tea, and sugar, as well as rice and oatmeal."

  Meg, meanwhile, pulled down a new bolt of white flannel and began ripping off strips about a foot long. Miranda took the strips and ripped them into squares.

  "Oh, good," Victoria told the women. "These will be perfect to wipe people's faces off. The best we can do is keep them as quiet and comfortable as possible, keep them drinking fluids and light food, and do our best preventing the children from scratching at their rashes.

  "Kit," the doctor said, "when the oatmeal arrives, take some and make it into a thin paste. Then pat it on the children's rash. That should help relieve some of the itching, so hopefully they'll be able to sleep."

  Frank came in leading several children and adults. When Victoria looked over at him, he said, "I found the Fords and the Richards waiting outside the surgery and brought them here. I'm going to put a sign on the surgery door that you are here on my way back to my office. Then I'm going to ride out to the Anderson's place," he announced. "They're older and neither of them is particularly well. And, Mrs. Anderson has always been very frail."

  "Thank you, sheriff."

  The doctor gestured to the first family group, saying, "Why don't you all go get settled over there," as she pointed to a row of mattresses against the wall. "I'll be right over to examine you, just as soon as I can find a place for the Richards."

  "Shouldn't we keep everyone together?" Meg asked.

  "No," Victoria said, shaking her head. "We might as well give them some space while we can. By this time tomorrow, we might be so full that everyone will be stepping on each other."

  "Do you think there will that many sick people?"

  "I hope not," the doctor answered, "but then it's better to be ready for the worst. Let's just hope that while we might have lots of patients, most won't be terribly ill. To be honest, I thought we'd have more people by now. Let's hope I've overreacted, and there won't be nearly as many patients as I feared."

  However, it was as if she'd cursed them, because now people were coming in and most had youngsters with them. Kit passed out cups of water, tea, or broth while Meg led people to mattresses. Then Eva came around with a basin of water and cool, wet cloths.

  Eventually, the sheriff returned, leading an ancient couple. And, while they both leaned on each other heavily, as well as on the sheriff, the old man didn't seem as ill.

  The doctor looked over the new patients and accessed the seriousness of their condition. However, rather than send them off to a specific corner—based on their state—to get settled on a makeshift bed, she allowed them to stay together.

  She already moved away when Mr. Anderson hobbled over to her and asked, "Is my wife going to die? It's all right. Please, just tell me the truth."

  After she let out a heavy sigh, the doctor answered, "I'm afraid so. I may be wrong. I hope I am. But, she's extremely weak and her fever is very high. You seem barely ill. Just go back to your wife, and keep talking to her. Try to keep her cool and comfortable. I think, if we can keep her alive until the morning, she has a fair chance. But, the next six or eight hours will be the test."

  He shook Victoria's hand and said, "Thank you for being honest with me. I'll do my best to talk to her, while I keep changing the wet cloths."

  By night fall, nearly all of the beds were filled.

  "Well," Dr. Thorne said, "I think that's it for tonight. I think anyone who was coming into town, is here. Eva, would you go around again and wring out everyone's cloths? Kit, will you reapply the oatmeal poultices to the children who seem to be the most uncomfortable? Miranda, if you and Meg pass out either tea or water, and crackers, broth, or oatmeal to those that are awake, I think we'll be good for the rest of the night."

  For the most part, the doctor was right. However, around midnight, one of the youngest children began choking and crying. And, once one child started crying, others followed.

  When Victoria went to the first child and picked him up, she was shocked how hot he felt.

  Kit had come from the living quarters as soon as the crying began, and went to where the doctor was and asked, "How can I help?"

  "Go into the back and fill a wash tub with cold water. I'll be right there with him." Then she lowered her voice, and added, "I'm afraid we're going to lose him. He's much too hot."

  "Well, we saved Miss Meg by holding her in a horse trough of ice water," Kit said, in a flat, matter-of-fact voice, before walking away.

  By the time Victoria carried the child to the back, and stripped off his little shirt and diaper, Kit had the washtub on a towel on the kitchen table, filled with water. And, there was a stack of more towels, as well as some flannel diapers Meg made.

  They plunged the little one into the water and held him tight. Meanwhile, Kit slowly poured water over the back of the baby's head. But, after more than an hour, he was still burning hot and his breathing had become very shallow.

  At some point Miranda had joined them and asked, "Will he be all right?"

  Before Victoria could answer, Kit shook her head and said, "No, ma'am. This little one ain't going to make it. The fever just took too strong a hold on him."

  "I'm afraid Kit's right," the doctor admitted. "If anything, his temperature has gone up—even with the cold bath. I think we'll keep him back here." She looked at Miranda and asked, "Would you mind just holding and rocking him for a while? I don't think it will be very long until...until he passes. I'd take him to his mother, but she's not much better, a
nd has finally fallen asleep. Her resting will give her a better chance to survive to care for her other children, than watching him die. But it will ease some of her grief to know her baby wasn't left alone at the end."

  Meg joined the others, and when the doctor looked up, she saw the tears welling up in both women's eyes. Only Kit remained calm and detached.

  "As harsh as this may sound," Victoria began, "it probably is for the best. I'm afraid his temperature has been so high for so long that it's affected his brain. He would have most likely be simple-minded and have health problems the rest of his life."

  Miranda only rocked the baby about half an hour when the infant gave a wheezing cough and went still, quiet. Kit took the child away, wrapped him in a blanket, and disappeared.

  Meg brought Miranda a cup of tea while Victoria squatted down in front of the rocker, placed her hand over the other woman's, and whispered, "He's at peace now, Miranda. And, you soothed him at the end. Be comforted by that."

  Gus entered the makeshift hospital just after dawn. "How is it going?" he asked, in a low voice.

  "We're all right," Dr. Thorne answered. "We lost Mrs. Anderson about an hour ago. But, Mr. Anderson was prepared for it. And, he's doing very well—all things considered."

  "Well, I'll get someone to carry her over to the livery stable. Is there anything I can do to help you all, after that?"

  "I'd like someone to ride out and check on the Williams," Victoria answered. "They weren't at the party Saturday night, so hopefully, they've not been exposed. But, if one of them becomes ill, I'm not sure either could deal with a sick spouse and newborn twins."

  "I'll ride out. But," Gus told her, "I will keep my distance—and just find out how they're fairing. Then I'll come back here. Ma is sending in another load of food. Someone will be bringing that in soon. However, first I'm going to check on the lumber and the things we stored at Harding's. I also want to make sure that Neil's all right. I don't know why, but I just have a bad feeling. Something besides the epidemic is going on."

  Meg walked over to the two, just as he said this last, and she groaned, "Lord, Gus. Please don't even think that. I feel as though Manchester is crumbling down around us, as it is."