by Holly Bush
“We must break this fever. I’m going to hold you up, and I want you to sip on this tea. It does not taste good, but it will help you.”
Melinda’s shoulders felt bony and limp as Jolene slid one arm under her and tilted her upright. She held the tea cup to Melinda’s parched lips and coaxed her to drink, but Melinda was slack in her arms. Jolene dribbled small amounts of the tea into her mouth, hoping that some of it would stay down until it got into her blood. She laid her down on her pillows and sat down on the chair beside the bed.
Jolene dozed, her head in her hand, propped on the arm of the chair she sat in, and had strange, frightening dreams of Maximillian begging her for water and Melinda running to her. Just as she thought she was awake, she would see herself sitting in the chair beside Melinda’s bed, know she was still dreaming, and try to climb her way back to consciousness, but she couldn’t. Images flashed in her mind of Willow Tree and Landonmore and Turner swinging from the chandelier in her sitting room. She saw Little William jumping and running and reached for him, but she fell, and was finally awakened as her elbow slid from the arm of the chair.
Jolene glanced at the watch pinned to her blouse, realizing she’d slept over an hour. She jumped up and leaned over the bed. Melinda had kicked off her quilts and was thrashing, her head fitfully moving from side to side. Her skin was gray in the light, and her lip had cracked and was bleeding. Jolene heard a knock and Maria came in the room.
“Here is fresh willow bark tea, Mrs. Shelby. And cold lemon water for you. How is she?”
“Not good, I’m afraid. Do you have time to help me change these sheets? They are soaked in sweat.”
Jolene gulped the cold drink while Maria went for clean linen. The two women, working from both sides of the bed, got Melinda moved on to the clean sheets and put a fresh, dry nightgown on her. Melinda’s eyes did not open, and she had stopped her thrashing. Jolene fluffed her pillows and tucked the quilts tight around her. Maria was staring at Melinda.
“She looks so small,” Maria said and looked up at Jolene. “It is more frightening when they stop fighting and fidgeting.”
Jolene nodded. “Yes. It is. It is infinitely more frightening to see them this way instead of thrashing around as she was doing a while ago.” She looked up at Maria. “Sometimes it means that they are slipping away.”
“Do not cry and do not think that way. You must not, Mrs. Shelby,” Maria said through trembling lips.
“You have seen it then, Maria. You know what I’m talking about.”
“I do,” Maria said.
“I will be with her, Maria,” she said and looked up at the woman. “It is a private time, but I will be with her if it happens.”
Jolene heard the door close and suddenly felt as if she was on a precipice with one foot on solid ground and one shaking foot in mid-air with nothing below it. She chaffed her arms and took deep bellowing breaths. She was actively trying to calm her racing mind and heart but could not. Jolene could not stop the panic that was surrounding her now, could not wrench herself free to rational thought. She was anxious to the point of being immobile, caught statue-like, staring at Melinda, knowing that she may, just may be, in the final moments of the girl’s short life.
Chapter Seventeen
It was near dinner time, but Max could not handle more than chewing on some dried beef. Although he mostly stayed clear of the dramatic, he could not stop himself from imagining the very worst - that he would arrive at the Hacienda and be faced with nothing but ghosts, that every living being would be gone, and that he would have the task of burying the dead and grieving. Max was not positive he could do it. He was not positive that he wouldn’t load his gun and put it in his mouth and end himself if he did find that grim scene in his head was real.
He knew he was only a few miles from home when he came upon the well-worn path from the Hacienda to Dallas. Max knew he would be home in less than a half an hour. He rounded the corner on the butte and saw a wagon and two horses coming at him full speed. His horse neighed and rose up on its hind legs.
“What the hell are you doing coming around a blind curve like this, you fool!” Max shouted as he got his mount under control.
The wagon didn’t come to a full halt, but the driver hollered as he went by. “I told that woman I wasn’t taking her to the door. I told her!”
“What are you talking about?” Max said as the wagon drove on.
“You’ll see soon enough!” the driver shouted over his shoulder.
Max kneed his horse onward and saw a speck of dark blue against the tan background of the path and the dark green of the grasses in the distance. As he came closer, he realized it was a person, a woman, standing in the middle of the path, holding a bag to her chest, with a trunk standing haphazardly on its end behind her. What a kind of a man left a woman standing alone in the middle of the range? He rode directly to her and she looked around wildly as if looking for a place to hide or a direction to run.
“No need to be afraid, ma’am,” he said as he approached. “Max Shelby’s my name, and I mean you no harm.”
The woman’s face was completely white with fear and she spoke barely above a whisper. “Max Shelby?”
Max jumped down from the saddle and tilted his hat. “Yes, ma’am.” The woman’s shoulders slumped and began to shake and he realized she was sobbing. “There’s no need to be afraid.” Then he took a second look at her. “Do I know you? You look very familiar.”
“Thank God, it is you, Mr. Shelby. I was completely convinced that I was going to die from exposure or be murdered,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “Jolene told me about you. I am her sister, Jennifer.”
“What happened? Why did the driver leave you?”
“I paid him all that I had left of my bill money. No one else would take me to your home. They said the Hacienda has the influenza.”
“It does. I was in Houston and got a telegram from my foreman but didn’t want to go into Dallas proper. I figured there would be chaos if it is as bad there as folks were saying.”
Jennifer shuddered. “Dallas was horrible. I’ve never seen anything to compare. People everywhere running and shoving. As soon as my maid realized there was influenza, she disappeared. I could not find her anywhere and imagine she boarded another train to get away.”
“There is a small cabin on my property that you may want to go to instead of being exposed to the flu. I can take you there until I see what is going on at the Hacienda. The cabin is fully stocked with provisions. You would be comfortable for a few days or even more.”
“No. I cannot allow Jolene to go through this again and do it alone. I will take my chances.”
“Again? Your family was touched by the influenza before?” Jennifer looked up at him sharply and was silent for a few moments as if digesting what he’d said.
“Yes.” But she didn’t say more. Just bent down and picked up her valise. “Which way are we going?”
Max pointed to a small rise. “Over that hill.” He hooked her valise on his saddle and pulled himself up. He reached a hand down. “This horse is tired, but we don’t have far to go. Give me your hand so you can ride in front of me. We’re going to have to leave your trunk.”
Max saw the Hacienda come into view and from far away, all looked right and normal. Except as he got closer, he saw chickens pecking in the grasses and steers wandering around the manicured patios and lawns. It’s what he would have done if there was no one to tend them and fill their boxes with grain and hay and corn. He got down from his horse, helped his sister-in-law, and looked at the door of his home.
Max was suddenly chilled, suspended and stranded, knowing something momentous or horrible was occurring inside, but without the ability to move his feet forward. He took a deep shuddering breath and realized there’d been a shift in his world and in the worlds beyond. Something his conscious being was unable to fathom, yet was completely true and real.
“Mr. Shelby?”
Max looked at the woman bes
ide him and was momentarily at a loss as to who she was. “Yes,” he said as he remembered everything that had brought him home. “What is it?”
“We must go in, Mr. Shelby.”
Max took her valise and opened the front door. The air smelled of medicines and felt still and stale. None of the drapes had been opened, yet it was nearly four in the afternoon. He heard movement from the hallway and saw Maria hurrying to him, crying his name.
“Mr. Shelby, oh, Mr. Shelby!” she said, wiping her face with her apron. She wore a piece of fabric around the lower part of her face that tied behind her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her face a mask of worry. She dropped to her knees in front of him. “You are here.”
Max knelt down on his haunches and pulled Maria up to face him. He searched her eyes. “Tell me, Maria. You must tell me.”
“We have lost good people, Mr. Shelby. Your wife has saved many of them, but she has not eaten nor slept for nearly three days now,” Maria took a deep breath and her lip trembled. “Our Melinda. She is sick, Mr. Shelby, and I fear the end is near,” she said in a halting whisper.
Max stood and turned to the grand staircase. He must see her, he thought, he must touch her, and he ran taking the stairs two at a time. Maria must be wrong! He stopped when he heard terrible screaming and shouting from above. It was Jolene, he realized, and she was shouting at Melinda. Max ran down the hallway and threw open the door to Melinda’s rooms. Jolene was beside the bed, her back to the door.
“I told you Melinda, I told you,” she shouted, and gestured wildly as she pulled the mask from her face. “That no matter how sick you were you must listen for my voice. Do you hear me?”
Max walked to the end of the bed and saw his daughter, his sweet girl, still and quiet, with her hands at her sides, her skin gray and sickly. He looked at Jolene as she picked up Melinda’s hand to chaff it and feel for a pulse.
“You are still with me, but barely, Melinda, I know you are, I can feel your heart beating. You must try, darling, you must fight your way to me,” Jolene said as she sobbed and kissed Melinda’s hand. “I have already lost one child, the love of my life, dear William. He was taken from me and I will not,” Jolene said and bent over Melinda, taking her shoulders in her hands. “I will not lose you, too,” she shouted.
Jennifer touched Jolene’s shoulder.
“Let me see to her, Jolene. Sit. You are exhausted,” Jennifer said.
Max dropped down in the chair beside Melinda’s bed and stroked his daughter’s hand. Jennifer was wiping her face with a rag as she crooned to her and told her that her mother and father were both here, and that they loved her very much. Tears he had not realized he shed dropped off his chin. How would he live without her?
Then he heard her whisper.
“Daddy?”
Max and Jolene jumped from their chairs and they watched as Melinda’s eyes fluttered open. “We’re here, darling. We love you,” he said.
“Jolene?”
“I am here, Melinda,” his wife said. “I am here. I have not left you.”
“Thirsty,” Melinda said.
Jenifer picked up his daughter’s head and held the glass to her lips. She felt Melinda’s forehead after the girl had taken a few sips. She looked up at Jolene and to Max. “I think her fever has broken.”
Jolene straightened, moaned, and crumbled to the floor in a faint.
“Take care of Jolene,” Jennifer said. “I will tend Melinda. Where is the bell pull if I need it?”
Max bent down on one knee and pulled Jolene into his arms. He carried her to her rooms, past piles of clothing and sheets that smelled sour and old. He saw Alice on the floor, leaning against the wall, her eyes closed and her head tilted to one side.
“Alice,” he said softly. “Can you open the door for me? Then you must go to bed.”
The maid woke with a start and jumped to her feet. “I am so sorry, Mr. Shelby.”
“There will be no apologizing, Alice,” he said. “Go right now and get in bed. Mrs. Shelby’s sister Jennifer is here, and I am home. We will carry the burden for a while.”
Alice nodded. “You should check on Mr. Moran. He was not well and is still in the bunkhouse.”
“Zeb?”
“He was very feverish when I came on the search of more clean bedding.”
Alice went through the door to her room, and Max laid down Jolene on her bed. He smoothed back her hair from her face, barely contained in a bun at the back of her neck. He unbuttoned her blouse and roused her enough to get her skirt undone and off. There was water in a basin on her wash stand that looked reasonably clean, and he wet a towel and wiped her face and hands. She was pale but breathing evenly when he pulled a soft blanket over her shoulders. He sat down on the chair near her bed.
Max was slowly digesting the last hour. He had lost people, he didn’t even know who yet, his home was in a shambles, and he did not know the extent of the losses to the livestock. But his daughter lived! He wondered if Jolene had willed Melinda back to this side of the heavens with just the sheer force of her character, he thought, and looked at his wife, now sleeping soundly.
And then he thought about what she had said.
I have already lost one child, the love of my life, dear William. He was taken from me, and I will not lose you, too.
Jolene had a son, one who had apparently died, a child that he never knew about. That knowledge explained much of why she held others at arm’s length. Why she smiled rarely, why he had yet to see her carefree and girlish. Max doubted he ever would. Jolene was still grieving, deeply grieving over a child she’d lost. He had no idea how to help her, as the thought of losing Melinda, had left him immobile and numb. What would he be doing if his daughter had just died while he held her hands? Would he ever, ever get over that grief?
Max wanted to be sympathetic to his wife, especially as he now recognized the depth of her pain, but he was struggling. Why would she not tell him this? Why when he asked her directly if all the secrets were in the open, why would she keep from him a detail that loomed so large in her life that she could not see her way past it? He didn’t know the answers to these questions and felt a deep sense of loss come over him. Jolene would never, ever return his love. She couldn’t, without betraying her grief, love another. Where he had been hopeful to build a slow, but loving relationship with her, it was now clear that she would never fully participate.
Max went back to Melinda’s room. He wanted to touch her and be assured that she was, in fact, on the mend.
“How is she?” he asked Jennifer.
“I believe she will be fine. She is sleeping now, but she said she is feeling hungry. I told her to nap, and I would see about some thin broth for her.”
“I want to stay with her for a while,” Max said and looked down at the bed. “But I don’t know what is going on in the rest of the house and my right-hand man, Zebidiah Moran, is in a bad way.”
“Stay here. I will see what is to be done and about having some broth sent here for when Melinda is awake,” Jennifer said.
“Thank you. I’m terrified to leave her for long.”
“Of course you are. My sister is lying down?”
“Yes,” Max said. He looked up then. “What happened?”
Jennifer stared at him for some time. “You didn’t know about William?”
“No,” he said. “I had no idea.”
“This is Jolene’s story to tell, and she particularly hates it when I interfere on her behalf. I believe she sees it as a sign of weakness to be beholden to anyone, let alone me, as I am just part of the wallpaper to her and Mother, rather than a living breathing member of the family.”
“Tell me anyway. Defy her and be a living breathing member of your family. She has no right to your memories.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Jennifer said and looked up at him. “You’d best sit down.”
* * *
Jolene sat up in bed and shouted. She shook her head and tried to clear her muddled thou
ghts. It was dark out, with stars shining, she could see. Where was Melinda? What had happened? Alice ran into her room, pulling her robe around her.
“Mrs. Shelby!” she said. “Are you alright?”
“I’ve got to see Melinda. I haven’t been there, and it’s been hours.”
“Melinda is fine. She made it through the worst of it. Go back to bed, Mrs. Shelby. I know you are exhausted.”
“You must be too, Alice. I will just see with my own eyes how she is doing and come straight back to bed,” Jolene said, and went out her bedroom door.
Jolene opened Melinda’s door slowly. She was lying on her side, sleeping soundly, and Jolene noticed the remnants of a tray with soup on the floor near the door. Maximillian sat on the chair beside the bed. He was looking at her.
“She is not feverish?”
He shook his head. “No. And I imagine that the reason she is still on this earth is from the extraordinary care you gave her. I am, and will always be, eternally grateful for what you have done.”
“Sometimes the very best of care is not enough.”
“Like the care you gave your son?”
Jolene’s skin went cold. “I suppose my sister . . .”
“You shouted his name when Melinda was near death, or even further. You said that you’d already lost one child and could not lose another. You said it, Jolene. Not your sister.”
“It is none of your concern,” she said. “I was hysterical, obviously.”
“No concern that my wife bore a child and lost him? No concern that I nearly had a son as well as a daughter?”
“You never knew him. And you couldn’t now. Let it go.”
Maximillian was staring at her. “I will let it go for now,” he whispered. “You are near complete exhaustion, and I can only thank you for what you have done for me and for Melinda and for how you handled the Hacienda and all the people who live and work here.”
