Thorns in Eden and The Everlasting Mountains

by RITA GERLACH

  “Not this time.”

  * * *

  Granite clouds swept over the horizon. The wind blew against Rebecah’s face, blowing back the hood of her gray cloak. She edged the mare to the post outside the Boyd’s house. A black sheet hung over the door to warn visitors that sickness lay within.

  Ice sickles hung from the porch. A dusting of snow on the roof stirred with the wind and fell like powder. Maddie alighted from the horse first, and then Rebecah. After she knocked several times, the door opened enough for Hilda to peer out.

  “We’re here to see Miss Theresa, Hilda.”

  Hilda put her hand up and shook her head. “I know ya came a long way, Mrs. Nash, but she’s too sick for me to let you in da house.”

  Nonetheless, Rebecah ignored her and stepped inside. Maddie followed. Mr. Boyd came out of his study and met her. He looked as though he had not slept in days.

  Rebecah drew off her cloak. “Maddie and I are here to help. Surely you would not send us back out into the cold.”

  He stared at her a moment, his face drawn and haggard. “No, Mrs. Nash, I wouldn’t. How kind of you and Maddie to come. I fear for my child. She is near death’s door.”

  “We will change that.” She pulled off her gloves and put them on a chair. “We will go up now, Mr. Boyd.”

  Inside Theresa’s room, red coals seethed and a gentle fire burned in the fireplace. Every breath was a struggle, hoarse, raw, and painful. Memories of Endfield Manor came back to Rebecah—the struggle to save Lady Kathryn and Lavinia, how she and March nursed them both, one dying, the other left to live to grieve the loss of a mother. This fever, however, was of a different plague, and Rebecah was requisite to rely on her intuition and Maddie’s experience.

  Hilda wrung her hands and stood at the foot of the bed. “She shakes all over with da chill.”

  Maddie pushed up her sleeves, dipped a cloth into the bowl of water beside the bed, and threw back the covers. She dapped Theresa’s face, ran the cloth along her arms and legs.

  Rebecah stared at Theresa. It worried her how deep the flush on her cheeks was, how heavy the beads of perspiration on her face, her chemise soaked through. “Mr. Boyd has reason to worry, Maddie. She is seriously ill, isn’t she?”

  Maddie shook her head. “This is a strong fever. But don’t fear. I know what to do.”

  From the pocket of her apron, Maddie removed a packet and handed it to Hilda. “Make tea out of this for Miss Theresa.”

  “What is it?” Rebecah asked.

  “Willow bark. I seen it cool a fever many times.”

  Maddie drew from her apron a jar of ointment and opened the lid. “This is scented with mint, eucalyptus oil, and camphor. It’ll break up the congestion.”

  She turned Theresa over and rubbed the ointment deep into Theresa’s back and then her chest. Her strong hands anointed Theresa in long, tender strokes as she hummed a hymn.

  With this done, Maddie and Rebecah dressed Theresa in a clean nightshift, and pulled the quilt over the girl. Hilda returned with the tea in a large ceramic mug and handed it to Rebecah. Rebecah spooned a little into Theresa’s mouth.

  Mr. Boyd stood by watching, his brow of furrow of worry. “I could not stay away. How is she?”

  Rebecah looked over at the anxious father. “Her fever has not yet broken. When was Dr. Cole here?”

  “Last night.” Boyd’s eyes never left his daughter’s face.

  “What did he say?”

  “That it is the same condition the other folks have. I’ve been up all night at her bedside fearing I would lose her. I’ve been in such despair.”

  His voice broke off and he started to tremble. Rebecah looked at his tired face, at the uncombed hair, and his gray eyes marked with dark circles. She stood and went to him.

  “Mr. Boyd, you’re in need of rest.”

  “How can I, ma’am, when she is my only child?”

  “You will do her no good if you fall ill yourself. I promise we will take good care of her while you sleep, and will wake you at the first sign of change.”

  “It is good of you,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “Hilda,” Rebecah waved her over. “Please help Mr. Boyd to bed.”

  Hilda gently led Mr. Boyd from the room. All night Rebecah and Maddie sat at Theresa’s bedside. At dawn her fever broke. An hour later, the church bells began tolling.

  “Do you hear the bells, Maddie?”

  “It ain’t Sunday.”

  “No. They ring because the town has made it through.” Smiling she turned and embraced the old woman. “All is well now.”

  * * *

  Nash rode Meteor down a trail leading to the acres belonging to Laurel Hill. His fields stood barren and windswept. The biting cold caused his leg to ache. He could not help but think of the warrior who had let loose that arrow upon him. Still, he refused to curse him, and instead accepted his lot.

  I hope Maddie has more of that liniment of hers. He rubbed his thigh with the palm of his hand.

  When he brought Meteor across a serpentine brook, deer sprung across the field. Juncos perched in the branches of the evergreens and tore pine seeds from the cones.

  He considered himself fortunate to have not seen a warrior out on patrol this time out. Settlers he and his men met along the way had not seen an Indian in a month, or any of Dunmore’s men, who could be as ruthless, and yet there hung a tenseness of danger in the air.

  His heart swelled to see the windows of his house shine in the sunlight. He sent out a whistle, the one she knew. He waited. Rebecah did not run out to greet him.

  Instead, Joab hurried as fast as his old legs could carry him from the barn. Hatless, he raised his hand and smiled.

  “Good to have you home, Mr. John. I’ve got a pot of stew shimmering.”

  “Sounds good, my friend. You’ve been well?”

  “I’m fit as a fiddle,” said Joab.

  Nash dismounted.

  Joab ran his hand over Meteor’s coat. “My, he needs a brushing down. His coat is thick with muck.”

  “I’ll groom him later. I’m tired.”

  He led Meteor to the barn and drew off the saddle. Joab filled a bucket with oats.

  “Everything alright here?” Nash asked.

  Joab patted his right ear. “Yes, I’ve been here all night, Mr. John.”

  He wished he could do something about Joab’s hearing, and felt sorry for the man. He leaned a little closer. “No, Joab. Is everything alright at home?”

  “Yes, but it’s been boring without you around.”

  Nash wondered why. There was plenty of work to do.

  After settling Meteor, he went to the house. “Rebecah,” he called. He set his pistol on the table and looked around. Her sewing basket sat beside her chair near the fireplace. A quilt she had stitched lay over the back of their settee. Joab had a fire going in the hearth and the room felt warm, but not warm enough without her.

  “Where’s my wife?” he said turning to Joab.

  Joab looked over at Nash as he closed the door. “She went into town to see Miss Boyd.”

  “Did she say for how long?”

  “She didn’t say when she’d be back.”

  Nash frowned. “I see. Well, ask Maddie to fix me a bowl of your stew…and some bread if we have it. I’m starved.”

  Joab shook his head. “She ain’t here either. Miss Rebecah took Maddie with her.”

  He was not worried. He expected her to visit friends in town and take Maddie along as a companion. She’d gone into town many times before. But disappointment filled him that she had not been home to greet him. His arms longed to hold her, feel her close against him, smell the lavender in her hair. He’d give her another few days, and then ride over to the Boyds’ and get her.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Are you alright, Maddie? Am I moving my horse too fast?” Rebecah said over her shoulder.

  “I’m just fine, Miss Rebecah. I’ll be glad to get home though.”

  “Me too. It
isn’t too far now.”

  They rode home under a thick gray sky. The wind grew stronger and constant, flushed her face, and passed through her gloves and cloak.

  “Miss Rebecah, there’s a mighty storm coming,” Maddie held tighter. “Maybe we need to turn back.”

  The temperature plunged as rapid as the wind blew, and the women shivered and wished for home. “We are closer to Laurel Hill. Don’t worry. We’ll be alright.”

  Snow began to fall fast, the kind her beloved had warned her about, snow that drove the cold to the marrow and brought a deceptive silence to the land. Spotting a notched tree trunk, she drew up her mare. The initials LH etched into the bark made her draw in a sigh of relief.

  “See those letters, Maddie?” She reached out and traced her fingers along them. “They stand for Laurel Hill.” Through the veil of snow, Rebecah looked toward a glowing light in the distance. “Look—there’s home.”

  Gray mountain stone stood out against the snow. Smoke curled from the chimney.

  Jack, you must be home. Please be there.

  Her horse flicked its ears with a snort and stomped its hoofs. Shaking the reins, Rebecah nudged her on. Drifting gray fog fell down the slopes and into the valley, and along with it the howl of a wolf. Maddie moaned. “Lord, have mercy on us. Wolves!”

  Rebecah looked up with a start. Starvation drove the wolves, and they barked and bayed. She should have brought a pistol with her.

  Fearing them, Maddie pressed her face against Rebecah’s back. “Watch over us, Lord Jesus,” Rebecah heard her whisper.

  The mare trudged down the hill. A shadow bounded forward against the white curtain of snow. The horse reared as a stag with great antlers bounded out of a thicket. The mare twisted and turned. Maddie fell from the horse’s back.

  “Maddie!”

  Rebecah tried to control the mare, but it reared and beat its hoofs. Her hands slipped from the reins. She twisted to ease the fall. She tried to get up, tried to reach, to brace herself. Then as she raised her head, she watched in horror as the mare galloped off, the reins dragging through the snow, its blonde mane whipping in the wind.

  “No! Come back!” she shouted.

  Maddie got to her feet. “Oh, Miss Rebecah. You hurt bad?”

  Rebecah fell back. Her vision blurred. Shaking with cold, she put her hand up to her head and found blood there. The wind blew hard and stung her face. From the thicket, two wolves raced after the stag, leaped through the snow in a blur of gray over the hilltop. But one turned back. Its eyes locked onto the women. It crouched and snarled, stalked forward and growled.

  The wind hit Rebecah like a fist to keep her down. Fear seized her, and she gasped. Maddie rushed back, grabbed a branch from the ground and swung it at the beast as it approached.

  “Ha! Get away! Get away!”

  She smacked the wolf’s jaw. It yelped and raced off.

  “It’s alright, Miss Rebecah. He won’t be back.”

  Against the wind, in each other’s arms, the women headed toward Laurel Hill. Maddie hummed and sang as they went forward.

  “I’m goin’ through the wilderness. Yes, my Lord and me. Cross the river and the valley. My sweet Jesus and me.”

  Like a fire kindled in her bones, the words to the old spiritual moved Rebecah. She gazed down the hill at the house. Mustering the air in her lungs, she called out. Would he hear her over the din of the wind?

  She stumbled forward. Her cloak caught something buried in the snow. She pulled at it and it tore. Tears swelled in her eyes, drifted along her cheeks, turning to ice crystals.

  It could not happen. Not now. A cramp—it surged through her belly. She doubled over. Shocked, Maddie drew her close.

  “Hold on to me, Miss Rebecah,” Maddie cried. “Don’t you let go!

  * * *

  Nash shot up from his chair. A moaning on the wind, he thought he heard her voice calling to him. A horse neighed. He rushed to open the door. Her mare!

  Fear shook him, froze him in place. Rebecah was nowhere to be seen. But there stood her horse saddled and bridled without a rider, snow encrusted upon its coat and mane, its eyes wide and weary.

  Joab drew up beside him. “It’s Miss Rebecah’s horse. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find her.” Nash grabbed his hat and coat, and plunged out into the storm. Thrusting his boot into the stirrup, he mounted the horse. He followed the mare’s tracks. A little ways and he stopped, cupped his hands over his mouth and called her name.

  Climbing the hill, the snow drifted behind him. When he reached the top, he saw the women. Rebecah was on the ground, Maddie trying to lift her.

  He dug his heels into the mare’s ribs and the horse plunged through the mounting snow. Vaulting from the saddle, he gathered Rebecah into his arms. Snow caked her lashes. Her lips were blue.

  “We were thrown. A stag came running, and then…there were wolves…,” Maddie said swallowing hard. “I smacked one of them good, Mr. John. But poor Miss Rebecah.”

  “You’re very brave, Maddie.”

  “Miss Rebecah, she’s not good at all.”

  “We must hurry. You ride. I’ll carry her.”

  “I tried to lift her, Mr. John…”

  “It’s alright, Maddie.”

  His heart trembled, fearing the cold had gone straight through her, fearing he might lose the love of his life.

  He held her tight against him, trudged through the blinding sleet toward the house where the glow of the hearth fire reddened the windows.

  Inside their room, a flood of firelight poured over the walls. The air had an icy scent, and the fire added the smell of cedar.

  Nash crawled in beside Rebecah to warm her body, pulling her up against him and wrapping his arms around her beneath the blankets. It was around seven in the morning when he rose and changed his clothes. He stood at the window, looked at the snow-covered land.

  “Jack?” Her quiet voice stirred him and he turned.

  “Lay still, my love,” he said, moving beside her. His fingers caressed her hair, and he leaned over to kiss her forehead.

  “You found me. Oh, my love, you found me and Maddie.” Easing against him, her eyes glowed. Part of him was angry for what she had done. The other could not blame her compassionate impulses.

  She touched his face. “Are you cross with me?”

  He traced her nose. “I should be.”

  “I would not blame you if you were.”

  “I could have lost you. You could have died out there.” It was his greatest fear—losing her.

  With a cry, she placed her arms around his neck. “I had to go when word came that Theresa was sick.”

  “I know, my love.”

  “And when her fever broke, and she was out of danger, Maddie and I had to come home.” She moaned and drew up her knees. “Something is wrong. Oh, it hurts.”

  He laid her back. “Where?” He ran his hands over her, desperate to understand, to know what to do.

  “Oh, Jack. Find Maddie.”

  He rushed to the door and opened it. “Maddie! Come quick. Miss Rebecah needs you.”

  Maddie’s footsteps could be heard rushing up the staircase. When she entered the room, she moved Nash back and he listened to her speak gently to Rebecah.

  “What can I do,” he said, his body stiff with worry.

  “Nothing you can do. Mr. John.”

  He stared at his wife as she curled up in pain.

  Maddie put her hand on his arm. “You don’t know, do you?”

  He shook his head. “Know what?”

  “Miss Rebecah is losing a child.”

  A heavy breath passed through his lips. “I…did not know. Why didn’t you tell me, my darling?” And he sunk to his knees, picked up her hand, and pressed it to his lips.

  “You’ve got to let me help her,” Maddie said. “I know what to do. Have Joab boil some water and bring it up here.”

  He stood, watched Maddie draw back the covers. On Rebecah’s w
hite shift was blood. “Rebecah?” He grabbed Maddie’s arm. “She’s dying!”

  “You go on now, Mr. John. Do as I asked.”

  “Yes,” he murmured, turning out the door, his hands flexing in and out, beads of sweat forming on his brow. It was bad enough knowing they would lose their first child. But the thought he might lose her too caused his heart to beat like a hammer.

  Please, God. Let her live.

  He ran down the stairs, found Joab in the kitchen, gave him instructions, and returned to the staircase. Before he climbed it, he glanced out the frosted glass by the front door, saw a blur of the mountains beyond his fields white and blue with snow.

  One retreat into those dark, sweet shadows with her, he thought. Just one! What care did he have for governors or kings, warriors or Redcoats now? All that mattered was the woman he loved.

  * * *

  Rebecah’s eyes fluttered open. She turned her head, and through their window, she watched the snow tumble off the evergreen boughs on the hill. She ran her hand along her belly, knowing what had happened. A feeling of emptiness filled her. A part of her was gone. It was unexpected. She did not want this. It had been too early to tell him. What had she done wrong?

  “Rest easy, Miss Rebecah,” Maddie said.

  “My babe?”

  “Yes…gone, Miss Rebecah.”

  “Why, Maddie?”

  “Not your fault. Blame it on that mangy wolf. He scared your horse and you were thrown. That’s all it took.”

  Downstairs the door opened and shut. Footsteps tread the stairs. Maddie stood from the rocking chair at the bedside and opened the door.

  Nash came in and moved aside to allow a man older than he to enter. Rebecah kept her eyes on Nash. His face was flushed from the cold, his eyes full of sadness.

  “Rebecah, my love,” he said. “This is Dr. Pierce. He’s come to inquire after you.”

  “You must forgive me,” the doctor smiled, “for not having brought Dr. Cole. He is indisposed with several of the townspeople.”

  He drew off his heavy coat and handed it to Joab. “I arrived yesterday. Dr. Cole sent for me. The epidemic was too much for one man. How are you feeling Mrs. Nash?”