"God is not in the business of causing grief, Rocky, nor is it His job to keep us happy. He allows tragedy, but He certainly doesn't create it. Our responsibility is to trust that He has everything under control." He sat stone-faced, so she charged ahead. "If it's money you lack, well, I have plenty. I could..."
Despite the pain it must have caused, he jumped to his feet and brushed past her, knocking her slightly off kilter. "I'll make do with what I have in the bank, Mrs. Callahan. Don't be expecting me to take any handouts."
"Handouts? I'm your wife. What's mine is yours, and vice versa. That applies to whatever money I might have stored in a bank account."
He stopped midstride and turned, his eyes hooded like those of a hawk. "I didn't marry you for your money."
Now she felt her ire bump up in degrees. "I never thought you did."
For a moment, he studied her with curious intensity. "I'll manage."
"Fine."
"Fine," he said, making an abrupt turn.
When he started walking away, she said to the back of him, "Has it ever occurred to you that God might well be trying to get your attention?"
He slowly turned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Until you surrender everything into God's very capable hands, regardless of the circumstances, you'll continue to miss out on His marvelous blessings."
He flashed her a glacial stare, then shook his head and walked through the doorway.
"Uncle Rocky," came Rachel's wee voice. "I thought I heard you.
"Hey, sugar," Rocky said, walking over to the girl, who still lay half asleep on the sofa. "I'm glad you're okay."
Sarah observed from the bedroom door. It was the first time she'd ever heard him use any sort of endearment with the little girl.
"Thank you for saving me," Rachel whispered.
He bent just slightly at the waist so as to touch her forehead. "It was my pleasure," he whispered in return.
Then, just like that, he strolled across the room, heaved on his coat, and headed out the door.
Heavenly Father, Sarah prayed in earnest, open my husband's heart to Your divine truths.
Everyone managed to make it to the supper table that evening, Rachel surprisingly the most talkative, despite her bumps and bruises, Seth more introverted than usual.
"I thought I was gonna die in there, Uncle Rocky," Rachel said after swallowing several gulps of milk and setting down the glass. Her expressive blue eyes flashed with newfound admiration for the man who'd rescued her. Sarah's heart warmed to the sudden change, and she inwardly thanked God for the miracle.
"Not a chance," Rocky replied, taking small bites at a time, the burns along his jaw apparently making it difficult to chew. He looked exhausted, Sarah observed, but the set of his shoulders said he wouldn't be admitting it any time soon. She'd offered to bring a tray to his bed, but he wouldn't hear of it, claiming he felt better moving around. Sarah doubted the truth in that but refused to argue, especially considering their earlier exchange. He was a hard man, she mused, in more ways than one, and his first glimpse of the downed barn hadn't helped matters any.
"Why'd you come in after me?" she asked, obviously determined to press for details.
He stopped eating to look across the table at her, and didn't speak until she met his gaze. "I never gave it a second thought, Rachel. Sarah told me you were in there, and that was all I needed to hear."
"You mean Aunt Sarah. Me and Seth decided that since you're ar uncle we should think of her as ar aunt."
Rocky set his eyes on Sarah. "That's probably a good idea. After all, she is my wife." There was something about the way he claimed her with his eyes that made Sarah fidget.
"Well, anyway, I'd be dead if it weren't for you," she added between chews.
"Rachel, don't talk like that," Sarah said. "Neither your uncle nor Ben Broughton would have let that happen. Besides, the whole town was praying for your safety."
"How did the fire start?" Seth asked, finally joining in. He'd barely touched the food on his plate, making Sarah wonder if yesterday's events hadn't bothered him more than he let on.
"Mr. Thompson said someone must have accidentally kicked a lantern over, igniting a nearby hay bale. Everything happened so fast."
"I should have hung every lantern rather than placed some of them on tables. I don't know what I was thinking," Rocky said.
Sarah sensed deep regret in his voice. "It was an accident, Rocky," she assured him.
"If I'd planned more carefully, it wouldn't have happened."
"You didn't know, Uncle Rocky," Rachel offered. The girl's sudden compassion for the man she'd once disliked amazed Sarah. She wondered if Rocky sensed the dramatic change or spotted the respect and admiration in eyes that once held utter distrust.
Rocky looked at Rachel as if seeing her for the first time and gave a nod.
At the close of the meal, Rocky excused himself and headed for the bedroom, claiming utter fatigue. "Thank you for the use of the room, Sarah," he said without turning.
She studied the back of him, noting strong shoulders slightly slumped. "You're perfectly welcome," she replied. Sarah imagined that besides being exhausted, he suffered emotional pain. After all, he'd lost a great deal.
If only you would see what God can do through these difficult circumstances, she longed to say to him. However, her better judgment kept her mouth clamped shut. She'd probably said enough for one day. Best to let God take over where she'd left off.
Rachel meandered back to the lumpy sofa, exhaustion evident in her face.
"Would you like me to prepare a cool bath for you, honey?" Sarah asked. "I'm sure Seth wouldn't mind staying out here while you wash up. I'll get the tub ready in your bedroom and call you when it's time."
Baths, although a chore to set up, were a once a week arrangement, twice if Sarah had her way. And she suspected they would be more often than that once summer weather arrived.
"I guess that would be nice," the girl replied.
Sarah glanced at Seth, who had quietly walked across the room to retrieve a toy soldier near the hearth. "Seth will use the water when you're done."
"I don't need a bath," he bleated.
Sarah sighed. "You played hard yesterday and today. The whole yard is covered in ashes and soot, so, yes, you do need a bath."
"Okay," he mumbled, dropping to the sofa, his voice giving way to a short lived coughing spell.
Thinking she'd give him a cup of tea later, Sarah set about getting the bathtub ready.
Bright sunlight filtered through feathery white clouds, mocking Rocky's gloomy outlook.
He wandered through the seared remains of his barn, bending to pick up what was left of his best saddle, then dropping it onto a pile of other scorched leftovers. In his quest to finish clearing what the men had missed yesterday, he'd found a section of rope, tools, barbed wire, pieces of an old horse blanket, corroded buckets, part of a milking stool, shingles, and traces of blistered tar paper from the collapsed roof.
He kicked a stray piece of charred wood with the toe of his boot and cursed under his breath. How was it possible? Everything he'd worked for years to build-gone in the blink of an eye.
Until you surrender everything into God's hands, you'll miss His blessings. Sarah's words chewed a hole through his heart. It was difficult to believe a blessing could be hidden somewhere in the midst of all this rubble, yet Sarah seemed to believe it. What did God want from him anyway?
A wagon pulled by two horses came over the rise just as he was about to head back inside. Doc Randolph sat atop the buckboard, his graying beard blowing in the wind, the wide brim of his hat dipped low to protect his eyes from the worst of the sunlight.
"Rocky," he called out. "What are you doing up and about?"
Rocky couldn't help but grin as he waved at the older man. While Doc had a fine reputation as a doctor, most complained that his bedside manner was less than impressive, probably due to heavy time constraints and the large number of folks
he visited daily.
"Just stretching my muscles," he stated. "Trying to make some sense of this mess."
Doc pulled his horses to a stop and studied Rocky from his high perch. "It's a shame indeed. But you'll rebuild. Same time next year you'll look back on the whole experience and find some good in it." He sounded like Sarah.
"Glad to see you're getting some color back," Doc continued, laying the reins aside, snatching up his black bag, and stepping down. "Rode out to check on your burns." He came close. "Hm. They're healing nicely. Your wife must be taking good care of you."
Rocky thought of how Sarah had doted on him that first night, soothing his burns with a cold cloth, sitting up with him, helping him through the worst of it. When he finally woke up, she'd brought him meals, assisted him from his bed to the outdoor necessary, and spoke in quiet tones. Whether she knew it or not, she'd brought comfort to his battered soul. But then she'd ruined all that by insisting he needed to surrender everything to God, that he was somehow missing a great blessing. He'd sneered at the remark, finding the notion absurd. The best he could figure, God was using him as a punching bag.
"She's been a fine nurse," Rocky felt forced to admit. Unfortunately, he'd been a bear of a patient, disagreeable and stubborn to boot. He hadn't even thanked her sufficiently for seeing to all the extra chores, milking the cows, feeding the livestock, gathering eggs. It seemed his wife was tougher than he thought. Still, he wouldn't blame her if she up and deserted him tomorrow. To date, he'd given her little reason for hanging around, although he suspected it was the children who kept her firmly in place.
"The rest of your family doing all right?" Doc asked.
There was a hint of concern in his tone. "Far as I know," Rocky replied.
Doc pulled at the end of his beard and frowned. "A number of children have been hit with a strange virus I haven't quite put my finger on yet," Doc said. "I thought it was a common cold, but some are running pretty high temperatures."
"You worried?" Rocky asked.
Overhead, a flock of birds sailed by, their distinctive call identifying them as geese. Probably headed for wider portions of Little Hickman Creek, Rocky mused to himself. It was a sure sign of an early spring.
"Not overly so," the middle-aged man answered. "Figure I'll give it a few more days. If we don't see some improvement, or if the thing spreads, I'll put in a call to Lexington. May end up needing an antidote."
"Antidote? You think it might come to that?"
Doc shook his head. "Highly doubtful, but it doesn't hurt to stay on guard. Don't go speaking about this to anyone. No sense in creating undue panic."
Rocky nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. You let me know if you need anything."
Doc Randolph grinned. "I won't be calling on you until you're healed, young man. I expect you to spend the next several days resting."
"Several days? I have an addition to finish on my house and then a new barn to build, Doc. You'll have to bring a rope to tie me down next time you come out if you expect me to spend more than a day or so resting."
Doc threw back his head and let go a peal of laughter. "I just came from the Broughton farm and got nearly the same remark from Benjamin. You two must've come from the same mold."
Rocky chuckled. "That we did."
Doc looked up at the clear blue sky. "Well, think I'll meander up to the house and check on that little girl of yours. She sure fared better than you did as far as the burns go, and she came out on the good side of fate with that table falling on top of her. I still can't believe no bones were broken."
"Sarah would say fate had nothing to do with it," Rocky remarked, stuffing his hands in his pockets while shifting his weight.
Doc lifted a questioning brow then nodded. "S'pose she would at that. I do know that several folks were praying hard that night. Guess we can't help but give God credit where credit's due."
Doc never had been one to attend church services, but if even he admitted God's divine intervention, Rocky suspected there might be some truth to it.
At that, the doc strolled toward the house, leaving Rocky to ponder their conversation.
Sarah was beginning to worry over Seth's unusual cough. Poor child. It was nearing midnight and he'd gotten little sleep. She lay on the lumpy sofa, staring at the ceiling and fretting over what else she could do. She'd already given him plenty of water, a dose of homemade lemon syrup-an old remedy she recalled having learned from Mrs. Winters-and made sure he was amply covered in quilts. Hopefully, by morning there'd be an improvement.
At least Rocky slept well for the first time since the fire. She suspected he'd exhausted himself today with all the puttering he'd done outside, disposing of debris the crew of men had missed yesterday. She'd offered to help, but he wouldn't hear of it, claiming she'd already done more than her share, referring to the milking, which she'd done before he'd even awakened, a feat she was proud of, despite her tired, sore hands and achy back muscles.
If Rocky appreciated all her efforts, he didn't say. In fact, it seemed to her he made every effort to be ornery. At times, she wanted to shake him. Did he even recall those tender moments out behind the house just before the fire started? Was he now trying to drive her away with his testiness, figuring the harsher he was, the better his chances of keeping her at a distance?
Seth's cough lengthened for a time and then quieted. Sarah slipped off the sofa and tiptoed to his bed. Relief flooded through her when she found him sleeping, his forehead cooler. Perhaps by morning he'd be good as new.
Across the room, Rachel also slept. Apparently, her brother's coughing spells had not disturbed her. Sarah carefully covered a section of bare arm then brushed a tendril of hair away from the child's angelic face. How she'd come to love this family.
Finally, satisfied that the household slept peacefully, she meandered back to the couch. Minutes later, sleep overtook her as well.
The first ray of sunlight worked its way through a gap in the curtains, coming to rest on Sarah's face and forcing her awake. Morning shadows cast strange forms across the dark, rustic walls of the small house. She shivered at the thought of crawling out from under the blankets, but also knew the importance of feeding the fire before its flame went out. She'd gotten up once to see to it, but from the looks of things, so had Rocky. There were fewer logs in the bin than when she'd last looked. She made a mental note to haul in several more pieces after breakfast.
Seth coughed about the time she pulled herself upright. She frowned. From the sound of it, he hadn't improved. If anything, the spasms put her in mind of a barking dog, dry and hacking. She slipped into her long robe and hurried to the children's room. Rocky met her in the doorway, his black hair tousled, his eyes reflecting worry.
"The boy doesn't sound good," he muttered. "When did he start coughing like that?"
Sarah couldn't help but notice bare feet peeking out from denim pant legs and a crop of thick chest hairs behind his yet unbuttoned shirt. Of course, she'd seen him before when she'd nursed his burns, even studied him longer than required while he slept unawares, telling herself he was not only her husband, but also her patient, and she had every right to look. Now, however, she saw him through different eyes, identifying a raw masculinity she'd ignored before.
"I noticed it yesterday," she confessed in a whisper, well aware of their close proximity.
"You didn't mention it."
"I hoped that it might be a passing germ, that he'd be much improved by this morning."
His brow went into an immediate grimace. "Doc says a lot of kids are getting sick. He's not sure what's at the root."
A tight ball of fear dropped to the bottom of her stomach and bounced around. "Did he seem overly concerned?"
"I couldn't tell. I'd say he was baffled. Said not to go speaking about it lest we cause a stir among folks."
Sarah peeked past the doorway to where the boy slept fitfully, his every breath now punctuated by a raspy moan. Without hesitation, she rushed to his side and touched c
ool fingers to his forehead. The shock of cold meeting hot forced her to retract, much in the way she might have reacted after touching a hot stove.
Rocky observed the reaction and immediately touched Seth's forehead for himself.
"We need to get Doc over here-now."
"I'll dress," Sarah said, turning.
Rocky caught her by the arm. "No, I'll go. You stay here and see what you can do to bring down the fever."
"But you're still not well enough to ride," Sarah argued.
Rocky tipped her chin up with his index finger. "I'll be fine. Just do as I say. I'll be back as soon as possible."
She gave a nod of compliance, then watched him head back to the bedroom to finish dressing. Within minutes, he was out the door, and seconds after that, she heard the clomp of horses' hooves beating a path toward town.
iphtheria?" Rocky's gut twisted into a sickening knot. "I'm not sure I know what that is, Doc."
Doc Randolph pulled at his thick, gray beard and cleared his throat. "Well, it's a type of respiratory illness, Rocky. Spreads mostly among children, although it's been known to strike adults. Just not as likely. I've been up most of the night reading from this medical book." He pointed at the thick volume lying open on his desk. "I suspect that's what we're dealing with."
Doc sighed deeply, pushed back his chair, and stood. Rocky watched him stack papers into one gigantic pile. Once done with that, he turned and yanked his coat off a nearby hook, slipped it on, and picked up his trusty black bag. "Your nephew is not the only one sick, as I was mentioning yesterday. Seems both Gus and Lenora Humphrey are down with it, as are the Hogsworth twins. Then there's little Molly Broughton and Thomas Bergen.
"Last night Bess Barrington brought Erlene straight to my office. Wish she hadn't done that, but I guess she thought it was the quickest way to reach me. Problem is there were a couple of other folks in here when she brought her in. I'm afraid they may have been exposed."
Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) Page 21
