Wild and Tender Care

by Haley Whitehall

  The walls of her stomach squeezed together, pushing the bile up her throat. This was a dangerous situation. She swallowed, trying to ease the acid burn. Once she entered her home again she wouldn’t be able to come back out until the disease had passed and Dr. Steere deemed it safe.

  Haggard and on edge, William looked like a different man from when they’d first met. They said hardship tested a man’s mettle. She reckoned it would be a good test of their strength as a couple too.

  He couldn’t brave this epidemic alone. The chance she’d be infected was a risk and a sacrifice she was willing to take. He couldn’t tend to the five ill and counting by himself.

  She would not only cook meals for all these people but would help bathe and take care of them too. William seemed to think she could be a good nurse and she was willing to try. At least she’d be spending more time with him.

  Smallpox didn’t seem so scary knowing he was near.

  “Doctor Steere.” Mayor Caldwell’s voice stopped both of them in their tracks.

  “Yes?” William asked, turning around.

  “I just want you to know men will be guarding Miss Page’s house. None of the patients will be allowed to exit.”

  Dr. Steere nodded. “Understood.”

  “There are going to be armed men outside my house?” Ida whispered.

  William reached over, took her hand in his, and gave it a squeeze. “It will be all right.”

  “If you need anything just let one of the men know,” Mayor Caldwell continued. “It will be delivered to you and placed right outside the front door.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.” William surveyed the dwindling crowd. “Now if you will excuse me, I have patients to attend to.”

  Not giving them a chance to respond he picked up his pace and Ida quickened her stride to stay at his side.

  “I served in the war,” he muttered, “and I haven’t seen so many cowards.”

  Ida shoved out a breath. “That’s Big Rock for you.”

  They slowed their steps, now nearing her house. Mr. Pratt stood outside holding a rifle. She swallowed hard and drew a deep breath. A reminder once she went inside with William there was no turning back. They wouldn’t even be allowed trips to the outhouse. Emptying chamber pots was a nurse’s duty.

  “You don’t have to help me,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into this.”

  “I don’t feel pressured. I want to help.”

  He offered her a weak smile. “I don’t like putting you in harm’s way.”

  “It is my decision, William. I figure a doctor’s wife should not only be a good companion but also be a good nurse.”

  He cupped her cheek with his palm. “Nursing skills are not necessary,” he breathed.

  Her pulse quickened and she raised her head to meet his lips. He might not know it, but all she wanted to do was take care of him.

  They’d get through the epidemic together.

  After a soft kiss, their mouths parted, leaving a lingering warmth. She unlocked the door and he motioned for her to go ahead of him.

  “Thank you for standing by me,” he said, shutting the door and locking it from the inside. It didn’t seem necessary since no one in their right mind would come inside the smallpox-infested house.

  “You’ve been standing by me since the Independence Day picnic. It is my turn to show my support.” And love.

  * * * *

  Ida cupped her face and took a deep breath. Her lungs slowly expanded and her heart rate dropped to a jogging pace. She could do this. She could take care of all the smallpox patients without breaking down. So many of them were children…

  Toby lay next to his father. He rolled onto his stomach, finally sleeping peacefully. The boy had burned up with fever.

  They all had.

  After six days in quarantine her house looked like a hospital. Pallets lined the floor with feverish patients. Over half of the wagon train had come down with disease and every day someone else appeared on their doorstep complaining of symptoms.

  “How are you doing?” William asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m all right.” She yawned. “I think I’ll make another pot of coffee to keep me going.”

  “You need to rest. You’re running yourself ragged.”

  She laughed. “You’re preaching to the choir there, Doctor. I’m not slowing down unless you do.”

  He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “Stubborn woman.”

  She had collected all the dishes from breakfast but they currently sat in the kitchen sink in need of washing. Once that chore was accomplished she could start in on the laundry. With so many people to take care of the chores never ended.

  She scanned the faces of the patients occupying her house. There wouldn’t be floor space for too many more. At least most of them were resting. Hard bumps covered their skin, visible on their faces, necks, and hands, the rest of the rash hidden under their clothes. Those who were awake looked miserable, many rolling onto one side and then the other trying to find a comfortable position. They were in need of a sponge bath to help bring down their temperatures.

  She let out a sigh. One task at a time.

  Mr. Newly waved his arm and both she and Dr. Steere ran to his side. Propped up to a sitting position with pillows, he struggled to breathe. The man’s chest heaved as he wheezed, each breath sounding gurgly.

  William gnawed on his lower lip and knelt beside the man struggling to breathe. “I’m going to listen to your lungs,” he said, and then put on his stethoscope. Pulling up Mr. Newly’s shirt, he placed the end of the stethoscope on his back. “Take a deep breath.” He moved the stethoscope. “And another. And one more.”

  Each breath sounded painful and Mr. Newly’s eyes looked unfocused and worried.

  After listening to his heart and taking his pulse, William stood, taking off his stethoscope. “I’m afraid your pneumonia is getting worse.”

  “A body can’t fight off smallpox and pneumonia too,” Ida said. As soon as she voiced her thought she wished she hadn’t.

  Mr. Newly gave a tiny nod, indicating he understood.

  “It is sometimes a complication,” William said to both of them. “I’m sorry, but there is little I can do. I’ll make you comfortable.”

  Mr. Newly coughed and Ida rubbed his back, not knowing how to help him. Nothing else he could do? Her lungs constricted, trapping the air in her lungs. She glanced over at Toby still asleep in the cot next to his father. How a boy could sleep through such chaos she didn’t know, but this was one conversation she was glad he’d missed.

  William handed Mr. Newly a clean handkerchief. “I can give you morphine, but it will put you to sleep.”

  Panic flashed in his eyes, and unable to talk through his coughing, Mr. Newly shook his head.

  “Okay. Take it easy,” William said.

  “Toby,” Mr. Newly gasped. “Wake him.”

  Ida shook the boy’s shoulder. Raised lesions covered him from head to toe, even on his palms and the soles of his feet. Some of the bumps had even sprouted around his eyes and she hoped it wouldn’t affect his vision.

  The boy sat up, visibly stronger now that his fever had broken. He looked at her and then Dr. Steere and then his father. His eyes grew big and his chin trembled. “Pa? Are you all right?”

  Mr. Newly motioned for Toby to come closer. The man wrapped his arms around his son and held him close. “I love you, son,” he wheezed.

  “I love you too, Pa,” the boy said.

  Mr. Newly rocked his son forward and back, all the while struggling for each breath. “You be a good boy now.”

  Toby nodded, his eyes flooding with tears.

  Mr. Newly hadn’t said he was dying, but Ida could tell the boy knew.

  “Doctor,” Mr. Newly said, “take good care of my son.”

  “Do you have any relatives I can write? Anyone who can take him in?”

  “No,” the man rasped. “His mother died in childbirth on the w
ay here.” He shot a pleading gaze at Ida. “You’ve been good to us, ma’am. Help raise my boy.” Mr. Newly looked from her to William.

  A sharp pain hit her chest. Mr. Newly didn’t really know her. She wasn’t even married to Dr. Steere. How could they raise Toby? The reverend certainly wouldn’t allow her to mother an orphan, although she desperately wished she could. Her womb could not hold a child. Her only hope at a family would be adoption.

  “We will,” William said. “I promise.”

  Ida blinked. How could he make such a promise to dying man? Didn’t he realize it was next to impossible?

  “I’ll be right back.” William left and came back with his medical bag. “I am going to inject the morphine in your arm with a hypodermic needle.” He opened his medical bag and pulled out the needle and a small strap.

  Ida gently pulled Toby away from his father so William could give him the shot. The boy sobbed silently, watching William tie the strap around his father’s arm and then inject him with morphine.

  Mr. Newly relaxed almost instantly and seemed to be breathing better although his mouth still hung open.

  William untied the strap and glanced over at them, blinking tears from his eyes.

  During the next four days every time Mr. Newly started gasping for air William gave him another shot of morphine until the man went to sleep one night and never woke up.

  Ida took Mr. Newly’s arms and helped William carry the man’s body out the back door. They placed him gently on the grass and then returned inside the house. Whoever was on guard tonight would bury him in the town cemetery. The third fatality so far after two babies.

  Ida tried not to think about the stench of death in the house. Instead she tried to focus on her work. Entering the kitchen to get away from the patients and Toby’s sad face, she dived into the mountain of dishes with enthusiasm.

  Halfway though she began feeling flushed. Drying her hands on her apron, she decided the rest of the dishes would have to wait. A quick nap and she would be as good as new. She climbed on top of her bed and her body seemed to mold to the bedding. Her muscles aching, it felt so good to close her eyes. William was right; she’d been working too hard.

  “Ida.” William’s voice jolted her awake. “How are you feeling?”

  She groaned. How long had she been asleep? It felt like merely a few minutes. Surely he could get along for a couple of hours without her.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was hit by a train,” she mumbled. “Let me sleep a little longer.”

  His cool hand pressed against her forehead. “I’ve let you sleep half the day away, honey. You have a fever.”

  Fever? Oh no. I’ve finally gotten smallpox.

  “That would explain why I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.”

  As soon as she said that William was on the bed next to her wiping her forehead with a wet cloth. “Fight, Ida. You have to get better.”

  “I will, but will you still love me with a pockmarked face?”

  William gave a hollow laugh and his fingers brushed the side of her face. “I’ll always love you, Ida. I need you by my side. I can’t raise Toby alone.”

  Chapter 11

  William shut Ida’s bedroom door to give them some privacy and then returned to the bed. He gently undressed her and then proceeded to bathe her face, neck and arms, slowly working his way lower.

  “I haven’t been bathed since I was a little girl,” she said through slitted eyes.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, brushing the cloth around the globe of her left breast and then the right.

  “No.” Her eyes closed. “That feels good.”

  Her hot skin quickly dried up the water. He shouldn’t have allowed her to help him. He knew she’d likely get smallpox with all the close contact to his patients. Still, even if he had forbade her, he doubted she would have listened. He couldn’t really throw her out of her own home. The fact she hadn’t protested when he had asked to use it as his hospital meant the world to him. That alone was a sacrifice. She didn’t have to be his nurse to earn his love and respect. She already had it from the very beginning.

  If she died or even had any complications from this illness he’d never forgive himself. He’d love her with all her scars and even if she went blind, but…

  He stopped that line of thinking. Such thoughts invited the worst to happen. Ida was a strong young woman. All he had to do was bring down her fever. Without any proven treatment for smallpox all he could do was manage symptoms.

  He dipped the rag into his bowl of water again and wiped between her breasts before going down to her stomach.

  The corners of her lips turned upward. “Take your time,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m enjoying this.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He laughed. There was his Ida. The wet cloth trailed down the curve of one thigh and her breath hitched.

  Thinking about making love should be the last thing on her mind when battling a high fever, but she clearly had other ideas.

  He leaned over her naked body and kissed her cheek. “As soon as you’re well we can stay in your room and make love all day.”

  She grinned. “I’ll hold you to that, Doctor.”

  William ran the cloth across the curve of her other thigh and then down her legs. After washing her feet, he had Ida roll over and he started the bath all over again beginning with her shoulders and arms.

  Once properly bathed and cooled off, William helped her into her nightgown and then gave her some chicken broth. Sometimes smallpox affected the stomach so he’d learned to keep meals light at first to find out if his patients could keep the food down. It also made eating easier when lesions grew in the mouth.

  “You just rest,” he said to her. “I have to go check on everyone else. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, drinking the last of the broth out of the bowl. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Most of the people with smallpox had come from the wagon train and had been infected before arriving in Big Rock. He’d really done a good job containing the outbreak although one look at the people lying on the floor would make anyone wonder.

  Seeing all those people, men, women, children, and even babies covered in hard bumps, the lesions filled with fluid, brought back painful memories. Memories of his youth and the overwhelming number of patients reminded him of the war. Often he had commandeered a person’s house to use as a hospital after a bloody battle. At least he wasn’t amputating limbs and pulling out shrapnel this time.

  Although during the war he’d felt useful. Right now, unable to ease his patients suffering he just felt helpless. The disease merely ravished the body taking its natural course. One look at Toby and he felt like a failure. No one knew why some people with smallpox got pneumonia, and with the body so weak it seldom ended well.

  He ran his hands down his face. The lack of sleep was seriously wearing on his morale. These people didn’t need a depressed doctor. He walked to the front door and stuck his head outside. Tonight Austin stood guard. “I just wanted to let you know that Miss Page took ill.”

  “She has the smallpox?” he asked.

  “Yes. Hopefully there won’t be too many more cases.”

  Austin grunted. “I guess you can have her then.”

  William’s eyes narrowed and he stared at the large man, who held a Winchester in his hands. “What do you mean?”

  “People seldom get over smallpox without some disfigurement,” he said. “I want my wife to be pretty.”

  Why, that son of a bitch. William bared his teeth. It was best to leave it be. Telling the man off wouldn’t do any good. “I see. Well, thank you.”

  “Hey, I have a question. Some of the people have been wondering how come you haven’t gotten sick.”

  “I’m immune. I had smallpox as a child.”

  “You got lucky, I guess. Smallpox has wiped out several Indian villages.”

  And I’m sure you’re happy about that. “Yes, I suppose
I was fortunate. Both my parents died of smallpox though. It hit my village hard too.”

  Austin’s skin paled. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  William pulled his head back in the house and slammed the door shut. The longer they talked, the more chances he’d give the man to put his foot in his mouth again. Blood still boiling from his comment about Ida, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

  Hopefully it rained tonight and Austin would get soaking wet.

  * * * *

  A knock interrupted William’s examination of Toby two days later. The boy was almost over the disease. His rash had crusted over and the hard lesions had begun falling off.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked the boy.

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” He clapped the boy on the shoulder. “You can be my helper now. With Miss Page sick, I need another helper.”

  Toby nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Another knock.

  “I have to go answer the door. See Maggie over there. Why don’t you go see how she is feeling?”

  Toby nodded and walked over to where the little girl sat in the corner next to her mother. The two children were about the same age and could keep each other company now that both of them were on the mend.

  The boy hadn’t spoken much since his father died. Even though it was many years ago William recalled that pain as if it were fresh. If he kept the boy occupied with tasks maybe he wouldn’t concentrate on his sorrow.

  William answered the front door and saw Mrs. Caldwell standing on the porch, leaning up against the house as if she might faint.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Caldwell?”

  “All right!” she shouted. “I have a fever and I feel weak. I could just be getting a cold but they’re sending me here to be infected for sure.”

  He hadn’t counted on the mayor’s wife being a patient. This should be interesting. He wrapped his arm around her and helped her inside the house.