Maybe whoever it was could help her with Johnny! She’d been praying for God to show her what to do. Maybe this was her answer. She carefully laid Johnny back down on his cot, then took down the rifle from over the door. She went to one of the windows first. Buck had fixed the broken shutters for her, and now she kept the shutters of both windows closed and barred. She peeked through the gun hole at a foggy, rainy morning. She saw a horse tied outside the porch, an Appaloosa. Another Appaloosa was tied behind it, used for a packhorse. The horses looked familiar.
“Tall Bear,” she whispered. He had come back! She moved to the door. “Tall Bear, is that you out there?”
“It is,” came the reply.
She lifted away the bar across the door and stepped back. “Come in,” she called to him.
The door opened, and Tall Bear walked inside to see Faith holding a rifle on him. He closed the door, standing there quietly, not surprised she still didn’t trust him.
Faith stared at him in surprise. He’d been gone over three weeks. Now he stood before her washed and shaved, and he had cut his hair to shoulder length. He was wearing dark cotton pants, leather boots, a white man’s yellow slicker, and a leather hat. Through the open front of the slicker she could see he wore a six-gun belted to his hip, and she saw a dark shirt and a short wool jacket. He was dressed as a white man.
“Tall Bear, where have you been? Why are you—”
“I have decided I will stay and work for you,” he interrupted. How could he tell her the truth—that she had haunted his dreams? How could he tell her the reason he left the first time was because he was afraid of his own feelings for this feisty, independent woman—a woman who would never be interested in a half-breed who had raided and killed not only with the Sioux, but with white outlaws. Still, he had not been able to stay away, and the fact remained that he needed honest work.
Faith stepped back, lowering her rifle.
“I thought you would still want me here to help. If you want me to go, I will go.”
Faith shook her head. “It isn’t that. I—” She glanced over at Johnny. “It’s just that I can’t talk about this right now. I can’t make any decisions.” She moved her gaze back to Tall Bear. “Actually, you couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m scared, Tall Bear. My son is very sick. I’m afraid—” The words caught in her throat, and she felt so helpless. “I’m afraid he’s dying.” She choked in a sudden sob and covered her mouth, letting the tears flow. In the next moment she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she was resting her head against his chest and crying. Never had she been so aware that she needed to be held, needed someone else’s strength. In Tall Bear’s arms she felt the first real comfort she had known other than when her own mother had embraced her.
“I don’t know what to do, Tall Bear. He has a terrible fever and cough, and he’s so listless. He looks at me as though he doesn’t even know me.”
She felt him removing the rifle from her hand, and she did not object. “Come,” he told her. “We will see what we can do for him.”
He led her over to the cot and leaned over Johnny, removing the blanket from around him and feeling his hot skin. “You are right,” he told her. “This is bad. You must cool him down right away or he will die.”
Faith wiped at tears. “I—I thought I should keep him wrapped tight, make him sweat it out.”
He shook his head. “No. You must remove his clothing and immerse him in cool water. You must bring the fever down, or it will affect his brain. While you do that, I must leave. I will bring something back with me that will help. While I am gone, put a pan of water on the cookstove and heat it.”
“No, don’t leave me here alone! You won’t come back.”
“I promise that I will. I already came back once, didn’t I?” He grasped her arms, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Faith saw truth there in his exotic green eyes.
“It is an old Indian remedy. You must trust me. I have caused you enough hurt. I would not lie to you about this. Get your son into cool water right away, then wrap him again as soon as he is out so that he does not shiver with chill. Heat the pan of water. I will be back soon.” He grabbed his hat and slicker again, leaving the jacket behind as he left without further explanation. Faith ran to the window and opened the shutters to watch him riding away. He had left behind his packhorse, which seemed to guarantee his return. She felt sorry for him, riding off into the cold rain, but if it was for something that would help Johnny, then so be it.
She quickly set a wash pan on the stove, then poured already-heated water from the kettle into the pan, building up the fire under the burner to keep the water in both vessels hot. Next she took down a washtub that hung on a wall and set it beside Johnny’s cot. She poured two buckets of water into it, praying that Tall Bear was right about how to bring down the fever. It just didn’t seem safe to put Johnny’s little fevered body into cool water. She would never have thought to do such a thing, afraid it would kill him, but if this was something the Sioux had always done, perhaps there was some use to it. After all, they were a people who had to survive out here with no white man’s help, no doctors, no fancy potions and creams. She remembered Buck saying once that the Indians had their own kind of medicine and seemed to do “right good” at treating their own sicknesses.
What other choice did she have? To leave things as they were would surely mean Johnny’s death. She unwrapped him, and he made only a little whimpering sound as she undressed him. It was as though he did not have the energy to cry. Perhaps he had a sore throat on top of the fever and congestion. Perhaps he simply could not get enough air to cry. His little head rolled back and his arms hung limp when she picked him up, but his body jerked when she set him in the cool water. He made another whimpering sound.
“I’m sorry, Johnny, but Mommy is only trying to do what’s best for you.” She cupped water in her hand and began pouring it over his forehead to cool his skull, face, and neck. After a few minutes he seemed to come more alert. He kicked and splashed water, then began the awful coughing again, so fierce, she was sure he would choke to death on phlegm or die simply from the inability to draw enough air into his congested lungs. “Please hurry, Tall Bear,” she prayed, still terrified for her little boy.
Finally the coughing subsided, but he seemed completely worn out just from the effort. She scooped more water over his face and head, leaned him forward, and poured some over the back of his neck and over his back. His skin finally seemed cooler, and she decided she had better take him out and wrap him before he became too chilled. She swaddled him in a blanket and carried him to the rocker to sit down and wait for Tall Bear, wondering if she was a total fool to trust him this way. She rocked Johnny, listening for the return of a horse.
After about twenty minutes she finally heard him returning. He came through the door, his big frame seeming to fill the room. He held what looked like pieces of bark in his hands, and he set them on the table, then removed his wet slicker and his hat, hanging both things on the wall. Faith noticed that without the extra coats he still seemed intimidating in size, and he still wore the six-gun.
“I have brought the bark of red cedar,” he told her. “I will boil it in the water. As soon as it releases its oils, I will take Johnny over to the boiling water and put a blanket over us. You will have to watch the blanket to be sure it does not get near open flame. I need to make a kind of tent over us so that your son breathes the steam from the bark. It will help clear his lungs. My people have used this for many generations to chase away the lung sickness.”
Faith clung to Johnny. “Does it always work?”
He walked over and broke the bark into little pieces, placing them into the wash pan, which was already steaming. “Most of the time.”
“Most of the time?”
He poured more water from the kettle into the pan. “Nothing in this life is sure. I know only that this usually helps. The rest is in God’s hands.”
She thought it strange he should
say that, as though he believed in her God. The room was silent for the next few minutes. Faith continued to rock Johnny, and Tall Bear poked at the bark, stirring it a little. He leaned down, sniffed it, and after several minutes told her to bring the boy to him, along with an extra blanket. Faith decided she had no choice but to trust him.
She carried the baby to Tall Bear, their gazes holding as she handed him over. “He’s all I have,” she reminded him.
“I know the feeling of loving a son,” he answered, taking the boy into his arms, “and how it feels to lose one to death.”
She saw the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m thinking only of myself and my own son.”
“That is as it should be. Put the extra blanket over my head. Once the water in the pan is boiling hard, I will take him over and sit on the cot with him. You can carry the pan and set it on the floor, and we will continue to sit over the steam, using the blanket to hold it in.”
Faith tossed the blanket over their heads, and Tall Bear leaned over the pan. Faith checked all around carefully to be sure the blanket did not touch any open drafts on the front of the stove, and she made sure to keep lifting the hem so it did not rest too long on the hot wrought-iron stove. For several minutes Tall Bear held the boy over the water, and she thought how he must be getting hot and sweaty under there himself, and that his arms must be getting tired from holding Johnny, but he hardly moved. Finally Johnny began coughing again. He gagged, and she heard Tall Bear pounding on his back. He told her then to quickly bring the pan over to the cot, and he carried Johnny there, sitting down on the edge. He talked to the boy softly in the Sioux tongue, and Faith was amazed that the boy was not crying at being held by a stranger—such a big, intimidating man at that, a man he’d seen attack the station only a month ago. On top of that Tall Bear was talking to him in a strange language. Perhaps the boy was simply too dazed to understand what was happening to him.
She set the pan at the edge of the cot on the floor, thinking how good the steaming cedar smelled. Tall Bear hovered over it, he and Johnny covered with the blanket again. Johnny coughed more, but already his cough seemed even looser, so that he was able to bring up more phlegm, which she thought must be good.
“I’m sorry you have to sit under there like that,” she told Tall Bear. “I can sit with him for a while if you want.”
“I am fine,” he told her. “I have sat in the sweat lodge many times for purification. It is much hotter than this. It is good for the lungs, and good for the soul.”
Faith frowned, not sure what a sweat lodge was. It was something she would have to ask him about when this was over…if things ended happily. Nothing would matter to her if Johnny didn’t make it. She would never forgive herself for staying where there was no doctor’s help for her son.
Minutes seemed like hours, and finally a good hour did pass before she heard Johnny speak. “Ta Baew,” he said. Her heart leaped with joy at the words.
“No,” Tall Bear answered. “That is no longer my name, Johnny. I am Gabe. Can you say Gabe?”
“Gabe,” the boy said after a moment. He actually giggled, but then he began coughing again.
“That is good, Johnny. Get all the poison out of your lungs. Don’t be afraid of it.”
Faith could hardly believe how gentle and patient the man was with Johnny, and it struck her how much he must have loved his own son, what an awful thing it must have been to see the child murdered. No wonder he had gone on raids against whites.
Tall Bear removed the blanket, his own face covered with sweat. To Faith’s astonishment Johnny looked at her and grinned, a blessed sight indeed. “Johnny!” she said softly. “Come to Mommy.”
Tall Bear handed him over. “He is still very sick. Rock him to sleep and keep him sitting up. I will reheat the water and do this again in an hour or two. We will keep it up all day and tonight. I think by morning he will feel much better.”
Faith rose, clinging to her son. “I don’t know what to say—how to thank you, Tall Bear.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “There is no need for thanks. I owed this much to you.” He carried the water back to the stove, again adding a little more to the pan from the kettle. “He is not safely out of danger yet, so do not thank me too soon.” He left the pan on the stove for the moment. “And call me Gabe from now on.”
Faith frowned with curiosity. “All right,” she answered. “Gabriel it is.”
He smiled. “Just Gabe will do. Gabriel doesn’t seem quite fitting.”
She thought how she had prayed diligently for God to send help, and Gabriel was an angel’s name. Gabriel Beaumont had shown up at her door and had probably just saved Johnny’s life. “Gabriel is very fitting,” she answered, “but if you prefer Gabe, then that is what I will call you.”
Only a couple of hours ago she had felt so helpless, had lost all hope, was ready to give up and leave Sommers Station. Now here was this wild half-breed who amazingly had given her new hope, a new resolve to survive there, a deeper faith in her own God, who always seemed to be watching out for her.
“I will go put up my horses,” he told her, putting on his slicker and hat.
“Fine. There is fresh hay in the horse shed, and some oats. You can put your things in the back room and sleep there.”
He hesitated at the door. “One of the outbuildings will do.”
“They aren’t heated. You’ll be as sick as Johnny if you sleep out there.”
“It would not look right to your guests if they know I stay here and sleep in the same house.” How can I sleep so close to you without wanting to be in your bed? he felt like adding. “I will survive until warmer weather, which is coming soon. In the meantime I will build a small place for myself out behind the horse shed so it is far enough away to be proper.”
Proper? Faith thought. With all the things she’d done to survive there, the way she dressed now, her rough hands and sometimes-hardened heart, she wondered if it mattered if others thought her “proper.” “Fine,” she answered aloud, “if it makes you feel better.”
It will just make things a lot easier, he thought. He went out without answering.
Faith rocked Johnny, who quickly fell asleep, this time seeming to be truly resting peacefully. She felt his cheek, and to her great relief it was cool. She felt like crying again out of sheer joy. She didn’t know what to think of Gabriel Beaumont’s return, other than that she was sure God had sent him. What would happen from here on was a mystery, but his presence would certainly bring relief to the loneliness and boredom of Sommers Station this time of year.
Chapter Twenty-one
Faith awoke to the welcome spring sound of birds singing. Her neck ached, and her eyes felt puffy. She still sat in the rocker, and Johnny still rested in the crook of her arm. She glanced at the softly ticking clock on the wall. Seven o’clock. She had slept only three hours. She had been awake all night, holding and rocking Johnny between the times Gabe had sat with the boy over the steaming water. Gabe had finally left the boy to her around four A.M.
She leaned down to listen to Johnny’s breathing, and although he still sounded congested, his breathing was not as labored as it had been the day before, and she realized that during these last two or three hours he had not even coughed. She touched a chubby cheek to find it cool. She closed her eyes for a moment to say a short prayer. “Thank you, God. Thank you for bringing Tall Bear.”
She rose, reminding herself Tall Bear wanted to be called Gabe now. She lay Johnny on his cot to let him continue sleeping, then built up the fire in the cookstove. Little shafts of sunlight shot through the cracks in the window shutters, and it didn’t seem quite so chilly and damp that morning. Perhaps it would finally begin warming again, which would be a relief, since Gabe had insisted on sleeping in one of the sheds until he could build something for himself. And warmer weather would help Johnny.
She washed her face and hands, wondering if Gabe really meant to stay. It would be pleasant having someone around all the
time again, although she dearly missed a woman’s company—but just having anyone to talk to would be welcome. The trouble was, there were things about Gabe Beaumont that disturbed her in ways she had not been disturbed in years.
She set a kettle of day-old coffee on the stove, then walked into the back room to quickly change her wrinkled dress, wanting to start some breakfast before Gabe might wake up and come inside. She hoped he had not decided to leave again. She brushed out her hair and retwisted it neatly on top of her head, wondering what he really thought about her. There wasn’t a lot left about her that was truly feminine, but as she studied herself in the mirror, she decided she still had a decently attractive face, and her mother had told her she had beautiful hair.
She looked closer in the mirror. No, she didn’t have a lot of wrinkles yet. She opened a jar of cream and rubbed some into her skin, then into the skin on the backs of her hands, deciding she would never again have soft hands. So be it. She had her pride and independence, and now she had hope of staying at Sommers Station. If the work involved aged her, that was just the way it would have to be. She finished pinning her hair, chastising herself for caring how she might look to a half-breed Indian who had a knack for being here today and gone tomorrow.
She smoothed her dress and then checked on Johnny once more before going outside to take some bacon from the smokehouse. To her relief the sunrise brought a warmth that hadn’t been in the air for nearly two weeks. She went back inside and set her favorite heavy black fry pan on the stove, laying some strips of bacon into it. She turned when someone tapped on the door. “Come in,” she called.
Gabe stepped inside, wearing snug-fitting pants of black cotton. Faith couldn’t help noticing his slender hips, on which rested a wide leather gun belt that held his handgun. His pants belt showed beaded decorations, obviously something from his Indian world, as was the ever-present bear-claw necklace that peeked from the open neck of his red calico shirt. Although the shirt had slightly bloused sleeves, they could not hide the fact that they covered powerful arms and wide shoulders.
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