A Reason to Believe

by McKade, Maureen

  “Yes.” Rye narrowed his eyes. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, not at all. I liked Frank . . . when he was sober. Give me a minute to grab my bag and tell my wife where I’m going. My buggy’s in the back if you could hitch it up for me.”

  Rye nodded and ran around to do as the doctor asked. Dr. Wickberg joined him just as Rye finished hitching the man’s horse to the buggy.

  “Thanks, son.” Dr. Wickberg climbed up onto the seat and slapped the reins against the horse’s rump.

  Left in the dust, Rye hurried back to Smoke and caught up to the doctor. They traveled the short distance in silence. Rye prayed Madeline’s illness wasn’t serious, but the memory of Dulcie’s fearful pallor caused his gut to clench. If Dulcie lost her little girl, Rye suspected she’d lose interest in everything, including her own life.

  Collie met them in front of the cabin, his pinched expression revealing his unease.

  “Hello, Collie,” Dr. Wickberg greeted the boy.

  “You gonna help Madeline, Dr. Wickberg?” The hope in Collie’s face told Rye how scared he was for the girl.

  “I’m going to do everything I can,” the doctor assured. He patted Collie’s shoulder and bustled into the house, his medical bag in hand.

  Rye’s knees trembled, and he sank down onto the porch step. He hadn’t had time to be afraid until now. Although he’d only known Madeline a short time, he cared for the girl a great deal. He recalled her giggles and pictured the mischievous twinkle in her eyes when she was about to do something she shouldn’t.

  Collie sat down beside Rye. “Is she gonna be okay?”

  Rye wanted to tell him Madeline would be as good as new in a day or two, but he couldn’t. “I don’t know. I didn’t see her, but Mrs. McDaniel said she was pretty sick.”

  Collie edged closer to Rye and the older man put his arm around the boy’s skinny shoulders. “I don’t want her to die like my ma and pa done.”

  Rye’s heart slipped into his throat and he swallowed before speaking. “We’ll do everything we can to help her.”

  They sat in silence, hearing murmurs from the cabin but unable to discern the words.

  “Do you got a ma and pa?” Collie asked in a low voice.

  “No. They died a long time ago. When I was about your age.”

  “Did you have any brothers or sisters?”

  The hollow ache in Rye’s chest returned. “Yes. Two brothers.”

  Collie leaned his head against Rye. “I wish you were my brother.”

  Rye hugged the boy closer to his side and wished he was worthy of being Collie’s brother. He took a deep breath and released the boy. “I’m going to take Smoke down to the corral. Why don’t you give the doctor’s horse some water?”

  Collie nodded.

  After the horses were taken care of, Rye and Collie went back to their vigil. Rye paced on the porch while Collie threw rocks down the dirt road.

  It was midmorning when Dr. Wickberg finally came out with Dulcie behind him.

  “With that laudanum, she’ll sleep for a few hours. Keep bathing her with cool water. That’ll help the fever,” the doctor said. “Use the laudanum only in the evening to help her sleep.”

  Dulcie, her face pale but determined, nodded.

  “If she gets worse, send for me,” Dr. Wickberg said.

  “I will, Doctor. Thank you,” Dulcie said.

  Dr. Wickberg smiled paternally and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You get some rest, too, or you won’t be any help for that sweet little daughter.”

  She managed a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

  Dr. Wickberg nodded, and Rye walked him to his buggy.

  “Make sure Dulcie gets some sleep,” the doctor said in a low voice to Rye. “She’s going to make herself sick if she doesn’t.”

  “I’ll make sure she does. What’s wrong with Madeline?”

  “Could be a bad cold. Might be the flu. As long as her fever breaks within the next couple of days and she coughs up that stuff in her lungs, she’s got a good chance of recovering.”

  “And if those things don’t happen?”

  “Don’t go building bridges you might not have to cross,” Dr. Wickberg said sternly. “Madeline is a strong little girl. Give her a chance.”

  Ashamed of his pessimism, Rye nodded. “Thanks for coming out, Dr. Wickberg.”

  “That’s my job, son.” He leaned down and spoke in a low voice only Rye could hear. “What’s Collie doing out here? I thought he was staying with the Gearsons.”

  “He needed some time away from that brood,” Rye said, growing angry despite himself. “Those twins are a mean pair.”

  “Ahhh, Timmy and Tommy,” Dr. Wickberg said with a knowing grimace. “They didn’t hurt Collie, did they?”

  “Just some bruises this time. He told Mrs. Gearson, but she believed her boys, who said they didn’t do anything to him.”

  “Blind spot, pure and simple.” The doctor shook his graying head. “I never thought Collie should go with the Gearsons, but nobody else spoke up for him.”

  I know what that feels like. Rye shook the memories aside. “Thanks for coming, Doctor.”

  “You just keep an eye on them and make sure you come and get me if Madeline takes a turn for the worse.”

  “I will.”

  Rye stepped back as the doctor drove his rig out of the yard. He turned back to see Collie on the porch and no sign of Dulcie.

  Although they weren’t his family, Rye couldn’t help but feel responsible for them. It had been a long time since anyone had needed him.

  FIFTEEN

  DULCIE wasn’t surprised to hear a tentative knock not long after Dr. Wickberg left.

  “Come in,” she called softly from Madeline’s bedside.

  Rye entered the room, removing his hat as he did. His gaze flew to Madeline. “How is she?”

  Dulcie shrugged, fighting another spate of tears. “She’s sleeping, and the doctor said rest will help her get better.”

  He remained by the doorway, looking ill at ease, but Dulcie didn’t have the strength to reassure him.

  Rye fingered his hat’s brim. “You ought to get some rest, too. You won’t do Madeline any good otherwise.”

  “Dr. Wickberg talked to you.” It wasn’t a question, but she knew she was right when Rye’s face reddened.

  “He mentioned that you might have to be persuaded to get some sleep yourself.”

  She chuckled. “Knowing Dr. Wickberg, he ordered you to make sure I didn’t wear myself out.”

  Rye grinned lopsidedly. “Maybe he suggested it awfully strong.” He relaxed his stance. “You’ve known him long?”

  “He brought me into the world,” she replied. “Ma didn’t have an easy time of it. Fact is, she would’ve died if Dr. Wickberg hadn’t been with her.” Her expression sobered.

  “But Ma wasn’t able to have any more children. I know Pa wasn’t happy about that, especially since he wanted a son.”

  “Is that when he started drinking?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t remember a time when he didn’t have whiskey around the house, but it didn’t get bad until I was twelve or thirteen years old.” A sudden craving for the liquor in the trunk swamped her and she fought the urge. She couldn’t touch the whiskey when Madeline needed her. Still, the temptation lingered.

  “Whiskey never solved anything,” Rye said.

  Startled, she glanced at him. Had he read her mind? Had he learned of her occasional nip? How could he? She only drank when she was alone in the cabin at night.

  Rye’s gaze darted over her and settled on a faded needle-point hanging above the bed. “I knew this fellah who hardly ever touched whiskey.” His chuckle sounded forced. “He didn’t even like the taste of it. But one day something happened, and the only thing that made him forget was whiskey. He took to drinking it whenever he wasn’t working. Spent all his money on it. He got so bad that one day instead of doing his job, he went to a saloon and drank until he was falling-down drunk.�
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  Rye paused and a faraway glint came to his eyes. “While he was drunk, he did something stupid, and a man died.” He cleared his throat, and his gaze returned to the present. “He hasn’t touched liquor since that night.”

  Dulcie studied him, the grief in his expression and the stiff way he held himself. Either that man had been a good friend or he was Rye himself. She suspected the latter. “What happened to him?”

  “Last I heard he was trying to make a new life for himself.”

  “At least he quit drinking. My pa never did.”

  Some emotion flashed through Rye’s features. “It’s a good lesson for anyone who thinks whiskey can take away a person’s problems. The only thing whiskey does is bury the pain a little deeper, but the pain never goes away. A person just has to learn how to live with it.”

  The intensity of his gaze forced Dulcie to look away. He knew about her drinking, just as surely as she knew it was no friend, but he who caused a man’s death. But she wasn’t like her father; she’d never be like him.

  Rye gazed at Madeline, his expression gentling. “I’ll stick close to the house today, so if you need anything or if you’d just like me to watch Madeline, I’ll be here.”

  She clasped her hands together as her throat grew tight. Even after all the times she’d been curt with him and made him eat his meals alone on the porch, Rye was genuinely concerned about Madeline . . . and her.

  “I appreciate that, truly I do, but Madeline will probably sleep for most of the morning.” Dulcie met his compassionate gaze. “What I’d like is if you’d go back to cutting the wheat.” She cleared her throat. “When Madeline gets to feeling better, she’s going to need new clothes and we’ll need food for the winter. And we won’t have that unless the wheat and corn can be sold.”

  Dulcie thought he might misunderstand, think she was more worried about the harvest than Madeline, but Madeline was the reason for everything, including the harvest.

  “All right,” Rye agreed after only a few moments. “That makes sense, but Collie or I will come check on you every couple of hours.”

  Gratitude warmed her and she nodded without hesitation.

  He turned to leave, but Dulcie caught his wrist. “Could you watch Madeline while I make breakfast?”

  “You don’t have—”

  “You and Collie can’t work with empty bellies.” Dulcie rose.

  Rye inclined his head and moved to sit on a chair pulled close to the bed.

  She took a last look at her daughter’s pale face and bit back a sob. Madeline looked so helpless. Dulcie spun away to carry out her task.

  Rye heard her call Collie in and ask him to set the table and butter the bread. She explained what was happening with Madeline and also reassured him that she would be fine. Her voice was calm, steady, and reassuring but Rye knew she was hiding her fear from Collie.

  His original impression of Dulcie was that she cared little about others, and oftentimes her bluntness irritated him.

  However, listening to her gentle words to Collie he couldn’t help but wonder what made her so rude and inconsiderate at times. Perhaps it was the same reason that made her turn to whiskey.

  “Breakfast is ready.”

  Startled by Collie’s voice, he turned to see the boy standing hesitantly in the doorway. Collie glanced at Madeline then looked away, as if fearful that he might hurt her by simply gazing at her.

  “She’s sleeping,” Rye said softly.

  Collie nodded and bolted away from the room.

  Rye cupped Madeline’s warm cheek. “We’ll be close by,” he whispered to the sleeping girl.

  He rose and joined Collie at the table.

  “She’s still sleeping,” Rye told Dulcie.

  She brought their filled plates to the table then started to the bedroom.

  “You need to eat, too, Dulcie,” Rye reminded.

  “I’m not hungry.” Her tone left no room for argument, and she disappeared into the small bedroom to sit with her daughter.

  Rye forced himself to eat and glanced at Collie, who was merely moving his food around with his fork.

  “You’d best eat, Collie,” Rye said. “We’ll be working in the field the rest of the day.” He suddenly realized he was treating Collie like a slave rather than a guest. “You don’t have to go out to the field with me. I don’t want you to think I brought you out here just to work.”

  “I like working with you.”

  Collie’s simple declaration touched Rye, and he smiled warmly at the boy. “I like working with you, too.”

  Collie grinned widely and shoveled food into his mouth.

  After he finished eating Rye stepped into the bedroom to find Dulcie staring down at her daughter as if she might disappear at any moment. The vulnerability he saw in the woman shook him. Dulcie was always so certain of herself, but beneath that shield lay the tender heart of a woman.

  “She’ll be okay, Dulcie,” he said.

  Her lips trembled and she curled her hands into fists. “I keep telling myself that, but it’s so hard to see her this way.”

  Rye sat down beside her on the bed and put his arm around her shoulders. “I know, but there’s nothing else you can do.”

  She leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. “This can’t be easy for you, not after losing your wife and baby. I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t know if she was sorry about him losing his family or sorry he had to see Madeline this way. Either way, he wasn’t sorry he was here for them. “The only thing that matters right now is Madeline. You just concentrate on doing what Dr. Wickberg said.”

  She nodded against him. “I’ll try.”

  Despite the circumstances, Rye savored the feel of her body against his. She was warm, and her soft curves fit against his lean hardness. It’d been a long time since he’d held a woman to offer comfort and not as a prelude to buying her time.

  “I’m ready, Rye,” Collie said, standing in the doorway.

  Dulcie pulled away from him.

  “Why don’t you go out and fill up a bucket of water to take with us?” Rye suggested to Collie.

  The boy left to carry out the task.

  “We’ll check on you every couple of hours,” Rye said.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  He smiled at the typical Dulcie response. “I know.”

  Rye carried the scythe and pail of water, leaving Collie to bring the rake. Once in the field, they fell into a routine. Rye swung the scythe back and forth while Collie raked the windrows into piles behind him. Then once a row was cut, both Rye and Collie bundled the stalks and set them up to dry.

  Near dinner time, Rye sent Collie back to the cabin to see how they were doing. The boy returned half an hour later with buttered bread, dried apples, pickles, and hard-boiled eggs. They ate the simple fare and went back to work. When midafternoon arrived, Rye had Collie sit in the shade under a tree while he took his turn running back to the cabin.

  “Dulcie?” Rye called out quietly from the open doorway.

  “Come in.”

  Rye entered the bedroom to find Madeline awake but obviouslynot feeling well. Her eyes were puffy and red, as if she’d been crying, and her face was flushed with fever.

  “Hey, Madeline,” Rye said, smiling at the girl.

  Madeline’s smile wasn’t her usual, but it was enough to relieve Rye. “Hi Mr. Rye. Where’s Collie?”

  “Working in the field. He said to say hello.”

  Madeline coughed and sweat covered her face. Dulcie dampened a cloth in a pan of water and gently wiped away the moisture. The girl closed her eyes.

  “How is it going in the field?” Dulcie asked, but Rye didn’t know if it was because she was interested or she simply didn’t want to talk about Madeline’s condition in front of the girl.

  “We’re getting it done one row at a time. I’d best be getting back out there,” he said.

  Madeline opened her eyes. “Wanna go with.”

  Rye leaned ov
er the girl. “Not today, but maybe tomorrow.”

  “Hate being sick.”

  “Me, too.” Rye laid his hand on her head. “Your job is to get better.”

  “’Kay.”

  Rye resisted the impulse to kiss the girl’s hot brow. She wasn’t his daughter, and he had no right pretending to be her father. Especially since he was the reason her father was dead. That thought made him retreat two steps.

  “We’ll be back later,” Rye said.

  Dulcie merely nodded, and Madeline looked like she was about to cry. Rye hurried out, hoping his visit hadn’t upset Madeline too much.

  The rest of the day passed in the monotonous routine of the harvest. Even though Rye worked fewer hours today, he was more tired than he’d been last night. He and Collie stopped at the pond again to bathe, but this time they didn’t take the time to splash water at one another. They simply washed the sweat from their skin and trudged back to the cabin.

  Dulcie hadn’t made supper, but Rye would’ve been surprised if she had. He and Collie entered the silent cabin on their tiptoes. Collie stayed behind Rye as they tiptoed to the bedroom door. Both mother and daughter were asleep.

  Dulcie’s arm was curled around Madeline’s body, holding her close.

  Rye’s heart missed a beat then hammered against his ribs. Terrified of the strangling emotion, he backed out of the room, nearly stumbling over Collie.

  “Is she . . .” Collie couldn’t finish his question.

  Rye cleared his throat. “They’re sleeping. Both of them must be tuckered out.”

  Collie sighed in relief.

  “What do you say we cook supper tonight?” Rye asked the boy, hoping to keep his mind off Madeline.

  He canted his head. “Men don’t cook.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Nobody. I just never seen a man cook before.”

  “Then you’re in for a special treat.” Rye pasted a smile on his face and kept his tone light.

  Dulcie and Madeline continued to sleep as Rye prepared supper. He ensured Collie was always busy, whether it be stirring something or pumping water or setting the table.

  Dulcie walked out of the bedroom as Rye and Collie sat down to eat. Rye immediately rose and filled a plate for her.