her apron to wipe his face and dry his eyes. “Uh-huh. He went for wood.”

Forsythia hauled the iron pot down to the river and filled it, then hauled the heavy pot back to the fire, where Thomas and Lilac were breaking up several branches to add to the flames.

“I’ll get more.” Thomas left again, but this time his son only sniffed and laid his head on Lilac’s shoulder. Lark dragged a huge branch into camp, dumped it, and went back out.

“I need my herbs, and I just thought of the chicken we have left. We could set it to boil.” Forsythia studied Lilac. “Why don’t you let me take Robbie and you run back to our wagon? You’re much faster than I am. Get the things we need and ride Starbright back?”

Lilac nodded. “Robbie, my sister will hold you, and I’ll be back as fast as I can so we can help your mama.”

He sniffed again and nodded, letting Forsythia take him without a whimper.

“I think he’s exhausted. I’ll have his pa put him down to sleep as soon as he gets back.”

“Good.” Lilac patted the child’s back. “Good boy.”

Forsythia swayed as Lilac had, murmuring, then singing softly as she felt Robbie relax against her. Despite the circumstances, her heart warmed at holding the little boy. Would she ever have children of her own?

Mr. Thomas returned with more wood. At Forsythia’s suggestion, he reached into the wagon for a pallet, spread it under the wagon, and tucked his son under the light blanket.

“Mr. Thomas—”

“My name is Thomas Durham.” He tipped his head slightly. “Did I hear you say your sister will bring another pot?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll—” He stopped. “Alice.” He strode back to the wagon at his wife’s call. Forsythia followed.

“Thirsty. R-Robbie?” Alice said.

“Robbie is sleeping on his pallet under the wagon. Ladies from another wagon are here to take care of you.”

Forsythia went to the fire and used her apron as a hot pad to pick up the pan of warm water. “Mr. Durham, could you please get me a spoon?”

He dug in a box and handed her one.

Climbing back up in the wagon, Forsythia tested the water and held the spoon to the woman’s lips. “A spoonful at a time. Hold it in your mouth if you can, then swallow.” Lilac, hurry. Mrs. Durham was so weak, and the baby mounding her belly . . . Lord, help her keep this down. Please, Father, help us. “More?”

Another spoonful. Lord, please. She sat down on the edge of the wagon bed and heard horse’s hooves. Thank you.

Mr. Durham had started another fire, so he took the big pot from Lilac’s hands and strode off toward the river. “Thank you,” he called back.

Lilac tied the horse to a wagon wheel and lifted the sack she’d attached to the saddle. “I have herbs here. I’m not sure what you need, so I brought several. Del is cooking the chicken so we’ll have broth.”

“She kept two spoonfuls of warm water down.”

Mrs. Durham retched, and the water drooled out her mouth.

“Guess not.” Forsythia took the pan back to the fire, where she sprinkled several herbs on the water and set it back on the rock to heat. She dipped a finger in the large pot of water and shook her head. “Not hot enough yet.”

Lark returned, dragging more branches. “It sure will be easier to find wood in the daylight, which looks to be on its way.”

“What if we bring our wagon closer?” Forsythia suggested again. “It’ll make caring for her easier.”

Lark nodded. “We’ll have to take turns sleeping. I think Mr. Durham is very near the end of his rope.”

“I wonder how long they’ve been here,” Lilac said.

Forsythia shrugged.

Mr. Durham returned with another pot of water and set it on the new fire. “I’ll go find rocks as soon as it’s light enough.”

“Mr. Durham, we’re going to give your wife a bath. Do you know if she has a clean nightdress or something to wear?”

He shook his head and shrugged at the same time. “Clothes and bedding are in the trunk.”

“When did this start?” Forsythia asked.

“Yesterday morning. She mentioned the night before when we camped that she didn’t feel well but said we should keep going, so we did.” He shook his head. “She got so sick so fast, so we stopped here by the river about midafternoon.”

“I see. Did you and Robbie eat last night?”

He nodded. “Leftover beans and biscuits.”

Lark joined the conversation. “Mr. Durham, we’re going to bring our wagon over closer as soon as we can. In the meantime, have you checked on your oxen?”

Durham shook his head. “I took ’em to drink and hobbled ’em. Heard one bellow not too long ago.”

“You feed the fires, and I’ll go see about them.” Lark stepped into the shadows.

Forsythia stirred the simmering herbs and set the kettle back from the flames to let it steep. The fragrance that rose told her it was ready. “I could use a cup.”

Mr. Durham brought one from the box in the wagon.

“Do you by any chance have any honey or molasses?”

He nodded and brought that.

Forsythia dipped tea out of the kettle, added a drop of honey, and stirred. Please, Lord, help her keep this down. With the sky lightening, she could see their patient more clearly. Holding the cup and spoon in one hand, she softly called Mrs. Durham’s name. “I brought you some herb tea to help soothe your stomach.”

A slight nod told her that Alice heard, and she opened her mouth as soon as the spoon touched her lips. She swallowed and coughed, spewing droplets all around. Her forehead wrinkled.

“Lilac, I need your help,” Forsythia called.

“I’m right here.” Lilac slid her arm under the patient’s shoulders and propped her up. This time the liquid slid down Mrs. Durham’s throat.

“Easy.” Please, Lord, please.

They waited awhile, then did it again. And waited.

Lilac gently laid Mrs. Durham back on her pallet. “Can we . . . ?” She nodded to the mess.

Forsythia nodded. “Alice, we’re going to wash you up and get you a

Вы читаете The Seeds of Change
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату