The two children had regarded each other dubiously at first, but now they seemed to be making friends. She’d seen Robbie sharing his carved animals with Sofie earlier, now numbering a horse, a cow, a sheep, a rooster, and a goat, thanks to Jesse’s skillful hands.
The baby whimpered, and Forsythia went to fetch him from the makeshift bed they had fashioned in the back of the wagon. Lilac warmed milk from the evening milking, and Forsythia sat to feed him, using a spoon this time. He coughed at first but then slurped eagerly, his tiny pink tongue lapping like a kitten’s.
“That’s a blessed sight to see.” Dr. Brownsville knelt beside them and laid a gentle hand on Mikael’s stomach. “His color and hydration are better.”
Forsythia dipped another spoonful. “At the rate he’s going, we’re going to wish we had a bottle or at least something larger than a spoon.”
“You might try a small tin cup.”
“I c-could make a cup.”
They both turned to Jesse, who looked up shyly from his spot by the fire.
“There’s a thought.” The doctor patted the baby and stood. “What do you have in mind?”
“I could carve one with a little sp-spout. Easier for him to d-drink from than a big cup.”
“That it would be.” Forsythia smiled at the young man. “Bless you, Jesse.”
They said their good-nights after washing up. Robbie and Sofie had fallen asleep where they sat, so Lilac and Del picked them up and tucked them into bed still in their clothes. Lark doused the fire and scattered the coals.
“’Night, Sythia.”
“’Night.” She lay down beside the baby in the wagon, heart full of gratitude. Thank you, Father, for your faithfulness today. Thank you that Mikael is taking milk. Thank you for . . .
She was asleep before she finished the prayer.
Saturday brought an early start and a whiny, clinging Sofie. Del took over with Mikael while Lark and Lilac drove the wagons, and Robbie went to play in Sarah’s wagon.
At Lark’s suggestion, Forsythia took Sofie up on Starbright with her for a while. She quieted down, gazing at everything around them with big eyes, her tiny fists clenched in the mare’s mane.
“You like this, sweet one?” Forsythia smoothed the little girl’s wispy fair hair, woven into two tiny braids by Del that morning. Sofie nodded and twisted her head to see a meadowlark spiraling into the sky. “That’s a birdie.”
“Buh-dee.”
“That’s right.” Forsythia smiled, though the headache that had been niggling at her since she woke up was pounding harder under the sun’s beating rays.
By the time she and Sofie slid down for the nooning stop, her stomach was roiling. From the motion atop the horse? Or something else?
Something else, she decided, heaving in the prairie grass behind the wagon a few moments later.
“Sythia, you all right?” Lark poked her head around the wagon.
“I hope so.” She straightened and wiped her mouth, then reached for the corner of the wagon bed, dizzy. “I—maybe not.” She bent over to retch again.
Del appeared. “Is she sick?”
“Looking that way.”
Forsythia leaned against the wagon side. Del felt her forehead. “You feel feverish. We better get you in the wagon.”
“Let’s put her in the Durhams’. Keep her separate from everyone else.”
Lark helped Forsythia climb up into the wagon, fixing a bed amid the sparser barrels and boxes. She lay down and tried to sleep, only to be woken by retching again.
By midafternoon, the runs had started. Forsythia tried to make it down out of the wagon to go in the prairie grasses each time, and again and again she failed. Her clothing and the bedding were quickly soiled with stench.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to Del, coming to give her a fresh sheet yet again.
“None of that, Sythia.” Her sister bundled the reeking sheet and smoothed out the fresh one. “Good thing Ma always taught us to keep plenty of clean linen, right?”
Lark came to check on her next.
“You all shouldn’t keep coming in,” Forsythia protested. “I might be contagious.”
“You know the rest of us have sturdier constitutions than you.” Lark smoothed the damp hair back from Forsythia’s brow. “And you were the one who was closest to Mrs. Olsen, other than the doctor.”
“The children?” She’d hardly seen Mikael all day.
“They’re fine. Robbie and Sofie are playing in our wagon, and Robbie is being quite the big brother. Del and Lilac have the baby well in hand. Don’t you worry about us. Just get yourself feeling better.” She held a cup to Forsythia’s dry lips. “See if you can sip some of this broth.”
She managed several swallows, then gagged and shook her head, falling back on the pillow.
“The doctor is coming to look in on you. He would have been here sooner, but a child stepped on a hornet up the train a ways. Started to swell up.”
“Oh no.” Forsythia covered her eyes. “I hate for him to see me like this.”
“And you care about that why?”
Forsythia moved her hands to see Lark regarding her with a meaningful quirk of brow. “I . . .” Her brain was too muddled to puzzle out an answer.
By the time Dr. Brownsville arrived, after two more bouts of vomiting, Forsythia honestly no longer cared.
He didn’t like this.
Adam sat back after examining his newest patient. Forsythia lay amid the freshly changed bedding, eyes closed, her breathing and heart rate rapid from stress and fever.
“Do you think it’s dysentery?” Clark asked from just outside the wagon.
“Good chance.” Adam closed up his bag. “She probably caught it from the Olsens. I’m glad you’re keeping her apart. It can be terribly contagious.”
“I know.” Clark chewed his lip. “I got my brother out of a Confederate prison camp.”
“Then you do know. What have you given her?”
“Broth, but she’s started to refuse it. Warm water. Del is making some slippery-elm tea, which soothes the digestive tract.”
“Good. Keep pushing the liquids, even if she tries to refuse. Dehydration is our greatest worry right now.” He climbed out of the wagon. “I’ll be back to check on her again.”
“Doctor.” Clark followed
