That dreaded word halted Adam’s steps. Not that he hadn’t thought it already.
“I don’t know. The fever isn’t typical for it, but it’s hard to say for sure. Children are very susceptible to cholera, and they haven’t gotten it, so that’s a good sign.”
Clark nodded, but Adam could see the worry in his face. He laid a brief hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I’ll do all I can for her, you know that.”
“I know. I hate for her to be jostled in the wagon so much.”
“Let me speak to Hayes. Perhaps he might be willing to give us an extra day of rest.”
But when Adam spoke to the wagon master, Hayes shook his head. “Tomorrow’s already Sunday, so you have that. But I can’t hold back the train any longer. You’ve seen how antsy folks are. We’ve been delayed enough as it is.”
“Even if it means putting one of our own members’ health at risk?”
“I can’t put one above the needs of the whole group.” Hayes eyed him. “You’re sure it’s nothing that puts the rest of the wagons in danger?”
“We’re taking every precaution.” Adam could tell that answer didn’t satisfy, but what more could he say?
The wagon master shook his head. “Keep me apprised.”
Adam checked on Forsythia before bed and again the next morning before the Sabbath church service.
Clark, Del, Lilac, and the children joined the others for worship, yet the group seemed sparse and forlorn without Forsythia’s steady presence.
Adam forced his gaze forward to the reverend rather than wandering back to the Durhams’ wagon. Even when she said little, Forsythia seemed to radiate peace and a quiet strength that he found himself desperately missing. He closed his eyes but couldn’t keep focused on the sermon. Lord, please heal this precious young woman. And do whatever is needed with the place she seems to have taken up in my heart. After all, Elizabeth has been gone barely over a month. Surely this is not healthy. Much less proper.
The Nielsens closed in song, as usual, yet without Forsythia’s guitar and lovely soprano.
After the service, Adam stopped by the Nielsen wagon again. Del and Lilac were washing laundry in two kettles of hot water.
“I’m trusting Mr. Hayes will see this as necessary Sabbath breaking.” Del wiped her forehead with her sleeve. “We don’t have much choice, not without an endless supply of linens.”
“I expect he will.” Adam glanced at the wagon behind. “How is she?”
Lilac shook her head. “I gave her more slippery-elm tea, but she vomited it back up. Clark is trying some broth.”
Adam met Clark coming down out of the wagon. “Any success?”
He grimaced and jumped to the ground. “Not much. She took about half of this.” He held out a tin cup.
“Shall I see her?” Adam glanced up at the wagon.
“She’s fallen asleep, I think. Maybe in a little while.”
Adam shouldn’t feel so disappointed.
After making camp that night, his evening examination sent tendrils of alarm up the doctor’s spine. Forsythia was worse. Still expelling watery diarrhea, she could hardly lift her head from the pillow. Adam felt her dry, hot cheeks and looked into her eyes. She blinked back blankly.
How he missed her gentle smile.
“We’ll take turns sitting with you tonight, Miss Nielsen. You won’t be alone. Let me see what your sisters might have for you to drink.”
He climbed out and nearly ran into Lilac, who held Sofie on her hip. “She’s been crying for Sythia. Can I hold her up just to see?”
“I’m afraid not.” Adam steered her back toward their campfire. “Where is your brother?”
“Chopping wood.” A tremor in her voice, Lilac led the way.
Clark straightened from the pile of kindling and what scraps of log they had scrounged from along the creek bank. “How is she?”
“She’s very dehydrated, I’m afraid. And weak. We’ve got to get more fluids into her.”
“What about some peppermint tea?” Del asked. “Mama always said it soothed the stomach.”
“Worth a try.”
The wagon master approached out of the shadows and nodded to the group. “She well enough to travel?”
“I’m afraid not.” Adam blew out a breath. “She needs at least another day of rest.” Probably more, but if God was merciful, a day could make a difference.
Hayes shook his head. “’Fraid we’ll have to go on without you, then.”
“What?” Clark dropped a chunk of wood.
“Can’t hold the train back any longer, not if we’re going to make it over the Rockies before snowfall. Nor risk cholera to the other wagons, or whatever she might have.” Hayes met Clark’s gaze, a trace of regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry, young Nielsen. But it’s what we’ve got to do.”
Clark gripped the ax handle and glanced at his sisters, at a rare loss for words. Del had come near, too, cradling the baby, with Robbie tagging at her heels. They stood silent, dumbfounded.
Adam met Hayes’s eyes. “If they are forced to leave the train, then I will leave too.”
“Mighty rash of you, Doctor.” The wagon master’s nostrils flared. “And mighty unfair to the rest of the folks in the wagon train. You’re the only doctor we’ve got. Better think it over.”
“I have.” Perhaps only for several seconds, but it had been enough. “As a doctor, I go where I am needed. And where I am needed right now is here.”
“Suit yourself.” Hayes spat the words, angrier than Adam had seen him yet. “And on your own head be it.” He turned on his heel and strode away.
“You didn’t have to do that, Doctor,” Clark said at last.
“I think I did.” The enormity of the decision hadn’t quite sunk in yet, but of that much he was sure. Though he probably should inform Jesse. “I’ll check on your sister again in the night.” Nodding good night, he stepped away toward his own wagon.
“What are we going to do?” he heard Lilac whisper as he walked away.
A question too big to ponder just yet. Tonight, care for Forsythia. And in the morning, ask God what step was next.
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