“Thank you, Doctor.” Armstead pumped his hand. “Thank you.”
“Thank God.” And thank Forsythia.
After a quick cold supper with the Nielsens, he and Jesse headed home, completely spent. The rest of the addition’s roof would have to wait. On the sidewalk outside his office, as his tired fingers fumbled to undo the door latch, Mrs. Jorgensen stepped outside, closing up the store for the night.
Did she know about her grandson’s accident? Likely not, since the Armsteads wouldn’t have come by here on their way to the Nielsens’. Anthony had told him that a friend who was haying with them had heard that Adam was out helping at the sisters’ homestead, so they’d gone directly there. But just in case . . .
“Mrs. Jorgensen.” He cleared his throat. “Your grandson was bitten by a rattlesnake this morning.”
Her head snapped up.
“He will recover, I assure you. I just wanted to let you know, should you hear anything about it in town. He had a rough go of it, but I believe he will be fine.”
“Do you, really?” Her voice dripped with doubt. “Didn’t try any newfangled treatments on him, did you?”
“No.” His defenses rose. How could this woman do that? “I incised and applied suction to the wound and packed it in cold cloths. Miss Forsythia Nielsen assisted me, and she knew of some herbal remedies from her mother that seemed to prove helpful.”
“Hmph. Sounds like she was more use than you were.” Mrs. Jorgensen locked the store door with a snap, then turned and stomped around the corner toward their house behind.
Adam swallowed back any words he might retort. Lord, why do I let that woman irritate me like this? I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with. She’d have heard the news from her family tomorrow.
He opened the door, letting him and Jesse into the welcoming shadows of their rooms.
If even saving—or helping to save—her grandson’s life wasn’t going to change Mrs. Jorgensen’s mind, he might as well give up and leave it in God’s hands, as he should have done to begin with. It would save him a lot of grief.
27
Mail for you, Miss Nielsen.”
Larkspur took the envelopes Mr. Jorgensen handed her across the store counter. A letter from Anders! It had been a while, though they’d all written to him and Josephine several times since they got settled on their homestead. What a treat to share with her sisters as soon as she got home. Another letter from the Herrons too.
“Will that be all, then?” The storekeeper wrapped the silk ribbons Lark had chosen in brown paper.
“Yes, thank you.” A small thing to come to town for today, but Forsythia, Del, and Lilac had taken the notion to trim up their best dresses a bit more before the harvest celebration tonight. Lark didn’t care much for frills and furbelows, so she’d offered to come get the ribbon while the girls added ruffles and tucks.
“How goes the school teaching for your sister?” Mr. Jorgensen was chatty today. Must be the excitement about tonight, which seemed to have spread through the town like locusts. It must have been a while since most folks had a real social occasion.
“Del is enjoying it. They closed the school for the last two weeks, though, since most of her students were busy with harvest.” Lark paid the storekeeper and made her escape. She needed to get back to the farm in time for the evening milking before they dressed for the celebration.
Humid air hit her face as she stepped out the door, unseasonably warm for early October. A gust of wind scattered leaves and dry grasses down the dirt street. Was it getting warmer? Lark glanced up at the sky while she untied Starbright from the hitching post. Some dark clouds were building. Was a fall thunderstorm on its way? For her sisters’ sake, she hoped it wouldn’t dampen the gathering tonight.
Lark swung up on Starbright and rode toward home.
Around her spread the prairie was severe and brown. A triangle of geese honked overhead, heading south. Everywhere, everyone was getting ready for winter. They’d begun their own small harvest, storing the cabbages and root vegetables in the cellar Jesse had helped dig in a rise behind the house. They’d learned from Mr. Caldwell that the Skinners had planned to do just that but not gotten around to it. So much love had gone into this place and then been destroyed.
Dr. Adam, as he’d asked them to call him, hadn’t been able to help at the homestead as much lately, as his practice had finally picked up these past couple of months.
Larkspur reached home, stabled Starbright in the three-sided shelter they’d put up for the animals for now, and entered the soddy waving the letters.
“Guess what I picked up along with your ribbons.” She tossed the brown-paper package onto Del’s lap. Her sisters looked up from where they sat gathered by the one window and open door for light, stitching on dresses piled in their laps. Sofie squealed and pounced on the package.
“Sorry, little one, it’s not a treat for you this time.”
“Is it from Anders? Read it to us while we sew.” Lilac tossed back her dark curls.
Leaning in the doorframe, Lark opened the envelope. Far off, thunder rumbled. She glanced out at the lowering sky. “Looks like we might get a storm.”
Lilac shook her head. “I refuse to believe it. Nothing is going to spoil tonight.”
“It may blow on past long before. Don’t borrow trouble.” Del was ever practical. “Go on, Lark, read.”
Lark chuckled and began.
My dear family,
We are well and hope you all are too. It seems so long since we have seen your faces, though it has only been months. We do have some news of our own. We are expecting a little one to be born in this house come March. Josephine is tired but well and sends her
