Page 60 of Wagon Train Promises
Apart from God, her only other hope was Joe. But he’d been gone a long time. Had he not been able to find the medicinal he’d hoped to find?
Or had the sickness hit him while on the trail?
CHAPTER 15
Cecil kept his arms crossed and his face blank, not wanting to worry the others. Walt had gone hunting. Bertie sat in his customary spot, holding his cats and rocking back and forth. Hazel seemed intent on keeping busy with Petey. Cecil had given up the pretense of being occupied with other things. Louise had dark shadows under her eyes. Several times, he’d seen her stumble. He put it down to fatigue because he couldn’t deal with the other possibility—that she was sick and doing her best to ignore it.
If only Joe would return. But Cecil began to suspect that Joe had fallen ill on the trail.
This helpless feeling made him grind his teeth back and forth. He welcomed the ache in his jaw from the pressure he exerted. If he saw Louise falter again, he’d ignore her order to stay away.
In the meantime—he sighed—the best thing he could do was keep busy. With three fires going, there was a constant need for wood, and he strode down the river to a grove he hadn’t already cleared of deadfall.
His arms full enough he couldn’t see his footing, he headed back to camp and dropped the wood, the crash drawing the attention of those who weren’t too weak to look.
The sound echoed. It took Cecil a second to realize it wasn’t an echo. It was a horse approaching. He reached for his rifle, ready for whatever it was.
“Hello.”
Recognizing Joe’s voice, he put the rifle aside.
The scout rode in. He gave a quick glance to the camps as if counting people, maybe assessing if any more had grown ill, and then he rode toward the fire where Louise tended the sick. “Brought something that might help.” He handed her a leather pouch. “Boil this and then have them drink small amounts until they’ve had a couple of cups each.”
Louise set to work.
Joe dismounted and looked at Hazel. “You and Little Warrior didn’t get sick?”
“We’re fine.”
“I’ll take care of my horse, and then I’ll have some of that.” He nodded toward the cooking pot.
Hazel put Petey down, handed him his ball, and told him to stay there before she crossed to the fire, lifted the lid, and stirred the stew.
Cecil cocked his head. Was she humming?
Of course, she was relieved to think Joe’s remedy might make her mother better.
By the time Joe returned, Louise had his concoction simmering. While the others ate, she served the cooled mixture to each of those who were ill. She continued to ply them with the drink throughout the day. By evening, Pa was sitting up and asking for food.
Louise said only broth and tea to begin with.
“Thank You, God,” Cecil said.
Walt had returned and said, “Amen to that.”
Cecil allowed himself only two hours of sleep that night. He took his turn watching the camp, made sure Louise had plenty of firewood and watched her urging the ladies to drink the herbal tea.
By morning, Irene was allowed broth. By midmorning, Angela and Ruby were as well.
“Marnie?” he whispered as he handed breakfast to Louise. He glanced toward Bertie, hoping he couldn’t hear.
“No change.” Louise’s voice shook.
Ignoring her order to stay away, to avoid contact, he squeezed her shoulder.
The way she sank into his embrace he knew she was at the end of her strength.
“You can’t keep this up much longer. Let me help.”
