The Brides of Chance Collection Part 57

Lovejoy didn't bother to ask where everyone was when they reached Chance Ranch. She could hear the girls' coughs from the barnyard. "Hoo-oooo-eeyy. They's a-barkin' all right."

"It's not whooping cough, is it?" Worry tightened his features as he dismounted.

"Rest your mind. That ain't nothin' like the whoopin' cough." Lovejoy accepted her valise from him after he helped her down. "I aim to make poultices for the la.s.sies. They'll reek to high heaven, and the smell's likely to send poor Delilah into spasms. Best I prepare them o'er in your cabin. We cain have Miriam bring her babe in there, too."

Some things could be done by rote. Dicing onions and mustard, frying them in lard, and fixing them into poultices was stinky, but Lovejoy did it automatically. The girls stumbled along on their own, and Daniel brought along the cradle as Miriam toted Caleb into the girls' cabin. "Tuck 'em in and be sh.o.r.e they all have socks on their feet."

"I don't wanna eat that. It's yucky," Ginny Mae whined.

"You don't have to eat it," Lovejoy promised. "Now clamber into the bed with your sister. Dan'l, I want their heads up higher. How 'bout you go stuff a couple feed sacks with hay? Those'll be right fine extry pillows."

"I've got extra pillows."

"Don't aim to use 'em. The stink'll get a-holt of the feathers and won't turn loose. Oh, one more thing: I got a mind to put together a stock of essentials for this ranch. Keepin' the girls out of the stuff 's important. What say I use that loft up there?"

"As long as you move the ladder afterward so they can't climb up."

Once Daniel stepped out, Lovejoy pointed her chin toward the chair. "Miriam, go have a seat. I venture your son ain't sucklin' none too good, what with his nose all stuffy."

"He's not, but I know he's hungry."

"Wipe his nose best you cain. I aim to have him catch a whiff of camphor. That'll holp."

A few minutes later, Miriam had a shawl over her shoulder. "It's working. He's doing better."

The plasters worked, too. By suppertime both girls still coughed but were able to eat soup and a biscuit. Caleb wasn't as cranky, either. Miriam decided to take him back to her place. Daniel fetched himself a cup of coffee and brought back a mug for Lovejoy. She smiled her thanks.

"So are they cured?"

"Nope. We got the symptoms reined in. This'll play out another two, three days. Coughs like to stay 'round for 'bout a week all told. Gotta keep 'em sippin' warm drinks, breathin' steam from the teakettle, and lying 'round. Don't want it to sink into pneumony."

"You'll come back tomorrow?"

Lovejoy gave him an amused look. "I aim to stay here. If you'll keep an eye on the sprouts, I'll go see 'bout holpin' the mamas-to-be."

"But you can't stay here. This cabin and mine are connected."

"I'm a proper woman, and I 'spect yore a proper man. Decent folk ain't gonna imagine any horseplay, 'specially with sick young'uns at hand. Come bedtime, you'll kiss your daughters and go mind yore own business for the night, and I'll bolt yon door that goes to yore place."

Booted out. She'd gone and done whatever she deemed necessary for Delilah and Alisa then had come back and booted him right out of the girls' cabin. Daniel sat on his bed and strained to hear if they needed him. All he heard were his daughters' coughs and the soothing murmurs of a mountain woman.

He didn't like this one bit.

Two minutes later he slammed his door and walked out through the yard to the door of the girls' cabin. He didn't want to go through the hallway. No skulking around for him, no sir. He was heading out there where every last man jack on the place could see and hear him so no one would misconstrue this as anything improper.

He raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles made contact, the door opened.

Lovejoy let out a surprised squeak. "Is something a-wrong?"

"What's wrong is, those are my girls. I don't leave 'em with strangers. They need me."

"They need water." Lovejoy stuck the bucket she'd been holding into his hands and promptly shut the door again.

Chapter 9.

Vexed that he hadn't gained entrance, yet equally irritated with himself for not having seen to such a basic need, Daniel stomped to the water pump. Water splashed over the brim and dampened his fingers. His temper cooled. If anything, this gave him an excuse to march straight back into the cabin.

The door opened. "Thankee, Dan'l." Lovejoy reached for the bucket.

He ignored her and brushed right past. Wordlessly, he topped off the pitcher on the washbasin and sloshed more water into the empty pot on the stove.

"That's kindly of you." Lovejoy shut the door but stood by it.

Daniel knew she wanted him to leave; he turned away, picked up a log, and opened the grate on the potbelly.

"I just added a log. The fire's fine."

"It'll grow cold soon." He prodded the log already in there to make s.p.a.ce.

"When that time comes, I'll add to the fire. No use wastin' wood or makin' the cabin smoky."

Any other woman saying those words would be quibbling; Lovejoy said them so calmly and quietly, Daniel couldn't very well grouse.

"No use having a hardworkin' man chop more wood when the fire's already fine." She gestured toward his daughters. They'd slept through the whole exchange. "Peaceable as a pair of played-out kittens."

"They're coughing."

"Aye, they are. I'm not aimin' to stop all the coughin'. Best that they bring up what ails 'em 'stead of keeping down low in their lungs. You needn't fret, Dan'l. I'll keep a weather eye on your precious la.s.ses."

"You're a stubborn little woman, aren't you?"

Lovejoy hitched one shoulder. "Reckon there's a heap of truth behind that. I wrastle the enemy called sickness. Gotta be just as hardheaded and dauntless as him. If 'n you went to battle, you wouldn't want no one marchin' alongside you that would turn tail and run at the first skirmish. You come and got me to fight for your daughters. I ain't gonna flee jist 'cuz you suddenly ain't sh.o.r.e I cain stay awake on my watch."

"I'm not a man to ask others to fight my battles. They're my daughters."

"No one said contrary. Problem is, you're a-comin' to this battle unarmed. You ain't got the proper weapons for the enemy of illness. Like it or nay, your daughters need me. You fetched me; standing here all night argufying ain't doin' them a lick of good."

Her words carried a sting of truth. Daniel looked over at his precious babies. "They're sleeping fine now."

"That they are. I give 'em another hour or so; then they'll be needin' some elixir. 'Round 'bout the wee hours, they'll start barkin' regardless of what they already took. Onion and mustard poultices again then. The bitty one, she's got a raw edge to her cough. I reckon she'll need sommat to soothe her wee throat then. I'm fixin' to whip up some sage gargle for her. Come first light, they'll settle down and want to sleep; but afore I let 'em, I'll have to get a pint of apple cider mulled with yarbs into each of them."

"You sound mighty sure of yourself."

Lovejoy took her shawl off the peg closest to the door.

Daniel's heart lurched into his throat. What kind of idiot am I? My girls need help- "I'm fixin' to check them dog roses Delilah planted to see if 'n I cain spy another hip. They're a right fine thing to give these young'uns. Mild enough for Miriam's little man-child, too. I aim to go get what's needed. Best you take a few minutes here with your la.s.sies and decide what you want to do. I cain't fight you and the sickness."

The door shut. She'd left, but with the implied promise that she'd return. Plainspoken as she'd been, her voice never took on a bite. She kept a soft tone so the girls wouldn't be disturbed. Daniel stood over his daughters and fingered the sweet little twirly curls that invariably sneaked from their braids and framed their cherubic faces.

They need their mama so badly right now.

The door whispered open and shut. Lovejoy's raggedy skirt swirled about her ankles as she set the latch. " 'Tis a wicked cold wind for a summer night."

"When it blasts from the ocean, that happens." He frowned as she went to the washstand and set down a single rose hip. "One? You only got one?"

Her head bobbed. "One's what G.o.d provided. 'Twould be a waste to get more, anyhow. Moon-gathered hips carry a moisture that causes them to mold. I took just what the young'uns require this night. Tomorra I'll search about. If I spy more, I'll gather them, 'cuz they cain be stored away."

Thin shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath, Lovejoy said, "Whilst I was outside, I did some soul searching. Those be your la.s.sies, and you've done a right fine job with them, Dan'l Chance. That's saying a mouthful, seein' as you do it on your lonesome. Cain't be easy on you or them. Cain't say as I blame you for frettin' 'bout leaving them in a stranger's care."

She tugged her shawl about herself more closely and continued. "Back home, folks know me. I earned their trust. To you I'm nothing more than a hillbilly woman with a sackful of leaves and twigs and a boastful mouth. What say I meet you halfway?"

"Halfway?" He couldn't fathom how perceptive she was.

"I'll brew up the elixir and make ready everything for the plasters now. Onc't I'm done, we'll give the girls a dose, and I'll stay out in the stable. When I judge it time for the plasters, I'll come in and fry 'em up for you."

"You're not staying in that stable!"

A sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Dan'l, lotsa places in Kentuck got grand houses full of book-learned folks a-wearin' fine clothes. The holler ain't like that. Your stable's better built and likely warmer than any shack back in Salt Lick Holler. Won't bother me none."

"You can't do that. You can't sleep out there."

She started concocting her elixir. Amus.e.m.e.nt tinged her voice. "Sleepin' wasn't in my plans for tonight."

The door jiggled. "Lovejoy?"

"Miriam," Lovejoy murmured the name just loud enough to acknowledge her presence, yet calmly so as not to disturb Daniel's daughters. She'd wheeled around and gotten the door unlatched before Daniel made it around the girls' bed.

"He's sleeping, but that rattle in his chest-" Miriam's voice broke.

Gideon followed his wife in and wore an equally anguished expression.

"Let's have us a look-see."

Dan stood behind Miriam and Gideon as Lovejoy pulled what looked to be an oldfashioned powder horn from her satchel. "Now you jist hold that sweet little man-child 'gainst you. I aim to loosen his swaddling clothes and have me a listen." Lovejoy pressed the wide, open end of the horn to Caleb's tiny back and rested her ear to the opening of the horn. She moved it about to listen a few other places then straightened up.

"Well?" Gideon rasped.

"Mullein ought to do him right fine. I got me some leaves. Makin' the tea's the easy part. Think you cain get him to drink it if 'n we put it in a salt shaker?"

Miriam clutched her son tightly. "We'll do anything."

"Gideon Chance, I'll be askin' you to fetch a rockin' chair for your wife. A quilt, too, on account it's gonna be a long night. Cain you do that?"

While Gideon went on that errand, Lovejoy found what she wanted in that satchel of hers. "Best I not fix things in the same pot. Dan'l, do you have a pot or kettle o'er in that cabin o' yourn?"

It wasn't long before Lovejoy had several things going on the potbelly stove. Though he'd seen women at a stove much of his life, Daniel hadn't watched one do it to end up with the collection she arranged in tubes, vials, cups, and a pie tin. The mullein tea stayed in a cup, but Lovejoy carefully measured a few teaspoons into an emptied saltshaker. Binding a handkerchief over the opening, she said, "No race to get this down your wee man-child. Let him nuzzle it down through the cloth."

Later, though the kids didn't seem much better or worse, Lovejoy fried up the plasters. Daniel's eyes burned-partly from the fumes of the onions, partly from the fact that weariness left his eyes grainy. When that treatment was finished, Lovejoy nudged his boot with her foot. "Them la.s.ses are wantin' your warmth and comfort, Papa. Kick off them puddle stompers and shimmy betwixt 'em. If we keep their heads raised, their breathin' will stay eased."

Daniel didn't crawl beneath the blankets. With the fire going, the cabin felt like a giant oven. He lay atop the bed, and each of his daughters wiggled and squirmed until finally nestling into his side.

Lovejoy went to Miriam and held out her arms. Miriam kissed her son and handed him over. "What should we do next?"

"Drag the rocker to the far corner. I'll plop down a crate so's you cain put up yore feet. Time's come for you to grab a bit of shut-eye. We cain't have you takin' sick."

"I'm healthy as a horse."

Daniel absently rubbed his thumbs down his daughters' b.u.mpy braids and listened to their raspy breaths while watching Lovejoy coax Miriam into wrapping up in a quilt for a rest. Daniel glanced away then looked back. By an odd twist in life, he and Gideon had ended up wedded to sisters. When Miriam arrived a little over a year ago, Dan mistook her for Hannah. Any similarity between them no longer registered. All he saw now was a frazzled, weary woman.

"Miriam." He cleared his throat. "Go on through the hallway to my bed. You'll sleep better there."

She rested her head against the pressboard back of the oak rocker. "Thank you, Daniel, but knowing Lovejoy's just a step away makes me feel Caleb will be safe. I wouldn't be able to close my eyes if she weren't here."

"You prob'ly didn't sleep none last night," Lovejoy said as she walked the floor with Caleb over her shoulder.

"No, I didn't." Miriam yawned.

Hannah never lost a night's sleep when Polly was sick. The thought stunned Daniel. His hands stilled. He'd been the one to hold their sick babe through the dark hours. But Hannah was frail. Ginny Mae let out a raspy sigh, and he tugged the blanket up closer. Unbidden, the thought slipped into his mind. Polly was well past her first year before Ginny was conceived. In those months, when Polly sprouted a new tooth or had the croup, Hannah slept while I tended our girl.

Lovejoy nuzzled Caleb's temple and hummed softly as she swirled her hand on his back.

She's doing more for another woman's baby than Hannah did for our own. Daniel shook his head. Never once had he said or thought an uncomplimentary thing about his dearly departed wife. It was just weariness and worry.

Lovejoy eased Caleb into the cradle and approached the bed. "We need to turn the gals. Gotta move 'em so's any water in the lungs cain't settle. Think we could turn them with their backs to you, or will they sleep better if they just swap sides?"

In the end he sat up and slipped Polly across to his left side while Lovejoy carried Ginny Mae around to his right. While Polly started to burrow into a new place, Lovejoy coaxed Ginny Mae to have a few sips of water, then popped her into place and efficiently tugged up the blankets. Daniel's arms curled protectively about his precious daughters, and Lovejoy nodded.

"Yore a good man, Dan'l Chance. Them girls don't know how lucky they are to have a daddy who holds 'em close in his arms and in his heart."

By the time morning broke, Daniel held the conviction that Lovejoy would tend his daughters with diligence and care. He'd dozed off and on, but each time he opened his eyes, Lovejoy was checking his girls, stoking the fire, cradling Caleb, or measuring out a dose of something.

Lovejoy pulled on her shawl, picked up her gunnysack, and strapped on her ridiculouslooking sheath.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Now that the sun's ready to rise, the wee ones will stay sounding fair to middlin'. Onc't we hit sunset, 'twill be like last night. I've a few things to gather and get done. I shouldn't be long a-tall."

I'll come along. I don't want you getting lost.... Daniel's words echoed in Lovejoy's mind as she let herself into the main house where Gideon and Miriam lived. From the time she'd been here before, Lovejoy knew everyone ate as one big family in this kitchen. She set coffee to boiling, started a broth, and searched in vain for grits.

"Mrs. Spencer? How's my son?"