Jodi Thomas (40 page)

“He should know,” Chance answered. “I’ve talked with him several times. His tribe’s not the kind to brag, but I gathered that he’s much respected by his people in these parts. If he says there will be no trouble, he’s probably right.”

Tobin nodded, agreeing with Chance’s assessment of Sourdough. “I stopped by to see if you think it’s safe enough for me to bring the kids back. I kind of miss that little monkey, Maggie, around the place. Till I ran into you last winter I can’t say as I cared much about anythin’. Now I feel like I got a family. I figure in a few years when I get too old to run around the country, you and Anna will kind of take care of me in my old age.”

“Don’t plan on it,” Chance said, laughing.

Tobin shrugged as if he’d give his planned retirement another shot some other time.

Chance looked toward the dugout as Anna stepped to the door. She was dressed, but her hair was still wild and free down her back and as always the sight of her made his heart catch in his throat. Even in her brown work dress and muslin apron, she looked like the finest lady he’d ever seen. She smiled at Chance, then asked Tobin to stay for breakfast.

Tobin jumped at the offer of food with much thanks, knowing full well that Anna had already set him a place. He winked at Chance as if to tell the younger man that his hope for a place in retirement was not lost.

Chance watched Anna disappear into the cabin as he asked, “When do you think you’ll be back?”

“Two, maybe three days. I have to wait on some supplies Carl needs.” Tobin chuckled as he studied Chance. “Damned if you ain’t the most bit man I ever seen.”

“Shut up, old man,” Chance answered as he walked to the house. But he couldn’t resist touching Anna as he passed her, and even Tobin’s laughter couldn’t slow the fire that was already building. Watching Anna move, Chance knew he’d spend the day wishing for nightfall and thinking of Anna in his arms. He saw no shame in loving his wife. Even if she never came to feel the same, he knew he’d never stop loving her. Tobin’s teasing was rooted in envy, but no one would envy Chance come January when he had to say good-bye or else break his word to Anna.

Anna playfully pushed Chance away as he patted her and tried to hide her enjoyment of his mock disappointment. “Do you think we could have the house finished by the time the girls return?”

Chance nodded and Anna turned back to the stove, missing Tobin’s wink at Chance as he said, “Depends on how much else you’ve got to do, son.”

The girls returned to their new home a few days later. Maggie loved her loft. It was the first time she’d had a place of her own. She climbed up and down the ladder in excitement. Cherish’s crib was placed close to the fire in the bedroom, but Anna promised Maggie that as soon as Cherish was able to walk she could sleep in the loft also.

The dugout had been warm and cozy as their first home, but the cabin was well lit and smelled of freshly cut wood. There was a sense of digging in roots as each peg was hammered home.

Anna had never known the happiness of a true home where the rooms were filled with love. She’d wake early just to listen to the sounds of the house: the timber creaking in the roof and the slight tap of shutters in the wind. And inside she treasured the crackle of a low fire and the steady sound of Chance breathing at her side. When she heard these sounds she’d smile to herself with the pure joy of being home at last.

Fall brought a peace that none in the cabin had ever experienced. Chance finished harvesting the crops, then turned his labors to building a shed beside the barn and a wide porch for the house. Anna braided rugs from rags and gathered their first honey crop. The honey and wax brought a good price in town, thanks to Tobin’s bartering skills.

As winter closed in around them, Anna bought material and yarn. She enjoyed the quiet afternoons watching Maggie and Cherish while she sewed. But the best time of all was when the girls were asleep and she was alone with Chance. Each night he’d go out to check the stock while she bathed and dressed for bed. When he returned there was always a fire in his eyes and his hair would be damp from his swim in the creek. They’d sit and share a last cup of coffee together by the fire, then he’d pull her into his arms with a hunger that surprised and thrilled her.

“The nights,” Anna whispered to herself as she rocked a fussy Cherish one cold morning, “the nights are heaven.”

Cherish coughed, shaking her tiny body and startling Anna out of her daydream.

“Hush, darling, and sleep,” Anna whispered.

But Cherish didn’t sleep. Each time she closed her eyes the cough came again, rattling her body.

By the time Chance came in for lunch, tiny lines of worry marred Anna’s face.

Chance’s sharp eye took in the cold stove and the breakfast dishes still on the table. He dropped his ax at the door and knelt beside Anna. “What is it?”

Cherish coughed and Anna tried to keep from crying as she answered, “She keeps coughing and she’s hot, real hot. I’ve tried to give her milk but she won’t take any. She won’t even play with Maggie.”

Putting his arm around Anna’s shoulder, Chance tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry; babies get colds. We’ve been lucky so far: Six months and she hasn’t had a sniffle.” He couldn’t bring himself to say how many folks lost their children before the tiny ones had even had time enough to have a birthday. Almost every homestead in this country had a tiny grave behind it.

Chance stood and warmed his hands by the fire, then took Cherish from Anna. “You relax a minute. Maybe I can walk her to sleep.” He began to pace with the baby in his arms.

Leaning her head against the wall, Anna forced herself to relax. When she’d been alone she’d been terrified, but now Chance was with her. Now there was someone to help, someone to share the worry. She watched her tall man with the tiny girl in his arms. He was patting Cherish on the back as he walked, and keeping up a rhythm of nonsense talk that only Cherish seemed to understand.

Anna fixed a cold lunch, but Maggie was the only one who ate it and Chance didn’t return to his work, but stayed to help Anna instead. The look he shot her over Maggie’s head told Anna that he too knew it wasn’t just a sniffle. With each hour her cough grew worse, shaking her small frame with each spell.

They took turns walking Cherish and playing with Maggie, but by nightfall even little Maggie knew something was very wrong.

“I’ll build the fire up real high and then get some water from the stream.” Chance lifted the bucket. “We’ve got to get that fever down, but we don’t want her catching a chill.”

Anna stared at her child, who’d been so healthy only hours ago. Now she looked pale and thin. Her tiny body was hot to the touch and she hadn’t eaten in hours. She was so tired from coughing that she whimpered no matter what Anna did. Cherish’s breathing sounded raspy, and Anna knew that fluid was already starting to fill her lungs.

Chance and Anna paced beside the crib all night. When Cherish got too hot, they’d bathe her and then wrap her to keep her from a chill. Chance tried a mixture of the fever tea he’d used with Anna, but they couldn’t get Cherish to swallow any.

Finally, Anna sat in the center of the bed and held her close. “I feel so helpless. We have no medicine.” The realization of just how alone they were hit full force. Back in Germany there had always been a doctor in town and old women whose families had weathered every illness. Now there was no one to turn to for advice.

Chance wrapped a blanket around Anna’s shoulders. “I could ride to Fredericksburg, but I doubt I’d find much help.”

Anna gripped his arm. “No! It’s too cold. You’d never make it back in time.” Tears spilled from her eyes as she realized what the words
in time
meant.

The morning brought only exhaustion and a baby now too weak to cry out when the coughing spells hit. They could hear the rattle in her chest each time she breathed. Maggie came down to breakfast, her eyes puffy from crying. “I could hear you talking and walking down here last night. I’ve seen babies cough like that. Cherish is real sick, isn’t she?”

Chance lifted Maggie into his arms. “Yes, darling, she’s real sick.”

“Can you make it better?” She said the words as if she truly believed her big brother could do anything.

He smiled at his little sister. “We’ll try.”

But by afternoon, Cherish’s skin was pale and she looked wasted and thin. Chance looked up at Anna, worry aging his face far more than work ever would. “We’ve got to get some liquid down her fast.” He pushed his thumb against Cherish’s tiny arm and stared as the imprint of his soft touch did not disappear.

Anna was to the point of complete panic. “I’ve tried milk. She can’t keep it down, and she won’t take the tea or even water.” She saw what she feared reflected in Chance’s face. Cherish was dying.

Pulling her baby close to her, Anna prayed, “Don’t let her die. Please, God, don’t let her die.”

Chance turned away without a word. He couldn’t stand to see Anna fall apart. He knew how important Cherish was to her, and that Anna saw the child as her only chance at loving or being loved. Why couldn’t she see that he loved her too? Why couldn’t she turn to him instead of pulling more and more into herself as each hour passed?

An idea hit him with such a force that he ran from the room, optimism touching his heart for the first time all day. Within seconds he was back with a jug of honey. Anna watched him, one last ray of hope in her eyes.

He dipped a clean rag into the tea he’d made from brewing a branch of the spicebush, then layered the damp rag with thick honey. He knelt beside Anna. Cherish rested quietly in her lap, too weak even to cry.

Chance lay the rag against the baby’s tiny pale lips. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Cherish began to suck on the rag. The honey coated her throat, quieting the cough, and the warm tea eased her fever.

The next few hours tiptoed slowly through the cabin, bringing the soft patter of hope. Maggie fell asleep at the foot of the bed, and hour after hour they bathed and rocked the baby. When she awoke they gave her more of the honey-laced tea, and each time she seemed to take a few more swallows. Now the rattle in her chest lessened.

Anna curled beside Maggie and closed her eyes for a moment to rest as Chance sat by the fire with Cherish. When Anna looked up, she realized she’d been asleep for some time. Cherish’s coughing had stopped, and the silence was shattering.

Panic deep inside her brought her to her feet. Hurrying to the fire, she knelt beside Chance. Cherish was sleeping quietly on his chest as he leaned back against the wall. Anna touched her daughter’s forehead and felt no fever for the first time in two days. Then she touched the black hair falling across Chance’s forehead. He was sound asleep, but the worry lines were still etched in his face. He was in bad need of a shave and his clothes were wrinkled and stained, but the steady rhythm of his breathing had lulled Cherish to sleep, her arms outstretched, her face tucked under his chin.

Leaning against him, Anna kissed him lightly. At this moment, in spite of all the wrinkles, whiskers, and stains, this man before her was the most handsome man in the world.

Chance opened his eyes and smiled at her. “The fever broke,” he whispered as he lifted Cherish.

Anna carefully carried her baby to the crib. She felt a blessing had been handed to her, a blessing she already possessed but never cherished until now. “We’d better get you to bed also.”

He stood and stretched his long, tired muscles. “Let’s make a pallet for Maggie. I don’t want her sleeping in the loft and waking up afraid.”

Anna threw a heavy quilt beside their bed. “She’ll be warm here. That north wind is really starting to howl.” Anna wondered how she could talk calmly about the weather when she wanted to shout for joy.

Chance lowered Maggie to her bed, threw a few more logs on the fire, then sank into bed with a low sigh of exhaustion. Anna lay beside him, resting her head on his chest. He pulled her tightly against him and kissed the top of her head. They were both too tired even to undress.

Anna curled in his arms and cried, releasing all the fear she’d held inside. Even now she couldn’t stop listening for Cherish’s next cough. But Chance held her tightly and whispered in her ear until she fell asleep on much the same spot her daughter had.

Morning dawned with Cherish’s cry. She was weak, but the cough had not returned. Anna greeted the morning with a smile as she looked outside to find winter’s first snow thick upon the ground.

Chance took the day off to play with Cherish and tease Maggie. It was as though he felt he had to make up for the hard day of worry with a day of leisure. Cherish was fussy and nowhere suited her but Chance’s arms. He’d lean her against his chest and hold her with one hand as he moved about the cabin.

Anna made hot apple cider and oven cakes for lunch. The cakes weren’t cakes at all, but potatoes split open, roasted, and spread thick with bacon drippings. Just as they sat down to eat, Carl and Selma hurried in without knocking.