A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(75)
At first Del could barely see a thing within the darkness of the soddy, as there was no lamp burning within. The stench of sickness hit her hard, making her gag. She pressed a hand to her mouth. Chin up, Del. She could almost hear Ma’s steady voice from when she’d accompanied her on sick calls as a girl.
Del lowered her hand and made out the form of a woman struggling to rise from a chair where she’d been watching a pot of something over the dying fire.
“Ma.” Bethany set down the milk pail, the handle clanging, and hurried to support her mother. Mrs. Kinsley leaned heavily on her daughter’s shoulder, the bulge of her belly evident even in the firelight. “My teacher’s come.”
“Miss Nielsen.” The woman shook her head with a half sob. “I—I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want you to see—we’re in such a mess. . . .”
Del stepped forward to steady her and eased her back into the chair. “Please, Mrs. Kinsley, don’t trouble yourself. We’re here to help.”
The pregnant woman leaned back against the roughhewn chair, her breath coming in shallow gasps. As Del tucked the shawl closer about her, she could feel the rapid thunder of her pulse. Yet she didn’t sense fever, nor smell the sickness on her.
She glanced around the cramped room, now more distinct as her eyes had adjusted. A table shoved in the corner, still covered with dirty dishes. Discarded rags on the floor, as if attempts to clean up some mess had been abandoned. Pallets in the corner where the children must sleep.
And on the other side, a rope-strung bedstead where a man lay sprawled and snoring atop rumpled bedding, still wearing his pants and boots, though his shirt and coat had been shed. Del could smell the noxious odor from his union suit and bedding, and her stomach roiled.
So that was Mr. Kinsley. Passed out drunk.
Del turned to RJ. “Go get Adam. Or Forsythia, if he’s still not back. In that case, bring Reverend Pritchard—no, never mind, he’s in Antelope Creek. Mr. Caldwell, then, or whoever you can find.”
He met her gaze. “You’ll be all right?” His eye flicked a hard glance at the man on the bed, then at the rifle over the doorway.
“I don’t think he’s going to cause trouble any time soon. But yes, I know how to shoot.”
RJ gave her one more look, then reached out to give her hand a brief, unexpected squeeze. “I’ll hurry.” And he was out the door into the creeping dusk.
Del found a lamp and helped Mrs. Kinsley into a nightgown, then onto one of the children’s pallets, since the bed was rendered unusable for now. After tucking an extra quilt around the woman, she set Bethany and John to bringing in wood, stoked the fire, then swung a kettle of water over the snapping flames.
Once it boiled, Del dipped some water into a basin and set to cleaning the table. When it was as decent as she could make it, she washed some bowls and ordered the children to serve themselves some stew, then took the pan outside to dump the dirty water.
The evening star winked above her in the darkening sky. Del’s throat ached, her heart whispering more prayers than she had strength to voice.
Lord, please bring help soon.
22
Anger burned in RJ’s chest.
What a despicable excuse for a man, laid out drunk while his wife and children suffered. Directly by his hand, from what Del had said and from what he could see in that little girl’s bruised face. Having unhitched the Brownsvilles’ horse from their wagon, he urged the mare forward over the darkening prairie toward Salton, riding bareback as the sun set in streaks of vermilion and orange.
Yet that fire in Del’s gray-blue eyes, mirroring the feeble firelight in the Kinsleys’ soddy. The firmness in her voice as she took charge. He hadn’t seen strength like that since his ma died. He’d hated to leave her in such a place, but the command from Del’s lips brooked no question. That, too, was like his ma.
After far too long, he reached the Brownsvilles’ and swung down from the horse. “Adam? Forsythia?”
He noted with relief that the gig stood in the yard. Looping the mare’s reins to the rail, RJ bounded up the porch steps.
Adam met him at the door, face weary and questioning.
Regret twinged. RJ could only guess the grueling day the doctor had already known, and now he was dragging him out for yet another crisis. But such was a physician’s life, especially on the frontier.
“Sorry, but Del needs you.”
He explained as quickly as he could, then headed to the stable while Adam fetched his bag and Forsythia packed up some food. No telling when they’d be back. He gave the mare a quick brush down along with oats, then led Captain out of his stall. Barker wagged his tail beside them, no doubt hoping to come along.
“Ready to give us some help tonight, fella?” He ran his hand down the stallion’s broad nose and chuckled at the answering snort. Captain hadn’t been getting enough riding lately, not with RJ so tied up at the boardinghouse. Well, tonight should make up for it. He’d ride his mount out while the doctor drove the gig pulled by another horse, then hitch Captain to the wagon coming back.
“Ready?” Adam appeared in the barn door.
RJ nodded and cinched Captain’s saddle, then led the horse outside. “Sorry, Barker, you’re going to have to sit this one out.” He rubbed the dog’s head between his hands, then sent him to the porch, where Forsythia let him inside.