Angel on Earth
Part 2
Chapter 7
It was a few minutes before noon when Jarrod and Nick entered the chow hall. The big building made of logs held enough tables and chairs to seat one hundred men. The kitchen was at the far end and held three huge cast iron stoves.
The Barkleys currently had fifty-five men on their payroll. Some were already seated and eating the meal prepared by the two cooks Nick employed year round. The others were still moving through the line at the long counter that separated the dining hall from the kitchen.
It wasn’t unusual for Nick or Heath to join the men for lunch, but Jarrod’s presence was almost unheard of. The chatter that had filled the building only seconds before began to slowly give way to silence. The men glanced at one another with raised eyebrows as the two Barkley brothers remained standing at the head of the room.
Nick motioned for the men in line to continue filling their plates. When the last man had taken his chair Nick stepped forward and rested a foot on the seat of a vacant chair.
“Men, I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch. As most of you probably know by now, we had to send Phillip for Doctor Sheridan during the early hours of the morning.”
Several of the hands nodded, but no one said anything.
“Heath,...Heath is very sick.”
From the back of the room a man called, “What’s wrong with him, Nick?”
Nick looked to Jarrod. The lawyer got the impression his younger brother thought it would be best if he took over the conversation at this point. Knowing there was no point to stall or to lie, Jarrod got right to the heart of the matter.
“Heath has diphtheria.”
“Diphtheria!”
The word was exclaimed with varying degrees of shock from several parts of the vast building.
Questions flew fast and furious at the Barkley brothers. How sick was Heath? What did the doctor say his chances were of pulling through? Where did he come in contact with the dreaded disease? What did this mean for the ranch?
Nick held up a hand. It took a few moments, but finally everyone quieted.
“As I already said, Heath is very sick. His chances,...well, as Doc Sheridan said, he’s young and he’s strong so he’s got that on his side. As far as where he came in contact with the disease, we don’t know. Unfortunately, other people in Stockton are sick as well.” Nick made sure to remain vague on this last issue so the men wouldn’t realize Heath was the one who brought the disease to the area. “Everyone on the ranch is under quarantine until Doctor Sheridan says otherwise.”
One man stood.
“Yeah, Chuck?”
“What about those of us who haven’t had diphtheria?”
“I was just getting to that. After lunch I want everyone who’s been
assigned to bunkhouse eight to clear their stuff out. You can move to number
five, it’s empty right now. We’re going to turn eight into a makeshift
infirmary. It’s nearest to the well so that means easy access to water. Strip
the beds down, too. Jessybell will bring clean sheets and pillowcases. I want
you to remake the beds with the linens she gives you so they’ll be ready if we
need them. Those of us who don’t get sick will be pressed into service to help
those who do. If you’ve already had diphtheria you can’t get it again. How
many of you know for certain you’ve been sick with it at some point?”
Nick counted the hands that went up. Almost three quarters of the men
present knew they’d contracted the disease in childhood. Nick figured a few
more who didn’t raise their hands may have had it, but were too young at the
time to now recall being ill. Nonetheless, that still left a dozen or so men
who were wide open targets for the deadly disease just as Heath had been.
“What about medicine?” came the panicked question from a young man who had been among those who didn’t raise his hand. “Can’t the doc give us something ‘fore we get sick?”
Jarrod shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no. There’s no medicine available that cures diphtheria. However; quinine does reduce the high fever brought on by the disease which in turn allows the body a better chance at fighting it off. Doctor Sheridan has no quinine in his office at this time, but he was going to wire the state medical office in San Francisco in an effort to get some sent here on the next train. I assure you that just as soon as it’s available to him it will be available to us. We’ll buy whatever is needed for those of you who get sick. As well, we’ll pay the doctor to come out here and tend to those of you who fall ill. But as you know, with any epidemic a doctor’s resources quickly become strained. That’s why, as Nick already stated, we’re going to have to help each other through this.”
Jarrod went on to explain that the first signs of the disease would be symptoms similar to a cold. He told the men that anyone who was already feeling ill should report to the infirmary just as soon as it was ready.
“Doctor Sheridan will be back out to see Heath later tonight or tomorrow morning. At that time we’ll have him examine any of you who aren’t feeling well.”
Nick and Jarrod waited to see if there were further questions or comments. When none were forthcoming they nodded their thanks to the men and left the building.
As soon as the brothers were out of earshot conversation buzzed. The men who’d been ill with diphtheria in the past had little to worry about and worked hard at assuring the others they’d help them in whatever way they could.
“There’s no use in gettin’ all riled up like a pack a’ coon hounds on a hunt,” a grizzled old hand assured. “If you’re bound to git sick then you’re bound to git sick. That’s in the hands of the good Lord. Ain’t nothin’ a one of youz can do about it so there’s no point in whinin’ like a dang blamed bunch a’ females.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Hank,” Chuck scowled. “Your hand went up when Nick asked who’s had diphtheria. Stop and think for a minute about those of us who couldn’t raise our hands. If Heath’s as sick as,...”
Hank dismissed that thought with a wave of his hand. “Heath’s a tough young feller. He’ll be fine.”
The man to Chuck’s right shook his head. “I don’t know. Did you see the look on Nick’s face when he talked about Heath bein’ sick? I think Heath’s pretty bad off, as a matter of fact I think he’s real bad off, only Nick can’t bring himself to tell us that.”
“You young whippersnappers don’t know nuthin’,” Hank scoffed. “Okay, so Heath is sick. I mean that’s what diphtheria does, it makes a body sick. But grown men the age of Heath and the ages of most of you just don’t die from it. Such a thing is near unheard of.”
Phillip Mattson, the ranch foreman, stood and put an end to the talk before panic could set in.
“Listen, men, there’s no use debating who’s going to get sick or how sick they’re going to get. None of us really knows the answer to those questions, now do we? Therefore; it would be in everyone’s best interest if we finish our meal, then do like Nick asked and get number eight turned into an infirmary. If we’re lucky we won’t need it. But if we do,...well, I’ve worked for the Barkleys for a lotta years now. Longer than some of you have been on this earth. More fair, good hearted employers you’ll never find. Like Jarrod said, they’ll get each one of you whatever you need in the way of doctorin’ or medicine. So let’s do our part by sticking together and helping one another out. With Heath being sick the Barkleys don’t need to be fretting about us.”
A red headed man behind Phillip turned his head away and mumbled to those seated around him. Phillip pinned him with a steely gaze.
“What was that,
Carney?”
The ranch hand didn’t hesitate to offer his thoughts. “I said I bet
old Heath won’t be joinin’ the sick ones in number eight even though that’s his
rightful place. No, siree. I bet he gets tended to in style up there in the
big house by that pretty half sister of his.”
“You might as well put an end to that kind of talk right now, mister, ‘cause I guarantee you if Nick gets wind of it you’ll be lookin’ for a new job just as soon as the quarantine is lifted.” Phillip looked out over the remainder of the group. “That goes for the rest of you, too.”
No one said anything further on the subject as those men who still had an appetite returned to their attention to their lunch. Some were in strong agreement with Phillip, some felt like Darrel Carney but were wise enough to keep their mouths shut, while others were too new to the ranch to understand what the man meant about Heath and therefore held no opinion one way or the other.
As Phillip set his dishes on the counter and exited the hall a young man pushed his full plate aside. His older brothers sat on either side of him and exchanged concerned looks. The boy had just turned eighteen three weeks before and had only worked on the ranch for six months. He licked his dry lips while glancing from one brother to the next.
“I don’t remember
having diphtheria when I was a kid.”
Jim Garver smiled and elbowed his kid brother. “You still are
a kid.”
“Yeah, shrimp,”
Pete Garver smirked, “just ‘cause you turned eighteen a few weeks back doesn’t
mean you’re a man.”
Today was one day Bill Garver didn’t feel like arguing that point with
his older brothers. Jim and Pete had been employed by the Barkleys for five
years. It was through them that Bill had been hired on.
“I’ve been workin’
a lot with Heath lately,” Bill said. “And,...and a couple nights ago I started
gettin’ a sore throat. This morning,...well this morning I was sneezing a lot
and didn’t feel much like eating any breakfast. Can’t say I’m hungry for lunch,
either.”
Jim put his hand on his baby brother’s shoulder. “Billy, don’t worry.
It’s probably just a cold.”
“But Nick said,...”
“I know what Nick said. Still, I think you’re just borrowin’ trouble. But to be on the safe side I want you to check yourself into that infirmary just as soon as we get it ready. That way when Doc Sheridan comes out he can have a look at you.”
The boy gave a reluctant nod of his head. Pete pushed Billy’s plate back in front of him and ordered him to eat. Though food was the last thing the young man wanted at the moment, his brothers were watching him like mother hens with one chick.
Across the room another young man was having difficulty eating. Like Billy, Jeb Galloway hadn’t been feeling well for a several days now. After getting off to a rocky start three years before, Jeb and Heath had grown to be good friends. If Jeb wasn’t working along side Heath then the two of them were generally part of the group who went into Stockton together on Saturday nights, or who sat around the table in a bunkhouse playing poker. Jeb had learned a lot about ranching from Heath over the years and had come to admire him as a boss and as a friend. Jeb would readily acknowledge he even looked upon Heath as the big brother he’d never had.
The young cowboy touched a hand to his flaming throat before rubbing it over the aching muscles in his right arm. Jeb was worried about Heath, but then he was worried about himself as well.
_________________________________________
At the same time Jarrod and Nick were talking to the ranch hands, Heath coughed himself awake. For a few moments all he could register was the heat that made him feel like he was on fire from the inside, and the thick wall of mucus in his throat that caused him to wonder if each gasping breath would be his last. He was dimly aware of a towel being held to his mouth and small hands trying to urge him to his side. He did what the hands wanted, even allowing them to push his head toward the floor. The towel followed the hands and a voice that was both gentle and firm urged him to spit the phlegm into the white cotton cloth.
Heath continued to do as the woman ordered until he had nothing left to bring up. Or at least nothing that would come up since it still felt like a rope three inches wide had taken up residence in his throat.
It wasn’t until Heath was helped back to a sitting position that his eyes focused on his nurse. Victoria gave him a gentle smile while running a cold cloth over his face. He moved his face into cloth, welcoming the few seconds of relief it brought.
Victoria held a glass of water to his lips next. Heath didn’t even try to hold it himself, he simply leaned forward and took three healthy swallows before falling back against his pillows.
“Do you want more, Heath?”
The blond shook his head while giving a mumbled, “No. Not right now.”
“How about
something to eat? Silas has some chicken noodle soup warming on the stove for
you. And Jake said you should try to eat some bread, too.”
“Jake?” Heath’s voice came out in a rough croak two octaves deeper
than was normal for him.
“Doctor Sheridan.”
“When was he here?”
Victoria sat back down in her chair. She dipped the cloth in the
basin of water again, then returned to sponging Heath’s face and neck. “Early
this morning. Don’t you remember?”
Heath looked around his room in confusion. By glancing out the window he could tell it was noon. What in the world was he still doing in bed at this time of the day? And more importantly, why had Nick allowed such a thing?
“Sweetheart?”
Victoria’s voice caused Heath to refocus on her.
“Do you remember
Jake being here?”
“No. The last thing I remember...,” Heath turned away. He clutched
his chest and coughed until he the spasm passed. He was surprised to discover
that, just like earlier, it left him weak and barely able to lift his head from
the pillows. For the first time he took notice of how funny his voice
sounded. Hoarse and harsh like anyone’s voice sounds when they have a head
cold, but also like his throat had been coated with milk. “The last thing I
remember is comin’ in from the barn after me and Nick got home.”
“That would have
been late last night. Around eleven o’clock Nick said.”
“What happened then?”
“As near as we can guess your temperature shot way up and you became
delirious. You woke the entire house when you tumbled down the stairs. Your
brothers ran out of their rooms with guns drawn expecting to surprise an
intruder trying to break into the safe, only to find you unconscious in the
foyer.”
Heath was amazed he didn’t recall any of those events, nor what had occurred between that time and now, twelve full hours later.
“What’d Jake say?”
“Just that you need to rest for a few days. You shouldn’t have been
working so hard, Heath. You should have told Nick how sick you really were.”
“But it’s just a cold.”
Victoria started to dispute that, then with a quick change of heart decided not to.
Maybe his chances of pulling through this will be better if he doesn’t realize what’s wrong.
“You’re right,” Victoria
acknowledged as she fiddled with the edge of the blanket that covered her son.
“It’s just a cold. Well, a cold and a bad case of the flu, but Jake says plenty
of rest and good food will have you back on your feet in no time.”
“Never been in bed with a cold before.”
“Then you’ve missed out on the opportunity to be thoroughly pampered by me and your sister.”
Heath smiled at the teasing. “I seem to recall gettin’ that opportunity on a couple other occasions, but usually I had a bullet in me or had been kicked in the head by an ornery bronc.”
“All the more reason why this time we’re thankful it’s just a cold,” Victoria lied without so much as a blink. “Nonetheless, you’re run down and need to stay right in this bed until Jake says otherwise. Don’t you even think of sneaking outside the first time my back is turned.”
Heath coughed again, then allowed his eyes to fall shut. He felt like he had an elephant sitting on his chest.
“No, Ma’am. I won’t be sneakin’ off on you.”
Victoria was glad her son’s eyes were closed. If he’d seen her face he would have immediately guessed he had more than ‘just a cold.’ His comment about not sneaking outside on her was enough to indicate to Victoria how sick he really was. It had gotten to be a family joke that at some point during Heath’s recuperation from an injury he’d invariably be found in the barn before the doctor had given his okay. Victoria had come to expect such an occurrence, and Heath had made a game out of getting her goat over it. No matter how many times she caught him treading down the back stairs and marched him back to bed, he’d eventually foil her. He’d only laugh like a chastised school boy when she finally found him and threatened to tan his hide with her wooden spoon.
Heath must have
known what she was thinking. As she continued to wipe his burning face he gave
her a tired grin and said, “This is one time you won’t have to come searchin’
for me with your wooden spoon.”
“Is that a promise, cowboy?”
Worry creased the corners of Victoria’s eyes when Heath did no more
than give a tiny nod of his head.
“Honey, I’m going to get Audra to come in here and keep wiping you down with cool water. While she’s doing that I’ll get your lunch tray ready.”
“I’m not really
hungry.”
“I know. But you have to eat. Doctor’s orders.”
Heath made no reply. Victoria patted his shoulder, then went in search of Audra.
The blond man was barely aware of his sister taking his mother’s place. He recognized Audra’s voice and the smell of her perfume, but he was too tired to open his eyes. He thought it was strange that he should be so exhausted after having just awoken from twelve hours worth of sleep, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to question that occurrence.
Heath didn’t mean to give the women a hard time over the food. He wasn’t even aware he was fighting their attempts to spoon soup in his mouth and get him to take a few bites of fresh bread straight from the oven and lathered with butter, something he normally loved. The next thing he was really cognizant of was the side of the mattress dipping under a weight that was heavier than Victoria’s or Audra’s, then Nick’s voice deep and stern.
“Come on now, Heath. One way or another you’re gonna eat this.”
Heath tried to turn his head from the spoon aimed at his mouth but to no avail. Another pair of male hands firmly cupped both sides of his face. Jarrod’s voice joined Nick’s.
“Heath, I know you don’t feel like eating but you have to. Now do as Nick says and open your mouth.”
Heath wondered what everyone was making such a fuss over. After all, he just had a cold. If they’d simply leave and let him sleep he’d be fine in a day or two.
The feverish man bucked his body upward. Nick jumped up, barely keeping his hold on the soup bowl. What sloshed over fell onto the plate Silas had the foresight to set the bowl atop of, but not before droplets of the hot liquid splattered onto Nick’s hand.
“Dammit, Heath! You stop that right now and eat,....”
Victoria grabbed Heath’s shoulders while Audra dove for his ankles.
“Nick, he doesn’t know what he’s doing!” Victoria shouted over Heath’s incoherent cries. “There’s no use getting mad at him! Just start sponging him down while we hold him still.”
Nick set the soup on the top of Heath’s dresser and did as his mother ordered. It took a few minutes, but the cool water seemed to help. Heath relaxed enough for Victoria to let go of him and join Nick in his efforts. How long of a time passed before the spoon was put in front of his mouth again Heath didn’t know. He had no memory of fighting his family, and was confused as to why his brothers were in the room when the last thing he recalled was Victoria entering with the lunch tray. The blond man was too sick to ask any questions. He simply opened his mouth and took what Nick offered. He turned his head away after three swallows, but was coaxed by his brother into taking four more. He refused the bread completely until Victoria pleaded, “Please, son, for me. Just one bite.”
Heath drank half the glass of water Jarrod held to his lips. He hated the feeling of thickness in his throat and couldn’t understand why all the liquids he was getting didn’t make it go away.
The blond man slipped in and out of delirium as the afternoon passed. His temperature climbed to an alarming height. His face burned bright red as though he’d run a mile under the hot sun, and the women had a difficult time keeping up with changing the soaked linens that lay beneath him.
What was going on in Heath’s mind, or what he was seeing when he opened his fever-glazed eyes, his family didn’t know. If he spoke at all it was in Spanish so expert and rapid that Nick could only catch a couple of words from each sentence.
The dark headed man took a wet cloth from his mother and placed it on his brother’s forehead. “Heath, it’s okay now. You’re not in Mexico, you’re with your family on the ranch. Speak English, Heath. Speak English so we can understand you.”
Heath reached up and grabbed Nick by the shirt collar. He pulled his brother’s face to his. He still spoke in Spanish, but this time his words came out slow and distinct. Though Victoria, Audra, and Jarrod had no idea what he was saying, they could sense the air of sincerity behind Heath’s tone. Victoria was shocked to see Nick break into a grin, then begin to laugh.
As Heath collapsed back to his pillows Audra asked, “What did he say, Nick?”
“Well, he just called me Lupe`, told me I have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, listed one or two other,...attributes I won’t repeat in front of you ladies, and then he asked me to marry him.”
“To marry him!” Audra exclaimed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Who’s Lupe`?”
Jarrod shook his head with amusement. “I have no idea, little
sister. But it sure will provide us with plenty of entertainment when Heath is
feeling up to telling the story.”
Victoria smiled at her children’s fun. During the past three years
the Barkleys had come to learn that Heath’s reserved nature was as much a part
of him as the slight Southern drawl he got from his mother, and the blond hair
he inherited from his Grandfather Barkley. There were still a lot of things
about Heath’s past his family knew nothing of. Every time he revealed little
tidbits it was like getting to see the inside of a treasure box.
The afternoon gave way to evening. Victoria sent her children down to the dining room to eat in shifts. Victoria herself protested when Jarrod insisted she do the same, but finally gave into her eldest. She did no more than pick at her meal. By looking at the food left on the table the woman knew her sons and daughter had done the same. She looked up with a start when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.
Silas’s soft voice was as soothing as a warm cup of hot cocoa at the end of a long, cold hike.
“He’ll be all right, Mrs. Barkley. My Heath,...he’s a strong boy. Tough in a way most others have never had to be.”
Victoria smiled. She reached up and patted her house servant’s hand. “Your Heath,...that he is, isn’t he, Silas. Your breakfast companion, your friend,...”
“The child I watch over for Mr. Barkley.”
“Pardon?”
Silas pulled out a chair and sat next to the mistress of the house. He’d worked for her so long that neither one of them thought twice about his actions.
“I,...well, Ma’am, I expect you’ll think ole’ Silas has gone around the bend if I tell you this.”
“Tell me what?”
“Not that long after Mr. Heath came to us, I had a dream, Mrs. Barkley.”
“A dream?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Or at least I guess you’d call it that. Sometimes I
believe it was more like a vision just like the visions my mama used to get.”
“What was this dre,...vision?”
“I was in the kitchen makin’ breakfast just like I do every morning.
And he was there, Ma’am, sitting right in the chair Mr. Heath sits in when he
comes down early and eats with me.”
“Who was there?”
“Mr. Barkley. Do you remember how he used to rise before the sun on
many a morning and join me for breakfast long before the rest of you were up?”
“I certainly do. Tom enjoyed the times the two of you spent
together.”
“And I surely enjoyed those times, too, Ma’am. I got to know Mr. Barkley in a way I never would have had it not been for those mornings. I’ve always thought it was a special sign from the Lord that my Heath does the same thing. None of the other children do. Not even Mr. Nick who’s an early riser, too. They never have. Just Heath. Almost from the very first day he came here. So as I was sayin’, one night I thought I was dreaming. And in the dream Mr. Barkley was eating breakfast with me. I was tellin’ him all about Mr. Heath, what brought him to live with you all, and what a good man he is - how proud Mr. Barkley would be if he could meet him. And then he reached over and patted my arm,...why I even felt the warmth of his hand, I did. He smiled at me and said, ‘Silas, promise you’ll watch over my boy for me. Be a special friend to my Heath.’
“I smiled back at him and told him I’d do as he asked until my dying day. Then,...well then I’d say I woke up, only I don’t think I really did.”
“What do you
mean?”
“Ma’am, I wasn’t in bed at all, but in the kitchen. I was sitting at
the table eating breakfast, and there right next to me was a half empty plate
and a chair pushed out as though someone had just gotten up. At first I thought
I’d just been day dreaming and Mr. Heath had been with me. But then he came
whistling down the back stairs and that’s when I knew that somehow, Mr. Barkley
had really been there.”
Victoria didn’t dispute Silas’s story. Though she was certain he really had been dreaming, or perhaps sleepwalking would be a better term for it, she could tell the tale brought him comfort. In an odd sort of way it brought her comfort, too. Before she could say anything she heard Audra shout from above. She gave Silas a final smile while assuring, “Heath will pull through this, Silas, just you wait and see,” before running for the stairs.
Audra met her mother in the hallway. “Heath’s temperature just keeps getting higher. Nick wants us to fill the bathtub with cool water. He thinks that’s the only way to bring the fever down until Doctor Sheridan gets here with the quinine.”
“Good idea.”
The women dashed to the bathroom. When the deep tub was half full of
cool water Victoria shut the faucet off. Audra retrieved a clean towel and wash
cloth from the linen closet while her mother got a fresh pair of sleeping pants
from Heath’s dresser drawer. The women left the items in the bathroom, then
moved out of the way while Nick and Jarrod manhandled their brother to the tub.
It didn’t take long for the brothers to strip Heath of what little he was wearing. Getting him in the tub was another matter. Though he was only semi-conscious, he fought them with a vengeance. Nick winced in sympathy when Heath gave his right shin a solid whack on the lip of the tub. No doubt the blond would sport a heck of a bruise in a short period of time, but for now that was of little consequence. Jarrod and Nick finally had no choice but to grapple their sibling into a sitting position and plunk him into the tub. Heath continued to fight. He trashed in the tub like a fish in shallow water, clawing for the lip in an effort to climb out. Water flew in all directions until Nick and Jarrod were as wet as their brother. But as the cool water began to work its magic on the overheated body the fight slowly ebbed from Heath. He finally sagged against the back of the tub, his head cradled in Nick’s hand.
Though three quarters of Heath’s body was immersed in water, Jarrod and Nick used their hands to lap the cool liquid onto Heath’s upper chest and shoulders. Jarrod reached for the washcloth his sister had left on the counter. He soaked it with water then ran it over Heath’s face. When the water in the tub began to grow lukewarm Jarrod turned on the gold faucet marked cold. This action was repeated twice until the brothers began to notice a drop in Heath’s body temperature.
Heath’s first thought when he opened his eyes and stared up at the bathroom ceiling was to wonder why he was sitting in a cold tub of water. He had to admit it felt darn good, but he could never recall taking a cold bath before. Yes, he’d washed up with cold water plenty of times on a hot summer’s day, but to actually soak in a frigid tub? No, not that he could recall. The next thing Heath was aware of was two pairs of hands supporting him in a reclining position while lapping water on him. Heath shifted his eyes. He was embarrassed to discover his brothers bending over him, but immediately decided that was better than the other alternative - Victoria and Audra.
“Well, fellas, I don’t suppose the ladies would consider either one of you too ugly, but you’re not exactly my choice of bathin’ partners.”
Jarrod and Nick grinned. They’d welcome the good natured insult in exchange for the delirium that had plagued Heath all afternoon.
“You’re not exactly my choice either, Mo,” Nick shot back, using the nickname he’d somehow derived over the years from Heath’s middle name of Morgan, “but beggars can’t be choosers on a lonely Tuesday night.”
Heath chuckled before turning his face toward the wall. He allowed himself to sink further down into the water. Since he was now lucid neither Jarrod or Nick stopped this action, but let him submerge as much of his body as he could.
The blond cowboy didn’t realize his teeth had begun to chatter until Nick said, “Okay, let’s get you out of there.”
“No, Nick,” came the weak protest. “It feels good.”
“It might feel good, but you’re shivering. Come on now, don’t make me and Jarrod fight you outta there the same way we fought you in.”
Heath knew there was no use to argue further. He didn’t have the strength to take on either one of his brothers at this point, let alone both of them.
Under normal circumstances Heath would have been mortified to have his brothers dress him and then support him while he emptied his bladder. But these weren’t normal circumstances and he was grateful for their firm grips on his elbows. As they walked Heath back to his bedroom he fleetingly wondered again how a cold could make him feel like he had one foot in the grave, but before he could question this Victoria and Audra were fussing over him as though he was visiting royalty, and Jarrod was easing him down onto clean crisp sheets, and Nick was forcing him to eat some soup and drink some water, and then a severe coughing spasm had everyone pounding on his back and bending him this way and that, and then he collapsed against the pillows to the sound of Victoria issuing a rotating schedule that would have the blond’s family taking turns sitting up with him throughout the night. Again, Heath wanted to tell them it was just a cold and not to fret so, but long before he could get the words out of his mouth he was asleep.
Chapter 8
Jacob Sheridan surveyed the large room. The pulpit and pews within the Congregational Church had been replaced by neat rows of cots and pallets. The first thing Jake had done after returning from the Barkley ranch was to send a wire to the state medical office pleading for all the quinine they could give him. As soon as the town was awake and people stirring, the second thing Jake had done was gather together Stockton’s businessmen and church leaders. He apprised them of deadly illness that was about to descend on their town. He honored his promise to Victoria when he said no more than, “Heath Barkley is already very sick. I’ve seen several other people who are also coming down with the disease.”
Reverend Dyer immediately offered the Congregational Church for use as an infirmary. Jake soon had more volunteers than he could count. While men moved the pews and other artifacts to the church basement, or to storage sheds on their own property, women made up cots and pallets with blankets and sheets they brought from home. Mr. Krueger cleared his shelves in the general store of towels, wash clothes, pitchers and bowls, anything that might be used to hold water and in turn to wipe down bodies wracked with fever was greatly appreciated. By seven o’clock that Tuesday evening, less than twenty-four hours after Jake had seen Heath, he had quarantined fourteen people within the walls of the church.
The doctor smiled at a young mother who was bathing her feverish three year old daughter with cool water. He bent over the crying child who squirmed to get away from him.
“Now come on, Emma, is that any way to treat your old friend Doctor Jake?”
The little girl cried harder when Jake raked a ticklish finger over her abdomen.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Sheridan,” Nan Whitcomb apologized. “Emma doesn’t seem to make for a good patient.”
“No one makes for
a good patient when they feel like little Emma here does, Mrs. Whitcomb. Keep
bathing her like you’re doing, and try to get her to cough. Put the heel of
your hand to her back like I showed you and thrust upward.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jake rose and moved to kneel between the next two cots. Emma’s older siblings lay on them with their father in attendance. The only thing that indicated six year old Grace was still among the living was the ruby red circles on her cheeks. The child reclined on her cot so still and lifeless, as though her body didn’t have the desire to fight its invader. On the cot to Grace’s left was her eight year old brother Neil. The boy gave Jake a weak smile while the doctor listened to his heart and lungs, then placed a palm on his hot forehead.
“Hey there, Neil, how’s my best patient doing?”
“My throat hurts real bad, Doctor Jake. And my chest,...it hurts worse than that time Marvin Meyers sat on me in the school yard. And he’s big and fat even.”
Jake gave the boy’s cheek a gentle pat. “I know your chest hurts, son. That’s why it’s important that you cough as often and as much as you can. Your sisters,...well they’re just little girls yet and they’re going to need your ma and pa to help them out. But you’re practically a grown man, so you remember to cough like I showed you. Will you do that for me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good boy.”
Neil’s father followed Jake as the doctor moved away from his family. Halden Whitcomb looked back at his sick children, then steered Jake to a far corner of the building.
“What are my
children’s chances, Doc?”
“Hal, you know I can’t quote you odds. Like I told you and Nan this
morning, it’s imperative that we try to bring their fevers down while getting
them to eat and cough. If a supply of quinine arrives then the chances of
survival increase somewhat.”
“I know what diphtheria can do,” the man hissed, “so don’t treat me like some half-witted hillbilly. Twenty years ago I was the oldest of nine children. Because of an epidemic just like this one my folks only have two children left. I’m one of ‘em, my brother George the other. It only took one week, Doc. In one week’s time my mother and father buried seven kids. Seven. Me, I only got three little ones. And then you wonder why I want you to quote me odds.”
“I don’t wonder, Hal. Believe me, I understand. But you know I can’t predict who will live and who will die.”
“But it’s usually the young ones and the old ones who don’t have enough strength to weather the disease, right?”
“Often times, yes. Though this strain of the disease is a bit different and quite unpredictable. When I saw Heath Barkley last night he was much sicker than I would have expected given a man his age and size.”
“So he’s the
carrier? The Barkley bastard is the one who brought the disease here?”
William Dyer stepped up behind the two men before Jake could form a
reply.
“Mr. Whitcomb,
I’ll not have that kind of talk in this building. Regardless of what purpose a
church is used for, it’s still God’s house.”
“I’m sorry, Reverend, but if those are the facts then I have a right
to know. My children are sick. They may die! And if that no good, sorry
excuse for a man,...”
“Mr. Whitcomb, have you ever met Heath Barkley?” William asked.
“Pardon?”
“Have you ever met Heath Barkley?”
“I’ve seen him around town a few times, but if you’re asking if we’ve been formally introduced then no. No, I’ve never spoken to the man.”
“Then how can you stand in judgment of him?”
“Look, Reverend, you of all people should understand he’s the product of sin. Why the Bible tells us,...”
“The Bible tells us that we’re all sinners, Mr. Whitcomb. Every single one of us regardless of how, where, or why we were born. Now unlike you, I do know Heath Barkley. He’s a good man. A kind man. A hard working man. And just like your Neil, Grace, and Emma, Heath is someone’s child. No, Victoria Barkley didn’t give birth to him, but she loves Heath as if he was her own. And right at this moment I can guarantee you she’s doing the same things you are. She’s worrying, and she’s praying, and she’s losing sleep, and she’s tending to her sick child. Now you go back over there and tend to your own children. There’s no use in pointing fingers or playing guessing games. We all have to pull together to help one another in times of crisis. Regardless of how this disease came to Stockton, certainly no one, no one willfully brought it here.”
Halden Whitcomb looked from the minister to the doctor. His jaw tightened and he shook his head in disgust. As he turned away they heard him mutter, “Then you just don’t understand his kind. Who knows what things he carries around inside himself as God’s punishment for the wrongdoings of the woman who birthed him.”
Jake watched the rancher settle himself back in the chair that had been placed between the cots of his six and eight year olds. He turned to the minister with a cocked eyebrow.
William read all he needed to in that one gesture. “You didn’t know?”
“That Heath isn’t Mrs. Barkley’s son? No. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“My wife and I came to Stockton four years ago. Heath arrived about six months after we did. He showed up on the ranch one day in January claiming to be the illegitimate son of Tom Barkley. Whatever proof he brought with him of those words, or whatever the family uncovered after his arrival, I don’t know. All I do know is he’s long been accepted by the Barkleys as both brother and son. The gossip surrounding Heath has died down over the years, which probably attributes to why you haven’t heard the story before now. But despite that, people don’t forget. Nor do they forgive.”
“Forgive? What would anyone have to forgive Heath for?”
“That’s the sad
thing, Jake. Nothing. They have absolutely nothing to forgive Heath for. But
Tom Barkley was already dead when Heath came to Stockton so making him own up to
his mistake wasn’t possible. Unfortunately, there will always be people like
Hal Whitcomb who insist on making the son pay for his father’s
transgressions.”
Jake thought a long moment before making a reply. “Until my dying day
I’ll never understand the ignorance of a man like Whitcomb.”
“I won’t either. But whether you and I like it or not, there’s plenty
of it to go around in this world. And when something like this happens, when a
disease as deadly as diphtheria strikes an area, then fear tends to bring out
the worst in even some of the best people.”
Jake nodded his head, bowing to William’s experience in this matter. The Connecticut born doctor was twenty-eight years old. This was the first epidemic of any kind he’d been forced to face. If Halden Whitcomb’s attitude was an indication of what was to come Jake wondered how he’d handle the strife.
More importantly, he wondered how Heath Barkley would handle it should he still be alive by the end of the week.
Chapter 9
Heath was so certain he was on fire he tried to roll against the sheets to put the flames out. Heat more blistering than any he had ever felt baked his skin. And smoke,...the room had to be filled with smoke. That’s the only explanation he could think of for why he couldn’t breathe.
Victoria tried to calm Heath as he thrashed and flailed in vain attempts to get air to his lungs.
“Heath! Heath,...sweetheart, settle down. I know you’re hot, but you need to lie still. Heath, Mother’s here! Try to cough for me, Heath. Heath, try to cough!”
When the blond began to gasp for air Victoria knew she was fighting a losing battle. It was two o’clock in the morning, other than the glow from the lamp in Heath’s room the rest of the Barkley household was dark and quiet. Victoria had relieved Jarrod from Heath’s bedside at midnight. Heath was sleeping comfortably at that time, but had begun to grow restless as the early morning hours wore on.
The woman flew down the hall. Nick had left his door open and was sleeping fully clothed on top of his bed spread.
“Nick! Nick, I need your help! Heath can’t breathe!”
Nick was on his feet within seconds of hearing his mother’s cry. He dashed by her and tore into his brother’s room.
The rancher grabbed the thrashing Heath by the underarms. Nick lifted the blond man like he would a rag doll and positioned Heath’s abdomen across his bent knee. With Heath’s head dangling toward the floor Nick took his palm and thrust hard between his brother’s shoulder blades. Heath choked and gagged, but seemed unable to produce a healthy cough. Nick tried again and again, only to get the same results.
Nick was barely aware of Jarrod joining him. Like his brother, Jarrod hadn’t bothered to shed any clothes other than his socks when he’d gone to bed. Nick’s bangs flopped in and out of his eyes as he hammered on Heath’s back with his fist. Jarrod took the bulk of the blond’s weight and positioned Heath’s belly over his forearms.
“Hit him harder, Nick! Hit him harder!”
Heath’s arms swum upward like a drowning man searching for the surface of the water. Nick glanced over his shoulder at his mother and Audra. Like Jarrod, the young woman had been roused by the sound of her mother calling for Nick.
“Move my bed next to the fireplace!” Nick ordered the women. “Wake Silas and have him get a fire started, then fill the biggest kettle we’ve got with water and get it boiling. Shut the door and windows. When it’s thick with steam we’ll move Heath into my room.”
Victoria thought briefly of vetoing that. The steam-filled room would only make Heath hotter. But then she heard the blond man struggle to draw in another wheezing gasp and knew they had no choice. If Heath couldn’t breathe easier soon, the mucus plug formed by the disease would choke him to death. The woman grabbed her daughter by the hand. They rushed from the room to do what Nick ordered.
Victoria never knew how her sons managed to keep Heath alive that night until Nick’s room was ready. The awful wheezing could be heard all the way down the hall intermixed with the men’s shouts of encouragement to their brother, and the sound of Nick’s hand pounding against the bare skin of Heath’s back.
By the time Victoria returned to Heath’s bedside to tell her sons they could move their brother the sick man’s upper back was one massive bruise. Nick’s palm print clearly formed the outline of the black and blue mark.
Without asking for Jarrod’s help Nick moved Heath to a reclining position then scooped him up in his arms. He staggered for a moment under his brother’s weight, then got his balance and headed out the door.
“Nick, your back,” Victoria reminded the man of the sensitive back he possessed after years of bronc busting and sitting in a saddle. “Let Jarrod take some of his weight from you.”
“I’m fine! You two go on ahead so you can help me get him to the bed.”
Within seconds of entering his bedroom Nick’s hair was limp and hanging in his eyes. By the time he was easing Heath to his bed he could feel sweat trickling down his chest and pooling in his underarms. Nick used a hand to brush his hair back. A quick look at his family through the humid fog found them in the same condition.
The massive bed Nick slept in had been moved within five feet of the fireplace. The space allowed just enough walking room without tripping over the hearth. Using heavy oven mitts Victoria and Jarrod lifted the kettle of boiling water from the fire. The woman directed her son to help her set the steaming kettle in the middle of the hearth.
Nick turned from the bed where he and Audra were propping Heath against four pillows. “Why are you taking that off the fire?”
“Nick! Jarrod! Move your brother over here.”
“What?”
“Get him out of that bed and down onto his knees in front of this kettle! Audra, bring me the biggest towel we’ve got.” Victoria moved out of the way so her sons could do as she ordered. “Be careful of his arms. Nick, you’ll have to hold them against his sides so he doesn’t burn himself.”
Nick still wasn’t sure what his mother had in mind, but once he and Jarrod grappled Heath to his knees Nick had to straddle his brother’s back in order to keep Heath in place.
“Whatever you’re gonna do you’d better hurry! He might be sick, but he’s still damn strong. I can’t hold him like this for long.”
“Here, Mother,” Audra ran to Victoria’s side. “Here’s the towel.”
Victoria took the thick white cloth and with a flick of her wrist snapped it open. She laid the towel across the back of Heath’s bent head. Nick nodded when he saw what his mother was trying to accomplish. The towel formed a drape around Heath’s head and shoulders that forced the steam to billow directly into his face.
As more heat assaulted the already flaming Heath he fought with renewed fury. He couldn’t put faces to the voices shouting at him from all directions, and even if he could have their words made no sense. He screamed his rage in a voice louder than anyone had ever heard him use before. He rose up on his knees twisting and turning his upper body, doing whatever he had to in order to rid himself of the crushing weight that was hindering his freedom.
Nick Barkley had ridden some mean-spirited broncs in his day, but he couldn’t ever recall one that fought with the frenzy his brother possessed. If Jarrod hadn’t been there to help him Nick knew he would have lost his grip on Heath’s sweat-slicked body. Nick felt Jarrod’s weight come down on top of him and for just a second the old school yard game of monkey pile came to mind.
Shouts flew from all directions.
“Heath, stop it! Stop it now or I swear I’ll knock you out!”
“It’s all right, Heath! Heath, it’s Jarrod and Nick! It’s all right!”
“Heath,...Heath, please. Don’t fight the boys! They’re only trying to help you! Please, Heath!”
“Sweetheart, calm down! It’s okay! No one’s going to hurt you!”
The fever-crazed man paid no attention to his family’s pleas. He screamed a string of obscenities that even Nick had never heard him use before. Heath tried to whip his brothers off his back, his mind racing ahead to his next move.
The door! The door! Gotta find the door!
Hot. So hot in here. The door! Outside. Cold outside.
Go. Let me go! Don’t like to be held down! No! No one will ever do that to me again. Let me go!
Just as Heath was about to break his bonds and race for freedom, one voice raised loud in command penetrated his brain.
“Heath Morgan Thomson Barkley, I said calm down! Now I mean it!” Two small hands reached under the towel and grasped Heath’s face. “Calm down, Heath. Calm down!”
And with that the fight went out of Heath. He was so hot. And so weak. And so sick. And though he would never admit it to anyone, so scared. So very scared. But her voice, the voice of the woman he called mother, was like a beacon that guided him home.
Heath sagged forward. Only Victoria’s hands kept his face from falling into the hot water.
Jarrod waited a few tense seconds, then slowly eased himself off Nick’s back. Nick groaned when he, too, finally felt it was safe to climb off Heath. He knelt on his brother’s left side while Jarrod did the same on Heath’s right. The two men kept Heath positioned over the kettle so he’d get the full benefit of the steam.
Ten minutes later Victoria sent up a prayer of thanks when the wheezing gave way to coughing. She could hear the phlegm moving through Heath’s chest and throat. She took another towel Audra handed her and held it to his mouth. Like Victoria and her family had done in the past, she encouraged Heath to spit up what he could.
When Heath wasn’t able to cough any more Victoria removed the towel from his head. His face was red and sweat ran down his cheeks like tears. He didn’t open his eyes, but by feel alone slumped into his stepmother. Victoria held him against her collarbone and kissed his burning forehead. She was well aware they had little time to waste at bringing his fever down, but also knew that, for however brief, both she and Heath needed this hug more than they needed anything else.
Nick and Jarrod moved the bed away from the fireplace. Nick directed Audra to open the bedroom door halfway and to crack a window. He and Jarrod then hung the kettle back over the fire so steam could still fill the room to some degree.
Heath was barely cognizant of being lifted from Victoria’s arms by his brothers and carried to the bed. His family began bathing him with cool water. The high temperature was taking its toll on the man with each passing second and he no longer recognized the relief the water brought. His tried to push the hands away from his body. In complete contrast to minutes earlier, Heath was now so weak Audra was able to grasp his wrists and hold his arms against the mattress.
Dawn was casting light in the eastern sky before Heath quieted. The night had seemed to be three days long as far as Victoria was concerned. She looked at her bedraggled family. Audra was still in her night gown and robe. Her hair was limp like over cooked noodles and eye makeup she hadn’t washed off before going to bed streaked her cheeks black like the markings on an Indian warrior. Sweat stained the back of Jarrod’s shirt and formed big wet rings around Nick’s underarms. Victoria knew she wasn’t in any better shape. Her hair hung loose around her face, her shirt and underclothes clung to her body in a way that made her long for a bath. The room was hot and stuffy, but the trade-off to the discomfort was that Heath was able to draw in life giving air.
Nick stood and ushered everyone to the door. “The three of you eat some breakfast and try to get some sleep.”
“What about you?” Jarrod asked.
“Silas can bring me a tray.”
“You need to sleep, too, Nick,” Victoria said.
“I’m not that tired. Unlike you and Jarrod I managed to get a few winks in before Heath got bad.”
Victoria raised a skeptical eyebrow. Nick’s bloodshot eyes and pinched features told her what little sleep he’d gotten was restless and wrought with worry.
Audra gave one last look at the man on the bed before Nick pushed her out of the room.
“Go on, little sister. Get dressed, fancy up your hair like you do, put some of that goop on your face,...”
“Goop? Nicholas Barkley, I’ll have you know make-up is not goop.”
“Whatever. All I know is Heath is gonna be mighty disappointed if you give him reason not to brag that you’re the prettiest sister a man could have.”
Nick’s words brought tears to Audra’s eyes. “I’d never disappoint him, Nick.”
Nick encircled his sister with one arm and kissed her temple. “I know you wouldn’t, honey.”
Audra leaned into the cowboy’s chest. For just a moment she was a little girl of four again and in awe of the thirteen year old brother she called Nicky who chased monsters from her room every night and carried her down the stairs on his shoulders each morning.
Nick’s eyes followed his sister’s to the bed. In a voice barely above a whisper he assured, “He’s tough, Audra. He’s so damn tough. Nothing can keep him down. We’ll get him through this. I promise we’ll get him through this.”
Victoria squeezed Audra’s hand as the girl passed through the doorway. Jarrod put an arm around his mother’s shoulders and walked Victoria to her room. He was just about to pull the door closed for his mother when he saw her cross to the big windows that overlooked her flower garden. She stood there so tiny and alone. He watched as she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
The lawyer stepped up behind his mother. She gave a soft smile when she felt his touch on her shoulders. She reached up and grasped one of his hands with hers.
It was as Victoria stood there taking in the first rays of sun kissing the blooming roses that she started to cry. Jarrod turned her around and pressed her head to his chest.
“Hey, there. Hey, now. None of that. You heard Nick. Heath’s going to pull through this.”
“But it’s all my fault.”
“Your fault? What makes you say that?”
“Oh, Jarrod, I knew there was a diphtheria epidemic in Laton. Opal Manners told me weeks ago one Sunday after church. I should have known when Heath first started complaining about having allergies that he was getting sick. I should have known.”
Jarrod cupped his hand under his mother’s chin and forced her to look up at him. “Now how could you have known?”
“I should have asked him. Don’t you see, I should have asked him if he’d ever had diphtheria. But I didn’t. I remember how thankful I was the day Opal told me about it. I remember thinking how grateful I was that my family was safe because my children had the disease long ago. But I,....I guess I just lumped Heath together with the rest of you in my mind. Why did I do that, Jarrod? How could I have been so careless? If I had been thinking clearly I would have known I needed to ask Heath if he’d ever had it. If I’d done that he wouldn’t be as sick as he is now.”
“Mother, first of all knowing or not knowing wouldn’t have given you a guarantee in terms of how sick Heath would become. Even Jake can’t predict something like that ahead of time.”
“But if I would
have known he never had diphtheria then I would have also known that he had a
lot more than a cold when he first started getting sick. Oh, Jarrod, why didn’t
he tell one of us how bad he was feeling? Why did he continue to work long
hours day after day when he should have been in bed?”
“That just how Heath is. You know that. Like Nick said, he’s tough.
Maybe too tough for his own good sometimes. But Heath doesn’t complain to
anyone in this family about anything concerning himself. He never has and I
doubt he ever will.”
“And that’s all the more reason why it’s my job to watch out for him.”
“I realized a long time ago you made that your self-appointed duty,” Jarrod smiled, “but I didn’t think I’d ever hear you admit it.”
“I didn’t,....” Victoria moved away from her son and walked back to the window. “I know it sounds strange, but a woman never quite gets over the need to mother her children. After Eugene went off to college,...well, none of you needed me any longer in quite the way you had before. No one turned to me anymore for guidance or just a shoulder to lean on when life got too rough.”
“And then Heath came.”
“Yes,” Victoria
nodded. “Then Heath came. If ever there was a young man who needed the gentle
influence of a mother it was him. During his early days with us I can’t say I
imagined our relationship would grow to what it is today. As a matter of fact I
often wondered where I stood in his eyes. But it didn’t take long for me to
know.”
Victoria felt Jarrod’s hands on her shoulders again. “He loves you
very much, Mother. No matter what happens, don’t forget that.”
“But I let him down. I let him down by not doing what a mother’s supposed to do. By not taking care of him like I should have.”
“If you told Heath that he’d disagree with you.” When Victoria made no reply Jarrod continued. “Mother, you just gave Heath the highest compliment you could.”
“What?”
“You said you lumped Heath together with the rest of us in your mind. With the rest of your children. You’ve thought of him as your son for a good many years now. Don’t blame yourself for an oversight that came from the heart.”
Victoria’s tears flowed anew at Jarrod’s words. She patted his hand a final time, signaling to her oldest child she wanted to be alone.
Jarrod kissed the top of Victoria’s head before turning to leave the room. She heard him echo Nick’s words, “He’s tough, Mother. He’s so damn tough,” right before the door closed.