Brides of Ohio Page 10

  In fact, she was still toying with the idea of leaving altogether. It would be easier for them to move on as the reverend had asked them, wouldn’t it?

  Lord, I felt Your hand in my decision to come here, but now, more than ever, I can’t understand why. It makes much more sense to leave these people in peace.

  Dipping her hand into a bowl of water, she sprinkled one of Daniel’s shirts—the white one he wore with his uniform. Her heart pounded and her hands shook as that dashing image of him rose in her mind.

  She clenched her teeth in frustration. Please, Father, I need to leave before I lose my heart even more to this man, she begged. She sighed at the answer in her heart. There was nothing else to do but trust Him. Even if it meant having her heart broken.

  As she rolled up the shirt, she began to form a new yet truthful excuse that would allow her to go to bed early that night. Happily, Simon Peter and his sons would be here. If Daniel got to talking to them first, he wouldn’t notice if she slipped out early.

  Mary laid her iron back on the hot cookstove and carefully folded the dress she’d been working on. “We’d best clear up in here and get lunch started,” she said with a sigh. “Simon Peter and the boys will be in soon.”

  Katherine began to gather up the rest of the clothes when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked through the window to see Scioto tearing down the road with the wagon, Daniel leaning forward in the seat urging him on. As they swept by, her heart nearly stopped at what she thought were two bodies lying in the bed of the wagon, but it went by too fast for her to be sure.

  By the time she and Mary made it to the front door, Daniel was out of the wagon, yelling for them and Simon Peter.

  Katherine raced to the wagon as Daniel lowered the bed door. “Oh no!” she gasped. Adele and Jacob lay in the bed on quilts, pale and still.

  Daniel climbed in and laid a hand on the young boy’s forehead before swinging him up into his arms. He looked around wildly. “Where’s Simon Peter?”

  Before she could answer, he was there. One look and he took the boy from Daniel. Jacob looked like a rag doll in the large man’s arms. Aaron and Michael ran up, and Aaron, who was built more like his father, took Adele. Katherine heard Mary tell them where to take them, but her eyes were fastened on Daniel, who watched them being taken inside.

  “This is my fault,” he said raggedly.

  “How could it …?”

  “If Nate had been here, none of this would have happened.”

  “Daniel, you don’t know that.”

  “Go see what you can do. God have mercy on me if something should happen to them.” He sank down against the wagon’s side wall and put his head in his hands.

  Katherine picked up her skirts and raced into the house and up the stairs.

  The door to Jonah’s room was shut, and Simon Peter and his sons filled the small hallway. She could see by the looks on their faces that they wanted to be doing something other than just standing around.

  “Can you go see to Daniel?” she asked softly. “I’m afraid he’s in quite a state.”

  Simon Peter nodded, and he and the boys immediately walked downstairs.

  Opening the door to Jonah’s room, she walked in to find Toby’s old trundle bed had been pulled out. Mary knelt next to it tending to Jacob while Adele lay quiet and still on Jonah’s bed. Katherine gasped at the sight of the boy’s hand, the same one she had bandaged up only a few days ago. It was quite swollen and a violent shade of red. Worse still, the swelling was beginning to spread to his wrist.

  Mary looked up. “Katherine, before you even think it, it’s not your fault,” she stated firmly. “He’s been helping with the planting for the past couple of days. Boys being boys, it’s had plenty of chances to get infected.”

  Katherine looked over at Adele and started. “Mary, she looks half-starved!”

  “I know,” the older woman replied grimly. “I loosened her stays, but there’s barely anything there to cinch in.”

  Katherine sank down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Adele’s forehead. “She hasn’t any fever.”

  “No, but Jacob’s burning up.” The older woman rose. “Stay with them.” She left, and Katherine knew she was headed for the section of the pantry that held Dorothy Kirby’s collection of dried flowers and herbs.

  When Mary sprained her ankle, she had instructed Katherine on how to use them to treat her injury. “My mother,” she’d said, “learned a thing or two from the Indians before they were forced to move west. She passed on what she knew to Dolly and me.”

  But as Katherine now looked helplessly at Jacob’s swollen hand and flushed face, she wondered how a few shriveled leaves could possibly help now. A prayer formed in her mind and she closed her eyes. They opened the very next instant, however, as she heard Adele mutter and stir.

  “Mein lieber, Junge! Jacob!” Her eyes opened and she looked around blearily. “Where is he?”

  “Shh, Mrs. Stephens,” Katherine said softly. She hoped the woman was too delirious to know who she was. “He’s here. Mary’s going to take right good care of him.”

  To her relief, Adele seemed to calm down and slipped back into unconsciousness.

  Katherine resumed her prayer and did not cease until Mary returned with a steaming mug.

  “I have Daniel digging up one of Dolly’s coneflowers,” she said. “The roots she had were too old to use. Come here and help me sit him up.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This is tea brewed from dogwood bark. The Delaware Indians use this to control fever.”

  They sat Jacob up and managed to get a few sips down his throat.

  “There,” Mary said once they had settled the shivering boy back beneath the quilt. “I’ll use the coneflower root to make a poultice. It’ll help draw out the infection.” She placed her hand on Katherine’s and smiled. “And you’ve already been about the most important step, prayer.”

  “What about Adele?”

  Mary pursed her lips slightly. “Prayer as well, along with a little food and a generous dose of common sense.”

  The sound of boot steps downstairs in the hall told them Daniel had finished his task. They went down and found him sitting in the parlor.

  Mary nudged Katherine in his direction while she went to the kitchen.

  He stood up as she stepped in the room. “Aunt Mary said it isn’t as bad as it looks.”

  “She told me the root you dug up will help.”

  He nodded. “Ma used coneflower a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair. The guilty look from earlier began to creep back into his face.

  “This isn’t your fault, Daniel,” Katherine said firmly.

  “Nate should be here,” he snapped. “And so should Jonah. And Toby. And Ma.” Katherine watched as he began to pace the room. “Why should I keep going on like this? I have what I’ve always wanted waiting for me at Ohio Wesleyan. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t sell out and be done with it?”

  “‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart,”’ she quoted tremulously, “and lean not unto thine own understanding.”’

  Daniel stopped his pacing and stared at her before walking over and pulling her into his arms. He buried his head in her small shoulder, and she found herself standing on tiptoe to return the embrace. Her fingers brushed his silky hair, and she marveled at how right it felt to be in his arms.

  Don’t fool yourself. He’s hurting right now. Nothing more.

  After a moment or two, he lifted his head but didn’t release her. Instead, he looked deeply into her eyes. “Did you finish that book of Wordsworth’s poems?”

  She nodded, too worked up over the way he was looking at her to speak.

  “Discuss it with me tonight. Don’t run off so soon after dinner.” He must have read the hesitancy in her face, for he pressed her further. “Please. If I can’t teach, at least there’s that.”

  She nodded and stepped away from him. “I better see if Mary needs me.�
�

  She turned and headed toward the kitchen, a hand over her wildly pounding heart. A part of her was beginning to believe what she had thought to be quite impossible.

  Chapter 13

  Mary and Katherine took turns seeing to Adele and her son. By the next morning, Adele was awake and lucid, and Katherine told Mary it might be best if she helped her with the simple broth they had been feeding her. The poor woman has enough to deal with. She doesn’t need the likes of me around, she thought as she settled down with the mending in the dining room.

  She was surprised when Mary came back down the stairs a moment or two after going up to see to the young widow.

  “What is it? Is it Jacob?” she asked.

  Mary shook her head. “No, but I need to make up a new poultice for him.” She laid a gentle hand on Katherine’s cheek. “Adele wants to see you.”

  Katherine’s eyes widened, and she looked at the stairs and then back to her friend.

  Mary patted her shoulder. “Go on up. She’s waiting.”

  Leaden weights seemed to replace Katherine’s feet as she walked up the stairs. She reached the door of Jonah’s room and peered in.

  Adele was propped up in bed, her thin hands holding the mug of broth Mary had brought her. It sat in her lap half lost in the folds of the light quilt covering her. She was staring down at her son, who lay in the little trundle bed next to her. They had managed to bring his fever down a little, but his hand was still red and swollen.

  Tears pricked at Katherine’s eyes as she saw the worried look on Adele’s face. She slowly walked into the room, and the young widow immediately turned her head toward her. Katherine attempted a weak smile as she sank down in the chair next to her bed. “Good morning, Mrs. Stephens,” she said and inwardly winced at the sound of her own voice and how much it must distress the poor woman.

  “My son, how is he?” she asked, her weak voice revealing her German heritage.

  “His fever is down a little. Mary is making up a new poultice.” She wondered why Adele had called her up merely to ask what Mary could very well have answered.

  “I tried all I knew. But he became so sick.” She lifted the mug she held to her lips, but her hands shook, and Katherine immediately steadied it as she took a sip. She let Katherine take it from her and leaned back against the pillows. “How did we get here?”

  “Daniel came looking for you when Jacob didn’t show up.” Daniel had told them the evening before how he had pounded on the door to their small shack at the edge of town. When there was no answer, he peered in a window and broke in when he had seen Adele lying in a heap on the floor. “He brought you both here.”

  “The infection set in so quickly,” she said tearfully.

  “Why didn’t you send for the doctor?”

  “I could not afford it.” Adele looked brokenly at her son. “Mein lieber, Junge. God is punishing me.”

  Katherine stared wonderingly at her. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mrs. Stephens.”

  Adele reached out a weak hand and laid it on Katherine’s. “Weil ich tadelte—” She stopped herself. “Because I blamed you for Nathaniel’s death,” she continued softly, her accent becoming thicker as her emotion rose. “Mrs. Kirby was helping me after I lose the farm. But when you come I cannot bring myself to talk to Mary.” Katherine’s free hand strayed to her jaw as the poor woman continued. “We were running out of food. It is why I let Jacob come here. So he could eat. You were so kind to him, he says. He says I should not be angry.” She dissolved into tears.

  Katherine shakily offered her a handkerchief before calling for Mary. The older woman arrived, and Katherine left the room, unable to hold back tears of her own.

  By that evening, Adele was well enough to be helped downstairs into the parlor. Since her confession to Katherine earlier, she kept to herself, communicating with them through nods and short one- or two-word sentences. Jacob, while he showed some improvement, was still very sick.

  Mary insisted Adele leave his side for at least an hour or so. She promised to stay with him while Katherine made dinner.

  When Daniel stepped into the house, he found Adele seated on the sofa, one of his mother’s quilts lying over her lap. He immediately started to leave the room.

  “Daniel,” she called.

  He slowly stepped back in. Still weak and thin, Adele looked nothing like the woman Nate had left behind. Her blue eyes were dull and her corn silk–colored hair was thin and dry. He still couldn’t believe how wasted she’d become. But she looked at him kindly and asked him to sit down next to her.

  “Adele …,” he began and then stopped. The words he’d rehearsed over and over in his head refused to come to him. He could only look at her helplessly.

  “It is good to see you again.” She looked at him for a moment or two and sighed. “I am sorry. I should have written to you.”

  “No,” he said slowly. “I never should have told you what happened the way I did.”

  “No, it needed to be told.” She patted his hand. “I will be able to tell Jacob how brave his father was when he is older.” Her face became even more drawn. “If my pride has not killed him.”

  “Adele, what happened?” he asked eagerly. “How did you get so sick? Why did Elijah Carr make you leave your farm?”

  “I could not take care of the land. When Nathaniel died, I had to let go of the help and I could not keep up. So I gave it back to Mr. Carr.”

  “He said something about a debt. I thought Nate had the land paid off.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I borrowed money from him. So we could eat. He forgave the debt when I gave him back the land.”

  Daniel frowned. “Ma should have told me.”

  “I would not let her.”

  “What about your brother? Why didn’t you write him?”

  Adele looked at him sadly. “I tried to write him, but he never wrote back.”

  Daniel ran his hands through his hair. Erich had gone west not long after Adele had gotten married. He’d always written religiously. Therefore, the only explanation was that he had perished somewhere in the Western plains like so many others. “Ma should have told me. I could have sent or done something.”

  “Your mother did it for you,” she reassured him. “She got Mr. Henderson to let us live in his old building in Ostrander. And she would bring us baskets of food.” Her own brow furrowed. “But then she got sick. I did not even know until Mr. Carr brought the last basket. He said I should stay away so we would not get sick, too.” She closed her eyes and raised a hand to her face. “I came here for your mother’s funeral, to speak to Mrs. O’Neal. But Miss Wallace spoke to me first, and I left. I could not come back.” Adele bowed her head, shamefaced. “I did not want to see her again.”

  Daniel started. His mother had died almost two months ago. “Adele, how long have you been without food?”

  “I stretched out what I had left from the last basket,” she whispered, still looking down at her lap. “I let Jacob have most of it. But it ran out. I was too proud to say anything to those at church. So I had to come let him work for you even though I did not want him with Miss Wallace. He needed to eat.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “She was so kind to my son. She bandaged his hand and gave him candy. I had treated her so poorly. Jacob said I needed to forgive. I was going to come to church last Sunday to apologize. But he got sick, and I don’t remember what happened after that.”

  Daniel scooped her up in his arms and let her weep into his shoulder as he closed his eyes and silently worded a prayer.

  Two nights later, Daniel sat in the parlor as Katherine worked on some mending. He watched her delicate hands work needle and thread to repair the breast pocket of one of his work shirts. When she finished, she smoothed her hand over the pocket before setting it aside. He’d never wanted to be a piece of fabric so much in his life.

  Daniel shifted in his seat and tried to focus his gaze on something else, the wall, the clock, anything other than the lovely creature who s
at so near him but still seemed beyond his reach. He’d wanted to talk to her since that day at the fence. He had been certain she felt something for him, too. Had he imagined what he had seen in her eyes?

  They’d had such an enjoyable discussion two nights before, and she seemed happy as they had laughed and talked. But now she was suddenly distant again. If it wasn’t for Simon Peter sitting at the secretary reading the Delaware Gazette and Aaron and Michael playing checkers on the floor, he’d kneel down in front of her and beg her to talk to him.

  He glanced at the mantel clock. Mary was upstairs with Adele and Jacob, and if Simon Peter and his sons went out to the barn when they usually did, he might be able to speak with her before she went upstairs. Leaning back on the sofa, he opened up the book he and Katherine had been discussing. He read the first line of “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey …” at least a dozen times before Michael finally yawned.

  “It’s early yet, but I’m done in.” The youth looked at his younger brother. “You comin’?”

  “Sure am. I’m tired of gettin’ beat by you.”

  They put the checkers away, and Aaron looked over at their pa. “Come on, Pa. Let’s get some sleep.”

  “I’ll be along in a spell,” Simon Peter said from behind the newspaper. “I just want to finish up this article they have in here ‘bout them catchin’ that no-good Booth.”

  “It’s almost a mercy they brought him in dead,” Daniel said as the boys headed out the door. “It spares Mrs. Lincoln the pain of a trial.”

  Simon Peter nodded gravely. “They talk about the president’s funeral in here, too. You oughta be goin’ since you served in the war and all.”

  “I’d like to, but I don’t want to leave you shorthanded.”

  “We’ve been doin’ just fine. Almost got you caught up to where you should be this time o’ year.”