THREE

Caroline sat in the chair by the fire, staring at the door Charles had walked out, waiting for him to return. He'd been gone several hours. She'd watched him up until the time he began to climb into the wagon and then had to sit down as she'd grown suddenly dizzy and her legs had given out. Even now she could feel the earth's gravity pulling at her, fighting to draw her to the floor. She wanted to give in – to surrender and fall into blessed darkness – but she couldn't.

Her children needed her.

Mary was calling for water, and Laura... Tears flooded her eyes. Her precious girl was crying out for her pa.

Closing her eyes, Caroline drew a deep breath. She gripped the arms of the chair with trembling fingers and pushed off, rising to her feet. Each step to the water bucket was leaden. She dragged her feet, and they made a terrible shuffling sound. It took a good two minutes for her to reach the bucket and when she did, it was only to find that nearly all of the water was gone. As she stood there, staring at it in disbelief, the front door creaked on its hinges. She pivoted, hoping it was Charles. Instead their dog, Jack, came in. Jack paused on the threshold and turned back to look outside, as if unsure which place he belonged, before advancing into the house. When he reached her he circled her feet and then sat down and whined, almost as if he understood what was going on.

She gave him a weak smile. "You're our...protector..." Her voice sounded weak in her ears. Caroline cleared her throat and tried again. "You're our protector, Jack, but you can't protect us from this." She glanced at the door. The dog's entry had left it partially open. "Go protect Charles, Jack. Go boy! Go. Find him now!"

Jack stared at her as if weighing who had the most need – her or Charles – and then he obeyed. Bounding across the floor he was out the door in a flash.

She watched him go and then turned back to the bucket

If only he could have fetched water!

Filling two cups from the bucket with what was left, Caroline carried them shakily across the common room to where the girls lay. She stumbled and lost a little of the water as she went, but arrived with enough to give each of them a drink. Mary was quiet – too quiet. She barely responded when she called her name, and the only way she got any water in her eldest child was by forcing it between her lips and letting it trickle down her throat. All the while Laura thrashed and turned from side to side, talking to someone who wasn't there.

Turning to her middle girl, she lifted the child's head and placed a cup to her lips. "Here's some nice cool water for you, Laura. Drink it, dear heart. Drink it for mama."

At the sound of her voice, her beautiful child quieted. A moment later Laura's eyelids fluttered open. "Ma...?"

"Yes, Laura?"

Her child's eyes were wide and wild. They moved from side to side as if seeing something she could not. Laura's hand shot out, knocking the cup aside. She caught her child's wrist and held it, noting her skin was incredibly hot.

"Where's...pa? Ma..." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Pa... Is he...sick too?"

She hesitated. Would it do any good to confirm the child's fears when she was so weak?

"Your pa's on his feet," she said, knowing it was not quite a lie. Caroline's gaze returned to the partially open door. "He's taking the wagon and going for help."

"Is...he...gonna get...Doc Baker?"

"I'm sure he will if he can," she assured her as she pulled the cover up about her chin. Leaning down, she planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Don't you worry. Your pa can take care of himself. You just get some sleep."

Laura barely nodded before she was asleep.

As she straightened up, a shiver ran the length of her. Caroline frowned. She'd laid Carrie by the hearth on her shawl. She'd have to get another one from their bedroom.

At the moment their bedroom seemed awfully far away.

Rising, she started that direction, only to pause as a curious sound caught her attention. Caroline listened. Her heart skipped a beat.

Jack was howling.

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After regaining consciousness Charles dragged himself up and onto his feet. He stood now, hanging onto the side of the wagon, battling his body and praying to God. Somehow...somehow he had to find the strength to go for help. It broke his heart to think that Caroline was coming down with whatever had laid the Mary and Laura low. It wouldn't be long before she couldn't take care of herself, let alone look after the girls. As a small blessing, it seemed so far Carrie had not come down with whatever plagued them, though he expected that would change real soon. Doc Baker had told him once that this kind of sickness was called an infectivity. It was something that came to live in a person, something uncaring that took what it needed to survive. The Doc said no one knew much about how or why it happened. Only that it laid in wait and then pounced like a rush of storm-swollen water taking whoever was in its path down.

Charles glanced at the wagon seat again. The ramrod straight boards seemed to wobble and shift as dizziness laid claim to him. He lowered his head and rested it on his arm. Since speaking to God in his head didn't seem to be doing any good, he spoke aloud.

"Lord, you gotta get me into that seat. I've got to help my family." Tears spilled down his cheeks, wetting the green and blue plaid shirt he wore. "I know, Lord, that suffering is a part of living, but these are my babies.. To have to see them suffer so and not be able to do anything..." He paused and drew a steadying breath. "If you have to take someone, then take me. I told you that with Freddie, but you didn't listen. God...I can't bear to lose another one. Please, listen this time...

"Lord..."

Something tugged at his ankle. Charles lifted his head from his sleeve and looked down. It was Jack. He was trying to drag him back inside.

Feebly he batted at him.

"Go back, boy. Go back into the house." When the dog ignored him and continued to pull at his trouser leg, he grew angry. "Go inside, Jack! Caroline may have need of you."

Jack was going nowhere. The dog lowered his front quarters to the ground, flattened his ears, and growled low in his throat like he did when he sensed danger. Jack barked sharply several times and then began to pace back and forth between the house and the wagon. Charles frowned. He knew animals could sense things people missed. He looked at the house and wondered if there was something going on in there that he needed to know about.

The front door seemed a million miles away.

"You want me to go in, boy?" he asked, his voice sounding weak in his own ears. "Does Caroline need me?"

Jack barked again, and again he danced toward the house.

Charles thought a moment and then pushed off the wagon. As he stood there, shivering and sweating and wobbling on his feet, with his back aching and his head pounding, he spoke to God again, this time reminding Him of His promise..

"I'm holdin' you to Your word, Lord," he breathed. "You promised to give strength to the weary and to increase the power of the weak." Charles wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve and then ran it under his nose. "You gotta get me into that house."

Jack went before him whimpering and barking short harsh barks. Charles followed, barely keeping his feet. It was like the dog was talking to him, urging him to press on and to fight when there was just no fight left in him. As they approached the door, the dog bolted into the house and disappeared. Charles paused with a hand to the porch post. He glanced at the sky, noting the moon was full and high, and then he staggered onto the stoop and fell forward to grasp the latch. Night had fallen. He needed to get a fire going. Light some lanterns.

Maybe if someone saw a light in the middle of the night they'd stop.

"God," he pleaded, "send someone by."

The first thing that struck him when he opened the door was the silence. There was nothing but Jack's whimpers and the sound of heavy breathing. The light streaming in the open door showed him Carrie was no longer in front of the hearth. Instead Caroline was holding her and sitting on the edge of the bed in which Mary and Laura lay.

When she heard him enter his wife slowly raised her head and looked his way. Charles sucked in air at the sight. It was like that time she'd cut herself on the wire and nearly died. Caroline's face was the color of ashes and her eyes were ringed with shadows. He started toward her and faltered, almost losing his balance, and then continued on until he reached her.

She sat on the bed, rocking gently back and forth, humming a tune low in her throat. Her voice was raspy and every so often she coughed.

Charles placed his hand on her shoulder and said gently, "Caroline, you need to lay down."

She kept on rocking.

"Caroline," he said more firmly. "You need to rest. I'm going to take Carrie."

As he moved to do so his wife looked at him, her eyes wild. She pulled Carrie closer. "No!"

For a moment he feared the worst, but then he saw Carrie shift and her little hand went to her mother's cheek.

Charles dropped to the edge of the bed beside his wife and met her wild stare. "Darlin', you're sick. You don't want to make Carrie sick too, do you?"

She'd been looking down at the child. At his words, Caroline looked up. She blinked several times and seemed to come to herself. Her eyes went to Mary and Laura.

"Charles, they're so sick..."

He touched her face with his hand. It felt normal, but then that was probably because he was burning up too. "I know. You get to bed. I'll take over."

"Did you get to town?" she asked, clearly confused.

As he rose slowly to his feet, he said, "No. I sorta took a nap and then Jack came and got me." Charles forced a smile. "He knew you needed me. Now, come on, give Carrie to me and you get to bed."

Reluctantly she surrendered their youngest to his arms. Caroline rose to her feet and a second later nearly went back down. Steadying herself with a hand on the bedpost, she turned fevered eyes on him.

In that look was every bit of trust and confidence, and all of the responsibility of being the man of the house. It said she knew he would take care of them.

He accepted every bit of it.

"I'm gonna put Carrie in our bed. You need to come too."

Caroline touched his face as she nodded her agreement. On the way to their room, she pointed to the bucket in the kitchen. "We need water, Charles. We're almost out."

"I'll get it," he assured her as he threw the coverlet back and deposited Carrie in the middle of their bed. He took his wife by the shoulders then and gently forced her to sit. "You lie down and lay against her. You two need to keep each other warm."

He didn't know if he was placing Carrie in more danger, but there really wasn't anything else he could do. There was no way to keep her from everyone else and, when she woke up, she'd come looking for one of them anyhow.

Charles balanced himself as best he could with a hand to the headboard and leaned down and planted a kiss on his wife's hot forehead.

Caroline murmured something, sighed, and fell silent.

With a hand to the wall he made his way back to the kitchen and picked up the bucket. The trip to the well was grueling and took ten times longer than it should have. Jack went with him, growling and barking all the way. When he got back to the house Charles placed the bucket on the floor by the table and then went to check on the girls. Laura was tossing and turning and whimpering like she was in the middle of a nightmare. Mary? Well, Mary was laying still.

So still.

Leaving them, he returned to their room and found both Caroline and Carrie sleeping.

Completely exhausted, Charles made his way to the fireplace and laid in a couple of logs. His hands shook the entire time he tried to kindle the fire, but finally he managed it. As the log caught, its flickering light cast shadows around the cabin – weird, unnerving shadows. He stared at them as they danced on the common room walls. The room should have been filled with laughter and music. Instead it was quiet as a tomb.

Charles coughed and then swallowed hard. He was thirsty himself. Crossing to the table he leaned over to pick up the bucket.

And went down.

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Those people wouldn't go away. They kept talking and talking, first so loud she couldn't make out what they were saying and then so quiet their words got lost. The voices came fast sometimes and then, really slow. When she opened her eyes to see who it was that was so dad-burned stuck on chattering, everything in the room seemed to get tinier and tinier and move slow as molasses. Then, all of a sudden, everything was big, and moving so fast it seemed they'd bust right out of the room. And all the while somewhere a coyote was barking and howling. It had to be a coyote. She remembered her pa telling her when the mangy gray animals bark-howled it meant they were feeling threatened. This one sounded scared. The barking and howling hurt her ears. The insistent sound pounded through her head, so much so that she lifted her hands and put them over her ears to shut it out.

Laura sighed with relief when it worked and the sound went away. Then, as she turned over to try to go back to sleep, it started again. Even louder this time.

Mary moaned and turned over to look at her. "What is...that?"

She sure was feeling poorly. "Are you okay, Mary?"

Her sister licked her lips. "I'm thirsty."

She was thirsty too. Laura turned her head and looked toward the main part of the house. The big room was dark except for the light cast by a flickering fire. There were shadows moving in it. One of them was near the floor. It kept moving from one side to the other, coming toward her and then backing away. It took her a minute, but she finally realized it was Jack. He was pacing back and forth. Every so often he'd stop and pull at something on the floor and then let out one of those barking-howls.

He was right upset about something.

"I'm...thirsty," Mary repeated.

Laura sighed. She felt awful herself, but she was better than Mary. There was nothin' to it. She had to get her sister some water. As she pushed the covers away, she wondered where their ma was. Ma was usually right there when any of them were sick.

She sure hoped Ma wasn't sick!

Leaning over, she touched Mary's arm and said, "I'll go get you some water. You just lie still. You hear?"

Mary nodded weakly but said nothin'.

Getting up wasn't gonna be easy. Every time she tried her head swam like a fish in a pond. When she finally worked her way to her feet Laura felt like she was gonna throw up, and so she dropped to her knees and sat on the floor and put her head down between them. While she was sitting there Jack came and licked her face. She reached out and patted his head. In response he nudged her arm and lifted it.

Good old Jack, he was trying as best he could to help her get to her feet, but it weren't no use.

So instead, she crawled.

Jack went in front of her. She couldn't see him, but she could hear his toe nails clicking on the wood floor. Near the end of the table her hand hit the bucket. It was sitting on the floor of all things! She wanted to use it to pull herself up, but was afraid she'd pull it over and spill out all the water if she did. Instead she reached for the bottom rung of the chair.

Her fingers ran into something soft.

While she was sitting there, with whatever it was twined in her fingers, Jack stopped pacing and came to stand by her. He placed his muzzle against her hand and then moved it to the soft stuff and whimpered. It took about all that was in her to move her hand and feel what else was there. When she did, her breath caught and her heart nearly stopped.

It was Pa.

Pa was laying on the floor!

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Charles was locked in a fever dream where a tornado ripped through his land. He'd been away and as he approached the house, he saw the vortex dipping down out of the steel gray sky like a fist with fingers, gripping the roof and ripping it right off. The front door was hanging on its hinges and the windows had been blown out. Their animals were out of the barn, running loose. The horses were snorting with fear and the cows mooing for all they were worth, and all the while the wind whirled, lifting debris into the air and carrying it away.

Lifting his child and carrying her away.

He could hear her crying – Laura was calling his name. He ran after her screaming, shouting as loud as he could, reaching out and jumping up, trying to catch her feet, but they were just out of reach. Laura was just out of reach.

His child was going to die.

Charles gasped and his eyes flew open. Reality beat into him. He ached all over with a bone deep ache like a cancer. And he was cold – so very cold. His whole was body shaking from tip to toe.

He liked to die.

Then he heard it again. Laura's voice. Calling him.

"Pa?"

Pain shuddered through him. He moaned and turned his face toward the floor.

"Pa? Can you hear me?" Something touched his face. Someone spoke. Their voice shook almost as much as he did. "Pa?"

Charles climbed up from wherever pain and fever had taken him. "Half-pint...?"

"Oh, Pa!" He felt Laura's head fall on his chest. Her tears wet his shirt. "Oh, Pa, I thought..." She didn't finish the sentence.

She didn't have to.

Charles drew in a breath. Using what little strength he had, he raised his hand and touched her arm. "What're you doin'...out of bed, Half-pint?"

"Mary's thirsty. I was lookin' for the water bucket, Pa," she said, caressing his hair. "But...I found you."

He turned his head slightly, trying to remember where he was. He could see the outline of the table legs, highlighted by the fire's glow.

He was on the floor.

"So...you did." He hoped she could hear the weak smile in his voice. "I guess I...just kinda...gave out."

Laura small fingers gripped his shirt. "Oh, Pa! I was so scared."

"I'll be...right as rain...soon enough. You'll...see." His fingers found her pigtail. He tugged on it. "Say...can you do somethin' for me, Half-pint?"

She raised her head from his chest and looked at him. "Anythin', Pa."

"Can you...go...check on your ma? She...and Carrie are...in our room."

She turned and looked. "It's a long way, Pa."

He tapped her hand. "I...know. Just forget I asked. I'm not...thinkin' straight. You get yourself...back to your sister...with...that water, you...hear?" He started to push up on one elbow. "I'll...check on your...ma..."

A wave of nausea drove him back to the floor. It was a good thing they hadn't eaten supper before they were struck down. It would have all come back up. As he heaved, clutching his side to lessen the pain in his ribcage, Laura held him. When he lay back, spent, she put a hand to either side of his face and looked into his eyes.

"You hang on, Pa. I'll get you some water."

He wanted to tell her not to, to order her to leave him be, to go back to her bed and take care of herself and her sister, but he didn't have the strength to speak or the will to argue.

A moment later he felt his head being elevated and a trickle of water – like manna from Heaven – coursing between his lips.

"Better?" his little angel asked.

He gripped her wrist. There were no words.

"Charles?"

Laura stiffened. She looked down at him and then toward their room. The firelight revealed his daughter's fevered and fearful face. She knew what her ma would do if she knew he was lying there helpless on the floor.

He shook his head, begging her to say nothing. "Caroline," he called back.

"Oh, thank goodness." There was a pause and then a question. "Where are you, Charles?"

"I've got...a bed on the...floor by the fire." He drew in air, trying to add strength to his voice. "Don't you...worry about...me."

"The girls?"

"Half-pint's...gettin' Mary a drink."

"Laura? Are you better?"

It took a second for her to answer. "I don't know, Ma. Mary was so thirsty, I just had to get her some water."

He squeezed her hand. "You need to...take it to her."

Laura looked down at him. "I don't want to leave you, Pa."

"You go now." He patted her hand. "I'll...be...fine."

"Charles!"

There was panic in her voice. "What is it, darlin'?"

"...Carrie's sick too."

Dear God in Heaven!

As Laura shifted back, Charles pushed himself up and onto his elbows. They needed him. His family needed him. Determined to rise, he rolled over and caught the rung of the chair and dragged himself to his knees.

Unfortunately, the infectivity was just as determined as he was. Seconds later the floor rushed up to smack him in the face.

And he knew nothing more.

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Laura put her hand on her pa's head and brushed back the soppin' wet curls. Pa looked so sick she could hardly stand it, just like he had when he'd they'd found him in that crick after she'd gone to get Mister Edwards. She tried calling him again. When he didn't answer, she laid her head on his chest once more. It was rising and falling rapid as a stream tumbling over rocks after a storm. His heart was stampeding in his chest, so hard she could feel it pound against her cheek.

Other than her pa's heartbeat, the house was silent.

Laura lay there thinking and praying for a good many minutes, asking God to take care of all of them and to send someone to help. She'd heard of whole families dying before from sickness. Doc Baker'd seen it and it made him so sad to talk about it, the look on his face made her want to cry. It must be hard to be a doctor, she thought, knowing everything you know and not being able to help people all of the time.

Would he be able to help them, she wondered? Would Doc Baker come? Or were they all gonna...

Die.

Laura knew all about Heaven and she guessed it wouldn't be so bad if all of them went there at the same time. It'd be good for Freddie, too, since he wouldn't be alone no more. Ma said they'd be eternally young there. She said there was work there, but not the hard labor that Pa had to do, that made his back hurt and gave him that weary pinched look around his eyes. So that'd be good. Ma'd get to rest too and she sure didn't get much of that here. Laura shifted so her hand was on her pa's face. Pa'd been so sad when Freddie died. He'd be happy to see him. Ma said the children in Heaven were never sick and that they laughed and played and that Jesus said he wanted them to come to him. Maybe it was so he could laugh and play too. Laura frowned. She loved Jesus, but she didn't want to see him yet.

There were too many things she wanted to do.

She wanted to grow up and marry a man like Pa. She wanted to have children of her own. She wanted to see the big cities and she wanted to teach, just like Miss Beadle. Maybe write...

Wasn't none of it going to happen if they didn't get help.

Shifting, she sat up and looked at her Pa. He looked like he was sleeping. She gave him a kiss and then rose to her feet and stood there, hanging onto the back of the chair, deciding what to do. Pa couldn't go to get help so she'd have to. She had to get in that wagon and drive it to town and get help. She'd seen Pa do it often enough.

"I can do it," she said out loud.

She could save her family.

Laura picked up the bucket. First she'd get that water for Mary. She took two steps and then halted as the world spun around her. Drawing a steadying breath, she took another one and this time the sound of the fire licking at the logs swelled in her ears, pounding in tune with her hammering heart. Then, those tiny loud-soft voices came back, laughing as the things in the room grew tiny and then large, and then tiny again. She stumbled toward Carrie's room, dragging the bucket with her, spilling most of its contents as she went. Mary was calling for water again. Her head spinning, she sat beside her and dipped the ladle in. Then she brought it to Mary's lips and managed to get some water between her sister's lips.

After that, Mary went quiet.

Laura dropped the ladle on the floor and then crawled under the coverlet and laid against her sister. She'd grown cold while she was with Pa and was shivering. It was gonna take her a long time to get warm.

Laura turned her head toward the room where Pa lay.

She wondered if he was still living.

And then everything was silence.