Mark brought out the horses to the buckboard the next morning before Anyata even started making breakfast. Luke came out on the porch with a cup of coffee, calling, "What are you doing?"
"Morning, Pa." The boy looked crestfallen. "I just wanted everything to be ready for going to town."
Luke walked over to his son. "You seem pretty anxious to get there."
"Well…" Mark patted the near horse. "It's been almost three weeks since we went to town."
"You go every day to school." Luke sipped the coffee, his eyes twinkling.
"Oh, Pa, you know that's not the same thing." Mark lowered his voice. "Besides, I haven't stayed in town after school once. Everybody is always looking funny at me and whispering about Miss Anyata and her father. Why, I haven't gotten a single piece of candy since they came here. As soon as school lets out I come right home."
"Does that bother you, son?"
"I don't know." Mark scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. "I like playing with my friends, and seeing Micah and Hattie. It's just not much fun right now." The boy looked up. "But what else could we do? When folks are in trouble, we help them, right? You always taught me that if I could do someone a kindness, I should do it."
Luke quoted softly, "Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin. James 4:17." His throat felt tight. "Leave the horses, son. I'll hitch them up as soon as breakfast is done and we'll go and spend the whole day in town. I'd like to have a good long talk with Micah myself, and Hattie probably thinks we forgot all about her."
They went back to the house side by side, smiling at Yule and Anyata. The old man had his own place at the table now and he regarded the father and son with the faintly pleased expression that meant he was glad to see them. Anyata nodded to them, then brought over a platter piled high with pancakes.
"No paprika?" Luke teased.
She huffed. "Even a gajo should know paprika does not go in pancakes."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Luke and Mark reached at the same moment for the last pancake. "You can have it, Pa."
"No, that's all right, son. You take it."
Anyata cut the pancake down the middle. "There! Now you both have it." Her lips twitched as if she were holding back a smile.
Luke chuckled. "If you ever do decide to stay in one place, you could open a restaurant."
She translated the comment to Yule and the old man nodded, then spoke. "My father is pleased you like the food. I learned from my mother, who was best cook in our tribe. Also best healer."
"What's a healer?" asked Mark. He started taking dishes to the sink.
"What you call doctor." Anyata brought the rest of the dishes.
"Don't you have a real doctor?"
"Mark!" Luke shook his head. "A healer is a real doctor. They don't go to the same kind of school as somebody like Doc Burrage but they know how to take care of sick people."
"Yes." Anyata nudged Mark to one side and pumped water into the sink. "My mother knew herbs, what to do for fever, how to set bones and draw poison…" She fell silent, then went on resolutely. "She taught me all she knew but I could not save her. She fell ill with the spitting blood."
"I'm sorry," said Luke. "We call it consumption and there's not much our doctors can do for it either."
Anyata spoke to her father and he replied, his eyes liquid with sorrow. "My father says everyone must die but it is always hard."
"My mother died too," said Mark. He got Margaret's picture. "I was so little I don't really remember her as much as I'd like to but she sure was beautiful."
The woman took the picture. "She has a good face." She passed the picture to her father and he studied it, then spoke. "Mr McCain, my father says you were fortunate."
Luke took the picture and set it down very gently on the table. "I know." He cleared his throat. "Mark, get those dishes done. I'm going to hitch up the horses."