CHAPTER TWELVE

Adam and Sport trotted into town just after 10 p.m. Most of the houses were dark, but Widow Hawkins's boardinghouse was lit up like a Christmas tree, and Adam could see silhouettes through the windows. He recognized Josie's immediately as she rushed from room to room. He left Sport at the livery, apologizing to the stable boy for the late hour, and swept back to the boardinghouse. He dithered on the porch, uncertain if he needed to knock in this situation. He decided he probably didn't and let himself in.

The sight inside nearly knocked him back onto the porch. The lobby, usually an inviting room with a lovely little tea table, several squashy armchairs, and a display of the Widow's late husband's weightlifting memorabilia, had been stripped of its decorations. The floor was covered with patients, some on cots, but most on the floor. Many were delirious with fever and moaned and shouted nonsense. Others, whose illness had progressed to pneumonia, were hit with violent spells of a wracking cough that made his throat and chest hurt just to hear them. One young lady shivered violently, despite being covered by three thick blankets. This was worse than anything he could have imagined, and this was only the lobby. The boardinghouse had three stories.

As Adam stood by the front door deciding where he should start looking for Josie, Patience entered the room carrying a large tray of steaming teacups. His nose wrinkled as he recognized the bitter odor of willow bark tea.

"Hey, Patience," he said.

She nearly flung her tray in the air. "Adam!" she exclaimed as she brought the wobbling teacups back under control. "What are you doing here?" Worry creased her face. "Are you sick?"

"No." He stepped over a prostrate patient and took the tray from Patience. "I'm here to help. Do you know where Josie is?"

Patience studied him for a moment. Josie had told her about Adam's recent mood, but his eyes shone with a genuine interest and concern. "I'll go get her, but I can't promise she'll be glad to see you."

Patience was correct. When Josie flew into the lobby a few minutes later, she was furious. "What do you think you're doing here? I told you all to stay on the ranch!"

"I wanted to help. You've got so many patients. I just wanted to help." The explanation sounded pathetic when he spoke it aloud.

Josie wanted nothing more than for Adam to turn around and go home. She couldn't bear the thought of him contracting the flu; in his current state of mind she wasn't sure he would fight it off. But when her eyes met his, she saw the same bright interest and concern Patience had recognized. It was the first time in a month that those familiar hazel eyes had been anything but dull and apathetic. She sighed. "We could use more help, especially since Margaret came down sick yesterday."

Adam closed his eyes and sighed. "How is she?"

"It's hard to say." Josie's voice was flat. "Everyone's bad at first. We'll know more in another day or two. Either she'll start to get better, or she won't."

Adam nodded, amazed by Josie's professional detachment. If Ross or Delphine were seriously ill, he'd be beside himself. He said a silent prayer for mercy, not only for Margaret, but for everyone lying sick in the boardinghouse.

"What can I do?"

As Josie thought where best to place him, Adam noticed how pale and thin she was, as if she hadn't been eating or sleeping properly for the past week—which, he realized, she probably hadn't been. Her typically shiny black hair was dull and lank, and she had deep, dark circles under her eyes.

"Come with me," she said at last. "I'll put you to work on the third floor."

She led him to the third floor and put him in charge of checking fevers, delivering tea, broth, and quinine, and alerting her or Dr. Martin if someone took a turn for the worse.

"Who's in that room?" Adam asked, pointing to a closed door at the end of the hall. Josie had taken him into every other room on the floor to introduce him to the patients, but she had skipped that one.

Josie sighed. "Do you know the Pearsons?"

Adam nodded. Bert Pearson ran a small farm outside of town, and his wife, Amy, was an accomplished seamstress. Nearly every lady in town owned a dress she had sewn. He knew they had a young daughter, but he couldn't remember her name. "They all sick?" he asked, envisioning the room on the other side of the door packed with the ill family and wondering why Josie hadn't taken him in.

"There were. Bert died three days ago, and Amy followed him the next morning."

"Good Lord," Adam breathed.

"Their daughter, Elizabeth, is still sick. Paul and I both expected her to make a full recovery, until we had to tell her yesterday that her parents were dead. She's refused all food and water since then. She won't even talk to anyone."

Adam swallowed a hard lump in his throat. "How old is she?"

"Six. Paul wants to try force-feeding her tomorrow, but it's a form of torture, if you ask me. At this rate, she isn't going to last more than another day or two. We hoped that putting her in a private room where she could grieve openly would help, but it hasn't."

"It's the lack of will to live we talked about this summer, isn't it?" Adam asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. I have to get back downstairs, so I'll leave you to it. Sally and the Widow are sleeping right now, so you and I can have a break in about three hours. I'll come get you."

"Okay."

Josie started to leave, then turned back to Adam and gave him a big hug. "I am glad to see you, all things considered. Thank you for doing this."

"Anything for you, Little Sister," Adam said, smiling down at her.

Josie returned to the second floor, and Adam began his rounds. After one lap of the floor, he poked his head in on Elizabeth Pearson. He opened the door quietly, expecting the child to be asleep—it was past midnight—but she lay on her side with her back to the door, her large green eyes open and staring blankly at the wall.

"Hey there," Adam said softly, but tiny girl did not respond. He set his tray of tea and broth on the table next to the bed and pulled up a chair. He laid a hand on the girl's forehead. Her fever didn't seem to be too high, but her sallow complexion told him she was dehydrated. "I'm Adam Cartwright. What's your name?" He knew very well what her name was, but it seemed polite to ask.

Still no response.

Adam tucked a strand of the girl's limp, light-brown hair behind her ear and tried again. "If you won't tell me your name, I'll just have to guess." He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. "Is it Rumpelstiltskin?"

No response.

"I didn't think so, but better safe than sorry. Is it Seamus McGillacuddy? No? That's all right, I'll keep trying. How about George Washington? No, that can't be it, you're a little young for wooden teeth." This elicited a small smirk from the slight figure in the bed. "Am I at least getting close?" Adam asked, encouraged by this small acknowledgement. "What about Loony McGee?"

"Elizabeth Pearson," the little girl whispered in a feeble voice.

Adam's eyes lit up. "Elizabeth!" he exclaimed in mock exasperation as he threw his hands up in the air. "That was going to be my next guess. Honest." The little girl smiled fully now. "My mother's name was Elizabeth," Adam continued. "I've always thought that was the most beautiful name in the whole world."

"Really?" Elizabeth rolled over to face him, her green eyes lighting up.

"Really. And it only gets bestowed on the most beautiful little girls."

Elizabeth smiled again.

As Adam coaxed Elizabeth into telling him her name, Josie had come up the stairs to see if he wanted a snack. She paused outside Elizabeth's door and smiled as she heard Adam guessing silly names. It reminded her of the way he used to cheer her up when she was small. When Elizabeth replied, Josie's mouth dropped open, and she lingered outside the door to eavesdrop.

"You know," Adam continued, "Elizabeth is also Dr. Cartwright's middle name."

Elizabeth scowled. "Dr. Cartwright's mean."

"You're telling me, kid, I live with her."

Josie considered poking her head into the room so she could stick her tongue out at Adam, but she didn't want to disrupt the progress he was making with the little girl. She opened the door a sliver and peered in.

"Tell you what," Adam said, "how about you have some of this broth I brought in?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Ain't hungry." She pursed her lips.

"Funny thing about hunger," Adam said, picking up the bowl of broth, "if it goes on long enough, you quit feeling it. Believe me, I know." His face darkened briefly. "Besides, the fastest way to get Dr. Cartwright to quit being so mean is to do what she says, so sit up and have a little."

Elizabeth wrinkled her freckled nose. "Do I have to drink the tea, too?"

Adam chuckled. "Absolutely not. I wouldn't wish that stuff on anybody. But if Dr. Cartwright asks, you drank the whole cup, all right?" He winked at the little girl, and she winked back.

Elizabeth tried to sit up, but after two days with no food or water, she didn't have the strength. Adam moved to the edge of her bed so he could lift her into a sitting position. He put his left arm around her for support and leaned her back against his chest. He held the bowl of broth in his left hand and carefully spooned the liquid into her mouth with his right.

Josie could hardly believe what she was seeing. She raced to the stairs and called down for Dr. Martin.

Dr. Martin jogged up the stairs and started to ask what was going on, but Josie hushed him. She led him down the hall and indicated that he should peek into Elizabeth Pearson's room. His eyes widened as he saw Adam feeding Elizabeth, who not only was eating, but was also carrying on a conversation.

"How?" Dr. Martin asked, turning back to Josie.

Josie smiled. "I don't know, and frankly, I don't care. She's eating." The two doctors watched a few moments more before heading downstairs to see to the rest of their patients.

Over the next ten minutes, Elizabeth finished off the entire bowl of broth and a large glass of water. Adam eased the little girl back onto her pillows and told her to get some sleep.

"Adam, my folks is dead," she said.

Adam was surprised by this sudden change of topic and shifted his weight from foot to foot for a moment while he collected his thoughts.

"I know. Dr. Cartwright told me. I'm so sorry, Elizabeth."

A fat tear rolled down the little girl's cheek. "What am I gonna do? I'm all alone."

"No, you're not," Adam said, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. "You've got a whole town full of people who will make sure you're taken care of. I will personally make sure you're taken care of. So right now, you just go to sleep and don't worry about it."

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course."

"Will you be back tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and reached for Adam's hand. He held it tightly until her grip relaxed, and he knew she was asleep. He gazed at the sleeping child and couldn't help feeling proud of himself. He hummed softly as he slipped out of the room and closed the door.

Sally and Widow Hawkins had returned by the time Adam made it back downstairs, so he and Josie retired to the room above the Dr. Martin's clinic for a few hours' sleep. Adam thought they might chat a bit before turning in, but as soon as they reached the room, Josie dropped onto the nearest of the two beds and fell asleep instantly.

He shrugged, set an alarm clock for four-thirty a.m., lay down on the second bed, and fell asleep.

When the alarm went off three hours later, he groaned and slapped at it until it quit clanging. Josie slept right through it. Adam looked fondly over at his cousin on the other bed a few feet away. She hadn't even taken off her shoes before falling onto the bed, and her right arm dangled off the side. She needed more sleep, but he wasn't willing to face her wrath when she discovered he hadn't woken her for her next shift. He got up and shook her shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked confusedly up at him. "Adam? What are you doing here? Oh right," she finished as the memory came back to her. "Sorry. The days are all bleeding together."

"It's okay," Adam said as Josie sat up and rubbed her eyes.

Josie sighed heavily. "Let's get back to it."

They returned to the boardinghouse to relieve Dr. Martin and Patience, who told her that Margaret was growing worse. Dr. Martin pulled Josie aside.

"Her fever's still climbing, Josie. I don't think she can fight through it."

Josie nodded resignedly. This strain of influenza was fast-moving. A patient could go from healthy to dead in a matter of days. As with any epidemic, it hit children and the elderly hardest—about eighty percent of the patients they had lost so far had been either younger than six or older than sixty—but some young adults had succumbed, too. Adam laid a hand on Josie's shoulder.

"Go check on Elizabeth," Josie told him, pulling away. "If she's awake, give her more broth."

Adam understood; Josie couldn't afford to be comforted right now. He mounted the stairs to check on his little patient. Elizabeth was still asleep, but she looked a bit better. He tucked another strand of hair behind her ear and left the room to check on the rest of the third-floor patients. One of the older women was gasping for breath, so he ran down to the second floor to get Josie.

He found her bent over Margaret, who was lying motionless on a cot on the floor of one of the bedrooms. She dabbed her friend's forehead with a damp rag.

"How is she?" Adam asked.

"Not good," Josie said without turning around. Her voice was strained. "Paul was right. She's getting worse."

Adam looked down at Margaret, whose curly brown hair swirled around her head like a halo. Just a few days ago she had been healthy and vibrant and tending to patients.

"I'm sorry to pull you away, but Mrs. Peterson upstairs is having trouble breathing," he said.

"Right," Josie said. She rose slowly to her feet and followed Adam upstairs.

Josie checked Mrs. Peterson and told Adam that the woman had only hours left.

"If she wakes up, talk to her. Let her know she's not alone. But she probably won't wake up." She made a quick round of the other patients on the third floor and then headed back downstairs.

Adam continued sponging off fevered foreheads and giving sips of tea and broth to the patients who were awake. He checked on Elizabeth a couple more times, but the little girl was still sleeping peacefully. Around eight a.m. he returned to Mrs. Peterson, whose gasping had turned into a deep gurgle. Adam knew a death rattle when he heard one, so he sat next to the elderly woman, took her hand in his, and waited. He didn't have long to wait. Twenty minutes later, she let out one last breath and didn't inhale again. Adam said a quiet prayer and pulled the blankets over the woman's head. When Sheriff Coffee and his deputies came by shortly thereafter, they carried Mrs. Peterson to the undertaker, along with three other patients who had died during the night.

Elizabeth finally awoke just before ten a.m. and called for Adam. He raced into her room with more broth, which the little girl slurped right up. After the previous night's food, water, and sleep, she could sit up unassisted, and the color was returning to her freckled cheeks. As she ate, Adam entertained her with stories about Boston and Washington, DC. Elizabeth was particularly fascinated by the idea that mean Dr. Cartwright had once been a young girl, too.

"What was Dr. Cartwright like when she was little?" the girl asked.

Adam thought about this for a second. "Shorter," he answered. Josie had matured, certainly, but she still had the same spirit and stubbornness she had exhibited as a child.

Elizabeth found this answer hilarious and giggled herself into a coughing fit. Adam handed her a glass of water and rubbed her back until her coughing settled.

"You should get some more sleep," he said.

Elizabeth scowled but laid back down, nuzzling her face into her pillows. "Adam? Would you sing to me? Pa always sang me to sleep." The little girl's eyes filled with tears that spilled onto her pillow.

Adam marveled at how she could go from giggling to grieving so quickly, but then he remembered Little Joe in the months after Marie had died. One minute the boy would be laughing and chasing around after Hoss, and the next he'd be climbing into Adam's lap and sobbing. Children grieved in fits and starts, he supposed.

"Sure," he said. He sat down next to the bed again and launched into the first song that popped into his head.

One floor below, Josie's ears pricked up when she heard a familiar baritone wafting down the stairs. She listened in amazement as Adam made his way through the first verse: "Early in the morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a maiden singing in the valley below. 'Oh, don't deceive me. Oh, never leave me. How could you use a poor maid so?'"

Dr. Martin heard him, too, and glanced over at Josie, who was staring at him wide-eyed.

"What's wrong?" he said. "A little music could do us all some good."

"You don't understand. Adam hasn't sung in over a month. I couldn't even get him to sing me a song on my birthday."

Dr. Martin smiled. "Welcome back, Adam," he said, and turned back to his patient.

"And welcome back, Elizabeth," Josie added.

When the song ended, Elizabeth smiled at Adam and thanked him for the song.

"You're welcome," he said. "It's just too bad I don't have my guitar with me. Now go to sleep." He kissed her forehead and slipped out of the room.

Adam and Josie took another three-hour rest from eleven to two, establishing the pattern they would follow for the next several days: six hours on, three hours off. Adam marveled that Josie had been able to keep up such a schedule for more than a week. He was wiped out after the second day, and all that kept him putting one foot in front of the other was the way Elizabeth Pearson's face lit up when he stepped into her room. The child was improving rapidly under his care, but six more patients died over the next couple days, and by Adam's fourth day at the makeshift hospital, Margaret Crawford was ready to join their ranks.

Around noon, Adam stepped into the room where Margaret lay with four other patients and found Josie, Dr. Martin, Sally, and Patience crowded around Margaret's cot. Josie dabbed her friend's forehead with a cool compress and begged her to wake up.

"Please, Margaret, don't go," Josie whispered.

"Patience," Dr. Martin said, "would you please fetch Miss Crawford's parents?"

"I'll bring my father, too," Patience said and rushed out of the room, nearly colliding with Adam.

Adam swallowed hard and stepped over to Dr. Martin.

"Paul?"

Dr. Martin turned to look at Adam and shook his head. By the time her parents arrived, Margaret was gasping for air. Reverend Lovejoy arrived just in time to say a prayer over the girl before she gasped her last and lay still. Mrs. Crawford let out a wail that shook the windows as Patience and Sally clung to each other and wept. Silently, Josie caressed her friend's cheek a final time and pulled the sheet over the young woman's face.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't save you," she whispered to her friend's lifeless form.

When Josie tried to stand, her knees buckled, but her Cousin-Cousin was not going to let her fall. Adam caught her and held her tightly for a moment before leading her from the room.

"Josie," he said, "you need to rest. You can't go on like this."

She shook her head and drew in a deep breath. "There are other patients who need me." She took two steps, and her knees buckled again. Adam caught her again. This time he picked her up and carried her downstairs and out the door of the boardinghouse. He bore her across the street to the clinic and up to the bedroom. Just before he laid her on a bed, Josie broke out in violent, body-wracking sobs. She clutched the front of his shirt, which was soon soaked through with her tears. Still cradling her in his arms, he sat on the edge of the bed and let her cry.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, her nose stuffy from crying. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's all right," Adam said, though they both knew full well what came over her. She was exhausted beyond the limits of endurance, and one of her best friends had just died. He laid her down on the bed and pulled off her shoes. "You sleep for a while. I'll go back to the boardinghouse to help."

Josie was too tired and overcome with grief to argue. She closed her eyes and drifted off. Adam lingered a few moments to make sure she was truly asleep and then went back to the boardinghouse. He met Sheriff Coffee on the porch; the lawman had come to take Margaret Crawford's body to the undertaker.

"Sorry to hear about Margaret, Adam," Roy said. "How's Josie?"

"Exhausted. She's sleeping right now."

Roy nodded. "That's good. Wouldn't want her getting sick, too."

Adam shuddered at the thought. "Hey, Roy, I've been wanting to ask you something. Elizabeth Pearson. What's going to happen to her?"

"She's got an aunt and uncle in Sacramento. I was going to wire them tomorrow, but it'll probably be several weeks before the stage comes back to town. They've refused to come through while the influenza's here. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. She'll be well enough to leave here in another day or two. Wasn't sure where she'd go."

"I'm sure we can find someone to take in a little girl for a few weeks until her family can fetch her," Roy replied.

"I'll take her to the Ponderosa. She'll like it there. She's used to being on a farm, and she'll have fun playing with Hoss and Little Joe."

Roy's eyebrows went up. "You talked to your pa about this?"

Adam scowled. "I can make decisions without consulting my father. Besides, he wouldn't turn away an orphaned little girl."

Roy agreed, and the two men went inside. Adam went straight to Elizabeth's room. She squealed and threw her arms around Adam's neck when he told her she would come home with him and Dr. Cartwright for a few weeks. Adam felt happier than he had in months.

Adam let Josie sleep for a solid eight hours before he went back across the street to wake her up. He brought some venison stew and biscuits that the owner of the International House had sent over for the doctors and nurses. After the long sleep and the hearty meal, Josie felt like a new woman and accompanied Adam back to the boardinghouse, where they relieved Dr. Martin.

That was the first night they had no new patients arrive at the boardinghouse, and Josie allowed herself to hope that the epidemic was slowing. Over the next five days, they received only two new patients, and most of those already in the boardinghouse recovered sufficiently to return home. Charlotte Larson offered to take Elizabeth to her house until Josie and Adam were ready to return to the Ponderosa, but Adam and the little girl enjoyed each other's company so much that they kept her at the boardinghouse, where she played with Pip and continued to regain her strength. As the workload continued to lighten, she, Josie, and Adam would often entertain the remaining patients in the evening with songs and silly stories they made up. Elizabeth even decided that Dr. Cartwright was not so mean after all when one evening Josie presented her with a doll she had purchased during a quick run to the general store.

Finally, in early November, after three and a half weeks, the last patient returned home, and Widow Hawkins was able to reclaim her boardinghouse. In all, the makeshift hospital had treated 117 patients, thirty-two of whom had died. Josie was proud of the eighty-five people they had been able to save, but her heart ached for every patient they had lost, especially her dear Margaret. She nearly sobbed with relief as she and Adam saddled up Scout and Sport and, swinging Elizabeth into Sport's saddle with Adam, headed home at last.