Chapter 5

Ezra shook to the point of convulsing. He lay on his right side and could feel the weight of blankets and the occasional heat of a cloth on his neck, but it did little to aid his discomfort. Muscles ached and protested with agonizing cramps. His knuckles were white, and his fingers clasped onto the edge of the blankets. The smaller he tried to make himself the more uncomfortable he became. His chest was on fire, his throat raw, his stomach felt as though someone had taken a branding iron to him, and his joints throbbed. Every sound, vibration, and light bore nails into his head, and he could only gasp for breath.

"He's in a bad way, Jane," Gertrude said, and applied a warm cloth to his neck. She gently rubbed his shoulder and pressed her palm to his forehead.

Jane stood over the stove and boiled a hearty broth. The house was warm, warmer than it had been in a long time and the fires in the stove and fireplace continued to roar with life. Flames flew upward and out the narrow chimney. Melting snow dripped past the windows despite the freezing temperature outside.

"I don't know what to do, Jane," Gertrude said, "Even after the bath he's freezing."

Jane grabbed a cup and ladled some of her soup into it. "Let's get him up, maybe get some hot broth down him. Maybe we should warm him up from the inside." She grabbed her skirt and walked across the uneven floor and carefully placed the cup on the end table.

His sudden gasps and moans brought tears to her eyes as she forced him upright, and Gertrude wrapped her arms around him while she sat leaning against the headboard of the makeshift bed. She pulled his head against her shoulder, keeping one hand on his forehead and the other wrapped around his shoulders.

Jane sat on the edge of the bed and stirred her soup. "He's young and strong." She scrapped the bottom of her spoon against the lip of the cup and brought it to his lips. "Drink up, son, my sister's beside herself."

His lips parted and Jane took advantage and tipped the spoon upright. She grabbed a washrag and wiped his chin, catching the spill from his mouth. She wiped his cheek with her hand and sighed.

"He swallowed," Gertrude said, and stretched her lips into a smile, she continued to rub his throat with her hand.

Jane nodded: "Well then, let's keep at it."

He never opened his eyes, and only after the swallowing became painful did he stop. He reached from beneath the blankets and was rewarded when Gertrude grasped his hand and gently rubbed her fingers across the back of his knuckles. She looked up and met Jane's eyes.

"He's not—"

"Just this once, Jane, just this once." She ran her fingers over the top of his hand and gently pressed the tops of his knuckles. Familiar in an unfamiliar way, she smiled, clenched her jaw, and looked at Jane.

Hesitantly, Jane nodded. She replaced her spoon into the cup and stood. She looked at her sister, bent at the waist and kissed her cheek. "He's not David."

Gertrude nodded, and pressed her lips into a thin smile. "I know."

"The problem with Pikes is it's unreliable," Mr. Dawson said, pointing to a fork on the map. "With the speed of the river in this weather, Mr. Standish could have been swept into this fork," he pointed toward the one flowing north, "if he's lucky, he may have managed to get himself in one of the alcoves—"

"If he didn't?" Chris asked, looking at the map.

"The southern most tributary's rougher, and, as much as I hate to admit it — you could be searching for your friend for the next several years. A lot of dirt farmers have been branching small dams along the southwestern side — he may might have got caught up in one of the dams — but if he did…" He shrugged and wiped his chin.

"Damn," Buck sighed. He leaned back and rubbed his neck.

"With the speed of the current, how far do you think he'd be down river?" Josiah asked, looking out the window as the sun started to descend.

Dawson shrugged: "I can't answer that, Josiah — nobody could."

"We'll head out first thing," Chris said. He grabbed his duster, slipped it on, and then walked out the front door.

"Thank you, Mr. Dawson," Josiah said, and folded the map.

Mr. Dawson walked to the door and turned. "You boys have done a lot for this town, and if there's anything I can do to help…"

"Prayer," Josiah said, "we could use your prayers."

Dawson nodded and left the saloon.

"How're you feelin', Vin?" Nathan asked.

Vin leaned back, feeling his muscles tighten and protest. "Should be good as new after some rest — I'll be ready to ride come sunup."

Buck grabbed his hat and stood. He slapped it against his thigh as he walked toward the door. "I'll ride out an' get JD — we could use the extra set of eyes."

"Buck?" Josiah said, and allowed his gaze to fall across the faces of his friends before settling on Buck.

"I'll be careful."

Gertrude sat on the edge of the bed carefully brushing the stranger's bangs from his forehead. Her sister sat in the chair facing the fireplace, her glasses rested on the tip of her nose while she read. The stranger had stopped shivering, and now he suffered the occasional tremor. He was more relaxed and his breathing had eased.

Jane looked up, closed her book and set it beside her on the table next to her chair. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "You should get some sleep, I'll stay up with him."

Gertrude shook her head. "I'm fine." She pulled the blankets around his shoulders. "Did you love James?" she looked at her sister.

Jane sighed: "Of course I loved him."

Gertrude nodded and gently brushed the right side of the stranger's face with the back of her fingers. "How did you know?"

"What's gotten into you?"

"How did you know you were in love…? I don't remember what it felt like." She looked at her sister while sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You're tired, and you need to get some sleep." She stood, placed the paper on the counter and poured herself some tea. "As soon as he's well enough…we should send him on his way."

"Jane?"

She shook her head and added a small amount of sugar to her tea. "It's not right that he's here…" she said, and then took a deep breath to continue, "I loved James, and together we had four beautiful children, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him." She retook her seat and blew into the cup.

"Father told me once that I would have to marry a fool," Gertrude said, folded her fingers together and dropped her hands to her lap. She smiled, thinned her lips and said, "When David asked me for my hand…" she looked at the stranger in the bed and then back to her sister, "I refused him."

Jane lowered the cup and watched the fire's reflection dance across her sister's frail face. "Why?"

Gertrude wiped the stray tear that fell and took a deep breath. "I didn't think I deserved him."

"But all those letters he sent you?"

"He wanted to ask me again… after the unpleasantness was over," she turned and tucked the blankets around the shoulders of the stranger, "but he never made it home — Indians took him from me." She licked her bottom lip and rolled her lips. "Father would have been surprised if I'd married him — David wasn't a fool… he was a good man."

"Gertrude?"

"I think you're right, Jane, I do need some rest." She stood and patted the front of her dress. "I'll leave my bedroom door ajar should you need anything."

Jane sighed and lay against the back of her chair. The fire blazed and the winds continued to pass the house, reminding them of their place… reminding them of their isolation. She looked at the stranger, catching glimpses of a young man fighting for his life. "I hope you have family," she said, "family makes all the difference." She looked toward her sister's room and slowly rocked back and forth in the chair.

Despite being bundled, the weather stung. Chris pulled his jacket tighter around himself and watched angrily as the snow continued it descent. The ground had frozen during the night, and snow continued to gather within the confines of the scarred earth. Horses slipped and stumbled through wagon tracks, in the places where the wildlife had trekked and where horsemen and farmers had traveled.

Vin winced with every stumble. Muscles were tight, sore, and badly bruised, but he ignored them the best he could. The palomino he rode had a smooth gait, but it didn't match Peso's. He clenched his jaw and looked over the white-blanketed land, knowing what they would and would not find. He looked toward Josiah and saw the same.

They all knew the odds, but they would continue their search.

If not for a friend, then a brother.

The stranger sat up and collapsed to his right. His chest tightened, and he coughed. He grabbed the blankets and tightened his hold as he tried to keep the spasms from becoming worse. Every muscle protested with each agonizing wretch. He could feel hands on his back, gently moving in circular motions, easing his misery. A wet rag was pressed to his mouth and wiped his chin, and he moaned when stomach muscles trembled. Green eyes peered through thick lashes, and he caught glimpses of color shades, and blurry forms. The aroma of home hit his senses and he looked up.

The woman sitting next to him on the edge of his bed smiled. Her brown hair was streaked with gray, her features lined with age and wisdom.

"Shhhhh," the woman soothed, and helped him lay back against the pillows. She ran a hand through his wet hair and then wiped his face again. "You've been coughing since two this morning."

"How is he, Jane?" Gertrude tied an apron around her waist and quickly checked her appearance in the broken mirror next to her door, before walking up to the bed. She placed her hand on his brow and sighed. "Fever?"

Jane nodded: "Started early this morning." She stood and walked to the kitchen as her sister took her place on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to make up some of momma's elixir." She pulled a few tins from the cupboards and a small bowl.

Gertrude stood and pulled the blankets from the end of the bed, folding them toward the stranger's knees. She sat by his feet and grabbed his right foot. "His feet are cold." She placed his foot in her lap and began massaging his calf. "There's some liniment in the cupboard, Jane, bring it to me."

Jane spun, grabbed the brown bottle and handed it to her sister. "He's a gentleman," she said with a smile. "He trims his toenails." She walked back to the cupboard. "James," she gasped and shook her head, "he had the worst feet I'd ever seen and his toenails… good heavens, I'd make him go outside and trim them."

Gertrude chuckled: "I've never heard you talk about him in such a manner."

"I shouldn't," she said, and measured a small portion of mustard seed. "But Lord Above he had the worst feet."

Gertrude smiled and then winced when the stranger choked and then started violently coughing. She moved from her position at the end of the bed to the head, and held him while the episode continued. He tried to cover his mouth but he was just too weak to lift his hand. She braced her arm hand beneath his chin and across his shoulders while she rubbed and patted his back with her left. He wheezed, fighting to breathe, and she could feel his tremors and pain. "Shhh, take a deep breath," she said. She looked over her shoulder and saw Jane mixing her concoction. Gently, she helped him lay back, and sighed when he heard the rattling of his chest, the fluids building within his lungs. "I don't know, Jane," she said, standing.

"Don't give up on him," she said, and added a small amount of whisky to the mixture. "The Good Lord never gave up on His people, and we shouldn't either."

Gertrude nodded and grabbed a thick pair of wool socks from a bureau. She walked to the end of the bed and applied more liniment to his feet before slipping them into the socks. They were too large, and gathered at his toes and ankles. She stretched her back, feeling the pain start, and she walked to the fireplace where she pushed a stone from the embers and rolled it onto the floor. She gathered it up in a towel, checked to make sure it wouldn't get too hot and then placed it between his ankles and then covered his feet with the blanket. She wiped her brow, watched him shift uncomfortably on the bed and then she looked outside as the snow continued to fall.

Jane sighed, and then tossed her spoon into a bowl. She followed her sister's gaze and smiled when she spotted a horse in their front yard. "Do you think it's his?"

Gertrude shrugged and pulled her shawl from the hanger. "I'll put him in the barn, he looks as miserable as our charge."

Jane patted her sister's shoulder and then walked to the bed. She heard the door squeak open before sitting on the edge of the mattress. She unbuttoned the front of the stranger's nightshirt and pulled back the fabric. The mixture was thick as she carefully applied it to his chest, and it warmed beneath her fingers. The smell wavered and she could feel it clearing her sinuses. "I hope this helps," she said, "Momma swore by it. It was the only time I ever saw her use whiskey." She ran her hand along his collarbone, and then lay her hand flat against his chest above his heart. "You look to be about my son's age… he's a newspaper man in Texas." She sighed and carefully closed the front of his shirt.