Adam's POV
Hell. That what it was. Hell. My sweet little girl is sick and I can't even see or hold her. How do they know that I'm not already infected? I spend all of my free time with Samantha. I should be the one sick, not her. This waiting its hell, I've always been good at waiting, but not now this is eating me alive. They don't understand, how do they expect me to just sit around a wait?
"O Samantha!" I cried. Tears rolled down my face, not that I could stop them. This bed I was sitting felt like a rock but I don't care the only thing I care about is my daughter.
"Adam!" it was Little Joe, he was outside.
"Adam, there you are." Joe said as he joined me inside the bunk house.
"Where else would I be Joe. Since no one will let me be with Samantha." There the tears go again. Joe didn't say a thing he just grabbed my hand and drug me out the door into the yard in front of the house.
"Alright Hoss." Joe yelled toward the house.
"Joe what are you doing?" I asked.
"Adam stop asking questions and just look up at Samantha's window." I did what Joe said and looked up at my daughter's window. There was Hoss standing in the window hold Samantha in his arms. I could tell she wasn't feeling good. She was wearing one of my black shirts and in one of her arms was the doll I bought her on our first trip to town together. With her free arm she reached out toward the window, I reached my arm out toward her; I knew that she and I wanted the same thing, each other. Hoss left the window. I just kept staring at the window.
Later that night while I was in the bunkhouse the Doc Martin came to speak to me.
"Adam, do you know how she could have been exposed to it?" he asked me. I shook my head no.
"Adam, has anyone in the house had a sore throat that she could have drunk after?" That's when it hit me, I was the one that caused her to be sick.
"It was me." I whispered. "I had a sore throat earlier this week, but I didn't think anything of it I thought it was just from the air being so dry and all the dust in the air. I took her riding the other day and she took a drink out of my canteen. O God, it's my entire fault. She didn't tell me that she had a sore throat. O God!" I broke down, my little girl was sick and it was my fault. I didn't hear the doctor leave not that I cared the only think I cared about was that my little girl was sick and it was my entire fault.
How could I have been so stupid? What is wrong with me? I should have known better then to let her drink after me knowing my throat was sore. I was the worst Father in the world. I couldn't sleep or eat my family tried to force me, but I didn't care. My father gave me that speech of his the 'what good would you be doing to her if you make yourself sick.' I hate that speech.
Sometime before dawn my father and Doc Martin came into the bunk house. Pa sat down beside me.
"Adam, she's taken a turn for the worse."