CHAPTER THREE

Chicken Soup

Early Evening Tuesday, November 13, 1877

Heath and Margaret spent a long day going from one family member to another. Remembering how he simply hadn't wanted to be bothered, Heath didn't knock on doors. Instead, he tapped very lightly. If no one answered, he simply opened the door and, if the occupant was awake, asked if they wanted anything.

Margaret was making more tea when someone knocked at the back door. She opened the door gingerly. Sam stood back about eight feet from the door. "Just checking to see how everyone is doing and if you need anything," he called.

"Heath and I are fine today, but everyone in the house is sick." She shrugged. "We're a little worried about Silas. He seems to have a cough with his, but we're keeping a close eye on him."

"Jeannie and Isabella made a large pot of chicken soup for you. I put it by the door there."

"Thank you," Margaret said. "Jeannie and Isabella and the kids all okay?"

"So far," Sam replied. "Should I get the doctor for Silas?"

Margaret hesitated. "Let me ask Heath." She turned. Heath was just walking into the kitchen from Silas' bedroom. "Should Sam get the doctor for Silas?"

Heath considered. He wasn't one to call a doctor except in a life-threatening emergency, but Silas was older and he did have a wheezing cough. Victoria would certainly tell him to send for the doctor. "It might be a good idea."

"I'll go get him now. If you need anything later, come and get me at the bunkhouse."

"Will do, Sam." Heath gave a tight half-smile. "'Preciate your help." He started to close the door.

"Jeannie sent a pan of soup," Margaret told him.

Heath waited for Sam to leave, then stepped out and brought in the huge pot of steaming soup. "Smells good." He set it on the stove and put a low flame under it. "I wonder if anyone feels up to eating?"

"You stay with Silas," Margaret said from behind him, "and I'll run upstairs and see."

He turned, wrapping his arms around her waist as he did, and kissed her. "I'm 'bout ready to go back to San Francisco."

Margaret giggled. "As long as you take me with you."

"Having time alone with you would be my whole reason for going." He didn't take his lips off hers long enough to speak. "Maybe we could get a permanent suite in the hotel and just stay in all the time."

Margaret laughed. "We'd have to use fake names so Nick wouldn't find you."

"Oh, Nick would find us. I ain't never been able to hide from that man. He's just like a bloodhound." Heath moved one arm up her side, then moved his hand under her breast. "You ain't got no corset on."

"When I'm just staying home all day, I don't see the need for one."

Heath's crooked smile lit up his twinkling eyes. "Absolutely no need at all. And it sure does make, uh, accessing things easier." His cheeks burned. Damn that blush! "I don't know who invented the corset, but if I ever run into him, I'm a gonna lay him out but good!" His hands moved lower until he could cup her bottom and pull her closer to him. "No petticoats, either!" He took a step back. "Have I ever told you how damn good you look in that housedress?"

Margaret grinned. "A few times."

"And you feel even better than you look!"

Silas coughed.

Heath jumped away from Margaret. He'd forgotten he'd left Silas' door open so he could hear the old man.

Margaret slapped her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from being heard.

Neither said anything for a few minutes.

Finally, Heath took a deep breath. "I'll check on Silas. You wanna see if anybody upstairs needs anything? If they're awake, let 'em know we got some good soup for 'em, if they feel up to it."

Margaret nodded and ran up the backstairs, trying to save the feelings Heath had aroused in her for later.

Heath went into Silas' room.

The older man was awake and trying not to cough.

"How're ya feelin'?" Heath asked.

"Been better," he said.

Heath felt his forehead. "You still got a fever—don't feel as hot as ya did, though. You holdin' things down now?"

Silas coughed. "Yes, Mr. Heath."

"You want some willow bark tea or some chicken vegetable soup?"

"Did you make soup, Mr. Heath?"

Heath chuckled. "No. Jeannie and Isabella sent it over. Which, unfortunately, means the bullfrogs are missing."

Silas grinned. "That sounds mighty fine, Mr. Heath, mighty fine."

"I'll bring you a bowl. The doc will be out here in a bit to check on you."

"Oh, Mr. Heath! Don't bring no doctor out here for me!"

"I don't like that cough you got," Heath said.

"I be fine, Mr. Heath. I be fine."

"Some of the others might need checked too." Heath gave the old man a smile, then hurried to get him a cup of soup and some crackers.

Several minutes later, Margaret hurried downstairs. "Where's your mother?" she whispered to Heath.

"In with Silas."

"Jarrod is coughing too. Worse than Silas is. He sounds really congested." Her forehead crinkled with worry. "He asked me to make him a hot toddy."

Heath nodded. "Run and get the scotch and I'll get some water boiling for it."

"We had a hand that got pneumonia and was really sick. Daddy moved him into the house and I'd boil water. Daddy would take the pan of boiled water up to him and cover his head with a towel over the steam, and the steam would help loosen him up."

"Anybody I know?"

"Uh, no. That was several years ago. He moved to Arizona."

Heath nodded and took out another pan and filled it with water. "My mama did that for me a couple of times, and it helped." He put it on a burner. "It's worth a try." He considered a minute. "She used to put some herbs or something in it."

A knock sounded at the back door. Heath went to the door. Dr. Merar stood there. "Sam said I should come to the back door."

Heath opened the door for him. "Sorry for calling you out here so late."

"Who's sick this time?"

"Just about everyone. Margaret and I had a stomach upset and fever yesterday, but we're fine today. But it looks like we gave it to everybody else. Mother is up and about, Nick is sleeping and seems to be about over it, Audra seems good."

Dr. Merar tried to figure who was left. "Isabella? Nick's wife?"

"She's staying at Sam's house. Nick didn't want to take a chance on her or the boys getting sick."

"Good. Good." He scratched his head. "Who did you skip?"

"Jarrod," Margaret said. "He's coughing too and sounds worse than Silas."

"Okay. So, I just need to check Silas and Jarrod?"

Heath looked at Margaret. "I think so, don't you?"

She nodded. "Nick was up and complaining a little bit ago, so I think he'll be fine."

Dr. Merar smiled. "I'll start with Silas, then."

"We will be delivering soup, so yell loud if you need us," Heath said. "And Mother is with Silas, so she can probably help you if you need it."

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Heath was dishing out chicken soup for each ailing member of the family when Dr. Merar stopped in the kitchen on his way out. "I left some laudanum in Silas's room and in Jarrod's room. I'd rather they not take it during the day, but it could help them get some sleep at night."

Heath frowned. He wouldn't give it to them unless they asked for it. He hated laudanum. He hated the way it tasted. He hated the way it made him feel. And he hated that he knew how addictive it was.

"Just keep doing what you're doing," Dr. Merar continued. "It's fine to give them hot toddies, but not more than two or three a day. The steam idea is also fine, and Victoria can make a good poultice to put on their chests if they need it."

Heath nodded.

"Chicken soup or even just chicken broth is good for them. The willow bark tea is also fine—it will settle their stomachs and relieve the fever and pain," Dr. Merar stated. "Hopefully, everyone will be over this in a few days," he added. "But if anyone gets worse or if the cough lasts more than seven days, send someone for me."

"Thank you, Doctor." Heath walked him to the door. A basket filled with mail sat on the stoop, along with a note. "I picked up the mail while in town. Hope you don't mind. Let me know if you need anything. Sam."

And the basket was overflowing with mail. He handed it to Margaret. "You want to sort that?"

"Of course," she answered, and took the basket to the dining room table. It looked like Caroline and Charlie had sent a letter to each member of the family. There were also cards and letters for Heath and Margaret, most likely congratulation letters. And there were letters from JR—one for each member of the family, although Victoria's seemed a bit thicker and heavier than the others. Margaret left the ranch mail in its own pile. She wasn't sure who to give it to, so she'd let Heath sort it.

Heath carried a large tray filled with bowls of soup and cups of tea with honey and lemon upstairs, where they visited each ailing family member. Margaret took the tin of crackers, napkins, spoons, and the mail. Jarrod was finally sleeping, so Margaret left his mail and a cup of tea. Everyone else was awake and still had trays available, so Margaret took a bowl of soup and a cup of tea off Heath's tray, added a napkin, spoon, and crackers, and then set any mail on the tray for the individual.

They entered Victoria's room last. She sat up in bed, reading. "You don't need to wait on me!" She pulled her robe around her. "I can eat downstairs."

"You also have some mail." Margaret handed the small stack to her. JR's was on top.

Victoria studied the handwriting, then relaxed against her pillow. "Maybe I will eat here, since you've already carried everything up."

Margaret smiled and arranged the meal on Victoria's table. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

Victoria clutched JR's letter. "Much better. Thank you."

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