Angel listened to the footsteps, heel, toe, heel, toe, as Travis headed for the cabin door. “Are you going to the barn?” “I thought I’d walk out and check on Junior. I find the little babies entertaining. Want to go with me?”
She liked the way he asked her to do things with him, just like Pa used to. She scratched at a spot behind her ear. Mosquitoes must not die off here as early as they did in Nashville, ‘cause it seemed she’d wandered into a pack of them. “Yes sir.” She scrambled off the floor to her feet. “Do you want me to lead you since it’s getting dark?”
“I’d like to escort you, Miss Wharton, if your cute button nose wouldn’t be offended by the rankness of my work shirt.”
Angel coughed several times. “I’d be honored, Dr. Logan.” She dipped in a mock curtsey. Her throat tickled, causing her to cough again.
“Pffft. It’s not dark.”
Jake. Ready retorts climbed onto her tongue, waiting for her to fire them from her mouth, but she packed them into the “proper lady basket” and shut the lid with reluctance.
Someone cracked his knuckles.
“Please don’t do that, Jake.” Heaven’s tone was as sharp as their rooster’s beak.
Step, swish, step. Heaven was wearing one of Ma’s gowns. She wasn’t as tall as Ma, and the skirt dragged across the floor. Whose attention was she trying to get? She hoped not Jake’s. The light steps grew louder as she came near. “Are you feeling all right, Angel?”
“Peachy.” She wouldn’t tell Heaven her throat hurt, or she’d be tucked in bed with a warm brick before she could protest.
“Jake, I think we should see the baby goat as well. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around farm animals, and the little ones are adorable.” Mrs. Miles brushed past her, leaving behind a flower bed of roses.
Angel’s fingers made their way to the itchy spot again, and she dug in. Those two were as annoying as the bug bite. She didn’t want to spend time with them. She wanted Travis to herself, or at least to have only Heaven with them. “Then let’s get going. Annabelle and Heaven, are you coming, too?”
“I’d love to. Thank you, Angel, for inviting me,” Annabelle said.
“I think I’ll stay here and heat the coffee. When you come back, it will be hot, and we’ll have another piece of that pie you made this afternoon.” Heaven hugged her. “It’s a really good pie.” She whispered in Angel’s ear and sent her out the door.
Today had been a tornado of emotions for Heaven. The coffeepot clanked against the stove burner plate as she replaced it on the stove to keep warm for the others. The china cup warmed her hands as she took a sip of the dark brown brew. The silence fed her soul. Before today she’d missed the hustle and bustle of friends coming and going, having forgotten how wearying it could be to have your company face stuck in place all day like dried molasses.
The canvas-covered windows took on a reddish glow from the setting sun while the evening chill snaked through the fibers. Travis said he’d ordered shutters as glass was still too costly, but they wouldn’t be in for a week, maybe longer. But with the wood Jake chopped and split, she and Angel would stay warm through the winter. She set her cup on the table and stuck her hand into her apron pocket. She pulled out her parent’s daguerreotype. Someday she would get the glass fixed. For now she wanted a safe place for it where Angel wouldn’t knock it over by accident. One more fall and the glass would likely crumble.
The bookcases had been righted, and there was an empty spot where books used to sit. She’d place it there until the bedroom was weathertight. She held it up for another good look. Her parents weren’t smiling, but then no one did, Ma said. Back then it took so long to take a picture that smiles often drooped. But Ma’s eyes seemed to sparkle, and the way Pa stood proud behind her with his hand on her shoulder, she knew they were in love. She wanted that, had begged God for it, and the only one to ask her to marry was a man she didn’t love. The frame went on the newly waxed shelf. The women from church had cleaned everything. The marks on the wall she’d made to measure the passing of days since her father left were still there. They hadn’t touched them. She brushed them with the hem of her apron, but they smeared. If she stayed, she’d cover them with new chinking when they did the new room.
She had to give Jake an answer soon. Angel had found a lot of motherly love in the cabin’s kitchen today. The church women had treated her like one of their own—on a special day. They had her sister laughing.
Laughing. Not the laugh Angel had been offering since their ma passed. This was the belly laugh that started with a throaty chuckle and ended with tears sprinkling Angel’s cheeks.
How could she take that away from her sister? Move to some unknown place where they might not even have a home? With Jake hunting gold, they’d be living in some miner’s shack. She wouldn’t marry him. Besides, something had changed. She liked him still. And that was the problem. She liked him, not loved him. She wanted to marry for love. She knew that now. Like Annabelle, she’d rather live as a spinster—if she could find a way to support herself. If not on this farm, maybe there would be a place in town she and Angel could afford. Maybe the Shaws would let them live on their farm and help with their baby and clean. They could bring Mr. and Mrs. Jackson and Junior and start their soap-making business.
In her heart, she knew that wouldn’t happen. Times were still difficult, and it was doubtful Mr. Shaw could afford to hire her or even feed them long enough for HA to bring in enough money.
Jake was no longer a choice, but that left her staying in Friendship and marrying Travis—just because Pa said so. That rankled her, despite the knowledge she liked Travis a lot, even loved him if she weren’t afraid to admit it.
And then there was Annabelle’s offer to consider. Heaven knew that was a bad idea, romantic and adventurous, but not something she should do, and neither should Annabelle. Without a husband or true means of support, it was craziness to think they could move to a new town and open a shop.
The rain-sodden door shuddered against the threshold as it was thrust open. The door had been found in the woods, and one of the men reattached it, assuring her it would work fine once it dried. Annabelle came in leading Angel by the hand. “Heaven, something is wrong with her.”
The light in the cabin wasn’t sufficient for an examination. Travis had Heaven light the lamps along with the candles so he could examine Angel. Red spots dotted her hairline, and now she scratched her side. He glanced away from his patient to her hovering sister. “Heaven, have you had the measles?”
“When I was five. Is that what Angel has?” Heaven placed a trembling hand on Angel’s cheek. “She’s burning up.”
The pie in Travis’s stomach soured. The spots, the fever, and the cough she’d had yesterday were clear signs that she had the dreaded disease. The town needed to be notified, quarantined. The sourness turned to acidic bubbles. People in this town would die.
“The child has the measles?” Shards of panic sliced through the cabin as Mrs. Miles backed away. “Jake, we need to leave now. Neither of us has had them.”
“Mother, we need to stay and help.” Jake took a step closer to his mother and away from Heaven.
Travis noticed. If the man loved Heaven, why wasn’t he offering her comfort?
“Annabelle,”—Heaven’s face leached to the color of porcelain as she spun around and faced her friend—”did you have them when I did?”
Annabelle shook her head in denial. “No, Mother kept me locked in the house every time there was a threat so I wouldn’t catch them. It worked, because I didn’t catch them.”
“Then you have to leave. With Jake and Mrs. Miles.” Heaven pushed her friend toward the door. “Jake, get the buggy.”
Annabelle whipped away from Heaven and backed up against the wall. “I’m not leaving. You need help. I wasn’t here before, but I am now.”
Angel scratched at her face.
“Don’t.” Travis grabbed her hand. “If you do that, you might get scars on that pretty face.”
“But—I—can’t—help—it. It itches.” Angel whined and tried to pull her hand back.
“I’ll make a plaster for you. Heaven will smear it on the spots, and it won’t itch as much.” Travis struggled to talk like a comforting doctor. “The rest of you all need to go back to town. Stay in your rooms. Jake, you need to find Preacher Reynolds and ask him to get the word out. Everyone should stay home. Maybe we can keep the town”—he remembered Angel’s presence—”safe.”
“Heaven, when you were at church the other day, did anyone mention not feeling well?”
“No, not that I remember.” Her wide eyes didn’t even blink at him. He knew she was thinking about what had happened the last time a fever came to this cabin. He wanted to reassure her that this was different, but he couldn’t. And if he tried, she would know he was lying to her.
“Cassie was coughing. She coughed a bunch.” Angel’s hand went back to her scalp. Her fingers went walking.
“So it’s probably making its way through town now.” Travis knew he couldn’t turn his back on the town. He would be called, and most likely some would die. He didn’t want to look Heaven in the eye and tell her that her sister might be one of them.
Jake took Annabelle’s hand. “You need to come with us, Bella. Dr. Logan knows what is best, and that’s for us to be in town. It won’t help Heaven if Angel gets better and then you get ill.”
Bella? So now that Heaven wasn’t jumping into Jake’s arms, it looked as if he was setting his sights on her best friend. Annabelle seemed to be a smart woman though and would see through him.
Mrs. Miles gathered the stitching she’d brought along. “He’s right, dear. Your mother protected you when you were young, and now that she’s gone, I feel I should do so in her place. Get your things together. It’s a good thing we didn’t bring that trunk of stuff along.”
“Angel, I’m going out to the barn to get what I need to mix up that plaster for you. Say your good-byes to your friends.”
Travis left the cabin with Jake thumping down the porch steps behind him.
“Logan, think she’ll survive?”
Travis halted. He stared at the barn and saw army tents in his mind. “I don’t know, Jake. A lot of people don’t.” His flesh crawled as if he’d been ordered back to the front. Devastation of families awaited him wherever he went. Beads of sweat rolled down his neck as the tents turned into Heaven sobbing over the death of Angel.