Chapter 18
In the middle of the night, the entire Browning household was awakened by pounding on the back door.
Connie came out of her room in her nightgown, her hair hanging to her waist. This kind of thing had happened often when she was younger. Someone would come to them in the middle of the night for any number of reasons.
She threw her mother and father a look of questioning as they joined her in the hallway. They were soon followed by her aunt and uncle and Faith. Then a shirtless Tom came from his room near the stairs, and Connie’s eyes widened. She met his gaze in the dim light of her mother’s lamp. There was a look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite understand.
“Here, you might need this,” Faith said, handing Connie her robe.
Connie had forgotten all about her modesty. “Thank you.” She quickly donned the robe and tied the belt. Maybe that was why Tom had such an odd look in his eyes. She felt her face grow hot. She dared to look at him, but he was busy wrestling on his shirt.
There were voices coming from downstairs. Apparently Isaac had beaten them all to the door. Her father went down the steps first, with Uncle Lance and Tom following close behind. Connie saw that Papa and Uncle Lance both had revolvers. It was only then that she grew afraid. Had the time for the uprising come?
Isaac met them all at the bottom of the steps. “Ann is here. Something is wrong with Ruth. I sent her back home and told her I’d bring Faith right over.”
“I’m going too,” Connie declared. “She might need me.”
“We could come as well,” her mother offered.
“No, it’s probably best only Faith and Connie go. They’re younger and can run faster if the need arises,” Papa said. “With Sam making his anger clear, I don’t wish to let any of you go, but I know we must help.”
“I’ll get dressed,” Faith said and started for the stairs.
Connie followed her into the room they shared. “Do you think you’ll have to operate?”
“It’s hard to tell at this point. If the baby is already on its way, we may only have to help with the delivery. Have you ever done anything like that?”
Connie shook her head. “I went with Mama a couple of times when she helped local women, but only to watch.”
“Just follow my instructions, and we’ll be fine.”
Connie kept thinking about Faith’s comment an hour later. It was already light, and she had no idea if Sam would stop by to see his wife. It worried her to think he might come and catch them there.
Ruth was doing her best to give birth to her child, but it was rough going. At one point the poor girl fainted, scaring Connie half to death. Faith handled the situation without batting an eye. She was so capable and qualified. She seemed at ease and without worry as she talked to Ruth after she regained consciousness.
“Just try to rest between the waves of pain,” Faith told her.
Connie looked at Ann. “Sam won’t stop by now that it’s morning, will he?”
Ann shook her head. “He’s helping his father and brothers round up horses. He told me yesterday that he’d be gone for a couple of days.”
“Good. That’s very good.” Connie looked at Faith. “We should be all right.”
Faith motioned for Ann and Connie to follow her out of the room. “If she doesn’t make progress soon, I may have to operate. She’s much too weak, and I’m afraid this could kill her—not to mention the baby. Her sickness has already made her fragile. I don’t think she can take much more.”
Ann nodded. “You do whatever you have to, Faith. Try your best to save them both.”
Faith did what she could, but the progress remained slow. Ruth struggled to push, but there was no fight left in her, and Faith decided to give her a tea that would help expel the baby.
“I need you to go to your mother and ask for more of the tea we used to quicken Ruth’s labor.”
Connie nodded. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
She made her way via the shortcut, worrying about what would happen if Ruth died. Sam was already so angry. He would probably start a war all on his own if he lost his wife and child.
Her mother was in the garden when Connie reached their house. She was cutting stalks of rhubarb and humming to herself. Aunt Hope was at the other end of the garden, picking herbs. She glanced up and saw Connie approaching.
“Mercy, Connie’s back.”
Connie hurried to her mother’s side. “Faith asked me to get more of the tea that quickens labor. Ruth isn’t doing well, and she’s making such little progress that Faith is worried.”
Her mother nodded. “Follow me.”
They went into the house and to the small room where Connie’s mother cured herbs and created her healing concoctions. She reached up and took down a jar of crushed leaves. Then she selected a bottle of liquid.
“This is a strong tincture of the same herbs that are in the tea. I’ve had great success with it, getting labor to progress. Tell Faith this might be easier to use than the tea. Especially if Ruth is very weak. She might not be up to drinking much. A few drops of this will do the trick.”
Connie nodded. “I think Faith is pretty worried. You might pray.”
“We’ve been doing that since you left. Has Sam tried to stop by?”
“No, he’s off gathering horses. He won’t be back until late tomorrow.”
Mama looked relieved. “I’m glad. That alone is answered prayer.”
“I’d better get back.” Connie kissed her mother’s cheek, then made a mad dash for the back door.
By the time she reached Ann’s house, Connie realized she’d seen nothing of Tom or the other men in her family. She wondered what they were up to. Hopefully they were figuring out where the weapons were hidden. If they could only find the house with the cache of guns, then the Indians wouldn’t have the weapons needed to start a war.
“I’m back,” Connie said, hurrying into the house.
Faith came out of the bedroom. She looked quite worried, and Connie couldn’t help fearing the worst. “Is she . . . dead?”
“No. But I fear she will be if that baby doesn’t come soon.”
Connie held up the bottle and jar. “Mama said this tincture would work faster and be stronger than the tea.”
Faith took the bottle. “Good. We’ll give it a try.”
Around three o’clock that afternoon, the baby was delivered. A stillborn son. Faith wrapped him carefully in a blanket provided by Ann. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she placed the baby beside Ruth.
“My baby. My baby,” Ruth murmured and wept.
He was perfectly formed and looked like he was sleeping. Was Faith certain he was dead?
“We wanted to call him Joseph—after Sam’s father and my mother’s son who died. Now he walks with them.” Ruth pulled the baby close and washed his face with her tears.
“I’m so sorry, Ruth. I know you’re devastated,” Faith told her. “But you are very weak. We need you to fight to live.”
Ann took a seat on the bed beside her stepdaughter. She used a damp washcloth to wipe Ruth’s forehead. “Don’t leave me, daughter. Do not go after your son. Stay with us.”
“A baby needs his mother.” Ruth’s words were barely audible.
Connie could barely stand it. The grief of Ann and Ruth was so painful to bear, and yet Faith managed it stoically. Perhaps that was what made her a good doctor.
After about thirty minutes, Ann got up and took the baby. “I’ll wash him.” She and Ruth had said very little, but words seemed unimportant. The love between them was their strength and consolation.
By suppertime, Faith told Connie they’d done all they could and should probably slip away—hopefully unnoticed. They made their way home, keeping to the forested path rather than the main roads.
Connie wanted to talk about what she’d experienced but didn’t know what to say. How could a person speak of such a sad thing and make any sense of it? But still she wanted very much to understand.
“Why did the baby die?”
Faith turned to her. “I don’t know. It happens sometimes, and we don’t always understand why. Ruth was sick—some sort of ague. Apparently, it made the baby sick as well. Or perhaps the baby was sick and made Ruth ill. I just don’t know. It’s one of the most frustrating things about being a doctor. We do what we can to understand, but it isn’t always possible to have answers. Sometimes babies just die, and sometimes both mother and child die. It’s still possible Ruth may pass away, especially if she’s lost the will to live.”
They walked in silence the rest of the way home. Faith immediately went inside while Connie lingered outside. She heard Faith explaining what had happened, and tears came to her eyes. She could never be as strong as Faith. She could never be as strong as Mama or Aunt Hope. She sat down by the back steps and buried her face in her hands.
“Are you all right?” Tom asked, his voice gentle and soothing.
Connie looked up and shook her head. Tom sat beside her and put his arm around her. Connie slumped against him, grateful for his support.
“Ruth’s baby died. Faith couldn’t save him. Ruth may die too.”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been hard for everyone.”
She nodded. “I so admire Faith. She was so strong and brave. I could never have that kind of strength.”
“You’re strong in other ways. Everyone has their strengths.”
“I just don’t understand why the baby had to die.” She sniffed back tears. “Faith didn’t either. She said sometimes there just isn’t an answer. But that’s not good enough for me. There’s always an answer. We just don’t know what it is. But we should.”
“Maybe so, but knowing won’t change things.”
She loved the sound of his voice. She pressed her ear against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. That soldier could have killed him, and the thought of this made Connie cry all the more. Tom didn’t seem to mind. He held her tight and never tried to hurry her grieving.
What a great friend Tom was to her. No one cared about her like he did. No one . . . loved her as he did. She thought about his supposed feelings for her. Was he truly in love with her? Could she love him in return? She already did love him, in a way. He was her dear friend and always managed to see her through bad times. There was no one in the world whose company she would rather have.
She eased away from his hold. “I’m sorry for being so weepy. I’ve never had to deal with something like this.” She studied his face for a moment, then gave him a hint of a smile. “Thank you. I should go and make sure Faith is all right. I’m sure she is, but I should check.”
“Of course,” he said in a hushed voice.
Connie hurried inside and found her mother and Aunt Hope cleaning up after dinner.
“Are you all right?” Mama asked.
“I think so. I don’t know how Faith does it. She’s so strong, and no matter how bad things got, she managed without fear. I wish I could be more like her.” Connie moved toward the stairs. “I’m going to go lie down. I’m just so tired.”
“You have a nice long rest. We’ll bring you up something to eat,” her mother said. “Don’t worry about anything.”
Connie nodded. She heard her uncle and father in the living room. It sounded like they were playing chess, so she didn’t bother to greet them and instead made her way upstairs. Each step seemed to take more effort than the one before. She went to the bedroom she was sharing with Faith and quietly pushed the door open. Faith was curled up on her bed, her face buried in her pillow, weeping softly.
Maybe Faith wasn’t able to deny her feelings as well as Connie had thought. She guessed doctors were just as human as everyone else.
The next morning, as Tom helped Adam Browning care for his livestock, he couldn’t help but think of Connie. She had felt so right in his arms. All he wanted was to tell her how much he loved her—how he wanted to spend his life with her.
“Tom, check the leg wound on the bay, would you?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Browning.” Tom inspected the wound. “It’s healing nicely.”
“Thanks. Would you mind turning him out in the pen?”
Tom led the bay to the outdoor pen and removed the lead and bridle. Besides thinking of Connie, he thought of the transformation that had happened in his own life. Connie’s father had helped him see that God did exist. It hadn’t happened in one stellar moment, but rather in a long presentation of truth. Adam Browning had used the Bible, but also had proven God in nature and by the word of his own testimony. His patience and kindness toward Tom had struck a deep chord. If his own father had been a godly man, Tom might never have doubted God’s existence.
He turned at the sound of someone approaching and saw a worried-looking Isaac entering the barn. Tom made his way back inside and found Isaac whispering something to his father.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
They both looked at Tom. Isaac glanced around, then spoke in a whisper. “We should get inside. There’s trouble brewing.”
They headed into the house. “Mother?” Isaac moved through the kitchen into the dining room. The aroma of sausage gravy and biscuits filled the air.
Mrs. Browning and Mrs. Kenner sat in the front room, reading the Bible. They smiled when they looked up, and Mrs. Browning asked, “Ready for breakfast?”
“There’s going to be trouble,” Isaac answered. “Where’s Uncle Lance?”
“Upstairs,” his mother replied. “Why?” She frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Ruth Sheridan died. One of Sam’s friends learned of it and has gone to find Sam. Worse yet, he knows Faith had something to do with the delivery.”
Mrs. Kenner gasped and put her hand to her throat.
Mrs. Browning sighed. “We knew it was a possibility. The tribes all believe that if the doctor can’t save the patient, they too should die. Hope and I were just talking about that yesterday.”
“We should get them out of here. Faith isn’t safe, and Connie might not be either.”
Mrs. Browning nodded. “How long do we have?”
“Not long. Sam was in the north gathering horses, but he’ll leave that in a heartbeat when he hears the news.”
“Then we haven’t much time,” Mr. Browning declared.
A hard knock pounded on the front door. Tom was closest and went to see who it was.
Clint Singleton came inside without invitation, pushing past Tom. “We’ve got trouble.”
“We know,” Adam Browning replied.
Singleton frowned. “You know about the soldiers?”
“What soldiers?” Tom asked before Mr. Browning could.
“There are several companies of soldiers coming our way. No one knows why, but word has spread among the Indians that they’re coming here to kill everyone.”
“The soldiers may actually be to our benefit,” Mercy Browning said. “Faith and Connie helped Sam Sheridan’s wife, Ruth, yesterday. She was in labor, and the baby didn’t make it. Isaac just told us that neither did Ruth. Sam’s friend has gone to find him. He will no doubt demand a blood price.”
“You’re right. The soldiers may well be our salvation,” Clint said. “Where are Faith and Connie now?”
“Upstairs. They had such a rough time of it yesterday that we let them sleep in.”
“You should get them out of here. Maybe you should all go,” Clint said, shaking his head. “I don’t think any of this is going to calm down so long as you’re here.”
Mrs. Browning turned to her sister. Mrs. Kenner was positively white. “Hope, you should pack your things. We’ll get you an escort and get you out of here before Sam can harm Faith.”
“Take Connie with you. If she was a part of this, she won’t be safe either,” Adam declared.
Tom wasn’t sure what part he should play. He wanted to make sure Connie stayed safe, however. “I can help them get away,” he offered.
“Thank you, Tom,” Mr. Browning said.
Mrs. Browning headed for the stairs. “I’ll go wake the girls and get them packing.”
“I’ll get our things packed,” Mrs. Kenner said, hurrying away.
“I’m serious,” Clint said, looking at the men, “you should probably all go.”
Mrs. Browning stopped at this and came back. “I won’t leave, Adam.”
Mr. Browning shook his head. “I don’t believe they’ll hurt Mercy or me, but anyone who is a stranger might be a problem. How far out is the army?”
“Only about ten miles,” Clint answered. “I’m going to go speak with the Indian Legislature. I sent word for them to come to my office.”
Browning nodded. “Lance, get your things ready, and when the army arrives, I’ll go immediately and request an escort to at least get you and the others to the train. For now, though, I’m going back to Clint’s office with him. We’ll try to head things off with the tribes.”
“Are you sure you won’t be in danger as well?” Tom asked.
“These people know me. They know I am not the enemy, and I mean to prove it by staying to face them. It won’t be the first time we’ve had trouble.” Mr. Browning moved to the door, then turned back. “But frankly, it might be good for you to go with them, Mercy. I won’t have time to worry about you, and I may need Isaac’s help.”
“I don’t want to leave without you,” Mrs. Browning said.
“I know, but do this for me.”
They both fell silent for a moment, and finally the gravity of the situation seemed clear. Mrs. Browning nodded.
“Let’s go,” Browning said to Clint.
Once they were gone, Mrs. Browning went upstairs, and Isaac went to move his sheep into the pen rather than the far pasture.
Tom didn’t like the situation at all. Once they left the protection of the house, the Indians would have the advantage. They could lie in wait and ambush the entire lot. He needed to talk to Connie.
He made a dash up the stairs, hoping he could have a minute alone with her while her mother helped her sister and niece pack. He saw Connie huddled with her female family members in the bedroom. It was obvious they were praying.
Tom had only just come to believe God existed. Would God listen to him if he prayed? He was a sinner. Wasn’t there a verse in John that said God didn’t listen to the prayers of sinners?
“Oh good, Tom, you can help us,” Mrs. Browning said as she caught sight of him standing in the doorway. “We need to hurry.”
By the time the army arrived, it had been decided that Tom would remain at the reservation while Connie and her family would head to Portland. Isaac insisted on staying to care for the livestock so their father would be free to do whatever he could to maintain peace.
Connie didn’t want to leave, but everyone insisted. Even Tom and Clint wanted her out of the way. She knew there was still the matter of figuring out who was responsible for inciting the Indians to war. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to Tom about the additional details Faith had learned about the location of the Indians’ gun house. She knew she needed to tell him before they forced her from the reservation. Unfortunately, he’d been busy helping Isaac with his sheep.
That evening they ate in shifts and tried to keep an eye out for anyone approaching the house. Connie had never seen her father so upset, and in turn, that upset everyone else. Adam Browning was known for being calm and collected, and the fact that he was agitated and afraid was unusual.
“Connie.” She turned to find Tom. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
“I wanted to talk to you too.” She pulled him into the kitchen, where they could be alone. “What did you want to say?”
“You go first.”
Connie felt momentarily lost in his gaze. He really did have the most beautiful blue eyes. “I . . . uh, Ruth said something about the place where Sam goes. The house filled with rifles. I don’t know where it is exactly, but it’s not far from the big bend in the river. Near where I saw them unloading crates.”
“The night Clint kissed you?” Tom asked.
Connie nodded, ignoring the fact that he sounded jealous. “Exactly. Ruth said it’s in the woods to the north of the river. Get your journal, and I’ll sketch it out as best I can.” He started to go, but Connie stopped him. “Wait, I almost forgot. Ruth said there are always guards around the house.”
“That makes sense. If your entire future depended on the contents, you’d have guards there too.” Tom turned to go, but heavy pounding on the front door drew their attention. “It sounds like someone is trying to beat the door down.”
Connie started for the front room, but Tom held her back.
“What if it’s the Indians?”
“Papa and Uncle Lance would never let anyone get the drop on us.” She pushed past him, and Tom had no choice but to follow her.
Two soldiers stood just inside the living room with another dozen or so outside the door. Maybe they’d come to stand guard.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” her father was saying to the captain.
Connie froze in place. She could feel the tension. Something wasn’t right.
“You’re under arrest,” the captain said. “We’re taking you back to Portland to try you for the murders of Gerome Berkshire and Samuel Lakewood.”