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1872
A YEAR HAD PASSED SINCE she lost the baby. Elli marked the anniversary in her heart, but she turned steadfastly from self-pity. She no longer allowed it a place in her life. It had been hard to do so at first, but she had persevered.
How she had grown in her walk with the Lord since that day, the day God had spoken so clearly to her!
Even with Amalie pregnant again, Elli no longer felt the sting of her own empty womb. Over the past year she had made it her undertaking to give herself to those in need, often nursing sick families or providing hot meals for them. I have found comfort in comforting others, she acknowledged.
Their whole farming community—indeed, their state and bordering states—were struggling with drought. Two growing seasons without enough rain had left them with meager crops. Many families were barely getting by.
Tomorrow I must do something for the Beckers, Elli planned on the way home from the church meeting. Talbert and Maria must be struggling to care for their family right now!
The Beckers, another German family in the church, lived a few miles north and east of them. According to a nearer neighbor, all the Beckers except Talbert—Herr Becker—were sick.
“Maria had a baby only a few months back and now she is down with fever. Talbert is caring for her, the baby, and their other children,” the neighbor said, clearly concerned. “I did his chores yesterday and the day before and my wife has brought them several meals.”
Talbert must be pulling his hair out by the roots. Elli shook her head. When a wife was ill in bed, many a husband was at his wit’s end to feed and care for the sick wife and children. He must still manage his own chores, many which could not be neglected or put off.
The next morning, thinking to provide the sick family with a few nourishing meals, Elli doubled her bread making. While the loaves were rising, she cut onions and the butt of a leftover roast into small pieces and set them to braise in hot, melted fat.
While the onions and chunks of roast were sizzling, she scrubbed and cut up carrots, potatoes, cabbage, and turnips. She slowly added flour, water, and the drippings from the leftover roast to the meat and onions, stirring until the bubbling mess thickened.
Elli set a large pot on the stove and poured the meat, onions, and gravy into it. Then she added the chopped vegetables, and a jar of canned mixed vegetables—corn, lima beans, and chopped winter squash. She seasoned the stew with pepper, fresh sage, and rosemary and set it to simmer on a back burner.
In another pot she boiled a chicken for broth. You are a tough old bird, she laughed to herself. But your meat will make a small chicken pie for us and your broth will feel good on sore throats, eh?
She took inventory of her preparations: Nourishing broth, my good stew, several loaves of fresh bread, a dish of butter, some cheese, and dried herbs for tea. That should keep them a day or so, she deliberated. Then, considering the number of Becker children, she began rolling out crust for pies.
Elli tripped down the cellar steps and hauled up a basket of apples. Two pies for them, two for us, she hummed.
Later, as she pulled the browned and bubbling pies from the oven, Elli saw Søren striding past the house on his way to the barn. She leaned out the back door and called to him. When he came near, she asked, “Will you harness the bays for me in an hour? I want to take a hot meal to the Becker family.”
It will be an hour’s drive to take the food to them, she figured as she began packing the items she would take. I will stay only an hour so that I am back in plenty of time for supper.
The faint track to the Beckers’ farm was dry, and Elli had no difficulty finding her way. The wagon sped along at a good clip until she pulled into the yard fronting the family’s small house.
Elli looked around and, frowning, recognized that the Beckers were in a worse way than she had thought. The rundown appearance of their house and barn bore stark testimony that they were struggling just to survive during these years of drought.
Elli knocked and, after several minutes, Talbert opened the door to her.
“Ach, you poor dears,” she commiserated as she stepped inside.
The few windows of the house were cloaked. The house was unbearably stuffy, and Elli could scarcely see in the dim light.
“Please don’t open the curtains, Elli,” Talbert begged in German. He gestured to the windows and Elli understood. “Maria has a bad headache and the light pains her so.”
Although she did not grasp the meaning of all his words Elli nodded. “I brought some hot food,” she answered him.
Coughing into his hand, he nodded his thanks and then disappeared into the back of the house. Elli had observed how poorly he looked himself.
It took Elli two trips from the wagon to the house to bring in the meals she had brought with her. She made her way to the little kitchen on her first trip and paused in shock.
Every dish in the house must be dirty, she realized in dismay. Before she could unpack the food and serve a meal, she would need to clean the kitchen.
She opened the back door for light, built up the fire, put the broth and clean water on to heat, and spent half an hour washing and tidying up. As she worked, she heard children coughing and fussing in a nearby bedroom.
When she finished cleaning the kitchen, Elli poured warm broth into mugs, set them and a lighted candle on a tray, and made her way toward the crying. She found four of the Becker children in a single bedroom.
The stench of urine and feces almost overpowered her.
Dear Lord! The children are not making it out of the room, let alone out of the house to use the necessary! She struggled to swallow the gorge that rose in her throat.
When she had mastered her reaction and set her mind to ignore the filth for the time being, Elli spooned broth into the children’s mouths. They cried piteously as the broth crossed their raw throats, and she had to cajole them to take more.
The children coughed and complained of their sore throats; they were also feverish and listless. Elli returned to the kitchen and filled the mugs with tepid water. It took her a long while to get the water down their inflamed and swollen little throats.
Elli realized she had already been at the Beckers’ far longer than an hour. I will be late getting home, she conceded, and it cannot be helped. I have not even seen Maria yet. And, dear God, the children’s room!
She would have to do something about the children before she left, but, with increasing concern, she pushed that thought aside. She finally made it to the other bedroom and found Maria lying in the bed, her youngest beside her clutched in the crook of her arm.
Talbert sat in a straight-backed chair next to the bed, head bowed. Elli realized Talbert was sleeping sitting up, holding Maria’s hand.
“Maria,” Elli called softly. “Maria!”
The woman slowly opened her eyes. “Elli?” Her eyes were unfocused, glazed in fever.
“Ja, Elli,” she answered keeping her voice low. But Maria’s eyes had closed in sleep again.
Elli reached to take the baby from Maria, thinking, This babe will likely need a clean diaper.
She lifted the tiny bundle from Maria’s arm and took it into the kitchen. Once in the light, she peeled back the baby’s blanket.
The chubby little face was gray and still.
“No,” Elli moaned, her knees buckling. “Oh, no, no, no!” She held her hand to her mouth but could not stifle her sobs. “Oh, dear Lord! What am I going to do?”
She covered the baby again and laid him on a chair in the living room. She sat trembling near the still little bundle. Oh, Father God! How am I going to tell Talbert and Maria! Even as she quelled her grief, the possibility began to dawn on Elli that the Beckers were suffering from something much worse than a cold or flu.
At a faint groan from Maria, Elli jumped up. She twisted her hands in her apron for a moment. She heard Maria’s voice again, this time weakly calling, “Wasser! Bitte, Elli!”
Elli steeled herself and placed a mug of broth and one of water on the tray. She carried it into the bedroom and found Talbert flung across the other side of the bed, sleeping soundly. Elli took the chair he’d been sitting in and sat down.
“Here,” she murmured, spooning water into Maria’s mouth. “All of it, please. Alles, ja? After the water, she fed Maria the broth. Talbert did not stir.
“Meine kinder?” Maria begged. Elli could tell the woman’s mind was fogged with fever and pain, but still she was concerned for her children.
“Ja, gut,” Elli answered, not looking at her. She returned to the kitchen and put a large pot of water on the stove to brew the herb tea. The fire was nearly out, so she built it up again, using the last lump of coal in the box—and a small one at that.
I lied to Maria, Elli groaned. How will I ever be able to tell her the truth?
She pushed down her mounting anxiety and made the rounds again with honeyed tea for the children and Maria. Talbert had not moved.
Long after dark she heard an ox-drawn wagon pull into the Beckers’ yard. She knew it had to be Jan. When she had not returned by dusk, he would have become worried and come looking for her.
She stood in the doorway and spoke across the yard. “Please come no closer, Jan! Do not come closer.”
He jumped from the wagon and faced her from several yards. “What is it, Elli?” She could see the worry on his face.
“I don’t know . . . but it is bad. All of them are sick, even Talbert.” A sob escaped from her throat. “Oh, Jan! Their baby died.”
“Father in heaven!” Jan ran both of his hands through his hair, a gesture of frustration so familiar to Elli.
“Jan.” Elli swallowed hard. “I can’t take care of all of them by myself.”
“What should I do? Tell me, Elli. I will do it.”
“Fetch Fraulein Engel, I think,” Elli replied.
Fraulein Engel was the spinster sister of the farmer who raised bees, both members of the German church. As the neighborhood had no resident doctor, Adeline Engel was often called upon to nurse the sick—and she readily came. The near-fifty-year-old woman had no children of her own to care for, only her unmarried brother.
Jan looked away a moment. “Ja, I will go for her.” He glanced back and fixed her with a fierce look. “Then you must come home!”
Elli knew her husband was terrified for her.
—
JAN TOOK THE TEAM OF bays; still it was midnight before he arrived back with Fraulein Engel. She had packed a sparse bag for herself and stuffed another with remedies and notions based on what Jan had been able to tell her.
Elli was relieved to see her and, even more so, that Fraulein Engel immediately took charge. The spinster allowed Jan to help her down and carry her bags partway to the house. As they approached the door she stopped. “Danke, Herr Thoresen,” she said kindly.
She pointed Jan back to the wagon with a firmness that broached no question. Casting a look over his shoulder at Elli, Jan retreated to his wagon.
Fraulein Engel stepped inside the dimly lit house. Elli showed her the baby first. The woman clucked her tongue sadly and then, as she unwrapped the still infant, became quiet. She raised the candle and pointed to the thick rash on the baby’s chest. Elli wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Fraulein Engel lit a lamp and carried it into the first bedroom to examine the other children. When the light reached the children, they fussed and one of them cried piteously for them to take it away. Fraulein Engel handed Elli the lamp and gestured for her to keep the light over the children.
The woman wrinkled her nose at the smells in the room and then checked each child, feeling their foreheads, looking at their chests, examining their arms and legs.
While Elli held the lamp, Fraulein Engel pointed to a number of scratched and reddened bites. She lifted one of the children to sitting and scrutinized the bedding. She found and squished between her fingers several tiny black fleas.
The children showed unmistakable signs of flea bites, and their bedding and clothing were more than likely infested with them.
I should have seen! Elli chided herself, But I was more concerned with the children’s coughs and fevers.
When Fraulein Engel finished with the children, she examined Maria and Talbert. Maria moaned and asked for water. Talbert remained asleep. Fraulein Engel was quiet when she and Elli returned to the kitchen.
“Was ist?” What is it? Elli demanded.
Fraulein Engel shook her head, clearly puzzled and unsure. Finally, she muttered, “Typhus?”
Elli froze. Typhus! Here in Nebraska?
~~**~~
