Chapter 11

    

     Women’s intuition told Victoria that Heath’s deep slumber was the calm before the storm.

 

     When her oldest son took over for her at one o’clock Thursday morning she cautioned, “Don’t leave his side, Jarrod.  Not even for the briefest of seconds.”

 

     Victoria took up the recent habits of her sons that night and didn’t bother to change out of her clothes when she lay down on her bed.  The worries and stress of the week finally caught up with her.  Five minutes after her head hit the pillow Victoria was asleep.

 

     Two hours later the sound of running footsteps woke the woman.  She heard Jarrod’s voice as he rushed past her room.

 

     “He can’t breathe, Nick!  He’s worse than he was last night.  Much worse.”

 

     Victoria jumped to the floor.  She dashed into Heath’s room and found him sitting up in bed with his eyes wide open, frantically trying to draw in air.  He clawed at his chest and throat as though he could tear away whatever obstruction was making it impossible to breathe.

 

     At first Victoria thought Heath was fighting his brothers as they grabbed his flailing body and pulled him out of bed, but then she realized he was getting so little air that he was actually fighting to survive.

 

     Nick positioned Heath on his hands and knees, then wrapped one strong arm around his waist.  While Jarrod helped hold Heath, Nick made a fist and slammed it between the blond’s shoulder blades.  Victoria winced at the sound.  She could only imagine how much it hurt considering Nick was hitting the exact spot that was already bruised and tender from the previous night.  Nick’s fist rose and fell again and again with no positive results.  Jarrod looked up at his brother.  Victoria heard the fear in his voice when he shouted, “His lips are turning blue, Nick!”

 

     What would have been a violent beating under any other circumstances went on with Nick now yelling, “Breathe, Heath!  Dammit, you breathe!  Cough!  Do you hear me?  Cough!  I said cough!  Don’t you dare give up on me, Heath!  Cough!  Come on now, cough!”

 

     Audra ran into the room only to have Victoria shove the bottle of sulfur in her hands. 

 

     “Audra, get this ready just like Jake told us.  Layer a pan with hot coals. I’ll be right down with something we can use to cover our faces.”

 

     While the terrified Audra raced for the kitchen Victoria headed for the linen closet.  She grabbed a flannel sheet, stopped in her room and got pair of scissors from her sewing basket, then dashed down the back stairs.  Audra used metal tines to put glowing coals in a shallow pan while Victoria cut big triangles from the red and white-checkered cloth.  The woman tied one of the makeshift bandannas around her daughter’s face and the other around her own.  She handed Audra the two remaining bandannas and an empty pan.

 

     “Here, you take these things upstairs.  Tie the cloths around your brothers’ faces.”

 

     Audra hurried off to do as her mother ordered.  Victoria got a tablespoon from the cutlery drawer and poured the sulfur onto it, then sprinkled it over the hot coals.  She repeated this action three more times until the smell of burning, rotten eggs brought tears to her eyes.

 

     The woman used what was left of the flannel sheet to wrap around the hot pan.  She carried it up the stairs, rushed down the hall and entered Heath’s room.

 

     Nick was filling the air with colorful words he normally reserved for the barn while still pounding on his brother’s back. 

 

     If the situation hadn’t been so grave Victoria might have laughed.  She caught a brief glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror, then looked at her children.  They all wore the bandannas now, their faces completely covered below their eyes.  Nick wasn’t wearing a shirt, Jarrod’s shirt was open and he was minus his socks, and Audra was in her nightgown and robe. They looked like a band of misfit bank robbers.  Heath must have thought so, too, because at his first sight of his family he bucked against Nick and tried to crawl for the door.

 

     Heath’s blocked air passages didn’t allow him to get too far.  Jarrod caught him by the ankle and with Nick’s help pulled him back.  Heath fought and kicked which only made him wheeze harder.  Victoria was sure his heart would explode inside his chest if he didn’t get some air soon.

 

     “Hold him like you were before!”  The woman shouted over the mayhem.  “Get him on his hands and knees!  Put his head over this pan!”

 

     Jarrod and Nick grappled their brother back to that position.  Nick pushed Heath’s head toward the floor until his face was no more than six inches above the pan of smoldering sulfur.     

 

     It took all the two men’s combined strength to hold Heath there.  He fought like an enraged bull, but he couldn’t shake the brothers whose bodies were draped atop his, nor could he wrench his head from Nick’s firm grasp.

 

     As the first wave of sulfur hit Heath full in the face he gagged.  Victoria never thought she’d heard a more awful sound; gagging that gave way to choking whenever Heath tried to vomit.  For one, long, heart clutching moment Victoria thought they’d lost him.  Heath’s entire body went rigid and an attempted gulp for air ended in a strangled gasp.  But then it happened.  He started vomiting and couldn’t stop.  Victoria signaled for Audra to hold the empty pan under Heath’s mouth.  They caught as much of the stuff as they could before Victoria pushed the pan away so Heath would once again be breathing in the sulfur.

 

     This action was repeated five times, but Heath still couldn’t take in even the smallest gulp of air.  Victoria knew exactly what was wrong.  With Heath’s head still hanging toward the floor she shoved her right hand down his throat.  As his gag reflex kicked in again to expel the foreign object she grabbed whatever she could and pulled. Strings of thick, yellow mucus came out as Heath threw up.  Victoria didn’t think twice about doing this again.  A mother did what she had to in order to save her child’s life.

 

     The second time produced the same results.  Mucus coated Victoria’s tiny hand but she still wasn’t getting what she was looking for.  She tried again, this time shoving her hand farther back than she previously had.  When she felt the rounded plug of knotted secretions she shouted, “Hit him on the back, Nick!   Hit him on the back!  Audra, hold the sulfur as close to his nose as you can get it!”

 

     When Victoria’s hand finally appeared she brought with it the long, thick plug the disease caused to form that ultimately choked its victim to death.

 

     Heath vomited one last time, then everyone heard the gulp of air that made it down his throat.  He collapsed sideways, falling onto the floor in a tangled heap with his brothers.  Sweat ran down his face, strands of mucus along with flecks of half digested vegetables clung to his chin, his lips were still tinged blue, he was more unconscious than conscious, but he was breathing.  He was breathing, and every bedraggled Barkley in the room sent up a silent cheer. 

 

     Jarrod patted Heath’s leg as he slid out from beneath him.  “Good job, Heath. Good job.”  Nick leaned forward and rested his head in the middle of Heath’s back, right on the very spot his fist had been pounding only seconds before.  Tears of relief ran down Audra’s cheeks as she bent to wipe Heath’s mouth with a wet towel, while Victoria placed the hand that was still clean on the side of his face.  She recalled her stepson’s words from a few hours earlier when he told her he didn’t want to leave. Softly she promised,  “You’re not going anywhere, Heath Barkley.  You’re not going anywhere but right where you already are.”  

 

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     For the first time in three days Heath finally seemed to be able to draw in a deep breath.  When he coughed the congestion in his chest and throat were still evident, but at least he was no longer in danger of choking.  Despite that good news Heath’s temperature climbed along with the morning sun.  Victoria, Jarrod and Nick attended the delirious man while Audra ran back and forth once again exchanging clean towels and linens for dirty ones.

 

     Nick blotted a wet cloth over Heath’s chest.   Victoria was perched on the opposite side of the bed wiping Heath’s face and hairline down with her own wet cloth. The dark headed cowboy looked at his mother.

 

     “I thought we were past the worst of it earlier this morning when we were finally able to help him breathe.”

 

     “I thought we were, too.  It looks to me as though his fever’s trying to break, but for some reason his body’s not allowing it to reach its peak.”

 

     Nick nodded his understanding.  He knew with any illness that brought on a high fever it was common for the patient to literally sweat the fever out prior to a turning point for the good.

 

     “Maybe he’s not letting it.”

 

     Victoria and Nick glanced up at Jarrod.  The lawyer entered the room carrying a pitcher of fresh cold water.  As he filled the bowl by his mother’s elbow Nick asked, “Whatta ya’ mean, maybe he’s not letting it?”

 

     “Heath’s been doing nothing but fighting this illness since Monday night, and each one of us has continuously encouraged him to do just that.  Maybe right now he needs our permission to allow himself to let the illness rage.  Maybe he needs our permission to allow himself to be sick.”

 

     Victoria had to admit Jarrod’s words made sense.  She had no doubt the last thing Heath would ever want to do was inconvenience his family.  Victoria also knew, without Heath ever having told her, that he would never forgive himself if he thought he let her down or disappointed her in any way.

 

     Without making further comment to her sons Victoria placed a hand on the side of Heath’s face.  She turned his head until their eyes met.  Though Heath’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, Victoria looked directly into them and spoke in a stern voice that hid both her worry and fatigue.

 

     “Heath, it’s Mother.  You listen to me and you listen good.  It’s okay to quit fighting, son.  I don’t want you to resist any longer.  You let nature take its course now.  Your fever’s going to climb even higher, but that’s all right.  That’s what I want it to do. That’s what you need to let it do.”

 

     Victoria repeated her words as she continued to wipe Heath’s brow.  Within twenty minutes it was apparent the blond man’s temperature was inching upward.  Jarrod and Nick exchanged raised eyebrows.  Had their mother’s words really penetrated Heath’s subconscious, or was the perspiration beading on his lower lip and forehead a mere coincidence?    

 

     The family’s relief at this turn of events was short lived. Within minutes Heath’s fever climbed so high that he was once again lost in the dark world of people and images they couldn’t see.  He swung his fists and kicked his legs as he tried to break the hold his brothers had on his thrashing body.

 

     “No!  No!  Let me go!  You won’t do that to me again, Bentell!  I’ll kill you!  Someday I’ll kill you, you sonuvabitch!”

 

     Heath fought with out-of-control fury as he tried to slay the demons of Carterson Prison that he’d so successfully kept buried from his family all these years.  The man screamed and hollered and swore until the air turned blue.  Victoria knew her normally soft-spoken Heath would be mortified if he was ever told of the obscenities he’d let fly in front of her and Audra.  Heath kicked and twisted and withered in an attempt to free himself from the hands that pinned his shoulders to the mattress and the ones that clamped down on his ankles until it felt like they were once again encased in steel shackles.  Even with these restraints the blond man’s chest still heaved like he was running a race with a speeding train.  He bucked his torso from the bed again and again.  It was all Nick and Jarrod could do to hold onto their combative sibling.

 

     “After all he’s been through how the hell does he

still have this kinda strength?”  Nick demanded of no one in particular.

 

     Audra and Victoria tried to calm Heath down with soothing words and cold towels, but to no avail. 

 

     “We’ve gotta have some help!”  Nick shouted over his brother’s screams.  “We’ve gotta get him in the tub again or he’s gonna have a heart attack on us!”

 

     Victoria recalled Jake’s words about the heart problems diphtheria could bring on.  One look at the thrashing Heath told her Nick was correct, they had to do something and do it quick.  She turned to her daughter.

 

     “Audra, tell Silas to fill the tub with cold water, then run and get Phillip! Have him bring some men in to help your brothers with Heath!”

 

     Audra raced from the room without saying a word.  She didn’t even care that she was barefoot and still in her nightgown and robe as she dashed down the back steps.  She called instructions to Silas as she flew through the kitchen.  As soon as her feet hit the dirt of the ranch yard she was yelling Phillip’s name.

 

_________________________________________

 

 

     It was all Victoria could do to keep from crying as she tried to help Jarrod and Nick control Heath.  Tears were running down Heath’s face now as he called out one man’s name after another.  His eyes flicked back and forth as though he was taking a body count. 

 

     “Luke!”

 

“Kenny!”

 

“Dan!”

 

“Bobby!”

 

“Mike!”

 

“Tad!”

 

“Casey!”

 

     In his mind’s eye Heath could see the bodies piled up awaiting burial in the large pit behind the prison.  He was still mourning for his friends, screaming their names while trying to break his brothers’ grasps, when Phillip rushed into the room with two burly men at his heels.

 

     Victoria never thought twice about what Heath’s reaction would be if he knew she was the one who stripped his pajama pants from his body.  Nor did she care about what his reaction would be if he had been aware that his sister jogged by his side holding his hand as he was carried stark naked to the bathroom by his brothers, Phillip, and the hired men. 

 

     Silas stepped out to the hallway as the struggling Heath was plopped into the cold water.  With that feat accomplished, Audra and the hired men stepped into the hall as well.  The bathroom could only hold so many people, and for the time being Victoria, Jarrod, Nick, and Phillip seemed to have things under control.

 

     Audra assisted Jessybell in changing the sheets on Heath’s bed.  The young woman could barely hold back her tears as Heath’s incoherent cries continued to echo off the bathroom walls.  The black woman reached across the bed and took the girl’s hand. 

 

     “He’s gonna be okay, Miss Audra.  That ole’ fever has just gotta work it’s way outta him.  But once it does Mr. Heath is gonna be okay.  Jessy’s prayin’ for him right as we speak.”

 

     Audra gave the woman a soft smile as she brushed away her tears.  “I know you are, Jessy, and so am I.  Believe me, so am I.”

 

_________________________________________

 

 

     Victoria sat on the wide lip of tub by Heath’s head.  While Nick supported Heath’s neck and upper body in the water Jarrod and Phillip splashed cold water across his chest and shoulders.  Victoria filled a glass Silas had given her when she entered the bathroom, then cupped a hand against Heath’s forehead. She repeatedly poured water over the blond’s head, hoping the frigid liquid on his scalp would aid in bringing his temperature down.  When fifteen minutes passed with no significant change she looked at Nick.

 

     “Get the quinine.”

 

     “But--”

 

     Victoria could easily imagine the array of objections that were running through Nick’s head.  With only one dose of the medicine left, and not knowing if more would come, when do you make the decision to use it?

 

     “Nick, we have no choice.  Get it please.”

 

     Jarrod took over Nick’s spot by Heath’s upper body.  As Nick passed the two cowboys in the hall he tossed a terse, “I’m gonna need your help in there when I get back,” over his shoulder.

 

     Audra and Jessybell watched the man make quick work of mixing up the medicine.  When another cry from Heath punctuated Nick’s dash from the room Jessybell fell to her knees and began to pray aloud.  For a moment Audra stood transfixed, then followed suit.  The black house servant wrapped her chubby hand around Audra.  She squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head.

 

     “Oh precious Lord Jesus, we ask that you lay your healin’ hand upon our Heath.”

 

     Jessy repeated the words over and over until Audra’s voice joined hers in an open plea for Heath’s survival.

 

     Swirling colors of green, blue, gray, and red, and heads that had no bodies floated in front of Heath.  Names he thought he’d long forgotten came to his tongue as he remembered each and every man that died while he was in Carterson Prison. Somehow now he was back in Carterson and the guards were making him drink something he didn’t want, but when he tried to turn his head away four hands the size of beefsteaks held it in place.  A cup was put to Heath’s lips as his neck was forced backwards and he was commanded to drink by the loud, dark one.  He wanted to spit the vile stuff out, but the loud one must have realized that because he held Heath’s mouth closed and yelled at him to swallow.  He tried to bite the loud one next, but all he got for his efforts was a firm smack on the nose like a naughty puppy receives for chewing his master’s slippers and a stern,  “Stop it, Heath!  Don’t you dare do that again.”

 

     The loud one took control once more, and with the help of the guards got the rest of the liquid down Heath’s throat.  Heath smacked his fists in the water, moaning a heartsick, “No, no, no,” ashamed he allowed these men to once again get the better of him as they’d done so many times in the past. 

     With gallant effort Victoria hid her distress over the scene that was playing out.  She couldn’t bear the thought of Heath dying without realizing his family was with him.  She couldn’t bear the thought of this young man going to his grave with his mind trapped in Carterson Prison.

 

     As she returned to pouring water over Heath’s head she repeated a soft maternal litany.  “Shhh, Heath.  Shhh, sweetheart, you’re okay. You’re at home with Mother, Jarrod, Nick, and Audra.  You’re fine, honey.  No one’s going to hurt you.  You’re fine, Heath.  You’re fine, sweetie.  Mother’s here.  Jarrod’s here.  Nick’s here.  You’re fine, honey.  You’re fine.”

 

     The woman’s voice was back - soft and reassuring.  Heath’s fear melted away with the gentle caresses he felt on the side of his face.  Her words were jumbled and made no sense, but her tone came through loud and clear.  He had nothing to be afraid of.  She’d protect him.  She wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. He was safe. Soon Heath felt the fire within begin to burn low.  He was floating in a cool lake with the water gently lapping his chest and shoulders. There had to be a delicate waterfall above him because the refreshing liquid washed through his hair and trickled down the sides of his face.

 

     Thirty minutes later Heath’s unfocused eyes finally slid closed.  Nick could actually see his brother’s fever-stressed body dissolve into a state of complete relaxation. The blond man turned his head in Nick’s hands, gave a heavy sigh, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

 

     Heath never felt himself being lifted from the water.  Nor was he aware of Victoria and Jarrod drying him off with two large bath towels.  Nor was he aware of being wrapped in a thick quilt and carried back to his room.  Nor was he aware of his brothers dressing him in a clean pair of pajama pants.  Nor was he aware of Audra pulling the blankets up to his shoulders.  Nor was he aware of the kiss Victoria placed on his forehead as she settled him against his pillows.     

 

     But whether Heath was aware of the gentle ministrations or not didn’t matter. At least not to his family. What mattered was that God had spared Heath’s life.  As Victoria watched her son sleep all she could do was pray that God would spare the lives of all the others this dreaded disease would touch before it left Stockton.  Deep in her heart the woman knew this wasn’t to be, but she could pray.

 

     Yes, she could pray.

 

 

Chapter 12

    

     Heath slept the next twenty-two hours without waking.  That occurrence didn’t alarm or surprise Victoria, who was well-aware of how utterly exhausted he must be.  When he finally woke shortly before noon on Friday Heath was groggy and unsure of his surroundings. He acted as if he’d been heavily dosed with laudanum, or so Nick later remarked to his family.  Without saying a word Heath allowed Nick to help him use the chamber pot, then allowed Victoria to feed him half a bowl of Silas’s vegetable soup.  Within seconds of taking the last spoonful Heath promptly returned to a soundless slumber.

 

     When Friday afternoon came and the Barkleys saw no sign of Jake Sheridan they knew that spoke of how bad things were in Stockton.  They also knew that meant no shipment of quinine had arrived.  By now the count of ill ranch hands had risen to fourteen.  Despite their own exhaustion, Nick and Jarrod assisted in the bunkhouse-infirmary for most of that day.

 

     That evening at seven the Barkleys, save for Heath, gathered together around the dining room table for the first time since Sunday night.  Audra had just been sitting with her blond brother and assured her family it appeared as though Heath would sleep far into the night without waking.

 

     Given the circumstances of the epidemic the conversation around Victoria’s table was hardly what one would call lively.  Nonetheless, it was nice to share a meal again though the matriarch found herself frequently glancing at Heath’s empty chair.  Yes, Heath was by far the quietest of Tom’s children, but what he brought to the family Victoria couldn’t put into words. All she knew was that mealtime would be a little lonely until Heath was strong enough to sit amongst them once again.

 

     Dessert had barely been eaten before Jarrod stood and stretched.

 

     “Family, I apologize for making my leave at such an early hour, but I’m beyond tired.  I’m heading up for bed.  I’ll stop in and check on Heath as I pass his room.”

 

     Victoria accepted Jarrod’s kiss on her cheek.  He followed suit with Audra, then patted Nick’s shoulder as he passed.

 

     “Night, Jarrod.”

 

     Audra stood as well.  “I’m going to take a short ride on Charger before it gets dark.  I promised Heath I would.”

 

     Victoria looked up at her daughter.  To the best of her knowledge Heath hadn’t said a word to anyone during the little time he was awake today.

 

     “Did he ask you to?”

 

     “No, but I’m sure he wants me to.  You know how he spoils that horse. Charger hasn’t gotten any exercise since Monday.”

 

     Victoria smiled.  “You’re right, Heath does spoil that horse.  You go ahead then provided Nick thinks it’s okay.”

 

     “Sure, that’s fine,” Nick picked up the silver coffee pot and refilled his cup. “Heath’s got Charger so gentle a two year old could ride him.  So in that case Audra shouldn’t have any trouble handling him either.”

 

     Audra lightly cuffed the top of Nick’s head as she passed.  “Very funny, big brother.  I’ll be back before the sun sets.”

 

     Nick was just putting a second piece of cake on his plate while Victoria refilled her own coffee cup, when an unearthly scream filled the twilight.  With barely a breath drawn in-between the screams came again and again.  It was only then that Victoria could make out the words.

 

     “Billy!  Billy!  No, Billy, no!  Billy, no!  No, you can’t be dead!  Billy!  Oh my God, Billy!  No!  Noooooooooo!”

 

     Nick jumped from his chair.  He pounded through the foyer, threw open the door, and ran across the ranch yard to the infirmary.   Victoria jumped from her own chair and dashed up the stairs.  She flew into Heath’s room and closed both his windows.  She didn’t know why she also pulled the shades and drew the curtains.  Shutting the windows alone kept the heart-wrenching wailing from being heard.

 

     With trembling hands Victoria turned and faced the man lying on the bed. Heath was still sleeping soundly.  The grief of the outside world had been unable to penetrate the healing rest his body so desperately craved.

 

     Long after Jim Garver’s mournful cries for his dead brother came to an end Victoria remained by Heath’s bedside.  Though he seemed unaware of the hand she continuously stroked through his hair, that action brought her great comfort.  When Heath woke just after dawn on Saturday morning he was weak but lucid.  With both the shades and curtains pulled it took him a moment to bring Victoria’s face into focus. He saw her turn away from him and for a fleeting second was certain she brushed at tears, but he must have been wrong about that last fact because when she faced him again she was smiling.

 

     “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” 

 

     Heath was surprised at how sore his throat was; it felt as though he’d swallowed a flaming torch like he’d seen a man do one time at a carnival side show.  His voice was raspy, too, as though he’d been screaming for hours on end.

 

     “I’m okay.  Kinda confused though.  Seems like I can’t tell day from night anymore. I never had a cold knock me down like this.”

 

     Victoria fought to bite back her tears.  Since there was no light on in the room she hoped Heath wouldn’t notice the moisture that once again pooled in her eyes.  When Heath hiked himself up on one elbow and peered into her face Victoria knew that hope wasn’t to be. 

 

     “Mother, why are you crying?”

 

The woman laid a hand on the side of Heath’s face.  “I’m just so happy, sweetheart.  Just so happy that you’re feeling better.”

    

Heath seemed satisfied with that answer. At his mother’s urging he laid back against his pillows. 

 

     Victoria stood and gave her son a bright smile that belayed all she was feeling inside.  “I’ll go fix you a breakfast tray.  Any requests?” 

 

     “How about a big ole’ steak, and three eggs, and biscuits, and gravy, and--”

 

     Victoria bent and took Heath’s face in her hands.  She placed a kiss on his forehead.

 

“Oh you and your teasing.  I swear you’re worse than Nick.  If I bring you those foods for your first solid meal since Monday we’ll both be wearing them five minutes after they go down.  How about porridge, plain toast, and weak tea to start with?”

 

     Heath wrinkled his nose.  “Tea?”

     The woman laughed knowing how much both Nick and Heath hated tea. 

 

     “How about orange juice instead?”  Heath bargained.

 

     Though Victoria wasn’t sure orange juice was such a good idea either, she didn’t have the heart to turn her son down.  It was so good to hear him make any type of request for food that she was willing to give it a try.

 

     “All right, orange juice it is.  Albeit watered down orange juice, but orange juice nonetheless.”

 

     Victoria fluffed Heath’s pillows, straightened his blankets, then headed for the door.  She felt him gently snag her wrist before she could get out of his reach.  When she turned to face him he asked,  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

     “Yes, Heath, I’m fine.  Now if you want that meal I promised you’d better let go of me.”

 

     Heath gave Victoria a final smile then released her.  He settled into his pillows and closed his eyes as his mother walked out of the room.

 

     It wasn’t until Victoria was in the hallway and had the door closed that she allowed her tears to surface once more. She leaned back against the wall and bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

 

     Oh, Lord, how will we ever tell him?  How will we ever tell him that Jeb Galloway died just three hours ago, and that before this is over so many more are bound to follow?

 

     Victoria gathered the strength she’d worn like a cloak of armor for as long as she could remember.  Just as quickly as her despair came she pushed it aside.

 

     There’s no point in worrying about it today.  He’ll be confined to bed for at least two more weeks, and who knows how long it will be after that before he’s able to return to working outside amongst the men.  Heath’s not strong enough to handle the truth behind his illness right now.  Jake said no shocks or upsets.  Maybe by the time we have to tell him there’s been a diphtheria epidemic,.....well maybe by then things will have calmed down both here and in Stockton.  Oh, Lord, please.  Please.  Heath can never know.  Somehow you’ve got to make certain he never realizes he’s the one who carried it here.  Oh, Lord, please, for my son.  Please just do this one thing for the son who has already suffered so much in this life.

 

     As she silently treaded the back stairs to the kitchen Victoria feared she was clinging to false hope, but for now that’s all she had.

 

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     Despite many prayers to the contrary, the Angel of Death didn’t bypass Stockton on that Saturday morning.  Grace Whitcomb was the first to die, followed two hours later by her sister Emma.  At noon eight-year old Neil Whitcomb took his last struggling gasp for air.  As his blanket covered body was carried from the church Neil’s mother screamed while his father cried and cursed Heath Barkley.     

 

     By Monday morning five more Barkley ranch hands had passed away bringing the total to seven.  In Stockton the death toll had risen every hour from the moment Gracie died, but Jake Sheridan had stopped counting the deceased long ago.  The young doctor thought he’d feel relief when the large supply of quinine finally arrived at eight o’clock on Monday night, but as he looked across the street at the cemetery with its row after row of freshly dug graves all Jake felt was mind-numbing despair.

    

 

Chapter 13

         

     The Barkleys were just rising from the breakfast table on Tuesday morning when Doctor Sheridan’s buggy pulled in the ranch yard.  Victoria opened the door before the man had a chance to knock.  By Jake’s appearance alone the family could easily discern the devastation taking place in Stockton.  The doctor’s black suit coat had long been shed, as had his string tie.  His white shirt and dark pants were wrinkled in a way that spoke of having been slept in and his head was minus his hat.  Tufts of walnut colored hair sprung from his scalp as though he’d raked a weary hand through the thick mass many times in the past week.  The whites of his hazel eyes were streaked red, and beard stubble circled his chin and upper lip.

 

     Just like Victoria and her children could draw conclusions based on Jake’s appearance, he could draw a few of his own based on theirs.  No longer were Nick and Jarrod half dressed as they had been the last time Jake was out here, and both were minus the anxious expressions they worked so hard at hiding from their mother and sister. Unlike Jake, the beard stubble the brothers had been sporting on Wednesday was gone as well.  Gone too, were the unshed tears in Audra’s eyes and the grim lines around Mrs. Barkley’s mouth that had clearly broadcast her fear for Heath. 

 

     For the first time in five days Jake smiled.  “Just by the looks on your faces I’d venture to guess Heath is on the road to recovery.”

 

     Nick nodded his head.  “We had a heck of a rocky time with him for about ten hours on Thursday. Thought for sure we were gonna lose him before all was said and done, but he pulled through, Jake.  He pulled through.”

 

     Victoria turned to her daughter.  “Audra, while I take Jake upstairs to see Heath please ask Silas to fix him some breakfast.”

 

     “No, Mrs. Barkley, that’s not necessary.  I came out only long enough to see Heath and your hired men, drop off a case of quinine, and head back to town.”

 

     Victoria put her hands on her hips.  “Young man, when was the last time you ate a decent meal?”

     “Pardon me?”

     “A decent meal. Something other than a cold sandwich wolfed down in-between seeing patients?”

 

     “I don’t know.  Last Monday evening I suppose.”

 

     “That was over a week ago, Jacob, and you look like you’ve lost ten pounds since then.  I promise we won’t delay you.  By the time you’re done examining Heath your breakfast will be on the table.”

 

     Jarrod smiled when he saw the doctor was about to voice another protest.      “There’s no point in arguing with her, Jake.  Once Mother has decided someone needs a decent meal the discussion is over.”

 

     “Well..if you insist.  But it’ll have to be quick.”

 

     “I’ll go tell Silas right now,” Audra said.  “And I’ll offer him my help, too.  Between the two of us it won’t take long to scramble some eggs, fix some toast, and make a pot of fresh coffee.”

 

     Jake’s stomach rumbled at Audra’s words.  “I have to admit that does sound like an offer I can’t refuse.  I’ll take you up on it, Mrs. Barkley, Audra.  Thank you.”

 

     Audra scampered off to the kitchen while Victoria and the men headed up the stairs.  Victoria filled Jake in on Heath’s condition as they climbed.

 

     “Heath ate breakfast about six this morning and fell asleep again shortly thereafter.  He’s got his days and nights mixed up at this point, but overall that doesn’t matter too much because he’s averaging eighteen hours of sleep out of every twenty-four.”

 

     “That’s to be expected.  Aside from food, it’s the best thing for him to tell you the truth.”

 

     The shades were pulled in Heath’s room to keep out the morning sun.  Nick walked over and lit the bedside lamp for the doctor. 

 

     Jake’s examination didn’t last more than five minutes.  Despite the stethoscope that was placed on Heath’s chest and the fingers that curled around his wrist to take his pulse, the blond man never woke up.  Jake didn’t appear to be concerned about that, as a matter of fact he seemed to find it normal.  The doctor shut his medical bag and rose from the chair.  He extinguished the lamp, then motioned for Victoria and her sons to follow him out of the room.  When everyone was in the hallway Nick closed Heath’s door.

 

     “Well?”

     Jake smiled at Nick’s impatience. He urged the family to move a little farther down the hall so their voices wouldn’t wake Heath. 

 

     “He’s fine, Nick.  His temperature feels normal to my touch and his color is good considering all he’s been through.  He still has a lot of congestion in his chest, but that’s not out of the ordinary at this point.  Does he have a productive cough?”

     “Yes,” Victoria replied.  “It doesn’t sound tight and harsh any longer like it did last week.”

     “Good.  And how about his appetite?  Has he been eating well?”

 

     Again Victoria answered the man. “I’ve been giving him four to five small meals a day, but yes, he’s eating well.  So far I’ve limited him to soups, scrambled eggs, pudding, soft foods such as that.  I wanted to wait until you saw him before trying anything heavier.”

 

     “As long as he’s having no trouble digesting what you’ve just listed then I’d say it’s all right to gradually reintroduce him to a normal diet.   Until he’s able to be more active stay away from fried foods and heavy meals like a Barkley T-bone steak with all the trimmings, but other than that anything else is fine.”