Calico Brides Page 6

  Haydn turned to the gospel of Mark, hoping Mark’s active writing style, rather like the way he wrote for the newspaper, would hold his interest. But before he could even finish the account of John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness, the Bible dropped into his lap and he fell asleep.

  Loud knocking awakened Haydn, and a familiar voice called, “Mr. Keller? Haydn?”

  Gladys. How had she made her way to his doorstep through the snow?

  Gladys held Aunt Kate’s basket on her arm. The unrelenting freeze continued even without wind-whipped snow driving icy pellets into her face. Pastor Fairfield was with her. He had rallied the men who made it to the diner to sweep through the town, stopping at every house not yet dug out from the storm. Gladys came with him as far as the Keller mansion, wanting to deliver food.

  “Just a minute.” Haydn called to them through the door. A light wind had scattered a thin blanket of snow over the porch boards she assumed Haydn had shoveled. She shivered and hoped he had convinced Mr. Keller to keep the front room warm. The doorknob rattled, and the door swung open with a welcome whoosh of warm air. “Gladys, Pastor Fairfield. Come in. What brings you out on such a cold day?”

  “We’re checking all the houses that haven’t dug out from the snow yet,” Pastor Fairfield said. “I see you started but didn’t have a chance to finish.”

  “And I brought you some soup.” Gladys pointed to the basket on her arm. She glanced into the parlor, where she could see Mr. Keller stretched out under a quilt. “Is Mr. Keller ill?”

  “Yes.” Haydn conveyed a lot of emotion with that one word. “What about the doctor? Is he available?”

  Pastor Fairfield nodded. “He was one of the men at the diner whom we recruited to go door-to-door. I’ll hunt him down and tell him he’s needed over here.” He patted the top of his hat. “I’ll move on, then. Are you able to see yourself home, Miss Polson?” He shook Haydn’s hand. “I’ll ask my wife to come by later to see if you need any additional help.”

  Gladys nodded. “I’ll go back to the diner. That’s the first place people head when they get out of the house. Aunt Kate will need my help.”

  “Come in and sit a spell, if you care to.” Haydn acted pleased to see her, as if they had parted on the best of terms. He helped her out of her coat and took her basket. “You’re an angel sent by God Himself. We were down to my biscuits and gravy for supper, and I’ll warn you, that’s not too good.”

  Gladys smiled politely. She walked closer and stood over Mr. Keller, assessing his condition. His cheeks were flushed, and his breathing was raspy.

  A quilt molded into the shape of a man filled the chair next to the sofa. Haydn drew another chair close to the sofa and held it for her.

  “How long has Mr. Keller been sick?” Gladys settled into the roomy chair. She could barely touch the floor with her toes.

  “When I got home on Sunday, the foolish man was outside chopping wood. He got very sick not long after that.”

  “And you’ve been by his side ever since?” She shook her head. “You can’t do that night and day.”

  “It hasn’t been so bad.” The droop to Haydn’s eyes suggested otherwise. “I’ve slept in snatches.”

  “And you stayed awake long enough to start clearing that path.”

  “I was trying to figure out how I could finish the path, get to the doctor, and keep an eye on Mr. Keller all at the same time.” He leaned forward and tugged the quilt over the older man’s shoulders. “I don’t know what I would have done if Pastor Fairfield hadn’t stopped by and offered to get the doctor.”

  Haydn was one special man, taking such good care of a business associate who could be as grouchy as a mama bear with cubs when roused. Gladys made a snap decision. “I’ll stay here with him. If we need extra help, I’ll ask the sewing circle. Mrs. Fairfield, too. You can’t stay in Calico forever, not with business back home to attend to.”

  Haydn fell back against his chair, disappointment stamped on his face.

  Chapter 8

  Haydn’s eyes strayed to the family Bible, which had fallen open to the page for recording family marriages. A couple of times recently, when his heart tried to cast Gladys in that role, he’d remembered what she said about Grandfather’s riches. He still didn’t know how important money was to her or what to expect if she learned about his relationship with his grandfather.

  He realized his brief silence had distressed her. “My family’s association with Mr. Keller is of long standing. They would not want me to return as long as he is ill.” He stopped short of reminding her that his business concerns weren’t any of her concern. That would be rude, when all she had done was offer to help.

  The clouds in her eyes cleared, and she smiled. “The offer to help still stands. You can’t continue to take care of him twenty-four hours a day. Let me at least help with that.” She leaned forward, brushing his grandfather’s hair back from his temples. “He has lovely, thick hair. Sleeping like that, he doesn’t look sick. Like he could jump off that sofa and stomp down the walk and join us at the diner. I know Aunt Kate would like to see him.”

  When Gladys acted as solicitous as a granddaughter might, Haydn didn’t know what to think.

  Someone knocked at the door, sparing him. He opened the door to a welcome figure carrying a black bag

  Gladys sprang to her feet. “Dr. Devereux! I’m so glad Pastor Fairfield found you.”

  The doctor knocked snow off his boots. “I would have been here sooner except I had to go back to the diner for my bag. Now, what seems to be the problem?”

  Haydn described the past few days while the doctor examined his patient. “There’s not much to do beyond what you are already doing. Medicine has made some remarkable discoveries, but we still don’t have a cure for the common cold. Let me see how bad he is.” Dr. Devereux placed his stethoscope against Grandfather’s chest.

  “Get that thing off me. It’s cold enough to freeze my skin.” Grandfather pushed away the instrument and glared at Devereux. “I don’t like doctors. All you do is say a bunch of words and charge a lot of money.”

  The doctor continued checking him. “I don’t like the sound of his lungs. If he gets too restless, you can give him some of this laudanum.” He poured a small amount into a bottle. “Only a teaspoon, and only if he really needs it.”

  “Dr. Devereux, should we use a cold compress? Or do they do more harm than good?” Gladys asked.

  “I’m not sure what the scientists say. But I figure remedies folks have used for years must have some value. Otherwise, people would stop using them. Steam, too, can help clear his sinuses.”

  Gladys nodded. Haydn would ask for an explanation about a cold compress later. “One more thing I can recommend. Mr. Keller has a strong constitution, and I expect him to get better. But in case this takes a turn for the worse, perhaps you should inform his family of his condition. I’ve heard him mention a son. Do you know whom to contact, young man?”

  Haydn stammered a bit. “Yes, I believe so.” Me. “I’ll send a letter to his son as soon as I find out if the postal service is working.” He’d do that, too. His father would want to know.

  “Good.” Dr. Devereux shifted his bag into his left hand. “Unfortunately, family business demands that I leave town as soon as possible. My daughter is expecting a difficult, um, confinement. There is an excellent physician over in Langtry. He’ll be here next week, but if you need a doctor before then, you can contact him and see if he can come.”

  The doctor must have seen the terror that Haydn felt at his words. “As I’ve said, most of the time these illnesses work themselves through the system. Mr. Keller is a strong individual, and I expect him to rebound. I’ll keep you both in my prayers.”

  Haydn asked, “How much do we owe you for the visit?”

  “I’m not going to pay that charlatan a single penny,” Grandfather rasped.

  “Don’t worry about that now. You just focus on getting him better.” The doctor disappeared through the
door.

  “I’ll go home and gather my things before I return.” Gladys stared at Haydn, as if daring him to disagree. “I’ll let my parents know where I’m going to be, and I need to get word to Aunt Kate not to expect me. I’ll set up a schedule with Mrs. Fairfield.” As she ticked off the things she would do, Haydn alternated between wanting to hug her and to shoo her away.

  By the time she came back, Haydn had started on biscuits to eat with Aunt Kate’s soup. Gladys carried a small valise with her. “Where can I leave my things?” She headed up the stairs as if she planned to stay awhile.

  “There’s a room to the left of the stairs,” he called after her. “Do you want to eat?”

  “Yes.” She peered down the stairs. “Let me finish those biscuits for you. Give me a minute.” She returned a few minutes later, her feet encased in warm slippers. “You go out there and stay with Mr. Keller while I finish up cooking.”

  Haydn wished they could linger over the table, enjoying bowls of soup and biscuits slathered in butter. But that defeated the purpose of watching over Grandfather.

  Pulling his chair away from the fire, where the warmth tempted him to slumber, Haydn opened his Bible to Mark’s gospel again. What would Jesus do if He showed up in Calico today? Would He have stilled the snowstorm that cut Grandfather off from a doctor’s help when he needed it? Would He accept an invitation to supper and heal Grandfather as long as He was in the house? Sometimes the Jesus of the Gospels seemed remote from life almost nineteen hundred years later.

  Except for someone like Gladys, who loved people the way Jesus loved them. She brought out a tray with three bowls and a platter of biscuits. “I have an apple cobbler and whipping cream for dessert. Mr. Keller might not be able to eat it, but we can enjoy it.”

  Haydn spared a thought to wonder who had canned the jars in the pantry. Aunt Kate was probably behind the food. Gladys didn’t touch her bowl; instead, she woke up Mr. Keller and fed him vegetable broth one spoonful at a time. She didn’t stop until he emptied the bowl. “I bet a glass of milk would taste good, but I wonder if it would curdle in his stomach when he’s sick like this.” She lifted his head so he could drink from a glass of water.

  Mr. Keller opened his eyes and roused enough to look around. “Minnie, is that you?” Lifting a shaky finger, he pointed it at Haydn. “Young man, you take good care of my Minnie, now.” Refusing Gladys’s offer of more water, he closed his eyes again.

  “Minnie was his wife.” Gladys’s voice shook a little. “That was sweet.” She exchanged the empty bowl for a full one.

  “Do you want me to heat that for you?” His own empty bowl made him embarrassed. He hadn’t waited on Grandfather; he hadn’t even said a silent word of grace.

  “This is fine.” She gestured with her spoon. “Feel free to get yourself some more soup, or if you’re ready, bring out the cobbler.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a second bowl of soup.” He had given Grandfather the rest of the chicken soup yesterday. For himself, he hadn’t eaten more than that bowl of charred oatmeal since then.

  “Good. Then we can eat together.”

  After they finished the meal in companionable silence, Gladys insisted she would stay up that night with Mr. Keller. “You need to get some rest yourself, before you come down with whatever he has.”

  When she volunteered to share his burden like that, it was hard not to think of her as a potential partner in more than taking care of his sick grandfather.

  On Wednesday night, Mr. Keller was restless enough to need laudanum. “I think it’s gone into his chest,” Gladys told Haydn.

  “Do we need to go get that other doctor?” Haydn asked.

  “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here.” Coughing broke up Mr. Keller’s words. That last bout of chest-racking coughs had awakened him. For the past twenty-four hours, he hadn’t been able to sleep more than half an hour at a time. “I told you. No doctors. I hauled Minnie all the way to Topeka to see a doctor, and he didn’t do her any good.”

  Gladys couldn’t combat that argument, even when Haydn looked at her so pleadingly for an answer. “You heard what Dr. Devereux said. There’s not much more the doctor could do.” Taking Mr. Keller’s hand, she made him look at her. “Mrs. Fairfield promised to ask Ma to bring over our medical book the last time she was here. It’ll have some ideas we haven’t tried yet.”

  She didn’t add that she had asked Ma to also bring the small box where she kept her savings from work. She’d intended to use it for setting up her own house when she married, but she would willingly spend every penny if it would help Mr. Keller get better. Of course he had plenty of money, but she didn’t know where he kept it. And she wouldn’t feel right if she took it without asking him, even if it was to pay for his own supplies.

  Someone knocked. “There she is now.” Gladys hurried to the door.

  Ma entered. “Mr. Johnson.” She nodded at Haydn. Walking closer, she sat by Mr. Keller. “And Mr. Keller. It’s good to see you again, although I wish it was under different circumstances.”

  “Is that Gladys your gal?”

  Ma nodded, and Mr. Keller nodded with satisfaction. “She’s a good one. I’ve told Haydn to hold on to her.” He coughed and sank back against the pillows.

  Ma handed Gladys the medical book. “I’ve marked a few remedies I’ve found work best. Go on, both of you, and look them over, while I visit with Mr. Keller.”

  Hugging the tome to her chest, Gladys walked into the kitchen, Haydn following behind. Neither one of them mentioned Mr. Keller’s continued references to a match between the two of them. Keeping her tone brisk, Gladys turned to the first marker. “Here the author’s talking about tea. Tea with honey—we’re already doing that—and lemon.” Her nose wrinkled. Lemons in February were as rare as fourteen hours of daylight. “Also peppermint is a good flavor for the tea. Maybe we can melt peppermint candy in hot tea. I wonder if that would work the same way. Maybe lemon drops, too.” They’d be easier to find than an actual lemon.

  Haydn nodded. “Those sound too simple.”

  “There’s more.” She turned to the next section that described what to feed their patient. “It does recommend chicken soup. But listen to this. It says to cook it with cayenne pepper. And even to add hot peppers with the vegetables.” She hadn’t cared for green peppers the one time she’d tried them. “I might be able to get hold of some green peppers.”

  Haydn shook his head. “Green peppers aren’t hot. It’s talking about chili peppers or something like that. I had some once when I went to Texas. They burned my mouth. Maybe it’s supposed to burn away whatever is troubling his chest.”

  “I’ll ask Ma.” Flipping to the last marker, she found the section on steam treatments and scanned the article. “It says oils can make steam more effective, eucalyptus and lavender in particular.” Now, those things Mr. Finnegan probably carried. Some women used oils to add scent to bath soap or to make perfumes.

  Gladys made a list of things to look for at the mercantile. She grabbed a pencil to figure out an estimated cost. She should have enough, although it might cut her savings in half.

  “I haven’t been able to find Mr. Keller’s money,” Haydn said. “And I didn’t bring that much with me. Will Mr. Finnegan put it on account?”

  Gladys covered the total with her hand. “You don’t have to worry about the cost. It’s something I want to do.”

  “You really mean that, don’t you?” Surprise stamped Haydn’s face as he sat back. “You’re willing to spend that much money on a man who’s done nothing but yell at you?”

  And say you should marry me. Gladys didn’t point that out. “He’s my brother in Christ. He’s someone God loved enough to die for. I figure it’s the least I can do.”

  She stomped out of the room before he could rile her even more by refusing her money.

  Chapter 9

  While Haydn waited, he heard Mrs. Polson say good-bye. He whirled on his heels and left the kitchen. Time after tim
e, Gladys tore down his defenses with a simple act or gesture. He had seen the total for the supplies the medical book recommended. He didn’t know where she could get her hands on that kind of money. Add to that all the money she lost by taking off the week to spend with Grandfather.

  It was time he accepted her for who she was: a beautiful young woman who loved the Lord and for some reason known only to her and God, loved Grandfather no matter how he acted.

  Haydn tossed his suitcase onto the bed and dug out his slim wallet. After his extended stay in Calico, he had spent most of the money he had brought with him. Paying for the last delivery of wood, a delivery Grandfather had insisted they didn’t need, had nearly wiped him out. But what he had left, he would give to Gladys. It was his grandfather who was sick. He counted out the money, not nearly enough, and went back downstairs.

  He pushed the money at Gladys. “Take this.”

  “You don’t need to do that. I told you—I want to pay for this.” She didn’t touch the money.

  “And so do I.” He held out his hand, willing her to accept the money in spite of her earlier rejection.

  “Why—so your business with Mr. Keller doesn’t suffer?” He had hurt her.

  The words hung between them. Haydn considered telling her the truth—because he’s my grandfather—but his reasons were more complex than that. “Because I love him, too. I’ve grown up thinking of him as a loveless Ebenezer Scrooge of a man. But because of you, I’ve learned to love him, too.” He pressed the money into Gladys’s palm. “Take this from me. Please. Let me have a part in getting him well.”

  Gladys chewed her lip. “When you put it like that, what can I say?” A grin replaced her worried look. “And if there’s any extra money, I’ll get more food. Some of your supplies are running low.”