Love's abiding joy (Love Comes Softly #4) (15 page)

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cuddled closely against his father, his pudgy hands around his neck and his fingers intertwined in the heaviness of Willie's hair. He liked to be held. He liked to be loved. As far as Josiah was concerned, the world had no sorrows.

At length, Willie held the little boy away and looked at him. "Are ya hungry?" he asked.

"Yah. Where Mama?"

"Mama is restin'. She's very tired."

"Mama sleepin'?"

"Right. Do you want to go see Wong an' have him git ya some milk an' bread?"

"Yah!" exclaimed Josiah in glee. He always enjoyed a trip to see Wong.

Willie carried him to the kitchen. Wong looked up from the table where he and Nathan were cutting doughnuts. "Aha," said Wong, "small boy is wake now."

"Awake an' hungry, Wong. Ya think ya might have some- thin' fer him?"

Wong smiled. He enjoyed the children.

"Yes, yes. Wong find."

Nathan called to Josiah. "Hi, Joey. Ya all done with yer sleep? See what big brother is doin'. Look! I'm helpin' Wong make doughnuts. We're gonna have 'em fer supper."

"Maybe. Maybe not," said Wong. "Too slow. Maybe tomorrow."

"I'll hurry," said Nathan and began to slap down the cutter in rapid succession, making queer-shaped doughnuts with chopped-out sides as one cut overlaid another.

"Slow. Slow," called Wong. "We have some for supper. You make slow."

Nathan slowed down. Willie squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I can hardly wait," he said. "Those shore look like good doughnuts." Then he turned to Wong.

"Speakin' of supper, ya wanna jest feed the boys? The women are both havin' a sleep, an' I plan to let 'em sleep as long as they can. The boys can play outside fer a while an' then they can eat. I'll jest have a bowl of soup or some stew in the bedroom."

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Wong nodded.

Willie returned to the bedroom and took his place beside Clark. There was no change.

The hours crawled by slowly. Cookie came in and stayed with Clark while Willie washed his sons and readied them for bed. He spent extra time with them, holding them and reading to them, and then he tucked them in and remained in their room until they had both dropped off to sleep.

When he returned to the sickroom, he was surprised to hear Clark groaning. Cookie was bending over him, trying to restrain him from movement.

"He's comin' out of it," said Cookie. "Don't be surprised iffen there is some screamin'."

Clark moaned again and fought against his extreme pain. He was not aware enough to realize yet where the pain was coming from.

"Don't know how he's gonna stand it when he wakes up a bit more," Cookie muttered, and Willie had the impression that Cookie knew firsthand what he was talking about.

Willie feared what Clark's cries might do to his sleeping household.

"Isn't there anythin'--?"

"Ya watch 'im," said Cookie. "I'm gonna find Scottie."

Cookie hobbled out, and Scottie soon came noiselessly into the room, breathless from running. Willie watched as he pulled out a small package from his pocket to open it. Willie did not see the contents of the package, nor did he ask any questions; but Scottie seemed to feel that some information was in order.

"A little morphine. Cookie's. He needs it now an' then fer the pain thet still bothers 'im. Makes me keep it so thet he won't be tempted to take it oftener than he should."

Willie nodded.

Clark was thrashing and moaning, his brow covered with perspiration; his hands clutched at the bedclothes as if to tear away the pain. Scottie leaned over him and spooned the drug into his mouth. It was awhile before it took effect, and the men guarded and soothed Clark as they waited for the medicine to

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work. At last Clark became quieter and eventually fell into a deep sleep. Willie was thankful for the respite; but what would they do when Cookie's small supply of morphine ran out?

It was almost morning before Clark woke again. Willie had been dozing in the chair and was awakened by Clark's moaning. Clark's eyes were open when Willie looked up at him; and, though the pain would have been considerable, Clark was rational.

He looked at Willie and, for the first time in three days, seemed to be aware of his situation.

Willie was relieved to realize that Clark was alert. At least his mind had not been affected.

"How ya doin'?" asked Willie softly and lifted some water to Clark's lips.

Clark sipped very little and then turned his head. A groan escaped him.

"Pain," was all he said. "Pain."

"Where does it hurt the most?" persisted Willie. He had to know the extent of the head injury.

"Leg," said Clark.

Willie felt a measure of relief pass through him. "How's yer head?"

"Hazy . . . little ache . . . all right."

"Good."

Clark rolled his head back and forth, the moans escaping from his throat.

"Where's Marty?" he finally asked.

"I made her go sleep fer a while."

This satisfied Clark. He lay clenching his jaw to keep the screams from coming. Willie knew that he needed more medication and moved the lamp to the window, their prearranged signal.

"How long?" Clark gasped out.

"You've been here fer three nights. It happened the afternoon of the day before."

"The old mine . . . I remember."

It was a good sign. Willie breathed a thankful prayer.

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"How are the boys?"

"Haven't heard much since we brought you out," said Willie and let it go at that.

"Did ya get Abe out?"

"His pa did."

"Good."

Clark tried to fight away the pain so that he could sleep again, but it didn't work. Scottie was soon there, and Clark took the medication without protest. This time he did not sleep as soundly. He dozed off and on. The pain was still with him, but he was able to bear it.

"Didn't give 'im as much," Scottie whispered to Willie. "We gotta ration this here stuff out."

Willie nodded.

The light from the dawn was gently coloring the morning sky. Clark slept, then spoke and slept again. Willie knew that Marty was anxious for a word with her husband. Perhaps she had slept enough and needed to be called.

"Scottie, can ya stay a few minutes with 'im? I should wake Mrs. Davis. She'll want to see 'im." Scottie nodded. Willie woke Marty gently.

"He's awake now. Not too much awake, but he's able to talk some."

Marty threw back the quilt that covered her fully clothed body and bounded from the bed.

Willie attempted to slow her down. He took her arm. "He's in awful pain, Ma. It ain't easy to see 'im like thet." Marty nodded dumbly, but her step did not slow.

When they reached Clark's room, Scottie stepped outside; and Marty threw herself at Clark's bedside and began to weep against him.

He reached out a trembling hand and soothed her hair. He let her cry. He knew her well enough to know that she needed that. When her tears were spent, he spoke to her.

"I'm all right. Don't fret yerself."

"Shore," she smiled, blinking away tears. "Shore ya are." "My leg's not too good, though. Ya knowin' thet?"

"I know." The way Marty said it made Willie aware that

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she truly did know. Marty must have been the one who had changed the bandages. Once again, Willie felt a surge of respect for the strength of this woman.

Clark ran a feeble hand through Marty's tangled hair. "Yer not lookin' yer best, Mrs. Davis," Clark teased her. "Thet's funny," said Marty, smiling through tears, "ya

ain't never looked better."

Willie left them.

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Chapter Sixteen

More Struggles

Scottie was there to portion out small amounts of the morphine as Clark needed it. Clark really could have used far more painkiller than he was allowed, but once their supply was gone there would be no more.

Clark was able to talk with his visitors. Nathan even was allowed a short visit with his grandpa. He was awed to see his strong grandfather lying pale and still on the bed; but when Clark teased him and rumpled his hair, Nathan felt reassured. Marty and Missie both spent their time trying to think of something they could do to ease Clark's pain or restore his body. Missie fussed in the kitchen over special dishes that she hoped would tempt her father's appetite. He tried to eat to please her, but it was difficult for him to swallow the food with the dreadful pain always present throughout his whole body.

Word came from town concerning the boys who had been involved in the disaster. Andy seemed to be recovering. His broken ankle had not been crushed, and his parents felt that it would heal with time. They were deeply grateful to Clark for his courageous rescue.

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Funeral services were held for Abe. Marty hardly knew how to tell Clark, but she felt that he deserved to know. She approached the subject cautiously.

"They say thet Andy's leg should be healin'."

"Thet's good," said Clark. "The way thet timber had 'im pinned, I was a-feared thet it might be bad broke."

"The other boy--Casey--he's fine. Jest some scrapes an' scratches an' his deep inner hurts, I guess. The third boy, Abe, was his younger brother."

"He told me."

"Abe didn't make it, Clark."

"I know." Clark spoke very quietly.

"Ya know?"

"He was already dead when I first found him."

Marty was surprised and, for a moment, angry. "Ya
knew
he was dead when ya risked everythin' to go back on in there an'--"

Clark hushed her. "If it had been our boy, would ya have wanted him out?"

Marty was silent. Yes, if it had been her boy, she would have wanted to hold him one more time.

Marty was relieved at the clearness of Clark's mind. She was so glad that the head injury had not caused permanent damage, but she could not shut from her mind the picture of Clark's leg and the condition it was in. Each time she entered the sickroom, the stench of the injured leg met her with increasing force. The leg was in bad shape; it might even claim Clark's life. Marty fought that thought with all of her being. They needed medicine. They needed a doctor. At times, she was tempted to demand that Willie hurry them to the train so they might head for home. In more rational moments, Marty knew the length of the trip and the weakened condition of Clark would certainly snuff out his life.

And then Clark began to flush with fever. His eyes took on a glassy look, and his skin was hot and dry.
It's the poison,
admitted Marty.
It's the poison from the wound.

Marty could hardly bear this new dilemma. He had been

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doing well. He had been gaining back a little strength. He had even been able to talk. And now this. They had no way to fight this.
Oh, dear God, what can we do?

At first, they did not talk about Clark's condition; for to talk about it would be to admit it, and also to admit that they were defeated, for they had nothing with which to fight the dreaded killer.

At last Marty knew they could no longer try to pretend that the problem was not there.

"Bring me a pan of hot water," she said to Missie. "An' boil a good, sharp pair of yer best scissors. We've gotta do somethin"bout yer father's leg."

Then Marty went to find Scottie. Willie and Scottie had thought the drug ministrations to Clark had been unnoticed by Marty, so Scottie was caught off guard when Marty walked up to where he was working on the cinch of a saddle and calmly announced, "Scottie, I don't know how much medicine thet ya still have left, but Clark needs a good-sized dose now. I've got to clean up thet leg the best thet I can or it's gonna kill 'im. The poison from thet gangrene is goin' all through his system an' we don't have much time."

Scottie looked at the small figure before him. She was nobody's fool. She also had more inner strength than any woman he knew. In no way would he be able to stomach the cleaning up of the offensive leg.

He went for the medicine and gave Clark a large dose. Marty waited until the medicine had taken effect, then gathered together all of her limited supplies and every ounce of her courage and went to Clark's room. She threw the window wide open and lit a small piece of rag to help with the odor and then threw back the light quilt and removed the bandages. It was even worse than she had feared. Never before had Marty faced such a sight and smell. She wanted to faint, to go be sick; but she would allow herself neither. She soaked and snipped and cut away dead flesh, but even as she worked she knew that she was fighting a losing battle. She finished her difficult task, knowing that what she had done would not be enough.

Gently she covered Clark, all but the damaged leg. She left