The Brides of Chance Collection (70 page)

“Halfway?” He couldn’t fathom how perceptive she was.

“I’ll brew up the elixir and make ready everything for the plasters now. Onc’t I’m done, we’ll give the girls a dose, and I’ll stay out in the stable. When I judge it time for the plasters, I’ll come in and fry ’em up for you.”

“You’re not staying in that stable!”

A sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Dan’l, lotsa places in Kentuck got grand houses full of book-learned folks a-wearin’ fine clothes. The holler ain’t like that. Your stable’s better built and likely warmer than any shack back in Salt Lick Holler. Won’t bother me none.”

“You can’t do that. You can’t sleep out there.”

She started concocting her elixir. Amusement tinged her voice. “Sleepin’ wasn’t in my plans for tonight.”

The door jiggled. “Lovejoy?”

“Miriam,” Lovejoy murmured the name just loud enough to acknowledge her presence, yet calmly so as not to disturb Daniel’s daughters. She’d wheeled around and gotten the door unlatched before Daniel made it around the girls’ bed.

“He’s sleeping, but that rattle in his chest—” Miriam’s voice broke.

Gideon followed his wife in and wore an equally anguished expression.

“Let’s have us a look-see.”

Dan stood behind Miriam and Gideon as Lovejoy pulled what looked to be an oldfashioned powder horn from her satchel. “Now you jist hold that sweet little man-child ’gainst you. I aim to loosen his swaddling clothes and have me a listen.” Lovejoy pressed the wide, open end of the horn to Caleb’s tiny back and rested her ear to the opening of the horn. She moved it about to listen a few other places then straightened up.

“Well?” Gideon rasped.

“Mullein ought to do him right fine. I got me some leaves. Makin’ the tea’s the easy part. Think you cain get him to drink it if ’n we put it in a salt shaker?”

Miriam clutched her son tightly. “We’ll do anything.”

“Gideon Chance, I’ll be askin’ you to fetch a rockin’ chair for your wife. A quilt, too, on account it’s gonna be a long night. Cain you do that?”

While Gideon went on that errand, Lovejoy found what she wanted in that satchel of hers. “Best I not fix things in the same pot. Dan’l, do you have a pot or kettle o’er in that cabin o’ yourn?”

It wasn’t long before Lovejoy had several things going on the potbelly stove. Though he’d seen women at a stove much of his life, Daniel hadn’t watched one do it to end up with the collection she arranged in tubes, vials, cups, and a pie tin. The mullein tea stayed in a cup, but Lovejoy carefully measured a few teaspoons into an emptied saltshaker. Binding a handkerchief over the opening, she said, “No race to get this down your wee man-child. Let him nuzzle it down through the cloth.”

Later, though the kids didn’t seem much better or worse, Lovejoy fried up the plasters. Daniel’s eyes burned—partly from the fumes of the onions, partly from the fact that weariness left his eyes grainy. When that treatment was finished, Lovejoy nudged his boot with her foot. “Them lasses are wantin’ your warmth and comfort, Papa. Kick off them puddle stompers and shimmy betwixt ’em. If we keep their heads raised, their breathin’ will stay eased.”

Daniel didn’t crawl beneath the blankets. With the fire going, the cabin felt like a giant oven. He lay atop the bed, and each of his daughters wiggled and squirmed until finally nestling into his side.

Lovejoy went to Miriam and held out her arms. Miriam kissed her son and handed him over. “What should we do next?”

“Drag the rocker to the far corner. I’ll plop down a crate so’s you cain put up yore feet. Time’s come for you to grab a bit of shut-eye. We cain’t have you takin’ sick.”

“I’m healthy as a horse.”

Daniel absently rubbed his thumbs down his daughters’ bumpy braids and listened to their raspy breaths while watching Lovejoy coax Miriam into wrapping up in a quilt for a rest. Daniel glanced away then looked back. By an odd twist in life, he and Gideon had ended up wedded to sisters. When Miriam arrived a little over a year ago, Dan mistook her for Hannah. Any similarity between them no longer registered. All he saw now was a frazzled, weary woman.

“Miriam.” He cleared his throat. “Go on through the hallway to my bed. You’ll sleep better there.”

She rested her head against the pressboard back of the oak rocker. “Thank you, Daniel, but knowing Lovejoy’s just a step away makes me feel Caleb will be safe. I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes if she weren’t here.”

“You prob’ly didn’t sleep none last night,” Lovejoy said as she walked the floor with Caleb over her shoulder.

“No, I didn’t.” Miriam yawned.

Hannah never lost a night’s sleep when Polly was sick. The thought stunned Daniel. His hands stilled. He’d been the one to hold their sick babe through the dark hours. But Hannah was frail. Ginny Mae let out a raspy sigh, and he tugged the blanket up closer. Unbidden, the thought slipped into his mind.
Polly was well past her first year before
Ginny was conceived. In those months, when Polly sprouted a new tooth or had the croup
,
Hannah slept while I tended our girl
.

Lovejoy nuzzled Caleb’s temple and hummed softly as she swirled her hand on his back.

She’s doing more for another woman’s baby than Hannah did for our own
. Daniel shook his head. Never once had he said or thought an uncomplimentary thing about his dearly departed wife. It was just weariness and worry.

Lovejoy eased Caleb into the cradle and approached the bed. “We need to turn the gals. Gotta move ’em so’s any water in the lungs cain’t settle. Think we could turn them with their backs to you, or will they sleep better if they just swap sides?”

In the end he sat up and slipped Polly across to his left side while Lovejoy carried Ginny Mae around to his right. While Polly started to burrow into a new place, Lovejoy coaxed Ginny Mae to have a few sips of water, then popped her into place and efficiently tugged up the blankets. Daniel’s arms curled protectively about his precious daughters, and Lovejoy nodded.

“Yore a good man, Dan’l Chance. Them girls don’t know how lucky they are to have a daddy who holds ’em close in his arms and in his heart.”

By the time morning broke, Daniel held the conviction that Lovejoy would tend his daughters with diligence and care. He’d dozed off and on, but each time he opened his eyes, Lovejoy was checking his girls, stoking the fire, cradling Caleb, or measuring out a dose of something.

Lovejoy pulled on her shawl, picked up her gunnysack, and strapped on her ridiculouslooking sheath.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“Now that the sun’s ready to rise, the wee ones will stay sounding fair to middlin’. Onc’t we hit sunset, ’twill be like last night. I’ve a few things to gather and get done. I shouldn’t be long a-tall.”

I’ll come along. I don’t want you getting lost…
. Daniel’s words echoed in Lovejoy’s mind as she let herself into the main house where Gideon and Miriam lived. From the time she’d been here before, Lovejoy knew everyone ate as one big family in this kitchen. She set coffee to boiling, started a broth, and searched in vain for grits.

“Mrs. Spencer? How’s my son?”

She turned. “He’s holdin’ his own, Gideon Chance—which is more than I cain say for myself. Where do y’all hide the grits?”

He chuckled. “No one can stand them. One of us can see to making oatmeal. Don’t trouble yourself.”

“Them gals ain’t lifting a hand to do work for a few days till we get them straightened out. Your Miriam’s sleepin’ like the babe in her arms after a rough night. Fact is, she’s comin’ down with the sniffles, and I don’t want her sharin’ them with anyone. Alisa needs to rest, and it’s been a coon’s age since I seed me a gal half as green ’round the gills as Delilah.”

“I didn’t think the women ought to. The Chance men survived on their own cooking for a couple of years.”

She located the oatmeal, started it, and put beans on to soak for a meal later on. “I’m fixin’ to go gather me more yarbs. You shore you cain keep watch on the breakfast?”

“We’ll manage the food—I just don’t want you going out there alone. We’ve got snakes and poison oak.”

“You Chances mollycoddle women. That strappin’ brother of yourn already fussed over my plan to go gathering.” She laughed and touched her sheath. “I got me my knife. I’ll watch where I walk, and if ’n a snake takes a mind to say howdy, he’ll make a fine lunch.”

Gideon gave her a stunned look.

“Oh, now don’t you be a-tellin’ me yore truly afeered of pizzen oak. Onliest things I touch or harvest are things I ken. Them nasty leaves o’ three…well, I leave them be!”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Miriam learned that lesson the hard way. Just promise me you’ll stay to the path and in sight of the homestead.”

“Fair’s fair.” She nodded and left. Walking along the edge of the yard, she took note of a few places where she could show Miriam to gather a few essentials, but a spot of land by the vegetable garden had her aching to plant an herb garden.

’Mornin’, Lord. I’m givin’ Ye my thanks for them young’uns makin’ it through the night
.
I could pert near feel the angels stirrin’ the water on the stove, jist like they did in them healin’
pools in that Bethesda place in the Bible…
.

Hands busy collecting yarbs, she carried on her morning prayer time. Granny Hendricks back home taught her that praying whilst she gathered carried a special blessing—that a healer who listened and spoke to the Almighty would hear His voice, follow His leading, and pick the essentials for whatever ailments and accidents lay ahead.

She’d told Daniel it wouldn’t take long, but the bounty of this landscape exceeded her wildest imaginings. It took no time whatsoever to fill her gunnysack. Since Daniel gave her permission to use that loft, she might as well lay by a good stock of yarbs. “Lord, I’m thinkin’ on bethroot. Ain’t seen me none hereabouts. What with two gals a-carryin’ babes, I’d shore like to lay in a supply.”

“I talk to myself, too.”

Lovejoy let out a surprised yelp as she spun around. “Bryce Chance, I swan, you ’bout skeered the liver outta me!”

“Sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I aim to take that sorrel back to the MacPhersons’ ’less you say otherwise.”

“Now that’s kind as cain be. I’m shore Obie has need of her.”

Bryce took the gunnysack from her. “Dan said not to let you go far afield.”

Lovejoy tried not to gape. “Dan’l sent you to hover over me like a guardian angel out here?”

“He said a stiff wind could blow you straight to Texas.” He frowned as he looked at the bag in his hand. “This is too heavy for a dab of a woman.”

“Your big brother worries too much.” Though she said the words, something deep inside warmed at the thought that Daniel didn’t just pay lip service to her safety—he’d needed to stay with his daughters, but he’d made sure his brother shadowed her.

“Can’t blame Dan. Mama and Hannah are both buried yonder. We’re all antsy ’bout womenfolk.”

“Hannah was his wife?”

Bryce nodded curtly.

“I’m sorry. Did she pass on recently?”

“Nah. Little over two years past—right after Ginny Mae was born. Best you not talk of her. Dan’s been half-crazy with grief.”

They walked back to the barnyard in silence, and Bryce handed her the gathering sack at the pump, then headed toward the stable. Lovejoy paused at the pump, washed her hands free of the sap and dirt, and rinsed the blade of her knife. Stretching and looking about, she let out a sigh and whispered, “Dear Lord in heaven, look down on me. I’m a-needin’ strength and wisdom. Plenty needs doin’ ’round here, and my mind’s whirlin’ round foolish thoughts.”

The foolish thoughts didn’t go away. As the day progressed, Lovejoy reminded herself that she didn’t ever want to marry again—not even if someone as stalwart as Daniel Chance asked. Besides, he wasn’t asking, and folks back home relied on her. They needed a healer in Salt Lick Holler.

Chapter 10

R
ed flannel?” Daniel echoed Lovejoy’s request as soon as he took a gulp of oatmeal. Someone hadn’t tended the pot, and the cereal tasted scorched. It was the first time since Miriam had come that one of the brothers had made breakfast. Daniel hoped it was the last.

Logan made a face and dumped sugar in his bowl; Titus opted for drowning his in milk and salt. Paul plopped a blob of butter in his, but it was all in vain. No amount of doctoring would fix their breakfast.

Lovejoy took a bite and bobbed her head. “Yes, yes. Red flannel. Gideon, thankee for makin’ the meal. It makes me warm clear through.”

“Glad you like it.” Gideon smiled, but Dan figured he had reason—he’d gotten a fair night’s sleep.

Alisa suppressed a shudder and washed down the only bite she’d tried with some ginger tea. “I have some white flannel. You’re welcome to it.”

“That’s powerful nice of you to offer, ’specially seein’ as how you need that flannel to stitch baby gowns, but I’ll turn it away.” Lovejoy rose. A moment later she returned with a little bowl filled with berries and a cup of cream, which she set down in front of Alisa, effectively nudging away the oatmeal. She patted Alisa’s arm. “Not often I’m picky, but this is one of them times. I’m wantin’ red.”