The Reaper's Song (47 page)

“Mash this.” Metiz handed her a mixture of herbs and roots. “Mix with hot water. Put paste on, then bind up.”

Katy did as she was told, using the handle of the knife to mash the mixture in the tin cup she’d brought. She added a few drops of water and ground them again, adding more water until a paste formed.

She shuddered when she looked at the charred wound but smeared the paste in place. Then taking the rolled strips of cloth, she bound them over the poultice and around his chest. As she tied the final knot, she heard him mumble something. Leaning close to his mouth, she heard “water.”

Metiz handed her the canteen. She dribbled the precious clean liquid into his open mouth, just enough for him to swallow and then again.

He sighed, “Good.”

“Now, we don’t know what kind of condition that boy is in, so we just ask that all of you pray for him. And pray for Katy and Metiz, that they find him before he dies, if he is that bad wounded.” Agnes sat down again.

Everyone in church bowed their heads while Reverend Solberg led them in prayer. “Lord God, we bring Zeb MacCallister before thee. We don’t know what all has gone on, but thou dost. Keep him in thy tender care. Protect him from whatever and whoever might try to harm him. We ask that thy Holy Spirit intercede on his behalf before thy throne of grace.” At his “Amen,” all those present joined in.

At the end of the final hymn, Deborah looked up at Ingeborg. “I asked God to bring my new pa back to me. Manda says it don’t do no good to ask God, but my ma said God answers the prayers of his children, and I’m one of his children, right?”

“Right.” Ingeborg glanced over at Manda who sat with her arms clamped across her skinny chest and her chin squared so you could feel her snarl.

“Manda is too, huh?”

“Ja, she is.”

“Even though she’s mad at God?”

“Even then.”

Deborah sighed. “That’s good.”

“Ah, child, yes, that is good. We are all His children.”

“Grown-ups too?”

“Grown-ups too.”

Deborah settled against Ingeborg’s side, reaching over to tickle Astrid under the chin. Astrid giggled and tried to tickle Deborah back until Ingeborg hushed them both.

After the service, Anner and Hildegunn stopped beside Ingeborg. “I want you to know we are praying for them,” Anner told her. “Sorry his secret caught up to him, but if he makes it through this . . .” Anner choked up and cleared his throat. “Well, he’s a fine young man, and I wish him and Katy the very best.” He turned a bit to look at Hildegunn. “We know the power of prayer, don’t we? Especially of those around here. I’m living proof of how God answers prayer.”

“You and all the rest of us.” Ingeborg shook his left hand. “Thank you, Anner. Come children, Bridget, Haakan is waiting with the wagon.”

When they were all aboard and driving down the road, Haakan turned to Ingeborg. “Think I’ll take the wagon and head north. I get the feeling that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Then that is what you should do. Let’s pad it with hay and quilts
in case he is too sick to ride his horse. We can pack food and things while you get it ready.”

“Pa, can I go?” Thorliff asked.

Haakan shook his head. “Someone needs to be home to do chores. With Hamre over to Zeb’s, and Baptiste off with Katy . . .” He left it for Thorliff to figure out for himself.

Thorliff sighed and sat back down. “All right.”

“Maybe you and Manda could go fishing this afternoon. A mess of perch would taste mighty good for supper.” Ingeborg turned to look over her shoulder.

“You better catch a lot,” Bridget added. “They just might all be back in time for supper.”

“What is that you are making?” Katy looked at the willow branches lashed between two long poles.

“A travois.” Baptiste looked up from his lashing. “We will tie these ends to your saddle and lay Zeb here.” He indicated the web of willow. “Much easier on him than trying to ride.”

“You think he is ready to be moved?”

“Better now while he sleeping. It will hurt much.” Metiz poured water from the kettle on the dying fire. “Be good to get home.”

Zeb groaned but still didn’t waken more than enough to drink when Katy dribbled liquid into his mouth. She and Metiz had taken turns all night changing the water-soaked cloths to try to cool the raging fever. Willow-bark tea didn’t help much either.

They lifted him with the blanket and laid him in the travois. While he groaned and thrashed some, he didn’t wake even with that. Metiz mounted her horse.

“I ride behind. Baptiste go ahead.”

With the sticks bouncing in every rut, Katy searched out the flattest and shadiest way, guiding her horse carefully. When she heard Zeb shouting, she stopped and looked back at him.

Metiz waved her on. “He not know what he say.”

He’s delirious, and here I am dragging him halfway across Dakota Territory on one of the hottest days of the year. Father God, only you can save him. Please cushion him and bring healing to his body. Father, I love him so, and I know you love him more.

They met Haakan just north of the ford on the Park River.

“Ah, thank you. I didn’t know how we were going to get him
across.” Katy dismounted and laid a hand on Zeb’s forehead. Just like laying her hand on a hot stove. She bent down to listen to his mumblings, but they made no sense whatsoever.

“How long’s he been like this?”

“Since we found him last night. He’d gotten off his horse and not made it back on.”

“Leastways he didn’t fall off. Could have broken some bones that way.” Haakan nodded toward Baptiste. “Let’s get him in the wagon. He should be more comfortable there.”

When they started out again, Katy sat in the wagon pillowing Zeb’s head in her lap and changing the cloths as they dried. She tried to block out Zeb’s ramblings, but when he shouted, “No, I’m not going!” she wondered what evils tormented him. Several times she ducked when he flailed an arm around, but weak as he was, even that wouldn’t bruise her too badly.

Darkness had firmly settled over the land when they drove into the Bjorklund yard. But Haakan kept right on going.

“Let’s take him to the icehouse,” Haakan said. “Between that and Metiz’ medicinals, we’ll just see if we can’t keep this boy alive. And when we done all we can, we know God can finish the job.”

Once there, Haakan hung the lantern on a peg and shoveled sawdust back off the blocks of ice. Then laying down hay first, blankets second, they carried Zeb to the new bed and laid him on it. Kneeling beside him, Katy could feel the coolness through the padding and her skirt.

Haakan chipped some ice off and brought her the slivers. “Put these on his tongue, a little bit at a time so he don’t choke.” He touched her shoulder. “And, Katy girl, know that everyone around here is praying for him. And you.”

They changed the poultice some time later when Ingeborg brought the supplies, and already Katy could feel that Zeb’s temperature was dropping. He lay quiet now, his breathing barely stirring his shirt front.

“Is he dying?” Katy finally found the courage to ask Metiz.

“No. Resting. You sleep; I watch.”

“No, I’ll be all right.” Katy sat beside the pallet, feeling the cold up through her clothes. She took Zeb’s hand in hers and stroked the dark hair covering the back of it. Such a fine hand he had, long fingers that calmed a horse and stroked her hair, both with gentleness and filled with love.

She laid her cheek against the back of his hand. Oh, to feel it
move over her skin again.
Father, please.

She jerked awake. What had she heard? The rooster crowing?

“Katy?”

“Zeb, you’re awake.” She swallowed the tears that clogged her throat and burned her eyes. “Glory be to God, you’re awake.”

“Are you trying to freeze me to death, or did you think I was already dead and you were keeping the body from stinking?”

She could only hear him by bending close. “Zebulun MacCallister, if that don’t beat all.” She kissed him full on the mouth. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded. “Thought I was hearing the Grim Reaper’s song during the night, but then I felt sure I heard the angels sing. Strange.” The words came slow but they came.

They both fell silent. A meadowlark greeted the dawn, its liquid notes praising the Creator.

Metiz glided in the open door. “Ha. He better.”

Zeb shivered. “Maybe we can get me off the ice now?”

The old woman nodded. “He get well now. Here, drink this.” She handed him a cup of steaming liquid.

He sniffed it. “That smells terrible.” But when Katy crossed her arms over her chest, he drank it anyway.

“Good, now we’ll move you.”

“Can we sit outside? Or maybe I’ll lie down, but I want to see the sunrise. I feared never to see one again.”

He bit back a groan when they helped him stand, and with his arm draped over Katy’s shoulders and both women holding him up, they staggered outside. Once they were settled against the icehouse wall, he let out a long, slow breath. “Now, ain’t that the grandest sight?”

Katy blinked her eyes to stem the tears. “All the colors. Can you imagine such colors?”

She looked up at her husband, who was staring down at her. “After we dragged you clear out here, you weren’t even watching the sunrise, were you?”

“No, ma’am. I was watching the greatest gift God ever gave a man this side of heaven.” He leaned his head against hers. “And I plan to keep on thanking Him for you and everything else that He’ll bring my way for the rest of my life.” He paused. “Even if it means going back home and dealing with the law and the Galloways.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“I know. Just like I knew you’d come for me. Fool that I am, I
knew that.” Silence fell for a time.

Katy thought he’d gone to sleep when he said, “You know what my name means?”

“No, what?”

“ ‘From the dwelling place.’ I been far from mine, but now I’ve come home.”

And Katy knew he meant more than just to her.

“How long till she gits here?” Manda shifted from one foot to the other.

“Soon.” Katy peered around Zeb and up the track. No sign of the train yet.

“My dress itches.”

“You’ll live.” Zeb grinned down at her.

“Well, I don’t see you wearin’ no itchy dress.” Manda poked him with her elbow.

“You be nice to our pa,” Deborah hissed.

Manda rolled her eyes. And scratched.

“Manda.” Katy laid a hand on her shoulder. Off in the distance they could hear the mournful whistle of the afternoon train. Harvest had come and gone and now Zeb’s sister was coming to visit. The train chugged and let off steam, its iron wheels shrieking against the brakes.

“Zeb!” A hand waved from the open doorway before the conductor could even put his stool down.

Zeb caught her before she could leap off the bottom step and swung her to the ground.

“My land, she’s pretty,” Manda whispered.

Zeb introduced Mary Martha to them all and hustled them over to the wagon. “We got friends waiting at the church,” he said as he threw her bags in the wagon bed. “The train was late, so they’re probably all starvin’ to death, waitin’ on the guest of honor and all.”

“Don’t pay him no nevermind,” Manda said. “He carries on like this all the time.”