Contract to Wed (17 page)

Jolene dismissed Alice and told her to wash and change and
sit with Melinda. Maybe her maid would take a nap in the chair beside Melinda’s
bed as she had done. She would stay with Mr. Moran, who was flailing and shouting
in the midst of a fever-induced nightmare. Jolene ran cold cloths over his
forehead and neck and spoke quietly to him, shushing him and telling him
everything would be alright. She dribbled willow bark tea down his throat only
to have Zeb vomit it back up. She had no idea if he’d kept enough down to help
break the fever or not, but she continued to cool his face and hands with cold
water. Finally, he fell into a deep, but fitful sleep, and his head was cooler
than before. Jolene sat straight on the small stool she was sitting on and
stretched the muscles of her back.

“Mrs. Shelby?” Barnaby said.

“Yes?”

“Miss Alice thinks you should come to Miss Melinda’s room
right away.”

Jolene jumped up and hurried out the door of the bunkhouse
and into the Hacienda. She was exhausted, she knew, and perhaps not even
thinking clearly to say that she would nurse Melinda herself and save her, but
that is what was going through her head. She wondered if she was using it as an
excuse to force her body to continue moving. But she was not thinking of
herself. She was thinking about Melinda and Maximillian. She washed her hands
at the sinks in the kitchen, and Maria gave her a piece of bread with butter
and jam on it. She ate it quickly as she went up the steps. Alice was outside
of Melinda’s rooms when Jolene got there.

“She was sleeping soundly and then she woke, begging for
water and burning up,” Alice said hurriedly. “I have given her some tea, but
she can’t keep it down.”

“Mr. Moran needs constant attention. The others are
beginning to recover, I think, although I believe we will lose some more of the
children and infants who are in their homes before too long. I must get to
Melinda.” Jolene pulled on the clean apron she’d carried with her and turned
back to Alice. “I know you are exhausted, Alice. But we must continue on. Get
something to eat from Maria before going to the bunkhouse. You will need your
strength.”

Alice nodded, hurried away and Jolene turned the knob on
Melinda’s bedroom door.  The room was warm from the fire in the fireplace
and dark with just the light from a small lamp turned low and the curtains
drawn against the sunshine. Jolene stared at Melinda. The difference in the
girl from just hours before was marked. Her hair was lack-luster, and her skin
was pale and translucent. Her mouth was drawn and Jolene watched the girl’s
chest rise and fall with each belabored breath. She sunk down on the side of
the bed and picked up Melinda’s hand.

“Melinda?” she whispered. “Melinda? Can you hear me?”

The girl nodded once.

“You must listen as closely as you can,” Jolene said as the
girl’s eyes fluttered. “Concentrate on my voice. You must think good thoughts
now. Of your horse Daisy and of my sister Jennifer due to arrive any day now.
You must think of you father, certainly on his way, and probably bringing you
some wonderful gift.”

Melinda reached for her hand and Jolene clasped it and bent close
to her to hear her words.

“Going to die?”

Jolene’s eyes filled with tears and she quickly kissed
Melinda’s forehead through the mask she wore. “Absolutely not. No. I will not
allow it, Melinda. Do you hear? But you are very sick, and I need you to be
strong even if you are so sick that it is hard to hear my voice any longer. You
must try though. You must listen for me. Do you promise me?”

Melinda nodded and then groaned and twisted over the edge of
her bed to vomit in a chamber pot sitting on the floor for that reason. Jolene
wiped her mouth and made her take a sip of water. She wrenched the rag out and
stroked Melinda’s face and hands even though the child was shivering visibly.

“We must break this fever. I’m going to hold you up, and I
want you to sip on this tea. It does not taste good, but it will help you.”

Melinda’s shoulders felt bony and limp as Jolene slid one
arm under her and tilted her upright. She held the tea cup to Melinda’s parched
lips and coaxed her to drink, but Melinda was slack in her arms. Jolene
dribbled small amounts of the tea into her mouth, hoping that some of it would
stay down until it got into her blood. She laid her down on her pillows and sat
down on the chair beside the bed.

Jolene dozed, her head in her hand, propped on the arm of
the chair she sat in, and had strange, frightening dreams of Maximillian
begging her for water and Melinda running to her. Just as she thought she was
awake, she would see herself sitting in the chair beside Melinda’s bed, know
she was still dreaming, and try to climb her way back to consciousness, but she
couldn’t. Images flashed in her mind of Willow Tree and Landonmore and Turner
swinging from the chandelier in her sitting room. She saw Little William
jumping and running and reached for him, but she fell, and was finally awakened
as her elbow slid from the arm of the chair.

Jolene glanced at the watch pinned to her blouse, realizing
she’d slept over an hour. She jumped up and leaned over the bed. Melinda had
kicked off her quilts and was thrashing, her head fitfully moving from side to
side. Her skin was gray in the light, and her lip had cracked and was bleeding.
Jolene heard a knock and Maria came in the room.

“Here is fresh willow bark tea, Mrs. Shelby. And cold lemon
water for you. How is she?”

“Not good, I’m afraid. Do you have time to help me change
these sheets? They are soaked in sweat.”

Jolene gulped the cold drink while Maria went for clean
linen. The two women, working from both sides of the bed, got Melinda moved on
to the clean sheets and put a fresh, dry nightgown on her. Melinda’s eyes did
not open, and she had stopped her thrashing. Jolene fluffed her pillows and
tucked the quilts tight around her. Maria was staring at Melinda.

“She looks so small,” Maria said and looked up at Jolene.
“It is more frightening when they stop fighting and fidgeting.”

Jolene nodded. “Yes. It is. It is infinitely more
frightening to see them this way instead of thrashing around as she was doing a
while ago.” She looked up at Maria. “Sometimes it means that they are slipping
away.”

“Do not cry and do not think that way. You must not, Mrs.
Shelby,” Maria said through trembling lips.

“You have seen it then, Maria. You know what I’m talking
about.”

“I do,” Maria said.

“I will be with her, Maria,” she said and looked up at the
woman. “It is a private time, but I will be with her if it happens.”

Jolene heard the door close and suddenly felt as if she was
on a precipice with one foot on solid ground and one shaking foot in mid-air
with nothing below it. She chaffed her arms and took deep bellowing breaths.
She was actively trying to calm her racing mind and heart but could not. Jolene
could not stop the panic that was surrounding her now, could not wrench herself
free to rational thought. She was anxious to the point of being immobile,
caught statue-like, staring at Melinda, knowing that she may, just may be, in
the final moments of the girl’s short life.

Chapter Seventeen

It was near dinner time, but Max
could not handle more than chewing on some dried beef. Although he mostly
stayed clear of the dramatic, he could not stop himself from imagining the very
worst - that he would arrive at the Hacienda and be faced with nothing but
ghosts, that every living being would be gone, and that he would have the task
of burying the dead and grieving. Max was not positive he could do it.  He
was not positive that he wouldn’t load his gun and put it in his mouth and end
himself if he did find that grim scene in his head was real.

He knew he was only a few miles from home when he came upon
the well-worn path from the Hacienda to Dallas. Max knew he would be home in
less than a half an hour. He rounded the corner on the butte and saw a wagon
and two horses coming at him full speed. His horse neighed and rose up on its
hind legs.

“What the hell are you doing coming around a blind curve
like this, you fool!” Max shouted as he got his mount under control.

The wagon didn’t come to a full halt, but the driver hollered
as he went by. “I told that woman I wasn’t taking her to the door. I told her!”

“What are you talking about?” Max said as the wagon drove
on.

“You’ll see soon enough!” the driver shouted over his
shoulder.

Max kneed his horse onward and saw a speck of dark blue
against the tan background of the path and the dark green of the grasses in the
distance. As he came closer, he realized it was a person, a woman, standing in
the middle of the path, holding a bag to her chest, with a trunk standing
haphazardly on its end behind her.
What a kind of a man left a woman
standing alone in the middle of the range?
He rode directly to her and she
looked around wildly as if looking for a place to hide or a direction to run.

“No need to be afraid, ma’am,” he said as he approached.
“Max Shelby’s my name, and I mean you no harm.”

The woman’s face was completely white with fear and she
spoke barely above a whisper. “Max Shelby?”

Max jumped down from the saddle and tilted his hat. “Yes,
ma’am.” The woman’s shoulders slumped and began to shake and he realized she
was sobbing. “There’s no need to be afraid.” Then he took a second look at her.
“Do I know you? You look very familiar.”

“Thank God, it is you, Mr. Shelby. I was completely
convinced that I was going to die from exposure or be murdered,” she said as
she wiped her eyes. “Jolene told me about you. I am her sister, Jennifer.”

“What happened? Why did the driver leave you?”

“I paid him all that I had left of my bill money. No one
else would take me to your home. They said the Hacienda has the influenza.”

“It does. I was in Houston and got a telegram from my
foreman but didn’t want to go into Dallas proper. I figured there would be
chaos if it is as bad there as folks were saying.”

Jennifer shuddered. “Dallas was horrible. I’ve never seen
anything to compare. People everywhere running and shoving. As soon as my maid
realized there was influenza, she disappeared. I could not find her anywhere
and imagine she boarded another train to get away.”

“There is a small cabin on my property that you may want to
go to instead of being exposed to the flu. I can take you there until I see
what is going on at the Hacienda. The cabin is fully stocked with provisions.
You would be comfortable for a few days or even more.”

“No. I cannot allow Jolene to go through this again and do
it alone.  I will take my chances.”

“Again? Your family was touched by the influenza before?”
Jennifer looked up at him sharply and was silent for a few moments as if
digesting what he’d said.

“Yes.” But she didn’t say more. Just bent down and picked up
her valise. “Which way are we going?”

Max pointed to a small rise. “Over that hill.” He hooked her
valise on his saddle and pulled himself up. He reached a hand down. “This horse
is tired, but we don’t have far to go. Give me your hand so you can ride in
front of me. We’re going to have to leave your trunk.”

Max saw the Hacienda come into view and from far away, all
looked right and normal. Except as he got closer, he saw chickens pecking in
the grasses and steers wandering around the manicured patios and lawns. It’s
what he would have done if there was no one to tend them and fill their boxes
with grain and hay and corn. He got down from his horse, helped his sister-in-law,
and looked at the door of his home.

Max was suddenly chilled, suspended and stranded, knowing
something momentous or horrible was occurring inside, but without the ability
to move his feet forward. He took a deep shuddering breath and realized there’d
been a shift in his world and in the worlds beyond. Something his conscious
being was unable to fathom, yet was completely true and real.

“Mr. Shelby?”

Max looked at the woman beside him and was momentarily at a
loss as to who she was. “Yes,” he said as he remembered everything that had
brought him home. “What is it?”

“We must go in, Mr. Shelby.”

Max took her valise and opened the front door. The air
smelled of medicines and felt still and stale. None of the drapes had been
opened, yet it was nearly four in the afternoon. He heard movement from the
hallway and saw Maria hurrying to him, crying his name.

“Mr. Shelby, oh, Mr. Shelby!” she said, wiping her face with
her apron. She wore a piece of fabric around the lower part of her face that
tied behind her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her face a mask of
worry.  She dropped to her knees in front of him. “You are here.”

Max knelt down on his haunches and pulled Maria up to face
him. He searched her eyes. “Tell me, Maria. You must tell me.”

“We have lost good people, Mr. Shelby. Your wife has saved
many of them, but she has not eaten nor slept for nearly three days now,” Maria
took a deep breath and her lip trembled. “Our Melinda. She is sick, Mr. Shelby,
and I fear the end is near,” she said in a halting whisper.

Max stood and turned to the grand staircase. He must see
her, he thought, he must touch her, and he ran taking the stairs two at a time.
Maria must be wrong! He stopped when he heard terrible screaming and shouting
from above. It was Jolene, he realized, and she was shouting at Melinda. Max
ran down the hallway and threw open the door to Melinda’s rooms. Jolene was
beside the bed, her back to the door.

“I told you Melinda, I told you,” she shouted, and gestured
wildly as she pulled the mask from her face. “That no matter how sick you were
you must listen for my voice. Do you hear me?”

Max walked to the end of the bed and saw his daughter, his
sweet girl, still and quiet, with her hands at her sides, her skin gray and
sickly. He looked at Jolene as she picked up Melinda’s hand to chaff it and
feel for a pulse.

“You are still with me, but barely, Melinda, I know you are,
I can feel your heart beating. You must try, darling, you must fight your way
to me,” Jolene said as she sobbed and kissed Melinda’s hand. “I have already
lost one child, the love of my life, dear William. He was taken from me and I
will not,” Jolene said and bent over Melinda, taking her shoulders in her
hands. “I will not lose you, too,” she shouted.

Jennifer touched Jolene’s shoulder.

“Let me see to her, Jolene. Sit. You are exhausted,”
Jennifer said.

Max dropped down in the chair beside Melinda’s bed and
stroked his daughter’s hand. Jennifer was wiping her face with a rag as she
crooned to her and told her that her mother and father were both here, and that
they loved her very much. Tears he had not realized he shed dropped off his
chin. How would he live without her?

Then he heard her whisper.

“Daddy?”

Max and Jolene jumped from their chairs and they watched as
Melinda’s eyes fluttered open. “We’re here, darling. We love you,” he said.

“Jolene?”

“I am here, Melinda,” his wife said. “I am here. I have not
left you.”

“Thirsty,” Melinda said.

Jenifer picked up his daughter’s head and held the glass to
her lips. She felt Melinda’s forehead after the girl had taken a few sips. She
looked up at Jolene and to Max. “I think her fever has broken.”

Jolene straightened, moaned, and crumbled to the floor in a
faint.

“Take care of Jolene,” Jennifer said. “I will tend Melinda.
Where is the bell pull if I need it?”

Max bent down on one knee and pulled Jolene into his arms.
He carried her to her rooms, past piles of clothing and sheets that smelled
sour and old. He saw Alice on the floor, leaning against the wall, her eyes
closed and her head tilted to one side.

“Alice,” he said softly. “Can you open the door for me? Then
you must go to bed.”

The maid woke with a start and jumped to her feet. “I am so
sorry, Mr. Shelby.”

“There will be no apologizing, Alice,” he said. “Go right
now and get in bed. Mrs. Shelby’s sister Jennifer is here, and I am home. We
will carry the burden for a while.”

Alice nodded. “You should check on Mr. Moran. He was not
well and is still in the bunkhouse.”

“Zeb?”

“He was very feverish when I came on the search of more clean
bedding.”

Alice went through the door to her room, and Max laid down
Jolene on her bed. He smoothed back her hair from her face, barely contained in
a bun at the back of her neck. He unbuttoned her blouse and roused her enough
to get her skirt undone and off. There was water in a basin on her wash stand
that looked reasonably clean, and he wet a towel and wiped her face and hands.
She was pale but breathing evenly when he pulled a soft blanket over her
shoulders. He sat down on the chair near her bed.

Max was slowly digesting the last hour. He had lost people,
he didn’t even know who yet, his home was in a shambles, and he did not know
the extent of the losses to the livestock. But his daughter lived! He wondered
if Jolene had willed Melinda back to this side of the heavens with just the
sheer force of her character, he thought, and looked at his wife, now sleeping
soundly.

And then he thought about what she had said.

I have already lost one child, the love of my life, dear
William. He was taken from me, and I will not lose you, too.

Jolene had a son, one who had apparently died, a child that
he never knew about. That knowledge explained much of why she held others at
arm’s length. Why she smiled rarely, why he had yet to see her carefree and
girlish. Max doubted he ever would. Jolene was still grieving, deeply grieving
over a child she’d lost. He had no idea how to help her, as the thought of
losing Melinda, had left him immobile and numb. What would he be doing if his
daughter had just died while he held her hands? Would he ever, ever get over
that grief?

Max wanted to be sympathetic to his wife, especially as he
now recognized the depth of her pain, but he was struggling. Why would she not
tell him this? Why when he asked her directly if all the secrets were in the
open, why would she keep from him a detail that loomed so large in her life
that she could not see her way past it? He didn’t know the answers to these
questions and felt a deep sense of loss come over him. Jolene would never, ever
return his love. She couldn’t, without betraying her grief, love another. Where
he had been hopeful to build a slow, but loving relationship with her, it was
now clear that she would never fully participate.

Max went back to Melinda’s room. He wanted to touch her and
be assured that she was, in fact, on the mend.

“How is she?” he asked Jennifer.

“I believe she will be fine. She is sleeping now, but she
said she is feeling hungry. I told her to nap, and I would see about some thin
broth for her.”

“I want to stay with her for a while,” Max said and looked
down at the bed. “But I don’t know what is going on in the rest of the house
and my right-hand man, Zebidiah Moran, is in a bad way.”

“Stay here. I will see what is to be done and about having
some broth sent here for when Melinda is awake,” Jennifer said.

“Thank you. I’m terrified to leave her for long.”

“Of course you are. My sister is lying down?”

“Yes,” Max said. He looked up then. “What happened?”

Jennifer stared at him for some time. “You didn’t know about
William?”

“No,” he said. “I had no idea.”

“This is Jolene’s story to tell, and she particularly hates
it when I interfere on her behalf. I believe she sees it as a sign of weakness
to be beholden to anyone, let alone me, as I am just part of the wallpaper to
her and Mother, rather than a living breathing member of the family.”

“Tell me anyway. Defy her and be a living breathing member
of your family. She has no right to your memories.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Jennifer said and looked up at him.
“You’d best sit down.”

* * *

Jolene sat up in bed and shouted.
She shook her head and tried to clear her muddled thoughts. It was dark out,
with stars shining, she could see. Where was Melinda? What had happened? Alice
ran into her room, pulling her robe around her.

“Mrs. Shelby!” she said. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve got to see Melinda. I haven’t been there, and it’s
been hours.”

“Melinda is fine. She made it through the worst of it. Go
back to bed, Mrs. Shelby. I know you are exhausted.”

“You must be too, Alice. I will just see with my own eyes
how she is doing and come straight back to bed,” Jolene said, and went out her
bedroom door.

Jolene opened Melinda’s door slowly. She was lying on her
side, sleeping soundly, and Jolene noticed the remnants of a tray with soup on
the floor near the door. Maximillian sat on the chair beside the bed. He was looking
at her.

“She is not feverish?”

He shook his head. “No. And I imagine that the reason she is
still on this earth is from the extraordinary care you gave her. I am, and will
always be, eternally grateful for what you have done.”