LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy (28 page)

Startled, Linsey turned to find Kaleb in the entrance. His gaze rested on Wolf, who slept deeply.

“Told him if he didn’t lie down he’d fall down, and then he’d be a help to no one.”

“He ain’t slept none since the first young’un died three day ago.” Kaleb walked over to Spring Flower and smoothed back her hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Whatcha awantin’ me ta do, gal?”

Linsey suspected he’d had as little sleep as Wolf, but his tiredness was hidden in the folds of his face. “Kaleb, do you know anything about children?”

“Only what I learnt helpin’ my ma raise me and fourteen others.”

If she hadn’t been so worried, Linsey would have smiled. He certainly knew more than she did! “I’m concerned for Chattering Squirrel. He doesn’t seem to be sick yet, and I was wondering if we got him away from here maybe it would protect him.”

“Hit might. Ain’t no way a knowin’ lessen we gives hit a try.”

“Would you take him to the cabin and stay with him until this is over?”

Kaleb ran his hand over his face. “Ya don’t think I’d be a sight more help if’n I stayed here?”

“Oh, Kaleb.” Linsey sighed and placed her hand on his arm. “I just don’t know. Spring Flower is already so sick, and I’m worried about Morning Moon. I don’t think I could stand it if Chattering Squirrel got sick, too.”

“Hit might be too late already,” he warned softly, patting her hand. He’d been right about her; she was spunky and full of spirit. But her concern for the Indians showed how caring she was. Later, when all of this was over, Kaleb decided he’d congratulate himself on finding the perfect mate for the Bear. For now, he’d do what he could to help relieve her worry.

“We’ve got to try,” she insisted.

With a nod of understanding, Kaleb approached the strangely quiet toddler. “Come on, young’un, lets you and me go find us some trouble.”

“Trewble?”

“Yep. Bet we ken cause more trouble than a whole tribe of Iroquois.” Kaleb took the tiny hand in his own and led the docile child to the door, where he turned to Linsey. “Ya know where I’ll be if’n ya want me, gal. Don’t worry about this ‘un. I’ll keep him busy.”

“Thank you, Kaleb,” she whispered as she watched the old man and the little boy walk hand-in-hand down the long road.

Bear returned with the water, and Linsey began sponging Spring Flower. Her small body seemed to absorb the cool water when she placed a damp cloth on it. The heat quickly warmed the rags, making Linsey move constantly to replace them.

Bear checked on Morning Moon and Wolf, then silently left the lodge. He would help where he could, offering suggestions to those who asked, giving support to those who needed it.

Wolf woke after a couple of hours, his face still haggard but some of the extreme exhaustion gone from his eyes. He found his wife asleep and feverish and his young daughter critically ill. He nodded his approval when Linsey explained about Kaleb taking Chattering Squirrel away, his dark eyes thanking her for her care.

As evening drew nearer, Spring Flower’s temperature rose, her small body trembling so violently that the blankets would not stay in place. Linsey kept a fire burning, and between her efforts and the heat in the lodge, her brow grew damp from perspiration.

Her worry grew for Morning Moon when she did not waken from her sleep. She began to wonder if the birth pains had begun since Morning Moon’s flailing arms seemed to clutch at her stomach and she moaned frequently.

Placing a cool cloth over the Indian woman’s fevered brow, Linsey sighed and stretched, turning once more to the child. Spring Flower lay quietly, her breathing so shallow her chest barely moved. Replacing the rag on her forehead with a cool one, Linsey gently stroked the flushed childish cheek. She seemed to be resting easier than she had all day, her skin not so dangerously hot.

Linsey never knew how long she stood there, staring down at the peaceful face before she admitted the truth to herself.

“Oh, God, … no,” she whispered softly, hopelessly, tears slipping down the slopes of her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

As quietly as she had lived, Spring Flower’s spirit departed on its journey in search of Manitou.

“You promised me you would rest,” Bear reminded Linsey as he helped her up from the floor. He had entered the lodge and found her asleep, her head resting against the sleeping shelf.

“I know, but — “

“No buts, Linsey,” he said sternly, guiding her to an empty shelf.

“I couldn’t save Spring Flower, but I’ve got to with Morning Moon.”

“I know,
mon ange.”
He sat down beside her and smoothed the curls of flame from her damp forehead. “You’ve done so much and you’re so tired. Sleep for a short while. I’ll watch over her until you wake.”

“You’ve had less sleep than I’ve had,” she reminded him needlessly.

“I’ll sleep when you’re awake again.”

“Promise you’ll call me if —” Linsey couldn’t finish the sentence, not wanting to admit even to herself what could happen.

“I’ll call,” he whispered, pulling a blanket over her. “Morning Moon will need you in the morning. Sleep for now, my love.”

My love
…
my love.
… The words echoed through her mind as sleep quickly claimed her, wrapping her in the blessed arms of oblivion.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Linsey thought she had barely closed her eyes when she felt Bear’s hand on her shoulder gently shaking her. She was startled to discover that it was morning; she had slept through the night.

“Morning Moon?”

“The same.” His eyes searched her face. “I was beginning to worry about you. You slept so deeply you didn’t stir all night.”

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, then waited for the world to stop spinning. She watched Wolf tenderly care for his wife, his hands surprisingly gentle for a man who could be so fierce. Hoping Bear would think she was slow to waken, Linsey cautiously stood and walked across the room.

“Summer Eyes.” Wolf acknowledged her when he saw her standing beside him.

Linsey touched Morning Moon’s flushed cheek, quickly withdrawing her fingers from the burning skin. Wolf’s hand rested on the mound of his unborn child.

“The child moves,” he said quietly.

“You and Bear need to eat and get some rest,” Linsey urged. “I’ll tend Morning Moon.”

“You must eat,” Bear ordered.

As usual in the morning, even the thought of food made her stomach turn. “I will in a while.” She tried to sound firm. “Let me see if I can make her more comfortable first.”

As Linsey sponged the Indian woman, the sounds of the two men eating were almost more than she could bear. Fearing she would shortly lose the contents of her stomach, she placed a fresh cloth on the fevered brow then turned and walked to the open doorway where she stared, disbelieving, at the day.

It should have been dark and gloomy; but the sun shone brightly on her face, and the spring breeze hinted of summer. In the distance the tops of the trees were a pale green, and patches of grass dotted the ground. Most of the last snow had melted, and the first flowers of spring gave the earth vibrant color.

It was the kind of day that made a person glad to be alive. And it cruelly mocked those of the village who mourned the loss of family and friends.

Bear walked up beside her and drew her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, receiving comfort from the firm beat of his heart.

“How many?” she asked.

He did not need clarification of her question. “Twenty-three yesterday, nineteen last night, eleven already this morning.”

“Oh, sweet Lord,” she gasped, tremors running through her. “Fifty-eight people! My God, how many more before it’s over?”

“I don’t know, sweet.” His voice held a harshness of total despair. “I just don’t know.”

“The measles! A childhood disease! When was the last time you heard of a white person dying of measles?” Linsey turned to face him, wanting to put her back to the day that promised nothing but more grief.

“What have we done to these people? We’ve chased them from the land they’ve lived on for centuries; we’ve brought diseases they can’t fight against; we’ve called them savages without even trying to understand them. Is it any wonder they hate us?”

Bear’s face softened, and he teased her gently. “Is this the woman who was terrified by just the thought of Indians?”

“I was a fool,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve learned so much from them; they’ve shown me nothing but kindness. I can’t believe how ignorant I was!”

“They are not perfect, sweet. But neither are they the savage most people seem to believe. Maybe some people sleep easier at night if they think they’ve taken the lands and lives of someone they consider to be less than human. Maybe that is the only way they can justify their actions to themselves.”

They shared a quiet moment, holding each other tightly, searching for the strength that would be necessary to withstand another day, finding it in the unspoken bond of their love. With the sun warm on their faces and death all around, Linsey and Bear found a momentary peaceful solitude in each other’s arms.

Reluctantly pulling away, Linsey lightly caressed his face. “I must go back to Morning Moon.”

Bear nodded. “I’ll bring you some fresh water and then make my rounds again. I wish I could say I was doing some good, but about all I do is make myself as useful as possible.”

Bear left for the river branch, and Wolf went to check on his father, fearing the old man would not survive the day. Not one lodge in the village was free from the disease, and most had already suffered at least one death in their families.

Linsey worked diligently, sponging Morning Moon’s burning body. Remembering the experience with Bear, she asked Wolf to help her undress his wife so that she could place the cool, damp rags on her. The baby kicked frequently, causing waves of movement beneath the tightly stretched skin of her swollen abdomen, reassuring Linsey that it still lived.

Wolf left the lodge, returning whenever he could to relieve Linsey of some of the care of Morning Moon. The first time he did, she decided to go outside and get some fresh air, but the sounds of illness and grieving were so disheartening that she quickly retraced her steps to the lodge and didn’t venture farther than the door after that.

By mid-afternoon the death toll had climbed to over one hundred, including Wolf’s father, a sister-in-law and two nephews. The Indian warrior hid his grief behind a face that could have been carved of granite as he again took a turn at sponging his wife. Linsey could offer no words of solace, laying her hand on his shoulder as tears rolled down her cheeks. So far Wolf showed no signs of the illness, and Linsey prayed he would remain immune.

Most of the time, she stayed in the lodge by herself, diligent in her care of Morning Moon. No other members of the tribe visited to check on the woman’s progress — none had the time — they were too busy caring for their own ill and dying families.

“Lin Zee?”

Placing a cloth over the engorged breasts, Linsey was startled by the weak voice calling to her.

“Morning Moon?” The Indian woman had been delirious all day, muttering frequently. This was the first time she’d been conscious.

“Spring Flower?”

“She’s resting.” Linsey could not bring herself to tell her friend that her child was dead; time enough for the truth later.

“Squirrel?”

Linsey smiled into the glazed eyes. “Kaleb took him to the cabin so that he wouldn’t get sick. They were going to see how much trouble they could get into.”

“My baby?” Her hand tried to move to the mound of her child but fell short of its goal.

“Your baby moves around all the time. He’s doing fine.”

“Wolf?”

Linsey laid another cloth on her fevered brow. “Wolf is tired, worried and sad, but healthy. He should be back soon. I know he’ll be so glad you’re awake.”

Morning Moon closed her eyes, and Linsey continued the routine she’d established earlier for changing the rags, talking softly all the while. She spoke of the flowers in bloom and the leaves on the trees. She drew a slight smile from Morning Moon when she told of ordering Wolf around as if he were a cranky child badly in need of sleep. She described the sight of Kaleb and Chattering Squirrel walking hand-in-hand down the road, Squirrel’s tiny legs pumping furiously to keep up with the old man.

She didn’t speak of the ravages of the disease destroying the village or the ever climbing number of deaths or how it looked as if it would never end. And Morning Moon did not ask.

Linsey saw Wolf at the door and was relieved he’d returned before Morning Moon had gone back to sleep. She rose stiffly from the floor and walked over to him.

“She’s awake… I think,” she said in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t tell her about Spring Flower or anyone else.” She turned pleading emerald eyes to him. “She doesn’t need to know now.”

Wolf nodded agreement and moved toward his wife. Linsey watched as he knelt by her side, lightly touching her cheek. Morning Moon’s eyes opened, and in the fevered gaze, Linsey read the love she felt for her husband. His hand went to her abdomen as he spoke softly in Shawnee.