Pages of Promise (30 page)

“I don’t think he looks too dangerous right now. It’ll be all right, Sheriff Steele,” Carmen assured the officer. “I will take care of him. Morgan will be back sometime this afternoon.”

“All right, ma’am.”

As soon as the men left, Carmen moved over and studied the face of the man in the bed. She put her hand on his forehead, and it seemed blistering.

Hearing him whisper something, she leaned forward and asked, “Can you hear me?”

She leaned closer still, but all she could catch was, “Need to see Mona . . .”

A noise behind her caused her to turn as Granny peered in the door. “Who’s that?” she inquired, coming over to look at the sick man.

“Sheriff Steele said his name is Stephen Stuart. He’s asking to see Mona.”

“Well, he ain’t gonna see nobody if that fever gets any worse.” Even as she spoke, a series of coughs rent the air, and the thin body seemed racked with pain.

“That sounds like pneumony either comin’ on or already got him,” Granny said. She went over, put her hand on his forehead, then shook her own head. “He’s burnin’ up.”

“I think we’d better call Dr. Cravens.”

“I reckon so, for all that’s worth, and you better call Logan Stuart, too. That’d be his kinfolk if he’s kin to Miss Mona.”

“All right. I’ll call them both.”

“I’ll sit here by him, and when you get back I’ll fix him some of my potion. That’ll probably do him more good than a doctor.”

Dr. Cravens came at once, and while he was there examining his patient, Logan entered the room, followed by Granny. “Hello, Doc,” Logan said, coming across to the bed. He bent over the still form. “Why, that’s my nephew Stephen!” he exclaimed. He turned to Carmen saying, “How’d he get here?”

“Sheriff Steele brought him. He didn’t know what else to do with him. He was asking for Mona.”

Cravens finished his examination, straightened up, and put his stethoscope back in his bag. “He needs to be in the hospital.”

“Well, I reckon we’ll have to do what you say,” Logan said. “I’ll just—”

“N–no hospital!”

The group standing around the bed were startled. Stephen’s eyes were open. Cravens said, “Don’t be a fool, man. You’re on the verge of pneumonia.”

The thin voice whispered again, “No hospital.”

Logan leaned over and said, “Now look here, Nephew, you got to listen to the doctor. He knows best.” He tried to persuade Stephen, but the answer remained the same.

Dr. Cravens was a busy man. “Well, so be it.” He looked at Logan and said, “He must be a Stuart all right. You’re all as stubborn as blue-nosed mules.”

Logan laughed but quickly grew serious. “Can I take him to my place, Doc?”

“You don’t have anybody to take care of him there, do you?”

“Well, I’m there.”

“He’s gonna take considerable nursing, Logan, if he won’t go to the hospital.” The doctor’s eyes went over to the two women, and he said, “You two had any experience nursing?”

“I’ve had aplenty,” Granny said quickly, “and I’ve got some potion that’ll do him more good than them pills of yours.”

Cravens laughed. “All right, Granny. You may have something there. Medicine won’t do a whole lot of good. I’ll leave some with you, but mostly he just needs to rest. Do what you can to keep his fever down, and with luck he may make it.”

Carmen was looking down at the prone figure and saw the glazed eyes fixed on her. “Mona,” he said, “I’ve come back.”

“I’m not Mona.”

But the sick man was in a delirium. He insisted on calling her Mona, and after Cravens left, Logan sat and watched as Stephen clung to the notion that Carmen was his sister. “Can’t understand it,” Logan muttered. “You don’t look anything like Mona. Not nothin’ at all.”

“No, I don’t!” Carmen said rather abruptly.

She left the room, and Logan asked with surprise, “What’s the matter, Granny? Did I say something wrong?”

“Course you did! Men are allus sayin’ somethin’ wrong, and you’re a man. Why don’t you git, Logan? Go out and kill three chickens, on account of we’re gonna need lots of chicken soup for this man.”

Logan grinned, got up, and said, “I can do that. You do the doctorin’, and I’ll do the chicken killin’.”

Stephen had a bad night. His fever rose, and Carmen and Granny took turns doing what they could to bring it down. It was nearly dawn when Carmen came in from checking on the children and taking a short rest. She found Granny with her old black Bible open in her lap over her faded wool dress. She was humming, and Carmen picked up the words. “There’s not a friend like the lowly Jesus, no not one, no not one.”

The old woman turned around, and her eyes were as sharp and clear as a blackbird’s, despite her age. “Did you get a little sleep, honey?”

“Yes.” Carmen came over and pulled up a cane-bottomed chair and sat down beside the older woman. “You go get some rest now.”

“Ain’t a bit tired! It’s almost daylight anyhow. No sense goin’ to bed with the sun comin’ up.” She rocked back and forth in her rocking chair, singing again in a louder voice, “There’s not a friend like the lowly Jesus, no not one, no not one.”

She studied the face of the sleeping man, and she said, “I do believe his fever’s gone down.” She watched as Carmen went and put her hand on his forehead. “Ain’t it so?”

“I believe it has, but he’s got that horrible cough. You’d think he’d be torn in two by now.”

“He’s gonna be all right, honey. The Lord done told me so.”

Carmen was accustomed to Granny’s direct words from God. At first she had laughed at the old woman, but, having been around her considerably, she saw goodness and compassion that she could not deny. She herself had only a nominal religion, but she knew that Granny’s kind was red-hot, boiling over, and ready to spill out at any time.

As if she read the young woman’s thoughts, Granny said, “You’re gonna be saved one of these days.”

“Did the Lord tell you that?” Carmen smiled.

“Well, I ain’t claimin’ I heard no voice like Moses did on the mountain—but I been prayin’ for you, child, and I believe God that you’re gonna be converted.”

“What does that mean? Converted?”

“Well, I’ll tell you how it is. I was saved when I was fourteen years old. I was out hoein’ cabbage when I got saved,” she pronounced, and her laugh was low and filled with good humor. “I jist called on Jesus, and there wasn’t nobody there to hinder me. Right down at the old home place.

“You asked about being converted,” Granny returned to Carmen’s question. “You don’t know what that means at all?”

“No. I heard it on the radio, and I’ve heard Tom talk about it, and you.”

“Well, you’ve had two children. When they come they was jist little babies not able to do nothin’ for theyselves. You had to feed ’em and take care of ’em and clothe ’em. You know what being born in the flesh means. Well, Jesus said in John chapter three,” Granny nodded emphatically, “you must be born
again
. It puzzled the fella he said it to, just like it puzzles you, feller by the name o’ Nicodemus. He said, ‘How can a man be born again?’” Carmen was leaning forward listening intently. “Jesus said you’re born once in the flesh, and you have a father and a mother on earth, but there’s something else that can happen to you, and that’s when you have a change in your heart, and something new comes into you, and it’s the Lord Jesus is who it is.”

Granny quoted Scriptures and told stories of how friends and relatives of hers were converted and how they were baptized and had gone on with God. She said gently, putting her hand on the younger woman’s, “I know this sounds turrible strange and odd to somebody who ain’t been used to hearin’ it, but all it means, child, is that when you get ready to go to God, you just call on Jesus like I did out in the cabbage patch. And then he comes into your heart.”

“How could he do that? He lived two thousand years ago.”

“Why, child, he’s alive just like you’re alive. Just like I am, and I can’t tell you how, but I know you’ve had something like it. Ain’t there times,” she said wistfully, “when that little old sweet girl of yours comes right into your heart. You know what that’s like.”

“Yes,” Carmen whispered, “I know what that’s like all right.”

“Well, that’s sort of in a way like what happens when Jesus comes in. You just know he’s there, and he said, ‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,’ and then—Lookie! I think he’s wakin’ up.”

The two women instantly turned their attention to the patient, who was stirring and, indeed, was struggling to sit up.

“Here now,” Granny said sternly. “Settle yourself down there.”

“Where–where is this place?” Stephen’s voice was thick and his eyes, though clear, were bewildered.

Carmen said, “Are you thirsty?” She helped him to sit up, and Granny poured a glass of water, which she fed to him. He almost choked on the water, still coughing a great deal.

“Where am I?” he whispered.

“Why, you’re at the Vine. You were brought here by the sheriff,” Carmen said. For a moment Stephen could not put it all together, then it all came back to him, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said huskily.

“Could you eat something?” Granny asked.

“Guess I could.”

“I’ll go get some soup,” Granny said. “I made up enough soup to heal a regiment.”

“Where did you come from?” Carmen asked the young man.

“Oklahoma City.” His voice was cracked and hoarse, and he coughed so hard that Carmen reached over and held his shoulders.

Granny came back with a bowl of chicken soup on a tray. “Here, you feed him this,” she said, putting the tray down on the table beside the bed. Then she sat and watched as Carmen spoon-fed the warm broth to the weak man. Granny asked, “You were sure hungry. When is the last time you ate?”

“Not for some time.”

“Well, a man never did know how to take keer of hisself,” she said, shaking her head in despair. “You menfolks would be in bad shape without us women.”

Stephen finished the soup, and sleep returned quickly. He simply closed his eyes and relaxed back on the pillow.

Alarmed, Carmen said, “Granny, what’s wrong with him?”

“He just reached the end of his rope. Come to plumb rock bottom, child. Seen ’em do that a lot, but he ate something, and the fever’s going away. He’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

Mona came into the room, her eyes wide with concern. She saw Stephen sitting in a rocker beside the window, and as he turned to face her, she saw that he was thin and gaunt. “Stephen!” she cried and ran over. He started to get up, but she put her arms around him and held him down. “Don’t get up,” she said. “We came as soon as Uncle Logan called.”

“Well, Sis,” Stephen said, a faint smile on his pale lips, “I’m still alive. I wasn’t sure I would be.”

Tom came in behind Mona. He grinned at the seated man. “You look like you’ve been pulled backward through a knothole, Stephen,” he said. He put his hand out and was shocked at the frail grip of the other. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m able to sit up while they change my bed,” Stephen answered laconically.

“We’ve all been worried sick about you,” Mona said. “Dad’s ready to take his belt to you. We learned you were released early, but we didn’t know where in the world you went. Why didn’t you go home? Why didn’t you call?”

“Well, like the doctor says, all of us Stuarts are stubborn as blue-nosed mules.”

Tom dragged two chairs across where he and Mona could face Stephen and said, “Sheriff Steele told Logan he found you out on the road coming from Fort Smith, afoot in a snowstorm.”

“Ran out of money, Tom. There weren’t any buses running anyway.” He smiled for the first time, saying wryly, “I know what a country mile means now. The fellow that told me that the Vine was just a few miles down the road didn’t have much sense of distance. It’s a good thing the sheriff came along. I think I’d have frozen if he hadn’t.”

“You’re fever’s all gone, Granny says,” Mona spoke up. “But you’re still weak. I can tell.”

“Weak as a kitten,” Stephen agreed cheerfully. He looked at the two of them and said, “As soon as I got out I saw
Bride
of Quietness.
Best film I ever saw.”

Mona flushed with pleasure and reached over and took the thin hand. “Any actress would have looked good in that role.”

“That’s not so,” Tom argued. “But I was pleased with it.”

Mona wanted to ask more about Stephen’s adventures, if they could be called that, but she did not think he wanted to be questioned. They sat talking until Carmen came in with a covered dish. She turned to go when she saw Tom and Mona were still there, but Tom called out, “Wait! Carmen, don’t deprive the man of his dinner.”

Stephen watched Carmen’s face flush. He had been ill but he was still quick-witted. He saw the look she gave Henderson, and he knew.
She feels something for the fellow,
he thought. Looking at his sister, he wondered if she knew it, then decided that she did.

“Sit down, Carmen, and tell us about your patient.”

“No, let me tell you about
her,”
Stephen said moving over to the table and taking the tray from her. “She’s about the best nurse a man ever had. I don’t know how many nights she sat up caring for me like I was a baby.”

“Granny did most of it,” Carmen said, embarrassed.

But Stephen was effusive in his praise, and when she left the room, he shook his head. “Sure is a fine woman. Been through some hard times, I expect, like everybody here.”

The visit went on for some time, and after Tom and Mona left, Carmen came back to get the dishes. Stephen asked, “Have you known Tom and Mona a long time?”

“I guess so.” The answer was guarded. She looked up and said, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. What kind of a man is Henderson? He’s my brother-in-law, but I don’t know anything about him.”

A light came into Carmen’s eyes. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” she said. “He helped me and my kids out when nobody else cared. He’s—” She broke off suddenly and left the room, carrying the tray, and Stephen stared after her.

She had a bad case. Too bad. She’ll have to get over that,
he thought.

It was two days later when he spoke of it again. He and Carmen were getting to know each other. He learned her story, and she learned his. He found it easier to tell her of his incarceration after he found out that her husband had been involved in crime. He listened as she told her story, and he blurted out, “I get the impression that you have feelings for Tom.”