Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (34 page)

Rocky swallowed down a hard lump. "Seth has to get well,
Doc."

Doc studied Rocky with particular care. "It might not hurt
to deliver up a prayer to the Almighty."

Doc's suggestion set Rocky to thinking. Lately, he'd been
giving more thought to prayer. Was Sarah right? Had God
been trying to gain his attention? Worse, was He using Seth to
get to Rocky? He couldn't bear the thought of Seth suffering
on his account.

"Thanks, Doc."

Doc Randolph gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "You
take care of yourself. I'll be back soon as I can."

Moments later, Rocky heard Doc's horses gallop off the
property.

In the days that followed, Seth's condition remained
unchanged, even though Doc had returned that same night
to administer the antitoxin. Talk was that people all over
the country, mostly children, had contracted the awful illness, leaving one child dead in a neighboring community.
Sarah could only imagine the fear in homes around Little
Hickman as news of the illness spread like wildfire. Since she
and Rocky stayed confined to their cabin, their only means
of attaining information came from tidbits they acquired
through Doc's daily visits. Last they'd heard, the Hogsworth
twins were recovering nicely, as was Gus Humphrey. Lenora
Humphrey, on the other hand, had grown more frail by the
day. Sarah had been lifting up prayers daily for the girl,
praying for her even as she held to Seth's small hand and
prayed for him.

Then there was baby Molly Broughton, so young to be so
sick, and yet Doc said her little body seemed to be fighting the
illness with a vengeance. Sarah could only pray that the rest of
the Broughtons would remain healthy, particularly Liza, pregnant with her first child.

From what she could gather, Doc was holding his own and
managing to maintain his patient load, but she feared by the
look of his haggard face today that he was pushing himself to
exhaustion.

"Do you think it's time for setting up a hospital, Doctor?"
she asked after he had finished checking Seth's heart with his
stethoscope and had tucked the instrument back into his front
pocket.

"I'm holding off as long as possible," he whispered, leading
her away from Seth's bedside. "So far, the quarantine seems to be working. There've been no new reported cases in two
days."

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good, right?"

He gave a slow nod. "I'm cautiously hopeful."

The two adults stood silent for a time, Sarah contemplative, Doc assuredly weary. "I could help you, you know. Since I
had diphtheria as a child I'd be in no danger. You're looking
mighty tired, Doc."

Doc smiled, aged wrinkle lines etching themselves around
his inky eyes. "I thank you for that, young lady, but you have
your hands full. I've learned of a couple of others who also
had the illness some years back. They've offered their services
if needed. You have enough to do what with a sick child and
a still rather slow-moving husband. How is Rocky doing since
the fire?" Clear concern swept across Doc's face.

Rocky and Sarah had been taking turns sitting with Seth,
cooling his fevered brow with damp cloths, administering
small sips of water for his parched throat, and comforting him
with quiet words. Sarah marveled at how Rocky hovered over
the listless boy, haunted no doubt by memories of having lost
his little Joseph months before. Still, the truth was he was in no
shape for sitting up with the lad hour after hour. Although his
burns were healing, he still coughed frequently, a result, Doc
said, of having inhaled a good deal of smoke and ash. Rest was
essential to prevent any onset of pneumonia.

"I convinced him to go lie down for a while," Sarah said.
"He's exhausted from looking after the boy. We take turns, but
it seems he can't relax. I'm sure he's reliving the events of the
past."

"Little Joseph, you mean."

Sarah nodded. "He doesn't talk much about his son, but
I'm certain he's afraid of losing Seth now," she whispered.
Thankfully, Seth slept soundly. Rocky had managed to feed
the boy nearly half a bowl of chicken soup, and so far, his
stomach hadn't rejected it.

Doc looked toward the bedroom where Rocky rested. "It
was a sad thing, him losing his wife and then his boy. And now,
on top of everything else, he's lost his barn. It doesn't seem
quite fair, does it?"

Sarah shook her head. "God never promised any of us
that life would be fair, but He did promise to give us necessary strength for hard times. If only my husband could believe
that."

Doc cleared his throat. Sarah had no idea where the doctor
stood with his faith, but she wasn't about to excuse her words.

"I'm sure your example of trust will rub off on him." He
glanced out the bedroom window. "How are you managing
with all the chores? You must be exhausted yourself, young
lady."

"Me? Oh goodness, I'm fine." She was so tired her nerves
throbbed, but Doc Randolph would be the last to find out.
"I've learned how to milk the cows, a feat in itself. But Rocky
has reclaimed many of the chores, even though I've told him I
can handle things."

Doc nodded, then followed the gesture with a quiet laugh.
"Your man is a stubborn one. Be patient with him."

Sarah winced at the term "your man." Aside from giving
her hand an occasional squeeze or dropping a simple touch on
her shoulder, Rocky hadn't approached her on a romantic level
since the night of the fire when he'd kissed her so tenderly, and that was over two weeks ago. She wondered what it would
take to break down the barrier that had once again risen up
between them.

"Thank you for your concern," Sarah said, deciding not to
comment on her husband's stubbornness. Best not to burden
the man further. "I certainly miss Rachel," she put in, following him when he headed for the door and removed his coat
from its hook.

"I'm convinced she's doing just fine in your in-laws' care."

"I've no doubt about that. I just don't want her getting too
comfortable over there. She belongs with us."

Doc lifted one gray brow. "I wouldn't worry there. It's plain
to see the child is completely taken with you."

Sarah's heart warmed at his kind words. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed to hear them. "And I'm quite
taken with her," she returned.

After promising to pay another visit the next day, Doc bid
her good-bye. Sarah watched him shuffle across the yard to his
wagon, favoring one leg. Lord, go with him, she prayed, pulling
back the curtain to watch him climb atop his buckboard. Give
him strength to see to the needs of these sick children. And, Lord,
would you please keep Rachel safe and bring swift healing to our
dear, sweet Seth? Also, Father, please soften my husband's heart that
he may see the purposes You have for him, and that he may know the
greatness of Your unfailing love.

The sound of Sarah's sweet voice wafting through the air
beckoned Rocky awake. He opened heavy eyes and found himself staring at his bedroom ceiling-rather, his wife's bedroom ceiling. Whether they would ever share the room remained a
mystery.

He blinked back the urge to prolong his nap and wondered at the time. It appeared dusk had already set in by the
look of the darkening sky. Sarah hummed the familiar old
hymn "Amazing Grace" as she rattled pans in the kitchen sink.
Some delicious aroma filtered through the crack under the
door, making his stomach rumble in response, summoning
him to further wakefulness.

He yanked a single quilt off his body and pulled himself
up, then ran his fingers through his mussed hair. He knew he
looked a sight. He hadn't even shaved in days because the burns
along his jawline had blistered and scabbed over, making shaving a problem. What must Sarah think of his unsightly appearance? He stood and worked the kinks out of his neck and back.

When he opened the door, Sarah's body bent, as she stirred
the fire, was the first thing he saw. She paused to pull a wispy
red curl away from her face, then set to fueling the flame with
another small log. He should be stirring the fire, he told himself,
even though watching her now was altogether more pleasant.
He took a moment to lean into the doorframe to steal a few
more glances.

She stood up and placed a hand to the small of her back,
her face to the mantelpiece where she seemed to be studying
a photograph of Hester holding Joseph in her arms. He wondered if she resented the picture. But when she removed it,
dusted it with the hem of her skirt, then carefully replaced it,
he had his answer. She was a special woman, his new wife, and
the feelings mounting deep inside him appeared to be more
than mere respect. He was falling in love with her.

Yet how to tell her, or even if, remained a question. Nothing had been easy for her since the day she came to Little
Hickman, and he wouldn't blame her a bit if she left tomorrow. With the palm of her hand, she massaged her back, and a
kind of raw cocoon of guilt wrapped around him. She'd been
working too hard since the fire and without a single complaint.
Of course, who knew what rebellious thoughts stirred in her
head? For all he knew she could be waiting for Seth's recovery
before announcing her plans to leave.

Lord, how will I live if she decides to go? Will Your strength be
enough to sustain me? Please, Lord, help me find my way back to
You; help me trust You again.

And just like that, a newfound spiritual hunger swathed
his soul.

All at once, Sarah sensed his presence and looked over at
him, her cheeks pink from hovering near the fire. "I hope I
didn't wake you."

Rocky pushed away from the doorjamb. "It was time I got
up. You shouldn't have let me sleep so long."

"You needed your rest. You've been sitting up with Seth
every night."

"How is he?"

Despite obvious fatigue, her mouth curved into an unconscious smile. "His fever broke just after Doc left today. I gave
him some more soup just an hour ago. He says his throat isn't
quite as sore, and the swelling in his neck has lessened. Isn't it
wonderful? The Lord is answering our prayers, Rocky."

"Is he sleeping now?" Rocky asked, the knot that had
been lying in the pit of his stomach for days now seeming to
unravel.

She nodded. "He's been napping off and on most of the
afternoon. I think my reading puts him to sleep."

"It's not your reading, Sarah; it's your voice. It's soft and
soothing to a body's ears." He advanced three long strides until
he came close enough to take up a loose tendril of her hair. He
tested its softness between his thumb and forefinger. If she did
walk out on him, at least he would have this memory.

He lifted her down-turned chin with a finger, and her
hazel eyes went suddenly misty. Hastily she dabbed at the corners with the hem of her apron. Was she going to cry? Perplexed, he merely stared, tongue-tied. Nothing ever prepared
him for a woman's tears. Hester had shed a few in the time
he'd known her, and he'd always felt about as helpless as a
cornered chicken.

"Got some smoke in my eyes," she muttered, avoiding his
gaze.

He looked at the fire. It spit and crackled, but there wasn't
a trace of smoke anywhere. Cupping her chin with his rough
palm, he bent slightly at the waist to see into her damp eyes.
"Smoke, huh? Might it be more worry and stress and fatigue
that's causing those tears than smoke, sweet wife? You've done
nothing but play nursemaid to Seth and me, tend to the chores,
cook all the meals, haul in wood, and on top of that, keep a
clean house." He shook his head at her and clicked his tongue.
"It's time you rested."

"But I..."

Something intense flared through his veins as he moved
his hands up and down her arms, pulling her closer, inch by
inch. The fight seemed to have gone out of her as she heaved
a sigh and melted into his arms. When he felt a damp spot growing on his shoulder, and felt a tiny shudder, he knew with
certainty she was crying.