“Seth.” She began to push him away. The alarm blocked out all passion. “Seth! Where’s Adam?”
“He’s probably still asleep,” he whispered into her ear. His hand was on her body, stroking the soft curve of her hip.
“No. Adam never sleeps late, at least not in his own room. I have to go see. Something’s wrong.”
Seth drew back and stared down into her face. He saw the concern, the fear. He started to tell her how silly she was, but he stopped. He’d have the rest of his life to talk about Adam. Right now she needed reassurance. “Well, go then. And then you can come back here. Better yet, I’ll go with you and then I’ll make sure you come back with me.” He held her close to him as they went to Adam’s room. “I don’t plan to let you out of my room for at least two weeks. Adam can pound on the door for hours, but I need you more than he does. See,” they stood in the child’s doorway, “he looks like a little cherub.”
Morgan frowned. Adam was too peaceful. Something was wrong. Every morning Carol had to remake Adam’s bed from the sheets up because he tore everything off during the night. This morning the light quilt was still tucked in, not in its usual place on the floor. Quickly, she crossed the room and smoothed his hair from his forehead. His face was hot, very hot.
Her face drained of color and she turned to Seth. Instantly, he was beside his son, his large hands holding the boy’s head. His neck was swollen and his skin was almost burning. Adam whimpered at his father’s touch. Seth’s face held the same look as Morgan’s. “I’ll get the doctor.” His voice was harsh, reflecting a depth of fear he’d never known before.
Minutes later, Morgan heard him running down the stairs, and then there were the sounds of a horse’s hooves.
Morgan was numb. She dropped to her knees and took her son’s little hand. It was so dry and so very, very hot. Adam had never been sick. He couldn’t be sick. He was too little to bear pain. “Adam, sweetheart,” she whispered as she held the listless little hand to her cheek.
Adam’s eyelids fluttered. “Mama.” His voice was rough, barely audible. He swallowed and his eyes screwed up tightly as he tried to stand the pain.
“I’m here, baby. Mama’s right here and Daddy’s gone for the doctor. When he gets here, he’ll make you well. You’ll feel better then. The doctor will make it all stop hurting.”
“Mrs. Colter!” Roselle entered the room. “I heard Mr. Blake running down the stairs. Is everything all right?” She stopped when she saw Morgan’s face. Never had she seen such bleakness, such despair. She looked at Adam, too quiet, his mother holding his hand. “Adam!” She touched his burning little forehead and her eyes drooped.
Once before, this had happened. She was reliving that time. Her little girl had been like Adam, and about his age, too. Sarah, her sweet, always-active little girl. One morning she’d found her in her bed, so quiet and so hot. In less than a week, she’d died. She’d never really gotten over Sarah, or the pain of washing and dressing that sweet little body for the final time. Please, dear God, don’t let it all happen again.
“What can I do?” Morgan’s eyes implored the older woman.
Roselle tried to control her rising hysteria. “Did Mr. Blake go for the doctor?”
“Seth. He’s not Mr. Blake, he’s Seth Colter, Adam’s daddy.” She stroked Adam’s hand and arm.
“I thought so.” Roselle had to calm herself and calm Morgan. She left the room and returned with a dress and underclothes. She lifted Morgan from her knees and began dressing her, as if she were a child. She kept up a steady stream of talk. “It’s probably just one of those childhood things, the things children always get. I’m sure he’ll be well in no time at all.”
“Adam’s never sick. He’s never even had a bad cold.”
“Well, then, it’s time he had one.” Roselle tried not to let the fear into her voice.
“He’s so still. Why isn’t he yelling, ‘Eat, eat,’ like he always does? Adam.” She fell to her knees again. “Mommy will get you some chicken. Would you like some chicken? Or cookies? Would Mommy’s baby like some cookies?”
Adam made a great effort to open his eyes. Morgan gasped at the pain she saw in them.
Roselle put her arm around the other woman’s shoulders, forcefully lifting her. “Please, Mrs. Colter, sit here.” She pulled a chair close to the bed. “Adam doesn’t want to eat now. Just wait until the doctor comes. He’ll know what to do.” She started toward the door. “I’ll send Carol up with some breakfast for you.”
When Morgan was alone, she felt the full fear rising in her throat, threatening to choke her. For some reason, Roselle’s statement that Adam didn’t want to eat was more frightening than his extraordinary quiet or even his fever-ridden little body. Adam always ate. He was born hungry and his little life was controlled by food. His first word had been “Eat!” It had not been a quiet attempt at the word, but one day it had just exploded from his lips in a demand. She remembered how she and Jake, Lupita and Paul, had all laughed. Adam had ignored them. He had demanded food and he expected it to be served to him.
Adam didn’t want to eat. The words repeated themselves over and over in her brain. His face was flushed, the fever making his cheeks a vivid red. That couldn’t be Adam, she thought. Adam was always a blur of motion. He’s playing a game, to make me bake him some cookies. Yes, that’s what he wants. I’ll bake him thousands of cookies, but I can’t go to the kitchen now because I must be here when he opens his eyes.
She stroked his forehead. It was so dry. Adam was usually wet. He sweat all the time, just like his father. He played hard, running and laughing so much that perspiration often soaked his hair.
“When you get over your bad cold, Adam, Mommy will bake you some cookies, and some little cakes with lots of icing. We’ll write ‘Adam’ on them and ‘horse’ and ‘eat’ … and we’ll draw pictures.”
Adam opened his eyes and stared at his mother in bewilderment. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. In his whole life, the only pain he’d experienced was scraped knees and skinned elbows. When those things had happened, he’d gone to his mother and her kisses had made the hurt stop. Now his mother was here and the pain didn’t go away. He didn’t understand, not at all.
Morgan didn’t know how long she sat there. She was vaguely aware of Roselle and Carol entering and leaving the room. A few times she heard someone telling her to eat. The lump was still in her throat and she knew she could swallow nothing. Didn’t they understand that if her baby couldn’t eat, then neither could she?
She heard voices outside the door and recognized Seth’s. He’d have the doctor. She felt relief flood her body. “The doctor’s here, baby. He’ll make you well. He’ll make the pain go away.”
She ran to meet Seth. “Where’s the doctor?”
“He’s coming. Is he any better?”
“No, Seth. He’s so hot. So hot, and he’s so little.”
Seth held his wife’s hand. It was cold. They went together to Adam’s bed. Seth’s fears mounted. In the few hours since he’d been gone, Adam looked as if he’d shrunk. His entire face was red, splattered with ghostly white splotches.
“This is Dr. Larson, Morgan, and this is Mrs. Colter.”
“Our son, doctor! He’s so little and he hurts. He’s never been sick before.”
Seth took her arm, quieting her. He noticed she’d said “our son.” He was glad she was ready to admit their relationship because, in his haste, he had given the doctor his real name.
“I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Colter.”
The doctor, an older, corpulent man, pulled back the covers and began to examine Adam. As he pulled up Adam’s nightshirt, Morgan gasped at the redness. Seth’s grip on her arm tightened.
“I think this is the culprit.” He turned Adam’s leg to show a bump, large and inflamed, on the calf of his left leg. “It seems to be some kind of insect bite.”
“Some kind? What kind? What kind of insect bite?!”
“That, Mrs. Colter,
I don’t know. I’ve seen a couple of these cases, but not many. A lot of people think it’s some kind of tick bite, but no one knows for sure.”
Morgan sighed. It didn’t matter what the cause was, just the cure. “What do we do now? How do we make him well?”
“There’s not much I know to do, really. If the boy’s healthy, he’ll fight it off. But if not, then you ought to prepare yourself.”
She smiled at the doctor. Her hearing wasn’t working at all. Through the mist, she heard Seth’s voice.
“There’s absolutely nothing we can do?”
“Try to get some liquids down him. And pray. That’s all anyone can do. He’ll probably have diarrhea soon, and he’ll need to replenish the water he loses.”
The fog was beginning to clear. What did he mean, “prepare yourself”? The doctor was leaving. She pulled away from Seth. “You can’t leave! My baby is sick. He needs you! You have to help him.”
The doctor’s eyes were sad. He looked up at Seth as the big man took his wife’s shoulders in his hands. At Seth’s silent nod, he left the room. God! he thought, there were times when he hated his job.
Her voice was high, rising higher. “He can’t do anything? My baby is sick and he can’t do anything? He says to prepare myself.”
Seth’s fingers bit into her shoulders. “Listen to me. Adam is sick, very sick. He needs you. You can’t indulge yourself in hysterics now. Do you hear me? Adam needs you.”
“Yes.” Her chin came up. “Adam needs me.”
“Now the doctor said to try to get some liquids into him, and that’s what we’re going to do. Adam knows you best of all and he trusts you. You’ll feed him.”
“Feed him, yes.”
“I’m going to the kitchen to tell Roselle, and when I come back, I want you in that chair and quiet. Adam needs his mother now, not some crazy woman tearing her hair. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Adam needs his mother.”
Morgan sat obediently by Adam’s bedside. Carol entered. “I’m sure he’ll be all right, Mrs. Colter. My little brother has fevers all the time, but he always gets well.”
Morgan tried to smile at the girl.
Seth returned carrying a steaming bowl of beef broth. “I’ll hold him up while you feed him.”
Adam’s eyes hardly fluttered when Seth lifted him. Seth was shocked by the incredible heat emanating from the child’s body. He felt so fragile in Seth’s arms. He opened his eyes when the warm spoon touched his lips. He swallowed and then his eyes screwed together in pain as the liquid went down his throat. He moaned in agony. He turned away from the spoon his mother held and looked at her in question. Why did she want to cause him pain?
“It hurts him, Seth. He can’t eat it.”
“Try again.” Adam kept his lips sealed, refusing more of the broth. Seth lowered him. “We’ll try again later.”
Carol came into the room carrying clean towels and a basin of warm water. She also held diapers. Seth stared at the diapers. Adam hadn’t worn them in months.
His mother and father bathed the fevered child and changed his gown. Then they sat down to wait. There was nothing else to do.
The house was silent. No one made any loud noises. Morgan bathed her son’s face continually. Roselle brought food, but neither parent touched it. They watched their son, locked together in one purpose.
“I feel so helpless, Seth, I just don’t know what to do. Adam has always been such a sweet child. Everyone has always loved him. The only time he’s ever selfish is when someone threatens his food. Now—” She wiped a tear from her eye. “—now he can’t eat.”
“Morgan!” Seth’s voice held a warning. “I don’t know what to do. If only there were something … someone…”
He dropped his head onto his hands, his elbows on his knees. “I never know what to do. I nearly died once, when Montoya shot me. Lupita said I had a fever for two weeks. She said…” He stopped and looked up at Morgan. “Lupita,” he whispered. He stood up. “Lupita!” He shouted her name. “I’ll go get her. Lupita will save my boy. I know she will. I’ll get her.”
Morgan ran to her husband. Here, at last, was hope. “Can you do it, Seth? Can you get her here soon? It took us two days to get from your ranch to here.”
“I’ll do it. Hell won’t stop me. Lupita will save him, I know she can.” He stared down at his wife. He kissed her mouth hard, quickly. “Take care of him. Get Roselle to hold him and you feed him. I’ll be back as soon as possible—with Lupita.” He pulled her to him and held her for a few seconds. “God knows Adam, and He’ll take care of him. He won’t let anything happen to our little boy.” He released her and was gone. Within seconds, she heard the horse’s hooves.
“Mrs. Colter, you really should eat. You must keep up your strength.”
“Could you get me some milk for Adam? Maybe that will coat his throat and hurt less.”
Adam took very little of the milk, whimpering in pain when his mother tried to make him drink it. She gave in to his helpless pleas and set the glass aside. She moistened his lips with a few droplets of water. She bathed his body.
All night she sat by his bed, watching for any signs of change. There were none. In the morning, he began to moan and toss about on the bed. He began to sweat and the dreaded diarrhea started.
“Roselle, you’ll have to help me. We need to get fluids into him, or he’ll lose everything.”
Together, they tried to force him to drink the liquids, but they did not succeed. Most of it spilled down his front.
Roselle watched her mistress as she changed Adam’s gown. Her hair was a tangle of snarls, her dress was covered with stains from trying to feed Adam. There were bluish circles under her eyes.
They heard a horse outside the house and Morgan ran to see who it was. Her shoulders drooped when she saw Martin. Of course it couldn’t be Seth. He hadn’t had time to get back yet.
“Martin’s been to the bunkhouse to tell the men about Adam, and that Seth will be gone for a few days.”
Bunkhouse? Oh, yes, there was a ranch … but she cared nothing for it right now.
“Mama. Mama.” Adam’s head turned on the pillow. He was asleep, or seemed to be.
“I’m here, baby. Mama’s here.” His little palm was wet though she had just washed him.
Hours later, Roselle brought tea for Morgan. Adam’s body was hot again and he made feeble attempts to kick off the light quilt, but he had no strength. She tried again and again to feed him.
Roselle handed Morgan the cup and saucer and, automatically, she took it. The porcelain dishes rattled against one another as she held them in her shaking hands. She sipped the tea, finding it an effort to do so. Her whole body seemed to be trembling.
“You have to get some rest, now. Stretch out here and I’ll stay with him while you sleep.”
“Yes.” She was weary, but when she lay on the cot, her body remained tense.
“Mama.” She was at his side instantly. He was cold now, and even his teeth were chattering. Roselle ran for more blankets, and Morgan held her little son tightly in her arms. His body seemed to become more frail with each passing moment. She tried to get him to drink some hot milk, but his little throat was too sore.
In the late afternoon, Roselle got Morgan to drink some hot broth, and again tried to persuade her to sleep on the cot. She had Martin carry a loveseat from downstairs into the room. Morgan sank onto it and leaned back into the corner. Adam was still, sleeping peacefully again.
Morgan didn’t know when she fell asleep, but when she woke, there was a quilt over her and Roselle smiled at her from across Adam’s bed. She was grateful to the woman and said so. The sleep gave her new energy. She renewed her vigilance, this time trying to coax apple juice into the little body.
Seth rode hard all the way to Albuquerque. At the livery stable, he gasped out his reason for hurry and soon there was a fresh horse saddled and ready to go. In the middle of the night, he galloped to a stop at a homestead between Albuquerque a
nd Santa Fe. The owner of the adobe house understood about the hurry. He loaned Seth a horse and refused his offer of money.
“Your horse will be here when you return with the woman who will help your little boy. I will have another ready for her also. No, keep your money. Juan Ramón may need a friend someday. Then you can repay him.”
Seth rode the horse harder than he had ever driven an animal before. He reached his ranch in the late afternoon.
Lupita was standing in the middle of the chickens when she saw the lone rider coming toward them. Her first thought was for the horse. No one had a right to work a horse like that. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew it was her Seth. Something had to be very wrong for him to treat an animal so cruelly.
She dropped the basket of chicken feed, picked up her skirts, and began running. Jake, in the barn, dropped a bale of hay at the sight of the overweight woman running. He shouted for Paul and ran after Lupita. He knew that only Seth could cause her to lose her usual calm.
Seth pulled the horse to a stop and dropped to his feet beside Lupita. He looked awful—sunken, dirty—and his eyes were crazy, burning. “Adam. A fever. Some kind of tick,” he gasped out at her.
She needed no more explanation. “I’ll get my medicines.” She started running back to her little house, behind the main house. She passed Jake and started to give orders, but closed her mouth. The old man would be useless until he’d seen Seth.
Seth was running beside her, Jake following. “What’s he like?”
“There’s a high fever and a knot on his leg, swollen and red. The doctor said it was an insect bite, maybe a tick.”
“Adam! This is Adam you’re talkin’ about? I knew the little girl shouldn’ta taken him away. Now he’s sick.” He watched Seth. He had known the big man since he was a little boy and he knew Adam must be very sick to cause the terror he saw now in Seth’s face.