Amethyst (7 page)

“We’d like a table for two—and not by the kitchen.”

“Yes, madam.” He turned and led the way to a table that had a padded bench on one side and a chair on the other. “Will this be acceptable?”

Mrs. Grant smiled at her companion. “Will this suit?”

Amethyst wet her lips. “Of course.” If only her father could see her now.

Several hours later, with the train rocking its way across western Minnesota, Amethyst found herself swallowing and swallowing again. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and her stomach roiled like the creek in spring freshet.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you.”

“How long since you had eaten?”

“I had some bread with me.”

“Perhaps the beef was too rich.”

“Perhaps.” A shiver started at her feet and worked its way upward. She pulled her coat around her, even though they weren’t that far from the potbellied stove and the air was not cold. Her stomach cramped and, before she could clamp her hand over her mouth, erupted. She twisted her head so that the vomit missed Mrs. Grant, but the stink and the mess of it made Amethyst want to die. What would her benefactress think now?

CHAPTER FIVE

Surely death would be better than this.

The train rocking made even opening her eyes a risky business.

“Amethyst, dear, do you think you can drink some water?” Mrs. Grant leaned forward from the facing seat and wiped the perspiration from Amethyst’s face. The cool cloth brought only momentary relief.

Amethyst thought to shake her head but, having suffered the consequences of responding to a query like that once before, chose to try to speak instead. Her “No, thank you” came out as an indecipherable croak.

She heard two people talking but couldn’t focus enough to understand what they were saying. Never in her life had she been so sick.
Ah, Ma, how I need you
. Her belly cramped again, but there was nothing to come up.
Lord God, please take me home. I cannot endure this
. She fell back in the deep pit of near unconsciousness, Mrs. Grant’s conversation just at the edge of her awareness.

“You are going to have to take her off at Fargo, Mrs. Grant. If she is contagious, all the other passengers are in danger.”

“If I find a place to take care of her, will the train wait for me?”

“You’d have to catch tomorrow’s train, ma’am.”

“I see. She is far too weak to walk. Is there someone who will assist us?”

“Once we arrive in Fargo, I’ll talk to the ticket agent and see if he can find a wagon or a buggy. The doctor has some beds at his house. Perhaps he will take her in. There are hotels too and several boardinghouses. One of them might be able to help you.” He stopped for a moment. “She isn’t really your traveling companion, is she?”

“Not really. We struck up a conversation and went together for dinner in St. Paul. She fell sick not long after that.”

“So you have no responsibility for her, then?”

“No, none other than that of Christian charity. I cannot just leave her.”

“Others might. You are a gracious woman. As soon as I find some help, I’ll let you know.”

“Have you by any chance checked to see if there is a doctor on board?”

“Yes. There’s none on this trip. Not so many people travel in the winter, you know.”

“All right, then. Well, thank you.”

Amethyst opened her eyes to see Mrs. Grant sponging her face again.

“We’ll be getting off in Fargo, Amethyst dear, so that we can find medical attention for you.”

Amethyst blinked and shook her head the slightest. “N-no.” Her throat burned as though she’d swallowed a live coal. Her head throbbed, keeping time with the clacking wheels.

“Do not fear. I’m not going to leave you.”

“W-wa-ter.”

“Of course, but just a sip.” Mrs. Grant held a cup to her charge’s lips, but when the liquid dribbled down the side of her face, she slid an arm behind Amethyst’s neck and propped her with one arm, tipping the cup with her other hand. The train lurched and liquid spilled again, but Amethyst got enough in her mouth to swallow.

“M-more?”

They repeated the routine again and were a bit more successful. The cool liquid eased the fire in her throat, and Amethyst managed the barest hint of a smile.

The conductor stopped at Mrs. Grant’s seat. “Fargo is just ahead. I’ll get the others off and then find someone and come back for you.”

“Thank you so much.”

He walked on through the car and headed out the door at the end.

Amethyst tried to rouse when she felt strong arms lift her from the train seat. What was going on? Where were they taking her? She ordered her mouth to ask questions, but her tongue failed, and only guttural sounds came out.

“You’ll be fine, miss.” The male voice echoed as much in the rumble of his chest as in her hearing.

She’d be fine.
What is wrong with me? I’m going to…to…
She couldn’t even remember the place she was bound for. Why not take her home? Where was she?

Cold bit her nose and cheeks. Bright sunlight closed her eyes. Strong arms, like bands, held her tight, and then her benefactor set her on the seat of a buggy. In spite of her desire to stay upright, she slipped sideways until she fell against a soft cushion. Mrs. Grant wrapped her arms around her.

“Thank you, sir. You have been most kind.”

The buggy swayed as the driver mounted the front seat and clucked his team forward. “I’ll take you to the doctor’s, unless there is somewhere else you’d like to go.”

“No, that is all I can think to do.”

Some time later Amethyst swallowed warm broth that was spooned to her mouth. The bed was warm and not rocking, with space for her to stretch out and turn her face into a pillow beneath her head. She continued swallowing until the broth was taken away, and she heard a strange woman murmuring to her that they’d get her into something more comfortable and she could rest easy now.

When she woke again, a lamp beside the bed shone on a woman sound asleep in the chair. A white apron covered her dress, and she wore a shawl around her shoulders. Amethyst tried to be quiet, but her slightest move roused the woman caring for her.

“Ah, there you are.” The woman laid a hand against Amethyst’s cheek. “I think you’re on the mend. Let me fetch some more broth, since you’ve kept down what I’ve given you. Doctor says to give you as much as you can tolerate.”

“Where am I?” Finally, words made it from her mind to her mouth and were spoken aloud. She could even hear them.

“Why, you’re in Fargo at Doctor Sampson’s. I’m Alvia, the doctor’s missus and the main nurse. He’s out on a call and won’t be back until that baby is born. So I’ll leave you for a minute and fetch the broth.”

Amethyst forced her mind to remember.
Who was it who had taken care of her on the train? Ah, Mrs. Grant
. “Mrs. Grant?”

“She’s gone to the hotel. She said to let her know as soon as you woke up, but I think we’ll wait until morning. You’ve been here two days.”

“Thank you.” Two days? What all had she missed? Amethyst tried to remember something that might have happened, but she wasn’t sure.

The nurse had to waken her again when she returned with the broth. “Here we go, dearie. You just swallow now, and this will be gone in no time. Perhaps you’d like an egg for breakfast in a few hours, and then we’ll give you a good bath. Amazing how much better you’ll feel.”

Like a small child being fed, Amethyst opened her mouth every time the spoon reached her lips. Never had she been so weak she couldn’t at least feed herself. Gratitude brimmed over, and a tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another.

“Is there something else I can do for you? Do you hurt anywhere?”

Amethyst shook her head, but the tears continued.

When Amethyst finished the broth, Mrs. Sampson dipped a cloth in a basin of water she’d brought. “Here now, this will make you feel better.” She gently washed her patient’s face and hands, then patted them dry with a soft cloth. “I have some cream here that will help too.” She smoothed a creamy liquid over Amethyst’s face and rubbed it into her hands.

“Roses. In the winter?”

“Yes, I add rose petals. Sick folk need something soothing that smells good.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. I think I’ll go on to bed now, but there is a bell here for you to ring if you need anything.”

Amethyst nodded, her eyelids so heavy she just gave up and drifted back to sleep.

When she woke again many hours must have passed because now Mrs. Grant had taken the chair, moved it over closer to the window, and sat reading. Amethyst watched the woman who’d been her savior, watched the sunbeams play with the fine strands of white hair until her whole head appeared to be afire, glinting like sun on snow, making her smile. She must have shifted, because Mrs. Grant looked up, marked her place in the book, and set it aside.

“You are looking far better than when we left the train. Welcome back.”

“How will I ever thank you?” Ah, finally she could give voice without sounding like a frog croaking from a pond.

“Just by getting well. Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please.” At that moment she realized thirst rampaged through her like marauding foxes. She drank from the cup that Mrs. Grant held, was even able to hold up her own head, although the action made her pant with the effort.

“I’m going for Mrs. Sampson. She said to let her know when you awoke and she’d bring in breakfast.”

“Thank you.” Was that actually hunger she felt growling in her middle?

Between the two women, Amethyst was fed, bathed, and clothed in a clean nightdress that felt heavenly against skin that had indeed been soothed by the cream they’d rubbed over her entire body.

“I smell like a flower garden.” She lifted her hand to her face and sniffed. “Do you by any chance have a receipt for your cream? How I would love to make something like this.”
Back when I am home again and can use some ingredients from my garden
.

“I will write it up for you. I get the glycerin over at the apothecary. My mother used goose fat for her skin, but this is much more soothing. You can put mint in it too, or sometimes I’ve used lavender. That makes a real nice lotion.”