Moonlight on Water (35 page)

Rachel emptied the stones from the metal pitcher onto the floor. She set it in the box. Pulling the linens she and her mother had embroidered off the tables, she dropped them in. She rushed into her bedroom and got her two dresses that were suitable to be worn outside River's Haven.

She faltered as she stared at the bed. Some of her most cherished memories of River's Haven had taken place here. She had sung with Kitty Cat here and told the little girl stories while they sat together on the bed. And, here, Wyatt had captivated her with his bewitching touch.

Turning, she saw him standing in the doorway. His gaze slipped from the bed to her, and the passion in his eyes lured her to step into his embrace once more. She looked away while she still could resist that invitation.

“I have your guitar, honey,” he said, his words rasping past his lips that she wanted to taste. “Anything else?”

She swallowed the answer she wanted to give him and said, “No, I have everything that is mine. Did you find K. C.'s doll?”

“It's already in the box.”

Rachel went with him into the main room. He picked up the box and they walked out of the cottage. She leaned the guitar against the back of the wagon's seat, then reached into the box he had put in the wagon and drew out the rag doll. She held it close to her heart as they walked across the common area.

“Where is everyone?” Wyatt asked.

She wanted to ask the same thing. Even when they entered the common house, no one came forward to meet them. An outsider should never have been able to walk about here without being challenged.

Her pace increased as she climbed the stairs and went along the hallway in the direction of the children's rooms. The sounds of crying echoed toward her. She halted at the door, shocked to see several obviously sick children lying on beds. Other children were on the floor. Babies were sitting in filthy diapers, and what could have been the remnants of food had been scattered on tables in the middle of the room.

But she saw no adults.

A little boy toddled toward her, his thumb in his mouth. She knelt and brushed aside his hair that was sticky with something. He threw his arms around her. She held him for a moment, then asked, “Where's Miss Hanson?”

He popped his thumb back in his mouth and shrugged.

She tried again. “Do you know where Katherine Mulligan is?”

He pointed toward the far end of the room with the thumb he was not sucking.

Rachel wove among the children, who stared at her with curiosity. She wondered if the youngest ones had ever seen a woman dressed as she was. Most of the children seemed healthy. Maybe Kitty Cat … She moaned when she saw Kitty Cat lying on a low cot, her red curls soaked with feverish sweat.

She touched the little girl's arm, which was frighteningly hot. Although she should not feel guilty, she did as she recalled the lies she had told when she tried to keep Wyatt and Horace hidden in her cottage. She had spoken of Kitty Cat being sick. Now her lie had become the truth.

Kneeling next to her, she whispered, “Kitty Cat, can you hear me?”

The child's eyes opened slightly. Her lips formed Rachel's name, but no sound came out. Rachel handed her the rag doll. Kitty Cat struggled to smile as she hugged her doll. Then the little girl's eyes rolled up, and Rachel opened Kitty Cat's mouth. The light was dim, but she could see the milky membrane already forming on the sides of the little girl's throat.

Bundling a blanket around Kitty Cat and her doll, Rachel lifted her. She turned to see Wyatt behind her, the little boy in his arms.

Wyatt asked, “How is she?”

“She needs to be seen by Doc Bamburger right away.” She looked around the room. “We can't leave the other children here like this. The ones who aren't sick may starve if no one comes to take care of them.”

“Where do you expect to take them?” He arched a brow as his lips tilted in a wry grin. “Why do I even ask? You want me to take them aboard
The Ohio Star
, don't you?”

“Only until I can get Reverend Faulkner to arrange for them to stay somewhere. Maybe the Grange Hall can be opened as a shelter for them.” She paused. “It shouldn't take Reverend Faulkner long to find them a place to stay. How long before you have to leave Haven?”

“We can stay long enough to help these kids.” Putting down the little boy, he stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply.

Every child, even the sick ones, looked at him. He gave orders with the ease of a general commanding a battlefield, but in a tone that did not intimidate the youngsters. The older ones who were healthy enough carried the sick children or helped the littlest ones. Over each shoulder, he put a sick child who was too big for another child to carry.

He bent to pick up a third, then swore.

Rachel bit her lip to hold back her own curses as she realized the youngster was dead. She drew a sheet over the child's head as Wyatt herded the other children out of the room. Then she peered into the rest of the rooms, glancing around to make sure no child was being left behind. She called out, but no one answered. The only sounds came from the hallway and Kitty Cat's struggling breaths.

As she emerged from the dormitory, she saw Wyatt was halfway to the stairs with the children. A weak voice called from the other direction. She turned and choked back a moan as she stared at Mr. Atlee. His brown hair was straggling down into his eyes, which were blurred with fever. His skin had the chalky pallor of a corpse.

“Where are you taking the children?” Mr. Atlee wheezed, fighting for every word.

She put her hand on his arm, then drew it back when she felt how it shook. When she began to explain how they were taking the children where they could be tended to, she was unsure if he understood anything she was saying. He swayed, and she caught his arm as he slowly slid to the floor. His head fell forward onto his chest.

“Leave him,” Wyatt ordered from by the stairs.

“But he's so sick.”

“We'll look for someone to take care of him on the way out. If we can't find anybody, we'll send the doctor out here.”

She hurried to catch up with him, keeping Kitty Cat's head close to her chest. “Doc Bamburger barely has time for all the calls he's making now.”

“Everyone here can't be sick.”

“Then where are they? Why isn't someone taking care of the children?”

“I can't answer that. All I want to do is get out of here.”

Rachel walked down the stairs slowly, watching that none of the littlest children fell. Some were so young that they sat and bumped down the steps on their bottoms. Against her breast, Kitty Cat's forehead was so hot that the heat burned through Rachel's dress. The rag doll was pinned in the blanket between the child and Rachel, but she watched to make sure it did not fall either. She wanted every possible ally to help in the fight to get Kitty Cat better.

The children were clambering into the back of the wagon by the time she reached it. Wyatt must have moved her guitar before they could bump it, because it now was on the seat. He tossed the bigger kids up, and their laughter rang across the eerily empty common area. The little children pressed up to him, their arms raised, wanting to be the next.

She said nothing as Wyatt listened with rare patience to each child. He never showed such forbearance with Rachel. His gaze caught hers, and she knew he could not be as patient with her because his longing for her refused to let him. Her heart wanted to dance with joy at that thought. She was being silly. When was she going to accept that falling in love with this man who loved his boat and the river was bound to ruin her life? But she did not want to listen to good sense. She wanted to relish the need that brought her into his arms again and again.

“Careful,” he called to the children. “Watch out for the sick ones.” He put the last one in and closed the back of the wagon. Coming to Rachel, he said, “Hand K. C. to me, if you can get up there yourself.”

“I used to do it all the time back in Ohio.” She bunched up her skirt and climbed into the front of the wagon. When Wyatt gently placed Kitty Cat in her arms, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“We'll get back to Haven as quickly as I can drive without bouncing some of those kids in the back out onto the road.” He squeezed her hand and turned to walk to his side of the wagon.

Rachel tightened her arms around Kitty Cat when she heard a shout. Her brother ran toward them, waving his arms as if he thought he could take off and fly. She almost smiled, then saw his furious face.

“Get out of here!” Merrill shouted.

“Browning, this is no time—” Wyatt began.

“I told you to leave!”

“Or?” He rolled back one sleeve to reveal the brawny muscles of his forearm that was crossed by the healing wound left by a knife. “I already owe you and your friends for ambushing me and Rachel and K. C.”

Merrill scowled. “If you're talking about the night my sister was banished, then you're making a big mistake. I didn't have anything to do with that Rachel is my sister. Do you think I'd hurt her?”

“I think you'd do whatever you had to in order to curry favor with Foley and the other Elders.”

“You don't know our ways, Colton.”

“Maybe not, but I know what's right and what's wrong. Letting a child die because of your bigotry is wrong.”

Merrill seemed to notice the children for the first time. “What are you doing with them?”

“We're taking them into Haven,” Rachel said, “to make sure they get taken care of. No one was upstairs but Mr. Atlee, who is sick by the main stairs.” When Merrill lost his bluster and fear filled his eyes, she asked, “Can you send someone to help him?”

“You can't take these children.”

“Merrill, for the love of heaven, think of someone other than yourself. Mr. Atlee is ailing, and I've got no idea where Miss Hanson is. We didn't see anyone else in the house.”

“A lot left after you …” He scowled, and she knew he had not wanted to admit that the forced marriage had opened many eyes along with hers. “More are gone, scared of becoming sick.”

“Then you need to help those who are still here while you can.”

He grasped her arm. “Rachel, how can I help everyone who's here?”

“I don't know! But I'm going to help these children. You figure out a way to help their parents.” She pointed to the common house. “There's a key in my office to the safe in the Assembly of Elders's conference room. Open it, and you'll find several thousand dollars. Use it to get some help out here. I don't know if Doc Bamburger will come from Haven, because he's so busy there with this sickness.”

“Do you expect me to bring an outsider—”

“There won't be any
insiders
if you don't do something!” When Merrill continued to stare at her, obviously shocked at what he had not considered, she urged, “Do something! Otherwise, you'll be the only one here.”

Wyatt swung up into the wagon and sat beside her. He picked up the reins and asked, “Are you ready to go, honey?”

“Yes.” She saw her brother's stricken face as Wyatt turned the wagon toward Haven. Had Merrill ever considered having to be on his own and having to make his own decisions about something more important than whom he would marry next?

He must now, because she had to focus on getting Kitty Cat better … and saying goodbye to Wyatt.

Twenty-four

Miss Underhill smiled when Wyatt entered her house as he had each day at this time since they had brought the children from River's Haven. “Good evening, Mr. Colton. I'm glad you're having dinner with us tonight.”

“I'm not here for dinner.”

“Oh? That's a shame. I have a lovely chicken roasting.”

“More than one, I suspect, from what Rachel's told me. She says you're really helping with the River's Haven children over at the Grange Hall. Not just with food, but teaching them lessons and games to keep them busy.”

The schoolteacher's smile was dim with sorrow. “It keeps me busy, too, so I don't have to think about those who are dying. Two more this morning.”

“Kitty Cat?”

“She's still alive.” Miss Underhill glanced at the ceiling. “Go up. Rachel will be wondering what's keeping you.”

Wyatt climbed the narrow stairs that opened into a sun-washed hallway. He barely took note of the immaculate furniture as he went to a door that was partly ajar. From the room came the aroma of peppermint, but it was not a comforting smell. Rachel must have dropped more oil of peppermint into the pot boiling on the stove. She alternated it with a mixture containing alcohol that burned his throat. He did not want to think what it did to K. C.'s.

He knocked quietly.

“Come in,” came Rachel's voice.

She stood as he entered. Her eyes were shadowed by gray arcs, and he wondered if she had slept at all in the past three nights. She moved as if struggling through molasses.

“Good afternoon, honey.” He brushed her lips with a light kiss, fearing if he did more, he would knock her from her unsteady feet. She looked as fragile as the child, but he knew that was not so. “How's K. C.?”

“No worse, but no better.” Her voice was lifeless with fatigue.

He went to the bed where the little girl was gasping for each breath. Her eyes were closed. She might have been asleep or senseless. He could not tell which. Bending down, he touched her cheek. It was still dangerously hot. He picked up her rag doll that had fallen away across the bed. Placing it next to her on the pillow, he turned to look at Rachel.

“Honey, can you spare a moment to talk?” he asked.

“A moment. Soon I need to swab her throat with the mixture Doc Bamburger had me make up.”

He lifted the glass jar from the night table and sniffed. Choking, he lowered it. “What in perdition is that?”

“Carbolic acid, glycerine, and water. It helps combat the membrane trying to close her throat.” She rubbed her hands on her wrinkled apron. “Any medicine he had to fight diphtheria is long gone. Emma has ordered more, but it hasn't arrived yet.”