Chapter 18
“For mercy’s sake, Proctor, people are dyin’!” Jacob shouted.
“Then there’ll be less mouths to feed through to Oregon,” Proctor growled back.
Jacob grabbed the hulking man’s arm, and before he could blink, Proctor had a revolver pressed to his stomach.
He could feel the cold steel through his shirt.
Proctor’s eyes glittered in the waning light.
“And if you have a problem with that, Munroe, I can leave you right here for the coyotes and buzzards.” Jacob’s mouth hung open, frozen in disbelief.
“Nothin’ to say? Thought so,” Proctor said, smiling maliciously.
He holstered his gun and stalked off into the night.
Jacob just stood there, powerless. How many had died?
Six? No, seven, including little Davie. His fists clenched.
The sick needed rest, but it was either push on under Proctor’s orders or risk it alone out on the prairie.
It was all well and dandy now to go it alone, here with the Platte to guide them west. But once through South Pass, the way became treacherous and hazy.
One wrong step and a wagon alone could get lost out there, never to be seen again.
So the travelers pressed on. Despite their loved ones dying, they kept going.
Jacob’s resolve strengthened. Then he would do all he could to help them.
These people were his responsibility. The entire reason for him being here was to see these families safely across the wilderness.
So that’s what he would do. Jacob squared his shoulders despite the ache in his side.
Help James, Kate had said. That’s where he’d start.
Jacob found James weeping against the side of his wagon. Dread washed over him. Not Maria too. But James clasped him in a fierce hug. “She’s gonna be all right!” James cried.
Jacob’s cracked ribs sent out flares of pain, but he hugged James back just as fiercely. “Fantastic news!”
James broke away, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done. If I had lost them all—” He swallowed hard, tears welling up in his eyes.
“But she’s gonna be all right. Praise the Lord for Kate McGrath.
She was here day and night, even though her own ma was sick.
I don’t know what I would’ve done,” he said again, staring at his boots.
Jacob clasped his shoulder. “Is there anythin’ I can do?”
James waved a weary hand. “We’ll be fine now, just need some sleep. And time to heal.” He locked his gaze with Jacob's, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But you see to Kate, ya hear? She deserves a medal for what she done.”
“That I will, I promise you,” Jacob replied solemnly. And he left to do just that.
The McGraths were on the north side of the circle tonight if he remembered correctly, the side farthest away from the creek.
With the brothers recovering from the fever, work hands were stretched thin.
Seb and Andrew were sleeping out with the herd, taking turns on watch while the others could tend their sick.
Jacob felt so weary. His ribs flared in pain with every step, but his determination outmatched his exhaustion.
He thought of Kate working herself to the bone through this sickness.
First the attack at Fort Kearney and now this? How did she have the strength to go on?
He found the McGrath camp quiet and still.
The fire had burned low, and Danny and Ian slept sprawled by the glowing embers, half-eaten food cold on their plates.
But someone had taken off their boots and covered them with blankets.
Kate. He smiled, a surprising warmth spreading through his chest at the thought.
Ever since her attack, Jacob had felt an odd sort of protectiveness toward her.
He had seen Kate at her most vulnerable, and even in that moment she had displayed a strength of character that didn’t seem possible.
She was so strong, so capable. She was the kind of person who could turn her hand to anything and make something of it.
And she cared for everyone around her without asking anything in return. But who was looking out for her?
Jacob frowned. Where was she? He knew she slept on a pallet under the wagon, but she wasn’t there.
He looked around, an all-too-familiar feeling of dread rising inside.
Not again. His mouth went dry. Where would she have gone?
She’d already been to the Leightons’, and with Old Man Thomas gone, she wouldn’t be caring for him any longer.
He snapped his fingers. The Schmidts. The two families were quite good friends; maybe Kate was with them.
She wasn’t. But they had seen her walking toward the creek.
“When was that?” Jacob asked, his tone sharp.
“Well, it is late, Jacob, that was nearly two hours ago,” Mr. Schmidt replied.
Jacob thanked them and rushed off without another word.
Two hours to fetch water? It felt like an echo of that night at Fort Kearney: the fear, the urgency.
Except the moon was full, its light shuttered now and then by the scuttling clouds.
Jacob became acutely aware of the keening wind and the coolness of the night.
Maybe she just needed some time alone. He quickened his pace.
He started his search where the creek bent and came close to the circle of wagons.
He crashed along the bank of the little stream.
Which way should he look first? He went left, calling her name into the darkness.
After nearly half a mile downstream, Jacob cursed and turned back.
The night was getting cooler. It was almost midnight.
Why hadn’t he brought a lantern? If he didn’t find her by the time he made it to his camp upstream, he would gather a lantern and more people to look.
He walked quickly, his breath shallow through the pain in his side.
He found his starting point and slowed, searching more carefully, eyes straining in the darkness.
Why had she come out here alone? His concern mounted with every step.
Jacob found her lying half submerged in the creek next to an upturned bucket, her lustrous hair tugged free of her braid and rippling softly in the current of the stream, the only part of her that was moving.
His heart lurched as he ran to her side, kneeling in the cold water.
Her face looked so pale in the moonlight.
He quickly checked her pulse. Weak, but steady.
Was she sick? Hurt? The questions whirled in his mind as he quickly checked her over.
No visible wounds. What had happened? He took a deep breath, trying to quell the panic that threatened to choke him.
He looked around. They were nearly out of sight of the fires of the wagon circle.
Why had she wandered so far? He couldn’t leave her to get help.
But she needed to be warm and dry. He’d have to bring her back to her wagon.
He gently gathered her in his arms and carried her up the creek bank.
But her voluminous skirts were heavy with water, and he had only made it ten steps before the pain in his side caused spots to dance across his vision.
Jacob stumbled to a stop, gasping for air, the muscles in his shoulders straining.
His own camp was much closer but in the opposite direction.
He knew that he could black out before even reaching the train.
He wouldn’t be any good to her then. His arms started shaking.
He knew he didn’t have any more time to waste.
So he turned west, away from the train but closer to a fire.
He barely made it. Laying Kate’s prone form next to the fire he had banked hours ago, Jacob stayed there on his hands and knees, gasping, groaning in pain, fighting to keep from blacking out.
He focused on Kate’s white face, forcing himself to remain conscious.
Her lips were blue. He stood with excruciating effort and coaxed the coals back to life, adding all the fuel he had collected earlier to the scant flames.
He gathered his meager pallet and knelt next to her.
She was soaking wet. Jacob’s decency warred with his common sense.
She needed to get dry. What would she think of him?
But she wouldn’t be able to think anything of him if she caught pneumonia and died.
As gently as he could, Jacob slipped off her green gingham dress.
He tried not to look at how her chemise clung damply to her freckled skin, or how her strong arms were silhouetted softly in the light of the fire.
Simply lifting her waterlogged dress to hang to dry made Jacob’s vision swim.
He swayed on his feet. He only had one blanket.
Would it be warm enough? He wrapped her as much as he could, but her face remained ashen, her lips blue.
His chest constricted. He couldn’t just let her fade away.
Kate had cared for others with no thought to herself, sacrificing her time, her energy and now her body to make sure everyone was okay, despite all that she had suffered. Who was caring for her?
Jacob only had his own warmth left to give.
Easing out of his wet shirt, every movement bursting with fresh pain, he lay down behind her.
She shivered uncontrollably, her skin cold and clammy.
He tenderly fit himself around the curve of her body, wrapping an arm around her waist, enfolding her ice-cold hands in his.
He fought to stay awake, the pain and exertion dragging his eyes closed.
No! He needed to make sure she was all right.
He fought sleep until he felt her body warm.
The shivers slowly ceased as she relaxed against his chest, and as her breathing at last settled deep and even, Jacob allowed himself to be pulled into an exhausted sleep.