Prairie Storm (13 page)

“Prayer,” Eli said.

The doctor lifted Samuel's arm, and the baby let out a whimper of protest. “That's the only thing you did right so far. Did either of you happen to notice what kind of spider bit this baby?”

“Spider?” Lily leapt up from the settee and raced across the room. “A spider bit Samuel?”

“Don't tell me you never looked at the kid.”

Eli hurried to Lily's side and stared down at the ugly red welt on Sam's tender skin just beneath his armpit. “We had him wrapped up to sweat out the fever,” he explained. “The women in town told us—”

“Next time one of your young'uns gets sick, you look him over before you do anything else. It's real simple. Check his eyes. Open his mouth and look at his tongue. Listen to his heartbeat. See if there's a thorn in his foot or a bean up his nose or a plug of wax in his ear. You know what I mean?
Look
at your child. See what's wrong before you go pouring tonics down his throat and binding his stomach up tight. Now, let's see here. It couldn't have been too bad a bite, or you'd be long gone, little fellow. You're a fighter, though.” He looked at Eli. “Your boy's a real fighter, isn't he?”

Eli nodded. “Yes, sir. He sure is.”

“I'll have to clean this up and try to draw out the infection.” He opened a cupboard that held a collection of dinner plates, wool stockings, raw eggs, and several tubs of ointment. He began to take out one medicine after another. “We'd better try some of this. And he could use a little of that. This ought to help. And this won't do any harm. I figured I wouldn't get through my dinner without interruption. A man sits down with his lamb chop and his tea.… Well, now, I forgot about this slice of apple pie I put in here the other day. Mrs. Truman gave it to me after I pulled her husband's teeth out. She swore it was the best apple pie this side of the Mississippi, and she's right. I believe I'll have this last slice for dessert. Yes, sir. We saved the teeth, but I don't think that man will wear the denture she's having me make. No, sir, he'll be gumming down his apple pie from now on. He's a stubborn old cuss. I guess that's why he's lived as long as he has. Well, that ought to do us. I don't suppose you folks are going to be able to pay for this. Dirt farmers never do. All the same, I want you to come back in three days and let me take a look at the boy. We ought to have most of the infection out by then, and the fever will be down.”

Eli blinked as the old man slid the plate of apple pie down the table to join his lamb chop, and then he set three small packets of ointment and a bottle of tonic beside the baby. “You mean,” Eli said, “you mean, Sam's not going to die?”

“If you'd kept him wrapped up like a sausage any longer than you did, he would have died. And it's no wonder he couldn't eat with his belly all caved in under that bandage.”

“He's going to live?” Lily asked.

“That's what I said, wasn't it?” The doctor adjusted his suspenders and started toward his dinner. “Go on now. You folks did your best to kill him, but he's a fighter. Your prayers helped too. I've been in this business more than fifty years, and I don't understand it to this day—but folks who pray have an edge. So keep it up.”

Eli looked at Lily. Then he turned back to the doctor. “Samuel's going to be all right?”

“Are you folks deaf? Take him and go,” the old man barked. “I want to eat my apple pie. I'll see you in three days. All of you.”

Chapter 7

I
WANT to find Beatrice,” Lily said softly. She cuddled the tiny baby beneath her white shawl and shivered with relief that Sam was nursing again. Though she and Elijah had only stepped outside the doctor's office and climbed back into the wagon, somehow a wind of hope had lifted her spirits. The child would live. A future stretched ahead, filled with possibility and promise.

Beside Lily on the wagon bench, the broad-shouldered preacher fiddled with the mule's reins. He hadn't spoken since they told Mother Margaret, who was seated in the rear of the wagon, the good news.

It was clear to Lily that Eli was all but overcome with emotion, knowing the baby would be all right.
A man who truly loves a child. A man who can express something more than rage. A man who can weep. How rare and beautiful
, she thought.

“Beatrice will be able to find us a place to stay,” Lily said, laying her hand on Elijah's arm. “She knows Topeka better than I do, and she has acquaintances here.”

Though she had no intention of letting Elijah in on her plans, Lily had made up her mind to retrieve her melodeon from Beatrice Waldowski. With the money she had secreted out of her father's vault in Philadelphia exhausted long ago, the small instrument was Lily's only asset. Here in Topeka, she would sell the melodeon. With that money and the wages she was earning from Elijah Book, she could plan what to do next. For the time being, she would return to Hope to see Samuel back to health. After that, she couldn't be sure.

All she knew was that something had touched her during those dark, agonizing minutes in the doctor's office. Desperate, vulnerable, she had allowed the possibility of God to enter her heart. For the first time in her memory, she had let down the walls that barricaded her soul—and she had caught a glimpse of genuine hope, faith … and love. Though Lily had no idea which direction her life should take, she now knew she would never continue west with Beatrice and the traveling show.

“There's a hotel here in Topeka,” Lily said to Elijah. “It's called the Crescent Moon, and Beatrice knows the owners. If we go there, they'll be able to tell us where she's staying.”

Eli swallowed and clenched his hands around the reins. “God spared Sam's life,” he said, his voice rough. “And you want to carry my son into a den of iniquity?”

Lily felt a familiar curl of defiance slide into her chest. “The Crescent Moon is not a den of iniquity. It's a hotel.”

“Hotels have saloons.”

“I wasn't planning to lead Samuel down the path to strong drink and loose women.”

“What were you planning? To find Madame Zahara and tell her to put one of her spells on my son's body? To ask your friend to read the bumps on his skull?
Jesus Christ
saved Sam's life, Lily, and that's all there is to it. I won't bring dishonor to the miracles of almighty God by letting the handiwork of the devil taint my child.”

“Beatrice is not a devil!”

“She's no saint.”

“Neither are you, Preacher-man.” Lily felt the baby squirm with discomfort at the stormy voices around his cocoon of comfort. “I suppose you'd rather camp out on this rain-drenched night, risking pneumonia and who-knows-what diseases on this poor baby, than let anyone catch a glimpse of your holy hide in a saloon.”

“My hide's not holy, but it is sanctified by the blood of—”

“Sanctified and saved. Washed in the blood. Whiter than snow. Glory hallelujah.” Lily tried to catch her breath. She suddenly felt ill from the whirlwind that raged inside her. “I seem to recall that Jesus invited himself to the house of Zacchaeus the tax gatherer when he needed lodging and food. And when the disciples questioned Jesus about eating with publicans and sinners, he told them, ‘They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick—'”

“How do you know that verse?” He turned on her, taking her shoulders in his strong hands. “You know the Bible better than I do, Lily, but you throw the Scriptures at me as though they were stones.”

“You deserve it.” At his rough touch, she shrank into herself, fearful of the outcome yet determined to have her say. If the man became violent, she would survive as she always had. She would retreat to the protection of the quiet place inside herself, to the golden solace of her music.

“You believe the Bible's words without testing them,” she went on. “You put your trust in your own righteousness. You think you know everything, but you know nothing. You don't even know who Jesus Christ was.”

“Who was he?” In the sky overhead, the storm clouds had rolled away, and Eli's blue eyes shone in the moonlight. His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Lily, who
is
Jesus Christ?”

She sucked in a breath. “If you don't know—”

“I know. I don't always follow him the way I ought. I make a lot of mistakes. You're right that I judge folks when I shouldn't, and I say things without thinking. But I know Jesus Christ. I know what he's done inside me. I know how he changed my life. If you see a bunch of mistakes being made by a big ol' fool, you can figure it's probably me. If you see love and healing and hope and freedom and peace, that's Jesus.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, lowering her head. “Sorry I lashed out at you. Sometimes you just make me furious.”

“You make me so mad I could spit nails.”

A smile tickled the corner of Lily's mouth. “At least you're honest about that, Preacher-man.”

“I'm honest about everything, even though sometimes it means I put my foot right into my mouth. And the honest truth is, I don't want to look for your friend Beatrice.”

“Why not? She knows this town. She can help us.”

“What if she lures you back into her—”

“Den of iniquity? You make her sound like a spider.”

Elijah studied the reins in his hand, and Lily realized that her description fit the man's opinion of her friend perfectly. To the preacher, Beatrice Waldowski was a spider. A poisonous insect. A venomous instrument of the devil, determined to inflict her evil on the lives of everyone she touched.

“It's because of you, Lily,” he said finally. “I don't want to lose you. I know Samuel needs you. But I … well, I like having you around, too. We're kind of a team, you know, with the baby. Hearing you sing always lifts my spirits. And I enjoy watching you take care of Sam.”

“And she's purtier than a shiny new tin whistle,” Mother Margaret finally spoke up from the back of the wagon. “Brother Elijah, I'd sit here all night under this wet tent and listen to you work up to tellin' Miz Lily how you really feel about her. But I figure you might go on for hours before you get it right, and in the meantime, you'll probably make her mad two or three more times. A body can only take so much fussin' and makin' up. Now, I want to get me some supper and some sleep. We gonna head over to the den of iniquity or not?”

Lily chuckled at the old woman's blunt question. Leave it to Mother Margaret to get to the point. Elijah was staring into the back of the wagon as though he'd forgotten they had another rider.

“I'd prefer to camp by the river,” he said.

“And sleep under this drippin' ol' tent? On these wet blankets? With nothin' to eat but Eva's soggy biscuits? Please, Brother Elijah, have a heart. Don't you know how old I am? I'm
real
old. Now, I got me a son lives here in Topeka, I recall, but I won't be able to locate him without a good bit of askin' around. We was slaves, don't you know, and all my children but Ben was sold out from under me. When my little Moses was ten years old, he was bought by a man from Topeka, and no tellin' what become of him since. So I reckon I better wait until tomorrow to start lookin'. Meanwhile, I expect the Crescent Moon Hotel has got itself some dry beds and a pot of soup a-boilin' on the stove. Kansas is a free state, so let's see what we can find there.”

Elijah tugged on his Stetson brim and gave the reins a flick. “All right, Mother Margaret,” he said. “Publicans and sinners, here we come.”

Although Topeka, Kansas, had a reputation as a sleepy little cattle town, for Lily the place was steeped in sorrow. It was in Topeka that her daughter had been captured in the deadly grip of diphtheria. It was here that her precious baby had been ripped from her heart and buried in an unmarked grave. It was here that her husband and his employer had died. In Topeka, Lily felt, her own life had ended as well.

Now as she huddled beside Elijah Book, she had the impression that she was traveling in a landscape of hell. One muddy road turned into another. One rickety clapboard house followed another. Hollow-eyed children stared at the wagon through waxed-paper windowpanes. Even though the moon shone overhead, darkness crept around each corner and lurked under every porch. Dogs slinked across the streets, the hair on their spines lifted in wariness. Turn after turn led the wagon down narrow alleys and across vacant, treeless lots.

Now and then, Elijah called out to someone to ask directions to the Crescent Moon Hotel. “Turn left,” came one response. “Two streets down,” came another. “Turn right and then right again. I think that hotel's near the Boar's Breath Tavern. You'd better check with the night watchman on the corner up ahead.”

Lily tried not to shiver, but exhaustion and fear crept into her bones. She wanted to pray again, as she had in the doctor's house. Her heart longed to cry out for help, guidance, and safety. But she was too wary to venture a prayer. She didn't want to trust a God who had let her down so many times before.