Page 65 of Mail-Order Lady

He opened his eyes to slits. Those glassy, red-veined eyes that made her chest ache. When his mouth parted, she slid the spoon inside. His lips were so cracked, even blistering already. How long had he been feverish before they’d realized? Last night when they all shared the meal together? Was that why he’d been so reserved? He’d not had the feverish red in his cheeks then. She would have noticed that.

When she pulled the spoon back, Bea moved in to help him sip water. Then Clara fed him another spoonful of the molasses mixture. After alternating twice more, he’d eaten it all.

Bea settled the cloth back across his forehead and murmured something low that Clara couldn’t quite make out. The soothing sound of it made her throat tighten.

She set the spoon and bowl back on the table and wiped her palms against her skirt. The molasses had left a sticky residue on her fingers.

Nathan’s breathing was still that same shallow rhythm that made her own lungs tighten. How long would the medicine take to work? Minutes? Hours?

At long last, the sounds of voices and bootsteps drifted from downstairs. Robert’s voice carried through the house, then the deeper rumble of the doctor’s response.

Both men finally appeared in the doorway. The doctor moved past Robert without hesitation and went straight to the bed. He set his bag on the chair beside the pack and leaned over Nathan, studying his face with the same scrutiny he’d used with Kate.

“You said malaria?” The doctor pressed two fingers against Nathan’s wrist, and his lips moved a little as he counted.

“He did.” Bea gestured toward the tin on the table. “He asked for quinine. We gave him this mixed with molasses.”

The doctor nodded and opened Nathan’s mouth to peer inside. “You’ve had malaria before, I presume?”

This question was obviously intended for Nathan, but he couldn’t answer until the doctor released his jaw.

“Yes.” His voice didn’t rasp as much this time. Could the medicine already be working? “Comes back every few months.”

The doctor straightened and pulled Nathan’s eyelid back with his thumb, peering at the redness there. “The dormant form then. It returns periodically when the body is under stress or exhaustion.”

Clara’s chest tightened. A sickness that came back over and over again? That could strike without warning, turning a man into this fevered, weakened version of himself?

“How long will it last?” Bea asked.

The doctor released Nathan’s eye and stepped back. “With the quinine, the fever should break in about five days. Perhaps sooner if his body remembers how to fight it.” He eyed the tin she hadn’t yet closed. “You’ll be needing more, I assume. I have it in my clinic if one of you wants to follow me back.”

The brothers shifted, and Clara waited for one of them to volunteer. Someone had to go. Nathan needed more medicine—the doctor had just said so—and Robert had already ridden out once today.

“Enoch will go.” Mandie’s voice sounded from the hallway.

She stood with little Catherine balanced on her hip, her dark eyes fixed on her husband. Something passed between them—not quite a challenge, not quite a plea. Just the kind of look that married people seemed to share when they’d already had a conversation without words.

Enoch’s jaw worked once. His nostrils flared as he pulled in a breath.

“Please.” Mandie’s voice came softer this time.

The silence stretched until her chest ached with it. Why was he hesitating? Nathan needed the medicine. The doctor was waiting. It was such a simple thing—ride to town, collect the quinine, return.

Finally, Enoch gave a single nod. “I’ll go.”

The tension in the room eased a little, though not completely. Enoch moved toward the door without looking at Nathan again.

The doctor turned for his bag. “The fever may worsen before it improves. Keep him cool. Water and food, when he can take them. The quinine twice daily—morning and evening—until he’s been fever-free for at least a week.” He moved toward the door, then paused. “Send for me if he worsens considerably or if the fever hasn’t broken by the fifth day.”

Bea inclined her head. “We will. Thank you, doctor.”

James and Thomas followed the doctor out, leaving a quietness in the room.

Bea pressed a wet cloth to Nathan’s forehead. “I stay with him. Make sure he rests.”

Rose took a step back. “I suppose I should finish the potatoes then.”

Kate’s tea. In all the chaos, it had slipped her mind. “I need to make Kate the tea the doctor left for her.”