The curly blond head on the pillow nodded almost imperceptibly and Lynn stomped up the stairs and out into the late morning air. Dead grass showed in large patches around the yard, and Lynn had to walk a ways from the house to find a clean patch of white snow to freshen her mouth with.
The sporadic, panicked tracks of a rabbit tore across the yard at one point, nearly obliterated by the blundering leaps of the coyote that had chased it. Lynn was in no hurry to force Lucy out of bed to face Neva, so she took her time tracking the two animals, curious to see if the rabbit had managed to escape. A patch of blood a mile from the house told her it hadn’t. Lynn rested under the trees and watched two blue jays bickering. Their harsh voices bounced off the snow, masking the sound of Stebbs’ approach.
“Hey there,” he said, leaning against the tree with her. “Not used to seeing you out alone.”
“Lucy’s back at the house.” Lynn nodded toward the roof in the distance. “I thought I’d give her some time to . . .”
“Think things over?” Stebbs suggested.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Looks like maybe you’re doing the same.”
“Maybe.” Lynn rubbed the stock of her rifle, but the gun didn’t bring the comfort it used to. “Best head back, I suppose.”
Stebbs fell into step beside her and they walked in companionable silence until they reached her pond. “Quite the melt,” he commented. “Your pond’s high. I see you’ve still got ice on the edges though.”
“Can’t skate anymore. Lucy’ll be disappointed.”
“It’ll freeze over again, before the winter’s over.”
Without commenting on it, Lynn noticed that Stebbs was struggling against the snow with his lame leg. She leaned against the house under the cover of a large pine, and he joined her, his breath coming a little faster than usual.
“When you expecting Eli and Neva?”
“Don’t know. He said sometime this afternoon, but I slept in quite a bit and then went out tracking for a while. I imagine they’ll be along soon enough. I told Lucy I’d be in sight of the house. If she wanted to find us, she could have. I told her Neva was coming last night, and she didn’t take it so well.”
“It’s understandable.”
“Yeah well, maybe, but I don’t want Neva bent out of shape about it. Or Lucy mad at me, for that matter.”
“Want me to go down and try?”
“Better hurry,” Lynn said, nodding toward the west, where Eli’s and Neva’s figures could be made out. Stebbs lumbered to his feet and disappeared inside.
Neva broke into the side yard ahead of Eli, poked a finger into the side of the half-melted snowman by the wood cord and smiled. Eli nodded and said something to her, but it was lost in a cry from the basement.
“Shit! Lynn! Get down here!”
The urgency in Stebbs’ voice sent Lynn reeling down the stairs where he was cradling Lucy in his arms, her entire form limp, and her closed eyes red-rimmed with fever. “How long has she been like this?” Lynn stared dumbfounded at the unconscious Lucy. “Lynn!”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know! I thought she was sleeping. I haven’t been back down here since I woke up.”
Two sets of feet pounded down the stairs, and Eli fell forward into the basement, Neva close behind him. “What? What is it?”
Neva’s hands flew to her mouth when she saw Lucy, tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. “Give her to me,” she said.
Stebbs handed her over carefully and Neva cradled the light head against her own dark one, rocking her slowly back and forth. “What happened, baby? What’s wrong?”
There was no answer.
There was a light touch on Lynn’s shoulder. “She’s not . . . not gone, is she?”
“No,” Stebbs answered Eli. “There’s a pulse, but it’s light.”
“What happened? When did she get sick?”
“I don’t know,” Lynn said, her voice shaking. “She crawled into bed with me last night and I thought she was fine, but she didn’t want to get up. . . . Shit, I’m so sorry, Neva. I didn’t know.”
Neva waved away the apology. “Get me a cloth,” she said as she laid Lucy back on the cot. “We’ve got to break this fever.”
Stebbs looked in amazement at his own hands, still hot to the touch from holding Lucy. “She’s burning up.”
His words caused a panic in Lynn’s mind, dredging up memories of bodies without bullet holes strewn across the fields, bodies that the buzzards wouldn’t touch. Cholera burned through people so quickly they died in their tracks, wandering in a haze toward a water source that Mother wouldn’t let them near. One man had veered away from the pond and hailed Mother from the yard. Lynn had clutched onto her tightly, fear of the stranger digging her little fingers deep into Mother’s tanned skin.
He’d begged for water, pleading that he was not ill like the others and would not contaminate the pond. Mother had refused and sent him off with a warning. Hours later he was back, shit streaking his legs and begging for a bullet instead. This time, Mother had granted his request.