He didn't sound angry, just stern. But that didn't stop the dread curling inside her.
As she stepped out of the shed, she tried to avoid looking at the gun. Surely he didn't mean to point it at her. He just hadn't realized what he was doing.
She worked for a smile. Though he was nearly as tall as Jericho, he’d always seemed kind. Gentle. Not foreboding as he looked now. "I'm sorry, Jude. I didn't mean to intrude. I just saw the shed and was curious. I thought those crates held supplies you were keeping for the winter."
His gaze softened and, finally, he lowered the gun."It's just. Well…a place we store things."
She considered the answer—and how vague it was. He motioned for her to walk up the slope, then fell into step beside her.
It seemed he wouldn’t offer more details about the colored stones unless she asked. If she didn’t say something now, the fact that she knew would always stand between the two of them.
She had to ask. "What are those rocks that were in the crates?" Even as she spoke, she wanted to curl into herself. Would he be furious that she’d snooped?
"That's something you'll need to ask Jericho." His tone sounded curt, and he said nothing else.
Hiking up the steep slope was taking her breath, which might be a good thing. She should drop the topic with Jude. Maybe she'd have a quiet moment when she could ask his elder brother.
Jude seemed intent on escorting her back to the house, for as they stepped into the woods, he strode purposefully beside her along the narrow wagon road. For several minutes, they walked in silence.
Then he finally spoke. "How is he?"
She couldn't help a sigh as the weight she'd been trying to escape pressed back over her. Should she tell Jude her true fears? It seemed cruel to lay on him the burdens she carried, but she also needed to be candid. She'd never struggled in the past when speaking of a patient's condition with family members. With this family, she'd become too personally invested.
Her eyes burned. She had to warn him what could happen. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm worried."
He slid her a sideways look, then turned his focus forward again. After another minute, he let out his own sigh. "I'm afraid to ask if you think…he might not…"
Tears sprang to her eyes again. She did her best to fight them back. "I don't know. His case is severe. He was strong at the start but… I don't know." She looked at him. "We need to pray."
An idea pressed through her, filling her chest with certainty. "All of us. We need to pray."
She lengthened her stride, and he did the same. "Where are your brothers? Can we call them in?" She glanced over to gauge his reaction. They would miss work time, but Jericho's life was worth a vast sum more than that.
He looked hesitant. "I guess so." He slowed and turned, raising his hands to cup his mouth.
He loosed a shrill whistle, so loud she nearly clamped her hands to her ears. It's low-high-low sound echoed across the mountainside. The others surely heard it.
He sounded the whistle once more in that same three-note blast. Then he turned and continued up the path, quickening his step and lengthening his stride. "They'll be coming. Best we get to the house to meet them."
She had to trot to keep up, which left her no breath to ask if his signal was a specific alert of danger or a general call. Just knowing Jericho was ill and receiving that summons would be enough to worry his brothers.
She pressed a hand to the stitch in her side as she and Jude reached the ranch yard. Sean and Gilead were dismounting their horses, and a thunder of hoofbeats sounded from the path the men took to one of the lower pastures.
"What's wrong?" Gilead strode toward them, concern marking his features.
She raised a staying hand. "Nothing. Nothing new, I mean. We need you all to help though."
CHAPTER18
By the time they all gathered in the main room of the cabin, Dinah had caught her breath enough to speak better.
She scanned each of their gazes. Jericho's five brothers. His niece and nephew. Her own sister.
"The smallpox has hit Jericho hard. He was strong when he succumbed, but the sickness struck with more fierceness than usual. Maybe lack of sleep while we worked in the Salish village weakened him. I've been doing everything I can, including praying for him, but I think we all need to pray. Together." She could quote the Scriptures that told them to, but that might feel condescending.
She reached for Naomi's fingers on her left and Lillian's on her right. One by one, they clasped hands in a wide circle that included Jonah in the bed. "I'll pray first, then we can go around and each pray for what's weighing on our hearts."
Bowing her head, she did her best to settle her mind and focus on what she wanted most from the Lord. "Father. We need Your presence here among us. Your healing hand on Jericho. You've said where two or more are gathered together in Your name, You would be in our midst." So she did end up quoting the verse, but Jesus Himself prayed using Scripture. "We need You, Lord. Jericho needs You. I need You"—her voice cracked, and she scrambled to keep from revealing to much emotion—"to heal him." She squeezed Lillian's hand to let her know she could pray next.
