Since so many were sick, that tracked it back to exposure up to two weeks ago. How many others had been exposed? Peter would have to trace all contact with other villages, with people in Nome, with the gold camps. If he wasn’t careful, it could escalate out of control.
Exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. To prepare against.
Peter swiped a hand down his face. He scrubbed his hands in a fresh bowl of water, slathered them with soap, and scrubbed again. After rinsing them, he pulled a clean towel out of his bag and dried them before replacing the towel. If he was going to get ahead of this, he’d have to help everyone understand the severity of contagion. And how to reduce the spread with cleanliness.
At least he had come when he did. He could put Amka in charge of asking people if they had traveled and whom they’d been around.
He walked outside the tiny home he’d been in, where three little girls’ fevers were quite high. He breathed deep, needing the fresh air, and looked at the sky.
One thing he’d never tire of seeing was the auroras. They were fascinating. They had a soothing, calming quality about them. But the frigid chill in the air bit at him. He should have put on his coat.
“Dr. Peter, Dr. Peter ... come quick!” Amka ran toward him.
“What is it?” The woman was always so calm—something must be serious.Not one of the children, please, God.
“It’s Whitney. She collapsed!”
His stomach plummeted.
Peter rushed to follow Amka to where Whitney lay in the snow on the outskirts of the village. “What happened?”
Amka shrugged. “I do not know. She was driving the sled, I heard the dogs coming and came out here to help, but as soon as they stopped, she fell down. Right there.”
Kneeling beside Whitney, he pulled back her scarf and put a couple fingers to her neck to feel her pulse. Steady and strong, though it was slower than he liked.
Her cinnamon hair surrounded her face in a mass of curls. But her skin was paler than usual. Had she pushed herself too hard? Gotten enough rest? When was the last time she’d eaten?
All questions he needed to ask her...
Wait. Did this have anything to do with the tonic she’d been drinking? He leaned in a few inches and closed his eyes when he caught the smell.
He patted her face. “Whitney. Can you hear me? Wake up.”
She didn’t respond. So he patted her face with a bit more force.
She moaned, and her eyelids fluttered.
He glanced at Amka. “Quick. I need to get her somewhere warm. Can you take care of the dogs?” He lifted Whitney into his arms.
“Yes.” Amka nodded and spoke to the team in soothing tones. They were certainly on edge about their mistress.
Peter carried her to the small hut he was staying in. As soon as he set her down, she came to.
She gasped, then wiggled as fast as she could to get away from him. She leaned up against the wall and glanced around the hut. “Where are we?”
Peter sat on the floor several feet away from her. “At Amka’s village. This belongs to her family. You passed out.”
Her cheeks flamed red, and she pushed hair away from her face. “I thought it looked familiar.” As much as she tried to sound normal, Peter could see right through her. He’d spent enough time with her now to know her quirks.
“Have you been overly nervous of late, Whitney?”
She tilted her head as her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Anxious. Worried. Have you been eating and sleeping?”
“Of course I have. Now how are the villagers? The children?” She sat a little straighter and put a hand to the side of her head.
Peter stared at her. She couldn’t avoid the questions forever. “Is your head still bothering you?”
