It had ceased being comical several days ago. And she was tired of chasing chickens around.
Thankfully, she’d gotten the door closed before any of the others tried to follow, but when the chicken didn’t listen to her scolding, she refused to run after it.Again.
Angry Bird ran across the top of the deep snow, over the fence, and into the next pasture. The dark-feathered chicken looked over her shoulder at Havyn and kept on running.
“Fine. Go ahead and run away. I’ll have to deal with a lot less trouble without you around.” Havyn threw her words at the feisty hen. It wasn’t like the girl wouldn’t come back for food.
The baby chose that moment to move again, and Havyn looked down at her stomach and laughed. “You like it when I scold the chickens, huh? Well, just wait—one day that will be your job too.”
With a rub to her belly, she let out an easy breath and carried the empty feed pail back to the barn. As much as she loved her chickens, she realized as soon as she found out she had a baby growing within her how much she would love this child. She’d wanted to be a mother—just like her own—since she was about sixteen years old.
If only her baby could have met Mama. Her heart twinged. Her eyes stung. Blast ... more tears. Pregnancy had made the waterworks nonstop.
No. She wouldn’t allow the grief to tamp down her joy of carrying a life.
At least she could share all the stories so her mother wouldn’t be forgotten. That brought a smile back to her face. Millions of memories and things her mother taught her could be shared with this next generation.
As she entered the house and took off her boots, a sense of urgency washed over her, and she shivered. “Maddy?” She headed to the parlor.
“I’m here.” Madysen sat with her cello in front of her.
Havyn put a hand to her cheek and sat on the piano bench. “Do you know where John and Daniel are?”
“They were in the milking pen with the sheep a little bit ago.” Her sister’s brow furrowed. “Why? What is it?”
Clutching both of her hands to her chest, Havyn closed her eyes. Her heart pounded. “It’s Whitney. For some reason, I feel like we need to stop and pray for her. Right now.”
Maddy put her instrument down and rushed to Havyn’s side. “I had the same sense a moment ago, but I didn’t realize what it was and was going to keep on practicing.”
Havyn put her arm around Maddy’s shoulder. “I don’t know what Whitney is facing right now, but we know she’s been struggling with pain and grief lately.”
“Then there’s the whiskey.” Her sister’s words were whispered.
“I know. I’ve been asking God how we can help her ... and now ... well, I feel the pressing need to pray for her like never before.”
“May we join you?” John’s voice came from the doorway.
She looked up, and her husband walked toward her with Daniel right behind him. “Yes. Please do.”
As the men settled in next to them, they joined hands.
Madysen started the prayer with Scripture, claiming God’s promise to guide them and give them a way out of temptation. As each one of them prayed for Whitney, they poured out their hearts. Asking for God’s will to be done, for her pain to be taken away, and for healing.
Little by little the pressure on Havyn’s chest lifted, and she lifted her tear-stained face toward the heavens. “Thank You, God, for giving us Whitney. We love her so much, but know that You love her even more than we could ever imagine. We’re asking for You to intervene right now. Whatever it isthat she is going through. Give her Your strength and Your peace to make it through.”
It took twenty minutes to reach the gold camp that Yutu’s friend had told them about. But as soon as they arrived, they knew something was very wrong.
Most of the men were sick.
Peter went to work immediately. Whitney followed him and helped however she could, but the stench was quite unbearable so she kept her scarf wrapped up around her nose and mouth.
They left one of the tents and breathed in the fresh air. Peter’s head shook back and forth in slow motion.
“It’s bad ... isn’t it?” She hated to voice the question, but she had to. What were they going to do?
“Much worse than anything at the village, but the symptoms seem to be along the same lines. Some of the men seem to have measles, while others appear to have influenza or dysentery.”
“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” She squared her shoulders. She’d do whatever she could to help this man who cared for people unlike anyone she’d ever known.
