Then Ruth fell off her chair and onto the floor.
TWENTY-TWO
Three days had passed since Ruth’s collapse. Now Daniel, Madysen, and Eli were sick as well. Peter stood over the basin as he washed his face. He’d used up the last of his tea on them.
Thankfully, Bethany was improving, but so far she was the only one. This respiratory influenza was taking its toll on the household. Thank God there was no sign of the measles. But the two so often seemed to go hand in hand with this new horrible sickness. Since 1900, how many lives had been lost?
He worried most about Ruth. After losing her husband and being separated from her children, she simply didn’t seem to have the will to live. But he needed her to fight––
“Peter?” Whitney’s voice came from behind him.
He turned and dried off his face with a towel. The weariness in her eyes must certainly match his own, but she had been so strong. At his side every moment he needed her. There was no denying his feelings for her had grown ever stronger—ever constant. One day—after this crisis was over—he’d tell her.
“We’re out of the vinegar as well as mustard.” They’d made so many poultices, it was no wonder.
He stepped closer to her. “Do you think you and your father can handle taking care of everyone here? That way I can run into town and restock from my office and the mercantile. I need to check on my patients in town as well.”
“Sure. Whatever you need.” She looked like she had more to say, but she clamped her lips shut. “Should I harness a team for you? I think you’ll be able to manage them just fine on your own.”
He reached up and moved a curl from her face. The smile in her eyes was enough to keep him energized for days. But as much as he wanted to bare his soul then and there, now was not the time. “Thank you. I appreciate your faith in me. I’ll head out right away.”
When he brushed past her in the doorway, their hands touched. She captured his fingers, squeezed them, then turned and walked away.
An hour later, he’d gathered up what he could from his office and loaded it on the dogsled. The pups had been perfect on the journey back to town. He headed to the mercantile Daniel’s father owned to see if they had more vinegar and mustard in stock.
As he entered the familiar building, he narrowed his eyes. The atmosphere was different. And Martin Beaufort wasn’t behind the counter. As Peter walked through the store and picked up what he needed, his eyebrows raised. What was going on with the prices?
He headed for the counter. A stranger stood behind the counter, wearing an apron and helping a customer.
“But why is it so much more?” The elderly gentlemanheld out a sack of beans. “I’ve been buying the same bag of beans for years!”
“With new management came new pricing. It costs a lot of money to get supplies up here. That’s why Mr. Beaufort lost the business. He couldn’t make his payments.”
Peter couldn’t believe his ears. What was going on? Beaufort lost the business? That was odd. Daniel hadn’t said anything about that. What if he didn’t know? And who owned the mercantile now? When his turn came, he stepped up to the counter. “I couldn’t help but overhear. You say there’s new management?”
“Yes, sir.” The man smiled.
“Might I inquire who it is?”
“Of course, sir. Mr. Reynolds owns it now. He loaned Beaufort money to keep the store afloat for over a year. When the man couldn’t pay, the ownership reverted to Mr. Reynolds.”
Peter clamped his jaw shut. So Reynolds was behind this.
He handed the man behind the counter his list. He’d pay the extra charges for now and figure out what to do later. “Can you load these things onto the dogsled outside the door?”
“Yup.” The clerk took the paper and looked over the list.
Peter headed for the door. “I’ll pay you when I get back.”
He walked out of the store and went to the house behind it. He prayed Martin and Granny still had a place to stay, at least. After he knocked on the door, a cough greeted him from inside.
He opened the door. “Hello? Everyone all right?” He made his way into the parlor and found Granny sitting in a rocking chair, a quilt up to her chin.
“Sorry, Doc. I’m not feeling too well.”
He rushed to her side.
“Don’t be concerned about me. Martin’s the one who’s really sick.” She pointed to the back of the house.
