Prairie Courtship. Dorothy Clark
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an increased pallor, an involuntary wince and tightening of her sister’s face that had alerted her to Anne’s worsened condition.
Emma gripped the seat harder. Sometimes Anne’s quiescence made her want to shake her. She and William, cousin Mary, even Mary’s pastor had tried to reason with Anne, but none of them could sway her from her notion that her pain was deserved punishment for surviving the accident that had claimed the lives of her husband and baby. It made treating her more difficult. Anne did not want to get better.
Emma heaved a long sigh and released her grasp on the edge of the seat as the wagon followed the Lewis vehicle into the familiar circle and stopped. Across the oval, the source of her concern and frustration rode into view behind her halted wagon and dismounted, her movements slow and careful. Clearly riding was irritating Anne’s injuries, but being tossed around in the wagon was little better. Oh, if only Anne had listened to reason, at this moment they would both be aboard one of their uncle Justin’s steamboats on their way home to Philadelphia with William and Caroline! Home to the bosom of their family where Anne would receive the love and attention she needed.
A sick feeling washed over her. Emma swallowed hard, faced the thought that had been pushing at her all day. Perhaps she did not possess the skills needed to be a good doctor. She did not know what more to do for Anne. Or for little Jenny. Her learning was but a poor substitute for Papa Doc’s medical experience, or her feisty temperament for their mother’s patient, loving care.
“Mama? Maaaamaaaa!”
Jenny! Emma whipped around and scurried over the red box into the wagon, all speculation about her possible inadequacy forgotten at the toddler’s frightened wail.
“Shhh, Jenny, shhh. Everything is all right.” She smiled and patted the little blanket-covered shoulder. Round blue eyes, bright with tears, stared up at her. She studied their clear, focused gaze, held back the shout of relief and joy swelling her chest. The toddler’s tiny lower lip protruded, trembled. She touched it with her fingertip and shook her head. “No, no. I will get your mama for you. But you must not cry, Jenny. It is not good for you to cry.”
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