LITMIR.BIZ

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their manners by the wayside, grabbing huge portions and wiping their mouths on the tablecloth. The serving platters were already empty.

      Delbert Perry looked up from the biscuit he’d been buttering. “Evenin’, Miss Maude. Mrs. Meyer said you was t’come upstairs soon’s you got in—somethin’ about the little mother havin’ a fever.”

      Fear seized Maude’s heart with fingers of ice. April Mae was so weak after the birth. If a fever set in strongly, would she have the energy to fight it? Without saying another word, she turned and dashed into the hallway then fairly few up the stairs without pausing to acknowledge what Perry called after her— “Th’ doctor’s been sent for.”

      Little Hannah slept in the cradle, a thumb firmly planted in her mouth.

      Mrs. Meyer looked up from where she was bent over the bed, a cloth in her hand. “Oh, Maude, I’m so thankful you’re here. Sarah Walker thought her husband might be home any minute now, but—”

      If the older woman finished her sentence, Maude wasn’t aware of it. Her eyes flew to April Mae’s flushed cheeks, her overbright eyes and the pearls of perspiration beading her pallid forehead. Her heart sank at how fragile and exhausted the girl looked already.

      “She’s burnin’ up with fever,” Mrs. Meyer said unnecessarily. “And every so often, she starts shakin’ fit to rattle the bed frame apart.”

      Maude didn’t have to reach out a confirming hand to the new mother’s forehead to believe it. “April Mae, when did you start feeling ill?” Maude asked, careful to keep her voice calm, even though her spirit quailed within her. Childbed fever—the dreaded sequel to so many births, the cause of so many deaths among new mothers. She thought back to the few preparations she had had time to do in the too-brief span of minutes from the girl’s arrival to the delivery, procedures her father had always insisted were essential—washing her hands, placing clean linens under the laboring girl, boiling the knife that had cut the cord in a pot of water...

      Had she done enough? Had she left out some essential step that would have protected April Mae from the fever that racked her now? She couldn’t think of any precaution she’d omitted, but it had been a long time since she’d assisted at a delivery and her memories of those births were not as crystal clear as they had once been. The thought that she might be in some way responsible for the state that April Mae was in left her feeling sick herself.

      “I started havin’ chills this mornin’ after you left for the café, Miss Maude,” April Mae said. “Then I got so hot...an’ my belly hurts...”

      Maude kept her expression blank. “Then we’ll just work on getting that fever down. I’m sure Dr. Walker will have something to make your belly feel better, too, when he gets here.” She couldn’t remember her father ever having lost a patient to childbed fever, or Dr. Walker, either, though, so she didn’t know what that “something” would be. Laudanum? And what about Hannah—what did this all mean for her? Would it be safe for the baby to continue to nurse while her mother was battling this illness, especially if April Mae was given laudanum?

      Telling the girl they’d be right back, she motioned for Mrs. Meyer to follow her out into the hall.

      “It’s bad, isn’t it?” the boardinghouse proprietress said.

      Maude nodded. She felt like a fool for having gone to work at the café as usual. She should have known this was a birth prone to such an infection, what with April Mae’s youth and her long, hard journey to reach Simpson Creek. She should have remained at the boardinghouse and stayed vigilant.

      “Mrs. Meyer, do you know of any woman around Simpson Creek who might be nursing a baby right now?”

      The older woman’s eyes grew wide at the implication of her question. “You think she’s going to die.”

      Maude shook her head. “I hope not, but I don’t know if it’s safe for the baby to nurse if Dr. Walker gives April Mae a sedative.”

      Mrs. Meyer pursed her lips. “No, I can’t think of anyone...”

      Just then they heard the door open below. A glance over the stair railing brought the welcome sight of Dr. Nolan Walker entering the house.

      Within moments he had been introduced to April Mae, washed his hands and examined her, his expression becoming more and more grave as he went on. “You’re giving her willow bark tea to reduce the fever?” he asked Maude.

      “I did,” Mrs. Meyer said, “an hour ago.”

      “Good.” He turned back to April Mae. “I’m going to give you a mild dose of laudanum to help you sleep.”

      Once he’d done that, he indicated that Maude was to follow him from the room. They descended the stairs and went into the parlor so that April Mae couldn’t overhear.

      “She’s very seriously ill,” he said. “I think you know that.”

      Maude nodded. She had known, but to hear Doctor Walker say so, and see his solemn expression, stole her breath. She had hoped that the doctor’s knowledge and expertise would offer some easy solution that was out of her grasp—some way to make April Mae’s situation less tenuous.

      “As you probably know, there’s not a whole lot we can do but treat the fever and try to keep the patient taking in fluids—and pray,” he added. “All of which you’re doing already, I know.”

      Walker’s faith in her warmed Maude, but she had no time to take comfort in it.

      “What about the baby, Dr. Walker? Is it safe for her to nurse from her mother, especially with the laudanum April Mae has taken?”

      Walker rubbed his chin. “It would probably be better if she didn’t, until—unless—this infection starts to get better.”

      “Do you know anyone who could...feed the baby?” Maude said. Men and women ordinarily didn’t discuss such intimate things, but she’d grown up with a doctor as a father and she knew this was no time to be prim. The baby’s well-being was at stake, and that was more important than some silly notion of propriety.

      Walker looked thoughtful. “I’ve just returned from the deathbed of a young man, a Tejano who lived just outside Simpson Creek—that’s why I wasn’t able to come when Miss Horvath’s baby was born. His unexpected demise sent his wife into labor just after her husband died, and unfortunately her child came too early and was stillborn.”

      “How awful!” Maude said, feeling a rush of sympathy for the unknown girl as she tried to imagine surviving the loss of husband and baby in the same day. “Would she... Do you think she would agree to come and feed April Mae’s baby? Would she be able to—would she have milk?”

      “There’s one way to find out,” he said. “The widow just happens to be Deputy Menendez’s sister. He and their mother are at his sister’s home with her right now. I could send Sheriff Bishop out to ask if she would be willing to come into town and provide for this baby. I’ll go do that, and let my wife know I’ll be attending Miss Horvath tonight, then I’ll be back.”

      Silently, Maude sent up a quick but grateful prayer, thanking the Lord that Doctor Walker knew someone who might be willing to serve as a wet nurse, and also that the doctor would be helping her care for April Mae tonight. She felt the sensation of a great burden sliding off her shoulders.

      Just then a thin infant wail drifted down from upstairs. Maude felt her heart go out to the baby, so new to the world and yet so alone in it, and silently promised herself that the tiny girl would not lack for care and comfort in the next few days, no matter what happened to Hannah’s mother. Maude herself would see to that.

      * * *

      Despite all their prayers and Doctor Walker’s skill, April Mae Horvath slipped into eternity two mornings later.

      “God rest her soul,” murmured Juana Benavides as Doctor Walker closed April Mae’s eyes. Dressed in mourning, she was the young widow who had—to Maude’s enormous

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