A Quilt for Christmas (24 page)

What did he mean by that? Eliza wondered, then decided he was just making conversation. “It was our intention, Will's and mine, but we liked Kansas too well. Will thought the land the best he had ever seen for farming,” she replied. “I thought it a good place to raise a family. I could see my grandchildren living here one day.”

Daniel glanced up at a sound in the chicken coop and rose partway, but the noise stopped, and he sat back down. “What was he like, your Will?” he asked. Eliza paused as she thought over her answer, paused so long that Daniel said, “I am too forward. I'll say good night.”

Eliza held out her hand to stop him, but his back was to her. “No, I am not offended. I was trying to think how best to describe him.” She thought for a moment and began. “He was a steady man, slow to anger, but once aroused, he would not back down. He was a good man, and neighborly. There wasn't anybody who asked for help who didn't get it from Will. He worked as hard as you do, Mr. Judd, and you know what a fine farm this is. But mostly, I think of him as a good husband and father. You have seen for yourself how Davy mourns him.”

“Do
you
blame me for his death?” Daniel's voice was low, and there was a catch in it.

“No more than you blame Will for the death of your Mary.”

Daniel nodded, his back still to Eliza. “Funny, isn't it, how we fought each other for four years, and now we commiserate. We're not much different, Northerners and Southerners. We're husbands and wives and children, farmers, merchants, preachers.” He chuckled. “Preachers on the North and South, and each one saying as how God was on their side.”

“Maybe half of them were right,” Eliza said.

“You think he favored the North?”

“It might be said He was against slavery.” She thought a moment and added, “But no, I do not believe God takes sides. I believe He must have detested the war and wished we could have gotten along.”

“That's a God I'd like.”

Eliza pondered Daniel's words and said, “You haven't come to church with us, Mr. Judd. Do you not believe in God?”

“Oh, I believe. But perhaps I do not believe I'd find him in a Yankee church.” He stood and turned to Eliza. “I am only jesting, Mrs. Spooner. I know your friends and neighbors do not approve of my being here, and I do not want to cause trouble for you.”

“It is trouble I would bear, Mr. Judd.”

*   *   *

The threshing went well. The weather was fine, and the crew was efficient. Daniel and Davy worked almost as one, never arguing or disagreeing, Eliza observed. They made a good team, understanding without having to talk about each task. It was the way Davy had worked with Will. Despite Davy's claim that he was in charge, he and Daniel managed the threshers together. Eliza was pleased. Perhaps Davy was more accepting now, more forgiving of the Confederate. That would be good for both men.

The harvest, then, was a good one, better than Eliza had expected, and she thought perhaps their years of hardship were over.

And then on the last day of threshing, Davy stumbled on a rock in the field and fell in front of the threshing machine. The machine caught his arm and twisted it under him, and with a scream, Davy curled into a ball, senseless. Daniel turned in time to see the accident, and he scooped up the boy, running with him to the house. Sweat poured down Daniel's face and arms, and he was gasping for breath by the time he reached the barnyard. “Mrs. Spooner,” he yelled, but Eliza had gone out into the stubble of the field and did not hear him. He rang the dinner bell, then carried Davy into the house and laid the boy on Eliza's bed. Two of the threshing crew had followed and stood in the doorway not sure what to do.

“Build up the fire. Heat water,” Daniel ordered, as he ripped off Davy's shirt to examine the arm. It was bloody and bruised, and bones penetrated the skin. Daniel moved the arm to make sure it was still in its socket, and Davy moaned. “Steady, boy,” Daniel muttered.

As Daniel straightened the arm, Eliza rushed into the room. “I heard the bell. Is it one of the threshers?” she asked, as she hurried to the bed. Then she blanched and put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, dear God, it's Davy. How bad is he hurt?”

“Plenty bad. It's his arm. It's broke in two places. He needs a doctor.”

“The one we have is an old sawbones and a drunk. I'd almost rather set the bones myself.”

“You know about such things?” Daniel asked.

Eliza shook her head. “Do you?”

“I've cared for dogs and horses, set their bones. I guess it's not so different.” Daniel wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “But they don't feel the pain like Davy will. Do you have any whiskey?”

Eliza thought, then shook her head. The Starks had taken the last of it.

One of the threshers stepped forward and took a pint bottle from his overalls. He held it out.

Daniel nodded his thanks, then told the man, “Hitch up Mrs. Spooner's buggy and fetch the doctor. Even drunk as a pigeon, he'll know more than I do.”

The doctor's office was next to the general store, with a sign reading
DR. FISH
, Eliza said.

The thresher nodded and hurried out.

Eliza moved to heat water, but the second thresher, having already built up the fire, was pouring water into an iron teakettle. He hung it on a crane, which he pushed over the fire.

“See if you can get the whiskey in him,” Daniel said. “He'll need it when I set the bones.”

Eliza nodded and lifted her son's head, pouring the whiskey into his mouth. Half of the liquid spilled, but some went down the boy's throat, too, and Davy coughed, then began moaning again.

“I need hot water and soap,” Daniel said. The thresher poured water from the kettle into a basin and brought it to Daniel. Eliza fetched the soap. “Might as well start with clean hands,” Daniel told them.

Eliza found cloths and used one to wipe Daniel's face. With the fire built up, the room was hot, almost stifling, and Daniel had been running.

He glanced up at Eliza and took a deep breath, then he slowly straightened Davy's arm and began pushing at the bones. “I'll need strips of cloth for bandages and a stick to hold the bones in place,” he said. Eliza began tearing the cloths, while the thresher ran to the kindling pile for a stick. Daniel told him to pour boiling water over, for it might have dirt or bugs.

Davy groaned, and once he sat up and cried out. The boy was delirious, Daniel told Eliza, as she pushed her son back down on the bed. He had seen such delirium at Rock Island. Daniel gritted his teeth, then slipped the bones into place. He took a deep breath, and still holding the arm, he slid a cloth under it. “I would not want to soil your quilt,” Daniel said.

“The quilt be damned!” Eliza told him, not even shocked by words she had never thought to utter, especially at the ruination of her favorite quilt, the Rain and Sunshine quilt that had been her wedding present to Will.

The two worked together quietly, Daniel wrapping the arm while Eliza handed him the bandages and then the stick. They were finished by the time the thresher returned with the doctor.

Eliza was surprised to see them so soon and remarked on it. “Oh, I didn't take your buggy. There was a mule out there, and I jumped on him. He acted like he'd never been rid hard before,” the thresher told her.

“He hasn't,” Eliza said.

“Well, he has now.”

The doctor went to the bed and asked, “What seems to be the trouble with this young man? Malingering at harvesttime, is he?”

“My son has broken his arm, and Mr. Judd set it,” Eliza replied stiffly.

“A doctor, are you?” Dr. Fish asked.

“No,” Daniel replied.

Dr. Fish examined the arm, turning it back and forth, making Davy cry out. “Well, you might as well be. Good as if I done it myself. Ought to have a sling, though.”

“Will he be all right?” Eliza asked.

The doctor shrugged. “I imagine he'll have use of the arm. It's bringing down the fever you got to worry about. Put out the damn fire so it don't get too hot in here. Give the boy water and put cold cloths on his head.” He glanced at the pint bottle on the table, picked it up, and took a swallow. “I wouldn't be giving him too much of this unless it's for the pain. Alcohol ain't good for a fever.” He started to put the bottle into his pocket, but the thresher stepped forward and claimed it. “Oh, my mistake,” the doctor said.

Daniel walked Dr. Fish out the door, then returned, Luzena a few steps behind him. She had been taking water to the threshers and had not heard the bell. Until she saw the doctor's horse, she hadn't known anything was wrong.

Eliza held out her arms to her daughter, who rushed into them. “Davy's broken his arm,” she said, hoping Luzena would not catch the worry in her voice.

“And Dr. Fish set it.”

“Mr. Judd did.”

“Then why did he pay the doctor?” Luzena asked.

*   *   *

Daniel finished up with the threshing crew, then saw to the animals. While Daniel was milking, the head of the crew came into the house, removed his hat, and inquired about Davy.

“He's well as might be expected, thanks to Mr. Judd and two of your men who came to help.”

“Little enough we could do.”

“I must pay you for the threshing,” Eliza said, going to the pie safe where she kept her money.

“Oh, your husband already done it,” the man said. “I just come to check on the boy.”

“He paid you?”

The man nodded, while Eliza wondered when Daniel had gotten the money. He must have seen her put it into the pie safe and taken it out. But when she opened the door of the cupboard she saw that her money was still there.

“We sure would like to do your threshing next year,” the man said, and smiled. “And I won't charge extra for staying on like I done this time. In fact, if I'd knowed what a worker your husband was, I'd have bid a lower price.”

“He is my hired man,” Eliza corrected, and then she wondered what he meant by “charge extra.” “Exactly how much did he pay you?”

The man gave a figure that was half again what Daniel had told her the work would cost.

“I see,” Eliza said, frowning, although she didn't see. Why had Daniel committed her to such a high price?

“About next year…”

She would wait until she found out how good the next year's crop was, Eliza said.

*   *   *

Daniel offered to take the first watch with Davy that night, but Eliza told him she would sit with her son. She knew Daniel would be tired from his work with the threshing crew, as well as caring for Davy. She could see he was exhausted.

“I'll sleep a little while, then relieve you,” he said, and left the house.

Eliza lit a candle and pulled a chair close to the bed. Luzena called down from the loft, “Mama, do you want me to sit with Davy while you rest?”

Eliza told her to go to sleep, that she'd sit and read her Bible. She smoothed the quilt over the boy, a fresh quilt. Luzena had removed the soiled one and soaked it in cold salt water. But that had not removed the stain, so in the morning, Eliza would rub it with cornstarch. She did not worry much about the quilt, however. After all, quilts were made to be used up, even those such as the Rain and Sunshine that had been made for special occasions. Instead, she dipped a cloth into a basin of water on the floor beside her and wiped Davy's brow. He stirred but did not awaken. She studied her son's face in the candlelight, noting that it was no longer the face of a boy but of a young man. She smiled to see how Davy had grown a mustache so pale and slight that she had not noticed it before, and remembered Will at that age, half boy, half man.

She intended to read her Bible, but she thought of Will's letters and decided to read one of them instead—one of the last he had written. So she removed it from the candle box and sat down next to the fire, holding the paper in the firelight.

December 7, 1864

Dear Wife

This will be short. We marched in the rain past Rebel graves washed clean of dirt so that I saw the hands of the dead sticking out as if beseeching me to pray for them. We will rest in the mud for an hour, then march on. I write so that I do not fall asleep, for if I do, I will not wake until doomsday. Tired, very tired. My bones ache & I have a little fever. Bullets were flying thick yesterday & we have not slept in more than two days. May God watch over me this time of terrible war.

The order is given to move on. I send my love & wish it would warm you as your quilt does me.

Your Husband

William T. Spooner

Eliza returned the letter to the candle box and sat down next to Davy, her head on the bed. She had intended to rest only a little, but she fell asleep and did not wake until she felt a hand touch her arm. She sat up suddenly, thinking Davy had need of her, but it was Daniel's hand that had awakened her. “I did not mean to startle you,” he said.

“What's the hour?”

“Not yet dawn.”

Eliza stood up quickly and examined Davy. The boy's breathing was ragged but he slept. She reached for the cloth to wipe his forehead, but his face was damp, and Daniel said he had washed the boy's face.

“While I slept?”

“No need to wake you. I only just came in. I thought you might like to go up to the loft and lie down. Your back will hurt from sleeping the way you did.”

But Eliza was awake and said she would sit a bit longer so as not to disturb Luzena. “That is, unless you're wanting to eat.” In the turmoil of the day before, they had not had supper.

Daniel shook his head. He carried a chair to the other side of the bed and sat down on it, then reached across the quilt and took Eliza's hand. They stayed like that until dawn showed through the window, and Eliza rose to prepare breakfast.