Chapter Five

Hannah tip-toed away from Guthrie's bed. The youngest McFadden had drank half a glass of lemonade and managed to keep it down. He finally admitted he had a "really bad" headache. But when Hannah pushed him to take something for it, he told her his throat was raw and he didn't think he could swallow any pills. Hannah could have kicked herself for not thinking of that. The kid had been throwing up for hours; it made sense his throat burned from the acid. She didn't suggest medication again, she just rubbed his back until he fell into an uneasy doze.

The family first-aid kit was kept, for some reason, in the laundry room. Hannah pulled it off a shelf. It was a big one, in what looked like an old fishing tackle box or something, maybe an old tool kit. It was rather amazingly well-stocked, although maybe she shouldn't be surprised. A ranching family with seven active boys probably had more than their share of bumps, bruises, scrapes and the like.

There was a laminated card in the top of the box. It looked like someone had torn the page out of the Red Cross handbook that listed what should be in a first aid kit and had mounted it on a sturdy piece of cardboard. On the reverse side it said Crane McFadden, Ninth grade Health project. So that explained that. And it looked like, since Crane had put together the kit years ago, that they had added to it as it fit their needs. There were bandages and Band-Aids in various sizes; two rolls of gauze and medical tape; generic bottles of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide and witch hazel. In the top tray, a new tube of antibiotic ointment nestled next to a small bottle of ipecac syrup, scissors, a package of sterile needles, containers of dental floss and fine silk thread, anti-itch cream, and – Hannah shuddered – a commercial snake bite kit. She really hoped that was in there as a precaution and not as something they had ever needed.

There was a large bottle of aspirin and a somewhat smaller bottle of Johnson's orange baby aspirins, and – she was relieved to see – a bottle of liquid Tylenol. There was also a newspaper clipping folded and creased, about the incidence of Rye's Disease in children given aspirin when they had the flu. Someone in the family apparently paid attention to things like that. Hannah had already thought of it and dismissed any worry: she was certain Guthrie didn't have the traditional flu and his fever wasn't that high. The liquid Tylenol would help – hopefully – ease his headache.

She also found a tiny jar labelled "Tiger Balm" and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans. She knew first-hand how the ointment could ease a pounding headache.

She started into the kitchen to try to figure out – again – what to fix for supper when she heard her named yelled shrilly from outside. Hannah raced to the door and ran out onto the porch.

Daniel and Evan were coming up from the barn and Daniel had his arm wrapped around Evan, helping him. Evan was limping and blood soaked through a tear in his jeans at the knee.

Daniel was panicking. He called her name again in that nervous high voice that was so unlike his usual harmonious tones. When he saw her, he tried to move Evan faster. "Hannah! Evan fell. He sliced his knee open on the edge of a shovel. He's bleeding!"

As if Hannah had maybe failed to notice that.

"Daniel it's okay," Evan tried to tell him.

"It's not okay! You're bleeding. You could get lockjaw or something!"

Hannah held the door open as Daniel helped his brother into the kitchen and eased him to a chair at the table. Evan's face was pale, but for some reason, Daniel was even whiter. He stepped back and rubbed his hands on his jeans nervously. "What do we need to do? What should I do? I can call the doctor!"

Hannah didn't quite know why Daniel was so upset. Yes, it was a nasty slice, but it wasn't like Evan had lost a limb, and surely Daniel had seen worse injuries around the ranch. He had a point about the lockjaw though. "Evan when was your last tetanus shot?"

"Last year," Daniel responded before Evan could even open his mouth. "When he cut his hand on a nail."

"Daniel –" Evan started again.

"I'll get Crane!" Daniel said, whirling and running out of the room.

"Don't –" But Daniel was already gone. Evan shot a glance at Hannah. "Sorry about that," he said, shaking his head. "Daniel gets a little… um, upset when one of us bleeds."

"Does the sight of blood freak him out?" Hannah asked, soaking a washcloth and using it to clean up the blood welling from the injury. People were afraid of blood, even people that you never expected it from. She remembered working a blood drive in college and how one of the tight ends of the football team – a huge, normally cheerful guy – passed out cold when he caught sight of his own blood spilling into the bag.

"Not really. I mean… he plays football and soccer and his own blood doesn't bother him." Evan looked like he was searching for the right words. "It's only if it's one of us. Brian broke his arm last year when he and Daniel were the only ones out in the pasture and Daniel freaked out once he got him home." He paused, then went on quietly. "I think it has to do with Mom and Dad."

"Oh," Hannah said. She knew their parents were dead – Adam had told her that much her first day on the ranch, but she didn't know how it had happened. She'd wondered, but hadn't found a good way to ask.

"They died in a car accident," Evan said, again seeming to read her thoughts. He sighed. "Daniel saw it. Well, not the accident itself. He was spending the night with Cody Wheeler – Cleo's older brother. It was Cody's birthday and his folks were taking everybody into Sonora to see a movie. They came up on the accident not too long after it happened. Mr. Wheeler had a CB in his truck and he called for an ambulance but… they said later they probably…you know, right away." He swallowed hard. "Mrs. Wheeler tried to keep Daniel away but he saw… he doesn't talk about it now. But he had nightmares about it for a long time afterwards."

Hannah couldn't imagine how Daniel lived with that pain. Her own father had died in the hospital. She'd been taken in to see him near the end, to say goodbye. It was her saddest memory.

But her dad had been sick for a long time before he died. And he'd been in a hospital; really he'd just looked like he was sleeping. To see your parents – who'd been alive, vital, just hours before – like that, crushed and torn, bleeding… she could understand why Daniel had nightmares. The miracle was that he'd ever stopped.

Hannah didn't know what to say to Evan, but right then Crane wobbled into the room. He took a quick look at Evan. "How bad is it?" he asked Hannah.

"Bad enough," she admitted. "But I don't think he'll need stitches. We probably need to call the doctor though, see if he thinks he needs a tetanus booster." She rose to her feet. "I'll get the first aid kit."

Crane dropped unsteadily into a chair and rubbed a hand across his tired face. "Thanks," he said, his voice ragged. "Sorry about all this… you've had quite a day of McFadden emergencies. I promise you that this isn't a normal day around here!"

"Where's Daniel?" Evan asked, craning his neck to look into the living room.

"I told him to get Guthrie upstairs and tucked into bed," Crane answered. "He does better with puke than he does with blood, any day."

7Bf7B

The McFadden family doctor – a tall, elderly man that Hannah remembered from the square dance at the county fair – arrived just as the storm picked up again, with rain lashing at the windows and wind wailing around the corners of the house.

Dr. M – as Crane introduced him – complimented Hannah on her bandaging job before removing it to inspect Evan's knee. After wrapping it up again, he injected the tetanus booster into Evan's arm. He pulled out another hypodermic and said, "Antibiotics, Evan… you know the drill."

"Ah, Doc! I don't need any antibiotics," Evan protested.

"You cut your knee in a barn, young man. You do need antibiotics. Drop the jeans, please."

Evan flushed and looked at Hannah. Realizing he was embarrassed about undressing in front of her, Hannah smiled and turned to look nervously out at the worsening weather. By the time she turned back again, Evan was clothed again and rubbing his hip. Daniel, who had returned from upstairs somewhat calmer, was watching both Evan and Crane carefully. Dr. M counted out twenty capsules into a clean brown pill bottle and left them on the table. "Twice a day, for ten days. Take them all, Evan." He swung to look at Hannah. "Any red streaks, swelling, prurient drainage, or an elevated temperature: you call me right away, all right?"

Not sure why he was focusing on her, Hannah nodded her head anyway. "I know what to look for," she said.

"Good!" The doctor favored her with a smile. Then he turned to look at Crane. "And what seems to be the matter with you?"

Daniel jumped in before Crane could more than open his mouth. "He's got some kind of bug. So do Guthrie and Ford."

"It's going around," the doctor said. "Headache, nausea, vomiting, body aches, and diarrhea?"

Crane shot his own look at Hannah. "Well… yes."

Dr. M pulled out his stethoscope and a light from his black bag. "Any fever?"

"I don't think so," Crane answered.

"Ford has a fever," Daniel stated.

The doctor laid a hand on Crane's forehead, then the side of his face. "You have one, too, Crane. Low grade, but definitely there." He turned to look at Hannah again. "Not much I can do for it," he admitted. "Except treat the symptoms. Rest, fluids. Nothing heavy to eat, not that they'll probably be hungry for a few days. But it's important to keep well-hydrated." He stood up. "I'll go check on the other two but mostly, it just has to run its course. Keep an eye on the temperatures, though. A few people in town have developed a dangerously high fever with it, and we want to avoid that if possible." He fixed Crane with a look. "I don't want to hear about all the work on the ranch, or Ford's fear he'll fall behind if he misses a few days of school. You stay in bed, and help Hannah here keep the other two in bed, also, understand? And if anyone else in the family comes down with it, same thing."

Crane sighed. He nodded his head. "I've got it."

7Bf7B

"I'm worried about Adam and Brian," Hannah said, staring out the window at the lashing storm.

Daniel came to stand beside her. "I helped Crane back upstairs. Ford and Guthrie are both still asleep." He was quiet, joining Hannah in gazing out the window.

"They might have decided to wait out the storm at the cabin," Evan said from where he was still sitting at the dining room table, his injured leg propped up in another chair.

"Cabin?" Hannah repeated.

"More like a shack, really," Daniel said, still watching the storm. "Up in the high country. Our dad built it, back when Adam and Brian were babies." He turned around to look at Evan. "I don't think they'd stay up there. Not tonight. Not without saying something."

Evan shrugged. "Storm could have caught them."

"Maybe." Daniel didn't sound like he believed it.

Hannah pulled her gaze away from the window and walked over to sit next to Evan. "I never did get anything fixed for supper," she sighed. "Are you two hungry?"

She was surprised to find that she herself was hungry. But then, she'd never got to eat any lunch what with taking care of the sick ones.

"Hell, yeah I'm hungry!" Evan announced.

"We both forgot our lunches this morning," Daniel said.

Hannah groaned. "Crane was going to give them to you when he picked up Ford. But then… your lunches are probably still in the Jeep."

"Well, they were," Daniel admitted. "But they were pretty squashed and wet by the time we found them."

"What do you want to eat? And I probably should heat some soup for the sick guys," Hannah said. "Except, I can't find any. Are we out?" She'd looked in the pantry three times today, searching for the familiar red-and-white labels of Campbell's soup cans, and hadn't been able to find any.

Daniel looked surprised. "There's no chicken soup in the freezer?"

Hannah stared at him. "Why would it be in the freezer?"

"Because Brian makes big batches of it and keeps it in the freezer for when anybody's sick."

"Homemade soup?" Hannah said, realizing she sounded like a parrot. "Not Campbell's?"

"Nah," Evan said. "Brian really does make good chicken soup."

"I'll go look for some," Daniel said, heading to the back door. The wind caught the door out of his hand and it slammed against the wall. Hannah jumped.

"I'd go for a BLT," Evan said. "Or maybe three or four of them!"

Hannah had to laugh. "I have to admit, that sounds good. You're on, Evan!" She pulled a large skillet from the cupboard.

Daniel brought in two large, lidded plastic containers. "Here we go. One chicken soup, and there was still one tomato soup left. Brian needs to make some more."

Hannah started to get the idea now just why they had that huge garden outside, producing far more produce than even the McFaddens could eat fresh. Had Brian been the one to fill the pantry with all those Mason jars of home canned veggies?

Daniel ran hot water in the sink until steam frosted the window. He put both containers in the sink and watched the hot water cascade over them. Then he put two large pots on the stove and pried open the containers. He inverted them and shook them until frozen blocks of soup thudded into each pot. He shot her a grin as he turned on the burners. "Way this wind is blowing, I better go start a fire in the fire place, and bring the candles and kerosene lamps in here. Power could go out." He must have noticed the alarmed look on her face. "The stove's propane, so even if we lose the electric that'll be okay. The furnace is too, but it's got an electric igniter so it doesn't work if there's a power outage." He left the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Hannah," Evan said from the table, where he was slicing tomatoes for the sandwiches. "We lose power a lot in storms. We know what to do."

The bacon was starting to hiss in the pan. Hannah jerked her hand back as a splatter of grease burned her, and lowered the flame. She turned to look at Evan. She was really worried about Adam and Brian but she didn't want to let on to it. But looking at Evan, she had a feeling he knew. He gave her a warm smile. "They'll be okay," he said.

She had a feeling he knew, even better than she did, that bad things sometimes happened even to good people.

She hesitated. She wanted to know more about their parents, about how they'd died. How Adam and Brian – eighteen and what? Sixteen, maybe? Had managed to overcome their own grief and loss to raise their younger brothers. She'd tried to ask Adam, once or twice, but he never seemed to want to discuss it.

"Evan, how old were you when your parents died?"

He shot her a look. "What's Adam told you?"

"Nothing much," she admitted. "Just that they died about ten years ago. Until you mentioned it earlier, I didn't even know for sure it was a car accident."

He was quiet for so long she thought he wasn't going to answer. Just about the time she was going to apologize for even asking, he said, "It was their wedding anniversary. The twentieth. They always went out on their anniversary." He smiled wistfully. "I don't remember much, but I think I remember how she looked that night. She was wearing a dark blue dress and her hair was all curled. Usually she just pulled it back in a ponytail but that night it was fixed all fancy. And she was wearing her good perfume. She smelled so good. For a long time – after – we kept that bottle and sometimes Adam would let us open it and take a sniff, so we could remember how she smelled that night."

Hannah didn't say a word, afraid to shatter this crystal stillness.

"I was…six, I guess. Yeah, I turned seven after. Daniel had just turned eight and Ford – the three of us are the closest in age, Daniel's fourteen months older than me, and Ford is eleven months younger. Ford had his birthday a couple weeks after the funeral. Guthrie was just a baby, really, he…he doesn't know this, I don't think he does, but he was sick that night. He had an earache and he was screaming. Mama talked about maybe they shouldn't go that night, but Adam told her he could take care of Guthrie and they should go enjoy their anniversary. They always went to the restaurant in Sonora where they got engaged. Then they would go dancing, or maybe to a movie.

"Adam was getting ready to go to college. He was supposed to leave in a couple of weeks. He was starting to pack his stuff."

"You remember more than I thought you would," Hannah said gently.

He shook his head. "Not really. It's mostly stuff I heard afterwards. Daniel used to talk about that night a lot. Back then him and me and Ford shared a room and he used to talk about it at night after the lights were out."

He sighed again. "I remember the funeral, though. The church was full, people were standing in the aisles and in the back. Dad was from here, he'd lived here his whole life, except when he went away to college and met Mama. You know, Wheeler was one of the pall bearers? He and my dad were friends, they'd grown up together."

Russ Wheeler didn't act like much of a friend now, Hannah thought.

"After… was it just Adam and Brian, taking care of you all? You didn't have any other relatives?"

Evan shook his head. "No. Both of them were only children. And all our grandparents were already gone. We have some cousins, I mean, like second or third cousins, but they don't live around here. One was in Georgia, I think? And a couple somewhere else, I can't remember. The one from Georgia, Carolyn, she came to the funeral. But she wasn't much older than Adam and she had a baby of her own. She called to check on us, though." He grinned. "She still does. Every month, like clockwork. She and her family live in Texas now."

Hannah couldn't imagine an eighteen year old trying to raise his brothers. Especially so many brothers. And some of them were so young.

"I don't remember this, but I guess there was some fuss about us staying here, making Adam our guardian," Evan said, again as if he'd read her mind. "Some of the people in town wanted to split us up, Tom and Carey Barrett offered to take me and Ford. And Wheeler and his wife said they'd raise Daniel – he was really good friends with Cody – and Guthrie. I don't remember who was supposed to get Brian and Crane. And Adam could have gone on to college. He had a scholarship and everything. But he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't leave us."

"No, he wouldn't," Hannah said softly. She might have only known the man she married for a little over a month, may have known about his family – hers now, too – for just ten days or so, but she was certain he never even thought about taking the easy way out, letting other people take over.

I wish I'd known you back then, Adam McFadden, she said to herself. I wish I could have been there to help you carry that load.

But I'm here now. And I love you. And I already love them, too. Your brothers. My brothers, now. Our family. Our home.

She thought of Guthrie, clinging to her hand that afternoon. Wanting her to help him when he was sick, in pain. Ford looking so grateful she'd come to pick him up from school. Crane smiling as he agreed she could take care of them. Daniel, not afraid to let her see how worried he was about his brothers. And Evan, now, trusting her with his memories.

Her family.

Outside, lightning crashed down and thunder roared. The lights flickered, then held.

And the back door was flung open and Adam and Brian stumbled in, soaking wet.

7Bf7B

Four days later the storm was over and the sick brothers were feeling better. Evan's knee was healing. The whole family gathered around the supper table again, finally back together with not a drop of chicken soup to be seen. Hannah had cooked another huge meal: she was pretty sure now that she was accepted as the Head Cook.

Laughter and chatter rang through the room. Hannah found herself effortlessly following each and every conversation. Had it only been a few days ago she wondered how they ever kept track of who was saying what to who?

Crane, Ford and Guthrie were finally back to eating again, she noticed happily. It hadn't seemed right for them to just eat soup and tea and crackers. And lemonade, she thought, smiling at Guthrie sitting next to her.

"Honey, can you pass the biscuits, please?" Adam yelled from his end of the table.

She nodded and reached for the basket of biscuits in front of her. But before she could hand it to Guthrie or Crane to pass it on, she had an idea.

"Biscuits coming down!" she sang out, waiting until everyone was watching. Then she tossed a biscuit into the air, aiming directly for Adam's plate.

All conversation ceased. All of them – her husband, her brothers – stared at her as if they couldn't believe it.

Then Evan broke out into a huge grin. "All right!" he said, pounding the table.

Laughter filled the room, all of them applauding her.

Hannah smiled, basking in the feeling of family.

Her family.

Finally, she had a home. She had a family.

She was a McFadden. Hannah Moss McFadden.

And this was her home.