Free A Sweetness to the Soul by Jane Kirkpatrick

mules and horses now, too. The stock would be put on pasture soon. The spring had been late and only recently had the snow melted off the sidehills making room for the shoots of green to push through. Soon Rachel and I would begin taking the cows farther and farther from home each day to graze, watching them and bringing them back again at night. “Yes. Well. Won’t be long,” Mama’d said, “before Pauline and Rachel should be able to perform that duty, freeing you up to help more with the babies and work at home.”
    I wish it had all come to pass.
    We had more cows, too. Precious had several calves and Papa had traded a month’s labor and hard cash for a new, special kind of bull and two cows brought from across the ocean. This new bull we’d named “The Marshall” for his constant guarding look through brooding eyes. He watched us now as we walked past him, eyes following us like we were something good to eat as he chewed his cud and the warm sun beat on our faces. We squinted back at him.
    In no time, Beatrice and I caught up with Luther and Rachel. They had already slipped off their Sunday shoes and stockings, andwith some alarm I noticed their feet already sloshed in the cold, rushing water. They squealed, jumped back, raced back along the bank, stepping into wild iris and yellow bells that bloomed in a wild bouquet beside the water. The air was crystal clear and their young and chattering voices bounced against the ridge that lined the stream. Pauline took only a moment to join them even though I yelled for her to stop, then thought better of it. What harm could come? And they’d resent my acting like their mama, making them behave. Then Loyal broke free from my hand. Not bothering to unlace his shoes nor wrench free his socks, he simply plunged past them toward the water’s edge.
    I hadn’t thought the creek would be quite so rushing. Now I wondered, too, if the rattlesnakes were out easing their way beside the water.
    Branches collected along the edge catching debris, creating mounds of trash beside the banks that seemed perfect places for a small child to explore and that’s where Loyal headed.
    He was wet from head to toe before I even knew it. I yelled and Luther caught the alarm in my voice and seeing where I looked, headed that way, pulling Loyal farther back from the slick grass beside the banks. Pauline was not much better but at least she sat along the wet bank and darted her feet in and out of the water like dragon flies bouncing off a swirling pond.
    I knew I’d best get them all away, take them back, and yelled something about “cake!” hoping they’d come running. And they did, muddy clothes, wet feet, and all.
    It was only seconds, really, and away from the water, with the warm sun and grass, we dried their feet quickly. I carried Loyal since even his shoes were wet. I felt his cold feet bob lightly on my hip and rubbed one foot warm with my hand. Luther put Beatrice on his shoulders and we walked back without a care.
    I never dreamed as we passed the watchful Marshall bull and ate cake later that I would remember our trip to the stream as my last outing with my sisters and brother.

    Loyal began the fever first. Complaining, he pulled away from us while the party still rumbled with the voices of happy children, the men still spoke of politics, and my mother still smiled absently at Mrs. Henderson’s repetitions.
    Lodenma stroked Beatrice’s hair as she curled her in her arms and even commented that she didn’t seem as warm as when she’d first gone outside. “Spring fever,” Mama said. I could tell as she placed the back of her hand on Loyal’s forehead, that she held a worry. She seemed pleased when the Hendersons and Mays took their leave at dusk.
    Loyal’s voice caught in his throat and he croaked out “porcupine” and with his stubby fingers inside his mouth, he pointed to the pain. Mama put cool rags on his throat and wiped his face of the sweat and gave him juniper berry