Free The Plague Doctor by E. Joan Sims

Since she printed more legibly than either Cassie or I, we elected her to make our little organization chart.
    She divided the chart into columns: one for each floppy disc, with spaces for the files underneath. There was still plenty of room to add notes and comments. We were in business.
    Cassie brought us a big pot of tea and some chocolate biscuits. She and Mother sat in front of the fire munching while I worked on the computer and Aggie lay comatose at their feet. Not even the possibility of falling cookie crumbs could rouse the exhausted puppy after her afternoon romp in the woods.
    The disc I chose first had the lowest sequence of numbers written on the label. I had no idea what they meant and probably never would, but I had to start somewhere.
    Disc number one turned out to be Ethan’s log book. The file manager only read that one location on the disc. The last entry had been the day of his arrest. It was a big file, and I had only just begun to read it, but it would have to wait until later.
    â€œOh, Mom, by the way, Ethan said to tell you, ‘look for the lambs.’”
    â€œWhat the hell does that mean?”
    â€œWhat lambs, dear? Paisley, language, please.”
    â€œI don’t know, Gran. He couldn’t explain with the Gestapo listening to our every word.”
    â€œOkay! Mother, for what it’s worth, that’s our first clue. Write it on the top of the poster in quotations.”
    â€œI thought the abortion clinic in Morgantown was our first clue.”
    â€œWhat abortion clinic? I thought this was about miscarriages and stillbirths, not about stupid people murdering babies.”
    â€œIs that really how you feel, Cassie?”
    I don’t know why I was surprised at her attitude. After all, she had been brought up Catholic, like Rafe’s family.
    â€œI certainly do! I cannot imagine anyone in their right mind having an abortion for any reason. Not even to save the mother’s life. The baby comes first.”
    I saw Mother pulling herself up to give her little lecture. I tried to head it off at the pass. The last thing we needed tonight was an argument about abortion rights.
    â€œI found the medical dictionary on the bookshelf today. Apparently the term ‘abortion’ is applied to fetal loss depending on the number of weeks from conception. Up until twenty weeks a fetus is ‘aborted’ either naturally or through intervention. After that it is ‘stillborn,’” I added weakly.
    Nobody was paying me any attention at all. Mother was sitting upright on the edge of her seat and just itching to sermonize. Cassie, however, was not yet ready to give up her soapbox.
    â€œToo many females of my generation think of abortion as just another means of birth control. It’s not birth control at all. It’s murder due to lack of self-control.”
    â€œYou certainly make a good point with that, dear, but don’t you think…”
    â€œMurder plain and simple,” interrupted my darling daughter. “Have you ever seen a little fetus, Gran? It has tiny little hands and…”
    â€œCassie.”
    â€œâ€¦feet. What, Mom?”
    â€œMother, you too. Let’s cool it, okay? If the Supreme Court has trouble with this decision, how in the world can you two hope to change each other’s minds? It’s way too emotional a subject for us right now, and it won’t help Ethan at all. Let’s put our energy into helping him.”
    â€œCertainly, dear. You’re right as usual.”
    She smiled sweetly—too sweetly, and continued, “Cassandra, you could learn a few things from your elders.”
    I tried again, “Mother, could you please get us some more tea? The pot’s gone cold.”
    â€œNever mind, Mom! You can’t cut her off that easily. I’ll get the tea so my ‘elder’ won’t wear herself out.”
    â€œCassie, that’s enough!”
    â€œWell, I never! No