Annie Oakley's Arc

Chapter 25 of 25

Lainey saddled the big draft horse instead of the ponies. It stood broad and calm in the yard, feathered hooves planted, easy to sit for a sick child. Annie climbed up first. Lainey handed Misty into her arms and swung up behind them both. "Hold her steady," Lainey said. "We ride slow." They rode slow, but it did no good. Misty threw up over the horse's shoulder before they cleared the trees. Then again. Annie held the little girl's hat and rubbed her back and said his name low, the way she did when she was scared. Misty's body shook between heaves. By the time the clinic came into view, she had nothing left but bile and tears. The clinic sat quiet under a striped awning, flower boxes on the sill. Lainey lifted Misty down before the horse fully stopped. Misty pressed both hands to her belly and made a small, wet sound. "Bathroom," she whispered. "Now." Lainey moved. She had the door open and Misty inside faster than Annie could get her own boots on the ground. Annie found the bathroom door shut, Lainey crouched outside it. Behind the door, Misty had the runs, awful and loud. Annie's own stomach twisted in sympathy. She pressed her forehead to the wall and said the name again, quiet, just for herself. A woman with reddish-blonde hair came from the back room. This was Lindy, the healer who had treated Annie's own ulcers weeks ago. Her eyes were soft, but she wasted no words. "How long has she been sick?" she asked. "Days," Lainey said. "Fever. Swollen belly. Can't keep water down." Lindy knocked once, then helped Misty out and onto the exam table. The blue surface held the small shaking girl. Lindy pressed careful fingers to Misty's belly. Misty flinched. "There," Lindy said, quiet and precise. "And there." She listened. She checked Misty's eyes, her tongue, the heat off her skin. Annie stood at the table's edge and held Misty's hand. "What is it?" "A stomach bug started it," Lindy said. "But it's more now. There's a staph infection in her belly. And ulcers. That's what the swelling is." She looked at Annie plainly. "It's serious. But I can treat it." Annie's throat went tight. "You can fix her?" "Medicine for the infection. Fluids, because she's dried out. And rest. As much as she'll take." Lindy already had a needle ready for the drip. "No more riding. No more sickness in the house. She stays still until she mends." Misty turned her head on the table. "Am I gonna be okay," she said. Not a question, the way she asked things. "Yes," Lindy said. "But you have to rest." Annie squeezed the small hand. She bowed her head over the table and thanked Jesus out loud, soft, so Misty could hear it. Misty's fingers held on. The medicine started to drip. For the first time in days, Annie felt the fear loosen its grip.