Calico Brides by Darlene Franklin Page B

in the middle of the night. Peering through the snow crystals on the window, he saw that the storm had stopped. Grandfather’s breathing had eased. As long as he was resting, Haydn would take advantage of the opportunity to clear a path to the street. Grandfather needed a doctor, although Haydn felt uncomfortable leaving him alone in the house for the time it would take to fetch one.
    Haydn grabbed a shovel from the mudroom and opened the front door. The snow had drifted higher on the porch than he expected, in spite of the protection of the overhang. He stayed in the doorway only long enough to clear a place to stand then he shut the door behind him, trapping the heat inside. Soon enough the effort he expended left him warm, and he worked with a will.
    When he left the porch, the snow reached Haydn’s knees, and moonshine sparkled on the diamondlike surface. He continued until the first rays of the sun reminded him of the passage of time. As much as he wanted to finish the job, he needed to check on his grandfather. He tramped up the steps and opened the door, carrying his boots and snow-soaked garments to the adjacent mudroom.
    Haydn added another log to the fire. The extra wood Grandfather had chopped had come in handy after all. Upstairs, the Old Man slept so peacefully that Haydn put his head to his chest to make sure he was still breathing. Pioneers lived like this all the time, with no medical help available except what they could do for themselves, locked up in a single-room hovel with no way to reach the outside world.
    Haydn’s experience hadn’t prepared him for this kind of isolation. He didn’t mind taking care of Grandfather or clearing the path, but he couldn’t do both at once. Padding down the stairs to the kitchen, he scraped the last of Aunt Kate’s chicken soup into a bowl. They’d reached the end of the food she had provided. He’d have to cook their next meal, maybe sausage gravy and biscuits.
    Grandfather managed to eat the small amount of soup and drink a few sips of tea before he slipped back into sleep. His breathing rasped, and he felt hot to the touch. Thrashing, he threw his quilts on the floor. Every time Haydn replaced them, he flung them down again.
    Haydn didn’t know if he should keep Grandfather covered or allow him to cool down, without the quilts. The front parlor seemed like a good solution. With the fire, Grandfather would stay warm even if he kicked off every cover. Haydn placed one arm under the Old Man’s neck and another under his knees. Amazing how insubstantial his grandfather felt in his arms, his body emaciated by illness. He picked his way down the stairs and laid Grandfather on the couch. Plumping the pillow under his head and covering him with a quilt, Haydn looked into his face. Seen like this, the man inspired pity and even love. He had lived and loved and survived.
    If Haydn wanted to please his oldest living relative, he was supposed to find a wife within the next two months. So far the only women of marriageable age he had met in Calico were all members of Gladys’s sewing circle. The ones who gossiped about Grandfather’s money. “Lord, what am I supposed to do? Are you going to send a bride my way by special delivery on a train?”
    Grandfather grunted at that, and Haydn rushed to his side. “What is it?”
    Grandfather opened those dark eyes, clear for the first time since his collapse. “God will provide.” His eyes drifted shut, and Haydn almost thought he had imagined those few words.

    Because of checking on Grandfather so often, Haydn scorched his oatmeal. Bringing a big bowl out to the parlor, he ate it quickly and set it to one side. The family Bible sat on a nearby shelf, and he reached for it. With interest, he read the family record: his grandparents’ marriage, his father’s birth, the birth and death of a younger sister, his parents’ marriage, his own birth as well as his younger brother’s.
    Of his grandmother’s death, no record had