Cindy Holby by Angel’s End Page B

the snow at the doorway. The chore served two purposes. One, it would make it easier for them, especially Dodger, to get in and out, and two, it was an easy source of water. Plus it kept Banks busy while she took care of her patient.
    “Thank you sweetie. Just leave it by the door.” She didn’t want Banks anywhere near the preacher until she was certain he’d regained enough of his senses not to accidentally hurt her son.
    Leah picked up a handful of snow and placed it in the bowl to melt. Her hands, already chapped from the cold, burned from the frosty snow, so she blew on them in a feeble attempt to relieve the pain. Residual moisture dripped from her fingers. She looked at her hand, then at the snow. An idea formed in her mind so she scooped up a handful, opened the preacher’s mouth and dropped it inside. “There,” she said with some satisfaction. “Water.” Just to make sure, she put her finger beneath his chin to keep it closed. “At least it will be eventually.”
    The corners of his mouth turned up in a quick smile and a soft sigh sounded in his throat.
    “‘For I was hungry, and you fed me; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in.’” Leah wiped his feverish brow. “I’m not sure of the wording but I know it’s a scripture. Perhaps when you’re feeling better you can tell me what chapter and verse.”
    “Momma, the Martins are here.” Dodger’s deep bark confirmed it.
    Now that was surprising. The snow was so deep that Dusty hadn’t opened. He just yelled across the street for her to stay home and take care of the preacher. Funny how word got around, even in the middle of a blizzard.
    Leah wiped her hands and went to the door. Jim and Gretchen came in, Jim with a steaming pot in his gloved hands and Gretchen with a basket. “How is he?” Gretchen asked.
    “Still alive.”
    “That’s a good sign,” Jim said. Leah followed them into the kitchen. Jim put the pot on the woodstove and Gretchen took off her gloves and went immediately to work,unpacking the basket. Jim went down the hall to get a peek at the new preacher. Banks stayed by the table, and watched each item that came out of Gretchen’s basket hit the table. Dodger did the same from the floor, his dark eyes hopeful that something would fall his way.
    “Nonnie said we’re going to get ice starting this afternoon.” Nonnie was Gretchen’s seventy-year-old German grandmother. Gretchen’s mother had died soon after her daughter’s marriage, so Nonnie had made the trip west with Gretchen and Jim, riding the entire way in the back of Jim’s wagon, along with his smithy supplies. She’d also delivered all three sets of Gretchen’s twins and Banks. If Nonnie said an ice storm was coming, then Leah was inclined to believe her.
    “We brought soup for your patient, fresh bread, butter, some jam and Nonnie’s apple strudel.” Gretchen continued, “Also Nonnie made some of her salve. She said it cures everything from dry skin to foot rot.”
    Leah made a face. “I’m pretty sure that’s not an issue, although I haven’t really looked at his feet.” Leah picked up the small jar. “But I will try it on my hands.”
    “From what I heard, it’s his face that needs looking at.” Leah looked at her in confusion. “He’s handsome?” Gretchen said when she realized her attempt at a joke had failed.
    “I’m beginning to wonder if I missed a party last night,” Leah said as she rubbed the salve into her hands. She held them beneath her nose and smiled as she smelled the faint scent of roses. Gretchen has a climbing rose on the side of her porch, carefully carried out west from Pennsylvania and tenderly nurtured. Its blossoms were the palest of pinks and when it bloomed during the summer months the scent was glorious. Leah had tried many times to start cuttings from it but they always died before they took root so she had to satisfy herself with visiting Gretchen’s every chance she could.