Sod and Stubble; the Story of a Kansas Homestead by John Ise

Author:John Ise
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pickle Partners Publishing
Published: 2015-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XXI – A SICK BABY

IT was August, and a busy time for everyone, for threshers were coming in the morning. Rosie was working at top speed, paring potatoes, churning and working the butter, baking bread and pies, and cleaning chickens—for threshers had to be fed well, according to the tradition of the time. Little Joe, just learning to walk, was sick and fretful, toddling around after his mother, hanging to her skirts, and crying almost incessantly. Once he got a stick and threatened to whip her if she did not stop and take him up; but the work had to be done, and Joe was allowed to follow around as best he could.

Next day the threshers came, and again there was little time to bother with cranky children; but Cad Winters came up to help, and she was given the task of taking care of the sick boy. Uncle Bob and Aunt Kate Winters with their three children had come to the neighborhood only a few years before, and lived on the farm just south of Henry’s. The Winterses were kind and generous to everyone, and wherever there was need of help, one of them was pretty certain to be on hand. Joe was unmistakably a sick child, feverish and irritable; but he always liked Cad, and made little serious trouble. The threshers stayed all that day and the next, and in the bustle and hurry of cooking and waiting on the men and shooing flies from the table—even with screens, there were always flies in the house—and then washing dishes and cooking again, Joe was not the center of interest, except at night, when he kept his parents up much of the time.

The next day was Sunday, a blazing hot August day, but Joe did not cry much, and Rosie began to hope that he was getting better. Mary Bartsch came down after church, and suggested that perhaps the boy was only suffering from teething, and that it was nothing to be particularly frightened about. Rosie felt greatly relieved to hear this, especially as the child became much quieter toward evening.

After supper, the threshers came again, to be ready in the morning; and later, after church, the preacher came with his wife and four children, to stay all night. It was late before Rosie had beds made for all—some of the children had to sleep on the floor. Joe was quiet, apparently much better, and Rosie lay down and went to sleep.

She and Henry were up before daybreak the next morning, and dressed by lamplight, for a busy day was ahead. Little Joe seemed to be sleeping soundly, but when Rosie reached over to turn out the lamp, she happened to look closely at him. His brown eyes were partly open, staring with the fixity of death! She called Henry, and for long minutes they stood looking down at the child, whose scarcely perceptible breathing belied the counterfeit of death in his face.

Henry passed his hand before the staring eyes, but Joe paid no heed, seeing nothing.

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