Tattler's Branch by Jan Watson Read Free Book Online Page B

kept her abreast of shootings, stabbings, and family feuds. He knew she might see the results of mayhem before he did. The folks who lived up the hollers of the high mountains were secretive and clannish   —not given to call in the government and not given to calling on doctors unless there was no other option. Like the stranger whose fear of gangrene flushed him out.
    He’d probably be all right, though. His rib cage had deflected the one stab that might have killed him, and she’d treated him the best she could with chloral hydrate to prevent tetanus. It was not a sure cure   —nothing was against lockjaw. But he’d bled freely, and that was the best preventative. It amazed her how God had provided the body with healing properties. A person almost had to go out of his way to circumvent them.
    Lilly was halfway home when she remembered Timmy. Good grief, she’d locked the boy in the clinic! Key in hand, she hurried back. What was happening to her mind?
    There was Mrs. Blair standing under the porch light and there was Timmy looking out the window beside the door.
    “Mrs. Blair,” Lilly said, twisting the key in the hole. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to lock Timmy up.”
    Mrs. Blair laughed. “His daddy says lockup might be in that boy’s future   —might as well get him used to it.”
    Timmy sidled out. “You ain’t mad, are you, Mommy? I was figuring to spend the night.”
    “But why, Timmy? I told you to wait on the commissary porch. I’ve spent half an hour looking for you.”
    Timmy hitched up his pants. “I was figuring to protect Doc Still from bad guys. Me and Tweety had settled in for the night.”
    With a sigh, Mrs. Blair ruffled her son’s hair. “You and your imagination. What am I going to do with you?”
    “It’s my fault, Mrs. Blair. I don’t know what’s happened to my mind lately. I can’t remember anything. I found some papers I needed in the icebox the other day.”
    Mrs. Blair gave Lilly an appraising look. “Go ahead, Timmy. Your father’s waiting in the buggy.”
    Timmy hugged his mother around the waist. “I ain’t getting a whipping, am I?”
    “No, your daddy’s not mad. He was once a boy. Now go on.” Once Timmy had run off, Mrs. Blair said, “I don’t know why that boy’s talking about a whipping. He’s never had more than a swat on his backside.”
    “He’s a good boy,” Lilly said. “It’s obvious he’s well raised.”
    “You’re looking a little peaked, Doc. Are you all right?”
    Lilly smiled; she knew where Timmy got his curiosity. “Just tired, Mrs. Blair. It’s been a long day.”
    “You’re not in the family way, are you? That would explain why you’re forgetful and why you look peaked. My husband says I lose my mind every time I have a baby. Last time he said I never got it back. Ha.”
    “I’ll be right as rain after a good night’s sleep.”
    “All right then. Why don’t you let us run you home in the buggy?”
    “Thank you, but I enjoy the walk   —clears my head.”
    Timmy waved when the buggy rattled past, headed for the Blairs’ farm outside of town. Lilly waved back. Timmy’s family was one of Lilly’s favorites. Mrs. Blair had two older children, Timmy and his sister, and now two little ones. Lilly had delivered both the last babies.
    Hidden under her loose-fitting jacket, Lilly rested her hand on her stomach. The ladies of Skip Rock had been speculating about a pregnancy since the day after her wedding. It might be a harmless pastime, but Lilly found it irritating. It was as if one would score a point if she guessed correctly before anyone else.
    Just this morning, Lilly had checked her reflection from the side in the full-length cheval mirror in her bedroom. She looked like she’d gained a few pounds, but she hoped it wasn’t obvious. She was almost twelve weeks. So sure her baby was a boy, she whispered his name against her fear, as if the naming would somehow anchor him and keep him safe.
    She hoped against hope