so I can get a good look at him. Mazelle, go see if you can find Dr. Albright.”
I reached out tentatively, but the boy turned his face away and clung tighter to the patrolman’s jacket.
Doc ruffled the baby’s muddy hair and chuckled again. “I think you’re stuck with him, Ray. He’s adopted you whether you like it or not.”
Ray chuckled. “Well, that’d be fine, except I’ve got to get back out in the car and drive those backroads. There’s still people out there needing help.”
No one answered. None of us wanted to consider the idea that there might still be injuries or fatalities.
Looking at the little boy, apparently still strong and healthy under that coating of mud, I felt my spirits rise. If something so tiny could survive the storm, then surely Nate was all right.
“O.K., Jenilee, you’re going to have to take him and turn him around so I can get a better look at him,” Doc ordered. “I’m amazed to say it, but as far as I can tell so far, all this little guy needs is a bath and his mama.”
“Wow, that is somethin’,” the patrolman said. Hugging the little boy against his chest, he rested his chin on the boy’s head. He closed his eyes for just a moment, then began to pry loose the grip on his jacket. “Come on, little fella. Time to go now.”
“Have you seen a white four-door Ford pickup with a brown stock trailer behind?” I asked, unwilling to miss the chance for outside information. “My brother and my father were headed to the cattle sale in Kansas City yesterday. They should have been on their way home when the tornado hit.”
“I haven’t seen it. But I’ve only been in this county. Could be they’re stopped somewhere farther north. All the roads are blocked up there. No phones, so don’t give up hope. A lot of people out there are still trying to get in touch with family.” He looked at the boy in his arms again, seeming reluctant to give him up. “Just like this little guy. You know, there wasn’t a house or an abandoned car anywhere near where I found him. Could be he’s been wandering a while, maybe from one of the campgrounds or something. How he survived is just . . . well, a miracle.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
He peeled the little boy loose and handed him to me. I held him clumsily as he squirmed in my arms and started crying, trying to get back to the patrolman. Mrs. Gibson was beside me quickly, taking him away. She held him while Doc finished checking him; then she picked up the blanket and nestled him to her chest. He stopped crying and burrowed against her like a kitten.
“There, that’s better,” she said, laying a hand over his hair and bouncing him gently up and down. Clinging to her flowered house-dress, he sighed as his eyes started to close. She looked at me and winked. “Whenever you hold a little one, you bundle its face right here. Right against your heart, see? So he can hear it. It reminds him of his mama, and that’s a comfort.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know the first thing about holding babies, not human babies anyway. “It works with kittens, too,” I said, because I knew about kittens, and puppies, and calves, and other orphaned baby creatures.
Mrs. Gibson smiled, her violet eyes twinkling. “Every living creature needs to hear the beating of another heart once in a while.” Her words were quiet, almost as if she were only thinking them, not speaking at all. “Nothing God made on this earth is meant to go on its way alone.”
I nodded without knowing why.
On his cot by the door, old June Jaans moaned in his sleep, then opened his eyes and looked drowsily at us. “Lordy, what you got there, Eudora?”
“You just—” Mrs. Gibson stopped as the hiss of air brakes filled the room. “What in the world . . . ?”
We walked to the door and looked out. In the parking lot, an enormous white motor home with glittering mirrored windows roared past the front of the armory, towing a matching enclosed trailer. Mrs.
I reached out tentatively, but the boy turned his face away and clung tighter to the patrolman’s jacket.
Doc ruffled the baby’s muddy hair and chuckled again. “I think you’re stuck with him, Ray. He’s adopted you whether you like it or not.”
Ray chuckled. “Well, that’d be fine, except I’ve got to get back out in the car and drive those backroads. There’s still people out there needing help.”
No one answered. None of us wanted to consider the idea that there might still be injuries or fatalities.
Looking at the little boy, apparently still strong and healthy under that coating of mud, I felt my spirits rise. If something so tiny could survive the storm, then surely Nate was all right.
“O.K., Jenilee, you’re going to have to take him and turn him around so I can get a better look at him,” Doc ordered. “I’m amazed to say it, but as far as I can tell so far, all this little guy needs is a bath and his mama.”
“Wow, that is somethin’,” the patrolman said. Hugging the little boy against his chest, he rested his chin on the boy’s head. He closed his eyes for just a moment, then began to pry loose the grip on his jacket. “Come on, little fella. Time to go now.”
“Have you seen a white four-door Ford pickup with a brown stock trailer behind?” I asked, unwilling to miss the chance for outside information. “My brother and my father were headed to the cattle sale in Kansas City yesterday. They should have been on their way home when the tornado hit.”
“I haven’t seen it. But I’ve only been in this county. Could be they’re stopped somewhere farther north. All the roads are blocked up there. No phones, so don’t give up hope. A lot of people out there are still trying to get in touch with family.” He looked at the boy in his arms again, seeming reluctant to give him up. “Just like this little guy. You know, there wasn’t a house or an abandoned car anywhere near where I found him. Could be he’s been wandering a while, maybe from one of the campgrounds or something. How he survived is just . . . well, a miracle.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
He peeled the little boy loose and handed him to me. I held him clumsily as he squirmed in my arms and started crying, trying to get back to the patrolman. Mrs. Gibson was beside me quickly, taking him away. She held him while Doc finished checking him; then she picked up the blanket and nestled him to her chest. He stopped crying and burrowed against her like a kitten.
“There, that’s better,” she said, laying a hand over his hair and bouncing him gently up and down. Clinging to her flowered house-dress, he sighed as his eyes started to close. She looked at me and winked. “Whenever you hold a little one, you bundle its face right here. Right against your heart, see? So he can hear it. It reminds him of his mama, and that’s a comfort.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know the first thing about holding babies, not human babies anyway. “It works with kittens, too,” I said, because I knew about kittens, and puppies, and calves, and other orphaned baby creatures.
Mrs. Gibson smiled, her violet eyes twinkling. “Every living creature needs to hear the beating of another heart once in a while.” Her words were quiet, almost as if she were only thinking them, not speaking at all. “Nothing God made on this earth is meant to go on its way alone.”
I nodded without knowing why.
On his cot by the door, old June Jaans moaned in his sleep, then opened his eyes and looked drowsily at us. “Lordy, what you got there, Eudora?”
“You just—” Mrs. Gibson stopped as the hiss of air brakes filled the room. “What in the world . . . ?”
We walked to the door and looked out. In the parking lot, an enormous white motor home with glittering mirrored windows roared past the front of the armory, towing a matching enclosed trailer. Mrs.
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