Morning Glory by Lavyrle Spencer

fighting panic. He took her by the arms and forced her back. "Lay down here a minute. The bees are gone."
      "But the boys—"
      "The boys got a few bites, but let 'em howl for a minute. Here now, you lay back like I said." She stopped resisting and wilted to the earth. He stuffed his hat under her. "Here, you put your head on this."
      She rested but small pains arced through her abdomen.
      "You hurt anything when you fell?" Will asked anxiously, kneeling beside her, wondering what he was supposed to do if she started losing the baby out here in the middle of this weed patch. He watched her stomach lifting and falling in panting beats, wondered if he should touch it, test it. But for what? He sat on one heel, hands resting uncertainly on his thighs.
      "I'm okay. Please ... would you just see after the boys?"
      "But you're—"
      "I'll just lay here a while. You take the boys up to the well and plaster some mud on their bee stings quick as you can. It'll cut the swelling."
      "But I can't just leave you here."
      "Yes, you can! Now do as I say, Will Parker! Them bee stings could kill Thomas if he got enough of them, and I already lost their daddy to the bees—don't you understand!" Her eyes filled with tears and Will reluctantly got to his feet. He glanced toward the pair, still sitting abjectly in the middle of the lane, bawling their heads off. He glanced at their mother and pointed authoritatively at her nose.
      "Don't you move until I get back." Then he was off at a run again. A moment later he rescued the two squalling boys and trotted on.
      "Maa-maaaaw! I want my maa-maaw!" Donald Wade had several welts on his face and hands. One ear was scarlet and puffed. He ground his fists into his eyes.
      "Your mama can't run as fast as I can. Hang on and we'll put somethin' cool on them bites."
      Baby Thomas was running from all ports and had bites all over, including a mean-looking cluster on his neck. They'd already begun swelling. At the thought of what could happen, should they be swelling as much on the inside as they were on the out, Will made his legs pump harder. He tried to think rationally, to remember if he'd seen where Mrs. Dinsmore kept her bread knife. A picture of the long silver blade flashed through his mind and he imagined having to slip it into Baby Thomas's windpipe, through that soft, pink baby skin. His stomach tumbled at the thought. He wasn't sure he could do it. Goddammit, don't let this kid choke, you hear me!
      Don't think of it, Parker, just keep runnin'! As long as he's screaming like a banshee he ain't strangling.
      Baby Thomas yowled all the way back to the yard. Will hit the mud patch by the pump doing seven miles an hour. His left foot flew west, his right east, and a moment later he landed on his seat with a splat. There he sat with two bawling boys. A bubble formed in Baby Thomas's right nostril. Tears rolled down Donald Wade's cheeks, wetting the bee stings. Will reached up and pulled Donald Wade's fist down.
      "Here, don't rub 'em." He sat in the cold, slimy mud and started dabbing it on both boys at once. Thomas fought him tooth and nail, jerking his head back, pushing at Will's hands. But in time the visible welts were covered. The howling subsided to jerky sobs, then the jerky sobs to breathy chuffs of wonder as it dawned on the boys that they were sitting beneath the pump, being plastered with mud. Will unhooked Donald Wade's suspenders, turned his bib down and his shirt up. He treated several stings on his back and belly, then removed the baby's shirt and did likewise.
      "They got you, all right," Will confirmed, examining for any he might have missed.
      "Are they all right?"
      Will's chin snapped up at the sound of Eleanor's voice. She stood at the edge of the puddle, holding his flattened hat in her hand. "I thought I told you to stay put till I could get back to you."
      "Are they all right?" she repeated.
      "I think so. Are you?"
      "I think