distress.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she said. “But you didn’t have to come here. . . .”
“Nonsense.” Rebekah laid her hand on the infant’s forehead. “How could I know what to do for the baby without seeing it? Is your baby a girl or a boy? I hate to keep referring to it as it .”
“A girl. Her name is Hannah. I’m Liz.”
“I’m happy to make your acquaintance, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Rebekah Sinclair. Now, let’s see what we can do for little Hannah. She seems to have a bit of a fever, but her breathing concerns me most.” She set her satchel on a table, then looked about the cabin. “Do you have a kettle?”
“No, but I can find one.”
“I would go myself, but I am afraid I am not tolerating the tossing of the ship very well.”
“You really shouldn’t have come if you are ill.”
Rebekah smiled. “This will take my mind off my own woes. Now please fetch a kettle of water, and we will heat it on your stove here. I can hold Hannah if she doesn’t protest too strenuously.”
Within a fifteen minutes the kettle was boiling nicely. Rebekah added some eucalyptus leaves, then instructed Liz to place the baby’s bed near the stove.
“Normally I would take a blanket and fix a tent over Hannah, but this cabin is so small the steam should build nicely without the tent. You’ll be able to hold her. If only there was a rocker for you.”
Liz set a chair by the stove and settled there with Hannah in her arms. “This will be fine. How long will it take for the medicine to take effect?”
“A few hours, I should think.” Rebekah began packing up her satchel.
“The captain said you have children of your own. Is that how you know what to do?”
“I’ve just had my third child. I’ve learned through their illnesses and also from my mother.”
Liz shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I have neither of those benefits. I know next to nothing about children.”
“You’ll learn.”
“You said you just had a baby?”
“She is nearly a month old.” Rebekah smiled tenderly. She thought how she had resented Leah for so long while she carried the babe in her womb, but now that she was here, she thanked God for the joy the child brought. “My husband had hoped she would wait to be born in Texas, but I’m rather glad she came when she did. I’m afraid in Texas we will be even more in the wilds than we were on our journey from Boston.”
“What brings you all this way from Boston?”
Rebekah restrained a bitter sigh. “My husband is a minister, and he has been called to Texas to spread the Gospel. What brings you to Texas, Liz?”
Liz’s eyes flickered away from Rebekah, and she was silent for so long that Rebekah began to think she had unwittingly tread upon forbidden ground.
Finally Liz replied, “My master decided to settle there.”
“Your master . . . ?”
“I thought the captain had told you . . .”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I should have said something, then. But I was so afraid you might not help if you knew.”
Rebekah now understood about the women in the room. They were slaves. But this young woman before her looked nothing like a normal slave. Her skin was completely white, just like Rebekah’s. Oh, perhaps it had a bit of a tan, but hardly enough for her to be a Negro. It completely baffled Rebekah. But what baffled her more, and even distressed her, was that Liz would think that might have influenced Rebekah’s decision to help.
“It wouldn’t have mattered, Liz.” Rebekah’s tone was filled with quiet intensity.
“There’s more—”
“It would make no difference.” She was firm in her conviction. In her inner, often unspoken, opposition to her husband, Rebekah sometimes doubted her faith, or at least doubted that she was a very good Christian. But even if she wasn’t worthy of Christ, she did love Him and desire to serve Him. The fact that she didn’t desire to share her husband’s choice of service
“Thank you so much for coming,” she said. “But you didn’t have to come here. . . .”
“Nonsense.” Rebekah laid her hand on the infant’s forehead. “How could I know what to do for the baby without seeing it? Is your baby a girl or a boy? I hate to keep referring to it as it .”
“A girl. Her name is Hannah. I’m Liz.”
“I’m happy to make your acquaintance, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Rebekah Sinclair. Now, let’s see what we can do for little Hannah. She seems to have a bit of a fever, but her breathing concerns me most.” She set her satchel on a table, then looked about the cabin. “Do you have a kettle?”
“No, but I can find one.”
“I would go myself, but I am afraid I am not tolerating the tossing of the ship very well.”
“You really shouldn’t have come if you are ill.”
Rebekah smiled. “This will take my mind off my own woes. Now please fetch a kettle of water, and we will heat it on your stove here. I can hold Hannah if she doesn’t protest too strenuously.”
Within a fifteen minutes the kettle was boiling nicely. Rebekah added some eucalyptus leaves, then instructed Liz to place the baby’s bed near the stove.
“Normally I would take a blanket and fix a tent over Hannah, but this cabin is so small the steam should build nicely without the tent. You’ll be able to hold her. If only there was a rocker for you.”
Liz set a chair by the stove and settled there with Hannah in her arms. “This will be fine. How long will it take for the medicine to take effect?”
“A few hours, I should think.” Rebekah began packing up her satchel.
“The captain said you have children of your own. Is that how you know what to do?”
“I’ve just had my third child. I’ve learned through their illnesses and also from my mother.”
Liz shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I have neither of those benefits. I know next to nothing about children.”
“You’ll learn.”
“You said you just had a baby?”
“She is nearly a month old.” Rebekah smiled tenderly. She thought how she had resented Leah for so long while she carried the babe in her womb, but now that she was here, she thanked God for the joy the child brought. “My husband had hoped she would wait to be born in Texas, but I’m rather glad she came when she did. I’m afraid in Texas we will be even more in the wilds than we were on our journey from Boston.”
“What brings you all this way from Boston?”
Rebekah restrained a bitter sigh. “My husband is a minister, and he has been called to Texas to spread the Gospel. What brings you to Texas, Liz?”
Liz’s eyes flickered away from Rebekah, and she was silent for so long that Rebekah began to think she had unwittingly tread upon forbidden ground.
Finally Liz replied, “My master decided to settle there.”
“Your master . . . ?”
“I thought the captain had told you . . .”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I should have said something, then. But I was so afraid you might not help if you knew.”
Rebekah now understood about the women in the room. They were slaves. But this young woman before her looked nothing like a normal slave. Her skin was completely white, just like Rebekah’s. Oh, perhaps it had a bit of a tan, but hardly enough for her to be a Negro. It completely baffled Rebekah. But what baffled her more, and even distressed her, was that Liz would think that might have influenced Rebekah’s decision to help.
“It wouldn’t have mattered, Liz.” Rebekah’s tone was filled with quiet intensity.
“There’s more—”
“It would make no difference.” She was firm in her conviction. In her inner, often unspoken, opposition to her husband, Rebekah sometimes doubted her faith, or at least doubted that she was a very good Christian. But even if she wasn’t worthy of Christ, she did love Him and desire to serve Him. The fact that she didn’t desire to share her husband’s choice of service
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