He helped her sit upright and offered a little water.
She took a sip.
Then she began coughing again.
A wave of fear moved through him.
He remembered the clinic instructions.
Breathing trouble.
Unusual weakness.
Difficulty staying awake.
He checked her temperature.
It was high again.
He looked at the clock.
10:26 p.m.
He called Ben.
The call went to voicemail.
Ben was likely driving, and Elias knew he would not answer while handling the truck.
He left a message.
“Son, Alice is getting worse.
I’m taking her in to be checked.
I’ll call you when I know something.”
He ended the call.
Then he put on his coat.
There was no more waiting.
No more telling himself morning would come soon enough.
No more hoping the sickness would simply pass.
Alice needed medical help, and Elias was going to find it.
He helped her into the red winter coat he had bought with his savings.
Her fingers moved slowly as she tried to fasten the buttons.
“Here, sweetheart.
Let me.”
She watched his hands.
“Are we going to the doctor again?”
“Yes.”
“Will they make me stay?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked frightened.
He knelt in front of her.
“But I’m coming with you.”
“All the time?”
“As much as they’ll let me.”
She put her arms around his neck.
“I don’t like hospitals.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then why are we going?”
He swallowed.
“Because sometimes we have to go somewhere we don’t like to find somebody who can help us.”
She rested her cheek against his shoulder.
“Okay.”
Elias picked her up.
She was growing heavier every month, but that night she felt small against him.
Too small.
He carried her to the living room and called for a taxi.
The dispatcher warned him that the weather was delaying drivers.
He gave the address of the nearest hospital with an emergency department and said he had a sick child.
Then he waited by the door.
Ten minutes passed.
Alice’s head rested on his shoulder.
He could feel the heat of her forehead through his shirt.
After fifteen minutes, he called again.
There were still delays.
He looked out at the wet street.
His old pickup sat under a streetlamp.
He had not trusted it enough to drive it for weeks.
But he trusted waiting even less.
Elias carried Alice downstairs, settled her carefully in the passenger seat with her seat belt fastened, and climbed behind the wheel.
The engine turned over once.
Then again.
He whispered a prayer.
On the third attempt, the truck started.
Elias almost laughed with relief.
“Good old girl,” he murmured.
He glanced at Alice.
“Ready?”
She nodded weakly.
He pulled away from the curb.
The trip to the hospital seemed longer than any cattle drive Elias had ever made.
Rain struck the windshield.
The wipers dragged water across the glass with a tired squeak.
Streetlights reflected on the wet road, turning each intersection into a blur of yellow and red.
Elias drove carefully.
His hands gripped the steering wheel.
Every few moments, he glanced toward Alice.
She sat curled inside her coat, holding the stuffed horse against her chest.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“Tired.”
“I know.”
“Are we almost there?”
“Getting closer.”
She closed her eyes.
He watched the road.
A few miles later, she whispered, “Grandpa?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me about the ranch.”
He looked at her.
“Right now?”
“Please.”
He tried to keep his voice steady.
“Well, there’s a little hill just beyond the north pasture.
Remember?”
“The one with the yellow flowers?”
“That’s right.”
“And Juniper likes to eat them.”
“He certainly does, though he shouldn’t.”
She gave a faint smile.
Elias continued.
“In the spring, the creek runs high.
And the grass comes up green all along the bank.
You can smell the earth after the rain.
Sometimes the whole valley looks like it belongs in a painting.”
Alice listened with her eyes half closed.
“And the stars?”
“Oh, the stars are still there.
Thousands of them.
More than this old man could ever count.”
“Can we go back?”
He swallowed.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“When?”
“When you’re feeling better.”
She tightened her hold on the stuffed horse.
“Promise?”
“I promise.
We still have a lot of beautiful days waiting for us.”
He wanted to believe those words with every part of his heart.
At the next traffic light, he looked over again.
Alice’s breathing was still too quick.
He thought of the nearest hospital.
He thought of the money in his wallet.
He thought of the insurance forms that had not been finished.
For a moment, fear tried to persuade him to turn toward a cheaper clinic or go home.
He rejected the thought immediately.
No bill mattered more than Alice.
No embarrassment mattered.
No stranger’s judgment mattered.
