Martha’s mouth tightened.
“Clara.”
Clara ignored her.
She walked toward the wagon.
Nathaniel noticed immediately.
His posture changed.
Not defensive.
Alert.
“Sir.”
Nathaniel faced her.
“Yes?”
“Your boy.”
He glanced toward Samuel.
“What about him?”
“Has he had fever?”
“Two nights ago.”
“How high?”
“Didn't measure.”
“Chills?”
“Yes.”
“Night sweats?”
“Yes.”
“Pain breathing?”
Nathaniel hesitated.
Samuel answered.
“Sometimes.”
Clara moved closer.
Nathaniel stepped between her and the wagon instinctively.
Not aggressively.
Protective.
She stopped.
“May I look at him?”
Nathaniel studied her.
“Are you a healer?”
“No.”
“I've cared for children with lung fever.”
“Many times.”
“Family?”
“And neighbors.”
Nathaniel looked toward the Reverend.
The Reverend nodded.
“She knows what she's doing.”
Nathaniel stepped aside.
“Samuel.”
The little boy looked suspicious.
Clara approached slowly.
She was used to children fearing strangers.
“Hello.”
Samuel stared.
“Hello.”