I soon realized that I should have tried t goet as much sleep as possible while I still could. It became quite elusive in a very short time. Who knew such a small creature could make so much noise? When I said as much to Helga, who looked as sleep deprived as I felt, she said rather sharply,

“Well how else is she supposed to let us know something is wrong or that she needs something? It's not like she can talk.”

I decided it would be better to just keep such observations to myself. After a few tense days,everyone's nerves seemed stretched pretty tight. But that changed drastically on the fourth day. I'd slept on the porch again, since Oota was staying close to Helga to help with the baby, each of them sleeping whenever they could. That morning Oota, looked much more worried than tired though. Her English may have been better than my mastery of her language, but conversations were still a mite garbled. She met me outside the cabin and and spoke in a hushed voice.

“Miss Heel-ga, too hot. Sick, needs medicine.”

Her words struck terror in my heart. Exhaustion and jangled nerves vanished as I stood frozen in fear. I'd heard of child bed fever. My Aunt Margaret had died from it when I was a boy. I remembered the look on my mother's drawn, tear-streaked face when she returned home after tending to her sister. Since then I'd heard of many other women who died of fever soon after giving birth.

I was pulled from my thoughts by Oota tugging on my sleeve.

“Mr. Jess get medicine. Go up mountain. Need snow or ice. Need this.”

She showed me a crude drawing she had made on a piece of bark. I was surprised to actually recognize the plant. My mother called it fever wort and had used it for many ailments. Then Oota said,

“Have bark from trees at stream, for drink. You go. Need much snow.”

I realized she was talking about the willow trees that grew by the stream. That was another thing I recalled my mother using. She would make tea from willow bark any time someone was feverish. I shuddered at the memory of how terrible it tasted. No amount of honey could make it better.

I ran inside to see Helga before I left. She was sleeping restlessly so I tried not to wake her as I leaned over to kiss her forehead. Her skin was burning hot. I hurried back out to saddle my horse and set off as fast as I could. I'd seen a patch of the plants Oota showed me near the timberline the last time I went up the mountain to hunt for deer. I'd have to go a little higher if I wanted to find snow or ice. I saw Abe standing on the porch wringing his hands as I rode away. He looked much older to me somehow.

After about an hour's ride I found the patch of fever wort. I had no idea how much was needed so I grabbed as much as I could stuff in a bag. I had to ride another four hours to reach the snowline. I compacted the snow as much as I could and wrapped it in pieces of sheepskin before putting it in my saddlebags. I'd put some straw in the bags before I left and hoped it would help keep the snow from melting before I got back. I also hoped the clouds hiding the sun and the shade of the trees would help. My horse was looking a little tuckered by this time but I didn't have time to give him a rest. I had no idea how long I had before the snow melted. Saddlebags full of water wouldn't be very useful. At least going down the mountain would be a lot easier than going up.

I raced back to the cabin as fast as possible over the rocky ground. My horse shied suddenly as we approached the clearing around the cabin, nearly throwing me from the saddle. Leaving the treeline, I saw Oota standing in front of the cabin with a rifle in her hands, yelling words I could not understand. To my surprise, she raised the rifle and pointed it in my direction. My thoughts froze in horror as I waited for the shot, unable to understand why Oota would shoot at me. I managed to duck, a futile gesture I thought, as the report of the rifle filled my ears. Something hit me hard, but I could not understand why it felt as if I'd been struck from behind. My horse reared and I found myself on the ground, struggling to get out from beneath what I finally understood to be the body of a mountain lion Oota had killed as it pounced at me.

Later, when there was a chance to think about it at leisure, I would be amazed by Oota's ability and accuracy with a rifle. As it was, I got up and dusted myself off, grateful and surprised to still be alive. As I limped toward the cabin Oota rushed out to meet me.

"Mr. Jess o.k?" She asked.

I managed some sort of a response, still shaking from recent events. Oota, on the other hand, was all business.

"You bring medicine Mr. Jess? Where medicine?"

I said, "in my saddle bag. Did you see where the horse went?"

She pointed to the stable and started toward it, leaving me to catch up. "How is Helga? I asked.

Oota answered, "Still too hot, need medicine," as she strode quickly towards the stable.

We found the terrified horse quivering in a corner of its' stall, dripping sweat, with the whites of its eyes still showing. I managed to quiet it enough to retrieve the saddlebags and handed them to Oota. She took them and rushed back out. I knew the horse needed tending to, but it was all I could do to get the saddle off of it before hurrying to the cabin. I spared just a moment to hope that I had not foundered it, but otherwise the horse would have to see to itself for a while.

Approaching the cabin, I saw Abe on the porch holding my daughter. "Helga?" I asked.

"Not good", he replied, looking more worried than I'd ever seen him. "She's burning up with fever and delirious. Doesn't even know who I am."

I patted his shoulder, stopped to gently kiss my daughter, and walked past him to the door, afraid of what I would see if I went in.
 
A low moan came from inside. I stopped in the doorway, then forced my feet to take me further and face my fear. Helga was thrashing around on the bed, covered in sweat, the blankets tangled around her. Oota was placing snow in cloths and putting them around Helga's body. "Mr. Jess, take," she said, holding out a wet cloth. "Put on her head. Talk"

I assumed Oota wanted me to put the cloth on Helga's forehead to help cool her, and perhaps she thought speaking to her would offer comfort, but I had no idea what to say. As I hesitated, unsure and, quite frankly, terrified by the sight of just how sick my wife was, Oota snapped, "Now, Mr. Jess."

I once again got my feet unstuck from the floor, took the cloth Oota offered, and placed it on Helga's head. She was thrashing around so much, I had to hold it in place. As hot as she was, the cloth quickly grew warm so I put it in the bowl of ice water I found next to the bed. Then I squeezed it out before returning it to Helga's forehead. I did this over and over throughout the afternoon and night. I also prayed more than I had ever done in my life; more than before or during any battle I had ever faced. More than when I watched men, broken and bleeding, crying for their mothers, dying in the mud in nameless places far from home. I offered God my life and soul if He would only allow Helga to live. I had finally found the one thing on Earth that meant more to me than anything and everything else, and I could do nothing but watch her suffer. I wondered if was I being punished for my sins. If so, why was Helga the one paying?

My prayers were silent, Abe's were not, and through the night I heard Oota chanting something in her own language. She also brought tea for Helga to drink, made from the plants I had gathered up the mountain, and kept putting snow wrapped in cloth around Helga's burning body. A faint memory stirred in my head, a memory of my mother, a cool cloth in her hand, placing it on my head as fever raged through me. A fleeting thought from my childhood, a feeling of being loved and cared for.

I don't know how it could have happened, but I obviously must have dozed off because I woke to early morning sunshine. I was confused, why I was sitting in a chair instead of in bed with Helga? Then I remembered. I straightened with a gasp as my gaze went to Helga's sleeping form. I realized suddenly that Helga was doing exactly that, sleeping. Not thrashing around in delirium, but sleeping. I felt her forehead and was amazed and elated to find it cool. My knees gave way in relief as I thanked God for sparing her life.

Abe was asleep in a chair, and the baby was in the cradle by the bed. My ecstatic cry woke them both and the baby started wailing. Oota came rushing in from outside. She looked as exhausted as I felt, but she pushed past me to lay her hand on Helga's head, brushing the tangled hair back from her face. As she turned to smile at me Helga opened her eyes and said weakly,

"Why is the baby crying?"