The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 Read Online Free

How could she be ill now?
    Declan appeared in her line of vision, his scowl deep as the frown on his face. “I found the medic.”
    An older man walked up to her; his balding pate and kind smile made her feel at ease. “Hello there, young lady. I’m Frank Drummond.”
    “Josephine Chastain.” She blinked as her eyes burned from the sun. “I do not believe I am ill.”
    Pain ripped through her abdomen and she gasped. She clutched her belly and prayed she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of all these people.
    “Maman, I need to...”
    “Everyone away except for Mr. Drummond.” Her mother shooed away the crowd and returned to Jo’s side.
    “Have you had diarrhea?” Mr. Drummond put on a pair of gloves before he probed her belly, sending additional shards of pain through her.
    To her mortification, she messed her drawers. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Maman cleaned her up, protecting her from everyone’s view. Mr. Drummond waited patiently, giving her his back, for which she was very grateful. After Maman finished, he returned to examine Josephine.
    “I guess that answers that question, hm?” He checked her forehead, her neck and her fingers and toes. “How long has the fever been going on?”
    Maman wrung her hands. “I did not notice she was sick.” She started to take off her gloves and hat, as though she’d just realized she still wore them.
    Mr. Drummond stopped her. “No, don’t take them off. It’s safer if you keep them on.”
    “Do you know what it is?” Maman looked desperate.
    “I believe I do. Let’s go speak to your wagon master.”
    “No, I deserve to hear this.” Jo wasn’t about to let anyone make a decision or know about her illness before she did.
    Mr. Drummond frowned, but he nodded. “Fair enough.”
    At Maman’s signal, the group returned with concerned expressions. Declan hovered in the background, behind everyone. The medic addressed them.
    “I believe Miss Chastain has typhoid.”
    The word “typhoid” fell like an anvil in a still pond. Jo was terrified, knowing what she remembered of the disease. Her mother had helped with an outbreak the year before, where at least a dozen people died.
    “Are you certain, monsieur ?” Maman’s voice shook.
    “Fairly sure. I think you probably realized it too. The rose spots on her chest and neck confirmed it for me.” Mr. Drummond sounded calm, as though he wasn’t talking about Jo’s possible death sentence.
    “She can’t continue on this wagon train.” Buck Avery’s pronouncement shocked her more than the diagnosis.
    “Impossible.” Maman shook her head. “I will take care of her and she will recover quickly.”
    Buck shook his head. “Nope. I can’t allow it. I have a couple hundred pioneers here counting on me to keep them safe. Typhoid spreads fast. Everyone who has touched her can’t continue on this wagon train either.”
    “Mrs. Chastain wore gloves.” Mr. Drummond pointed out. “Did anyone else touch her?”
    No one spoke until Charlie piped up. “Mr. Callahan did.”
    Jo watched the pained expression on Declan’s face. He’d touched her? When and how?
    “He carried her back from the prairie. She was walking to nowhere when he saved her. Then he checked her forehead when he brought her back to the wagon. He wasn’t wearing gloves.” Charlie’s face was white as a sheet, likely as scared as Jo was over the diagnosis. “He’s the one who sent me for cold water.”
    She didn’t remember Declan helping her nor did she remember him touching her. Maman looked surprised, then frowned at him.
    “You did not speak up and tell us, Mr. Callahan.” Maman sounded calm but Jo heard the undertones in her voice.
    “I didn’t want any trouble. I only wanted to help your daughter. She was about to disappear into the prairie and I couldn’t let that happen.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground, as though he had something to be ashamed of.
    “Thank you, Decl—I mean, Mr.