The Preacher's Bride Claim. Laurie Kingery

her training—out of her bag, then listened to the girl’s heart and lungs. The heart rhythm, though rapid, was the regular lub-dub she had hoped for, rather than one with an extra beat that made the rhythm sound more like Ken-tuck-y or Ten-nes-see, as it would be with a heart murmur. The lungs were clear, free of the wet sounds or crackles that might signal consumption.

      Nevertheless, she asked Beth if she’d been having night sweats or coughing. The girl shook her head.

      “Chest pains?”

      Again Beth shook her head.

      “What have you been eating, Beth?” Alice asked.

      The girl wrinkled her nose. “Pretty much corn bread and biscuits, washed down with coffee, ever since we left the East. Don’t have nothin’ else.”

      “I see.” Alice turned to the girl’s parents, who were hovering anxiously nearby. Now that she’d spoken to their daughter, she saw the same pallor in her mother and father.

      “I think your daughter is anemic—that is, her blood isn’t carrying oxygen around as it should. She needs to eat more red meat, especially liver and eggs. In fact, I think those things would benefit all of you. Would you be able to get more of those in your diet?”

      * * *

      Thank You, Lord, for sending Alice to us, Elijah prayed. She was as tactful as she was skilled. She saw what needed to be done or said, and did and said it.

      “Waal, I dunno,” the father mumbled, scuffing a small rock out of the dirt and pushing it with his toe. “Beef’s mighty costly.”

      “We left the East with not much more than the clothes on our backs,” the mother said, and when the man next to her tried to shush her, she raised her voice more. “Jed, it’s true, and our Beth is sick because of it.” She turned back to Alice and Elijah. “By the time we bought the wagon and team, we didn’t have much left for food on the trip, so we had to think cheap. We all et better back home.”