And then my father closed his eyes and went to sleep again.

—

My mother knelt on the bed, her hand in his, until her legs began to cramp, and then she scooted slowly away, careful not to wake him.

I was amazed to see that. To see her try not to wake him.

She beckoned for us to follow her from the room.

“Go get Maisie and the puppies,” she said softly.

I didn’t ask why. I knew why.

“You better stay here,” Samuel said to Esther. “Maisie is kinda nervous about the puppies.”

“There’s jerky in the oven,” my mother said to her. “Go turn it and then fetch one of your father’s work aprons and spread it next to him on the bed.”

For the puppies, I imagined. For the mess they might make.

I was amazed, again, at such a thought in a moment like this, but my mother and Esther spent a lot of time trying to manage mess.

I couldn’t imagine what they’d say if they knew that I had, just the night before, scooped pus and maggots from an old woman’s wound.

“Come on, Ellie,” Samuel said. “I’ll help you get the puppies.”

Which he did, carrying two of them, while I carried the other two and Maisie danced alongside us, rising up on her hind legs to butt us with her nose, singing with confusion and worry as we took them all into the cabin and along to where my father lay sleeping again.

I hoped that his sleep was just a simple sleep now.

Maisie looked surprised when I urged her up onto the bed, but as soon as I put Quiet and his sister on the apron and added Samuel’s pair, she jumped eagerly up, herding them with her nose into a bundle next to my father and then circling three, four times before settling herself next to them. Without warning, she licked my father’s face.

He didn’t move at all.

“Good Maisie,” I whispered to her. “Good Quiet. Good pups.” I ran my hands over their neat little bodies, their perfect little coats, before leaving them all to their nap.

Chapter Thirty-Six

While the cabin sighed and settled toward noon, I sat at the kitchen table and poked new holes in my father’s belt, now that he was so thin.

Then I got up and went to the door of his room to see if he was awake.

Then I used the tip of my knife to pry dried mud from the tread of his boots.

And went back to see if he had wakened.

After that, I worked dubbin into my father’s work gloves to make the leather soft again and ready for his hands.

Then I went to see if he had opened his eyes.

“You’re going to wear a track in the floor,” my mother said.