The man beside Ruth was leaning on a crutch. “It’s her!” he said. He started pushing his way through the crowd, leaning on the flimsy stick beneath him. He was a big man, dressed in overalls. He could hardly move on his game leg. He tried to weave through the tight-knit group of onlookers.

People were not gracious to him.

One man pushed the disabled man, who then fell onto his hind parts. And people ignored the fallen man writhing on the ground. Ruth rushed to him before he was trampled to death. She helped him to his feet, and she could hear him grunting in pain.

He leaned onto her for support and said, “Thank you.”

“There’re too many people here,” she said. “We’re never gonna get through.”

He was panting from exhaustion, and he started to weep. It was as though this realization was finally beginning to land on him. She held him, this stranger. She could smell his sweat when he cried into her shoulder.

“Sshhh,” she said.

“I gotta try,” he said. “I just gotta.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do,” she said. “I wanna get through as bad as you do.”

“Please help me,” he said. “Help me try.”

Something came over her. A kind of determination. She couldn’t explain where it came from.

Before she knew it, Ruth was nudging people from her path. The man was holding her for balance, doing his best to keep her pace. Ruth shoved people aside and offered excuse-mes when she passed them. They weaved through the clots of onlookers, saying, “Pardon us! Excuse us! Coming through!”

She was met with ugly stares from those who refused to let her by. But she worked through the maze of people a few inches at a time, using force when needed.

They finally stopped for rest. She was out of breath and her legs hurt from supporting the weight of the big man who held her.

“We’re never gonna make it,” she told the man. “This is pointless. We’re no closer than when we started.”

At first he couldn’t answer, he was breathing so heavily. “Please,” he whispered. “I come all the way from Greenville to see the lady healer.”

“You really believe she can heal you?”

“If I can just touch her.”

“And what? You think that will heal you?”

“If I can just touch her.”

They worked their way toward the building. Ruth was unsure if she was getting closer to the entrance or farther away until she saw clumps of children seated next to the wood walls with noses pressed into the gaps between planks. Ruth wedged between the children, working herself near the entrance. The man lost his grip on her and fell straight on his face. She helped him off the dust and saw that his nose was bleeding.

“Are you okay?” she said.