The Brown Mud Of Jericho

At the first glow of daybreak Ma turned into the driveway and flowed up the drive to the power shed.  Morley Perkins, landlord of their farm on Jericho, and master gardener, was tucked tight in behind Ma and before he'd pulled to a stop, Claire James, with Trella Mead beside her, pulled in past the little arborvitae tree that during the previous day they’d named for Edith.  Behind Claire, Jane Toberton turned her heavy team of stamping Percherons, their heads bobbing, nostrils steaming, into the yard.  Lorraine Benson rode in astride a livery horse named Boliver.  Boliver labored under a prodigious pack tied behind the saddle and close on his tail, Clifford James guided his husky Clydesdales.

Clydis and Clarence stood on their rear stoop.  Old Sniffer had signaled 'friendly, all is well' and they'd looked from the kitchen window.  Clarence realized at once what was taking place.  "They're for you," he said reaching her hand, "and Edith."

Clydis looked on in wonder.  She felt her heart pounding at the base of her throat.  Her face white, she moved tightly against him and he folded his arms about her.  She wanted to cry, to shout with joy, to run to them and to hug them.  She hadn't known them.  She'd remained aloof from them, but they were there, there in the yard for her, for Edith, for Clarence.  "Thank, God," she breathed on his neck.  "Oh, thank God for such people."

The mere mention that "Edith had no coat, no clothes for that matter," had started it.  Grandma Emma had gone to Trella Mead's house after she and Robert had left the farm on Jericho the previous evening.  Hoping for an early start the next morning, she'd expressed the need for cotton cloth for Edith's diapers.  The truth of Clydis’ and Edith's condition emerged as Emma visited with Trella who owned the yard goods store.  Trella had taken it from there.

She telephoned Claire James first because she guessed that Claire and Clydis were about the same size and build.  Claire telephoned Lorraine Benson, asking her to take her shift at the shop so that she could help Clydis.  Lorraine would hear none of it, suggesting that Trella close the store at least for the morning.  Trella agreed, realizing at once Lorraine's compassion.

Lorraine had just finished a beautiful set of percales for their bedstead.  Without hesitation, she spread one of the sheets on the floor and began pulling out bureau drawers.  Her very best under things went onto the pile, and were followed by dresses and stockings and shoes.  "Tie these," she'd said to Ed.  The second sheet also became a bundle, a bulky one, because it contained a high chair.  The chair had been Naddy's, loaned to Lorraine; Lorraine was four months pregnant.

Clydis clung to Clarence, her legs weak, her back shivered, knowing her hair was a mess, not knowing what to do, wondering how this'd all happened.  Her heart thumped and she tried to swallow its beat down from her throat.

In addition to Trella Mead’s efforts, the Toberton household had been a beehive since hearing that Clydis and Edith were in trouble.  Helgie Perkins had arrived at the Toberton’s on that afternoon to midwife for Billie.  Billie was okay now, but for being a bit surly because they told her to stay put, that they would handle it, that she, they promised, would get to see Clydis and Edith soon enough.

***

pleading; help us, help us, please, we will not let her die.

"Get Billie,"