Chapter 6: The Fever

I didn't think.

I was down the porch steps and across the gravel before Lottie finished her sentence.

"Give her to me," I said.

"No. She's mine, I'll hold her."

"Lottie, I'm a certified EMT. Give her to me, now."

Something crossed Lottie's face and was gone.

She held out the blanket.

Birdie's skin burned through the wool.

I laid her on the tailgate of the nearest truck and opened the blanket.

Her whole body was slick with sweat.

Her lips were dry and cracked.

"Birdie. Birdie, honey, look at me."

Her eyes opened a slit, and shut.

"Jesse, call dispatch," I said.

"Tell them a four-year-old, fever of a hundred and four, drowsy. Send the rig out the county road and we'll meet it."

He already had his phone out.

I pressed two fingers under her jaw and checked her pulse.

It was too fast.

I stripped the blanket and the sweater off her.

I had the foreman bring me the water jug from the barn and a clean shirt from the line.

I soaked the shirt and laid it across her chest and her forehead.

"Not cold," I said, when Lottie reached for the ice chest.

"Cold makes her shiver and it pushes the fever up. Lukewarm. Does she have any rash?"

"No."

"Stiff neck? Did she throw up?"

"No. She said her head hurt this morning. I gave her the pink medicine."

"What time?"

"I don't know. Seven."

I bent Birdie's chin toward her chest, and she whimpered but it went down easily.

That was good.

It meant I could rule out the worst of it.

The ambulance came over the ridge three minutes later with its lights going, and my crewmate jumped out with the bag.

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