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her narrow-eyed scowl, then the way she looked in that fresh purple dress, cinnamon curls escaping her white kapp, and those wide green eyes in a face that was one of God’s finer creations, a body might wonder why she had never married.
    “Well,” said she, hands on hips, “What do you want now, clumsy?”
    “It’s because of that smart mouth you’re a spinster.”
    Sara stepped so close so fast, and with such determination, Adam would have backed away if he could move.
    “Listen,” she said poking him in the chest, “I did not want to come and tend your ornery self, but nobody else would, so here I am. Now what do you want?”
    “Go away then. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”
    “I should go, just to prove you wrong, but since I wouldn’t abandon a wounded rodent, you’re stuck with me.”
    Was she calling him a rat?
    Despite the affront, Adam had a problem. He had sent for her a quarter hour before to give her a piece of his mind, but his needs had changed, and they were desperate. “I need that jug over there.”
    “Adam Zuckerman, you’re not to be calling me in here every two minutes. And no more whiskey!”
    “Damn it, Sara, that’s my pissin’ jug. Now, give it to me or change the bed.”  He had to hand it to her; she hardly blushed as she went for the jug and handed it over, none too gently. But for some reason, she just stood there after that.
    “Well,” he said, after a minute. “Long as you’re gonna stay, either hold the jug or aim. It’s hard to do both one-handed.”
    She quit the room so fast, Adam experienced, for the second time in his life, a need to laugh that was so sharp, it made him want to weep. He swore instead.
    * * * * *
    Wishing he had a drink to blank his mind, and stewing over his damnable situation, kept Adam awake half the night. But despite that, he woke with a feeling the world was in order, which made him wonder if an infection had set in.
    Fortunately for him, Sara had left his jug near the bed, so there was no need to shout.
    A few minutes later, as he was about to give in and call for breakfast, he heard Roman Byler in the kitchen. Then Roman was at the door to his room. “There’s an Amish couple from a settlement in Indiana over at Sussman’s. The wife’s in labor,” Roman said. “And Doc Marks isn’t back from Akron. Woman’s already lost a babe in childbed and she’s scared to lose another. I’m taking Sara over there, Adam, and don’t you be arguing.”
    “Damn it, Roman, it’s dawn and freezing. She can’t take the baby out—”
    “Here we go,” Sara said, carrying Hannah into the room, followed by Lizzie, Katie and Pris. The three oldest climbed up on his bed with him, making him see purple and blue lights for the pain in his limbs.
    Whining all the while, Pris settled on the far corner, her back to him, her arms folded. Then Sara tucked the baby into the crook of his good arm. “Get used to it, Datt,” she said as she patted his aching head.
    “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.
    “Getting you settled, so I can go deliver that baby.”
    “You can’t mean to leave me here?  With them?”
    “Why?  They won’t hurt you.”
    Adam cringed. Didn’t she understand?  No, of course, she didn’t. How could he tell somebody as strong and perfect as Scrapper Sara how defective he was?
    Maybe she was the wrong one to care for the girls, after all. If she was going to be so careless with them, they’d be better off with ... him?  The thought made him feel less helpless and more furious. “I forbid you to go!”
    Sara stiffened at the same time Roman’s bark of laughter filled the room. “Now you’ve done it,” Roman said, making Adam want to erase his former friend’s smirk with a forbidden fist.
    Sara pierced Adam with her look. “Get up and stop me, why don’t you?”
    Trying not to laugh, Roman cleared his throat. “Before she agreed to go, Sara made me promise I would come back to help