Heath was kneeling down by the camp fire with the baby’s belly propped up against his shoulder “Come on now, give Uncle Heath a big burp,” he egged on while clapping and rubbing the small back. “Come on!”

The baby let out a resounding burp shortly followed by a hiccup. Heath chuckled and continued his soothing massage. “Got a helluva of air power in there. Come on Erin, just one more.”

The infant girl burped once more and shrieked with delight at her feat. Heath craned his head back to catch the fetching twinkle in her eyes. “That’s my baby girl. I love ya, precious.” He kissed her on the cheek before he gingerly laid her down on the blanket that he neatly folded around her dainty body. He bent over and landed another small peck on her forehead. Her reached for her raggedy doll and gave it to her. She smiled her gratitude and gurgled in wonder at the limp doll as she began fiddling with it.

Jarrod returned to the campsite with more twigs for the fire. “How’s Erin?”

“I’ve changed and fed her, and now she’s happy as a clam.”

“Where’s Nick?”

“He’s out hunting. He’s hell-bent on feasting on rabbit stew instead of my delicious beans,” Heath said teasingly.

The baby accidently hurled her doll aside and started crying. Heath picked it up, dusted the dirt off and gave it back to her. “Here ya go, good as new.”

“You’re quite taken with that baby,” Jarrod remarked as he strew a few twigs into the fire.

“Yeah,” Heath mused in a deep sigh.

“You know we can’t keep her.”

“I know that, Jarrod. But I wanna to spend every waking moment with her until we do find her a home.”

“I can understand that. Say, I’m getting hungry.”

“Yeah, me too.” Heath stood up and surveyed the area for any sign of Nick returning with his game. “Nick’s not back yet. Guess this means I’m cooking my speciality again tonight.”

“Wrong, bean breath. Look what I’ve got!” With a complacent grin hanging on his ear, Nick dangled his prized catch.

“Boy howdy Nick, you caught two?”

“Yep! Wanna cook ‘em?”

“Sure.”

“Here.” Nick handed over the rabbits over to Heath. “I’ll go check on the horses.”

While Nick headed toward the makeshift corral, Heath pulled out a knife from his saddlebag and buckled down to the task of eviscerating the hares. “You know, Jarrod. This might be a while before I get this cooked. You’re welcomed to some beans while you wait.”

“No thanks, Brother Heath. I’d rather stay on my hunger,” Jarrod replied teasingly.

“You two, han?” Heath sighed with a feighed pout.

“Don’t read me wrong, I love your beans. It’s just that Nick tantalized my taste buds with those Jack rabbits.”

Heath flashed a lop-sided grin in agreement. “Yeah, me too.”

Later, halfway through the deliciously gourmet supper, the cook’s grumbling stomach clamored for more. After polishing off the meat on the bones, Heath decided to whip himself up a few beans to sate his hunger.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement.

“Opening a can of beans. I’m still hungry. Want some?”

“No thank you. I’m full.”

“Suit yourself.” Heath poured the content into his plate that he placed over the fire to heat up.

Nick’s nose crinkled and twitched at the rancid scent wafting through the air. Heath caught his brother’s grimace in a sidelong glance and tittered. “Don’t bent your nose outta shape, Nick.”

“They smell funny.”

“That’s ‘cause your nostrils got a whiff of that rabbit meat. They’re all messed up.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not complaining. You know one of those days, Heath, those beans are gonna kill you.”

Heath put on his glove to remove the hot plate from the fire. Flashing Nick a smirk, he started feasting on his dish.

Nick observed Heath with repugnance. “Aaargh you make me sick.” He tossed his empty plate aside and heaved himself up. “I’ll go check on Erin.”

“Don’t wake her up!” Heath warned. “Took me an hour to get her to sleep.”

“I won’t.”

Jarrod watched in amazement his brother gobble down his beans. Heath held up the plate in front of him. “You sure you don’t want some?”

Jarrod turned his head away and with a wave of the hand, said, “No thank you.”

“Your lost.” Heath shrugged and resumed eating.

In the hush of the night, not a creature was stirring at the exception of Heath. Drenched in sweat from a scalding fever that he had gradually developed in the course of past hour, he was shifting in his sleep, keening his discomfort at the searing twinges tormenting his stomach.

Nick pried open his leaden eyes and swiveled them back and forth at the starry night as he pricked up his ears. Again, he heard the stifled moan that was not part of the chorus of chirping crickets. He glanced at Heath sleeping to his left and frowned with concern at his ragged panting. Nick cast the blanket aside and crawled over to his flushed brother. He gave Heath’s body a cursory examination for flesh wounds. The blood drained from his face when his hand felt the burning forehead. “Jarrod! Jarrod, get up!”

Jarrod groaned and shifted to his left.

“Jarrod!” Nick shouted.

“Nick, was is it?” Jarrod asked dozily through a yawn.

“Heath’s burning up with fever.”

Jarrod’s head jerked up. “What?” He flung the blanket aside and joined Nick by Heath’s side. He ran his hand across Heath’s forehead. “My God! How long has he been like this?”

“I don’t know. I was out like a light,” Nick said with his heart caught in his throat. He inhaled deeply to maintain his anxiety under control. “We’ve got to get him to a doctor.”

“I agree. Trouble is, the nearest town in ten miles away.”

“I could ride over there and bring the doctor here,” Nick suggested.

“That’ll take too long and by the looks of him, he may not have that much time.”

“Jarrod we’ve got to do something!” Nick snarled, feeling his temper flare up.

“Easy Nick! Let’s not panic.” Jarrod puffed out a resolute sigh. “Okay, we’ll have to chance it. He’ll ride with us.”

“He can’t sit in the saddle.”

“He’ll have to. He’ll ride with you on Coco. I’ll tether Charger and the stallions to Jingo.”

“What about Erin?”

“I’ll carry her with me. You stay with Heath while I gather everything.”

“Alright.” Nick continued to dad the sweat on Heath’s face with the back of his hand. “Hang on Heath. Can’t have you dying on Christmas. Who will trim the tree?” Nick joked to level the mountain he was sure he was building out of a mote hill. As Heath started to dry heave, Nick gently rolled him onto his side. “That’s it, get it all out.”

Once Jarrod had furled the bedspreads, packed up the utensils and readied the horses, Nick helped him lift Heath in his arms. He carried him over to Coco where Nick assisted him in hauling Heath onto the saddle. Jarrod held fast Heath’s limp body long enough for Nick to swing onto his horse’s saddle, behind Heath. Nick wrapped his arm around his sick brother’s chest to keep his body straight, his head resting against his shoulder. He waited for Jarrod to mount Jingo before he spurred Coco at a steady amble.

Halfawy into town, Heath started to retch. Nick reined back Coco and leaned his brother on the side so he could vomit. Then his body started convulsing. “Jarrod, he won’t make it to town. I’ll stay here with him while you go fetch the doctor.”

Jarrod squinted at the dim light beaming in the distance. “I think there’s a house up ahead.”

“Where?”

Jarrod pointed. “Right there.”

Nick’s eyes followed Jarrod’s finger. “Yeah. I see it. I hope the folks are friendly. Come on.” He nudged Coco onward.

A minute later, they arrived in front of the modest dwelling. Jarrod dismounted and banged on the door to rouse the occupants.

A middle-aged couple started out of sleep.

“What was that?” the woman asked in a panic.

“Somebody’s banging on the front door,” he told her as he stepped out of bed and slipped on his robe.

“Stan, you’d better take the rifle. It could be prowlers.”

“Prowlers don’t usually knock, Eloise. You stay here.”

“Stan, please. Take the rifle,” she begged.

“Alright,” he said with resignation. He grabbed the weapon hanging on the wall, loaded it with ammunitions and headed toward the living room while the woman followed at a distance.

Jarrod continued banging on the door until Stan opened it. “What are you trying to do young man, bash down my door?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you folks so late. My brother is awfully sick. He can’t make it all the way to town. So we were wondering if…”

Stan studied the young listless blond in Nick’s arms before he cut Jarrod in mid sentence. “Sure, get him in.” Stan opened the door wide for Nick to carry Heath inside.

“Thank you, sir.”

“This way,” Eloise beckoned Nick to bring Heath to a small bedroom adjacent to theirs. She quickly turned down the bed for Nick to gently lay Heath in the hollow of the soft warm bed. Jarrow followed with the sleepy Erin in his arms

Nick raked his hair back and wiped the sweat off his brow. “I’ll get the doctor.”

“No need,” Stan said as he entered the room with a medical bag. “I’m a doctor.”

Nick cast a look of surprise at Jarrod who closed his eyes in relief. He sent a silent prayer to the Heavens above for guiding them on the right doorstep.

Stan took Heath’s pulse and checked his pupil reflexes. “Eloise, could you bring me a jug of cold water, please?”

“Sure thing, Stan.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” Stan asked Nick and Jarrod. “Was he shot?”

“No. I checked him over for flesh wounds or bruises. Nothing. He just started groaning and shifting in his sleep. Then I realized he had a fever,” Nick explained with anxiety.

Stan unbuttoned Heath’s shirt to feel his chest for any sign of fractured ribs. When his hands traveled down to the abdomen, Heath flinched. Stan pressed against the stomach area that elicited a strong response. Heath’s face contorted in pain and his body bucked. “What did your brother eat?”

“Euh…same thing we did. Jack rabbit,” Nick answered promptly.

“Wait Nick, he ate some beans, remember?” Jarrod added.

“Canned beans?” Stan specified.

“Yeah.”

“That's it, then.”

“What?”

Stan got up and turned to the concerned brothers with a rueful look on his face. “Your brother is suffering from an acute case of food poisoning. It’s safe to assume those beans were spoiled,” he explained with a composed bearing, one that set Nick’s and Jarrod’s mind at ease as to the man’s medical skills.

Nick and Jarrod glanced at each other, both dreading their next question. “Will he be alright, doctor?” Nick asked apprehensively, steeling himself for the answer.

“The next few hours will tell if he’ll pull through. Did he eat the whole can.”

Once again, Jarrod and Nick quaked in the boots. “Yeah,” Nick breathed out.

Eloise came back into the room with the jug of water and a few clean towels.

“Then I’m afraid your brother’s in for a rough morning. Did he vomit?”

“Yeah, twice,” Nick was quick to answer, convinced it bore a significance on the severity of Heath’s illness.

“That’s good, then. He got rid of most of the tainted food.” He sat on the bed and took the damp towel that his wife handed to him to place across Heath’s forehead. She proceeded to dip a second washcloth into the washbowl and wrung it dry of its excess water before she wrapped it around Heath’s neck.

“Doctor, can’t you give him something for the pain?” Nick asked, aching to allay his brother’s torment.

“I’m afraid I can’t. It’ll only upset his stomach more than it already is. He has to ride out the fever and hopefully, he’ll weather the storm.” He turned to the aghast brothers, bolted to the floor. He smiled at their solicitude for their kin, wishing he could appease their fears. He stood and walked over to them. He put a hand of both brothers’ shoulder. “Listen. I’m not going to lie to you. The next hours will be pretty rough. If you want I can sit with him.”

“Thank you, Doctor, but we’re not leaving him,” Nick quavered with a voice broken by barely audible sobs.

Stan glanced back at his wife administering tender care to his patient. “Your brother seems like a strong man. He should do fine.”

Nick nodded and walked over to the bed. Eloise vacated her seat for the grieving man to sit by his brother. She walked back to her husband standing next to Jarrod. “He’s boiling.”

“I know, dear. It’ll get worse.”

“Is this your brother’s child?” she asked Jarrod, still holding Erin.

“No. We found her in the woods next to her dead mother. We’ve been unsuccessful at locating any of her kin in the towns we’ve visited.”

“The poor dear. May I hold her?”

“Sure.” Jarrod delicately placed the baby in Eloise’s arms.

“What do you intend to do with her?” She asked worriedly.

“We’re hopeful we can find her a nice home. We dread having to take her to the orphanage.”

At that moment, Erin’s tiny mouth opened wide to yawn. Her cute nose crinkled as she attempted to open her eyes. “Hi there, little one,” Eloise cooed. “What’s her name?”

“We don’t know. We named her Erin for the time being.”

“Isn’t she adorable, Stan?”

“Yes, she is.”

The baby’ dainty little arms began flailing about as she prepared to burst. Eloise patted her buttocks. “Oh, I believe the little one needs changing. Do you have any diapers?”

“Yes. In our saddlebags. I’ll go get them for you.”

As Jarrod left the room, Erin started crying.

“The baby! The baby’s crying” Heath wailed, his head jerking back and forth. He gripped the sheets and tried to heave himself out of bed.

“Heath, it’s okay. She’s fine.” Nick pushed him back down and cupped his head with both hands. “Listen to me. She’s fine.”

“Honey, you’d better go to the kitchen,” Stan suggested to his wife, seeing how the squalls upset his patient.

Heath batted his eyes frantically. “Nick?”

“Yeah, I’m right here, Heath.”

Heath clutched his stomach. “Nick it hurts,” he cried, staring beseechingly at his brother with a face distorted by pain.

“I know.” Nick rubbed his thumbs against Heath’s cheeks to soothe some of the agony his brother was experiencing. Heath’s martyr was tearing him to shreds.

“Wh…what’s wrong…with me?” Heath heaved out.

“It’s food poisoning.”

Heath’s body jerked to the right and he curled up in a foetal position. “Nick, help me.”

With tears running down his cheeks, Nick turned to the doctor with imploring eyes. “Please, can’t you give him something?”

“I told you, it’ll only make it worse. What I could do is inject him a small dose of morphine, but…”

“Do it!” Nick cut him off before he could finish his thought.

Realizing there was no reasoning with the disquiet man, Stan went to the dresser where he pulled out a flask of morphine and a syringe from his bag. He prepared the injection. “Hold him still,” he instructed Nick. When the patient was subdued to his liking, he dabbed Heath’s forearm with a cotton swab imbued with alcohol before he administered the injection. “Give it a few seconds.”

Nick slowly released his hold on Heath as he stopped thrashing about and drifted off to sleep. “Thank you.”

“I hate to resort to morphine to calm my patients. This stuff is highly addictive.”

“I know. But it’s often better than the alternative.”

Stan left the room just as Jarrod entered. “How is he?”

“Doc gave him some morphine to calm him down. You should have seen him. He was at his death throes.”

Jarrod pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat.

“I teased him about how his beans were gonna kill him someday.” Nick broke down and wept.

Jarrod hugged him tight and patted his back. “Come on, Brother Nick. Can’t give up on him. He’s going to pull through as he always does.”

Nick disengaged the embrace and wiped his tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just plumb tuckered out, is all.”

“Why don’t you get some rest on the living room sofa. I’ll stay with him.”

“No. I don’t wanna leave him.”

“Okay. I’ll go get us some coffee.” Jarrod stood and walked to the door. He glimpsed back at Nick, who was raising the covers over Heath’s chest, before he left.

As he neared the kitchen door, he overheard a conversation between the couple involving Erin. He stopped and listened in.

“I believe the Lord sent those people to our house, Stan.” She started crying. “He’s granted us our Christmas wish; the child I could never give you.”

“It’s not short of a miracle. But we don’t know if these people will let us adopt her.”

“Why not? One of the brothers said they were looking to find her a home,” she defended fiercely.

“That’s right,” Jarrod jumped in. “I’m sorry I was coming to get some coffee when I overheard your conversation.”

“That’s okay.”

“By the way, I’m Jarrod Barkley.” He extended his arm to shake Stan’s hand.

“I’m Stanley Collins. This is my wife. Eloise.”

“I’m a lawyer. I can help draw up the adoption papers.”

Eloise put her hand over her mouth to contain her emotions. “Oh Stan, can it be finally? Our own little girl?”

“Thank you Mister Barkley.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Jarrod heaved a shuddering breath. “Now let’s see if God can answer our Christmas wish.”

“He will,” Eloise said with a smile. “I will make you some coffee.”

“Thank you.”

Pink-tinged clouds hovered in the sky as dawn broke in the horizon. Jarrod had dozed off in a chair while Nick remained wide awake to keep vigil on Heath who was now lying deathly lethargic. His breathing was alarmingly shallow and his fever had risen to a 103. Exhausted, Nick removed his boots and lay on the bed next to his fever-ridden brother to listen to him breathe. He soon drifted off.

Five hours later, a hand came to rest on his arm. Nick pried open his strain eyes only to realize the hand belonged to Heath. Ecstatic, he raised himself up on one elbow and ran his hand across Heath’s forehead. The fever had broken. “Heath!” he whispered in his ear.

Heath acknowledged with a muffled groan. Nick could hardly contain his euphoria at his brother’s recovery. He raked his fingers through the blond hair. “Welcome back.”

Heath’s eyelids flickered but remained closed. He acknowledged Nick’s greeting in a weak smile. The second Christmas wish had been granted.