If you could look down on the place from the air, you might think no one lived there. Thick, unbroken forest stretches to the east, west, and south as far as the eye can see. To the north, a river empties into the blue-gray waters of Lake Erie.
But if you looked more closely, you'd spot a tiny settlement near the mouth of the river. Three log cabins stand in a clearing carved out of the forest. Surrounding them are a few acres planted with corn. From above, the corn plants look like a lush green carpet.
This is Cleveland, Ohio, as it was in the late summer of 1798, more than two hundred years ago. At a distance, it seems peaceful, even beautiful. But a terrible sickness is about to descend on the settlement. A sickness that could threaten its very existence . . .
Chapter 1. The Shakes and Fever
Flies buzzed in the hot room, but Seth Doan didn't notice them. The magical words he was reading carried him far away from the cabin on the Ohio frontier.
"And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son . . . ." Once again Seth was caught up in the story of Abraham and Isaac. It was one of his favorites in the family Bible -- the only book the Doans had brought with them on their long journey from Connecticut to northern Ohio.
Seth didn't have much time for reading. Most days he was busy with chores from the time the sun rose until it set. If he wasn't hauling water from the spring for his mother, he was helping his father clear more land to plant corn. Or he was off fishing for perch and pike in the shallow waters of Lake Erie.
Today was different, though. After the noon meal, when the August sun had risen high in the sky, his father had turned to Seth and said, "Why don't you stay inside and rest this afternoon, son?"
"But we need Seth's help in the cornfield," his mother protested. "We can't clear out the rest of the weeds by ourselves."
"Mercy can help us," his father said, quietly but firmly. Mercy was Seth's older sister.
His mother had frowned. "You spoil the boy," she said. "It won't hurt Seth to sweat a little." She ruffled her son's hair.
"I don't mind working outside," Mercy said. "Maybe there'll be a breeze." She had spent the morning cleaning the airless cabin.
And so it was settled. Mercy joined her parents in the cornfield while Seth sat on a stool near the cabin door to read the story of Abraham and Isaac. "And they came to a place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood."
Seth had read the story at least a hundred times. But he still felt a chill when he got to this part, about the sacrifice of Isaac. Just then he heard something from outside that sent a different kind of chill through him. It was his mother's voice. "Mercy!" she screamed.
Seth jumped up from the stool as his father hurried across the yard, carrying Mercy in his arms. His mother followed close behind. "What happened?" Seth asked fearfully as they pushed past him into the cabin.
"Mercy groaned," his mother said. "And then she fainted."
"What's wrong with her?"
"Don't know," Seth's father said. He laid Mercy gently on her pallet in a far corner. "She started shivering," Seth's mother said. "Then she broke out in a terrible sweat."
"We're afraid it may be the shakes and fever," Seth's father said, his voice low and anxious. He pulled a blanket up over Mercy, who had already dozed off.
Seth shuddered. The shakes and fever was one of the worst ailments a person could get. It latched itself onto you and wouldn't let go.
His father rose to his feet. "I'd best get back to work," he said.
"I'll stay here and look after Mercy," Seth's mother said. "Seth can go out to the field with you."
Mr. Doan turned to Seth. "I'm sorry to take you away from your reading, son," he said. "But I do need your help."
"All right, Pa," Seth said. He couldn't help sighing, though, as he put the Bible away on its special shelf.
His mother heard him. "Why are you sighing?" she said. "You got what you wanted, sitting here in the cabin and reading while we all slaved in the hot sun."
"Eliza . . . " Seth's father said gently.
But his mother wasn't to be stopped. "Maybe if you'd gone with us in the first place your sister wouldn't have gotten sick!"
"That's enough, Eliza," his father cut in. "Seth hasn't done anything wrong. You know he tires easily. I wanted him to have the afternoon off."
Seth backed away toward the fireplace. Why did his parents have to quarrel -- and especially about him?
"You're too easy on Seth," his mother said.
"Maybe I am," Mr. Doan said, reaching out to embrace his wife. "But he's the only son I have left."
Mrs. Doan looked up at her husband's sad expression. "Don't you think he's my son, too?" She began to cry, and Mr. Doan hugged her tighter.
Seth couldn't stand it any longer. He slipped through the cabin door without his parents seeing him, and stood for a moment looking around the clearing. Then, not knowing what else to do, he headed for the cornfield. He couldn't understand why his mother was so angry. Back in Connecticut, she'd always been the one who encouraged him to read.
Copyright © 2006 James Cross Giblin
This text is from an uncorrected proof.
