We had a big well, father and the boys had dug a 60 foot deep well and we had awful good water. People would say, "Where is a good place to camp?" and they would say "Up to Millers, they have got the best water around here."

Here they would come, sometimes three or four wagons, driving in about sundown and always stay three or four days. They lived in their wagons. We didn't furnish their food, but they would cook on mother's stove.

My brothers and I got friendly with the kids. When I was little there was one family named Nowell that came on a summer day and stayed longer than most. John Nowell was Oscar's age and we liked him. John said his mother was feeling poorly. We didn't see her and I worried for fear John's mother would die.

I was a born worrier. Mama said no one was born a worrier, I had just made worry a habit and God could help me get over that practice. She told me that I should talk to God and tell Him about my fears. She wrote down verses from the Bible for me to memorize. She made me learn the Lord's prayer and I had to say it back to her so she'd be sure I knew it by heart. She said the words "Thy Will be done" were real important. But I was secretly a worrier.

One time in the middle of the night a banging on the door woke me up. I looked into the front room and there was Mr. Nowell talking to Papa, both were dressed in their unionsuits and Mama was in her long flannel nightgown. It was an unheard of sight and I was curious so I crawled out of bed and went into the living room.

"What's going on?" I asked rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Go back to bed," Papa ordered. "Everything is all right. Mama has to go help Mrs. Nowell."

I tried to be quiet, but I was sure that John's Mother was going to die. I went back to bed but I didn't go back to sleep. We had feather beds. Mama always saved the feathers from when she killed the hens. When you laid down the feather bed was so soft it was like a pair of arms rocking you back to sleep but I was determined to stay awake. I was worried but maybe if I prayed hard enough God would keep John's mother alive. I started praying and then just for good measure I added the Lord's prayer.

But my resolution to stay awake and talk to God didn't pan out, because pretty soon I was awake and the sun was shining. I'd fallen down on the job. I jumped out of bed as fast as I could and ran out. Was John's Mother dead? Mama wasn't in the house. Oscar was sitting at the table grumbling because there wasn't any breakfast. Breakfast was a big meal at our house, we had things like oatmeal, ham and eggs, sausage, pancakes, butter and molasses, fried potatoes, even left over baked beans warmed up. Sometimes Mama would fix hot biscuits. But this morning there wasn't anything.

"Where's Mama?" I asked.

"I don't know," Oscar mumbled. "I'm starving. You could cook something."

"Well," I said "I guess I could fix something." I was worried, Mama must still be in the wagon with John's mother. I started getting out the things to make pancakes when Oscar yelled, "Here she is."

Mother came in. She says "Children, John Nowell has got a little brother."

Both Oscar and I says, "Oh, where did he get him?" we were so concerned about it.

Mama says "Why a wagon drove up here last night and they put him off and kept going."

My brother said, "I heard that wagon drive up."

After breakfast Mama took Oscar and I out to see John's new little brother. It was the first time we had seen his mother and she was laying in a bed in the wagon with the new baby beside her. I was glad that my fears didn't come true.

Dr. Johnson was the only doctor in town and he was kept busy so much that he needed help. People figured that since she had raised all of us, Mama knew just about as much about healing folks as Doctor Johnson did. She had her own remedies to keep us well. She said that winter thickened the blood so every spring we took doses of sulphur and molasses to thin our blood.

It seemed like anytime a person was hurt or sick someone would come to get Mama. "I should have been a nurse," she laughed.

Sometimes they brought people who had been hurt to our house and if they were bleeding Mama would take her thread and needle and sew them up. I had a weak stomach so I always ran outside until one day Mama laid the law down.

"Sarah," she said. "Seems like I'm gettin' more people all the time to look at and I need you to help me."

"But I can't help when you're sewing people up," I protested. "It makes me sick."

"That's when I need you the most," she said. "You'll just have to get over that."

"But how can I?" I asked. "I'd probably faint dead away if I had to see that needle and thread going into someone's skin."

"You better not," she warned. "Remember you have to face your fears to get over them."

"But Mama," I argued. "You're the one who knows all about curing people. You heal them."

"Oh, no," she said. "I don't heal anyone. God is the only one who can heal. He tells me what to do."

Well, he hadn't told me what to do but I knew I better not tell Mama that. "All right, Mama," I said. I was skeptical. Maybe I'd be lucky and no one would get hurt when Dr. Johnson wasn't around.

But it was only a few days later that some folks brought a girl who had fallen down and cut her arm. It was gushing blood. Mother put the girl in her and Papa's bed.

"Sarah," Mama called. "I need your help. Bring some clean rags and the pan with hot water in it." I could do that easy enough, but when I brought it in to the bedroom Mama gave me more directions.

"Get a spoon and the medicine," she told me. I got the jar of medicine. I don't know what was in it but it smelled like whiskey. Mother gave her a spoonful of medicine. Then she looked at me and said, "Now, you wash that arm off."

"Me?" I asked shuddering.

"You," she said. "I need to get my thread and needle."

Oh, no, I thought and my stomach suddenly felt like there was a windmill inside it as I looked at that arm. I was sure I was going to throw up as I scrubbed the arm.

Mama came back and took over. I started to leave.

"No," she said. "You stay here. I want you to help me."

"But Mother," I protested. She gave me a warning look and I hushed up. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Hold the arm so she doesn't move it," she said. I must have looked as sick as I felt because she added, "Don't forget to pray, Sadie"

I held the girl's arm but I tried to close my eyes.

"You're scaring her, Sarah," Mama chided me. "She knows how you feel."

"How?" I asked.

"She knows. Stop it."

I didn't want to scare the poor girl so I started praying under my breath. I said the Lord's prayer as I watched Mama pull that needle and thread through the arm and close up the cut. The more I said "Thy Will be done" the stronger I felt.

Finally Mama was done. "There," she said. "We're finished."

"Well," I smiled at the girl. "That wasn't so bad was it?" She grinned and gave me a teary smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Miller," the girl's mother said. "I wish I could pay you something but I don't have any money."

"I'm glad to do it," Mama said.

After they left Mother and I sat down at the table for a drink of fresh lemonade. I felt closer to her than I had since I was a little girl.

"I'm proud of you, Sadie," she said. "You did fine."

"Not me," I answered. "It was only because God helped me."

It wasn't the last time I helped Mama sew someone up, but I never got used to watching that needle and thread go through someone's skin. I sure was glad when another doctor came to town and he and Doctor Johnson opened up a hospital in his home. If people couldn't afford to pay the doctors they took vegetables for their pay. Mama's business wasn't too good after that but every once in awhile she still sewed someone up. I don't know how mother ever lived to be 85 years old.