Slowly she took in her surroundings—the oak chest her papa had made, the chair in the corner, her mama’s quilt pulled up close around her. Her mama’s quilt! She sighed and stretched, and as she did, a pain shot through her shoulder and down into her leg. She raised the covers and saw the cloth splint strapped on her ankle, and then she remembered her papa carrying her out of the cave and the ride to the hospital and the doctor who had put the splint on her.
“It was just a dislocation, Mr. Springer,” the doctor had said. “But we better splint it for a week until we know it’s in place to stay.”
Jenny lay back and nuzzled the quilt against her cheek. Then she noticed something different about the quilt. She lifted herself up on one elbow and looked down. It wasn’t her familiar star quilt, i
