Wagon train promises, p.7
Wagon Train Promises, page 7
“Tell me how you managed schooling on top of taking care of your brothers.” It seemed a difficult task.
“My teachers were kind to me. They helped me a lot.” Her fingers curled and uncurled.
“Are your hands bothering you?” He covered one with his own.
The restless movement stopped. She drew in a sharp breath. When she made no effort to pull her hand free, he squeezed. Just enough to inform her he liked holding her hand. Not surprisingly, it had a solid feel to it.
“No, my hands are fine. Why do you ask?”
“You were making a fist and letting it go. I thought perhaps they ached.”
“Oh.” Her fingers twitched against his palm. “No.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “I suppose I was remembering what it was like. Feeling again the uncertainty.”
“What were you uncertain about?”
“If I could manage all the work. If I was doing good enough. If my brothers would be all right after losing their mother.” She lifted her free hand, palm to the sky. “So many things.”
“You’d lost your mother too. Did no one give you a shoulder to cry on?”
Her breath rushed in and ended on a strangled sob.
He did the only thing that felt right. If she didn’t like it, she must let him know. He put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.
For a heartbeat…two… she remained stiff and then sighed against him. Shudder after shudder rippled through her, but she didn’t show any other sign of sorrow. After a few minutes, she spoke.
“I simply had to get on with life.”
“Why is it I feel like that is your motto?” He brushed away strands of hair that tickled his face.
She laughed, the sound soft and warm against his chest. “I suppose it might be.”
Content to hold her, to have her let him hold her, he didn’t move.
A chill hit his chest as she eased back and sat with her head down, her face hidden as if unable to look at him. The thought that he’d offended her stung his heart.
“Louise, I didn’t mean to be bold. I only wanted to comfort you.” It seemed like someone should.
“No. No. I understand.” The log shifted as she got to her feet.
“Wait. What’s your rush?” He tugged on her hand, wanting her to sit down again.
“Hazel might need me.”
“Very well.” Her concern for her friend was noble. And unselfish. They’d gather wood and return to the campsite. But if Hazel didn’t need her attention, he meant to make the most of this time with Louise. Once they were back with the other wagons, she’d be with the other women. He’d be busy with camp chores.
But before that, he had her practically to himself. And he wasn’t about to waste that opportunity because every minute spent with her made him admire her more.
Not that he expected she would see him in the same way. What did he have to offer her?
There might not be a future, but there was the present.
They climbed over fallen logs while they gathered up deadwood. She went to the left as he stopped to pick up wood. His arms were full. It was time to head back.
The crash of something heavy falling shattered the air.
“Louise?” No answer. “Louise!”
He dropped his armload and made his way as fast as possible over uneven ground crisscrossed with mossy logs.
“Louise.” He rushed forward, his heart hammering in his chest.
CHAPTER 8
The ground slammed into Louise. Her armload of wood crashed around her. One thumped on her head. Another smashed into the back of her hand. Something dug into her ribs.
“Louise?”
She tried to answer, but nothing came from her mouth.
And no air went in.
The ground thudded as Cecil raced toward her. “Louise. What happened?”
Her chest hurt.
The thump of wood being tossed aside echoed in her head. Gentle hands touched her shoulder. “Can you get up?” He guided her to a sitting position.
A painful gust of air rushed into her lungs. She gasped, hungry for more.
Cool fingers brushed her brow. “What have you done to yourself?” He turned over her hands and examined them front and back. “You’ve a nasty bruise on this one.”
“I fell.” She blinked back at the log she’d climbed on to get over. “Lost my load of wood.”
“The wood doesn’t matter. How badly hurt are you?” His warm grasp on her shoulders made her lungs tighten again.
“I’m all right.” Maybe. With every breath, another portion of her body made itself known in a painful protest. “All I did was fall.” People survived falls all the time without so much as a bruise.
“There’s a cut on your forehead.” He touched the spot, and she winced. “And a nasty scratch down your cheek.” He trailed a fingertip down the right side of her face, presumably where he saw a scratch.
A shiver trickled across her shoulders.
“I’ll help you up.” He caught her elbows.
His face was inches away. Close enough she made out the laugh lines fanning out from his eyes. Dark eyes filled with concern. For her? Why? It unsettled her stomach. She lowered her gaze along his cheeks. Black stubble covered the lower part of his face. She might have shivered with fear at his dark intensity. Except he would never hurt her, and she managed a weak smile.
“I can do it on my own.”
He didn’t release her even when she got her feet under her and her legs straightened.
The trees wobbled and waved. She groaned and closed her eyes, willing away dizziness.
“Can you walk?”
Was the concern in his voice due to him wondering if he’d have to carry her back?
No one had ever had to worry about whether or not she could manage, and she sure wasn’t going to let it start now. “Of course, I can.”
But he chose not to believe her and held her elbow as they climbed over the log that had caused this upset and retained it as they crossed the clearing.
She pulled back. “What about the wood?”
“Unless it sprouts legs or wings, it isn’t going anywhere. I’ll get it later. First, you need to get back to camp where you can sit.”
She tried to pull free, but he wouldn’t release her. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no point in going back empty-handed.”
“I’m not empty-handed.” His gentle chuckle warred with her determination to manage on her own. “Louise, it’s all right to let someone help you. You don’t always have to be the strong person in charge.”
Protests sputtered from her mouth. Words with no definable shape. “I don’t think I have to be in charge.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“You say the right thing, but I don’t think you mean what you say.”
“You could be right.”
“Why are you being so agreeable?”
Another gentle chuckle. “It seems someone should be.”
The wagon and dying campfire were a few yards ahead. How had they gotten out of the woods?
She flung around to stare at him, the movement making her head spin. Not that she’d ever, ever let him know it. “Did you trick me?”
“Did I?” His eyes twinkled leaving her dizzy and confused.
They crossed the last few feet.
“Here. Sit down.”
She sat only because refusing seemed childish.
“I’m going to make tea.” He added two pieces of wood to the fire and hung a pot of water over the flames. Before she could voice the protest rushing to her mouth, he continued. “You can have some if you like.”
“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” Peevishness edged her words.
“What?” He poured hot water over tea leaves.
“Being nice so I can’t refuse.”
Loud laughter roared from him. He tried to say something but couldn’t.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, doing her best to appear annoyed. But, honestly, how could she be when his laughter sang through her? When he was so nice?
He sobered and leaned close. “Louise, haven’t you learned that I am a nice person?”
His eyes narrowed, and he straightened, hurried to the wagon to speak to Hazel, and returned with a clean cloth that he dampened with the warm water. He leaned over her again, took her chin in his hand, and dabbed at her cheek.
She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look into his face that was close enough his breath became hers. “Cecil?” His name jerked from her tight throat, but the protest she wanted to utter died before it was born.
“There’s no point in resisting. Your scratches need cleaning, and I’m going to do it.”
Swallowing hard, she endured his ministrations.
The warm cloth whispered over her skin. Gentle as a kitten’s touch. Soothing.
“That’s better.”
Was he finished? Not wanting to leave the sweet cocoon she’d fallen into, she didn’t open her eyes to check.
He picked up her hand. “Your hand is swollen. It’s going to be sore for a few days.” Cool fingers trailed along her skin. “Louise?”
She forced her eyes open. Met his demanding, commanding, gentle gaze. A lump settled into her chest, making it hard to breathe. She scrubbed her lips together, striving for control.
“Would you tell me if you were hurt elsewhere?”
His concern was almost her undoing.
Hazel, carrying Petey, joined them at the fire. “I heard you’d had a fall.”
Louise sucked in air that opened her lungs and released her from her bemused state.
“It’s nothing. I thought I could climb over a log with my hands full, but the moss was slippery.” The smile she offered barely moved her lips. “I’ve just got a few bruises.”
Hazel studied her. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m all right.” The only pain she felt had nothing to do with her fall. Why had she let herself be drawn in a direction that wasn’t for her?
She was going to Fort Taylor to be a nurse. And although she didn’t have any ironclad plans, she now made up her mind. She would go to some distant outpost, far away from Fort Taylor and those she traveled with. She’d be one of those nurses who devoted themselves to the care of others.
Hadn’t ministering to others been her goal from the beginning? Even before she entered nurses’ training? She’d held the tiny, dying baby in her arms and wished she could do more. She’d stood by helpless as her mother passed away. Maybe if she’d known more, she could have prevented both deaths. As a nurse now, she knew it was possible to prevent infection, to offer comfort, and—
She was about to push to her feet and get on with the work before her when Cecil put a cup of tea in her hands.
“Relax and enjoy a warm drink.” He perched beside her.
She bent over the cup and inhaled the steam. It did nothing to soothe her trembling nerves.
He drew his legs up, his heels furrowing the ground.
The liquid in her cup jostled as her arms twitched. Why must she be so aware of every move he made? It was silly. Not like her at all. She sucked in air again, but this time, it caught in her throat. She coughed.
A hot drink would clear it, and she gulped a mouthful. And proceeded to choke.
Cecil patted her on the back. His hand warm, comforting—
Good grief. Had she hit her head harder than she thought? Left some of her brains on the ground back there?
“I’m fine,” she sputtered and sipped the liquid. Desperate for rescue, she looked around for Hazel. Where was her friend when Louise needed her? There she was. Wandering down the trail with Petey. Why wasn’t she here with Cecil?
Louise leaned forward, intending to set the cup down. But her hand trembled, and she drew back. What was wrong with her? How could she be acting this way? She’d been strong when her mother passed, when her brothers moved on. When she traveled alone to the big city of Toronto and began her training. She stiffened her spine. She wasn’t about to let a little fall make her weak.
Though it wasn’t so much the fall—
That’s all it was. All it could be.
To prove it to herself, she scooted back and ignored the trembling of her fingers as she sipped the tea.
“That’s better. Relax for a few minutes. You don’t always have to be taking care of people or chores.”
Is that how he saw her?
She jammed the cup on the nearest log stool and almost pushed to her feet. But wouldn’t that prove his point?
“I’m not working when I read.”
“True.” He ducked to look into her face. “And I enjoy the story. Maybe you’ll read some more tonight.”
“Of course.” Hazel was a dozen yards down the trail, squatting at Petey’s side. Had they found a bug to examine? Or a pretty rock? Why couldn’t she get back here and entertain Cecil?
Except—
Louise swallowed hard.
Except she didn’t really want her to.
Cecil had never seen Louise so fidgety. Had she hurt herself more than she admitted? The wood he’d brought earlier would see them through the night, which was a good thing because he didn’t intend to leave the camp anytime soon.
“Do you want more tea?” He nodded toward her empty cup.
She flicked a bit of ash off her skirt. “Thank you, but no.” Her gaze went past him in the direction Hazel and Petey had gone. Then that brown-eyed gaze slid to him, paused, and grew intent. An unsteady breath shuddered through her before her attention shifted back to Hazel.
He waited. Why was she so nervous? Or was she trying to hide the pain? The dark bruises on her face might not be her only injuries.
Wanting to comfort her, he pressed his hand to her arm.
A jolt shook her. She gulped. Her gaze jerked to his, her eyes wide as moons.
He smiled, doing his best to show his concern. To make her feel at ease. “I just want to make certain you’re not hurting too badly.”
“I’m fine. I told you so already.”
Her sharpness annoyed him. “Well, maybe I’m not.”
Surprise flashed over her expression.
“When I heard you fall and saw you on the ground—” His throat closed off, and he couldn’t finish. Just thinking of it felt like a runaway horse raced through his chest, pounding and thumping and crowding so he couldn’t get in enough air to dispel the sensation.
Her gaze remained steady. Holding his.
His heart slowed.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she whispered.
“Of course, you didn’t.” His voice surprised him. Soft. Like he spoke to his grandmother to soothe her fears and worries. Which wasn’t surprising seeing as he wanted to comfort Louise.
He brushed his fingers along her cheek, careful not to exert any pressure on the darkening bruise. “You hurt yourself.” The words grated from his throat.
Her lips parted as if she meant to say something, but then her mouth closed.
Did he imagine she tipped her head toward his touch?
“Louise.” He breathed her name.
Her eyelids lowered halfway, then drifted open, her gaze searching his, delving deep. Looking for something.
He wished he could give her what she wanted.
“Louise,” he whispered her name again.
Something behind him caught her attention, and she blinked, sat back, and drew in a breath that seemed to go on forever.
Her gaze did not return to his. Instead, she studied her clasped hands.
He waited, but she didn’t look at him.
Petey’s babble drifted past, and then Hazel’s laughing reply. They had returned, making Louise pull back. Just when he thought she might begin to see him as something more than a fellow traveler.
She pushed to her feet and stood a moment as if needing to get her balance. “Hazel, you can sit here.” She indicated the stool she’d vacated even though there were others. “Let Petey play with Cecil.”
And then she slipped away. Potlids rattled as she lifted them.
Hazel stopped a few feet from the campfire. Was she as confused by Louise’s behavior as he was? The way her brows went up, and her eyes widened, she must be.
At least, Hazel appeared much improved over the last couple of days. Or was she hiding it? “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Good. I’m good.” She edged close to Louise. “How are you? Your face is certainly bruised.”
Louise pressed her fingers to her cheek. “I’m sure it looks worse than it is.” A potlidclanged into place. “But it’s only bruises.”
Petey had been at his mother’s side but toddled toward Cecil. “Play.” He caught his toe on the uneven ground and fell.
His outstretched hands headed straight for the hot coals.
CHAPTER 9
Louise was doing her best to pretend she wasn’t there, a spectator to Hazel and Cecil’s interest in each other.
Hazel’s gasp drew Louise’s attention. Her heart crashed against her ribs as Petey stumbled. He was going to land face-first in the fire, and she was too far away to catch him.
Cecil scooped up the baby. “You don’t want to be going that direction.”
Hazel rushed forward to hold Petey. With her son still in Cecil’s arms, the three of them shared a group hug.
The perfect picture of a complete family. This was exactly what Louise wanted for her friends. Even though a short time ago, she’d been sitting next to Cecil enjoying his attention. Of course, he was concerned she might have injured herself. He wouldn’t want an invalid on his hands. Thankfully, Hazel had improved, so he wasn’t looking at having two incapacitated women on his hands.
Louise turned her back to the three of them. Their presence and murmurs crowded her, and she went to the bank overlooking the river. The rumble of the water eased away her troubled thoughts.
Bertie wandered along on the far side. Seeing her, he waved and shouted. The noisy river drowned out his words.
She waved back. If only they could join the others. She could spend time with one of the other women, or even Bertie. Life would settle back into the calm routine of the past weeks.
