Nate leveled a look on his brother. “They won’t give you anything? Doc said he’d give you small doses of laudanum to wean you off. And he’ll also give you something different to help with the pain.”
But, thank the Lord, the doctor had moved the addicting stuff to some other location where Aaron couldn’t find it. That morning Laura had come upon him in such a stupor, his condition was because he’d somehow managed to get into the storeroom and find the key to the locked drawer where the doctor kept a bottle of laudanum. That couldn’t happen now.
But Aaron had to have hope that he wouldn’t be forced to deal with unrelenting pain day after day.
Nate released his own sigh and slumped against the chair back. “I’ll see what I can do. But you have to promise you’ll pull out of this slump. Do those exercises the doc showed you. He said you could even be walking with sticks now if you’d been doing them when he first said to.” Although Aaron had apparently used the walking sticks to get the laudanum. Was he more capable than he let on?
Surely not. Surely if Aaron could get around without help, nothing would keep him in this room. That must have been driven by sheer desperation. He’d seen that motivation push men into much harder things.
“I will, Nate.” The earnestness in Aaron’s voice eased some of the tension coiled in Nate’s shoulders. “I know I haven’t done the exercises the way I’m supposed to. They just make my leg hurt more. And I get so tired of the pain. If you can get me something to help, I’ll do better. I promise.”
Nate stood and moved to his brother’s bedside. He gripped Aaron’s shoulder, feeling the fleshiness that had taken over where firm muscle once dominated. “I’ll talk to the doctor now.”
Laura squeezed her eyes shut against the lightheaded sensation. When she opened them again, the world seemed a little firmer. Good.
She reached into the wash bucket and pulled out another plate, but another spasm shot through her, nearly doubling her over with its intensity. She clutched the work counter.
Had there been something wrong with the beans and cornbread she’d served? Both had been cooked fresh, and she didn’t usually suffer ill effects from beans like some did. But the cramping in her belly bespoke something very wrong.
Were Ingrid and Doc Micah afflicted by the same pain and clamminess? Poor Ingrid. At least she’d been feeling a little better today, but rancid food was the last thing she needed to suffer in her delicate condition.
Bile churned, rising up to her throat. She inhaled a slow, deep breath, trying to stave off what seemed determined to come. Panic swamped her as she scrambled for an empty pot. She’d barely plunged her face into it before the first heave came.
Over and over they surged, until finally she had no accounts left to cast up. A hand rested on her back, soft and gentle. Only Ingrid could manage a touch so soothing.
Laura pulled the stray tendrils of hair away from her face, then took the damp cloth Ingrid handed her. The rag cooled her face, a welcome relief after the episode.
“I suppose I’m rubbing off on you.” Ingrid’s voice held a gentle smile. “Although I hope your reason for being sick isn’t the same as mine.”
Laura took in another breath, still holding the wet cloth to her face as she shook her head. Finally, she pulled the rag down beneath her chin and turned to Ingrid. “No, definitely not the same reason.” Best to quell that idea quickly. “Maybe the beans didn’t sit well with me.”
Ingrid’s brows lowered and worry fanned lines at the edges of her eyes. “I hope you haven’t come down with the same thing Micah’s been treating on the east side of town. Didn’t you take medicine there yesterday?”
A sinking feeling dropped in her middle, starting up a fresh churning there. She could still see the tiny Wilkerson cottage, with Mrs. Wilkerson as pale as death itself, eyes so deep in shadows. And the mister not looking much better, even though he was trying to keep up with tending them both.
And his mother. A weight pressed hard on her chest. People had died of this. She spat a bit of the bile left in her mouth and turned from the counter. Away from Ingrid. “I’m sure that’s not it. I’ll just finish cleaning up, then rest for a minute.”
“No, you won’t.” Ingrid came behind and gave her shoulders a nudge. “Go lie down. You’ve nursed me for weeks now. The least I can do is clean my own kitchen.”
A wave of chills passed through Laura, stealing the refusal she should have given. Lying down for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. This would pass all the sooner with a short rest.
Twenty
She’s been in bed for two days?” Nate wanted to spin and march back out of his brother’s room, down the hall, and barge through Laura’s door. He wouldn’t, of course, but his entire body coiled at the thought of what might make her so ill that she couldn’t get out of bed.
She hadn’t even stayed in her room this long when she’d been unable to walk on her sprained ankle.
He studied his brother. “How do you know?” Maybe she simply hadn’t come to wait on Aaron. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep her distance from the man who bellowed insults about her at the top of his lungs just days ago.
Aaron shrugged. “Doc’s wife told me. She’s been the one bringin’ meals now. Her or the doc.”
A twitch started in Nate’s right eye. He needed to see what was wrong with Laura. He couldn’t tell if the twist in his gut was simply worry or an awful premonition.
Brushing his brother off would be rude, so he tried to relax enough to be decent company, at least for a few more minutes. He inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled out as much tension as he could with the spent air. “How’re the exercises coming?”
A snort filled the air. “Without decent pain medicine, not so well.”
His muscles tightened again. “I spoke with Doc Bradley. He said he’d give you something whenever you asked for it.”
“That watered-down drink he calls tea doesn’t do a thing. And he’s only giving me a few drops of laudanum.”
The doctor must still be weaning Aaron off the laudanum. From the way Aaron tended to exaggerate when he was in a mood, the doc was probably using a little more than Aaron made it sound. And the “watered-down tea” must be the other pain remedy the doctor had spoken of. He should ask, just to be certain.
In the meantime, he focused on the other fact the doctor had shared. “He said you shouldn’t be experiencing very much pain anymore. The incision site is healing the way it should. You might have some discomfort from the exercises for a few days, but once you work through it, it won’t hurt as much the next time. I told him you’ve always been able to push through more than a little pain.” Hopefully that last bit would prod Aaron’s pride enough to get him started.
“That should tell you this is more than a little pain.” His brother sent him a glare.
Nate clamped his jaw against a grunt of frustration. He wouldn’t be able to hold it down much longer, so he pushed to his feet. “Buck up, Aaron. I’ll talk to the doc again, but you better make sure you’re doing your part, too. We all have to do our part.”
He turned and marched out the door before his brother could respond. He had a feeling anything Aaron said would only make him angrier.
Nate stepped into the hallway and paused to listen for sounds that might tell him where the doctor was. Voices murmured from the living quarters, so Nate turned that way. He shot a look at Laura’s closed door but kept himself from stopping to knock.
“Doc Bradley?” He paused before he reached the hallway to the doctor’s private area.
The voices stopped, then the sound of footsteps accompanied a call of “Be right there.”
The doc was in his shirtsleeves and brushing something from his hands as he stepped through the doorway. He raised his brows when he saw Nate. “How’s your brother feeling tonight?”
“Says his leg’s still hurting pretty bad. Before I ask about that, though, he also said that Laura’s ill.”
The doctor’s brows rose again, an obvious que
stion in his eyes. “It looks like the same illness we’re fighting on the east side of town. From what I’ve seen, it’s very contagious, so I’ve asked her to stay confined to her chamber.”
Relief washed through him like an avalanche. “So she’s not really that ill? She’s just in there to keep from spreading the sickness?”
“Well . . . she’s certainly not fine.” The doctor’s frown tightened all his nerves again.
“Is there any way I can see her? Talk to her from a distance, maybe?” Why did this feel so important? The doctor wouldn’t allow it, surely, and if she was in her bedchamber, he shouldn’t go in. Would it be less improper because of her illness? He really had no idea about such rules.
The doctor’s brows lowered so his eyes were only slits. “Is there a message I can pass along?”
Nate scrubbed a hand through his hair. Was there one thing he wanted the doctor to tell her? How could he narrow it down? “I just . . . wanted to see her. To see if there’s anything . . .”
With a sigh, he met the doctor’s gaze. He’d have to just pass on simple well-wishes and hope Laura understood how much he meant them.
But the doctor spoke before Nate could open his mouth. “I suppose if she feels well enough for a visit, you can stand in the doorway and talk a few minutes.” He leveled a firm look on Nate. “No more than a few. She’s still very weak.”
The breath gushed out of him as another wash of relief passed through. “Thank you, sir.”
He waited like a nervous schoolboy while the doctor slipped into Laura’s room to make sure she was up to a visit. He could hear Doc Bradley’s deep murmur, but not Laura’s response. Was she asleep, or so ill she couldn’t speak?
The door opened again, this time wider. The doctor stepped out. “Don’t go past this doorframe. And please don’t overtire her.” The man gave him a pointed look, then stepped into the hallway and headed toward his private quarters.
Nate turned his focus on the chamber, honing in on the bed where he could just see the rise of blankets that must be covering Laura’s feet. He stepped almost to the doorway, and her head came into view.
The covers swallowed her up, leaving only her face framed by brown hair. Yet even her face appeared smaller than before, sinking deep into the pillow. She looked . . . tiny.
Fragile.
His heart fractured, and he stepped forward. “Laura?” Barely in time, he remembered the doctor’s command not to pass the doorway. He stopped there, but every part of him wanted to close the distance between them. Run his hands over her brow and know she was still whole. And well.
Her dark eyes were only half open, as though she was so exhausted she couldn’t manage anything more. She parted her lips slowly. “Nate.” A flash of pain crossed her face as she spoke the faint, scratchy word. His name. The last thing he wanted was to add any more agony than what she was already experiencing.
“Don’t speak, my love. Rest. I had no idea you were ill, or I would have come sooner.” His chest ached so much he could barely draw breath. Could she die from this sickness? Oh, God, no. Heal her. Please. Make her well.
Her mouth pulled in the slightest of curves while her eyes drifted shut. As if the one act took all her strength so she could no longer keep her lids open.
“I need to let you rest, but please know I’ll be praying for you to get well.” With every breath he’d be praying. The thought of losing her sent another surge of fear charging through him, but he combated it with another petition heavenward.
Her eyes cracked, and she seemed to be working to speak again. He wanted to stand by her side, press a finger to her mouth, and tell her not to work so hard. To be silent and allow herself to recover.
“Stay.” Again her voice emerged raspy, like she hadn’t spoken in weeks. “Tell me . . . of your day.” Her eyes had closed again, and her pretty features squeezed into a grimace as she spoke.
If she wanted him to stay so badly that she would make the request through so much pain, he’d gladly comply.
“I will, but you must rest. Don’t speak. Just close your eyes and sleep if you can.”
Her face relaxed, which was exactly the answer he wanted from her.
He struggled to force his mind back to his day, to something lighthearted he could share that would bring her pleasure in the midst of her misery. His mind couldn’t summon anything especially cheerful. Perhaps just giving the details of his days would suffice.
“I moved my things to the cave Sunday eve. I knew I’d have a bit of a challenge getting used to living in the dark all the time, but in that big cavern where the stream runs, the fire gives the whole place a bit of a lighter feel. Not so stifling. And there’s enough daylight coming through the connecting entrance that I can still get up early enough. It’s not as smoky in there as I thought it would be, either. I think there might be a hole in the rock where the smoke is escaping, maybe where the water runs out. I haven’t searched for it yet, but I plan to.
“Eagle Soaring is getting a little stronger every day. He’s not walking on his own yet, but I help him to the privy when he needs it. I’m not sure it’s the pain from his wounds that’s keeping him down so much as just weakness from being so aged. I’ve tried to estimate how old he might be. Maybe seventy? He looks a whole lot older, but I’m thinking hard life in the sun and these freezing winters did that part.”
He was rambling, but the words just kept coming. Laura’s face had taken on a look so peaceful, her mouth curving up a little, that he must not be boring her entirely.
“I make sure Bright Sun keeps the fire going even when I’m not there, mostly for the light. That cavern stays warm enough with the hot springs, but I don’t think it’s good for those two to live in complete darkness. Can’t be healthy. Since I’m helping bring in enough firewood, she doesn’t seem to mind keeping a flame burning.
“She’s such a good child. Obedient to whatever I ask and so attentive to her grandfather.” A burn climbed up his throat. “She’s lucky to have him.” Did both of them know just how blessed they were to have each other? He suspected they did, at least in part.
“When our ma died, Aaron and I would have done anything for a grandfather or any family member to raise us until we could stand on our own. We had people who took us in, but we never stayed in one place very long.”
Now that he was older, he could be thankful for each one. Even those who told them daily how much trouble they were, like the uncle who switched them for every infraction. From what he remembered, none of their sins had been so awful—not bringing in firewood each morning without being asked, not dropping on their bed pallet each night the moment they were told to. But he and Aaron must have been considerable trouble for one relation after another to send them away.
But they’d tried. God knew he and Aaron had tried to be helpful, tried not to be too much of a drain on those who were willing to keep a roof over their heads and let them sit at the family table.
Maybe if being good hadn’t been so hard, Aaron wouldn’t have been as eager to jump into the easier life when Isaac approached them all those years ago. If only they’d both known that life on the run, always looking over their shoulder, always smothered with a mountain of guilt, would really be the hardest existence they ever could have chosen.
He sighed. That was behind them.
Now he’d been given a chance to help someone else. He’d do everything in his power to keep Bright Sun and her grandfather together, and restore them to their own people, if possible.
He blinked, refocusing on his surroundings. Laura had asked him to talk, but how long had he been silent, wrapped in his thoughts? She still lay with her eyes shut, face serene, steady breaths barely lifting the blanket. Had she heard much of what he said?
He’d always craved the chance to watch her openly, to take in every beautiful feature with all his senses. To memorize every nuance of her.
But just now, the pallor of her skin and the darkness shadowing her beautiful eyes made his heart ach
e. She needed sleep—deep, restful sleep.
He’d best be on his way so he didn’t wake her. He still had so much to do if he was going to help a certain girl and her grandfather live the life they deserved.
Twenty-One
Every part of Laura ached, but at least she hadn’t been doubled over a bedpan in several hours. She’d long since had nothing left inside her to cast up, but the dry heaves still came with a vengeance. This was the longest spell without vomiting she’d managed in . . . she had no idea how many days. Seemed like half a lifetime.
A soft knock sounded on her chamber door, and her heart leapt in a hopeful surge. The tap was too gentle to be Nate, but that still didn’t keep her from longing for him to come again. The small bit of insight he’d given into his and Aaron’s childhood made her ache for him—for him and Aaron both. If they’d had a father and mother who raised them until they were fully grown, would they have ever joined Bill’s gang?
And if they hadn’t, would her and Nate’s paths have ever crossed? She couldn’t ponder that now.
She tried to swallow before she pushed her voice over her raw throat, burned from so much bile passing through. “Enter.”
The door pushed open, but it wasn’t Ingrid’s smile that appeared in the opening.
“Joanna.” Laura tried to sit up as joy rushed over her. “What are you doing here?”
Joanna stepped inside, a tray in her hands. “We came into town for supplies, but when I heard about everything happening here, I decided to stay overnight to help out.”
Laura looked to the doorway. “Isaac and Samuel are with you? And Mr. Bowen?” Joanna and Isaac were still newlyweds, and the love between them was obvious with a single glance. She had a feeling that if Joanna was staying the night in town, Isaac would be nearby, likely with little Samuel perched atop his shoulders.
Joanna’s cheeks and ears turned pink. “Isaac’s pa stayed at the cabin to tend the animals. My husband and son are getting settled in a room at the hotel.”
Faith's Mountain Home Page 16
