Gabe figured they could have talked nonstop for weeks, but he felt the temperature drop. “We need to turn back.”
“Do we have to?” April sounded forlorn.
“We’d better, unless you want to bed down out here in the wilds without fire or a bedroll,” Peter responded.
“I’ve done it afore.” Johnna didn’t look in the least bit afraid.
“Your brothers will scalp me if I don’t have you back soon,” Gabe said.
Laurel laughed. “Only because they’ll be wanting supper.”
“It’s best we go back,” Kate nudged her mare. “We have to cross that open area, and I want to give Myrene her head. If the sun’s setting, I’ll be too worried about gopher holes to allow her free rein.”
Her mare brushed a low-lying branch, and a few bees took off. Gabe watched them zoom around in angry flight, then circle Laurel. “Don’t swat at them!”
“I know better.” A moment later, she stiffened and her mare sidestepped skittishly. Air hissed in through Laurel’s teeth.
Seven
Sting. The word didn’t begin to describe the horrid burning Laurel felt. She’d counted three stings, but it might as well have been a dozen for the fiery feeling.
“Laurel?” Gabe brought his horse alongside hers and dipped his head to get a good look at her.
“Oh, no. You’re stung,” Kate moaned. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”
“There’s prob’ly more where those came from.” Peter tilted his head to the side. “Let’s move.”
Gabe reached over and took Laurel’s reins. Thankful, she released them as it allowed her to try to pull the stinger out of her wrist.
“Leave those alone a minute. I’ll help you get the stingers out.” His voice sounded both firm and calm as he led her horse.
“We have tweezers back at camp,” April called back.
Unsure just how far they were from camp since she’d been too busy enjoying the ride to determine whether they’d curved around, Laurel winced. She didn’t think she could bear the stingers that long.
“There’s a clearing to the right about fifty yards ahead,” Gabe directed. “Stop there.”
That’s not too far. But we won’t have tweezers. Laurel clenched her hands together to keep from trying to pull out the stinger.
“Whoa.” Her dappled mare obediently stopped at Gabe’s command. He dismounted, reached up, and cupped Laurel’s waist. “C’mere, princess.” He swept her down to earth. “There’s a log over here. Let’s have you take a seat.”
Laurel nodded. Seconds later, Gabe knelt before her. He took a knife from the sheath on his belt. “I’m going to flick the stinger out.”
“You’ll cut it,” Kate objected.
“We always use tweezers back home,” April told him.
“I’ll use the back of the knife, not the blade.” Gabe proceeded to curl his warm, large hand around Laurel’s wrist. “Hold still.”
“ ’Kay.”
He pulled the skin taut and did just as he’d promised. The stinger came free, and he brushed it away. “Now where else did they get you?”
“My cheek.”
“Oh, lookie. Thar’s one on yore throat, too.” Johnna sat next to her and took hold of her hand. “Peter, mix up some mud. These gotta smart something dreadful, and hit’ll take away that hurt.”
Gabe leaned closer and repeated his earlier order, “Hold still.”
Laurel barely tilted her head in agreement.
April started to giggle. “I’m sorry. This isn’t funny, but it looks like Gabe is shaving you!”
“If you don’t hobble your mouth, he can always use that knife to scalp you.” Kate plopped down on Laurel’s other side. “Pay no mind to her, Laurel.”
Laurel closed her eyes and felt cold steel pressed against the burning spot on her cheek. A breath later, the blade was gone.
“Almost done,” Gabe said as he tilted her head back and to the side.
Opening her eyes a mere slit, Laurel saw the concentration on his face as he rid her of the last stinger. Once it was out, he gently ran his fingers across her brow, right by her hairline. His touch made her shiver.
“Any more, princess? Do you sting anywhere else?”
“No.” Her voice came out in a tight whisper.
“Got that mud here.” Peter wedged in.
Gabe dabbed his forefinger into Peter’s cupped palm and dabbed splotches on her cheek, neck, and wrist. When Laurel wrinkled her nose, he murmured, “I warned you. I’m not artistic.”
“It doesn’t look that bad,” Johnna declared.
Loyal as could be, April and Kate agreed with vivacious nods.
Gabe rose and again tilted Laurel’s face to his. His dark brows knit, and his voice took on an edge. “Now will you stop using that fancy flowery stuff?”
“She has to.” April bumped him out of the way and wrapped her in a hug. “We understand.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Lye soap makes her rashy,” Kate explained.
“Makes her look like a spotted owl,” Peter tacked on.
“Sorta like that mud does,” Johnna added.
This kept getting more embarrassing. Laurel rested her head on April’s shoulder and groaned.
Gabe pried April away. “Are you feeling sick?”
Laurel shook her head.
“Light-headed?”
A gasp escaped her. No gentleman ever posed such a question of a lady. Laurel straightened up and drew in a strangled breath. “I—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he’d swept her into his arms and was striding toward his mount. “We’re getting you back to camp. Does anyone know if she’s ever been stung before?”
“I don’t know about bees. She’s been stung by wasps,” Kate said as she swung into her own saddle.
Gabe handed her off to Peter, mounted, and took her back. The jut of his jaw screamed grim determination. “Hang on, princess.”
The ride from camp had been leisurely, delightful. The ride back amounted to nothing more than a blur and the pounding sound of horses’ hooves. Gabe held her tight, and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear kept her feeling unaccountably safe. The sun was setting as they skidded into camp.
“What’s going on?” Pax demanded as Gabe passed Laurel down to him.
“Bees.”
Laurel wiggled until her brother set her down. “Really, I’m fine.”
“She needs to lie down,” Gabe insisted.
“Why?” Pax looked from her to Gabe and back.
“She’s sensitive—even lye soap bothers her. She was having trouble breathing.” As he spoke, Gabe wrapped his arm about her and started escorting her toward the tent. “You ladies, come tuck her in.”
“I’m not sleepy.” Laurel dug in her heels. “Other than wearing mud all over, I’m fine.”
“Well, if you’re fine, can we have supper soon?” Cal patted his stomach. “I’m starving.”
“I’ll cook,” April declared.
“It’s my turn,” Laurel said.
“They’re my fish.” Kate headed toward the campfire. “I caught more than the boys did.”
“Now there you have it.” Johnna grabbed Laurel’s hand and dragged her into the tent. “Everything’s under control.”
Spinning around, Laurel hissed, “You’re no help at all. The boys didn’t want me to come on this trip because they thought I’d be too much trouble—that I’d fuss and need special attention. The last thing I want is—”
Johnna clapped her hand over Laurel’s mouth and whispered in her ear, “Them bucks out there cain think whatever they please. Better they reckon ’twas jest a case of yore stays being cinched a tad too tight than you havin’ hysterics or bein’ brought low by a couple of bitty bees.”
Unable to refute that logic, Laurel nodded.
“So what we’re a-gonna do is spend a moment or two in here, then go back outside and pretend nothin’ ever happened.”
“N
othing did happen!”
Johnna shrugged. “Ma onc’t tole me, a man’s gotta think he’s right. A smart woman lets him think what he will, and she jest keeps doin’ what needs to be done.”
“That seems like lying to me.”
“Nah.” Johnna grinned. “Men use their strength to help women. Seems only fair women exercise kindness in return.”
“When you put it that way. . .” Laurel reached up to fix her hair.
Johnna slipped behind her. “I aim to loosen you up.”
“I don’t need you to. I’m fine.”
“Ain’t about what you need, Laurel. Think on it: Gabe scooped you up and toted you like you was a damsel in distress. He’ll be made to feel like a laughingstock iff’n you sashay outta here.”
“Just a minute ago, you said we were going out there and pretending nothing ever happened.”
“Shore ’nuff I did. But how’re we gonna pretend nothin’ happened if nothing happened?” Johnna deftly unbuttoned the back of Laurel’s gown.
“I could just loosen my sash.”
“We’ll do that, too.”
❧
Gabe stood off a ways from the tent and kept staring at it as he paced. A few of the Chance men had taken the horses and were seeing to them.
Paxton leaned against a tree and folded his arms across his chest as Ulysses turned to Caleb. Entertainment tinged his voice as he drawled, “It’s just a bee sting.”
“Three.” Gabe grimaced as he paused. “And I’ve seen a man die from being stung.”
“No foolin’?” Ulysses gawked at him.
“He swelled up and stopped breathing.”
Paxton straightened up. “And Sis was having a hard time breathing.”
“No use getting too excited yet,” Caleb asserted. “She was talking plenty when Johnna hauled her into the tent.”
“Could be,” Ulysses mused, “ ’twas a matter of her um. . . whalebones.”
“Don’t you talk about my sister that way,” Pax growled.
“Laurel’s never been swoony,” Caleb said. “Prissy but not swoony.”
“She’s not prissy; she’s feminine,” Gabe snapped. “Enough of this jawing. We need to know how she’s fairing.”
The tent flap opened. Johnna emerged. Laurel followed right behind. Gabe squinted and studied her. In the lantern light, her coloring qualified as hectic. Her lips. . .if she’d stop chewing on the bottom one, he could see whether they’d swelled at all.
“Sis,” Paxton called, “you okay?”
Her hand went to her breastbone, but she nodded.
Gabe stomped toward her. “If you won’t lie down, you should at least sit.”
“I’m going to help finish supper.”
“Not while you’re wearing mud.” April shook a long-handled fork at her.
“I’ll wash it off.”
“No, you won’t.” Gabe glowered at her. “Johnna said it takes away the pain.”
Caleb came up on Laurel’s other side. “Maybe we ought to trade it for new mud. It might draw off the poison.”
“They were bees, not rattlesnakes.”
Ignoring Laurel’s objection, Gabe nodded. “I’ll take her to rest by the fire. You get more mud.”
“Is she all swoll up?” Ulysses called over.
Gabe studied Laurel’s lips. Since she’d worried them, they’d taken on a deeper tint than usual. They looked okay. No, they looked fine. Real fine. Downright kissable. What am I thinking?
“Well?” Ulysses prodded. “Are they?”
“No.” Gabe slipped his arm around her waist and started toward the fire. “Grab a wet rag, will you? We need to wash off the old mud pack.”
“Sure.”
Laurel looked up at him. “This is unnecessary.”
Gabe nudged her to sit down. “Let me take a look at those stings.” Though she made no complaint, he witnessed how her features tightened as he used the wet cloth to remove the mud.
Paxton whistled under his breath. “Those things’ve gotta be the size of—”
“Your skin is sensitive, princess,” Gabe interrupted. The last thing she needed to know was that the stings had puffed out to the size of a quarter. “But these’ll go away in a few days.” For the second time, he dabbed mud on her pretty face.
“Don’t forget her wrist,” Peter reminded.
“Got it.” Gabe attended to that one, too. He wished she couldn’t glance down and see that huge wheal. Laurel, who loved beauty, would take a good look and worry about being permanently disfigured.
“What are you putting on her?” Kate held a graniteware mug.
“More mud.”
She shook her head. “Clean it off. I made a paste of baking soda for her stings.”
Laurel grabbed for the cloth. “I’d much rather use the baking soda.” As she dabbed at her jaw, her eyes widened.
“Stings swell like that,” Gabe reassured her. “It’ll go down in a couple of days.”
“Days!”
Paxton chortled. “No use kickin’ up a fuss, Sis. It’s not like we’re at home where you’ll have suitors knockin’ down the door to see you.”
Hearing she had suitors shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Nonetheless, Gabe didn’t like the fact whatsoever. He grabbed the rag. “You missed a spot.”
Laurel turned her big amber eyes toward him. “I’m probably wearing mud crumbles all over.”
“A little dirt never hurt anybody,” Kate declared as she dipped her finger into the mug.
“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” Laurel recited.
Johnna walked over with several dinner plates balanced on her arms. “Now’s the wrong time to declare such a thang. Ev’rybody here could fill a dustbin with what they shake outta their duds.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Laurel’s smile rivaled the lantern for brightness. “I’ve never felt closer to the Lord than I do here in Yosemite.”
Her profession took him off guard. Gabe understood the overwhelming appreciation for the beauty she sensed. But what does God have to do with it? No use burdening these people with the perplexing questions he entertained regarding faith. Best he change the topic to something light. Gabe jerked his chin toward Kate and grinned. “Put that baking soda on her and see if she feels closer to the kitchen, too.”
Everyone laughed, but deep inside, Gabe felt empty.
Eight
After supper, everyone gathered around the fire. As had become their custom, they conversed. A couple of the boys had brought harmonicas and soughed through them softly. Peter brought his fiddle, and about every other night he’d rosin up his bow. Often as not, they’d all end up singing a few songs. One of the men would finally stand and say a prayer to end the evening.
Gabe and Pax wouldn’t leave her side. Sandwiched between the pair of them, Laurel resolved to forget about her stings and relish the evening. Bless his heart, Pax might grouse and growl at times, but he was a fine brother. As for Gabe—well, she’d never met a man like him. He’d been strong yet gentle—but though Daddy, her uncles, and brothers were those things, too, with Gabe it was. . .well, different.
He listened and joined in the conversation now and then—most often to make a suggestion regarding adventures the men could enjoy during the remainder of their trip.
Peter fetched his fiddle and played “June-bugs Dance.”
Kate called, “Play ‘There are Plenty of Fish in the Sea.’ ”
“She asked for that because she caught the most fish today,” Tanner grumbled.
The rest of the men laughed, then began to sing as Peter started to play.
Laurel leaned toward Gabe and said quietly, “Whenever Kate dangles a hook, fish fight to bite it. It drives the boys daft.”
“Does she use the same bait?”
“Yes.” Laurel wrinkled her nose.
“So you don’t particularly like to hook crickets or worms?”
She pointed ruefully at her wrist. “Insects and I don’t get along.”
“This little thing will be gone by the time we reach Bridal Veil. I’ll be sure to paint that picture for you.”
“Good. Thanks.”
When the song ended, Tobias started singing, “For the Beauty of the Earth.” Laurel joined in.
On the refrain, Gabe finally added his voice. His deep tone rang true. He turned and smiled at her as he sang the next verse, “Hill and vale, and tree and flower, sun and moon, and stars of light. . .”
His love of their surroundings came through with great sincerity. Though she’d always enjoyed the hymn, Laurel hadn’t ever found it this expressive. Bee stings aside, this had to be the best day of her life.
After a few more songs, Pax rose. “Suppose we ought to call it a day. Let’s pray. Lord, we want to raise our praise to You for so much—for the wonders of Your creation, the love of family and friends, and the mercies You show us. We give special thanks for taking care of my sister today. Keep us and those we love safe through the night we pray, amen.”
“Amen,” everyone chimed in, but a mere breath delayed Gabe’s, and he was looking at Laurel.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
It seemed ridiculous to say yes on such a balmy night and when sitting so close to the fire. Laurel shrugged. “I’ll be under my quilt in a few minutes.”
“Sweet dreams.”
Minutes later as she snuggled in the tent, his words echoed in her mind again. Sweet dreams. . .
But when she woke the next morning, Laurel couldn’t recall having dreamt at all. She quietly dressed, put up her hair, and gathered a tablet and her watercolors.
Johnna sat up and stretched. “D’ya ken whether April had special plans for breakfast? I’m hankerin’ after biscuits ’n’ gravy.”
“It can’t be morning yet,” Kate mumbled.
“Jist ’cuz we ain’t got no rooster to crow here don’t mean the sun forgot to make an appearance.” Johnna reached over and poked at Kate. “You and me—we got breakfast duty. Rise ’n’ shine.”
Bridal Veil Page 6
