As she spoke, pain pressed his chest again, shortening his breath. He’d suspected there was something in her past but hadn’t realized how closely Aaron’s actions must have mirrored her father’s. There was probably much more than she’d said, but his imagination could fill in many possibilities.
He didn’t want the image that flooded his mind. Laura as a little girl, hair in twin braids and wide brown eyes filled with fear as her father raised his hand to strike her.
Anger pulsed through him, feeding through his veins with every pump of his blood. He had to force himself to push the mental pictures aside. To focus on what she needed here and now.
She was pushing the stray tendrils of hair away from her face, trying to tuck them back in her braid. Despite the red streaking her eyes and spotting her face, she looked remarkably normal. More like the strong Laura he’d come to appreciate so much.
She turned an expectant look on him. “Shall we check on our friends now?”
If he had to name the emotion blooming in his chest, he’d have called it affection. Very strong affection. He reached out and tweaked her chin. “Let’s do it.” He probably shouldn’t have touched her that last time. If they were past her moment of need, he should go back to keeping his distance, keeping himself from tainting her prospects.
But he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret any contact with her. Especially when she graced him with the hint of a smile.
Eighteen
Nate moved to the cave opening with Laura close behind him. “I’ll go in first and light the lantern.” He ducked in before she could protest.
In the darkness, his fingers found the match case and lantern easily, right where he’d left them. After striking the flame, he sent a glance around before lighting the wick.
Bright Sun stood in the center of the main cavern, as still as stone. He should have expected her to be there, but the sight of her sent his heart into his throat. As he tried to regulate his pulse and his breathing, he lit the lantern, then straightened, offering the girl a smile. Had she heard Laura crying?
Before he could call for her, Laura had already ducked through the cave entrance.
“Bright Sun, how are you?” Her voice held only joy, no hint of the pain and turmoil from minutes before. “I see someone came back for those boxes. Did you see them? Did they bother you?” She strode forward to stand in front of the girl. Limped forward, actually, but her injury didn’t slow her much.
He moved quickly to keep pace with her as he carried the lantern.
“I saw.” The childlike tone of Bright Sun’s voice reminded him once again how young she must be, despite the fact that she held herself with the proud bearing of a woman a dozen years older. “A different man this time. His wagon was empty before he carried these out.”
Nate stopped beside Laura. “Did you see which way he went after leaving here?”
The girl nodded. “I followed him until he turned on the road that way.” She pointed toward the south, maybe a little southwest.
“The road toward Fort Benton?” He turned to Laura. “I asked Lanton if he knew anything about anyone reporting any stolen goods. He didn’t.” That was something he’d meant to tell Laura the evening before, but instead, he’d kissed her and spent the night wishing there was some way he could be good enough for her.
She raised her brows at him, probably agreeing that he should have already told her that tidbit. But she turned back to the child. “He didn’t see you, did he? Please be careful, Bright Sun. There’s no telling how dangerous those men are. You could be hurt really badly if they found you.”
Bright Sun shook her head. “He didn’t see me.” She spoke with certainty. Nate probably wouldn’t have believed any other child her age, but this one could move with the stealth of the wiliest cougar. She probably hadn’t been seen.
Laura moved to Bright Sun and placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Let’s hope so. How’s your grandfather? Can we see him?”
The child didn’t answer, but her solemn expression eased as Laura slid her arm around the girl’s shoulders. Who wouldn’t soften under Laura’s sweet touch?
Bright Sun turned toward the entrance to the hot spring cavern, and they followed her into the darkness.
What must it be like to live in such a place? At least Bright Sun was able to go outside some. Her poor grandfather didn’t seem to have moved much since coming to this cave.
When they reached Eagle Soaring, the girl stood by the cave wall, leaving room for them in front of her grandfather. The man was sitting upright this time.
“You’re looking better.” Laura dropped to her knees in front of him, and the smile in her voice lifted Nate’s spirits.
The older man’s eyes still had a dull, almost lifeless expression—or maybe a lack of expression was a better way to describe it. But the lines at his mouth pulled in the beginning of a smile.
“Let’s see how your wounds are.” Laura eased the buffalo robe off his arm and began her usual process to unwrap the bandage. “I’m afraid I don’t have a clean cloth this time. Have you been applying the salve?” She raised the question to Bright Sun, who nodded.
Laura held the man’s wrist with one hand as she unwrapped the cloth, and he couldn’t help noticing the contrast between her young, fair skin and the wrinkled crepe-like skin of the older man’s arm. The shadows in the cave made him look even tawnier than he probably was, although a lifetime under the sun would darken any man.
As she finished unrolling the bandage, Nate shifted his focus to the wound. As usual, the gruesome sight made his middle churn, but he forced himself to study it for any changes.
Maybe the gash was a little smaller. The murky sheen might be from the medicine. But at least the wound didn’t have that angry, festering appearance that would make the man feverish.
Laura worked with a steady hand, never losing the gentle touch that was surely the reason she’d won the unwavering trust of this pair. Her passion to help and earnest caring shone through every action. Every word she spoke offered steady encouragement.
She’d almost finished re-dressing the man’s leg by the time the thought sprang to him that he should do more than gawk. He turned to Bright Sun, who’d been doing her own staring, albeit while answering Laura’s occasional questions and interpreting her words for Eagle Soaring.
The girl met his eyes, and a hint of guardedness crept over her face. If only he could break through that barrier the way Laura had.
He offered a smile. “Have you enough food? I can bring more venison in the morning. I’ll leave it near the lantern at the cave entrance.” He hated the way his gut clenched when he offered up his own food stores, but everything he gave away meant he’d have to take more time to hunt, instead of working on his cabin and fulfilling his responsibilities with Aaron.
“Ingrid has some food set aside, too.” Laura glanced at him. “Perhaps you can get it from the clinic this evening.”
Good. With the combined offering, hopefully there would be enough to see these two for another week. Hopefully.
He turned back to the girl. “Have you heard from your people? Do you know when they might come?” They could plan better if they knew how much longer it would be before these two would be reunited with their tribe.
A flash of uncertainty crossed her face. Because she didn’t know the timing? Or because she wasn’t sure anyone would be coming for them?
His stomach plunged. Surely the latter wasn’t true. Without Laura and him continuing to provide food, these two may not survive all winter on their own.
“Do you know where your people are?” Laura’s words pulled him back from his spinning thoughts. She’d focused her sweet smile on the child, and Bright Sun seemed to be struggling over how to answer.
At last, the child’s voice came out in a tentative murmur. “I don’t know. We fell behind when the others were seeking a winter camp. I thought someone would look for us, maybe Sees All or Three Elk. But they haven’t.” For th
e first time since he’d known her, the girl’s eyes glistened with tears, and her voice cracked.
“Oh, honey.” Laura pushed up to her feet and pulled Bright Sun into an embrace, much like a mother comforting her child. He couldn’t ever remember feeling a hug like that, yet instinctively he knew how wonderful it must have felt. Even with her future looking so uncertain, did Bright Sun know how fortunate she was to have Laura Hannon as a friend?
Tiny sobs hiccupped from the girl as Laura cradled her. This had to be healing for the child who worked so hard to be strong—much like Laura herself. He backed away a little to give them space. More than one female crying on him within a single hour might be more than he could handle.
Laura’s soothing was clearly more effective than his had been, for only a few minutes passed before the child’s sniffles faded. She backed away, wiping a sleeve across her face and straightening her shoulders. It was such a picture of Laura’s own recovery a half hour earlier that he had to fight back a smile.
Staying low so she was eye level with the girl, Laura brushed hair from the child’s face. “Don’t worry, Bright Sun. Nate and I will make sure you and your grandfather have everything you need until your people come back. We’re going to take care of you. I promise.” She sent a glance to Nate and he nodded. She’d said it so much more eloquently than he could have.
But there was one more thing she wouldn’t know to add. Or rather, to ask.
He stepped closer and dropped to one knee so he was a little lower than the girl. “How would you feel if I came to sleep nights here in the cave with you and your grandfather? I can help make sure you always have firewood and fresh meat, and I can protect you if anyone comes who you don’t know.”
The weight of Laura’s stare pressed on him, but he kept his focus on the girl. The child’s gaze gave away nothing as she studied him.
Then her little brow furrowed as she looked at Laura, then back to him. “You not stay with her?”
Heat surged up his neck as he realized what the girl was asking. What she must have thought. “No.”
His tongue fumbled the word as he rushed to get it out. “I mean . . . Laura and I aren’t . . .” He stopped long enough to gather a full, coherent sentence. “Miss Hannon and I are friends, but we don’t live together.” Another wave of flame seared up to burn his ears. The picture his words had painted wasn’t at all what he’d meant. “I mean . . . I don’t have a home. I live in the woods. In a tent.”
Pistols and rifles, he’d bungled that. His gaze darted to Laura before he could stop it. If he didn’t know better, he would say she was trying to cover a smile. Either that or she was doing a better job than him at hiding a blush.
He turned back to Bright Sun and took in a steadying breath. “What I mean to say is, I need a warm place to stay this winter. And if we all pitch in together, the three of us can get by easier, at least until your people come back for you. What do you think?”
Little by little, a light entered her eyes. She didn’t speak but offered only a single nod.
The relief washing through his chest felt like three layers of worry fell away with that simple motion. He didn’t even try to hold back his grin. “Good.”
Nineteen
Finally, the doctor was letting her actually help.
Maybe Laura shouldn’t be so relieved, since the only reason Doc Micah had sent her to check on his patients on the east side of town was because Ingrid’s condition had worsened.
The mother-to-be hadn’t been able to keep food down all day, and Micah hadn’t left her side since midmorning. Her heart ached for her friends—both of them. Ingrid insisted the sickness would pass soon, but the pallor of her skin and shadows around her eyes proved her exhaustion from the struggles.
For his part, she’d never seen Doc Micah so grieved. His gentleness with Ingrid when she’d checked on them earlier had raised a knot of emotion in her throat.
The strain around his eyes seemed more than mere exhaustion. Did he think something was wrong with Ingrid and the baby, or was this simply the worries of an expectant father? He’d said Ingrid’s frequent purging didn’t seem to be related to the stomach illness the patients she was about to visit now were suffering.
At least that was a relief. The doctor had been incredibly careful not to spread the illness to anyone in the clinic.
She stopped first at the tiny house where she’d delivered the medicine the week before. Instead of greeting her at the door, Mr. Wilkerson’s voice drifted from inside. “Come in.”
The interior of the little house was dim and smelled of putrid odors that made her want to cover her mouth and run back outside. Leaving the door open a little behind her, she took tiny breaths through her mouth and moved toward the bed beside the fire.
Mr. Wilkerson sat in a chair near the cot, and he didn’t stand when she approached, just motioned toward the covers. “She seems about the same.”
Laura took in the pale face lying at the end of the wad of blankets. “Doctor Bradley sent me to check on you both. I’ve brought more elderberry, too.” She moved closer to the woman and rested a hand on her forehead. Her skin was warm, but not dangerously so. Round eyes stared up at her, circled in deep shadows. Her face was so pale, Laura couldn’t tell exactly how old she was. Maybe not more than thirty.
“Have you been able to keep water down?” She brushed the woman’s sweat-grimed hair away from her temples.
Mrs. Wilkerson’s jaw opened with a tiny tremble, like that of a fragile older woman. “A little.” Her voice quavered, too, and sounded raspy, as if she’d smoked a pipe all her life.
Laura forced a smile past the twisting in her own middle. “I’m glad. How about food? Have you tried broth?” She sent a glance to the man to see if he would offer input so the exhausted woman wouldn’t have to speak again.
He nodded, his head still resting against the back of the chair. In truth, he looked as weary as she did.
Laura studied the pallor of his own face. “Have you been ill, too?”
He offered a faint lifting of his shoulders. “A little. Nothing like Penny or . . .” His voice broke, and Laura couldn’t help but reach out a hand to his arm.
His mother had been one of those who passed away. The last thing she wanted was to resurrect his grief. “I’m glad you’re able to be up and around. Have you both eaten anything besides broth?” She sent a look toward the pot hanging over the fire, but shadows made the contents impossible to discern.
“We’ve been eatin’ soup. We’ll get along fine. ’Preciate you bringin’ the medicine.” His voice held a little more energy than the woman’s.
She turned back to Mrs. Wilkerson. “Make sure you both drink plenty of water. Just take sips, as much as you can keep down. Send word to the clinic if you need us for anything.” She hated to leave them, but there didn’t seem to be much she could do here.
At least, not in the capacity of Doc Micah’s helper. She could do a lot with the place if given a broom and a tub of soapy water. But maybe she could come back another time for that.
She still had a list of patients the doctor asked her to check on. No wonder he rarely came home before dark.
But she couldn’t deny the sense of purpose filling her chest as she marched to the next house and the next soul in need.
“How could you do it, Aaron? How could you be so cruel? These people have been nothing but kind to you.” Nate wanted to bite back the words the moment they slipped out.
He’d spoken truth—mostly. The doctor and his wife had been gracious beyond anything he’d expected. And Laura . . . he still couldn’t fathom how she could care for his brother with such unrelenting kindness, even at the expense of her own peace. But his comment would remind Aaron that she’d shot him in the first place. Even though it had been purely an accident.
Red crept into his brother’s face, a welcome change from the shiny pallor he wore most of the time. But Nate steeled himself for an explosion.
“You call destroying
my leg kind? That—”
“Watch it, brother.” Nate plunged in before Aaron could start up the tirade that had disturbed Laura so much on Sunday. Thank the Lord she wasn’t in the clinic to overhear now. “You know that was an accident. You can’t hold it against her. If you hadn’t gone along with the kidnapping in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” He dropped his voice, praying with everything in him his words would break through Aaron’s belligerent glare. “It’s time to let it go, Aaron. You can’t move forward if you hold that grudge forever.”
His brother looked away, staring across the room. But this time, his brow didn’t furrow with belligerence. The line of his jaw eased, almost sagging under the beard Aaron had let grow lately. Shoulders that had finally risen—albeit in anger—slumped again, just like they’d been for weeks now. “I know.” The words came out as a mumble.
But at least they’d been spoken. Thank you, Lord. Acknowledging the need was surely a big step.
Nate leaned forward, regretting having put so much space between him in the chair and his brother on the bed. He’d thought that would keep Aaron from feeling hemmed in during this overdue confrontation. But he and Aaron were twins, brothers connected long before they’d even been born. Separation was hard on them both.
He inched a little closer to the edge of his chair. “I’m here to help you, Aaron. Whatever you need, we can do this together.”
His brother turned back to him with a weary sigh, the lines around his eyes deeper than minutes before. “Then do something about this blasted pain, will ya? They won’t give me anything to take the edge off. I can’t stand it every minute of every hour, day and night. It’s enough to push a man out of his mind, Nate.”
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