Samuel helped her onto a blanket, and it took everything inside her not to scream with the agony of using the muscles across her chest to lie down.
She was breathing hard as he pulled furs up over her. Then she tucked into a ball, curling tight to hold in any heat she could muster. Another shiver vibrated through her.
A strong, gentle hand rubbed along her good arm, and the touch was a combination of torture and blessed warmth. She ached everywhere.
“I’ll be nearby.” His voice was low, just above her ear, and she may have even felt the warmth of his breath on her temple. A tiny gift amidst the torment.
She squeezed her eyes shut. If only she could fall asleep and never wake up.
Chapter Twelve
“From torture to relief, my mind and body can’t keep up.”
~ Moriah
“MR. GRANT. YOU’LL NEVER guess what I found.”
Samuel turned from the tiny flames he was kindling to see what stirred the excitement in Matisse’s voice.
“It’s a hot spring. Just around the side of this mountain.” The boy lowered his armful of kindling to the ground near the fire. “I bet a soak there would warm Mrs. Clark right up.”
Would it? Getting wet in this weather sure wouldn’t help her, but maybe if the water was warm enough, it would help ease her pain and maybe even break her fever. He’d always heard the minerals in hot springs possessed great healing powers.
He turned to Mrs. Clark—Moriah. His heart stuttered as the name settled like a warm steam soothing his insides. It was strong and beautiful, just like her. The honor of knowing her given name, of being allowed to call her such, felt like a significant thing. But it wasn’t an Indian name, was it? Did she have a name in each language? Who had named her Moriah?
The thoughts fled as he took in her curled frame, buried under all the furs and blankets he could find. Yet still, her shoulders trembled. His chest ached as he witnessed her in so much pain. If there was anything he could do to take it from her, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
He settled a hand on her right shoulder, not the limb she said hurt so badly. “Moriah, did you hear what Matisse said about the hot spring? Do you want to try soaking in it?”
A murmur drifted from the opening in the furs. He leaned closer, stroking the coverings over her arm. “Was that a yes?”
“Yes.” The word was muffled but understandable.
“All right then.” He rose and looked at Cherry. He hated to disturb her again since she was sleeping so well, but he also wasn’t ready to leave Matisse alone with the babe. If the lad did something to hurt her, even accidentally, Samuel wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
He eased Cherry into her sling and slipped it over his neck. “Sorry, Little Bit. We’re going for another ride.”
As he moved back to help Moriah up, he noticed Matisse had taken his place building the fire. Good.
She seemed so weak as he helped her walk the short distance around the side of the low mountain where the lad said the spring lay. So frail. And he still didn’t know exactly what was wrong with her, other than a fever. The pain in her shoulder was a mystery, unless the weight of carrying the baby had really been too much for her weakened body.
The strong mineral smell greeted them before they saw the steam rising through the bushes. The water was well-hidden, a little pool tucked in among bushy cedar shrubs and several large rocks. If it weren’t for the smell and the steam, the place would be almost impossible to find.
When they reached the water’s edge, the awkwardness of the situation settled over him fully. “Um...how do you want to do this?” Surely, she wasn’t planning to dip in the pool fully clothed. Lord, let her be able to handle the rest. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to maintain the distance he needed if she asked for his help to undress, even a little.
“I can manage from here. Just help me sit.” She reached for the ground, and he lowered her with a hand on either side of her waist, trying not to disturb Cherry with the action.
Once she was settled, he sighed with relief and backed away. In the sling across his front, the babe shifted, yawning inside her bundle of blankets. He wrapped a supporting hand around her. Maybe, just maybe, she’d snooze a little longer and give her mama time to feel better.
He shifted his focus back to Moriah. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
She shook her head, huddled on the edge of the bank with the blankets pulled tight around her. “Just bring Cherry to me when she wakes up.” Her voice was so weak, he could barely decipher it.
“I’ll bring her if she needs you.” The babe shifted again, her face contorting into silent complaint. He bounced a little to keep her quiet. “I’ll give you privacy, but call out if you need anything. I’ll stay close enough to hear.” Maybe they should move the camp a little nearer this spring.
She nodded, and he slipped away just as Cherry let out a squawk.
The next half hour seemed to last forever. They did move the camp closer to the hot springs, since the fire was still small. Cherry was definitely awake now, and Samuel had to focus all his attention on her to keep her from crying, leaving Matisse to handle the rest of the work.
Cherry fussed and squirmed, and he laid her down to unwrap some of the layers from around her. Maybe she was hot. When he peeled back to the blankets closest to her skin, his fingers brushed dampness.
Oh.
His stomach churned, but he tried to ignore the sensation and focus on Cherry’s sweet face while he worked. Except her sweet face was red and scrunched, and she writhed with grunting complaints.
“I’m sorry you’re not happy, Little Bit. I’ll get you dry as soon as I can, then we’ll walk around and see what we can do to help.”
He finally made it down to the bottom layer, a very soggy cloth wrapped between her legs and around her body. It looked as if it was meant to catch most of the messy stuff. Did Moriah have extras like this one? He was pretty sure he’d seen several draped over her brush shelter in the evenings to dry.
He hated the idea of going through her pack to find another cloth, but he also didn’t want to bother her while she was trying to recover. There was a small satchel she usually kept with her when she was tending the baby. He would just check there, and if he didn’t find it, he’d ask.
Inside the pack, the fabric he sought lay on top. Thank you, Lord. It wasn’t as easy as he expected to wrap the dry cloth back around Cherry’s trunk and make it stay, especially since she was kicking and squirming.
“Hold still now.” Her skin was getting cold in the icy air. He had to bundle her back up.
Finally, he had Cherry snuggled in blankets again. She wasn’t quite the neat package Moriah put together, but at least she would be warm.
“There now.” He raised her up to examine his work. “You think that’ll do?”
A glance at Cherry’s face caused a laugh to form in his chest that wouldn’t stay contained. Her tiny nose was wrinkled, and every bit of her looked so pitiful, yet cute enough to eat.
She loosed a gusty wail, apparently not liking his chuckle. He snuggled her tight in the crook of his arm and pushed to his feet. “I know, Little Bit. I get grumpy when I’m hungry, too.”
How much longer ’til he should check on Moriah? The baby cried out again, this time more urgently. She wouldn’t be denied much longer.
Matisse was working on the branch shelter they always built for Moriah and the baby. He was a good worker, thank the Lord. Samuel wasn’t sure how he would’ve handled a sick woman, a hungry babe, and a diabolical prisoner.
As Cherry fussed and started into a steady cry, he did his best to bounce and soothe and slowly ambled toward the rocks and brush sheltering the pool of hot water.
“Samuel.” Moriah’s voice drifted through the foliage, and his heart did a skip at the sound of his name in her sweet, lilting tone.
“Yes?” He moved closer so he wouldn’t miss her answer.
“Bring her to me.”
He
hesitated, a bit of relief warring with his urgency to protect Moriah. And Cherry, too, for that matter. Was her mother really strong enough to care for her?
“I’m better. The water’s finally warmed me.” Her voice did sound stronger.
“All right.” He stepped toward the path through the bushes. But then he paused. “Are you...covered?”
“Yes.”
He eased out a breath and started forward again.
She was sitting on the bank, her feet still dangling in the steaming water. A fur wrapped around her body, so the only part he could see was the elegant profile of her face—the straight, regal line of her nose and chin, her high cheekbones. Every beautiful feature working to form the entire masterpiece.
She turned at his approach, her gaze focused on the crying bundle in his arms. As he neared and crouched beside her, the fur shifted and her hands slipped through the opening to take the baby.
“There now. I’m here.” The child hushed almost instantly as Moriah tucked the bundle against her shoulder. “All is well.” A few hiccupping sobs shuttered out, but nothing more.
Moriah raised her gaze to his with a look so gentle it made his chest ache. “Thank you for taking care of us.”
He swallowed, trying to force down the lump in his throat. “I changed her out of her wet things. I didn’t know what else to do, so we’ve been walking and talking.”
“That’s exactly what she needed.” Her gaze still bore the weariness from before, but a softness, too. A gentleness that made him want to draw closer. To wrap an arm around her back and maybe test those lips that called to him.
He forced his gaze to hold hers and not wander. “How are you feeling?”
The tired lines of her mouth curved a tiny bit. “Better, now that I’m warm.”
“What do you think brought this on? Overtired?” Perhaps he shouldn’t inquire about such personal things, but he needed to make sure this never happened again.
She hesitated. “I’m...not sure. I think the pain may be from infection. Perhaps the fever, too.”
Infection usually came from a wound. “Were you hurt? Injured?”
She shook her head, hesitation again marking her movement. But she didn’t say anything more
He pinched his mouth shut. That must be as far as he should prod. If the issue was related to the baby, he was pretty sure there wasn’t anything he could do.
Cherry squirmed in her mother’s hold. A sign it was time he leave them alone.
Easing to his feet, he stepped back. “We’ve moved the camp over so we’re closer to this pool. Call out when you need me, for the baby or anything else.” He hesitated, letting his gaze run the length of her for the first time. “Will you be warm enough?” If she had wet layers under there, the furs may not be enough. “We have a good fire going. Actually, Matisse does. He’s a good hand at setting up camp.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair.
She offered a weak smile. “I’m glad. And we’ll be fine.”
He’d better leave them to it. But as he tracked back toward the camp, he couldn’t help a final look back. The sight of her sitting there, so alone and vulnerable, raised up that lump in his throat.
She may be weak and ill just now, but she wasn’t alone. And he’d move heaven and earth before he let anything happen to mother or child.
THE PAIN IN MORIAH’S side was almost more than she could stand, and the red, inflamed flesh helped pinpoint the source of the ache that pulsed through that entire area. Cherry was so hungry, so Moriah had no choice but to let her nurse from the aching area, too. Even though every moment was agony.
When the babe was satisfied, Moriah managed to get them both up, then collected the furs and wet things. All strength seemed to have leaked from her body, and it took everything she had to walk back to camp.
She could do this, though. She would do whatever was necessary. She was War Eagle’s granddaughter.
Samuel must have heard her movements, for he met her partway. “Let me help.” His gaze roamed over her face, surely finding all the weariness she was trying to hide. But it wasn’t disdain she saw in his response. Nor even frustration. It was more like...a yearning. A warmth that made her want to crawl in.
She’d never met a man like Samuel Grant. His kindness seemed to run soul-deep. But it was more than kindness. She couldn’t quite put into words what it was about him that drew her. He was like a safe cave in a blizzard. A refuge.
She realized she was staring into his eyes and blinked, breaking the link between them. The weakness must be seeping into her mind.
“Let me take Little Bit.” His low tenor slipped through her, and he reached out for the baby.
She handed her daughter over, and he peered into the blankets, then looked up at her with raised brows. “Sleeping again?”
Moriah tried to work up a smile. “I think you wore her out.”
“Maybe you can both get some sleep.” The warmth of his gaze caressed her face, but she didn’t meet his eyes. She no longer had the strength to resist his pull.
Thankfully, he had mercy on her and turned toward the camp. “Come rest by the fire. You must be freezing. I have some corn mush heating if you’re hungry.”
They’d already built her brush shelter, so she draped her wet things to dry, then sank onto the blankets already spread out for her. She had to tell them to stop doing so much for her. She would carry her weight of the work around here.
She would.
But just now, they’d done it all. And she could barely hold herself upright on the pallet of bedding. She lowered onto her side, clenching her jaw against the pain radiating through the inflamed area. What could she do to make the infection go away? Maybe it would work itself out. Lord, please.
Chapter Thirteen
“Every decision has consequences I never foresaw. Guide me, Lord.”
~ Samuel
MORIAH EYED SAMUEL as he lowered to his knees beside her, a plate in his hand and Cherry already positioned in the sling across his chest. As much as she would love to watch him with her daughter for the rest of the day, he shouldn’t be burdened with the babe.
She patted the ground in front of her. “Lay her here with me.”
“I will in a minute. Eat this first, if you can.” He lowered the plate and held out a cup. “The water’s warm.”
“Excuse me. Mr. Grant? Ma’am?”
They both turned to look up at Matisse, who stood a few steps away.
He was holding out something in his hand, a small white object she couldn’t quite make out. “I don’t know if this will help, but Pierre always kept these around. When either of us was ailing, we’d eat one. He called it garlic, and it always seems to help. Maybe Mrs. Clark would want to try one?”
Samuel straightened and reached out, taking what the boy offered. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, giving her a better look at the oval shaped piece that was half the length of her little finger and milky white.
The sight stirred a memory. Not a full recollection, just an impression. One of the older women had given something like this to her mother when she’d had a knife wound that festered.
She lifted her focus to Samuel, whose raised brows held a skeptical look. She nodded. “I think I know of this. I’ll try it.” At least, she prayed it was the same thing that had given her mother strength. She’d be willing to try almost anything at this point, except... She looked to Matisse. “Will it hurt the baby?” That should have been her first thought.
His brow puckered. “I...don’t know for sure. It tastes awful, but it always seems to make us feel better in a few hours. I’d think if it doesn’t hurt the rest of us, it shouldn’t hurt the little one either.” He squinted, as if recalling a memory. “I remember taking them when I had a broken arm as a boy, maybe four or five.”
The apprehension in her chest eased some with his words. “All right.” She reached for the garlic. “Should I chew it?” The thing was too big to swallow whole.
He nodded. “Yes
, ma’am. You’ll want to have plenty of water handy. It tastes bad enough to bring tears.”
The boy wasn’t exaggerating. As she chewed, she had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from spitting the awful stuff into the dirt. The water did little to wash away the taste. She reached for the plate of corn mush, trying not to let her face betray the horrible taste. She could stomach it as well as any other man or woman, but she certainly didn’t relish another dose.
She’d downed several bites before the spicy taste of the garlic lessened on her tongue. Laying the plate aside, she finally chanced a look at Samuel, who was still kneeling in front of her.
His strong face had softened in compassion. “Pretty bad, eh?”
She worked to keep a grimace from her face. “I wouldn’t eat it for pleasure.” She nodded toward the baby. “I can take her now.”
He nodded and lifted the bundled infant out of the sling, performing the task with a smoothness that only came from practice. A knot of emotion thickened in her throat. He was so good with her baby. She hated that she needed so much help from him, but in truth, this man was a gift from God. It would be too easy to fall into his strength and let him take over.
But she couldn’t do that. She had to get up and accomplish her own work. And she would, as soon as her weary body rested just a few minutes.
SAMUEL EYED MORIAH’S quivering back as she lay curled into the dark interior of the brush shelter. The fever must have returned in the hours she’d been sleeping. As soon as she finished nursing the baby, maybe she’d let him help her back to the hot spring. That seemed to have done a world of good for her earlier.
At last, she shifted, pulling the blankets around her as she curled tighter into a ball.
He didn’t want to seem overly familiar with her, but she needed someone to take care of her with this illness. He wanted to be that someone. Stepping closer, he lowered his voice so he wouldn’t wake the baby, who must be sleeping again. “Moriah?”
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