Dangerous Heart

by Tracey Bateman

  “It appears that way.”

  “We’ll need a couple of tents. I don’t want these men sleeping in the snow.”

  “There aren’t any?” It had been too dark the night before to bother looking.

  “Now, do you think if these men had tents, they’d be sleeping on the ground on a cold night like last night?”

  “I did,” Ginger shot back.

  “Well, let’s not argue about it.”

  “We’ll need two tents. One for you and me and one for those men. And a shovel. And you should bring more blankets if anyone can spare any. The ones these men are using are going to need to be burned. They’re beyond washing, and even if they weren’t, they’re so threadbare, they wouldn’t hold up to a good scrubbing, anyway.”

  After a bowl of the nasty broth and a biscuit, Ginger climbed into the wagon seat and began the two-hour ride to the wagon train.

  She arrived before noon and went straight to Blake’s camp. Fannie sat on a barrel, her small hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. She barely acknowledged Ginger as she stared ahead, her face ashen.

  Toni stood over the fire, tending a pot of the familiar-smelling soup. “How is everything at the camp?”

  Ginger gave her a quick rundown, leaving Lane Conners out of it. “But I’m going to need a few things—a shovel to bury the man that died in the night, some blankets, and two tents. We can use Miss Sadie’s for one. Is Yellow Bird tucked in with you?”

  “Yes, the tent is empty. But it’s still up. You’ll need to take it down and roll it up.”

  Ginger cast a glance at Fannie. “Do you think Kip and Buddy could manage to get it pulled down and loaded into the wagon for me?”

  Tears sprang to Fannie’s eyes, and she buried her face in her hands. Toni went to her and wrapped her small frame in her arms.

  “What’s going on?” Ginger planted her hands on her hips. “I mean it. Tell me.”

  Toni frowned up at her. “Ginger,” she said keeping her voice soft, her tone even. “Kip is ill with cholera. He took sick yesterday, and he’s getting worse instead of better.”

  The news struck Ginger in her core, robbing her of breath. Which was probably just as well, while Fannie sobbed her frustration and worry into Toni’s shoulder. When the tears were spent, Ginger had regained her speech. “Well, once you start giving him that soup of Miss Sadie’s, he’ll perk right up. You’ll see.”

  Fannie jerked her head up and flashed angry eyes. “Oh, Ginger, stop trying to sound cheerful. Maybe God wants to take Kip like he took my mama and pa. Maybe He’ll want to take Katie, too, and then Blake and my baby. How would you know? How would you know anything about anything?”

  The anger in her tone paralyzed Ginger. She couldn’t move or speak. Wasn’t sure what to do. Toni gave her a sympathetic smile but didn’t bother to take up for her. But Ginger understood—or thought she did. “I guess I best be going.” She paused, then went to Fannie and touched her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you, you hollering at me like that. I had all that anger inside me, too, when it was Buddy laying there sick, and there was nothing I could do to make him well.”

  Fannie reached up and grabbed onto Ginger’s hand. Grabbed it so hard in fact, Ginger realized she’d underestimated her friend’s strength. “Thank you, Ginger.”

  “Ginger, I have a shovel in my things,” Toni said. “You’re welcome to borrow it. And there are a couple of extra blankets in there, too.”

  “I’m obliged. Do you know of an extra tent around camp?”

  Toni averted her gaze. “I don’t know if it’s proper or not.”

  “What?”

  “The entire Shewmate family is gone.”

  “Jenny?” Ginger sucked in a breath. “But she was going to have a baby.”

  Toni’s gaze was sober, sad. “I know. Barnabas took sick before we even buried Jenny. Grant said he must have been hiding it for as long as he could. By the time he got really sick, it was too late.”

  Then what good was the quinine or onion soup if folks were just going to die anyway? Before Ginger could voice her sentiment, Fannie gathered a weary breath. “I’ll talk to Blake about giving you the tent. He and some of the other men are burying Barnabas right now.”

  With the news of such a senseless tragedy, Ginger lost any desire she’d had for conversation. “I’ll be back after I’ve loaded up all the other things Miss Sadie’s needing.”

  She walked back through camp without stopping to speak with anyone. Not that she’d been invited to any fires anyway. It seemed that almost every family in the wagon train was boiling onions. Were they all affected? She reached the empty camp Yellow Bird and Miss Sadie had shared. An eerie silence permeated the air, and the unmistakable stench of cholera. Suddenly Ginger’s stomach revolted, and she dropped to her knees as the retching began.

  She barely felt a hand on her head, but somehow she was aware that someone knelt beside her. When she was spent, she lay on her side. Shivering in the snow, miserable, aching.

  Strong arms lifted her, and she was being carried, snuggled against a warm chest, which rumbled as he prayed, “Lord, not this. Please don’t take another woman from me.”

  Eleven

  “Nothing more than a weak stomach and exhaustion.” Grant smiled to himself as he announced the diagnosis to Ginger the next morning after she’d gotten a full night of sleep. Slept like the dead, as a matter of fact, on a thick pallet in Miss Sadie’s tent. He would have taken her to his own tent, but the outcry of propriety would have forced him to bring her back anyway. He’d posted Buddy at her side and had checked on her himself every hour.

  She gave him a sheepish grin. “I feel plumb stupid, Grant.”

  “Well, don’t. Feel blessed. A lot of people in this wagon train would gladly trade cholera for a little embarrassment.”

  Her face reddened. “I didn’t mean that.” She flipped her long braid from her shoulder so that it rested in the gentle curve at the small of her back. “How’s Kip?”

  “Showing improvement, praise the Lord.”

  She nodded solemnly without her usual snort. “Is Sam having a service today, this being the Lord’s Day and all?”

  “Yes. We almost cancelled, but Sam felt the folks might need a service more than ever.”

  “I’d like to attend myself, but I don’t suppose I should leave Miss Sadie any longer. It snowed again last night.”

  “Don’t worry. Toni told us what you were needing. Mr. Harrison volunteered to haul all the supplies. Your pa went with him to show him the way. All you’ll need to take back is your tent, here.”

  Ginger gasped and turned on him fiercely, groaning. “Oh, Grant. Don’t you have a brain in your head?”

  Stung, Grant frowned. “It might interest you to know that I see it as a good sign that Web volunteered to go with him. He seems to have taken a genuine liking to Mr. Harrison. Maybe a real friend will help him want to be a better man.”

  A bitter laugh flew from her as she slipped past him, ducking through the flap carrying all the blankets, which were the only items still left inside the tent.

  Grant followed. “What are you laughing at?”

  “You don’t know very many outlaws, do you?”

  “A lot more lately than I ever planned to know on a first-name basis.”

  She had the good grace to blush but set about taking down the tent. Grant helped, yanking up stakes and finally helping her roll the tent and load it into the wagon. He slipped the yoke around the oxen’s neck.

  “Don’t bother just yet.”

  “I thought you were all fired up to go back?”

  “I might as well take the time to ask for help from the Almighty. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

  “Don’t worry, Ginger. This’ll all be over soon. I didn’t have any new cases this morning.”

  “That’s a mercy.”

  “Toni says you should come have breakfast with her and Yellow Bird.” Grant still wondered what had upset G
inger so about Mr. Harrison and Web taking supplies to Miss Sadie. In his mind’s eye, he recalled Web’s warning that Ginger had an ulterior motive for being part of the wagon train. Most likely, Web was just trying to divert suspicion from his own slimy carcass to his daughter. As much as he hated to bury his head in the sand, he couldn’t believe Ginger would be so deceptive. She was too open—spoke every thought in her head, more often than not. And sometimes too much so. In light of that, Grant had a hard time believing she was hiding anything.

  “You coming?”

  Ginger’s question caught him off guard and pulled him away from his thoughts. He shook his head. “I have some rounds to make before the service. I’ll see you a little later.”

  He hesitated as she walked away. Then a burst of energy lifted his spirit and caught his voice. “Ginger!” he called.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Forget something?”

  “Not really.” He swallowed hard. Was he really ready to do this? Maybe there were too many questions in his head for him to hear his heart clearly.

  “Grant?” Her voice was just soft enough to show him the gentle, womanly Ginger that he’d caught a glimpse of on occasion. The woman he had trouble banishing from his mind.

  “I’d like to sit with you at the gathering, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I?” She gave him a frown that clearly said she thought he might be daft.

  Grant’s ears heated up despite the snow flurries flying about the air. “Well, I mean…” What exactly did he mean? Suddenly he wasn’t sure.

  “Last I heard, this is a free country. Sit wherever you want.” At this return of the gruffer Ginger, he was almost glad she’d misunderstood his intent.

  “Okay. I will,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

  “Is there anything else, Grant? I’m pretty hungry. Besides, I don’t want to keep Toni waiting.”

  “That’s it.” Deflated, Grant turned and headed back to Miss Sadie’s wagon where he’d left his bag while he helped Ginger with the tent. That definitely hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. Probably just as well. A cholera epidemic probably wasn’t the most appropriate time to start courting a girl. But mercy, did she have to act like she didn’t know that he was asking for more than a seat next to her at a church meeting?

  “What’s so funny?” Ginger demanded around a bite of cornbread from last night’s dinner. Toni was giggling outright, and Yellow Bird smiled quietly as she sat cross legged in the tent nursing Little Sam.

  Toni handed her a cup of coffee. “Grant asked you to sit with him at the meeting?”

  “Well, I don’t see what’s so funny about that.”

  “Are you truly that backward, my friend?”

  Incensed, Ginger set her cup on the ground. “I don’t think I care to sit here and be insulted.” She shoved up from the ground.

  “Oh, sit back down, you silly girl.” Toni filled her own cup and sat close to the fire. “Don’t you know why Grant asked you?”

  “I couldn’t figure at first,” Ginger said. She lowered herself to the ground once again and retrieved her cup. “But the more I thought on it, the more I realized he most likely didn’t want to have to stand through the whole service. He’s doing rounds, you know. I reckon he might be late.”

  Toni shook her head. “Ginger, when a man asks a woman if he can accompany her to a church meeting, it means he’d like to court her.”

  A thick chunk of cornbread made a detour down her throat and lodged in a bad place, choking Ginger. She started to cough, robbed of air as her mind raged against the information

  “Grant!” she sputtered. “You’re crazy. That’s not what he meant.”

  “Want me to ask him?” Toni’s smug look held no doubt whatsoever.

  “No!”

  “Admit it, then. You know that’s what Grant meant. He wants to court you.”

  Yellow Bird switched the baby to the other side. “The doctor is a good man.”

  Ginger gulped down another swig of coffee. “That’s your opinion,” she muttered. But she knew it wasn’t fair to leave the comment hanging in the air like that. Especially when he’d helped save Buddy’s life and had worked himself exhausted to doctor the wagon train. “Well, he is a good man, but that’s not the point.”

  Toni set the pot back on the fire and faced ginger. “I don’t know why you continue to pretend there’s nothing between you and Grant. Anyone with eyes can see how he looks at you.”

  Ginger’s stomach jumped, and she took another gulp. It just couldn’t be. How could she have been foolish enough to let Grant think he had a right to want to court her? It was one thing for her to give up her desire for revenge. But the thought of Grant as more than…well, it’s not that she’d never thought of it. And it wasn’t as repulsive to consider as Lane, for instance, but still…

  She set her empty cup on the ground and jumped up.

  Maybe she had somehow given Grant the wrong idea about the nature of their relationship, but she could certainly do something to discourage him from taking it any farther.

  Without a word to Toni or Yellow Bird, she ducked out of the tent into the frigid October air and started walking. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, but one thing was for sure, she wouldn’t return until she’d found Grant and told him a thing or two!

  An explosion of pain hit Web as he bent over to pour coffee into Miss Sadie’s cup. He couldn’t hold back a groan as the liquid nearly spilled out onto her lap.

  “Land sakes, Web Freeman. Give me that before you burn the hide off your hand.” Miss Sadie took the pot from him and stood up. “Sit down.”

  Dadburn, that woman was one for giving orders. He’d never taken orders from anyone, let alone a female, but just now, sitting seemed like the best thing for him to do. She sashayed to the fire and set the coffee pot next to the pot of soup. When she returned, she stood over him, hands on her wide hips and gave him that no-nonsense look he usually hated on a woman’s face. “I know you don’t have cholera. It don’t act this way. What ails you, Web?”

  Wincing, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t talk so loud. Do you want to tell the whole camp I’m sick?”

  She dropped to the bench that Yuley had fashioned for her out of some old, abandoned wagon parts. “All right.” She kept her voice low as though she understood his position. “Now, tell me what you have.”

  He’d kept his pain to himself for so long, now that it was impossible to hide, he felt naked. “I don’t rightly know what it is. I been hurtin’ worse and worse for a while now. And it’s where I can’t do…” Well, if she were the type of woman he usually associated with, he wouldn’t much care whether he offended her or not. But something about her way made him want to mind his manners.

  “Can’t do what?”

  He blew out a breath as the pain began to subside. “Go.”

  She peered closer. “You want me to go away?”

  Rolling his eyes, he leaned in closer. “I can’t go…to the outhouse. If you catch my meanin’.” And he sure hoped she would.

  Her eyes grew wide, but that was the only indication that she might be a little shocked by his admission. Decent folks just didn’t talk about such things. Even he knew that. But she shouldn’t have asked if she didn’t want to know. “Did you talk to Doctor Kelley?”

  The thought of the man left a bitter taste in Web’s mouth. “No, ma’am, and I don’t intend to.” Not after the way he implied Web wasn’t being a proper pa by letting Ginger go off alone to nurse the men. When had that girl ever listened to him in the first place? As a matter of fact, after she helped him with this last job, he was going to cut her loose to go west or do whatever she wanted to do.

  Miss Sadie scrutinized him, then sipped her coffee. She shrugged. “I reckon that’s your call.”

  “Hold on a minute. What do you think ails me?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not a doctor. But I’ve seen similar symptoms before. The good parson back home got a wasting sickness. Held on
to his side just like you do. Sometimes he’d get to hurting so bad, he’d faint dead away.”

  Luckily for Web, that had only happened once, and no one had paid him any mind. Thought he’d taken a nap.

  “A wasting sickness, ya say?”

  Web’s heart sank. If he had what Miss Sadie suggested, there wasn’t much point in stealing Harrison’s money. He wouldn’t be around to spend it, anyway.

  Twelve

  Kip Caldwell was finally out of the woods. The combination of onion soup and doses of quinine had killed the cholera that threatened to eat away at his insides. In the last few hours, he’d managed to keep a few bites of the soup down and several swallows of water. Not a lot, but infinitely better than before when he became violently ill from the smallest sip of water into his mouth.

  Buddy looked down at his pale, sleeping friend and shook his head. “I sure hope he pulls through like I did.” His voice cracked, and Grant suspected it had little to do with adolescent changing and more to do with the weight of responsibility bearing down on the poor lad. Grant’s heart went out to him. “This isn’t your fault, Buddy.”

  Tears shot to his eyes. “I was sick when I got to camp. If it wasn’t for me, no one else would have taken sick and died.” Angrily, he swiped away the tears that were making rapid trails down his cheeks.

  “You didn’t do it on purpose.” Grant slipped the bottle of quinine back into his bag. “No one blames you.”

  But he knew that wasn’t true. Plenty of folks, mainly those who had lost loved ones, did blame Buddy. Grant had even heard Ginger’s name grumbled about, since she and Buddy were kin. Blake had put out a half a dozen fires from people who wanted to send the Freemans packing. Only the fact that Ginger had been such a help to so many people and had brought in so much meat kept the grumbling from escalating into something more.

  Buddy jammed his hands into his trouser pockets and shook his head with determination. “I’m going to make it up to him. To all of the folks who’ve lost family.”