She shot him a glare, but it turned into a thoughtful look as she stirred the pot on the stove. “Your mum could be susceptible, I suppose. Get the blankets, and we’ll go see him in the barn.”
He had to lock his jaw in place to keep from telling her—once again—that she wouldn’t see the man either until they were sure it was safe. But he’d wait to argue the point when he was ready to take the supplies to the barn.
When he stepped into her chamber—his old room—a wave of nostalgia swept over him. Every aspect still looked the same. Same rough cut wooden boards on the walls. Same pegs mounted in the corner near the washstand. Even the same bedposts where he’d carved his name that time he’d been sent to bed without supper for sneaking off to fish when he was supposed to be checking the cattle.
Yet the whole place was so very different, with one of Cathleen’s frilly dresses laid over the bed, and several fancy combs and bottles on the dresser. At least no white underthings peeked out at him from anywhere.
He stopped at the old trunk by the foot of the bed, the one where Mum always kept the spare blankets and bits of cloth. Inside, familiar quilts lay like old friends. Some he could even remember helping Mum stitch.
Pressing those memories aside, he gathered the three from the top, then lowered the lid and left the room exactly as he found it. Yet the sight of very womanly things—Cathleen’s things—in the midst of his familiar domain left an impression burned in his mind.
When he returned to the main room, Cathleen was piling cloth bundles into a basket. “I have a stew simmering for supper, but it’s not ready yet. I suppose I can come back for it.”
She looked up at him, her brow knit. “I put your Mum down for a nap when I first saw the Indians. Do you think she’ll be all right for a while if we bar the door?”
Now was the time to put his foot down. “She’ll be fine, because you’ll be here with her. I don’t want you exposed to whatever Mato has.”
Her chin jutted forward the slightest bit. “He needs someone to care for him, Reuben.”
He kept his voice steady, but laced a bit of steel through it. “That’s what I plan to do. And Akecheta can help. Won’t be the first time I’ve nursed an Indian through a white man’s disease.”
That determined look in her eye didn’t fade. “So you think you’re less likely to get sick? Why? Because you’re the strong man and I’m just a weak female?”
Ouch. That wasn’t what he’d been thinking at all. He cared too much about her to let something happen to her. Something he could prevent. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than watch her suffer the way the Crow had suffered those years ago.
He took a step forward, relaxing his posture the way he would with a frightened horse. “Cathy. That’s not…” How could he tell his reason for protecting her without revealing everything inside him?
She inhaled a long breath, loud enough he could hear it even with several feet between them. Her eyes softened the tiniest bit, and glimmered with sincerity. “Helping people is what I do, Reuben. Please don’t try to stop me.”
“Cathleen. I…I just don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t… I couldn’t…” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Why couldn’t he find the right words?
She stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Her hand touched his arm, the gentlest of touches, yet the pressure drove deep. “You don’t have to keep me safe, you know.”
“I do.” His hand dropped from his hair, and he straightened. How could he explain this fierce craving in his chest? “I want to.”
Her thumb stroked his arm, the pressure warm, even through the wool of his shirt. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
He didn’t like it, not one bit. But with those luminous brown eyes pleading that way, he was powerless to say no. “Please. Be careful.”
That smile bloomed on her face, making him feel that—just maybe—giving in had been worth it. But it couldn’t quite squelch the churning in his gut.
~ ~ ~
CATHLEEN PEERED INTO the dim light of the barn as she followed Reuben inside. She’d watched the Indians speaking to him in the yard, but that had been at a distance through the tiny window. And it was before she’d known for certain they were friendly.
The idea that Reuben not only interacted with the Indians, but counted some of them as close friends, was still a marvel to her. He paused by the threshold, struck a match, and lit one of the barn lanterns, then they proceeded toward the back corner where he’d slept those first few nights.
A rustling sounded in the hay as one of the dark figures rose to his feet.
“Cathleen, this is Akecheta and Mato.” Reuben motioned first to the man standing, then the smaller Indian curled in the hay. The poor brave on the ground let out a moan and coiled into a tighter ball.
Her gaze roamed his body for symptoms, but she couldn’t see much of him, covered in his blanket. She glanced up at the tall Indian and nodded. “How do you do?”
The man grunted a word. Not English that she could tell.
Reuben spoke a string of Indian words, and the other man nodded, answering with a few words in the same language. The cadence was rhythmic, with alternating high and low sounds. So foreign to her ears.
When it sounded like the men were done speaking, she looked to Reuben for interpretation.
He touched her arm and spoke in a low tone. “I told him you were a healer, here helping Mum. He said you could check Mato.”
She nodded and eased the basket down beside the man. She should kneel and check his symptoms, but a sudden shyness held her back. Not only was this a strange man she’d never met before, but an Indian, no less. Lord, give me strength.
He moaned again, and the sound loosened the concern holding her back.
Dropping to her knees by the man’s head, she stroked his black hair away from his brow. The braid that must have been intended to restrain the locks was losing the battle. His forehead didn’t feel warm, at least not very.
She peered up at the Indian looming behind his friend. “What are his symptoms?”
He answered in the sing-song Indian language, and Reuben spoke after his friend finished.
“He’s casting up his accounts.”
She glanced up at Reuben. “Runny stools, too? How long has he had the symptoms?”
It might have been her imagination, but in the glow of the lantern he still held, it looked like his ears turned red. He looked to Akecheta, who spoke words in rapid succession.
“He, uh, said the symptoms have been there since yesterday morning.”
She turned back to the patient and pressed two fingers to the pulse in his neck. “And the other?”
“He cannot dishonor his friend by speaking of such things.”
She sent Reuben a sharp look.
He held up his hands, palm out. “I know. I’m just the messenger.”
She sent that same glare to the Indian standing over her but didn’t give voice to her frustration. If she had any chance of helping his friend, she needed to know what they were dealing with here.
Mato’s pulse was steady, if a little light. When she shone the lantern into his eyes, the pupils shrank evenly as they should. He opened his mouth when Reuben translated her request, but no bright red bumps marred his tongue or gums. Good.
“I’m going to move this blanket so I can see your arms now.” She spoke to the man on the ground, but loud enough for the guard above her to hear.
As she eased the cloth back, her gaze took in every bare patch of skin she could find. His neck, left arm from the elbow down, the skin of his right hand. Everything looked to be a normal light-brown color. Not yellowed. No rashes that she could see, although she needed to verify that.
“Mato, have you developed any red bumps or a rash?” Maybe she would have better luck asking the patient directly than going through his bodyguard.
Reuben squatted beside her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. In a low tone, he repeated the words in the Indian’s language.
&nbs
p; The protective warmth of Reuben’s touch stole her attention so it was hard to focus on Mato’s faint answer. As she tried to comprehend the response, she finally realized it was spoken in Indian. Of course. She needed to forget about the strong presence beside her and focus on caring for her patient.
“He doesn’t think so.”
Well that was a good start. She’d need to have the men check him over in a little while, when she went to get the broth. They had to rule out typhoid, which would surely show itself in a rash at this point. For now, though, the poor man needed to drink something before his muscles seized up.
She poured a mug of ginger tea and slipped her hand behind his head to prop it a little. “This is going to taste bitter.”
Reuben translated beside her, and the man took two sips, then grunted and sank back against the blanket. It was interesting that Reuben interpreted her words for Mato, but not when she spoke to Akecheta, yet both men responded in their native language. Either Akecheta could understand English better than he could speak it, or he chose not to give voice to the words.
She ran a cold cloth over Mato’s head, even though he wasn’t feverish. After a bit more encouragement, he finally downed the remainder of the tea in the small mug. If this was a typical stomach ailment, the ginger would help a great deal.
Easing back onto her heels, she settled the blanket under Mato’s arms. “I’m going to get food for you both.” She turned to Reuben. “I need to know for sure it’s not typhoid. Can you check under his clothing to make sure he doesn’t have a rash?”
Reuben only raised a brow. She ignored it and pushed to her feet. He gripped her elbow and helped her rise.
She hurried with her basket to the house, and within a quarter hour, had the foodstuffs loaded in a crate and was headed back to the barn. The wind whipped at her hair, pulling it from its pins. The temperature had dropped substantially, and the clouds loomed low and gray. That Chinook wind that had brought such wonderful balmy days must be gone. Did that mean more snow was coming soon?
Chapter Eighteen
THE PROTECTION OF the barn was a welcome relief, and Cathleen blew at a tendril of hair that plastered itself in her mouth. What a sight she must be. Maybe she could cover her dishevelment with a bright smile.
Reuben appeared from the shadows, striding toward her. His tall form and broad shoulders set off butterflies in her stomach as it usually did these days. Especially after that kiss. She could still feel the memory of it when she closed her eyes. It was hard to believe a man like Reuben, so vibrant and larger than life, could have any feelings for someone like her. Just a simple apothecary’s daughter from Boston.
He met her halfway across the barn and took the crate from her grip. His eyes searched hers, apprehension in their blue shadows. Was he worried about his friend? Or that the sickness would spread to his mother?
She forced a soft smile. “It’s getting really cold out there. Windy, too.”
He nodded, and turned toward the back corner where their visitors were settled. She tried to straighten her hair as they walked, but so many wisps had pulled loose, there was no hope.
He still didn’t speak, so she switched to a different topic. “Did you check Mato for a rash? I meant to tell you to look at his hands and feet especially.”
“We looked but didn’t find anything.”
Relief eased through her as she let out a breath. “That’s good. Really good.” No apparent signs of either typhoid or yellow fever. And with his temperature not elevated, could the man’s problem be that he’d gotten hold of bad food? Lord, please let that be the case. Give me wisdom.
Akecheta sat by his friend and quickly downed the stew and sourdough bread she’d brought. Mato wasn’t nearly as eager, but he did keep his eyes open now and had uncurled a little from the ball he’d been in before.
“Are you feeling better?” She poured another half mug of tea for the man.
He spoke a single word, and Reuben offered the meaning. “A little.”
“I’m glad.” She kept her attention focused on her patient. “See if you can eat this bread with more tea.”
It took several gentle urgings, but the man finished the drink and ate half a slice of bread. They were making progress.
She finally straightened and glanced around the barn. Even though the structure kept out most of the wind, she could hear it howling outside, and the temperature had dropped, so she couldn’t stop shivering. These men couldn’t sleep out here. They’d freeze to death with no fire.
Cutting a glance at Reuben, she rose to her feet. “Would you help me carry this box back to the house?”
If she could assure him Mato didn’t have a contagious disease, maybe he’d let the men sleep in the cabin. But they couldn’t discuss it in front of their guests.
As she turned to leave, Akecheta grunted a word at her. She paused and looked at the man, then at Reuben.
“He says thank you.” Reuben’s low tone was accompanied by the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
She looked back at the Indian, sitting tall beside his friend. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you both came to us.”
He nodded, then looked away. Effectively dismissing her.
But it didn’t stop the elation in her chest as she and Reuben left the barn.
The moment they stepped outside, the wind attacked with ferocity, and she pulled her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders. She should have worn her coat, but how could she have known the weather would change so quickly?
“Reuben, those men can’t sleep in the barn tonight. It’s getting too cold.”
He shot her a glance as he huddled against a gust. “I’m not bringing them inside to infect the place.”
“But I’m fairly certain he doesn’t have typhoid or yellow fever.” She rested a hand on his arm. “Reuben, I think it may have been something he ate. It will pass soon, maybe even by morning. We can’t let them freeze to death out there.”
He slid a look at her but didn’t answer.
She knew better than to push him, so she left it alone until they reached the cabin.
Mrs. Scott was just shuffling from her room when they stepped inside, her white-gray hair mussed but her eyes bright. “There you are, dear. I was just gonna get supper started.”
Cathleen followed her toward the kitchen and bent down at the cook stove to add another piece of wood. “I made some Irish stew for us. Would you like to butter the bread?”
~ ~ ~
REUBEN WIPED HIS mouth on a serviette, then pushed back from the table. “Food was good.”
He needed to get out to the barn and settle the animals for the night. And maybe he could make it outside before Cathleen started pressing to bring his friends into the house again. Akecheta would be fine in the elements. The brave knew how to survive in the coldest temperatures. Especially with a few extra furs he could take them.
Normally, he wouldn’t worry about Mato either. But would the man’s weakened condition affect his ability to withstand the cold? What exactly was wrong with him? Cathleen seemed to think it was nothing more than bad meat. Would that lay the man so low? Reuben had suffered that malady himself once or twice at his winter cabin, when the hunting had been poor and he’d been forced to eat something he normally wouldn’t touch. And he did remember being sick enough to wish for death. Could their fiery nurse be right? Maybe.
“Reuben?”
He made it to the door before her word caught up to him. “Yep.” He didn’t turn, just slipped his coat on and fastened the hooks. But it didn’t stop his full awareness as she stepped close behind him.
“I’ll have your mum in bed in about an hour. Will you please bring your friends into the house then? I can scrub things well tomorrow, so she won’t risk getting sick. Please?”
He clamped his jaw against the pleading in her voice. Why did she care so much about those men anyway? She only met them a few hours ago. And they were Indians, for mercy’s sake. Eastern city girls were su
pposed to be shaking to their toes at the mere thought of Indians. She cared far too much for people.
His traitorous body turned for a glimpse of her, and it had the exact effect he’d known it would. He melted. This caring spirit was exactly what he loved about her, exactly what drew him to her in the first place. That and her magnificent smile.
He breathed out a sigh. “All right.”
She rewarded him with one of those smiles, then grabbed his arm and pulled him down to plant a kiss on his cheek.
The warmth of it sluiced through him. She started to back away, but that absolutely wouldn’t do. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back as he lowered his lips to hers. He kept it short and light. Just a memory of that kiss from earlier.
Still, when he backed away, all the blood seemed to have emptied from his head, leaving him blinking to regain control. He turned toward the door so she couldn’t see her effect on him, as he grabbed his gloves and struggled them on. “I’ll bring them inside in an hour.”
“Thank you, Reuben.”
If he didn’t know better, he’d have said there was a touch of laughter in her tone. Most likely because she’d seen through what he’d been trying to hide. Knew exactly what his reaction meant. This woman could read him far too well.
As much as that should scare him—and it did—a small piece of him felt the relief of knowing someone cared enough to try to understand him. That Cathleen cared that much.
~ ~ ~
THE NEXT MORNING in the cold wind, Reuben stood at the base of the porch stairs, stroking the muzzle of Mato’s horse. He looked over at Akecheta, who sat tall on his own mount. “You are welcome to stay longer, my friends.”
The brave shook his head. “Our people wait for us. Your kindness will be long remembered.”
Cathleen stepped from the cabin then, saving him from having to mentally translate an answer into Crow. She took the stairs gracefully and moved up beside Akecheta’s horse. That hint of nerves he’d detected when she first met the Indians in the barn yesterday was long gone now.
The Lady and the Mountain Call (Mountain Dreams Series Book 5) Page 14