Laine gagged at the first stench of burning flesh, but all she heard was Matt’s scream. She knew he passed out.
Robert smeared honey, then their sulphur powder over each raw place, put on fresh pads, and bound them in place.
The clang of the knife hitting the metal basin roused Laine to the others’ harsh breathing.
“I’ll scrub this out and bring it back. You’ll need to bathe him to keep the fever down. And call me if you need me.”
She spared Robert a quick look. His dark shadowed eyes, hollow cheeks, and slumped shoulders spoke volumes of his own exhaustion.
“I’m stronger than I look. Than I have behaved.”
“I know.” He offered a tired smile. “Our women are our strength and at times our backbone.”
Laine pulled the straight-backed chair close to the bed. She fussed with the covers, then leaned over to press tiny kisses over Matt’s face.
“You are going to heal. I’ll fight for you until you can fight for yourself. Please hear me, Matt,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me again.”
As the long hours unfolded and his fever rose, she began the unrelenting round of sponging his body, forcing him to drink the tisane that was consistently replenished, and praying.
How everyone else fared she neither knew nor cared. She was selfish in using her strength and formidable will to keep him alive.
After losing so many dear loved ones, the good Lord wouldn’t have brought Matt back only to cruelly take him from her.
It was the mantra she repeated as the night waned toward morning.
Chapter Twelve
When Laine awoke before dawn, it was to the sound of a long drawn-out groan. The sound came from her, not Matt. She had dozed off with one arm cradling her head, the other hand clutched around Matt’s. Her hunched position in the chair brought an ache to her back and pinpricks when she moved. The heat of Matt’s body kept the damp chill at bay. Robert had come several times during the night offering to relieve her, but she refused him.
Matt’s breathing seemed easier, but the damp folded cloth she had placed on his forehead had slipped to the side and was dry. Dipping, then wringing out the cloth brought the faint, fresh scent of mint to her nose. Adding herbs to sponge water was something her mother had done. She bathed his face and neck with gentle motions. Then she used her finger to moisten his lips with the now cooled tisane. His tongue licked up the drops. Aching the way she did, it was a struggle to lift him to drink. He needed more, but after a few sips turned his face away. She set aside the mug.
Laine eased his head down to the pillow, sweeping his hair back. She was startled to find herself looking into his fever-bright eyes.
“Laine?”
“Morning.” She smiled, but Matt pressed against the pillow, angling his head to the side. When she realized why, a heated blush ran from her forehead to her toes. The tip of her breast almost touched his lips. She eased back, not knowing if she should apologize or ignore it.
“I need …” He licked his lips, looking at her. “A pot.”
“A pot?” She frowned. What fever induced nonsense … “Oh, a chamber pot.”
Laine hurried to the other side of the bed to remove the pot from beneath. She tried to remember Robert’s instructions about helping Matt move so he didn’t tear the wound. When she reached for the sheet covering his lower body, Matt resisted.
She stared at his deeply muscled chest dusted with dark hair. She didn’t know her gaze was both curious and hungry as she traced the corded length of his arms and the strength of his hands.
“Laine.”
“You really need to let go.”
She tugged.
He held tight.
“Stop behaving like a modest maiden. You need help. I am the only one here. Let … it … go.”
“Get out.”
“It’s my room. Matt, I’m warning you to stop being so male about this. I’ve bathed you all night!” She glared at him. Her chin jutted forward. “And Matt,” she offered a sugar sweet smile, “I didn’t stop at your waist. Now let the darn sheet go.”
Laine prayed he would blame her red face on their struggle. The voice was the no-nonsense one she used on Tater. She equated their behavior the same. She had not exactly lied to him. She had bathed him from shoulder to toe, only he was half covered by the sheet, which she reversed to wash the other side.
It wasn’t all for her modesty; she had performed the same task when her father was ill.
But this was Matt.
Still, like Mama said, when there was no one else, you did, or you did without.
She hovered as he managed the struggle to sit up on the edge of the bed with the sheet clutched over his lap.
“Laine, I’m … asking nicely. Go. You’re … embarrassing the heck out of me.”
“Would it be better if I’d flirted and kissed you into submission?”
The soft knock preceded Robert’s entry. He glanced from Laine’s red face to Matt’s fever-flushed one.
“Just in time I see.”
“Robert,” Matt announced with satisfaction.
“Yes, Robert. Do talk to this stubborn man,” she ordered as she left.
Closing the door behind her, Laine collapsed against it. The fever, wounds, and exhaustion should have left Matt weak. Unfortunately she needed the support at her back to stand. The others were leaving this morning. Her cheeks were flaming. Matt must think her a brazen hussy. What had possessed her to ask him that? She decided she needed coffee.
And coffee was waiting. So was Aaron, seated at the table sipping from a mug. He moved to rise and she waved him back, pouring a cup for herself. The shutters were pulled back to let in a soft fresh breeze, the light brightening by the moment. She sipped at the yam and rye seed blend that made a coffee-like taste, wishing it would dissipate the exhaustion of the long night and restore her to face an even longer day.
“Miz Laine, you better sit down before you fall down.”
“If I sit, I won’t get up. There’s too much to do. Breakfast to start.”
“Miz Rachel baked beans and bacon. She made cornbread too. She also ironed dry our clothes. I finally shooed her off to sleep about two hours ago. The boys went fishing and Law is tending the horses.”
Rachel had been busy. Laine had missed the flatiron on the hearth, the covered kettle, and the linen-wrapped pans of cornbread.
She smiled at Aaron. “Thank you for sending her to bed. That girl doesn’t know when to quit.”
“Family trait?” he teased.
“Perhaps. But also one needed for survival.”
“There should be more to living.”
“I agree. This persecution will end. People will be able to lead their lives in peace and not be afraid all the time.”
“Miz Laine, I can stay and help you take care of Matt.”
She thought about his offer. There were many advantages but a few major drawbacks. These were hunted men just as Matt was now. She might get away with hiding one, but two? No. The risk was too great. And she had to be ruthlessly practical. She couldn’t afford to feed another man. The idea shamed her. She had been raised to share whatever they had.
At the same time, she knew wishes that it could be otherwise were not going to fill her larder. As she had told him, survival was all.
“Aaron, I do thank you for the offer. Law, Robert, and Billy will need you to help keep them safe. We’ll manage.”
Her brother’s excited voice along with Billy’s saved her from saying more.
“Laine, I got fish. Boy, are they biting.” He scratched at his neck. “The skeeters are biting, too. But look what me and Billy found.”
Billy presented a look inside his pouched shirt. “See what we found. Quail eggs.”
“My goodness, this is a surprise, but wait. Did you empty the nests?”
Tater brought an empty bowl to the table. “No way. I remembered. Only two or three from each
.”
She watched as he gently lifted each one, silently counting with Billy.
“Sixteen eggs, Billy.”
“That’s right. Makes … two for each.”
“Looks like a special breakfast this morning. I’d best get busy.”
It was a filling meal for a dangerous journey. They stood or sat, even Matt, who joined them over Laine’s objections. Robert and Aaron had to carry him in, but the fever shakes had started. He couldn’t eat or hold a mug.
Laine stood behind him and could feel the heat coming from his body. The few times she helped him drink she saw the overbright glitter that made gemlike shards of blue, green, and gold splinter in his hazel eyes. She was relieved when Law took charge and the men took him back to bed.
When they were ready, Laine found the leave taking between Billy and her brother painful to watch. The boys made a solemn occasion of transferring ownership of Capt. Tate when Law refused to take him. He explained in blunt terms they would be running and hiding, and he refused to risk the dog giving them away despite Billy’s assurances to the contrary.
Her earlier conversation with Rachel came to mind. Tater was going to be lonely without his friend. Billy gave his dog a last pat, held out his hand to Tater. What began as a handshake ended with hugs. Laine looked away. She noticed the men glanced aside as well. The men mounted with Billy riding double with Law.
She had said her goodbyes, so was surprised when Law leaned down to speak to her.
“Don’t forget for a minute they’ll be hunting Matt. And if they find him here, you will be branded a traitor, too. Give some thought to finding another place where you all can hide. Get him well, Laine. I owe him. We all do. He saved our lives.”
“Someday we’ll have time for a cup of coffee and you can tell me that story. Be safe. All of you.”
Tater came to stand beside her. She slid her arm over his shoulders as Rachel came to the other side and put her arm around Laine’s waist. The dog behaved like a gentleman sitting before the three of them, his tongue lolling as they rode away.
“Will they make it without getting caught?” Tater asked.
“They will, Tater. We’ll say a prayer each night for them. You go back to bed, Rachel. There is nothing except caring for Matt that can’t wait.”
She turned for the cabin. Tater tugged her pants.
“Laine, I gotta confess something.”
Lord, spare me boys and their mischief. “And what would that be?”
“What Law said. About having a place to hide. You don’t need to look. I have one in the thicket. Matt knows.”
“Matt?”
“Yeah, I told him.”
“Well I think you are the smartest brother a woman could have.” She tousled his hair. “Truly a clever boy. And you kept it a secret. I need to see this place. We have a big something to hide.”
“We do?”
“Sure do.”
“Com’on, tell me.”
“Matt’s horse. It’s a dead giveaway if anyone comes here looking for him. Just let me check on Matt and then we’ll go.”
“Go now, Laine,” Rachel reassured her, “The fresh air will do you good, and I can watch over him until you get back.”
When Rachel entered the room, she heard Matt’s teeth chattering. He shook with chills.
“Oh, Matt, if you weren’t wounded, Laine would tear a strip off your hide.”
With every blanket and quilt Rachel piled on, she scolded him, but Matt was beyond hearing her.
Laine was scolding, too. But silently, with herself on the receiving end. The deeper she went into the thicket, the more she realized she hadn’t paid close enough attention to her brother’s doings.
It was hot and still and shadowed, but Laine saw that Tater went forward confidently.
“Did you make this trail?”
“Just widened it a little. Most of it was here. But there never was sign anybody’d been around. Almost there, Laine.”
Laine wished she had kept track of how far they had come. Looking behind her, the towering trees blocked out most of the light. When she glanced ahead, both Tater and the dog were running forward.
She hurried, too. The clearing was suddenly there. It wasn’t large, but a small stream flowed through it.
“Look here, Laine.”
She walked toward him, amazed to see a brush shelter so cleverly hidden against the tree trunks she hadn’t realized it was there.
“Tater, you have my thanks, and my respect. I couldn’t have found a better place. Do you think we could keep Blueboy here?”
“Sure. I’ll need to check on him a few times a day. He should be safe. I’ve never seen more’n deer, rabbits, and birds around. There’s another path that leads to water over this way. I’ve never explored it. I know it’s not our lake. I try finding the opening when I have the dugout.”
“It’s a good thought, but leave it for now. I want to get back. Oh, Tater, is the water good?”
“Sweet as ours.”
With a whistle, Capt. Tate came bounding from the woods.
Laine followed them home. Her thoughts were taken with all she could spare and then store in the shelter. After a few minutes on the shadowed trail, a sense of urgency swept over her. She could find no reason for it, but she ordered her brother to hurry.
Nearly breathless when she reached the cabin, she felt foolish. Nothing was amiss. But the feeling didn’t leave. She helped Tater saddle Blueboy, gave him a small sack of grain, and sent him on his way.
Her own stock would benefit from picketing on the lush grass, which seemed to have grown overnight because of the heavy rain.
Laine left them. Tater could attend to it.
Entering the cabin, she went directly to Matt and found the reason she had hurried back.
He was buried under a mound of quilts and blankets. Rachel frantically tried to keep him covered and hold him still. Her slender form with arms and legs twisted every which way brought hysterical laughter to Laine’s lips.
She swallowed it. Not only would Rachel never forgive her, but it was too serious a matter to laugh.
“Help me, Laine! He’s shaking with chills but keeps throwing off the covers.”
“Leave him. Get two buckets full from the rain barrel. Go on.”
“Matt. Matt, stop fighting.” She found the damp cloth he had flung off and gently laved it over his face, talking softly all the while.
“H-hurts.”
“I know, love.” He looked and sounded so vulnerable that she hurt for him.
Matt ached too much to open his eyes. The bone-deep chills racked his body with pain and the incredible heat of fever. But Laine’s voice was low and rich and slid over him like a soft caress. Slowly he grew quiet. But he had no control over the shakes. Cool air touched his leg. Then icy cold cloth touched every bit of exposed skin. He tried to stifle the groans. Thankfully it ended.
“C-cold.”
“Your fever is climbing. I need to cool your body, love. Just a little more.”
Matt locked his jaw not to curse when the torture began again. He felt betrayed by Laine’s caressing voice calling him love, while he gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering. It went on and on.
In a broken voice he begged her to stop.
“Almost done.”
She hated hurting him, but this fever had to be broken. Rolling him to his unwounded side, she made Rachel hold him in place while she went behind him to tuck the edges of a blanket beneath him. Rolling him to rest on his back, she wrapped him tight. Then she and Rachel replaced the blankets and quilts on top of him.
“Sister mine, I couldn’t do without you. Go to sleep, Rachel. I’ll stay with him.”
“You need to sleep, too.”
“I’ll rest.”
Laine wrung the cloth out, folded it neatly to place on his forehead. She lay down beside him. The chills had subsided from the violent shaking gripping his bo
dy.
She spoke softly, telling him about Tater’s hidden place, unconsciously stroking his thickly stubbled cheek that enhanced the masculine contours of his face. She listened to his uneven breathing.
Her voice grew softer still, her breaths deeper, and soon she slept.
Rachel’s hand across her mouth brought Laine awake in a heartbeat.
“Listen to the dog,” Rachel whispered.
The deep-throated growls seemed to fill the cabin.
“It’s been going on for a while. He’s standing in front of the door. Not barking, just growling. Tater can’t quiet him. I was afraid to unbar the door and let him out.” She took her hand from Laine’s mouth.
“Laine … w-what’s wrong?”
“Hush, Matt. Go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.”
“The … dog?”
“Likely some animal prowling around. Nothing to worry about.”
But she was worried. Her heart raced. She rose and pulled Rachel away from the bed as she strapped on her gun.
“Stay with him. Don’t let him make any noise. Gag him if needed.”
She felt limp as laundry left out in the rain with the rumpled clothes she slept in and her hair tumbling every which way.
She had to battle back the panic that attacked her. It wasn’t just Matt’s life at stake, but those of her brother and sister. And herself. They all depended on her. And never had Laine felt the burden of that responsibility as she did now.
She went to meet this threat.
Chapter Thirteen
They came with torches flaring held high above their heads, menacing figures shrouded in darkness. Laine met them, gun in hand. Fear crawled up her backbone. She couldn’t make out one face.
“We’re huntin’ traitors. We’re searchin’ this here cabin.”
She didn’t recognize the voice, but heard the threat clear enough.
“No one is searching my home.”
“They’re killers and traitors. If you’re harboring them that makes you one of them, too,” another man yelled.
“I’ll shoot the first man off his horse.”
The Homecoming Page 10