She lifted the bite to his mouth, trying not to feel the intimacy of feeding him from her bare hand. Trying to ignore the tingle that swept down her arm when his lips brushed the pads of her fingers. She’d best guard her heart much better than she was doing now.
Maybe talking would help. “Our camp is only a twenty-minute walk from here. Do you think you could make it there?”
His gaze flicked to his burned foot, but he nodded, chewing the corncake. When he opened for another bite, she was more careful not to touch him as she placed the food inside.
“There’s no rush I suppose, as long as we get there before tonight.” She glanced down at his coat and buckskins. “Do you want to change out of these wet things?”
“I’m all right.” He looked like just chewing the corncake was wearing him out. After he ate a bit more, she could use the blanket to make a more comfortable bed for him to rest.
Then, perhaps he would have enough strength to travel.
What about his burns? She could see the mark on his hand and on the base of his shoe, which probably meant he had a burn mark on the bottom of his foot. Those would both be painful, no doubt. “Do you have any salves that help with burns in your pack?”
His brow creased as he chewed. “Can’t remember.”
Of course not. She could search while he rested. And did he have other burns that should be treated? What about inside his body? If the lightning singed the skin in two places, couldn’t it have done internal damage, too?
She had no idea how things like that worked, but the notion seemed possible. Daniel might not tell her if something else was wrong, so she’d have to watch for symptoms.
His eyes had drooped to half-mast as he chewed the last bite of cake.
“Can you eat a little jerky?” Food would help him rest better, and probably help his body recover faster.
He didn’t nod this time, just opened his mouth to accept whatever she put in. Like a baby bird taking food from its mother. Even if he couldn’t remember her, at least he trusted her. Maybe he was in too much pain to worry.
While he chewed the gummy stuff, she arranged the blanket. He worked down three bites, then his head lolled to the side. “Done.”
She set the rest of the food away. “Let’s lay you down so you can rest better.” Gripping his strong shoulders in her hands, she eased him down on his left side, his head and upper body on the blanket. “Comfortable?”
“Mmm.”
Hopefully, that was a yes.
She couldn’t help brushing aside the hair that tousled across his brow. His skin had a sturdy feel to it. Not quite leathery, but thick from years spent in the elements. His hair was deliciously thick, wrapping itself around her fingers. She stroked a second time, letting herself relish the feel of his locks.
“Feels good.” His mumbled words drifted up as though from his sleep.
Had she said her thoughts out loud? But no, he must mean the way she stroked his head. The poor man was so miserable, if this one thing made him feel more comfortable, it was the least she could do.
Settling herself so she could reach him better, she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing his scalp with the tips of her nails. Over and over. This way and that. The rhythm, the feel of him, being so near, it all wrapped around her, pulling her into a trance-like state.
It seemed to do the same for Daniel, too, because his breathing grew deep. Long. Steady.
She should get up. Leave him to rest. But as she pulled her hand from his hair, she couldn’t help leaning in to press a kiss against his temple. Sleep well, Daniel. I need you.
And as she sat there, watching him rest, she did her best to convince herself she only needed him as a guide. A man who could help her reach her brother. Could help her experience things the eastern papers would love to print. He could be nothing more to her.
Chapter Twelve
So much is unclear. The effort to be strong is more than I can give.
~ Daniel
The ache pulsing through Daniel’s right leg almost overcame the burning in his hand. Almost. Combined, the pain was enough to clench his jaw, requiring all his concentration to keep from clawing at himself.
He’d not heard the woman moving around in some time. Maybe she’d gone back to the camp she kept talking about. Something about her struck a familiar chord, but his mind couldn’t churn through the muddy depths to decipher his memories.
Regardless, she was too pretty to be out here in the Territories. Too innocent for this harsh, unrelenting land.
Yet, just now, he didn’t seem to have the strength to worry about the way her gaze seeped down inside him, compelling him. And her touch... Saints afire. When she’d run her fingers through his hair, the feel of her had soaked over him like water to quench the aching fire.
If she’d start that up again, he’d give her anything she asked. Do anything. If only she could make this burning pain melt away.
NOELLE SAT AT THE EDGE of the stream under the shadow of an overhanging tree and watched the fish dart through the depths. From here, she could just see Daniel, so she’d know when he awoke.
While he rested, she’d gone back to the camp and sorted through every supply in their packs. Since he wasn’t in a condition to care for their well-being, she had to know what they possessed. She’d have to be the one to provide for them now. At least for a little while.
Going through Daniel’s packs was like taking inventory. At least, she’d tried to think of it that way. Two pounds of salt, three packs of dried meat, a satchel of grain for the horses, two rather evil-looking metal traps. She’d have to ask Daniel whether they should set those out or not. Thankfully, he’d not had any unmentionables among his things, just a cotton shirt that he must wear in the summer.
She’d brought the few bottles and jars tied in a bundle with her. None were labeled, but maybe Daniel would remember what each contained when he saw them. Surely something would spur a memory.
She’d left the other satchel alone as soon as she glimpsed the contents, although their images still sifted through her mind. A rough wooden toy, a smooth stone about the size of her fist, a beaded pouch, and an engraved golden locket. Things that were special to him, if she had to guess.
Perhaps gifts from people dear. The beaded pouch looked like the same type of craftsmanship they’d seen in the Indian camp. He’d talked about Indian friends before, so maybe the purse had been a parting gift? Although, wouldn’t that kind of beadwork have been done by a woman?
A thought pierced her mind, slicing its way down her throat to impale her heart. What if he had an Indian wife? Just like Mr. Channing and Little Otter. Elmer had said that was common among mountain men.
Bile churned in her stomach, and she took in deep breaths to keep the stuff from spouting upwards into her throat. He’d never mentioned a wife, but that didn’t prove he wasn’t wed. She’d have to ask him. If he had a woman somewhere counting the days ’til he returned, maybe they should head toward wherever he’d left her. His wife would want to tend his injuries.
And if he was already spoken for, she’d have to guard her heart all the more.
A rustle of leaves sounded behind her, and she turned, her heart pulsing in her throat as though she’d been caught. Silly girl. The sound must have come from Daniel, who still lay on his side about twenty strides away.
His foot shifted—the burned one. Was it aching? Surely so. He’d been asleep for close to three hours, if she judged correctly by the position of the sun, although it seemed so much longer than that. Perhaps he was ready to eat again.
Carrying the satchel of medicines, she padded toward him, then sank to her knees at his side. He didn’t move. Should she wake him?
A lock of hair curled across his forehead, and her fingers reached to brush the strands back before she realized what she was doing. The warmth of his skin brought her fingers to life, making her achingly aware of every sensation.
A groan emanated from him, and she froze, her fingers sti
ll pressed into his hair. After she eased her hand away, he rolled onto his back. This time, the moan that slipped through his lips seemed to come from deep within, a guttural cry that carried so much anguish, her chest ached as though a bit of his pain had taken root inside her.
“What is it, Daniel? How can I help?” She stroked her fingers across his brow again, craving to do more—anything to relieve his agony.
He reached up to her hand, and she started to pull it away. But he clasped her fingers, holding them like a lifeline. For a long moment, she sat there, holding his hand with her knuckles resting on his forehead. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, as though he were pushing out the pain.
She stroked her thumb over the backs of his fingers, feeling the coarseness of a man who used his hands to stay alive in this rough mountain country. His hands were so much larger than hers and tanned. Hers were pale since she’d worn gloves while they traveled through the summer. With her fingers cradled inside his grip, she felt so protected. Even in his injured state, she had no doubt he would fight to his last breath for her safety, should danger arise.
It might have been a quarter hour they stayed like that, and she would have happily sat for much longer with her hand nestled in his, especially if it gave him comfort.
But his eyes flicked open. He scanned the forest around them as if trying to orient himself, much like he’d done the first time he’d opened his eyes after she found him. Then his focus wandered down to her, hovering on her face, like he was still trying to place her.
“How do I know you?” His voice rasped, but at least it was stronger than before.
Still, the words sent a sluice of disappointment through her. She squeezed his hand. “You’ve been guiding me and the rest of my party since the Missouri River. The others chose to stay at Fort Whitson three days back, but you’re taking me the rest of the way to my brother’s place in the Canadian territory.”
The creases in his brow deepened. “Does your brother live near Hungry Wolf’s people?”
She hesitated, searching her memory for any Indian names Simeon might have mentioned. “There is a Blackfoot tribe near them, but I don’t recall names. They’re situated three days west and slightly south of Fort Hamilton.” Would he remember that place? Could he still guide them there, even if his memory didn’t come back?
A new fear surged through her. Lord, don’t let us be stranded here. Please heal Daniel’s mind.
He seemed to be straining. Then his body eased as he released a long breath. “Maybe it’ll come back to me.”
All his former tension seemed to flood into her muscles and joints. “You don’t remember at all?”
He slid a weary glance at her. “It’s hard to think with this headache.”
The pounding in her chest seemed to spread into her throat. Lord, let the problem be merely a headache. She turned to the satchel, pulling her hand from his. “I found these ointments in your pack, but I’m not sure what each is for. There aren’t labels.”
He took the first one in his left hand, studying the amber-colored glass that distorted the shade of the contents inside.
“The salve smells sweet.” She reached to remove the lid.
When he raised the jar to his nose, his entire countenance shifted. His eyes grew dark, almost stormy. His mouth pinched, his jaw stiffening. “Smells like the stuff Pa put on me when I burned our lodge down. Burned my feet trying to get out.” He handed the container back—almost throwing it at her.
“So it’s for burns.” That seemed almost too good to be possible. Yet his expression made it seem like not a good thing.
“That’s what we used the stuff for.” He’d closed his eyes again, shutting out the world. Or maybe just the memories.
Did she dare put the salve on his burns? She had to, if there was a chance the ointment would help. Maybe best to have him identify the other bottles first, so she knew what she had to work with.
The next jar she recognized. It was the salve he’d given them for the rash from the poison weed. She still showed it to him, just in case he remembered another use for it. With each container, he studied and smelled the contents. Two that contained liquid seemed a mystery to him. Another salve brought a possible memory of being used with an arrow wound.
By the time she handed him the last, he took only a whiff, then pushed it away. “I don’t know. They all make my head ache. No more.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll just use the first one to nurse your burns.”
He didn’t answer, so she reached for the sweet-smelling salve and scooped a small amount with her finger. Taking up his right hand, she dabbed the lotion onto the black section.
He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, and she lifted her finger off. The skin looked almost crimson. There were three small bubbles where the burn might be blistering. She’d seen burns before when her little brothers played too close to the cook stove. Some of them took weeks to heal, forming blisters that popped and oozed during the process.
Daniel seemed to relax, and she resumed the application. With the lightest of touches, she smoothed the cream in circles, moving it outward to the bright red skin.
Hopefully Daniel wouldn’t need to endure the kind of pain her brothers had endured. She should probably wrap the hand so it stayed clean, but she hadn’t brought extra fabric from the campsite, and the base of her skirts was far from clean. When they were back at the camp, she could find something.
After scooting down to his foot, she settled herself, then reached for his moccasin. “I’m going to take your shoe off.”
He didn’t answer, so she started at the lacing just below his knee. Removing this man’s footwear, even when her reasons were pure and noble and everything decent, seemed almost unthinkable. Yet if his injuries weren’t properly tended, he may not survive. And that thought was too awful to imagine—for so many reasons.
If he had a wife waiting somewhere, the woman would want her to make sure Daniel lived. The idea seemed to stabilize her emotions a bit. That’s all she had to do, think of a lovely, dark-skinned woman somewhere waiting anxiously for Daniel to return.
But it was hard to keep that image in her mind as the moccasin pulled away to reveal his angular foot and long, bony toes, fully masculine in every way. She’d seen Pa’s and her brothers’ feet, of course, but none had seemed so sturdy and muscular as his.
It’s just a foot.
She leaned sideways to get a better look at the bottom where his moccasin had been burned. His foot bore the same black mark as his hand, surrounded by a ring of red. The sight made her stomach churn again.
She dabbed on the salve, then smoothed it into his skin with the same light, circular motion she’d used before. The muscles in his ankle and foot tightened as she worked, and his toes curled.
But he never told her to stop. Never complained against the pain her ministrations clearly caused.
This man possessed more strength of will than anyone else she knew.
After finishing with his foot, she cradled the heel in her hands. “Are you burned anywhere else?”
He still lay with his eyes shut. “Don’t think so. The whole leg aches, but not like those places you touched.” That would make sense with her theory of the lightning moving from his hand through his body and down the leg to his foot.
She made quick work of lacing the moccasin back in place, then returned to her position by his head. “Can you eat more?”
“All right.”
He opened his eyes this time and fed himself as she handed him each bite of meat. The silence seemed to beg for words, yet she couldn’t think of anything to offer. She almost mentioned that they’d need to go hunting, but that would only worry him into pushing himself harder than would be good for his injuries.
Finally she settled for, “We need to move back to the camp soon. Are you up for trying?”
He chewed for another moment, then swallowed. His bobbing Adam’s apple pulled her gaze down to his throat. Such a sturdy nec
k he had, strong and brawny, with cords of muscles feeding down to the buckskin covering his shoulders.
“All right.”
She pulled her gaze back to his face, her mind scrambling to remember what he might be talking about as heat seared her own neck. She inhaled a steadying breath. “All right.”
For the rest of the time he ate, she looked up at the trees, examining the brown needles at the base of the cedar beside him. The brown changed to green after the first half-foot or so. Did the tree have some sort of disease that affected it from the base, working upward, or was that natural for a cedar? There weren’t others within sight that looked exactly like this species, so it was impossible to know for sure.
A movement by her side drew her focus back down, and she scrambled back as Daniel attempted to rise. “Here, let me help.”
She pushed to her feet and reached for his arm, helping him balance in a sitting position. He gripped his head with his injured hand, then grimaced and replaced it with his left.
He stayed in that position several minutes, and Noelle sent a plethora of prayers heavenward for his strength. Take his pain away, Lord. And help me get him back to camp. Please. He could rest better there, and she could tend him. Everything would be better once they made it to the camp.
Chapter Thirteen
Never would I have dreamed I’d find myself here...doing this.
~ Noelle
Noelle let Daniel try to stand on his own, but he almost toppled as he rose.
She stepped close to grab him. “You can lean on me.” After she propped herself under his arm, he seemed to take her at her word, leaning most of his weight on her, and she had to spread her feet to keep them both standing. When she finally braved a glance at his face, his eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw clenched so tight, she could see the muscles working even through the short layers of beard.
“Take your time.” She shifted a little so she could support him better. “Whenever you’re ready, we need to turn around.”
Griz appeared beside her and nuzzled Daniel’s leg. Where had the dog been these past hours? Maybe tracking down food. Hopefully. The more he hunted on his own, the less he’d need to partake of their meager rations.
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