“Here,” Rowena said, giving her a hand and then pulling back the blankets. “Climb in.”
Helen clambered onto the bed and pulled the blankets to her chin, realizing for the first time how cold she actually was. “Thank you,” she said, her teeth chattering.
“You poor thing. You’ll probably shiver all night. I’ll go warm a brick for your feet.”
As Rowena left the room, Helen heard Margaret call out, “And then you’ll come tell me what’s going on, right? I’m trying to behave myself and stay in bed, but I’m dying of curiosity.”
Rowena smirked. “Of course. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Helen snuggled down into the blankets, so glad to be out of the rain. She had a towel wrapped around her head and knew it would take a while for her hair to dry, but at least the rest of her was toasty, and her fingers no longer felt frozen into their cramped position. But Zeke . . . A shudder ran through her as she thought about him, a shudder that had nothing to do with being cold. A blow from a horse’s hoof could kill a man, and while he’d been alive when she left, she couldn’t know if he was still alive now. How long would it take Wynonna to get to town, and then how long would it take for the doctor to ride back? And when he got there, would there be anything he could actually do?
When Rowena came back with the heated brick and tucked it under the blankets next to Helen’s feet, Helen said, “What if Zeke dies?”
“Oh, Helen.” Rowena sat down on the bed next to her. “He won’t die. He can’t.”
“Yes, he can. And he might. And we couldn’t save him.” Helen pressed a hand to the side of her head. The anxiety building there was painful. “It was all so sudden. It was raining, but honestly, rain isn’t the worst thing in the world. I’ve been wet before and survived it.” She shuddered again as she realized her poor choice of words. “I . . . I mean, I didn’t think it would do any harm. I was wrong.”
“The men are on their way, and everyone’s doing everything they can,” Rowena said. “If there’s a possibility of saving him, he’ll be saved.”
Helen nodded. “I know they’ll do their best.”
“And in the meantime, we’ll do what we can here. I’ll keep some coffee going, and I’ll make sure there’s stew and bread. When the rain lets up a little, I’ll go tell the other girls what’s going on, and Fiona will help keep the food coming.”
“What about me? What’s my job?” Helen asked.
“You’ve already done your job. You delivered your message, and now it’s time for you to sleep.” Rowena stood up and pulled the blankets to Helen’s chin. “Let someone else be in charge for a little while. Get some rest.”
For once, letting someone else be in charge sounded wonderful. Helen closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, knowing she’d done all she could. She just wished it could be more.
***
Helen slept until sunlight broke through the window and fell on her face. She sat up with a start, confused and disoriented. Why wasn’t she in her own bed? Oh, that’s right. She was in Kansas now. But why wasn’t she in her usual Kansas bed? It took a moment for her to piece it all together, and then it flooded back. She pushed her blankets to the side, frantically trying to get up so she could find out what had happened while she was asleep.
Cora appeared in her doorway. “You’re supposed to stay in bed. Doctor’s orders.”
“Doctor . . . Does that mean he’s here?”
“Yes, he’s here, and so’s Zeke.” Cora held up a hand. “Lie back down and I’ll tell you everything.”
Helen didn’t want to lie down, but she’d obey if it meant getting an update. She scooted her pillows up so she could lean against the headboard. There—she was in bed, but not lounging around like an invalid. “There. Now, please tell me. What’s going on?”
Cora sat on the edge of the bed and tucked one leg beneath her. “Gallagher took some men, and they rode out last night to see what they could do.”
“I know that. I saw them leave.”
Cora held up a hand. “Let me tell the story my way, please. When they got there, Zeke was still unconscious, and Jack had been keeping pressure on the wound. It was finally clotting, but when they picked him up to put him in the wagon, it started to bleed again.”
Cora wouldn’t be going on like this if Zeke was dead, would she? She’d just get right to the heart of it. The fact that she was leading up to it—he had to be all right. Or maybe she was trying to break it to Helen gently, and this was her none-too-graceful way of doing it.
“Were they able to get it stopped again?” Helen asked, hoping to speed up this recitation.
“Once he was in the wagon and they weren’t moving him around anymore, yes, they were able to stop it,” Cora replied. “They decided to bring him here and get him warm instead of sitting tight and waiting for the doctor out there, so they came back and got him situated in Mike’s cabin. We’ll get all the rooms figured out—don’t worry about it.”
Room arrangements were the least of Helen’s concerns. She was just glad they’d put Zeke in the cabin—the bunkhouse was fine for a dozen healthy men, but for an invalid, a real bed was so much better.
“So, after they got him changed and put to bed, it was just a matter of waiting for the doctor, and then he came,” Cora said. “Wynonna was with him, and she’s still asleep too—poor thing was soaked to the bone, just like you were. Anyway, the doctor checked on Zeke and said there’s no way of knowing for sure at this point. The wound could heal and he could wake up with no difficulties, or we might find that he’s lost his memory.” She paused. “There’s a chance that he might still die. We just don’t know.”
Helen nodded. This news was about what she’d expected—they wouldn’t know anything for sure until he woke up, if he ever woke up. Even with all the skills the doctor possessed, he couldn’t control life or death.
“In the meantime, you and Wynonna are supposed to rest today, and Margaret says you can come climb in with her if you get to feeling isolated,” Cora went on. “The doctor is taking a nap in the bunkhouse, and he’ll be here until he feels things are as stable as he can make them. He said if he’d known this was going to happen, he would have just stayed out here yesterday.”
“I wish we’d known it was going to happen so we could have prevented it,” Helen replied.
“Well, of course. He was just making a joke.” Cora stood up. “Are you hungry? Rowena made some stew—I’ll bring you a tray.”
“Yes, please. If you don’t mind.” Helen had never eaten a meal in bed before. She’d heard it was the height of luxury, but at this point, she’d much prefer to be up and around, eating at the table as though nothing was wrong. At least the pain behind her eyes was gone. One less thing to worry about on a long list of things to worry about.
After she ate, she’d go back to sleep for a little while, trying to obey the doctor’s orders to rest. Then maybe she’d be allowed to get up and go check on Zeke. If she was there, she might be able to help in some way. Surely there had to be something—this helplessness was driving her mad.
Chapter Five
Pain like Zeke had never felt before shot through his head, and he groaned aloud. What was going on? Where was he? It was so dark.
“Zeke?” It was a man’s voice. “Zeke, this is Dr. Wayment. Can you hear me?”
“I can,” Zeke said after a moment. It had taken him that long to remember how to speak. It shouldn’t have been that hard.
“Good. You’ve been injured, and I want you to lie very still, all right? Please be careful not to move your head especially. Do you understand what I just told you? Can you repeat it back to me?”
Zeke licked his lips. He was so thirsty. “Um . . . don’t move.”
“Exactly. You have a head injury, and moving around will make everything hurt worse. I’ve covered your eyes with a bandage for now because you might find light painful. We’ll experiment with that in a little while, but for now, you’re to rest.”
&nb
sp; He licked his lips again. “Water?”
“Of course.”
A moment later, Zeke felt a hand slip behind his neck and slowly raise him up a few inches. A glass was pressed to his mouth, and he took several greedy sips before the water was taken away and he was lowered back to the pillow. He winced as he lay down again. His skull felt as fragile as a porcelain figurine.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We can talk about that later. For now, all you need to know is that everyone’s fine, all the animals are in the barn, and with the exception of thirty yards of yellow fabric that need to be laundered, everything made it back here safely.”
Zeke smiled faintly at the thought of all that material. “Helen?”
“She’s one of those people I just mentioned who turned out fine.” The doctor sounded amused. “I’m glad to see that your memory’s intact.”
“It’s hard to forget a person like Helen,” Zeke replied.
“I agree. Now, Fiona’s here with some broth for you. She’ll help you eat it. Take as much as you can, and then go back to sleep. When you wake up again, we’ll unwrap your eyes and make sure they aren’t sensitive to light. That will help us rule out another sort of brain injury, and then we’ll examine some other possibilities.”
“All right,” Zeke said, sensing that the doctor had stepped away from the bed. He wasn’t hungry, but if eating broth would help him heal, he’d do it. He’d do whatever it took to get rid of this horrendous pain and get back to doing his job—and to check on Helen. Until he saw her beautiful face, he wasn’t going to rest easy, even if he did take a nap.
***
Helen put the last pin in her hair and turned away from the mirror, feeling like herself at last. She’d taken a hot bath and scrubbed from head to toe, dried off quickly because she never wanted to be wet again, and dressed in her favorite blouse and skirt. Her muscles were still sore, but they were worlds better than they had been, and she felt as though she could put the whole ordeal behind her. Well, she could once she’d seen Zeke. She knew he was awake and doing well, but she couldn’t see him until the doctor was done examining him, and the wait was enough to drive her mad.
Needing something useful to do, she popped her head into Margaret’s room. Her friend was sitting up in bed, scowling at the knitting she held. “Hello,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s this yarn,” Margaret replied, holding up the mess in her hands. “It’s new from the store, so it should be all right, and it didn’t get wet, but it just keeps balling up on me.”
Helen sat on the chair next to the bed and took the yarn from Margaret. “Hmmm. This is definitely in a tangle,” she said as she tried to make sense of it.
“I’m probably too frazzled to be trying something so delicate.” Margaret leaned back on her pillows. “Have you been to see Zeke? Do you know how he is?”
“Dr. Wayment’s keeping him quiet for now, with no visitors. He said that with a head injury, too much stimulation could make matters worse.” Helen found one end of the yarn and began to follow it through the matted mess. “But he’s awake, so that’s something.”
Margaret smiled. “I wish I could go out and see him. I’ll just have to wait for him to come to me.” She paused. “Or I could get the men to rig me up a wagon to sit in. I could hitch up a little goat and drive it all over the ranch. Wouldn’t that be adorable?”
“A goat? Not a pony?”
“Well, a pony would work, but a goat would be cuter, and if I must be pulled around in a wagon, it might as well be by something cute.” Margaret sighed. “This is ridiculous. I’ve only been stuck in bed for a few days and I’m already losing my mind. What am I going to do with myself if this continues for months? I know it’s worth it—this child will be worth whatever it takes—but I’m terrible at being idle.”
“Dr. Wayment had said something about bringing some books out here for you,” Helen said. “And I don’t see anything wrong with letting you sit out on the porch from time to time. We could arrange some pillows out there and keep your feet elevated.”
“Oh, that would be nice.” Margaret looked toward the window. “Now that the storm has blown over, it looks like a lovely day.”
“It is lovely. I’m sure we can make you a nice little nest out there.”
“Maybe I should borrow some of Sully’s romance novels. And I can’t forget—I promised to give the men lessons.”
“Lessons? What sort of lessons?”
Margaret grinned. “I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I think you’ll find this charming. They want to learn how to be proper gentlemen—how to court a lady, in particular. We were all set to begin when I started having troubles, but there’s no reason why we can’t continue now.”
“They want to learn how to court?” Helen smiled and shook her head. “That is definitely charming, but is proper courting something that can be taught?”
“There are certain aspects of it that can be, and as for the rest—well, I think it’s a matter of learning to be aware of the lady’s thoughts and feelings. Some of that comes naturally, and some doesn’t. We’ll see who does the very best with this unusual course of study.” Margaret chuckled. “I understand that Jack might be ready to graduate without having taken a single class.”
“He and Wynonna are getting along rather well, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you wanted to smooth out any remaining rough edges.” Helen handed the yarn back to Margaret, now all neatly rolled into a bundle. “There you go.”
“Thank you. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.”
“I’ll be back in a little while, all right? I’m going to remind the doctor about his promise to bring you some books. And maybe I’ll get an update on Zeke while I’m at it.”
“Yes, books would be lovely. I’m not sure how many of Sully’s I could really stand.”
Helen stepped out onto the front porch and looked around. Yes, it would be easy to make a spot for Margaret out here. They’d just rearrange a couple of chairs—simple as it could be.
She turned when she heard men’s voices and saw Jack and Old Sully walking across the yard toward the house.
“That axle’s completely done for,” Sully was saying. “We’ll need to replace it and not just repair it this time.”
“So that puts us down two wagons for the time being,” Jack replied. “And the best person to handle it is laid up.”
“We’ll figure it out. We always do.” Sully looked up and caught sight of Helen. “And there she is, lookin’ fresh as a daisy. How do, Miss Helen?”
“I’m all right, Sully. Just getting my bearings after such a strange night.” She turned to Jack. “Is Wynonna still sleeping?”
“As far as I know, yes. I haven’t seen her today.” Jack clapped Sully on the shoulder. “Maybe you could help me out, Miss Helen. Sully here won’t stop blaming himself for what happened yesterday, and I think it’s making an old man out of him.”
“Oh, Sully. This wasn’t your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me—I goaded Zeke into leaving in the storm, and if I’d just held my tongue—”
Jack chuckled and shook his head. “And here I’ve been blamin’ myself for loadin’ the wagon too heavy. What’s next—is Wynonna feelin’ guilty too? It was an accident, pure and simple. No one meant for this to happen or caused it, and we’re doin’ nothin’ but wastin’ energy. The wagons will get fixed, Zeke will be all right, and in a month or two, we’ll have forgotten all about it. No more of this guilt talk, all right?”
Sully nodded. “Suppose you’re right. We should be concentratin’ on gettin’ our work done and buildin’ that cabin.”
“Zeke’ll enjoy gettin’ his hands dirty once he’s up and around,” Jack said. “The cabin will be just the thing to help him recover.”
Helen certainly hoped so.
She crossed the yard to Mike’s cabin and climbed the stairs to the porch, finding Wynonna and Fiona sitting in the front room when she opened the door.
“Wynonna, are you all right?” She gave her friend a hug. “I was so worried, sending you all the way to town in that storm.”
“And I was worried about sending you to the ranch without a saddle.” Wynonna motioned her toward a chair. “We all came through it, though—as doubtful as that seemed yesterday.”
“Your curtain fabric may never be the same, though,” Fiona commented. “I’ve got it soaking right now, but those mud streaks—they’re going to be tricky.”
“If the fabric is our only casualty, we’re truly blessed,” Helen replied. She leaned back in her chair and looked at her friends, feelings of gratitude overwhelming her. They were all safe, she was warm and dry, and the dozens of little things that had been irking her the day before now seemed so insignificant. She would try harder to be less critical about things—she could learn to soften her tongue. Perhaps this whole experience had been allowed just for her, to show her ways in which she could improve. It was a hard lesson, but she wasn’t the sort who picked up on hints and clues—she needed hard lessons in order to understand.
Dr. Wayment stepped out of the main bedroom and joined them. “How are you feeling today, Helen?”
“I’m all right, Doctor. Just a little tired. How’s Zeke?”
Dr. Wayment passed a hand over his face, smoothing down his mustache and then rubbing his eyes. “He’s doing much better than I expected. His memory seems to be perfectly intact—that was my first concern. He doesn’t have sensitivity to sound, which is another thing we look for in a head injury. In a few minutes, I’m going to remove the bandages from his eyes a layer at a time and test his sensitivity to light. He still has a bad headache, but after coming in contact with a hoof, that’s understandable.”
“That all sounds quite positive,” Fiona said. “Is he hungry yet? I know he’s only been eating because I told him to, not because he wants it.”
“He hasn’t said anything about it. Loss of hunger isn’t uncommon after a trauma—his appetite will return.”
Fiona nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Cooking is really the only thing I can do to help.”
A Handyman for Helen Page 5