Chapter 15

Cecil kept his arms crossed and his face blank, not wanting to worry the others. Walt had gone hunting. Bertie sat in his customary spot, holding his cats and rocking back and forth. Hazel seemed intent on keeping busy with Petey. Cecil had given up the pretense of being occupied with other things. Louise had dark shadows under her eyes. Several times, he’d seen her stumble. He put it down to fatigue because he couldn’t deal with the other possibility—that she was sick and doing her best to ignore it.

If only Joe would return. But Cecil began to suspect that Joe had fallen ill on the trail.

This helpless feeling made him grind his teeth back and forth. He welcomed the ache in his jaw from the pressure he exerted. If he saw Louise falter again, he’d ignore her order to stay away.

In the meantime—he sighed—the best thing he could do was keep busy. With three fires going, there was a constant need for wood, and he strode down the river to a grove he hadn’t already cleared of deadfall.

His arms full enough he couldn’t see his footing, he headed back to camp and dropped the wood, the crash drawing the attention of those who weren’t too weak to look.

The sound echoed. It took Cecil a second to realize it wasn’t an echo. It was a horse approaching. He reached for his rifle, ready for whatever it was.

“Hello.”

Recognizing Joe’s voice, he put the rifle aside.

The scout rode in. He gave a quick glance to the camps as if counting people, maybe assessing if any more had grown ill, and then he rode toward the fire where Louise tended the sick. “Brought something that might help.” He handed her a leather pouch. “Boil this and then have them drink small amounts until they’ve had a couple of cups each.”

Louise set to work.

Joe dismounted and looked at Hazel. “You and Little Warrior didn’t get sick?”

“We’re fine.”

“I’ll take care of my horse, and then I’ll have some of that.” He nodded toward the cooking pot.

Hazel put Petey down, handed him his ball, and told him to stay there before she crossed to the fire, lifted the lid, and stirred the stew.

Cecil cocked his head. Was she humming?

Of course, she was relieved to think Joe’s remedy might make her mother better.

By the time Joe returned, Louise had his concoction simmering. While the others ate, she served the cooled mixture to each of those who were ill. She continued to ply them with the drink throughout the day. By evening, Pa was sitting up and asking for food.

Louise said only broth and tea to begin with.

“Thank You, God,” Cecil said.

Walt had returned and said, “Amen to that.”

Cecil allowed himself only two hours of sleep that night. He took his turn watching the camp, made sure Louise had plenty of firewood and watched her urging the ladies to drink the herbal tea.

By morning, Irene was allowed broth. By midmorning, Angela and Ruby were as well.

“Marnie?” he whispered as he handed breakfast to Louise. He glanced toward Bertie, hoping he couldn’t hear.

“No change.” Louise’s voice shook.

Ignoring her order to stay away, to avoid contact, he squeezed her shoulder.

The way she sank into his embrace he knew she was at the end of her strength.

“You can’t keep this up much longer. Let me help.”

She sighed, but before she could voice her protest, he continued. “I’m thinking if I’m not sick by now, I’m not going to be. I can boil water and make tea. Whatever needs to be done.”

The fact that she remained limp in his arms said all he needed to know. He led her to her bedroll, which she’d used infrequently these past days, and eased her down, pulling a quilt around her shoulders. She was asleep before he stepped away, but he lingered, studying her. At rest, her face lost the worry she’d carried since Marnie got sick. It would be nice if she slept long enough for the dark shadows under her eyes to disappear.

Now, to take over her work. He stirred the coals, added another log, heated the broth Hazel made, and took some to the Woods sisters and Pa. He sank to the ground beside his pa.

“Good to see you feeling better.”

Pa swallowed his mouthful of broth. His gaze stayed with Marnie. “She’s not better.”

“Maybe she is. When was the last time she was gripped with cramps?”

A twitch ran across Pa’s shoulders. “Are you saying she’s over it?”

Cecil didn’t want to give Pa false hope when Marnie lay as still as a stone, her back to them.

“Marnie,” Pa whispered, reaching toward her but not touching her as if he was afraid of what he’d discover.

She gulped in a shuddering breath of air, then turned, painfully slow, to face Pa. A smile flitted across her face, and then she slept.

Surely that was a good sign. It meant she was getting better, or did it mean?—

He wouldn’t allow himself to finish the thought. Instead, he gathered up the now-empty cups from everyone and set them into the hot water to soak as he’d seen Louise do. After that, there was little to do, and not wanting to disturb Louise by making any noise, he sat on a log stool by the fire.

“Well?”

Walt’s voice jarred him from staring at the red coals.

“Well, what?”

“How is it you’re over there when Louise forbade any of us to cross the line.” He dragged the toe of his boot along an imaginary line.

“She needed rest. ’Ppears to me that everyone is over the worst.” Even Pa fell asleep after he finished his broth.

“Then I should be able to get Irene.”

Cecil shrugged. “It’s not up to me. When Louise wakens, you can ask her.”

Walt studied Louise, grunted, and stalked away.

Louise slept until past noon and woke with a startled cry as Hazel dropped a lid on a pot.

“Everything is fine,” Cecil soothed. And yes, those dark shadows under her eyes had faded.

She shook her head as if trying to rid herself of lingering sleep, then hurried to her patients. Irene and the other ladies sat up, visiting among themselves. Pa sat beside Marnie, who slept.

Louise knelt beside Marnie. “How is she?” she whispered to Pa.

“Better, I think. But so weak.”

“She’ll soon regain her strength.” Louise lifted her face to the sky and gave a soft laugh. “Thank You, God.”

“Can I see Irene?” Walt called, having moved close as soon as he heard Louise’s voice.

Louise looked toward the sisters, a thoughtful expression on her face. “If things continue to improve, everyone can go back to their usual places in the morning.”

Walt’s grunt didn’t sound thankful, but then Cecil could hardly blame him. Those days and hours of sitting by the fire with Hazel while Louise managed on her own were the hardest he could remember. Now that the danger seemed past, he would admit how fearful he was that Louise would succumb. That any of them should die.

But having crossed the line to join Louise’s camp, he had no intention of leaving again.

That night, he slept more soundly than he had since the illness had fallen upon them. Though for only a few hours.

He woke in the dark, prepared to take his turn on watch, and saw Louise sitting by the fire. He joined her. “Have you been awake long?”

“I checked everyone. It’s wonderful to see them all sleeping.” She yawned.

“You should be sleeping too. I’m going to take over for Joe, but first, I want to see you back in your bed.”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted and grinned as she stood.

He raised a finger, brought it to his lips, and winked. Would she get his message? That he’d like to kiss her again? Tell her how he felt?

Her gaze followed the movement of his finger. She swallowed visibly. Drew in a deep breath and then turned away.

“Louise—?”

“You better go do your job, and I’ll get more sleep.”

For the space of three breaths, he didn’t move. And then, with a frustrated grunt, he strode into the dark.

“Hi, Joe,” he murmured to the shadowy figure. “Go get some sleep.”

“Everyone doing well?”

He must mean those who had been sick. To that, Cecil could say, “Yes.” But he couldn’t say it on his behalf.

Why did Louise shy away from him? Was it because she was tired? Worried about the illness?

Or was she that offended by his kiss?

He stomped back the urge to yell a protest. He’d kissed her because he’d grown fond of her. Somehow, he meant to prove it to her. If she’d let him.

Louise crawled into her bedroll.

Cecil’s footsteps faded as he went to check on the animals. The way he’d touched his lips reminded her of their kiss. Was it intentional? Why would he do that? It went against how she viewed him as honorable and honest and kind and?—

Why would he toy with her when he and Hazel belonged together? If she’d harbored any hope that she was mistaken about them, the way they’d clung to each other while at their campsite waiting for the others to recover had taken away that possibility.

She would not allow her own feelings to interfere with her friend’s chance to remarry and have a husband for herself and a father for Petey. Yes, she was attracted to Cecil, but she didn’t have to follow that attraction. Long ago, she’d learned to put duty ahead of desire. Obedience ahead of wishes.

But as she turned to her side and wished for sleep, the longings would not be driven away. “Lord, keep me faithful and true to what I know is right.”

The crackle of fire woke her before the sky began to lighten. Sparks flew upward, half hiding Cecil on the far side of the flames. Her breath rushed in, warming her heart, making it impossible to ignore the truth of her feelings.

She cared for that man far more than she had a right to.

Work was one way to keep those thoughts at bay. She scrambled to her feet, brushed her hair into place, and made a quick trip to the bushes. Then she checked on Marnie. She rested quietly.

“How is she?” Cecil whispered.

Louise joined him at the fire so they wouldn’t disturb the others. “The good news is she hasn’t been gripped with any more cramps.”

Walt was awake watching them. She could feel his impatience. But she didn’t mean to wake Irene.

Cecil perched on the stool closest to Louise. “What’s the bad news?”

“She’s very weak.”

Dawn crept up from the eastern sky.

“How is everyone?” Joe stood next to Walt.

“I believe everyone is on the mend, but I’m concerned that Marnie is too weak to handle travel.”

“We need to talk.” Joe signaled them to join him.

“I’ll be part of any discussion.” Gabe slipped away from Marnie’s side.

The four men and Louise moved away so they wouldn’t disturb those still sleeping.

“How soon before we can move on?” Joe’s calm tone did not hide the fact he was concerned about the delay.

No more so than the rest of them. Louise included herself. But she had to be honest. “I believe everyone else is ready to travel so long as the pace is slow. Gabe should ride for a few days.” She ignored the collective sigh of relief. “But I fear traveling might be too strenuous for Marnie.” However, staying here carried the risk of others getting sick. She didn’t share that information.

Gabe jerked around to study his sleeping wife. “She would not want us to delay on her account.” He regarded his two sons. “I’d suggest you go ahead and leave us here, then—” He didn’t even get a chance to finish before Walt spoke up.

“We stay together,” he said.

“I agree,” Cecil added.

“Me too.” Irene slipped to Walt’s side. “Ma wouldn’t hear of it either.”

From the shadows came a weak voice. “Gabe, I’ll ride in the wagon.”

“Then it’s settled,” Gabe spoke firmly, but he didn’t manage to disguise the slight tremor in his voice. His footsteps were measured as he returned to Marnie’s side.

Louise left her to his gentle care. The other women were up, and having heard they were to travel today, they helped with camp chores. They moved slower than usual but were well enough to eat a hearty breakfast. Louise’s role of a nurse was no longer needed.

“I thank God,” she said loudly enough for even Hazel to hear, “that everyone is well again.”

“Amen to that.” Cecil squeezed her shoulder. “And thanks to you for taking care of them.”

His touch brought a sting of tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back. It was only because of gratitude tinged with fatigue that she was feeling weepy.

People gathered around the campfire. Gabe escorted Marnie to a stool, a firm grip around her waist.

Bertie sat close enough to press to her side. “Mama, you better?”

“Yes, son. I’m getting better.”

“I glad.” Bertie’s voice carried unshed tears.

As soon as Marnie settled, Gabe signaled to the others. “I have an announcement to make. We missed Sunday because of this sickness, but Marnie and I want to have a service of thanksgiving and gratitude for God’s goodness in healing us all.”

A murmur of agreement rose.

They followed their usual routine of getting the oxen hitched up and having breakfast before they gathered together. Gabe was feeling well enough to play his guitar as they sang. Marnie sat close to him, her face pale.

Hazel wiped away a tear and whispered to Louise. “She’s so weak she isn’t singing with Gabe.”

Louise understood the significance as much as Hazel did. Gabe and Marnie loved to sing together. She squeezed Hazel’s hand and whispered back. “She’s on the mend.”

Cecil rose, Gabe’s Bible in hand. “Pa has granted me the privilege of reading the Scripture today.”

Gabe must’ve allowed it because he wasn’t as strong as he’d thought.

Cecil continued. “We’ve encountered some challenges these past few days between the flooding of the river and the illness that gripped some of us. But God is faithful.” He opened the worn pages. “I’d like to read Psalm 139 as a reminder of God’s constant care and presence. ‘Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off…Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me.’”

To her utter shame, Louise clung to the words he read, finding as much encouragement from hearing his voice as from hearing the verses. Until he read:

“‘Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’”

Those words stabbed her heart so hard she leaned over her knees to stop a moan from escaping.

Thankfully, no one noticed.

She tried to excuse her feelings toward Cecil as appreciation for how he’d made sure she was all right while she tended to the sick. Or as sharing similar concerns. Or even as fellow travelers. But God’s word demanded truth. She cared for him much more than that. More than she should. Closing her eyes did not erase the dreams that flooded her mind. Sharing life and family with him. Striking out together to conquer new lands and new opportunities.

Gabe closed in prayer.

Louise added her own prayer for strength. And a reminder to herself of her intention of being a nurse in the West. Nothing else. Nothing more.

If she rushed about afterward with more vigor than normal, helping arrange luggage and assisting those weakened by sickness to comfortable positions, hopefully, no one noticed.

Marnie rode in the back of the wagon she shared with Gabe, and he rode on the bench with Cecil walking beside the oxen to guide them. Louise sat next to Gabe. After all, she needed to be able to watch Marnie. Or so she could tell herself.

Irene rode beside Walt in the middle wagon while Angela drove the lead wagon with Hazel and Ruby riding in the back entertaining Petey.

They left behind the campsite where they’d been delayed for so many days.

Louise looked across the river where she’d enjoyed a few short, forbidden days in Cecil’s company. When she could no longer see it, she faced forward, her gaze slightly to her right so Cecil wasn’t constantly in her sight.

But how was she to get him out of her heart?