Chapter 3

Between them, Cecil and Petey tackled Hazel’s uneaten breakfast.

“No point in letting food go to waste, is there, young fella?”

Petey opened his mouth for the last morsel as Louise rejoined them.

She stood close to the fire, Petey’s clothes clutched in her hands and stared at something in the distance. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Cecil sat up straight. Was something wrong? He glanced over his shoulder. Was it Hazel? Was it something rest wouldn’t fix?

“What’s worrying you?” he asked.

She twitched as if his question distracted her. Then slowly came round to face him. “Hazel. I thought if she ate, had some coffee…” Her voice trailed off. “But she had neither.”

Pushing to his feet, Cecil looked toward the wagon where Hazel slept on the floor. At least, he assumed she was asleep.

“Maybe she just needs to rest. My grandmother wouldn’t eat if she was too tired.”

“Let’s hope that’s all it is.” Her tone suggested she thought otherwise.

“Why would you think it’s not? You’ve never struck me as a worrier.”

One shoulder came up. A flashing smile held no amusement. “I suppose because it’s Hazel. I’m a little protective of her.”

“I’ve seen that. You’re very fond of her.”

The smile reached her eyes. “We’ve been friends since school. I?—”

“You’ve—?” He prompted when she seemed disinclined to finish.

“Let’s just say we’ve been through a lot together.”

“I’m guessing you mean the loss of her husband and then having a baby on her own.”

When Louise plunked down on one of the log stools, he did the same.

“It goes back much further. Our friendship,” she added, in case he wasn’t following the conversation. “My mother passed away when I was fourteen. I had two younger brothers who needed me to take care of them. Eddie was twelve and good friends with Carson Woods. Hazel’s brother, you know?”

“Yes, I know Carson.” Mostly through correspondence, as he hadn’t seen the man since he was a toddler.

“Of course. Anyway, when she heard how things were, she came to visit me and offered to help.”

Hearing the thickness in her voice, Cecil avoided looking directly at her, not wanting to embarrass either of them.

“At that point, I was dealing with my own sorrow while trying to help my brothers, hoping my pa would show up for us all.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I was feeling overwhelmed by the household responsibilities. At first, I thought of dropping out of school. But I had decided to be a nurse, so I had to continue.”

“It sounds like quite a load.” What else could he say?

“Hazel’s encouragement meant a lot.”

“She’s now got her load to carry, and you help her.”

Louise’s shoulders rose and fell through another long breath. “I try. But—” Her gaze went to the wagon where Hazel slept. Louise shook her head. “I brought dry clothes for Petey.” She plucked the baby from his perch. “How does that sound to you, young man?”

Petey babbled a reply and lifted his arms as she eased the shirt over his head. In a few minutes, he was in dry clothes from his feet to his neck with a warm sweater over top. She patted his hair into place and looked around, a question in her eyes. “I’d like to keep him dry.”

His mama needed her rest, so the little one couldn’t play in the wagon. The ground was wet and would be so until they’d had a few hours of warm sun.

“Why don’t we take him for a walk?” Cecil tipped his head to indicate the tracks the wagons had packed down. The water had run off, leaving them relatively dry.

“That’s a good idea.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been known to have a few.”

“I didn’t mean otherwise. But first, I’d like to put some meat on to simmer. I was going to make beef-barley soup for the noon meal. I hope it’s something Hazel will enjoy.” With Petey perched on one hip, she pulled a large cooking pot from where it hung on the side of the wagon.

“You’ll need water. I’ll get it. See another good idea.” He laughed to let her know he held no rancor. Besides, he didn’t mind a little teasing. He filled the pot at the river, then put it over the fire.

She tossed in the dried meat, then stepped to the trail, putting Petey down where it was dry, holding on to his hand to keep him from running free.

Cecil joined them, taking Petey’s other hand.

For several steps, they walked in silence, apart from Petey’s singsongy happiness.

Cecil finally broke the silence. “I didn’t realize your mother had passed on.” If it had come up in conversation, it had been when he wasn’t around. After all, he spent much of his time riding ahead, scouting, or taking his turn on watch.

“No reason you should.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ve all had our losses.” Her response was gentle.

“True. And yet we head into the future with hope and faith.”

Louise glanced over her shoulder. “Will they wait for us or move on and hope we catch up?”

“They’ll wait.”

“You sound very certain.”

“I am. My pa isn’t going to leave me behind.” He did his best to sound prideful.

“Thinks that much of you, does he?” Her amusement bubbled out.

“Yup. Of course, he does.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Seriously, they’d never leave Hazel and the baby behind.”

She chortled. “Kind of makes us secondary, doesn’t it?”

“A little, I suppose.” They swung Petey over a puddle, then let him resume walking between them. “Does it bother you?”

They took two more steps before she answered. “Honestly, I only care that Hazel remains strong and healthy so she can start over again in the West. No, that’s not it entirely. I’m also looking forward to starting over.”

“As nurse?” She’d made no secret of her plans.

“Yes and—” She stopped. Looked to the nearby trees as if they were all she cared about.

What else had she started to say? Whatever it was, she didn’t seem inclined to continue. He let it go. “You raised two younger brothers?”

His question brought a smile back to her face. “I might have been in charge of meals and housecleaning, but the three of us became a team.”

“Where was your father?”

“Working.” Her short answer said far more than the word did.

“He wasn’t home?”

“Not much. When he was, he was kind, so don’t think otherwise.”

Seems she was a mite defensive. “I wasn’t. Where are your brothers now?”

“They both work for a ranch. Sammy joined Eddie when he was fifteen.”

“That must have been hard for you. Having them leave.”

“Sammy was ready. And it left me free to start my nurse’s training.”

He studied her. She looked past him even though she had to be aware of his interest. He didn’t turn away until she met his gaze.

“What?” she said.

“Did you ever think of going where they are?” Wouldn’t it have made sense after the three of them being as close as she made it sound?

“No. Well, maybe. But Eddie recently got married, and Sammy has a young woman that I expect he’ll marry.”

“So, they no longer need you? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s the way things are meant to be. We grow up and move on. Unless—” She looked back.

He guessed she looked across the river to the other wagons and their fellow travelers and to Hazel’s older brother, who accompanied them. A brother who had been born normal, but after fever and infection, he was now stuck in childhood: a man’s body but a child’s mind.

“Unless you’re like Bertie,” he finished for her.

“Hazel wouldn’t thank us for this conversation.” She pressed her lips together, signaling it was over.

Petey jerked free of their hands and trotted toward the trees.

They followed. The grass on top of the hill was relatively dry, but as they neared the trees, it grew wetter. Cecil scooped up Petey and put him on his shoulders.

“We should get back.” Louise walked by his side as they returned.

They paused at the wagon. Hazel still slept. Cecil amused Petey, keeping him out of wet grass while Louise tended to the pot of soup. Her movements were quick like it was something she’d done many times.

Since she was fourteen and likely before that. He pictured her helping her mother.

“Louise, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your ma?”

Louise had been addingspices to the pot, but her hands froze midair. Cecil’s question opened a door she’d closed after Mama’s passing and seldom opened. Most of her friends and acquaintances knew the story without her relaying it. “Matron at the hospital is the only one who asked me that question.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude.”

“I suppose it’s normal enough to wonder.” She finished putting the ingredients in the pot, dusted her hands off, and twined her fingers together. “Mama delivered a baby. Things didn’t go well. Both of them died.” The words jerked from her throat.

“I’m so sorry.”

Now that she’d started, she had to finish. “They were buried in the same grave.” A lump crept up her throat. “I named the baby Sharon. I held her…” She sucked in air that did nothing to relieve a suffocating sensation. “I held her as she stopped breathing. She had her eyes open, looking at me. She was too early. And then—” She couldn’t continue and stirred the soup to disguise her struggle. “And then—” A whisper was all she could manage. “Then Mama died, too.”

“Oh, Louise.” He rose and took a step closer.

Perhaps he meant to pat her arm. She waved him away. Her feelings were too raw. Too fragile. One touch and she’d shatter.

“Mama didn’t die right away. She got sick. Fevered. I remember her calling out, saying things that made no sense. I was helpless to do anything. That’s when I knew I wanted to be a nurse. I would help people get better. I would bathe wee babies and help them live.”

Cecil settled back. “And take care of ailing friends.”

They both looked toward the wagon. Hazel hadn’t stirred. Could she still be sleeping? Or?—?

Louise hurried over and released her trapped breath when she saw Hazel’s chest rise and fall.

Cecil followed, bringing Petey. “Isn’t it good that she’s resting? With my grandma—I’m sorry. I know it isn’t the same.”

“Rest is good.” But that niggling feeling that things weren’t normal wouldn’t leave Louise as she returned to the fire to finish making the soup. Her insides felt raw. Was she missing something? Or was the reminder of Mama’s death unsettling her? Of course, it was. But how was she to get back her equilibrium? Maybe if she asked Cecil about his life, he wouldn’t ask any more questions about hers. “I know you were raised by your grandparents?—”

“And Pa. He was there as much as he could be. And always good to us. He encouraged me to try my hand at blacksmithing.”

“That’s nice.” She’d have to be careful not to talk like Mr. Miller had been like her pa. Absent a good deal of the time and was distant when he was there. He’d never gotten over the death of his wife. “I’m sorry you lost them.”

“Thanks. But both had grown old and weary and assured us they were ready to go.” He chuckled. “Grandmother often told me that she’d done her best to raise me to be a good man, and now it was up to me to honor that.”

He sounded so amused that she stared at him. “Does it make you feel beholding?”

Another soft, warming chuckle. “Not in the least. Our grandparents gave us a good life.” He leaned back, his gaze at the sky. His whole face smiled. “They’d approve of our decision to move West.”

“You seemed pleased with the thought.”

“I am. We leave behind our loved ones who have passed on, and together, we begin a new adventure.” He sat up and met her gaze. His eyes narrowed.

Her face warmed and not from the hot flames. She’d been admiring him, but she hadn’t meant for him to see it. She bent over the simmering pot.

“I can understand it’s harder for you having to leave your brothers.”

“Maybe one day they’ll move West.” Or she could return East if she wanted. She didn’t. Never before had she realized that. “I will miss my brothers, but, well, what I miss is being the one to take care of them. They no longer need that.”

“So, you’re looking for someone else to need you?”

She jerked upright. “That makes me sound needy. Like—” Like she wanted people to be sick or injured so she could tend them. She waved the spoon in the air, not caring for the way her insides rebelled. “Is it so wrong to want to be useful? To make a difference in people’s lives?” Her words were sharp, and she clamped her lips together.

“Not at all.”

“The soup is about ready. I’m going to get Hazel.”

“I’ll watch Petey. Louise?”

A part of her wanted to rush on, not giving him a chance to explain, but a more demanding part needed to hear what he had to say. She slowed.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. You will find people everywhere who need a nurse. And isn’t that why you became one? And doesn’t caring make you a good nurse?”

All she could manage was a nod.

At the wagon, she touched Hazel. “Wake up. It’s time to eat.”

Nothing. Not so much as a groan.

“Hazel.” She shook her friend’s legs. Still nothing. Her heart squeezed out a painful beat. “Hazel.” She spoke louder, more demanding.

“What is it?” Cecil joined her at the wagon.

“She doesn’t wake up.”