Chapter 7

Louise lay motionless in her bedroll. Wood thudded. Flames flared, sending bright flashes across the tent wall. Cecil was up and about. Had she really said those things to him in the night? It was only because it was dark, and she was half asleep, but still?—

The words echoed in her head.

I enjoyed spending the day with you.

“Lord, help him not to take that the wrong way.” She felt like she needed to explain to God that she only meant he was good company. Nothing more. Anyone with eyes could see that he and Hazel belonged together. Louise had no intention of interfering.

The wilted bouquet lay by her head. She trailed her fingertip along the fragile red petals of columbines and the rough center of brown-eyed Susans. He’d added three sprigs of sage. That scent filled her nostrils throughout the night. She pressed the flowers to her nose. What did he mean by leaving them? The unexpected kindness seeped a pleasant feeling into her very pores.

Not that she’d let it make her do anything foolish, like let it mean more than a sweet act from a sweet man.

A groan started in her throat, but she held it back. He was a good, kind man. A perfect mate for Hazel.

She might have lain in bed all morning except nature called, and she hurriedly dressed, finger combed her hair back and braided it, securing it with a length of ribbon that was worn to threads.

Without looking Cecil’s direction, she hurried to the trees. Upon her return, she went to Hazel. Her friend smiled at her, her eyes clear.

“How are you feeling?” The signs suggested she’d improved a great deal.

Hazel yawned. “Tired but glad to be alive.”

Louise’s smile hid a shudder. Several times after Peter’s death, Hazel had wondered why she was still alive. Saying she had nothing to live for. That changed once she felt the baby move.

Petey sat at his mother’s head, playing with a string of buttons and singing a wordless song.

Louise helped them both dress for the day. She held Hazel’s arm as they made their way to the nearby bushes and stood back as Hazel crossed to the fire unassisted, Petey toddling at her side.

Only then did Louise look at the swollen river. Her lips puffed out. Good. The water hadn’t risen further. On the opposite side, the others gathered around the campfire. Smoke, laden with the aroma of coffee, beans, and bacon, drifted toward them. The rumble of her stomach turned her attention back to the fire and breakfast preparations.

While Hazel perched on the log, amusing Petey, Louise ground coffee, and Cecil tended the coffeepot, hovering over it as if he could force it to boil faster.

She ducked her head to hide her amusement and gathered together the makings for cornbread.

As soon as the coffee sputtered, Cecil removed the pot with a gloved hand and filled three mugs, handing them out. He sucked back the hot brew and sighed expansively.

Louise hid another grin as the man blossomed like a sun-kissed flower. Life flowed into his eyes. Humor to his mouth. “You surely do like your morning coffee.”

“I surely do. Like Grandpa often said, coffee is the best way to start the morning.”

She refrained from pointing out that it was possible to function without the drink. Instead, without stopping to think before she spoke, she said, “I wish someone would look at me the way you look at your coffee.”

He sputtered his mouthful into the air as he burst out laughing.

Overcome with embarrassment, she ducked her head and pretended to be extremely busy putting the cornbread mixture into the Dutch oven.

The quietness that followed made her nerves twitch. If only she could pull the words back.

He edged closer. “Maybe someone will.” His words were soft…inviting.

She dared not look at him to see if he meant to be more than encouraging. Or maybe he was trying to be amusing. Yes. She’d go with amusing.

“Only if I’m bringing them a cup of morning coffee or something for pain.” Her chuckle sounded flat, but maybe he’d think it mirthful. Steeling herself, she looked at him with a wide smile.

He regarded her soberly, making her lips feel even more wooden than they were. He leaned closer. “Did I hear you say something last night just before I fell asleep?”

Please, please don’t let him have heard the words I shouldn’t have spoken.Swallowing hard, gathering up every fragment of self-control, she nodded. “I said I was glad you hadn’t been sprayed by the skunk.”

“Right.”

“Hazel,” she called. “We had a skunk visit last night.”

Hazel looked at them. “Really? Did anyone get sprayed?”

Louise indicated Cecil should answer and turned her attention back to watching the breakfast cook. It certainly was taking its sweet time.

While Cecil gave Hazel the details, Louise hurried to the wagon for syrup and jam. The cornbread was finally done, and she cut generous portions for each of them and bowed her head as Cecil asked the blessing.

“Lord,” she murmured under her breath. “Help me do what’s right and good.” She didn’t need to explain because God knew she meant she must not get in the way of the developing feelings between Hazel and Cecil.

The cornbread was tasty and even tastier drowned in syrup.

“That was good. Thank you.” Hazel had eaten every bit from her plate. “I do believe I am feeling much better today.”

“That’s great news.” Louise took the empty plate. “But don’t overdo it.”

“I can at least help with dishes.” Hazel rose, clattered Cecil’s empty plate together with Petey’s, and dipped them into the hot water.

Cecil pushed to his feet. “Ladies, we’re going to need more firewood.” He looked toward the river, still in full flood. “I’ll see to it.” He retrieved an ax from the wagon and strode into the woods.

The crunch of fallen leaves and the crack of breaking wood signaled his progress.

“Watch out for skunks,” Louise called.

His laughter rang out in answer.

Chuckling, she stuck her hands in the hot water, wishing it would sear the foolishness that had her continually saying things she shouldn’t. One by one, she handed the scrubbed dishes to Hazel to dry. Soon, the place was clean, dishes put away, and beans set to cook. They wouldn’t be ready by noon. For that meal, they’d have the leftover stew from last night.

“Do you mind if I rest?” Hazel’s words were slow, heavy.

“Of course not. I’ll watch Petey.”

“That’s not necessary. He can play in the wagon where I can take care of him.”

Louise studied the other woman. Would she be alert enough to tend the boy? But she’d always made sure her son was safe. It would do her good to have something that forced her to stay awake. Besides, Louise would hear if anything happened.

She walked with Hazel back to the wagon and let her lift in Petey. Good, she was strong enough to do that. Hazel sat on the floor, Petey beside her, amused by the string of buttons.

Louise wandered in a wide circle around the fire, alone except for her thoughts.

The crack of an ax striking wood came from the woods. “God, thank You for leaving Cecil with us. I feel safe with him here.”

She’d bake cookies if they had the oven. But they didn’t. She’d have to make do. Though she had no idea of what she would bake.

Marnie, Hazel’s ma, had always planned the meals on this trip. She was the expert at preparing food for them, although they all helped. What would she make if she was with them?

This was like when Mama died, and suddenly, Louise had to prepare every meal. She’d known how to cook, but the challenge of planning meal after meal had been?—

The crash of falling wood nearby jerked her from her thoughts. She spun around. Cecil dusted off his hands, a pile of logs at his feet.

“You seemed lost in thought.”

“I suppose I was.”

“Anything to do with present circumstances?” He poured a cup of the thick coffee and sipped on it with no concern about how long it had sat.

“No. Well, yes, I suppose.”

Dark eyes held hers.

She tried to free herself from his study but couldn’t.

“How so?” he asked.

“It’s both. I was thinking I’d like to make cookies.” She shrugged one shoulder to indicate it wasn’t important. “It reminded me of when I was in charge of every meal.” Did she sound as scattered as she felt? She snorted—a sound that she meant to be amusement but might have been regret. “All of a sudden, I had to plan meals. Make sure there were enough supplies for days at a time, preserve food for future use. It’s one thing to know how and quite another to be in charge.”

He emptied his cup and set it down. “I’m sure you did it with grace and dignity.”

She blinked several times. Opened her mouth and closed it again without speaking a word. Had he paid her a compliment? Why hadn’t he said she’d been efficient? That was what she strove for. But grace? And dignity? It made her sound…well, like…like…

Like not her.

“I did my best.” Weak words, but she had none to express her thoughts…her confused, awkward thoughts.

“How’s the water level?” He looked toward the river.

“Going down, I believe.” Nice to be able to change the subject.

With a tip of his head, he signaled her to walk with him to the bank.

“It’s gone down a foot.” He pointed to the bush and explained where the water had been yesterday.

“I measured it by those rocks.” She indicated the small boulders lining the bank. “Yesterday, there were only three exposed. Today, there are four.”

They studied the turgid water roaring past.

“Be a couple of days yet.” He waved to his pa on the other side.

She waved to Bertie, who stood beside Gabe, his pet goat pressed to one side, his dog, Limpy, at his other side, and the two cats in his arms.

Petey’s happy laugh, and Hazel’s quiet words pulled their attention to the wagon.

“She seems much better today, don’t you think?” Uncertainty edged Cecil’s words.

Louise wanted to reassure him. “Definitely. She’ll soon be taking care of us both.” Whoops. She didn’t mean to make it sound like she thought Hazel was bossy. Or anything like that.

His chuckle rippled through her. “Say. Seeing as you don’t need to watch over her, why don’t you come with me to get more wood?”

“I’d love to. Thank you.” The words were out of her mouth before she remembered that she should be doing something to get him and Hazel together. Well, it wasn’t her fault Hazel was too tired.

“Come on, then.”

She paused long enough to tell Hazel of her plans. Hazel waved her off as if she didn’t care that Louise meant to spend time with Cecil. Well, if that was the case, it left Louise free to enjoy herself.

The grass sighed under her feet as she walked at his side. A gentle breeze carried the scent of damp earth. The deciduous trees were green and fragrant from the recent rain. Cecil reached back to help her over a moss-covered fallen log. His hand was firm. Solid. Someone a person could count on.

Tall grass tangled at their feet, and he retained her hand.

“Wouldn’t want you to trip.”

She accepted his reasoning a little too readily.

They reached a clearing. The dappled sunshine bounced off the leaves and pooled in the grass at their feet.

“There’s lots of deadfall here.” He released her hand and stepped away.

A chill raced up from her fingers, and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

“Listen.” He cocked his head toward the overhead branches.

She heard what he meant. The chirp chirp of baby birds. She searched for the source until she saw the nest and four tiny heads.

Cecil had seen it, too, and they watched as the adult birds hovered overhead.

“They aren’t very old,” Louise murmured. “They only have rough feathers.”

“I don’t like to disturb them. Let’s move away.” He reached again for her hand as if to make certain she came along.

She didn’t care what his reason was. A gurgle of laughter escaped her while they hurried away to the far side of the clearing. It took no effort to forget about Hazel and enjoy this moment.

Cecil was slightlyshort of breath as they dashed across the grass. Louise’s laughter seemed equally breathless. Only because the grass caught at their feet and forced them to make more of an effort than a normal walk required. It had nothing to do with anticipation or excitement. No, he wouldn’t admit to that.

Though—he allowed himself—he might be looking forward to spending time with her because she’d proven to be good company. He might be eager to learn more about her. She’d had a hard life. Seemed it had been full of work and responsibility, and yet she retained a sense of humor. He liked that.

“Let’s sit.” There was lots of time to gather wood. Right now, he wanted to enjoy the moment with Louise, whom he was finding more and more intriguing with every hour they spent together. She was easy to be around. Now, that made her sound like an old, worn, comfortable pair of socks, which was not at all what he had in mind.

“Tell me how you managed schooling on top of taking care of your brothers.” It seemed a difficult task.

“My teachers were kind to me. They helped me a lot.” Her fingers curled and uncurled.

“Are your hands bothering you?” He covered one with his own.

The restless movement stopped. She drew in a sharp breath. When she made no effort to pull her hand free, he squeezed. Just enough to inform her he liked holding her hand. Not surprisingly, it had a solid feel to it.

“No, my hands are fine. Why do you ask?”

“You were making a fist and letting it go. I thought perhaps they ached.”

“Oh.” Her fingers twitched against his palm. “No.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “I suppose I was remembering what it was like. Feeling again the uncertainty.”

“What were you uncertain about?”

“If I could manage all the work. If I was doing good enough. If my brothers would be all right after losing their mother.” She lifted her free hand, palm to the sky. “So many things.”

“You’d lost your mother too. Did no one give you a shoulder to cry on?”

Her breath rushed in and ended on a strangled sob.

He did the only thing that felt right. If she didn’t like it, she must let him know. He put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

For a heartbeat…two… she remained stiff and then sighed against him. Shudder after shudder rippled through her, but she didn’t show any other sign of sorrow. After a few minutes, she spoke.

“I simply had to get on with life.”

“Why is it I feel like that is your motto?” He brushed away strands of hair that tickled his face.

She laughed, the sound soft and warm against his chest. “I suppose it might be.”

Content to hold her, to have her let him hold her, he didn’t move.

A chill hit his chest as she eased back and sat with her head down, her face hidden as if unable to look at him. The thought that he’d offended her stung his heart.

“Louise, I didn’t mean to be bold. I only wanted to comfort you.” It seemed like someone should.

“No. No. I understand.” The log shifted as she got to her feet.

“Wait. What’s your rush?” He tugged on her hand, wanting her to sit down again.

“Hazel might need me.”

“Very well.” Her concern for her friend was noble. And unselfish. They’d gather wood and return to the campsite. But if Hazel didn’t need her attention, he meant to make the most of this time with Louise. Once they were back with the other wagons, she’d be with the other women. He’d be busy with camp chores.

But before that, he had her practically to himself. And he wasn’t about to waste that opportunity because every minute spent with her made him admire her more.

Not that he expected she would see him in the same way. What did he have to offer her?

There might not be a future, but there was the present.

They climbed over fallen logs while they gathered up deadwood. She went to the left as he stopped to pick up wood. His arms were full. It was time to head back.

The crash of something heavy falling shattered the air.

“Louise?” No answer. “Louise!”

He dropped his armload and made his way as fast as possible over uneven ground crisscrossed with mossy logs.

“Louise.” He rushed forward, his heart hammering in his chest.