Chapter 8

The ground slammed into Louise. Her armload of wood crashed around her. One thumped on her head. Another smashed into the back of her hand. Something dug into her ribs.

“Louise?”

She tried to answer, but nothing came from her mouth.

And no air went in.

The ground thudded as Cecil raced toward her. “Louise. What happened?”

Her chest hurt.

The thump of wood being tossed aside echoed in her head. Gentle hands touched her shoulder. “Can you get up?” He guided her to a sitting position.

A painful gust of air rushed into her lungs. She gasped, hungry for more.

Cool fingers brushed her brow. “What have you done to yourself?” He turned over her hands and examined them front and back. “You’ve a nasty bruise on this one.”

“I fell.” She blinked back at the log she’d climbed on to get over. “Lost my load of wood.”

“The wood doesn’t matter. How badly hurt are you?” His warm grasp on her shoulders made her lungs tighten again.

“I’m all right.” Maybe. With every breath, another portion of her body made itself known in a painful protest. “All I did was fall.” People survived falls all the time without so much as a bruise.

“There’s a cut on your forehead.” He touched the spot, and she winced. “And a nasty scratch down your cheek.” He trailed a fingertip down the right side of her face, presumably where he saw a scratch.

A shiver trickled across her shoulders.

“I’ll help you up.” He caught her elbows.

His face was inches away. Close enough she made out the laugh lines fanning out from his eyes. Dark eyes filled with concern. For her? Why? It unsettled her stomach. She lowered her gaze along his cheeks. Black stubble covered the lower part of his face. She might have shivered with fear at his dark intensity. Except he would never hurt her, and she managed a weak smile.

“I can do it on my own.”

He didn’t release her even when she got her feet under her and her legs straightened.

The trees wobbled and waved. She groaned and closed her eyes, willing away dizziness.

“Can you walk?”

Was the concern in his voice due to him wondering if he’d have to carry her back?

No one had ever had to worry about whether or not she could manage, and she sure wasn’t going to let it start now. “Of course, I can.”

But he chose not to believe her and held her elbow as they climbed over the log that had caused this upset and retained it as they crossed the clearing.

She pulled back. “What about the wood?”

“Unless it sprouts legs or wings, it isn’t going anywhere. I’ll get it later. First, you need to get back to camp where you can sit.”

She tried to pull free, but he wouldn’t release her. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no point in going back empty-handed.”

“I’m not empty-handed.” His gentle chuckle warred with her determination to manage on her own. “Louise, it’s all right to let someone help you. You don’t always have to be the strong person in charge.”

Protests sputtered from her mouth. Words with no definable shape. “I don’t think I have to be in charge.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“You say the right thing, but I don’t think you mean what you say.”

“You could be right.”

“Why are you being so agreeable?”

Another gentle chuckle. “It seems someone should be.”

The wagon and dying campfire were a few yards ahead. How had they gotten out of the woods?

She flung around to stare at him, the movement making her head spin. Not that she’d ever, ever let him know it. “Did you trick me?”

“Did I?” His eyes twinkled leaving her dizzy and confused.

They crossed the last few feet.

“Here. Sit down.”

She sat only because refusing seemed childish.

“I’m going to make tea.” He added two pieces of wood to the fire and hung a pot of water over the flames. Before she could voice the protest rushing to her mouth, he continued. “You can have some if you like.”

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” Peevishness edged her words.

“What?” He poured hot water over tea leaves.

“Being nice so I can’t refuse.”

Loud laughter roared from him. He tried to say something but couldn’t.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, doing her best to appear annoyed. But, honestly, how could she be when his laughter sang through her? When he was so nice?

He sobered and leaned close. “Louise, haven’t you learned that I am a nice person?”

His eyes narrowed, and he straightened, hurried to the wagon to speak to Hazel, and returned with a clean cloth that he dampened with the warm water. He leaned over her again, took her chin in his hand, and dabbed at her cheek.

She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look into his face that was close enough his breath became hers. “Cecil?” His name jerked from her tight throat, but the protest she wanted to utter died before it was born.

“There’s no point in resisting. Your scratches need cleaning, and I’m going to do it.”

Swallowing hard, she endured his ministrations.

The warm cloth whispered over her skin. Gentle as a kitten’s touch. Soothing.

“That’s better.”

Was he finished? Not wanting to leave the sweet cocoon she’d fallen into, she didn’t open her eyes to check.

He picked up her hand. “Your hand is swollen. It’s going to be sore for a few days.” Cool fingers trailed along her skin. “Louise?”

She forced her eyes open. Met his demanding, commanding, gentle gaze. A lump settled into her chest, making it hard to breathe. She scrubbed her lips together, striving for control.

“Would you tell me if you were hurt elsewhere?”

His concern was almost her undoing.

Hazel, carrying Petey, joined them at the fire. “I heard you’d had a fall.”

Louise sucked in air that opened her lungs and released her from her bemused state.

“It’s nothing. I thought I could climb over a log with my hands full, but the moss was slippery.” The smile she offered barely moved her lips. “I’ve just got a few bruises.”

Hazel studied her. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m all right.” The only pain she felt had nothing to do with her fall. Why had she let herself be drawn in a direction that wasn’t for her?

She was going to Fort Taylor to be a nurse. And although she didn’t have any ironclad plans, she now made up her mind. She would go to some distant outpost, far away from Fort Taylor and those she traveled with. She’d be one of those nurses who devoted themselves to the care of others.

Hadn’t ministering to others been her goal from the beginning? Even before she entered nurses’ training? She’d held the tiny, dying baby in her arms and wished she could do more. She’d stood by helpless as her mother passed away. Maybe if she’d known more, she could have prevented both deaths. As a nurse now, she knew it was possible to prevent infection, to offer comfort, and?—

She was about to push to her feet and get on with the work before her when Cecil put a cup of tea in her hands.

“Relax and enjoy a warm drink.” He perched beside her.

She bent over the cup and inhaled the steam. It did nothing to soothe her trembling nerves.

He drew his legs up, his heels furrowing the ground.

The liquid in her cup jostled as her arms twitched. Why must she be so aware of every move he made? It was silly. Not like her at all. She sucked in air again, but this time, it caught in her throat. She coughed.

A hot drink would clear it, and she gulped a mouthful. And proceeded to choke.

Cecil patted her on the back. His hand warm, comforting?—

Good grief. Had she hit her head harder than she thought? Left some of her brains on the ground back there?

“I’m fine,” she sputtered and sipped the liquid. Desperate for rescue, she looked around for Hazel. Where was her friend when Louise needed her? There she was. Wandering down the trail with Petey. Why wasn’t she here with Cecil?

Louise leaned forward, intending to set the cup down. But her hand trembled, and she drew back. What was wrong with her? How could she be acting this way? She’d been strong when her mother passed, when her brothers moved on. When she traveled alone to the big city of Toronto and began her training. She stiffened her spine. She wasn’t about to let a little fall make her weak.

Though it wasn’t so much the fall?—

That’s all it was. All it could be.

To prove it to herself, she scooted back and ignored the trembling of her fingers as she sipped the tea.

“That’s better. Relax for a few minutes. You don’t always have to be taking care of people or chores.”

Is that how he saw her?

She jammed the cup on the nearest log stool and almost pushed to her feet. But wouldn’t that prove his point?

“I’m not working when I read.”

“True.” He ducked to look into her face. “And I enjoy the story. Maybe you’ll read some more tonight.”

“Of course.” Hazel was a dozen yards down the trail, squatting at Petey’s side. Had they found a bug to examine? Or a pretty rock? Why couldn’t she get back here and entertain Cecil?

Except—

Louise swallowed hard.

Except she didn’t really want her to.

Cecil had never seenLouise so fidgety. Had she hurt herself more than she admitted? The wood he’d brought earlier would see them through the night, which was a good thing because he didn’t intend to leave the camp anytime soon.

“Do you want more tea?” He nodded toward her empty cup.

She flicked a bit of ash off her skirt. “Thank you, but no.” Her gaze went past him in the direction Hazel and Petey had gone. Then that brown-eyed gaze slid to him, paused, and grew intent. An unsteady breath shuddered through her before her attention shifted back to Hazel.

He waited. Why was she so nervous? Or was she trying to hide the pain? The dark bruises on her face might not be her only injuries.

Wanting to comfort her, he pressed his hand to her arm.

A jolt shook her. She gulped. Her gaze jerked to his, her eyes wide as moons.

He smiled, doing his best to show his concern. To make her feel at ease. “I just want to make certain you’re not hurting too badly.”

“I’m fine. I told you so already.”

Her sharpness annoyed him. “Well, maybe I’m not.”

Surprise flashed over her expression.

“When I heard you fall and saw you on the ground—” His throat closed off, and he couldn’t finish. Just thinking of it felt like a runaway horse raced through his chest, pounding and thumping and crowding so he couldn’t get in enough air to dispel the sensation.

Her gaze remained steady. Holding his.

His heart slowed.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she whispered.

“Of course, you didn’t.” His voice surprised him. Soft. Like he spoke to his grandmother to soothe her fears and worries. Which wasn’t surprising seeing as he wanted to comfort Louise.

He brushed his fingers along her cheek, careful not to exert any pressure on the darkening bruise. “You hurt yourself.” The words grated from his throat.

Her lips parted as if she meant to say something, but then her mouth closed.

Did he imagine she tipped her head toward his touch?

“Louise.” He breathed her name.

Her eyelids lowered halfway, then drifted open, her gaze searching his, delving deep. Looking for something.

He wished he could give her what she wanted.

“Louise,” he whispered her name again.

Something behind him caught her attention, and she blinked, sat back, and drew in a breath that seemed to go on forever.

Her gaze did not return to his. Instead, she studied her clasped hands.

He waited, but she didn’t look at him.

Petey’s babble drifted past, and then Hazel’s laughing reply. They had returned, making Louise pull back. Just when he thought she might begin to see him as something more than a fellow traveler.

She pushed to her feet and stood a moment as if needing to get her balance. “Hazel, you can sit here.” She indicated the stool she’d vacated even though there were others. “Let Petey play with Cecil.”

And then she slipped away. Potlids rattled as she lifted them.

Hazel stopped a few feet from the campfire. Was she as confused by Louise’s behavior as he was? The way her brows went up, and her eyes widened, she must be.

At least, Hazel appeared much improved over the last couple of days. Or was she hiding it? “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good. I’m good.” She edged close to Louise. “How are you? Your face is certainly bruised.”

Louise pressed her fingers to her cheek. “I’m sure it looks worse than it is.” A potlidclanged into place. “But it’s only bruises.”

Petey had been at his mother’s side but toddled toward Cecil. “Play.” He caught his toe on the uneven ground and fell.

His outstretched hands headed straight for the hot coals.