Page 13 of Wagon Train Promises
“Mama?”
Petey’s voice achieved what Cecil and Louise hadn’t been able to, and Hazel stirred.
She moaned and tried to sit up. “My head hurts.” She lay down again.
Cecil didn’t know what to do. “You’re the nurse.” In other words, what would you suggest we do?
“I feel like she needs to at least drink some water.”
“I’ll fetch some fresh.” He handed Petey to her and trotted down to the river. Those on the other side gathered around the campfire, eating their noon meal. They seemed so far away, but they hadn’t moved. It was only that…
He scooped up water and hurried back to the wagon.
“Take Petey so I can help her.” As soon as they’d transferred the child, Louise shook Hazel and demanded she sit up. She half dragged the other woman upright.
Groaning, eyes unfocused, Hazel swayed from side to side. “Dizzy,” she mumbled. “Headache.”
“I know.” Louise’s tone was gentle. “Drink this water, and then you can lie down again.” She held the cup to Hazel’s lips, and the woman drank. After three mouthfuls, she took the cup and drained it.
“More.” She drank two more full cups and then lay down.
“That was good. I think she’s dehydrated.” Louise pulled up the skin on the back of Hazel’s hand. “See? I’ll let her rest a little while and then give her more water.”
“She’ll be fine, won’t she?”
“I’ll make sure she is.”
“What would happen if you didn’t insist that she drink?”
She drew in a long breath. “It can be serious.”
“As in—?” He didn’t have to say the wordfatalbefore she nodded. He’d heard of being thirsty but not dehydrated. Though, come to think of it, didn’t travelers die of thirst and sometimes do strange things?
“It’s good you knew what to do.” He might have let her sleep until it was too late.
Louise returned to the fire.
Cecil let Petey pat his mother’s feet before he followed. He settled the baby on a hunk of wood between his feet. If something happened to Hazel, there would be plenty of family members to care for the youngster, but the idea brought no consolation. Petey had already lost his father. That was enough for the child to bear.
“How long will you let her sleep?” He couldn’t keep his gaze off the feet visible at the end of the wagon. If it depended on him and the limited information Louise gave, he’d have Hazel sitting up right now, draining cup after cup of water.
“Until the soup is ready. The broth will do her good.” She stirred the mixture, lifted a spoonful, blew to cool it, and then sipped it. “A few more minutes.”
Fine. She knew how to treat Hazel. But Cecil’s nerves twitched. If things went wrong while he was here with the two women?—
Well, he wouldn’t think of it. He would tend them as he had his grandmother. Air filled his lungs as the tension in his chest eased, and he turned back to the baby.
“Pat-a-cake. Pat-a-cake.”
Petey rocked with enthusiasm over the game and perhaps over the attention.
Cecil’s gaze drifted to the wagon.
Petey grabbed his hands and demanded more play.
Louise brought bowls and ladled soup. “I’ll let it cool a bit.” She set them down and headed back to the wagon.
Leaving Petey with two sticks to bang together, Cecil got to his feet. “Do you want help getting her up?” He meant to give it whether or not she said she wanted it.
