Page 20 of Wagon Train Promises
Air sighed from Hazel’s lips, and she collapsed into Louise’s embrace and whimpered.
“He called me. I heard him.”
Louise tipped her head back to study her friend. Her blue eyes were clouded. Was it only from distress? Her cheeks were flushed. From her nightmare or something else? Her fingerssteady, Louise brushed them across Hazel’s forehead. The woman was certainly feverish.
“Come, my dear. Let’s go have some tea and biscuits.” She headed Hazel toward the fire, Cecil close by, his gaze locked on Hazel.
“Cecil was telling me a story of how his grandmother taught him to make cookies.” The comment didn’t spark any interest in her friend. “He said he got real good at it, though he might have had to learn to monitor the heat in the oven.” They reached the log seats, and she eased Hazel down.
“I’ll get her tea.” Cecil rushed to pour out the last of the brew they’d recently enjoyed. He handed the cup to Hazel, but it was Louise who took it and urged her friend to drink.
She rubbed her hand up and down Hazel’s thin back.
“What’s wrong with her?” Cecil whispered at her side.
“I don’t know. She seems feverish but—” She bent closer, pulled back the collar of Hazel’s dress, and pushed her sleeves up to check her arms. “I see no rash.” She straightened and studied Hazel. “I see nothing else, but her behavior concerns me.” Mentally, she reviewed her lessons and her experience from her training and came up with nothing specific. In which case—“I will treat the symptoms.” She’d make willow bark tea.
Back at the wagon, she opened her satchel and found the jar she wanted.
“Mama?” Petey sat up, tousled from his sleep, and looked at Louise.
“Come here. I’ll take you to her.” She held out her arms as Petey toddled into her arms and returned to the fire.
“I’ll take him.” While Louise made the medicinal tea, Cecil entertained Petey, though his attention was mostly on Hazel, worry leaving his eyes overlarge and dewy.
Hazel drank the tea only because Louise held the cup to her lips and insisted. Finished, she sighed, glanced toward Petey,and seeing he was happy with Cecil’s attention, rose on unsteady legs.
“I’m tired.”
All she’d done for the last twenty-four hours was sleep, but Louise helped her back to the wagon, covered her with a blanket, and returned to where Cecil stood watching and waiting. His brow furrowed.
She pulled at her bottom lip. “Sleep is good.” It had to be.
“Do you think she’s plumb wore out? We’ve had a few challenging days. Plus, she’s tending a baby.”
“She’s always been strong. I’ve never known her to let things get her down, at least not since Petey was born. I suspect she’s fighting something. Perhaps influenza or—” She shrugged. Without more definitive symptoms, there was no way of telling. “All I can do is watch her, make sure she’s getting enough fluid, and treat her symptoms.” She pulled again at her bottom lip. “Sometimes there’s nothing to do but watch and wait. It’s a helpless feeling.”
“We’ll pray.” He shifted Petey to one side and bowed his head. “Father God, You are the great healer. Whatever is wrong with Hazel, we humbly ask for You to heal her. Show us if there is something more we can do. In Jesus’s name, we ask it. Amen.”
Louise stood silent, head bowed as peace and comfort washed through her. “God is good. God is able. I trust Him,” she whispered on a breath. She looked up and clapped. “Now to make something for supper.”
Across the river, she’d be one of several working together to create a bountiful meal. Here she was one. But she’d do a good job. She’d make something robust enough for a man and gentle enough to tempt Hazel. Stew it was. That would satisfy everyone.
In fact—she dug through a wooden crate—yes, there was a jar of bottled meat. Perfect. Flavorful and tender. She found limp carrots and soft potatoes and prepared them to add.
“I’ll let it stew a bit, then make dumplings.” She wiped her hands on a towel.
Cecil watched her, Petey playing at his feet. He’d watched her all the while, and she knew it. Her skin tingled at his study.
Now she allowed herself to meet his gaze. A tiny gasp slid past her lips at the look in his eyes. How would she describe it? Approving? How silly. If he approved anything, it would be the meal she was preparing. Or how she cared for Hazel.
He blinked and the look vanished. “I’m going to check on the river. Do you want to come?”
“Of course.”
He carried Petey as they walked to the bank. “Good. It hasn’t risen further.”
“Nor has it receded.” How long would it be before they could cross and rejoin the others?
