Page 31 of Wagon Train Promises
“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.
