Wagonmaster (7 page)

She felt his eyes watching her as she pulled a bottle of cider from one of the bins. Grabbing the kettle she'd used to prepare medicine for her patients, she put it and the cider on the chair next to the opening and bent to retrieve some wood for the fire.

Joshua leaned forward, grabbing her hands. “I've already started a fire for you.”

At the touch of his hands, her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to move into his arms and feel those hands on her body again. Heat scorched her cheeks.
Goodness! The man has me thinking about sex without even kissing me.
“I….” Her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Thank you.” Finally, she found the courage to meet his gaze. He stared at her, his expression unreadable as usual. “That was very thoughtful of you.” She had to struggle to keep from sounding breathless. “You didn't have to do that.”

He searched her face and spoke softly. “No regrets?”

His question surprised her. Did he worry that she'd be upset about what had happened between them? If so, she could put those concerns to rest for him. “Regrets are pointless, Joshua.” His hands still held hers, and she gave them a squeeze. “You gave me comfort when I needed it. And nothing has ever felt so wonderful. I will never regret what happened. To the contrary, I really want to thank you for….well, for everything.”

A glimpse of what might have been relief skipped across his features, but it quickly disappeared. He didn't speak. He just continued to watch her as if judging her sincerity.

She bit her lip. It would probably be a mistake to ask, but she had to know. The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Do you think me a tramp, Joshua? I know my behavior—”

His hands moved with lightning speed. His thumbs covered her mouth and stopped her words. “Don't you
ever
say anything like that again.” Anger hardened his voice. “You are no tramp, Addie. You are the finest, most kindhearted and generous woman I've ever met. What happened between us is nothin' for you to be ashamed of. Do you understand?”

Addie smiled, reached up, and pulled his hands away from her mouth. “I'm not ashamed. The truth is that I don't usually care what most people think of me. I've learned that my own self-respect is what's important. But with you….” She shook her head. “For some reason, it matters what
you
think of me.” She shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

He drew her into his arms and held her. “Well, I think you're damn near perfect.” Joshua nuzzled her ear. With words dripping feigned remorse, he whispered, “If only you could do somethin' about that stubborn streak of yours. And you can be a bit bossy at times. And—”

“Oh! You just had to go and spoil it!” She laughed.

His low chuckle rumbled through him. He released her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “We'd better hurry and warm that cider.” He grabbed the heavy jug and handed her the empty kettle. She gathered a couple of mugs and followed him out of the wagon.

* * * *

Josh settled Addie's wrap across her shoulders. “My shawl. I thought I left it with the Adams.”

“I got it for you while you were sleeping.” It had been difficult to speak to the grieving parents. Actually, Mrs. Adams hadn't spoken at all. She'd sat sobbing while Mr. Adams retrieved the requested garment. Josh hadn't wanted to intrude, but the grateful smile Addie gave him now was proof enough he'd done the right thing. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, thank you. I've a heavy coat packed away in the wagon. If it gets much colder, I suppose I'll have to start wearing it.” She closed her eyes and sipped appreciatively from her mug of hot cider.

“You should be wearing it now. You'll catch a chill—”

Her eyes opened wide, and she laughed at his concern. “I'm fine really. This dress is made of heavy wool, and my undergarments are silk.”

He turned up his cup and drained the rest of his cider. “Is silk really as warm as I've heard? I can't imagine how it could be.”

“Yes. It may be lightweight, but it's quite warm and….” Her words trailed off, her attention focused behind him.

Josh turned to find Mr. and Mrs. Fleming followed by several others heading toward the Adam's wagon. It was time for the funeral. He looked again at Addie and saw the sadness in her eyes, but she stood and squared her shoulders, visibly bracing herself for what was to come. She appeared tired. Though not as noticeable as before her nap, the circles beneath her eyes remained. And whether from lack of rest or from her distress over the death of the child, pallor tinted her complexion.

“Do you think they blame me?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “It's not your fault. They know that.”

With a heavy sigh, she nodded. “It doesn't matter, really. It's just that they'd finally begun to accept me. This could turn them against me. I don't want you to have trouble again.”

“There will be no trouble. I'll see to that. But you don't give them enough credit, darlin'. They know you tried to save the child. Come on. You'll see.” He held out his hand and prayed he was right about the rest of the train.

Addie set her cup on her chair and drew her shawl around her shoulders. She placed her hand in his and sent him another grateful look. Josh gave her hand a gentle squeeze and began walking with her toward the others.

Silent tears rolled down Addie's cheeks as Mr. Fleming said the final words of prayer. The funeral had been difficult for everyone, but Josh knew there would have been many more funerals had Addie not been with them. He could only hope he was right about the others. Surely they wouldn't blame her for the child's death.

Josh surveyed the group. Everyone on the train had turned out for the funeral, even those still recovering from cholera. The Cooper family hadn't been afflicted with the illness; they were solemn but healthy. Elias and Anna Wheeler waited quietly with their parents and youngest sister. The children had mended quickly. Mr. Evans and his boy stood next to Mrs. Evans, who seemed to be recovering, but their daughter appeared very pale. Several of them looked his way, some glanced at Addie, but thankfully he saw no hostility in their gazes, only sorrow for the death of the child. Addie never noticed any of them. Her gaze remained on the little grave, though he doubted she actually saw it. Behind the tears, her glazed and unfocused eyes revealed her distress.

“Amen.” Mr. Fleming finished his prayer. A chorus of softly echoed ‘Amens' followed.

Josh replaced his hat. Addie made no move to leave, so he stood next to her for a moment, waiting for her. Mr. and Mrs. Adams approached them.

Mr. Adams held his hat in his hand, his grief etched in his features. “Mrs. Reynolds, I need to know something.”

Addie jerked her gaze to Mr. Adams. Her stomach tightened, and she pressed her fists against it to keep her hands from shaking.
This is it.
This is what she'd been expecting. It was about to happen—that moment when the child's father and the rest of the train would condemn her as an incompetent doctor. They would blame her. And nothing she could say would change things. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the worst. She met the grieving father's gaze. Her heart ached at what she saw.

“Yes, Mr. Adams?” There was no point in avoiding the man.

“Was it my fault?” he asked, his voice low and unsteady.

Stunned by his question, it took her a moment to realize what he'd asked, what he must be thinking. Even then she was unsure if he'd really asked her that question. “I beg your pardon?”

His chin rose, and he swallowed audibly. Mrs. Adams stood next to him, her head bowed, crying silent tears. “I wouldn't let my wife send for you at first. I waited too late, didn't I? It's my fault my boy is dead.”

Addie wasn't certain what she should say. The possibility existed. She might have been able to save the child if treatment had begun sooner, but she'd never know for certain if the boy would have lived. Mrs. Adams lifted her gaze, the anguish behind the tears enough to wrench anyone's heart. Addie looked at Joshua. Shadows veiled his face beneath the brim of his hat, but his eyes held no emotion and no answer to her dilemma.

Joshua's comforting words echoed through her head, and she knew she could not be completely truthful with the grieving father. “Mr. Adams, I've yet to meet anyone who could defy God's will.” Tears filled her eyes, but she struggled to hold them at bay. “God called His little angel home, and nothing either of us could have done would have changed that.”

Mrs. Adams let out the breath she'd been holding and grasped her husband's elbow. Mr. Adams nodded stiffly. He settled his hat atop his head and put an arm around his wife's shoulder. Thick with unshed tears and bottled emotion, his voice shook. “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds, for...” He faltered and cleared his throat. Sorrow-filled eyes met hers for an instant, but the pain in them had lessened. “Thank you.” He dipped his head to Joshua and steered his wife back to the wagon.

Addie turned to find Joshua watching her. He gave her a smile and held out his hand. She placed her hand in his, and he led her back to her wagon.

“You lied to Mr. Adams.” His soft words might have been an accusation, but the statement lacked the sound of disapproval.

“It wasn't a lie, really. Perhaps it just wasn't the whole truth.”

“You might've been able to save the boy if Adams had sent for you sooner.”

“We'll never know that for certain. It's like you said. It was God's will.” They reached her wagon, and he stopped. She shrugged. “I think I would have been able to ease his suffering sooner, but Mr. Adams doesn't need to know that. He is hurting enough as it is.”

Joshua touched her cheek with his other hand. “You continue to amaze me, Addie. Mr. Adams has done nothin' but harass you since you joined the train. And yet you would hide the truth to keep from hurtin' him.”

She couldn't resist the urge to turn her face into his warm palm. “I'm just grateful he doesn't blame me.”

His lips brushed her forehead, soft and tender. “You need to fix yourself some supper now.”

“I'm not really hungry. I think I'll—”

“When was the last time you ate, Addie?” His voice held a chastising tone.

“I….” Her brows drew together.

“You can't even remember, can you?” His frown revealed his irritation. “You need to eat. I want you to fix yourself a hot meal. Do you understand? I don't want you gettin' sick.”

Addie sighed. “You're right. Will you join me?”

His frown softened, but he shook his head. “It'll be dark soon. I need to ride out and inspect the perimeter. I haven't had a chance to do it.”

She realized he'd been driving her wagon and comforting her all day. “I'm sorry, Joshua. I didn't mean to make things harder for you.”

He hugged her close. “You haven't, sweetheart. Not at all.”

His arms felt so good, and she wanted to stay right there forever, but he pulled away too soon. She smiled up at him and tried to cover the dismay she suffered at the loss of his warmth. “I'll fix some supper then. Will I see you later?”

“I'll be back in a couple of hours.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “Eat,” he commanded. He spun on his heel and headed toward Jimmy's wagon.

* * * *

Addie heated some cider in an effort to rid herself of the chill that had seeped into her bones. She blew across the liquid and sipped. Joshua joined her, and she offered him a cup. “Have some hot cider. It's gotten really cold out here.”

He took the cider from her with a smile. “I think this would taste better with a shot of that whiskey.”

She laughed. “That can be arranged. Why don't we drink this in the wagon and get out of this frigid wind.” Not waiting for his reply, she grabbed her cup and the kettle with the cider and climbed the steps into the wagon. She set the kettle down and felt for the matches to light the lamp. Though very dark inside the wagon, light flared as she struck a match. She turned and found him watching her.

“What did you have for supper?”

Addie almost groaned. “I…just a few moments after you left, Mr. Evans came to tell me that his daughter was ill. I made her medicine and went to their wagon.” Joshua frowned at her. The muscles worked in his jaw. Was he angry with her, or was he just worried about the Evans girl? “She's very sick, but she's young and strong. And we've begun the treatment early. I'm sure she'll be fine, but I used the last of my honey. I hope no one else gets sick. I'm not sure I'll be able to treat them effectively.”

He shook his head. “What did you eat, Addie?”

She sighed. “Peaches. When I left the Evans family, I was too fatigued to cook, so I just ate some canned peaches.”

“Addie! You can't even remember the last meal you had. You're goin' to get sick.” He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You've got to eat!”

“I did!” She rushed on as he narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw again. “I really wasn't hungry, but I forced myself to eat the peaches. I'll eat a big breakfast in the morning.”

“Yes, you will. I'll be here in the mornin' to see that you do.” He released her and rested his hands on his hips.

She nodded and smiled. He'd be here in the morning. He planned to stay the night with her. She couldn't stop herself. She stepped close to him and stood on her toes to give him a kiss. His arms encircled her, and he returned her kiss with a groan. He held her close, his kiss hungry and passionate.

Addie melted. His hands roamed across her hips and bottom. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, his breathing as unsteady as hers too. Her voice came out in husky whisper. “I'll get the whiskey.”

Joshua stepped away from her. “No. I'd better go.”

“Go?” His words hit her like a splash of cold water. “But I thought…?”

His hand stroked her hair. “You need to rest, sweetheart.”

Disappointment washed through her, but she tried to make light of it. “Are you saying you'd rather sleep with Jimmy?”

He laughed and pulled her to him for a quick hug. He smiled, but his words held a worried tone. “Darlin', you're pale.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones. “And you've got circles under your eyes. You need to rest.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. “If I stay with you tonight, you won't be gettin' any sleep.”

Addie knew he was right. She was so tired. That didn't stop her from wanting to sleep in his arms tonight. She tried to argue, but he shook his head.

“Go to bed. You need to sleep. I'll see you in the morning.” He pressed one last kiss to her forehead and turned to leave. He paused before he let the canvas fall over the opening. “Sweet dreams, darlin'.”

* * * *

Addie flipped to her back again. For hours she'd tried to sleep, but her discomfort wouldn't allow it. Her stomach ached and churned. One moment the warmth beneath her heavy quilts left her sweating. The next minute, she shivered with chills. She sat up with a guttural groan. Nausea swept through her.

Addie climbed from her wagon and rushed to the nearby bushes and trees. A full moon rode high in the clear sky, and a cold wind sliced through her shawl. She grasped a low tree branch, doubled over, and lost the peaches she'd eaten for supper. With her stomach empty, the retching stopped and her stomach cramps eased, but the pain moved lower to her bowels. More than an hour later, she returned to her wagon, shivering, aching and utterly exhausted.

* * * *

It surprised Josh to find Addie hadn't already started a fire. She was usually up and moving before the others. He stopped at the end of her wagon, speaking loudly enough to be heard. “Addie, are you awake?”

He waited but received no answer. He lifted the canvas and peeked inside. “Addie?” A soft moan alerted him to her presence. He climbed the steps into the wagon. The lamp near the bed burned low, illuminating the form huddled in the corner on the bed. Fear gripped him. “Addie?”

He moved closer. Her face, pale as milk other than two rosy spots on her cheeks, rested against a pillow wedged between her and the wagon cover. He reached out, laying the back of his hand against her forehead. He cursed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Addie, can you hear me?”

Her lids fluttered open to expose glassy and unfocused eyes. “Joshua,” she whispered.

“How long have you been like this?” Worry strained his voice. He needed to stay calm.

Her brow furrowed. “Midnight, I think. I've been trying to drink some water with salt. It doesn't seem to be helping much. No sugar or honey….” A shiver shook her, and her teeth began chattering.

“I'll find some sugar or honey. Somebody in this blasted wagon train must have some.” He stood to go.

“Joshua.”

He hardly heard her, so he leaned down. “What is it, darlin'?”

“The train has to keep moving.” Her voice shook. “They'll run out of water.”

He smiled. Even deathly ill, the amazing woman was more worried about the train than she was about herself. “I know. We'll leave as soon as we get you some medicine.”

She nodded. “I'll catch up when I get my strength back.”

His gut tightened. “I'm not leavin' you, Addie.”

“Joshua, I can't drive my wagon. I—”

“I'll drive your wagon.” He fought against the anger building inside him. She was sick. Maybe even delirious with the fever. Surely she didn't believe he'd just leave her here.

She sighed and closed her eyes as she spoke. “No. You have other responsibilities.”

He couldn't hold it back any longer. “Damn it, Addie! I'm won't leave you and that's the end of it.”

Her heavy lids lifted. He expected to see the usual determination and stubbornness in the dark blue depths, but he found only sadness reflected there. “I don't want to be a burden, Joshua. Please—”

“You are not—”

“Joshua, listen to me. I can hardly lift the glass to drink. I…I may not recover.”

He flinched as if she'd slapped him. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Don't you give up on me, Addie. Damn it, woman! Don't you dare give up.”

Her lips turned up at the corners. “I don't know how to give up. I've never done it. Clearly you don't know me very well, Joshua Reynolds.”

Relief washed over him. The breath that had seized in his chest released in a whoosh. He turned to leave, but her next words stopped him, reviving the fear and anger.

“I didn't give up on Jesse Adams, either.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “But he died. I'm just being realistic.”

His hands tightened into fists, and he fought the need to hit something. “No. You're being stubborn as usual,” he grumbled and climbed down out of the wagon.

Josh placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. He waved his hand in a circular motion to indicate he was calling a meeting. Moments later, most of the train members had gathered around him, their faces revealing their anxiety and curiosity over what he might need to say to them.

“Addie….” He stopped to rephrase his statement. “My wife has the cholera. She's used all her sugar and honey to treat everyone else. Who has some we can use?” Everyone murmured and looked to each other, shaking their heads. Josh tried again. “What about syrup? Does anyone have some syrup? Anything sweet?”

Mr. Evans spoke. “I think we have some molasses. Will that do?”

Josh scanned the group. When no one else offered, he answered, “I guess it will have to. It doesn't look like we have anything else. We'll need about half a cup, I think. Do you have that much?”

Mr. Evans nodded. “Yes, I'm pretty sure we have most of a large jar.”

“Good.” Josh turned to the rest of the group. “I'll be driving her wagon again today. If any problems arise, you'll need to send someone ahead to tell me. Be ready to head out in an hour. Mr. Evans, let's get that molasses.”

“Mr. Reynolds?” Elias Wheeler's young voice carried across the circle. He pulled away from his mother.

“Yes?”

“Is the nice doctor lady gonna get better?” A mask of concern and worry covered his face.

Josh wanted to assure the little boy that Addie would be fine, but she'd reminded him only moments ago that cholera could be deadly. “I sure hope so, Elias.”

“Who's takin' care of her? Somebody's got to help her drink the medicine. She'll get better like me if she drinks the medicine.”

Josh stared at the little boy, unable to answer. Everyone began talking, murmuring to each other.