another chip of dried dung on the small fire, then stirred the ashes with a poker. A small, steady flame sputtered up and took hold. “I’ll take you back as soon as it’s light, Doc.”
“Then you’d better get some rest. I’ll sit up with your son.”
Tommy was already falling asleep. She stood and, with her fist to the small of her back, arched her body in a quick stretch. The firelight flared, the light revealing dark smudges beneath her eyes. “I’ll be taking care of my own.”
“After all this, you still don’t trust me? Not even a little?”
She raised her chin.
He let out a tired sigh and sat down on a chair, his back to the wall. “All right. Then we’ll both stay up with him.”
She plopped down in the only other chair available and stared at the fire in the hearth.
It came as a bit of a surprise that he was warm—warmer than he would be at his fancy two-story house in town, where the wind whistled and made the boards creak. Here, there were no cracks or knotholes for the breeze to pass through. Whoever had built this home had done a decent job with the materials at hand.
Before long, her breathing became deep and even. Her eyes drifted close as she slid slowly and surely to rest her head in the crook of her arm on the table.
He moved the gun out from under her elbow and took a moment to consider her. She must be somewhere around twenty-five by her unlined face and the lack of gray in her dark brown hair. Her skin was smooth and pale. He liked the slight upturn of her nose at the end. Considering the flash in her eyes when he mentioned the catgut, the shape of her nose went along well with her stubbornness. Unguarded like this, with her frown replaced by a peaceful expression, she was...attractive. Immediately, he looked away. She was just a young and determined mother. That was all. And, annoying as it had been to be kidnapped, he admired her spunk and her devotion to her son. To notice anything more about her was...unsettling. He pushed the thought away and settled back in his chair to keep watch the rest of the night.
She woke with a start to the daylight streaming through the windowpanes and her cheek mashed against the table. Her entire body ached from sitting in the chair through the night.
Across from her, Doc Graham slept with his head cushioned by his arm. The other arm was stretched most of the way across the table. His dark hair, longer on top than on the sides, flopped over his face with just enough wave in it to make him appear boyish in his sleep. A coarse, dark stubble had grown on his jaw overnight.
She shook the remaining cobwebs from her mind, stood, stretched briefly and then crouched down to check on Tommy. His breathing was even and deep. He slept. Peacefully. She peeled back the cover over his feet to check his bandage. It still looked fresh. Why hadn’t the doc wanted to use her honey? Didn’t he know it was good for cuts and such? And Tommy’s cut was the biggest she’d ever seen. She’d make sure to add some when she changed the bandage later, after she returned from taking the doctor home. She put Tommy’s cover back on and stood.
The doc had done his part. Tommy was healing. The least she could do was offer him breakfast before taking him back to town. She sure didn’t have any money to pay him for his doctorin’. Didn’t even have any eggs to send with him! She filled the tin pot with water from the pitcher and threw in two handfuls of chicory. Then she hung the pot on the hook and swung it over the hearth. She set another chip on the fire and stirred up the ashes.
Quiet as a mouse, she slipped outside to see to her needs and those of her animals. An inch of new snow had fallen during the night and the air was crisp with the tang of winter’s end. In the shed, she gave Berta a measure of oats, checked on her sheep and milked her goat. Then she walked to the chicken coop and gathered the eggs. Seven eggs—that was plenty for the three of them and the number was a good sign. She carried the pail and basket back to the house.
When she walked through the door, the doc was crouched over Tommy.
“Is he all right?” she asked quickly.
“He might have some dizziness for a few days.”
She knelt before the hearth. “I’ll have breakfast for you directly.” She pushed the iron skillet closer to the hearth. “Then I’ll take you back to town.”
She heard the door close behind her. Had he left? Was he walking back to town? She jumped to her feet and rushed to the window. He stood in the middle of the yard and stretched. My, but he was a tall man! Much bigger than Thomas had been.
She took in the yard, trying to see it through his eyes. It was always a bit muddy and dreary this time of year. Only the hardiest of weeds had gotten a start in the dirt. At least last night’s snow covered most of it and made the yard look clean. She let out a sigh. It wasn’t much to look at. Not when compared to the fine houses in town. Each new house that was built in Oak Grove looked bigger and finer than the last.
Well, it was all she could do to keep the place running as it was. There was no time for prettying up things. But it was her place. Hers and Tommy’s and built by his father. And that meant something. She wasn’t going to apologize for it.
He headed for the rain barrel on the far side of the cabin, moving with a measured steadiness that had a way of calming a person. He leaned over and splashed water on his face. His gasp and quick shudder at the coldness amused her. The man probably had someone warm his water at home—straight from a pot on a fancy stove. Well, he would just have to forego that kind of coddling here.
She couldn’t seem to hold back from stealing one more glance. If coddling made a man weak, like Carl had said, the doc didn’t look weak in the least. His shoulders were broad as a barn door and his linen shirt stretched over them in a manner that made butterflies suddenly swarm in her tummy. He looked full of health...full of vigor. Her cheeks warmed at the thought. It had been a long time since she’d noticed a man’s qualities.
When he stepped inside the privy, she pulled away from the window, not wanting to puzzle out why she had stood there watching him for a spell when she had so much to do. Not wanting to decipher that at all. She moved back to awaken Tommy and help him with his morning needs.
The doc strode through the door and stopped when he saw the spread on the table. Coffee, fried eggs, toast and jam. She fixed a plate for him and set it across the table. Then she fixed another plate for Tommy and gave it to him there on his pallet. Last, she fixed one for herself.
He waited for her to sit down, like a gentleman. She said grace, adding at the end how grateful she was for Tommy feeling better and for the doctor’s skill. Then the man waited for her to take a bite of food.
“It’ll get cold fast, Doc. Eat up.” She was awkward with his ways. The last person who sat at the table with her, besides her son, was Tommy’s father and he’d not been one to wait on her to start eating first.
“This is every bit as good as the breakfast I get at the restaurant in town,” he said, after a few bites.
“Can’t mess up eggs and toast, Doc,” she said, amused.
He gave a derisive snort.
“You mean you can’t cook a simple thing like this?” The thought struck her as comical. “Didn’t you learn growin’
