“I'll stay.” Case stepped forward. “He's my brother, and I need to be here.”
“Case, you were on your feet all day.” This from Mr. Lewis. “While he's resting, you should too. I have a feeling he'll need lots of help as he heals, and you'll need your strength.”
“I'll stay up with him so y'all can catch a few winks,” Kizzie offered. After all, Charlie should stay asleep the rest of the night.
“No, dear girl, you're our guest.” Mrs. Lewis commanded attention with the lift of her chin. “I've slept a few hours, so I'll take the first watch.”
“Mother—”
Her look stopped Mr. Lewis’ response. “You'll do no good if you're exhausted either, Noah. You can take the next watch.” She plucked a book off the tea tray. “Besides, I can catch up on my reading.”
Mr. Lewis conceded to his mother's wishes without another word. Kizzie studied them. Was Mr. Lewis under his mother's power like Charles was his? What was it about men and their mothers? Her brother, Jeb, certainly respected Mama and would submit to her wishes most times, but out of respect, not fear.
Which was it for Mr. Lewis and his mother?
“I'm sorry we woke you, Miss McAdams,” Mrs. Lewis said.
“Truth be told, I was already awake with Charlie. With the traveling today, he's off his schedule a little.” Kizzie looked down, remembering the bag in her hand. “Oh, and I thought this might help.” She presented the bag to Mrs. Lewis. “It's a small piece of ginger root.”
Mrs. Lewis’ smile filled her face. “Ah, for tea. For the pain?”
Kizzie nodded as the woman took her offering. “Mama always used it to help with pain of all sorts. If I had some willow bark, I'd offer it too.” She gestured toward Mr. Lewis. “Ginger tea might do Mr. Lewis’ leg some good too.”
Mrs. Lewis swiveled to look at her son, her expression dawning with understanding. “I'm afraid I've been so intent on Martin, I completely forgot about your injuries, Noah.”
“Mother, I will be fine.” But even in saying it, he placed his hand on the back of the chair for support.
“Hmm …” Mrs. Lewis noticed too. “Miss McAdams makes a solid point. Noah, you, Taylor, and Case will need your strength for whatever work needs to be done once the storm stops. Getting at least some rest tonight will do you all good. And your twisted ankle and sore shoulder have some healing to do.” She turned to Kizzie. “I suppose you can make ginger tea?”
“Of course, ma'am. I can make a poultice for Mr. Lewis’ shoulder too, if y'all got some onion and garlic or turmeric. Smells somethin’ awful, but it's been known for treating aches and sores, even helps with swelling.”
“Well …” She turned to Mr. Lewis. “You're in pain, Noah. It's obvious.” She waved toward the tea tray. “Take that to the kitchen, if you will, and allow Miss McAdams freedom to make you some tea and a poultice.”
“I'll bring some for Marty too, if you like,” Kizzie offered.
Mrs. Lewis nodded. “Yes, he is likely to have a headache.”
“We could make a chamomile and lavender poultice. We could place it on his head while he sleeps, and maybe it will help him rest better and lessen the pain.”
“How did you learn all this?” Mrs. Lewis asked, her smile a bit on the surprised side.
Kizzie shrugged a shoulder. “My mama and granny had mountain remedies passed down. Being so far from town, we learned to make do with what we had.”
“I heard my father speak of such remedies back home in England but never witnessed them.” She studied Kizzie carefully, almost as if she was trying to sort something out.
With their previous conversation and Mrs. Lewis’ knowledge of Kizzie's past, perhaps she was trying to figure if Kizzie still lived in her sinful ways. A woman of her social status had to take care to protect her family's name, didn't she? Like Mrs. Morgan and Charles?
Kizzie knew this story, so she'd tread carefully with any conversations or friendships in this home.
And keep her expectations matched to what she knew.
A person should steer clear of becoming too comfortable with people outside their status.
“I think a poultice for both would be excellent, Miss McAdams.” Mrs. Lewis released Kizzie from her stare, renewing her smile as she turned to her son. “Noah?”
“I'll lead the way.” He dipped his head, his submission not of the same ilk as Charles’.
More like Jeb with Daddy in the workshop.
