Ash reached out her arms, catching the boy in a fierce hug. "I'm not going to leave you, any of you, Renny! I swear it!"
"Swear it?" The boy gave a brittle laugh as he struggled and broke free. "Like you sweared you were goin' to be a nun, Sister Ash?"
Ashleen felt as if he'd kicked her in the stomach. She staggered back, bracing herself against a barrel. With a racking sob Renny shoved past her, clambering across the wagon seat to the ground.
Ashleen heard the soft pounding of his bare feet against the grass, heard Cooley's welcoming whicker from where the horse was picketed nearby.
Ash stood frozen in shock, feeling as if the world had suddenly crumbled from beneath her. Oh, God, there had been such pain in the boy's voice, such stark devastation in those belligerent eyes.
Had he suspected... realized what had happened beneath the shelter of the lean-to?
Did he know...
Bile rose in Ashleen's throat, and she pressed her hand to her mouth.
What in God's name had she done?
"S-Sister Ash."
Shevonne's voice. Timid. Tentative in a way it had never been before. Guilt boiled deep inside Ashleen. She tried to keep from crying, tried to keep her distress from showing in her voice and frightening the children further.
"What is it, Shevonne?"
"Meggie, Sister Ash. She... well, she just wet the bed."
Ash fought the urge to break into hysterical laughter. "Get her out of her wet things. I'll go heat up some water from the stream to wash her."
"I think maybe you should leave the water cool, Sister Ash. Meggie's hot already. Real hot."
Ash dragged a hand wearily across her eyes. "That's impossible. It's so cool in here I'm chilled..."
Chilled.
Ash stilled, then turned, her heart thudding crazily. She made her way to the bed, reaching past Shevonne to touch the child beside her.
The instant Ashleen's fingers skimmed Meggie's soft cheek, dread shot through Ash. She had done battle with a half-dozen childhood ailments since she had gathered these children together. Dealt with them calmly, competently.
Why was panic thrumming through her veins? Why was she drowning in memories of those hellish hours she had spent in the Kearny cottier's hut, with Moira's sweet face bloating with fever, her cries growing weaker and weaker until they were lost altogether in her tiny daughter's sobs?
No, those terrible hours had nothing to do with whatever was ailing the child now. A few hours ago Meggie had lain asleep on Garret's bedroll, wrapped up so cozily, so serenely, an ocean away from the horror of road fever, starvation, death.
Ash had tucked the girl back into the wagon herself. Meggie had been fine. Fine.
But there was so much heat radiating from the child's small body, and she lay listless.
"Mary, Mother of God." Ash swept Meggie up into her arms, fighting to quell the terror roiling up inside her. "Shevonne, run and get Mr. MacQuade. Hurry now, for the love of heaven."
Ash caught a glimpse of Liam's fear-white face as Shevonne scrambled from beneath the covers, eyes wide as she darted to the end of the wagon. Shevonne leapt out into the first rays of dawn, her high-pitched cries exacerbating Ashleen's own abounding panic.
It seemed an eternity before she heard the heavy thud of boot soles coming near, Garret's worried face appearing at the back of the wagon. Ash wanted to run to him, cling to him, beg him to make it right.
"Ash? What the devil's wrong?" He was shaken, too; she could feel it, his unease feeding her own blazing terror.
"It's Meggie," she choked out, a dozen prayers racing through her mind. "Sweet God in heaven, Garret, she's burning up with fever."
Chapter Fifteen
In one swift movement Garret swung up into the wagon, taking Meggie into his arms. His large, long-fingered hands moved over the child, examining her with a gentle capability that Ashleen had never suspected he possessed. He spoke softly, soothingly to the tiny, fever-hazed girl, a hooded expression in those wolf-gray eyes.
