It was when Ashleen at last climbed out, Meggie in her arms, that Renny emerged from amid the livestock, his face blotchy from crying, his eyes glittering with hurt and defiance.
"Movin' up with MacQuade altogether?" he challenged.
Ashleen met the boy's gaze levelly, her voice quiet. "I'm taking Meggie up to the lean-to for a while. She's sick."
His face whitened. "S-sick?"
Ash's heart went out to the boy. "She has a bit of a fever."
"So leave her in her bed." Darts of terror and guilt were in Renny's eyes as he glanced up at the bustling of Shevonne, Liam, and Garret. "She—she'll get scared up there without me. Won't—won't you Meggie?" Renny reached out shaky fingers, awkwardly stroking at Meggie's dark hair.
Ash's eyes stung. "I'll be with her, Renny. I promise she won't be... afraid."
"Then let me stay up there, too! I'll tell her stories an'—an' sponge her off, an'—an' I can go fetch whatever you need, Sister Ash."
Tears trembled on Ashleen's lashes, the earnest, guilt-ridden expression on Renny's features driving like a fist into her stomach. "I can't have you getting sick, too. We all depend on you, Renny. And I'll need you to—to help Mr. MacQuade with the others."
At the mention of Garret's name Renny stiffened, his eyes swimming with betrayal. "I won't, Sister Ash! Won't help that no-good—"
Ashleen heard the crunching of boot soles and looked up to see Garret approaching, his mouth set, firm with what she sensed was a shading of hurt. But when he spoke his voice brooked no argument. "You'll do whatever needs to be done, boy. Like the rest of us. And you won't make this any harder on Sister—er—on Ashleen by going into one of your temper fits."
Renny's chin jutted up, hands knotted in fists. "You can't tell me what to do! Only Sister Ashleen can."
"Renny, please," Ashleen put in. "I need you to be strong now. Meggie needs you to be strong. Shevonne and Liam are scared to death. And Mr. MacQuade isn't going to know how to help them. You have to."
Renny's face twisted. "I don't care! I'm goin' up there with Meggie an'—"
In a sudden, swift movement Garret had the boy by the shirt, those daunting gray eyes boring into Renny's belligerent ones. "Enough, boy."
Ash started to object, but neither of the two heard her as Garret went on.
"I know damn well you'd just as soon cut me down with that Hawkin as look at me. Truth to tell, I don't much like you either. Especially when you're acting like a damn wolf with his foot in a trap. But we're both just going to have to get hold of our tempers and do what has to be done here, like it or not. Understood?"
Renny didn't speak, but it seemed that his silence was answer enough for Garret. "Now, boy, you go to the creek and fill up a bucket. Then run and fetch some brushwood. Build up a nice hot fire by the shelter, and put a pot of coffee on to warm for Sister Ash."
"I know enough to heat up the water. I'm not stupid."
"I'd say your problem is you're too smart by a damn sight," Garret grated.
With a parting scowl Renny turned and dashed for the bucket.
Garret reached out, taking Meggie in his arms, his jaw knotting in an expression so like Renny's that Ashleen ached.
She rubbed her arms, still overwarm from the heat of Meggie's body, but a shiver of apprehension worked its way through her. She felt gnawing fears, not only for the feverish child being borne up to the lean-to in Garret's strong arms, but also for the man, so surprisingly vulnerable as he stomped up the hillside, and for the boy, even now dashing to the creek bank, his narrow shoulders burdened with a lifetime of rejection.
They were so much alike, Garret and Renny, Ash thought, her heart wrenching. Both hating that softer, more vulnerable part of themselves, both fighting to hide it behind an exterior so crusty no one would ever dare to slip past. Yet each in his own way had allowed her inside, trusted her to see the beauty in them, the potential for loving.
She only wished they could trust each other. But she knew instinctively they never would. Their animosity was a gulf that couldn’t be bridged. And because of that, any dreams she dared dream of a life in Garret MacQuade's arms were as ephemeral as the fantastical tales of love she had woven for the children in the still of the night.
Bewitching. Bedazzling.
Impossible.
* * *
Ash rubbedat eyes burning from lack of sleep, bone-numbing exhaustion dragging at her senses until she felt as if her whole body was weighted down with lead. How many days had it been? Five? Six? She had lost track in the endless hours Meggie's tiny body was racked with shivering so awful her teeth rattled, her throat swollen with hoarse, pitiful moans. The few times the fever had allowed her the slightest ease had been cruelly brief, only waking the little girl to more grueling hours of torment.
Ash dragged a cloth from the tepid water in the bowl at her side and, wringing out the excess moisture, smoothed it over Meggie's brow. With each day that had passed it seemed that the little girl's skin became paler, more translucent, until Ashleen could see the fragile blue veins that carried the child's lifeblood.
