“You want me to stomp?” He smiled briefly at the cross look she gave him. “Now, answer the question, please.”
She explained what she had learned from her father and his books. “I just thought it might work to stop the fever from rising.”
“Seems to be working,” he murmured after checking Matthew over. “You found no hint of infection at the wound sites?”
“No. All his wounds look as good as something like that can.”
“Good. I best get back to my patient. It might be wise to do that only now and then.”
She nodded, tempted to ask why, only to see that he had already gone back to his other patient. Abigail thought hard about his advice and decided to follow it even though he had given her no reason for it. She could think of several but did not have the medical knowledge to know if she was right. Using each rag to wash down a part of him, she removed the strips of cloth.
Tossing the cloths into the bucket of water, she checked Matthew for any sign of his fever. It was still there but had lessened considerably. Abigail doubted he was cured of his fever, but a respite from it could only help him heal. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her. In his eyes was a cloudiness that told her he was not yet free of the fever’s effects even if his skin had cooled.
“Sorry, Abbie, I must have fallen into a wee nap.” He winced and rubbed at his forehead. “I dinnae suppose ye have anything for the ache in my head.”
“A cold cloth,” she said, picking a rag out of the bucket, wringing it out, and slapping it on his forehead. “If it still troubles you after this, I can rub it. That sometimes helps.”
“Anything to stop this throbbing.”
Abigail sat at the head of the bed, gently settled his head in her lap, and waited a few moments before moving the damp rag and beginning to rub his temples. The lines of pain on his face began to smooth out and she knew he was falling asleep. She waited, continuing to rub his forehead but with lessening firmness, until she was sure he had fallen asleep. Then she grimaced as she tried to get off the bed without waking him. She was beginning to think she was stuck until he woke up again when she was grasped under the arms and neatly pulled out then set down on her feet. Looking over her shoulder, she found a grinning James standing behind her.
“Looked like you were stuck,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“No trouble, pigeon.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“You are on the small side and you do wear gray a lot.”
“My mother liked the color. She had a lot of gowns in that color. I stitched the gown to fit me.” She glared at her chest. “Sometimes a lot.” She ignored the soft snort of laughter James let slip.
“Is he going to sleep for a long time?”
“I hope so. He needs it. Not just for the wounds to heal but for the fever trying to settle on him. Why?”
“Well, I will keep a watch over him for a while.”
“That is very kind of you, but there is no need.”
“There is. You need to get ready to travel.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to take a journey.”
Abigail felt the twitch of a headache and rubbed at her forehead. “Again—why?”
James sighed. “He needs to go home,” he said with a nod toward Matthew. “These soldiers are all heading out to join up with the main army. Grant is gathering all the men he can. God knows why. So our officer has decided we will all go. But Boyd and Matt will be sent to Matt’s family to finish their healing.”
“Why do I need to go?”
“You have to drive the wagon so I can keep a close watch over Matt and Boyd if there is trouble.”
“Dan,” she began.
“Nope. He wants to go with the major. Seems he has family in the same direction they are going and thinks he might get to see them for a bit.”
