“What do you know about how we did in town?”
“I asked a couple of folks.”
She crossed her arms. Folks who would have pitied her. Or looked down their noses on Charlie for him being half Comanche, and illegitimate. “You’ve been busy.”
“Jeb wouldn’t have expected anything less of me.” He scrubbed his hand over his smoothly shaved jaw. “I’m no expert at ranching, but I know you and Charlie…that it’ll take more than two people to get this place up and going and keep it running.”
She glared at him. Friend or not, who was this man to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? She’d spent the entire war listening tocould nots. “If I need help, I’ll hire it when the timecomes.” As if she could afford to do any such thing. She pushed up from the table and headed to the sink.
Footsteps pattered down the hall. Charlie burst into the kitchen, wobbling beneath the weight of two overloaded saddlebags. “Where should I put these, Captain?” He heaved the leather pouches onto the stone floor.
Cora gaped at him. “‘Put these’?” She jabbed her hand to her hip as she pivoted toward Ben McKenzie. “What did you say to Charlie?”
“Mr. McKenzie said I could take the saddle and the rest of the tack off.” Charlie looked from one of them to the other. “I figured he might stay a while.”
A sigh rattled through her guest. “I wouldn’t make any plans without asking you, Miss Scott. I didn’t mean for him to bring the bags inside.” He dug in his trouser pocket and motioned Charlie over. “But I’m hoping that perhaps I could board in the stables?—”
Her jaw dropped.
“Just until I finish helping fix things up. The fence needs patching and the corral, not to mention the roof…” He pressed a nickel into Charlie’s eager palm.
“Thank you, Mr. McKenzie.” Charlie grinned.
The nerve of the man. She marched over, half tempted to snatch the money from the boy’s hand. “You can’t just invite yourself…” She bit her lip. He practically owned half the place as of today. But she wasn’t going to have some man she hardly knew taking over her life. She wasn’t a damsel in distress. “Charlie and I can take care of the fixing up.”
Charlie gaped at her.
Ben McKenzie shot her that look again, as if she were an ignorant child. “I don’t mean to impose.” He swallowed hard. “Staying in town at Mammie Syke’s place will suit me fine. I can ride out…”
He lifted his gaze to hers. Troubled eyes, tired, too shiny, feverish. His skin had paled further beneath his shimmering of a tan since his arrival. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “I just need to rest a bit.”
Her temper dissipated. “Are you all right?”
He massaged his fingers over his mouth and chin. “Just tired. It was a long trip. And I haven’t taken time to rest since I arrived in town.”
Hadn’t taken the time because he’d been busy rescuing her. She winced. His look was too much like her mother’s before they carried her to bed…for the last time. Cora’s heart stuttered. “You don’t look well.” She turned to the sink and grabbed the pitcher and a clean cup. What kind of sister was she? Berating the man her brother had sent in his stead.
Ben swallowed the water, savoring its cooling effect as it flowed past his parched lips and down his throat.
Charlie frowned. The untucked left side of his flannel shirt flapped over the top of his patched trousers as he wiggled. “Did you travel on a boat? Maybe you’re seasick.”
Ben tried to smile at the gray-eyed boy, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. “Two boats, a train, and a stagecoach.” If only the cymbals between his temples would stop clashing. Elbows on the table, he slid his fingers and palms over his face, blocking out the light. Had he answered Miss Scott’s question about him not feeling well? “It’s nothing I won't get over. I was…feeling poorly before I left Pennsylvania.” Feeling poorly ever since he’d set foot in a prison camp. His innards and soul shackled still. “I felt it best to continue my journey and rest up when I got here.” He swallowed back acid. If he didn’t find hima spot to lie down and soon, he’d likely empty the contents of his stomach all over Miss Scott’s floor.
“Come on, Cora. You’ve got to let him stay.” Charlie shifted from one foot to the other. The paper crinkled. “What’s this?”
“Never you mind.” She confiscated the note. “I want you to fetch Captain McKenzie a mattress from the loft.”
Ben massaged his eyes, shutting out the howl for laudanum that crept up his spine and into his skull. “I don’t need anything fancy, just a bit of straw to lie on in a stable. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“We’ll fix you up a bed in the room over the stables. Our ranch hands used to sleep there.” Her voice had softened from the rumble of thunder to the quiet pitter-patter of a spring rain. “Do you need a doctor? I could ride to town.”
“No.” The last thing he needed was a doctor. He opened his eyes to blue irises as soothing to his fevered being as the water had been to his throat. “Thank you for offering. Just a place to sleep and a little water would suit me fine. I can pay you for the room and boa?—”
“You’ll do no such thing.” She swatted at his hand. “Now, you sit here until we get the room ready.” She bent down to pick up the saddlebags.
“I’ll carry those.” The chair scraped against the stone as he stood with effort. His head spun.
“I don’t mind.” She lifted the swollen leather pouches off the floor.
