In his haste to pack and come to Texas, he’d forgotten to include a picture of his almost-betrothed. Now as he tried to summon her image in his mind’s eye, her facial features and form came readily enough, but his heart was as unmoved as a wooden block. Once it had not been so. During his time at Belle Isle and the early days of Andersonville, he’d pined for Olivia. But his dreams of her had faded as everything within him shriveled up. The man who loved Olivia had not returned from prison. Would he ever?
Charlie’s voice ceased. Footsteps clicked against the floorboards. Ben shot up to a sit, sending his head reeling. He closed his eyes a moment before refocusing on Cora standing there, staring at him. Her hair was coiled in a loose braid at the base of her neck.
She frowned. A not-quite-white apron covered her green dress. She’d rolled her undersleeves to her elbows, more forearm than he was used to seeing on any female other than a child or servant. But then, this was the frontier, not Philadelphia. “I came to see what happened to Charlie.”
Ben braced himself to stand. “Sorry about that. I should have sent him?—”
“Stay put.” She touched his shoulder. “I’ll fetch you some broth.”
Warmth pooled in the spot of their connection. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
She jutted a hand on her hip. “The only trouble you’re putting me to is making me wonder if I need to ride to town and fetch a doctor to make sure you listen and take care of yourself.”
He settled back against the wall and gazed up at her. Who was he to say no to Cora looking after him for a few days? He would make it up to her. “I’m at your command, Miss Scott.”
She blinked at him, flustered as a bird fluffing her wings. A slight blush colored her cheeks. “If only that were true, I’m sure the ranch would run smoother.”
He cocked his eyebrows. “We’ll see about that when I’m up and around.” His cracked lips hurt with his extended attempt at pleasantries. “But for clarification, the duration of your queenship is only until I’m feeling better.”
“I imagined as much, Mr. McKenzie. I’ll be surprised if it lasts that long.” She turned toward the door. “Come along, Charlie. You don’t want to wear our guest out.”
“He’s no trouble.” Ben’s eyelids drifted closed. “I don’t mind occasional company. But it’s Ben, not Mr. McKenzie.”
“Ben?” Charlie perked up.
“Mr. McKenzie to you,” Cora corrected. “Come fetch your supper.”
The notes of the mockingbird scratched against the cymbals in his head. Maybe a shot of whiskey would dull the pain. Or would that stir up a new craving? His thoughts drifted…
Cool fingers touched Ben’s forehead. He jerked awake.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Cora’s voice smoothed over him. “I brought you some broth.” She stepped back, her brow furrowed.
Had it only been a few minutes? He sat up from the wall and drew the quilt around him. Quilt? He’d only had a blanket before, but now the colorful star-patterned quilt lay across his lap. “I’d appreciate a bit of broth. If you could, leave it?—”
“I’ll do no such thing.” She scooted the stool next to the bed and sat, holding a large cup in her hands. A copper kettle rested on the table across the room. “I figured you could drink it from a cup. Do you need me to hold it?”
The din in his head settled as his gaze dropped into hers. “I can manage.” He reached out, and she slipped the container of steaming broth into his cold hands.
The delicious aroma wafted toward his nose. He blew the golden surface, sending ripples across to the other side.
“I brought you a slice of bread too.” Cora tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. “Charlie and I ate our dinner, and I put the rest of the chicken in the springhouse. You can have some of the meat tomorrow.”
“I’m much obliged.” He sipped. “Delicious.” Fit for a king. He slowly polished off half the cup, savoring every sip.
Cora leaned forward. “So are you going to tell me what you believe is wrong with you?”
He half choked, coughing the soup back up from his windpipe.
She reached out as if she might pat him on the back. “You all right?”
He nodded and wiped his mouth. Best deflect. “I’m sure there’s a number of things wrong with me, Miss Scott. I have more than my share of faults.” The corners of his mouth edged upward.
She waved her hand at him. “You know I’m talking about your illness. I’m worried about you.” Her voice wobbled, going straight to his heart.
He lowered the cup to his lap. “A stomach ailment. Started at Andersonville.” That much was true. The doctor had given him the laudanum for his stomach. What if his digestive system couldn’t function any other way? “Traveling must have aggravated it.” Not a complete lie. But not the truth either.
She bit her lip. “I could fetch the doctor tomorrow.”
