“No.” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended. “No, thank you. Rest, and broth, and plenty of water should set me on the right course.” Provided he could keep it down.
Her brow furrowed. “We’ll see.” She fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “I’ll be praying for your quick recovery.”
He needed all the prayers he could get. He curled his fingers around the cup and drew it to his lips once more. “If you need to hire a ranch hand to help out until I’m up and around?—”
“We’ll wait for you. Charlie and I can manage until then.”
Wait on him? He closed his eyes and savored the thought. She’d decided to accept his help.
“Benjamin?”
His full-given name on her lips leached the tension from his shoulders. “Yes?”
“Did Jeb…I’ve got to ask…did he pass away due to a stomach ailment?”
He sucked in a breath. Was she being kind to him because she was afraid he’d die like her brother? His lungs deflated. “This isn’t Andersonville. In that place, with the green corn mixed with husks they fed us, when they fed us at all, and making us sleep in the open”—unless one dug a hole to crawl into—“one could pass away from a sore throat and cough. But your brother was strong. He made it almost to the end.”
Jeb could have escaped if it hadn’t been for him. What would Cora think if she knew the whole story?
She stood up. Was there moisture in her eyes? “Well, just so you know…I’ve already lost more family than I can count on one hand. So don’t you go dying on me, Ben McKenzie. You’re all I have left of Jeb.”
So that was it.
She reached for his cup. “I’ll fill it up once more, and then you can tuck yourself in and get some sleep.” The hem of her green plaid skirt swished against the floorboards as she strode over to the copper kettle. “If you need Charlie or me to sit with you tonight, or sleep down below just in case you have need?—”
“I’ll be fine on my own, Miss Scott.”
It made sense that she was doing all of this for Jeb. Better that than just out of obligation for the land. She hardly knew Ben, after all.
So why did it bother him?
CHAPTER 6
Cora settled onto the cane-bottom chair a couple of feet from the bunk and opened her leather-covered Bible. As she read about the prophet Samuel traveling to Bethlehem in search of God’s newly chosen king, the honks of migrating geese carried in through the window. Last night after supper, she’d moved her reading time with Charlie to the stable loft, figuring company would offer Ben a welcome distraction. This evening, they’d eaten supper there, as well. No use sitting in her kitchen worrying about the man when she could be here doing something.
Charlie sat on the stool, elbows on his knees, eager to hear the account of the boy David once again.
Ben stretched out on the bunk, his forearm over his eyes and her mother’s quilt tucked beneath his armpits. She’d finally convinced him it wasn’t a crime for him to lie down in her presence. He could play the gentleman after he gained his strength. Four days of rest, yet his coloring had not returned. If anything, the dark circles under his eyes had deepened, and his face appeared thinner.
Charlie wiggled. “Cora, you got to keep reading. What happened when Samuel looked at all of the brothers, and God said no to each one? Maybe David was out killing a lion.”
Ben peeked from beneath his arm. His hazel gaze studied her, sending flutters into her belly that had no business being there. “I want to hear about the lion.”
She smiled. “Well, I think he was just out watching the sheep. His father and brothers didn’t think he was important enough to bring in from the fields to see the prophet.”
Charlie perked up. “David killed a lion and a bear. You told me so.”
“Yes, he did to protect his sheep. But that was a different day.”
“Protecting sheep is mighty important work.” Ben pushed the quilt down to his waist.
He was doing it again. Throwing the covers off and then tugging them back on an hour later. His fever came and went. Yet the man kept his suspenders tight on his shoulders and his shirt tucked despite its array of wrinkles. Trying to maintain a proper appearance because of her?
Charlie tilted his head. “How about buffalo? Did any of them try to hurt the baby sheep?”
“No buffalo in the Promised Land.” She turned the page.
“Why not?”
