“No.” She stiffened. “Mr. McKenzie isn’t feeling well.”
“Talking to me might make him feel better.” He hopped on one foot. “He says he likes it when I visit.”
Cora let out a huff and heaved the full bucket off the hook and onto the stone wall of the well. A granddaddy long legs scurried out of the way. “Not today. I want you to find some long sticks from the woodpile and whittle them into poles for the beans.”
“But, Cora, them beans ain’t going to need poles for weeks.” He dug his toe into the dirt. “And Ben promised me I?—”
“I don’t care what he promised you.” She pointed toward the furrowed garden. “Do as you’re told.”
Charlie’s whole demeanor drooped.
She clasped his shoulders and lowered her forehead to his. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. Ben’s too sick for visitors.”
Slowly, his stiff body relaxed beneath her hold.
“What’s wrong with him?” The boy backed up a step when she released him. “He ain’t going….to …?” His lip trembled.
“No, he’s not going to die.” She swiped a lock of hair from Charlie’s forehead.
He pushed her hand away. “You said you were going to get him medicine.”
“I did, but it was the wrong kind. I’ll go to town again tomorrow and see if the doctor’s around. Ask his advice.”
“I want to see Ben.”
A sigh rattled through her. “Later. You can take him his supper.” She waved at him. “If you make good progress on the bean poles.”
He shot out a breath that vibrated both lips. “If you say so.” He pivoted on his heels, hands in his pockets, casting a furtiveglance at the stables. “There might be some poles in one of the stalls.”
“No.” She pointed to the woodpile and picked up the bucket as Charlie meandered his way to his chores.
A flock of robins dotted the patch of bluebonnets down toward the creek. But Cora’s glower held tight as she hurried her steps to the stables.
She jolted to a halt as she crossed the threshold. Ben had come downstairs. He sat on the bench, his blanket wrapped around him and his head against the stall wall. Bits of straw clung to his stockinged feet. She would have guessed he was asleep if it wasn’t for his right leg jigging up and down as if he were running a race. Her swallow caught in her throat. He wasn’t well… He looked…vulnerable…someone in need of?—
A board creaked beneath her foot. His eyes flew open. That same haggard look.
“I’m sorry, Cora.” He pushed himself up on unsteady legs.
She pressed her lips together and picked up her pace. Water sloshed from the bucket onto her skirt as she headed for the stairs. “I’m cleaning. Don’t come up.”
“Thank you.” His voice sank. “I’ll repay you. I know you probably don’t understand?—”
“I understand plenty. And I don’t want your money.” She spit out the words. How dare he come here with this kind of secret and get her and Charlie used to his company, get her to care?
Heart weary, Ben sat on his bunk, cupping his soup bowl in his hands. He’d paced for two hours after Cora cleaned his room, every fiber in his beingstirred by the close encounter with what his body craved more than food or even water.
Charlie sat a few feet away in Cora’s usual spot, the cane-bottom chair. He rolled a canvas ball from one hand to the other. Too quiet. Did he know what had transpired?
“Aren’t you going to eat?” The boy tossed the ball and caught it.
Wrapped in a blanket, Ben settled back against the wall and stirred the spoon in his broth. “Did Cora say anything to you about me today?”
Charlie shrugged. “Just that you were sick and didn’t feel like visiting.”
At least she’d spared him from losing the boy’s respect. “Do you suppose she’ll come up this evening?” Foolish question. Of course she wouldn’t. How would he rest tonight without a glimpse of her smile or lake-blue eyes or without hearing the soothing sound of her voice as she read? Her presence eased the grating of his bones and the gnawing turmoil in his gut.
“Nope.” Charlie wiggled his knees toward each other and then away, in and out. “Says she has too much work to do.” He knitted his brow. “Did you make her mad?”
