No! God, he can't… You can't…
But then his eyes turned toward her, his head shifting a little.
Relief swept through her, and she sucked a breath as she dropped to her knees by his side.
His gaze followed her, but his eyes didn't seem focused. Was that from pain? Or damage to his mind? Or simply the numbing cold?
She laid a hand on his shoulder. "What happened? Where are you hurt?"
His eyes narrowed. "Abel. Knocked me." He lifted his hand slowly to his head. But even before he touched the bloodied hair, his face twisted in a sharp wince.
She leaned over him to see the far side of his head, touching his temple and turning him a little for a better view. The blood matted his hair so thickly that she couldn't see the wound. She needed to get him out of the cold before she cleaned it.
Pulling back, she studied the length of him. "Can you sit up?"
He didn't speak, just started to turn on his side so he could push upright. A groan rumbled out, and he flopped back to the snow. "My leg."
She honed her gaze on the left leg he limped on. But it was the right limb his hands moved to, clutching the upper part.
"What happened? What's wrong with it?" Where he touched showed no sign of injury, though farther down his trousers were torn—and wet from the snow.
He struggled to get his hands beneath him so he could sit up, this time not trying to roll onto his side. With her free hand, she pushed his back until he sat up with his legs straight before him.
He touched his right calf with both hands, and his breath clouded the air around him. "God, no. Not again." The words groaned out, ending in a cough, a deep rattling sound that rose up from his chest.
"We need to get you to the cabin. Is there a chance you can walk?" Or was the leg broken?
His mouth turned grim. "I'll crawl back if I have to."
She couldn't let him do that. Scanning the area, she caught sight of the mules. "Could you ride one of them to the cabin? Or maybe I could hook them to the wagon."
He shook his head. "The wagon wouldn't make it through this loose snow." He looked to the trees. "See if you can find two sturdy sticks, a little shorter than I am."
She rose and pointed for Barney to stay. “Take care of him, boy.” The dog dipped his head as though accepting the charge, then dropped to his haunches at Aaron’s side. She turned and started toward the pines. Aaron likely had experience with walking sticks. This would be the best way.
By the time she found two branches that might work, Sarah had finished nursing and Katie moved her up to her shoulder to burp. But keeping the babe covered from the cold while carrying both sticks proved more than she could manage.
Should she take Sarah back into the cabin and lay her in her crate bed? Sarah would be out of the wind and Katie would have both hands free to help Aaron. She had a feeling she would need that.
Leaving the walking sticks, she hurried through the snow to the cabin. She had to get Aaron inside. Already, his exposure to the cold and wet might be enough to threaten his life.
Sarah stared up at her with wide eyes as she laid her in the crate. Those eyes were so beautiful. Alert.
"Stay here where you'll be safe, my sweet. I'll be back soon with Aaron.” As she tucked the blanket over her daughter’s body, one more thought slipped out. “Pray for him. He might need a miracle."
Of course, the babe couldn't pray for Aaron, but he needed someone to. Katie turned and headed out the door again. Could she be the one? She and God hadn't spoken in so very long. Not since the trip west.
God, I'm not asking for me but for Aaron. Protect him. Don't let anything bad be wrong with him. Please, don't let me lose him.
With that last thought, a surge of panic forced its way up her throat, closing off her ability to breathe or even swallow. She couldn't lose another man she was depending on. Not again. This was why she wanted to take control of her life. Not to rely on others who determined her fate.
But it was more than that. The thought of losing Aaron… He'd come to mean far too much to her in such a short time. His kindness. His steadiness. The way he looked at her like he really saw her. Like what he found inside didn't repulse him.
She couldn't lose Aaron.
With that thought flowing strength through her limbs, she ran through her earlier tracks to the trees, lifting her skirts so she could raise her knees high.
In the woods, she grabbed up the walking sticks and started toward Aaron. He still sat up where she’d left him, but his shoulders had collapsed and his head hung in his hands as though he didn't have the strength in his neck to keep it upright. A knock hard enough to bring all that blood had likely left a significant headache.
