What was he going to do about it?
CHAPTER 4
Naomi fumbled the last slice of potato, which bounced off the side of the stewpot before plopping inside. With her insides in such turmoil and her hands trembling, it was a wonder she hadn't cut herself chopping the vegetables. Her thoughts, like her midsection, refused to settle. The heat from the cookstove didn't help any, making her shirtwaist cling to her sweat-dampened underarms and back.
She glanced at Mary Ellen, who sat on the rug, stacking another block onto her growing tower.
Running Woman was watching from the rocking chair, a smile curving the lines at her eyes. She and her husband would stay until Two Stones and Heidi returned from Fort Benton, then ride on to their village with them.
The older woman had been such a help while Dinah and the others were away. A diligent guardian, even with Mary Ellen's constant activity.
Eric had simply arrived at the worst of moments earlier. That new mare had jumped the corral fence again, and since Mary Ellen and Running Woman had both been sleeping soundly, Naomi had gone out to catch the horse and put herback in the pen. She'd never expected sweet Pepper, the gangly mule Jericho had purchased to stay with the cattle and protect them, to start up a kicking fit. Clearly, the donkey felt the need to protect herself from the new mare.
Of course, the horse had been determined to escape the beating.
Naomi should have released the gate sooner, but her instincts had pushed her to keep the animal in.
She'd not had the chance to explain any of that to Eric, though perhaps it wouldn't have altered his thinking about her mothering abilities. He probably would have said she should have left the horse alone until one of the men returned to catch it.
And maybe she should have.
She let out a sigh as she stirred the soup. Being a parent was a constant barrage of decisions, and no matter what she chose, she always second-guessed herself. Should she ignore Mary Ellen’s occasional temper tantrums so as not to reward the action with her attention? Or should she reprimand the child, making sure she knew such behavior wasn't good?
"What can I do to help?" Dinah stepped up beside her.
Naomi hadn't even heard her sister come in the front door. She should have been more aware. Maybe Eric was right about her not being a good protector.
Naomi motioned toward the cloth covering the warm bread on the work counter. “Could you slice that loaf?"
Dinah reached for a knife, then lifted the fabric to release the savory scent of sourdough. Simply having another person in the kitchen, helping bear the load, eased some of the tension in Naomi's shoulders. As she stirred the stew, she let her gaze linger on Dinah's work, the knife slicing through the bread with a practiced hand, each piece falling neatly beside the one before it.
The tower of blocks succumbed to the height,tumbling, and Mary Ellen giggled. The familiar sights and sounds and smells should make her feel better, but they reminded her of what was at stake.
Jonah had been hurt—Dinah mentioned a broken nose—but he insisted it was nothing more than the weariness of their journey that sent him to bed early. It was clear he wanted to be alone, so she'd not followed him out to the bunkhouse to make sure he was comfortable.
He'd been injured trying to protect her. Should she have insisted on doing more to help him?
She hadn’t actuallyneededprotecting. Not from Eric. She could stand up for herself. He wouldn't hurt her, and though his superior attitude had grated, his words hadn’t actually harmed her.
Where was Eric now? Wandering the mountains? What if he'd been hurt badly? What if he was lying in the woods somewhere, curled in pain and unable to care for himself?
Jonah had all his brothers and Dinah and Naomi, not to mention a roof over his head, and a fire in the hearth, and someone to deliver him food and drink.
Who did Eric have? What if he wasn’t all right?
"What are you thinking, Na?" Dinah's voice pressed into her thoughts.
Tears pricked her eyes at the thought of putting to words these awful possibilities. Perhaps Dinah could help, though. She inhaled a breath. "What if Eric is hurt? What if he needs help?"
Dinah was quiet a minute as she sliced the last of the loaf. When she spoke, her words came softly. "I've been wondering the same thing." She didn't look at Naomi, but her tone was thoughtful as she arranged the pieces on a platter. "He took some hard blows to his head and abdomen. That last one especially—it may have cracked ribs."
Naomi's own middle tightened. "But he walked away. That's a good sign, isn't it?" Though Jonah had started the fisticuffs,Eric had done nothing to stop the violence. Even if Dinah didn't approve of the fight, at least her doctor's concern kept her from being prejudiced against him. She could trust her sister to want the best for him—physically, at least.
"True." Dinah's word emerged slowly. "A broken rib would be painful, but it would heal without the need for help. As long as the rib doesn't puncture internal organs."
Panic gripped Naomi's chest. "How do we know if that's happened?"
Dinah put a hand on her arm. "It’s unlikely."
