White Horse grasped his arm and turned, then started swimming back toward the shore.
She had to get down to them. She needed to be there to help when Grant came out of the water. How much liquid had he swallowed?
She moved to her hands and knees and peered over the edge of the cliff, then scanned both directions for a place she could climb down.
There. She sprang to her feet and sprinted downstream to a narrow path the animals had made to the water. She slid her way down the steep trail and reached the bottom just as White Horse emerged from the water, half-dragging Grant.
She scrambled toward them to help White Horse lay Grant on his side on the thin strip of rocky dirt. His eyes were open, but glassy and not focused. His body heaved with every breath.
But at least he was breathing.Thank you, God.
THIRTEEN
Faith knelt on one side of Grant as White Horse sank to the ground on the other, his own chest heaving as he caught his breath.
Grant coughed, then turned more fully onto his side as his body ratcheted with a spasm. A second cough came, bringing a squirt of water from his mouth. He coughed once more, then again and again, struggling onto his hands and knees as the fit consumed his body. Splashes of water spewed with some of the heaves.
She could do nothing to help him, so she rested her hands on both of his sides to keep him from toppling with the force of each retch. Had the water entered his lungs? Would it bring on pneumonia or something more permanent?
At last, Grant’s coughs subsided, and he sank back onto his side. He’d begun to shiver now, and no wonder, with his clothes soaked with icy river water.
She glanced around them. She should have thought to bring blankets instead of sliding empty-handed down the slope.
“I throw blanket down.” White Horse stood, reading her mind. “We camp here. I start fire. Hot water.”
She sent him a grateful look. “Thank you. I’ll stay with him and help him get warm.”
“I’m all right.” Grant opened his eyes and moved one arm like he was going to push himself up to sitting. His elbow trembled with that small action.
She laid a hand on the arm. “Rest until we have a blanket. Then you can sit up to wrap in it and get warm.”
White Horse strode to the trail she’d used to descend.
Grant’s teeth were chattering now, so she scooted closer to wrap her arm over his side. “You can share my warmth until the blanket comes.”
His arm dropped against his body, and she half wondered if he would wrap it around her waist, as she was doing with him. Should she recommend he do so? She couldn’t quite bring herself to do something so forward, even when he was suffering from such cold.
She didn’t breathe much as she waited for White Horse to call from overhead. She was practically hugging Grant, after all. They’d never been this close, not for anything longer than the second it took him to save her that day they first met.
Maybe that was a memory that would distract him from his misery. She smiled. “This reminds me of that first time I saw you, when you helped me at the waterfall.”
He let out a hoarse chuckle that turned into a wheeze.
Perhaps best he didn’t speak, so she offered another comment. “It seems the two of us aren’t very safe around water.”
He didn’t offer a response, and she couldn’t see his face from this angle. Should she find something else to say?
A call from above saved her the struggle. “Blanket.”
She scrambled to her feet and moved to catch the coverlet as it fluttered down. This was one of Grant’s wool counterpanes that looked like the kind men purchased in St. Louis when they outfitted themselves to go west.
White Horse appeared again with another, this time a folded fur from his own belongings. She stepped to the side so she wasn’t under the heavy elk skin, but caught it with her outstretched hands. “Thank you.”
With her arms full, she turned back to Grant. He sat up, leaning against the rock wall, and reached for them. He looked more alert now, though his wet hair stuck out in odd angles.
She handed him the wool blanket and helped him wrap it around his shoulders. Then she draped the warm fur over his legs.
“Thanks.” His voice was still hoarse from the coughing. Or maybe something worse. Could pneumonia set in this quickly?
