Deadshot placed the back of his hand on the kid’s forehead, and as expected, he was starting to build a fever.
“We’ve got water now,” Deadshot told the kid. “Sit up just a little so that you can drink some.”
The kid really didn’t look well, but hopefully, he would perk up at the mention of water. Deadshot placed an arm around his shoulder and helped him sit up. “Here you go,” he said, holding a glass to the kid’s mouth.
The kid took a small sip at first, but as soon as the cool liquid hit his throat, he grabbed onto the cup with his free hand and gulped down the rest. Deadshot did not try to stop him. The water would help.
“Is there more?” the kid asked.
“There sure is.” Deadshot handed him another cup full. “Maybe drink it a little slower.”
The kid sipped the water. “How much did you find?”
Deadshot smiled. “We broke through the waterbed. There’s as much as we need.”
When he was done drinking, the kid lay back down again. Deadshot wet a neckerchief, folded it, and placed it on the kid’s head. Despite the desert’s soaring temperature, the water was cold since it came from underground. Deadshot was hoping that it would help break the kid’s fever before it got any worse.
“Try to get some sleep,” he told him. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
“Okay,” the kid agreed, closing his eyes.
It took a while for the kid to finally fall asleep, which made sense considering how much pain he was in. When he did finally drift off, Deadshot inspected his hand more closely. It looked a lot like the sting he had gotten many years ago, and he hoped that the kid would pull through just like he had.
There wasn’t much more he could do, and since the kid was resting, it was time for Deadshot to finally have some water. He opened one of the canteens and gulped it all down in one go. The cold liquid caused his throat to ache but sent new life pulsing through his body. He instantly felt invigorated.
He really had no idea how long the kid would feel sick. And since they were going to spend the night there, he started a fire. Once the fire was going, he put some water to boil and then decided to wash himself while he waited. Deadshot had learned a long time ago to take advantage of the little things in life. The water felt great against his hot, dry skin. It had been so long since he could freely take a pause that, for a couple of minutes, he completely forgot about the water on the fire.
He had dug himself a little section where he could sit without making the rest of the water dirty. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared about such things, but the water was filling the river from below, and he didn’t want to waste any of it unnecessarily. They still needed to drink the water, and the kid might want to wash himself when he felt better, too.
The sun beat down on his skin, but Deadshot chose to ignore it. Instead, he concentrated on how the cold water felt. He was worried about the kid, worried about finding the kid’s mother and sister, and worried about his own body. Physically, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and lay back for a few minutes, trying to calm his nerves.
Soon enough, the water started turning warm, and he decided that it was time to get dressed and check on the kid again. Realizing that he had forgotten about the pot of water, Deadshot quickly added some more to replace the water that had evaporated and then added some coffee beans. He desperately needed coffee. It always helped to ease his worries and make the world look a little brighter.
The kid was still sleeping, so Deadshot sipped on his coffee and watched as the sun set. It was beautiful, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. Next to him, the kid stirred and moaned in his sleep. Deadshot removed the neckerchief and felt his head again. He was still burning up. With a sigh of frustration, he wet the neckerchief with cold water again and placed it back on the kid’s head. “You’re going to be okay. You have to be.”
Deadshot did not get any sleep. He watched the kid throughout the night, refusing to fall asleep in case the kid needed him. He was tired, but it didn’t matter. He’d been tired many times before. Since he had retired, Deadshot had managed to sleep more and better, but while he was bounty hunting, there were often times that called for him to stay awake for long periods. This was one of those times.
The kid woke a few times throughout the night, and although Deadshot knew that he had to eat, he simply couldn’t keep anything down. Deadshot had made oats and tried to feed the kid some, but that did not go well. Then he tried some canned meat that he warmed up. That went worse. The only thing the kid could keep down was water, so Deadshot simply gave him cold water every time he woke.
Deadshot had eaten the food the kid didn’t want and drank a lot of coffee. More than what was healthy, probably, but it kept him awake and alert. The last thing he wanted was to start hallucinating.
Chapter 37
“It’s time,” Quincy said as he walked into the bedroom.
Both Isabelle and Sarah were sitting on Sarah’s bed. They had been trying to figure out what to do, but they had been unable to come up with any solution. The only thing that Isabelle could think of was for Sarah to try to get help once she and Quincy left. Maybe if she could tell somebody what was going on, they would help her and possibly come to rescue Isabelle. That was dangerous, though. If she went against Quincy and he found out, he would surely kill her.
So there was no other way. The idea of Sarah having to spend the rest of her life as Quincy’s wife was devastating to Isabelle, and Sarah had told her that she refused to do that. She might live, but it would be no life. No, she had said once she got the chance, she would try to get help for herself and for Isabelle.
Sarah was being extremely brave, but it terrified Isabelle that her daughter was in that situation. Quincy had made it clear that he was going to take Sarah away and that he wanted to marry her. That was the only thing they knew, though. Theyhad no idea where he was planning to go or what their living arrangements would be like. It was possible that he could take her somewhere else and lock her up again.
All they knew was that Quincy meant it when he said those words. Sarah turned to Isabelle and hugged her.
“I won’t forget you,” Sarah whispered.
Isabelle returned her daughter’s hug, never wanting to let go.
“That’s enough of that,” Quincy said, placing a hand on Sarah’s shoulder and pulling her away from Isabelle.
