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“A full bowl of soup, under Mrs. Arden’s supervision.”

“Good. She’s scarier than Nate.”

“She would be pleased to hear it.”

Jesse’s fingers shifted across the blanket until they rested beside her hand.

Eden let her little finger touch his.

After a moment, he covered her hand with his.

Neither mentioned it. Rain ran down the window while the clinic settled into its evening hush.

“Read,” Jesse said, keeping hold of her hand.

Eden opened the book with her free hand and began.

Chapter Eleven

Jesse had been listening to the rain for the better part of an hour. It beat against the clinic windows, hard enough to drown out the occasional wagon passing in the street.

Bass and Beau were somewhere near the south crossing with Whit and Marshal Davis. Simon was doing whatever Simon does, but Jesse doubted his brother would stay put once he learned what the others had found.

He shoved the blanket away with his left hand.

His right leg refused even the courtesy of shifting.

“Don’t start,” Nate said from the doorway.

Jesse hadn’t heard him come in. “Fetch my boots.”

“What for?”

“Thought I’d take a stroll.”

“In this weather?” Nate set a fresh lamp on the washstand. “You’d track mud all through Carolina’s clean floor.”

“Any word from Whit?”

“Not yet.”

“And Bass and Beau?”

“They’re riding with him. They know the crossing.”

“Knowing it won’t help much if the bank gives way.”

Nate adjusted the lamp’s wick. “They aren’t going in blind, Jess. Whit knows what he’s doing.”

Jesse pressed his left palm against the mattress. The old mill road ran through the draw above the crossing. If Rusk’s men wanted to move horses there, a storm would give them good cover and poor footing. A rider could lose his mount in that water after a hard rain.

“They ought to wait till morning.”

“The women warned us they might move tonight.”

“Didn’t say my brothers ought to go after them.”

“Whit is leading the search.”