Chapter 5
Thump, thump, thump. The door rattled, sounding more like gunfire in Ben’s head than a knock.
“Hold on.” His parched tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
He blinked at the unfamiliar rafters overhead.
A loft, not the boardinghouse. Gathering his bearings, he rolled out of the bunk with its straw-stuffed mattress, his ankle bumping against the chamber pot. “Just a minute.”
Sunlight filtered in through the boards of the steepled roof and the wide-open window. The brightness assaulted his eyes as he opened the door. His head spun, and he braced himself against the doorjamb. Surely, his body would return to normal sooner or later without the laudanum.
Miss Scott stood there, a covered plate in her hands. Her eyes widened, and the small crease between her eyebrows deepened as her gaze perused him from head to toe.
He glanced down at his untucked shirt. Didn’t he have any sense at all? He shoved his shirt into the waist of his trousers and ran a hand over his tousled hair. A chill shivered through him. Fever or the results of his sweat-dampened clothes? “Morning, Miss Scott.” Didn’t feel like morning.
She pressed her lips together, stood upon tiptoes, and peered over his shoulder into the room.
He frowned. “Can I help you?”
“I came to see how you’re feeling and if you’re ready for breakfast.” The breeze, coming in through the open windows, tugged a few wisps of her chestnut hair loose and dallied them across the bridge of her nose.
The sweet scent of hay heaped on the other side of the loft mixed with the aroma of bacon and fried potatoes. Fancier fare than she could likely afford to be handing out to a guest or anyone else. His health had to improve. He had to turn this place into a real ranch. For her.
She shifted the plate closer.
“Thank you.” His stomach rumbled, but would he be able to keep it down if he ate? Whether or not he could make it down the stairs to the well and outhouse was debatable. “Perhaps you could set a little aside for me for later.”
“This is all yours.” She pushed the plate with its checkered cloth covering farther toward him.
“On second thought”—she clutched it back against her apron—“I’ll set it on the table inside your room.
I’ve got linens down below. I’ll fix the place up while you go to the well and get cleaned up for the morning. ”
He straightened. “I don’t want you to have to look after me. I’d be obliged if you could place the plate on the table, and the linens on the chair, and then don’t worry about the rest and go about your day.”
She blew out a breath. “Isn’t that exactly what I said to you yesterday, Mr. McKenzie, that I didn’t need looking after?” She waved a finger his direction. “You’d better expect I’m going to listen as well as you did.”
He blinked at her, his cracked lips fighting their way into a slight smile despite the discomfort.
She peeked over his shoulder once more. “The only question is whether you need any help carrying your chamber pot down to the necessary.”
His cheeks flamed. “I’d have to be half dead before I need help with my pot, Miss Scott.”
She flinched. “Well, you make sure that doesn’t happen, then.” She flipped a strand of hair from her eyes. “And I’ve had another thought, too, Mr. McKenzie.”
“That you’re going to call the sheriff on me if I don’t clear out by sundown?” He attempted humor beyond the misery of his head and stomach.
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I apologize for my less-than-welcoming behavior yesterday.”
“No apology required.” He shifted his weight. He needed to get down the stairs to the well and beyond.
She fidgeted. “Seeing as you’re going to be here a while, and since you’re a partial owner—”
“I’m not an own—”
“At the very least, whether or not you put your name on the deed, you’ve got a place to stay until we can start making payments to you.” She pressed her lips together. “And that being the case, and since you’re here in Jeb’s stead, I deem it only proper that I consider you…as a brother.”
He gaped at her. A brother? What a change from yesterday. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. She was welcoming him into her family. She would accept his help. He would have a chance to repay Jeb…as much as he possibly could. Warmth seeped into his chest.
She blushed. “Well, you are here in Jeb’s place, and otherwise, it wouldn’t be quite proper you staying on the ranch.” She rushed through the words as if she might change her mind if she took the time to think better of it.
Cora Scott was beautiful when she blushed. Forget that. She was just plain beautiful. Not what he should be thinking about, considering he had a girl back in Philadelphia anxiously awaiting his permission to announce their betrothal
“It’s a fine idea.” An invitation with boundaries, opening some doors while closing off others. As sick as he was, maybe his brain would actually listen. “And in light of that, you can call me Ben, and I’ll call you Cora.”
Cora moved aside and frowned as Ben made his way down the loft steps, leaning heavily on the rail.
If he got any worse, he might not be able to handle the stairs on his own.
She gnawed her lip. He’d get better, wouldn’t he?
Now that he had a chance to rest? If he had any thought of working today, she’d send him right back upstairs to his room. As if he would listen.
Had she really told him she wanted him to be her brother?
Her neck heated. The man probably thought she was tossed about as a wave.
Jumping down his throat and practically tarring and feathering him over his generosity one afternoon, and then the next morning, asking to be his sister…
But she was only trying to make right what she’d bungled yesterday. If Jeb trusted this man, she could too.
She stepped inside the open door and set Ben’s breakfast tray on the wobbly table.
The room wasn’t anything fancy. Before the war, Jackson and Burke, her father’s two hired ranch hands, had lived up here.
Now there wasn’t much, except for a bunk, a rough-hewn table and chairs, a washstand, and a few hooks for clothes.
Ben’s bulging saddlebags lay against the wall.
An undershirt poked out of the top of one.
His watch, made of shiny silver, lay next to the washbasin.
A breath shuddered through her as she pulled back the blanket that covered the bare straw tick. The upper part was damp, and so was the pillow, almost soaked. Sweat. Fever. Plus his coloring, and the smell.
His ailment went far beyond being tired.
What if he had cholera? No telling what he could have picked up in his weeks of travel.
She hugged herself, pressing her arms against her apron.
He’d come all of this way out of friendship with her beloved Jeb, who had thought of her even when his own life was at an end.
Ben was as close as she’d ever get to her brother again, this side of heaven.
Swiping her nose, she turned his pillow over.
She’d fetch the linens and make his bed up properly.
Fix the room up a bit. After what he’d done yesterday, maybe he didn’t have money to pay room and board in town.
Maybe he didn’t have enough money to travel back to Philadelphia.
What if his future as well as theirs depended upon making a go of this ranch?
The possibility gripped her as she climbed down the worn stairs. A splinter from the railing poked her index finger. A board creaked beneath her step.
Sandy nickered from her stall, and either Comet or Ben McKenzie’s rented mare responded.
Charlie scraped a shovel across the hard-packed dirt in the back of the stables, mucking out Comet’s stall. The boy loved Pa’s old gelding.
Sandy swung her head, turning her long-lashed dark eyes toward Cora.
“Good morning, girl.” Cora meandered over and rubbed her hand over the sorrel’s nose.
The shovel ceased, and Charlie’s head bobbed over the side of the stall. “I saw Mr. McKenzie. Only, he didn’t say much. Just hurried off to the privy.”
Cora picked up the sheets from where she’d laid them across the railing. “Mr. McKenzie’s not feeling the best. I’m going to tell him we don’t need any help today.”
“But he’s staying?” Charlie skipped over.
“Yes.” A smile flittered across her lips.
She’d stayed up more than half the night wrestling with the decision, but for the first time since her mama became ill, she awoke with a heart eager for the sunrise.
“For a while, I reckon.” Just as long as Ben could keep it straight about who was in charge here.
She needed help, not a boss. She’d had enough of listening to men like her father and waiting, waiting, waiting.
“Oh boy.” Charlie hopped up and down. “Maybe he can take me hunting. I could show him the best spots.”
She ruffled the boy’s hair. “One step at a time, little man. We need to get him well first, and then we’ve got some work to do.”
“Hunting is work. It puts meat on the table. Maybe we’d bring back an antelope or a buffalo.”
The boy needed a man in his life. A man who’d teach him things. Not someone who’d vacillated between ignoring him and treating him like a servant, as Pa had. “A deer would suit me just fine, or even a rabbit. But no asking today. Not until he’s better. You hear me?”
He scuffed his shoe. “I hear you. But tonight I’m going to clean my gun.”
A mouse scurried out of the way as Charlie hurried back to his shoveling. At the stall door, he turned. “Mr. McKenzie’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” A frown clouded his features. “I mean, not like ma and pa.”
Her chest tightened. “Of course.” But what if he wasn’t? “But we should pray for him. And after you finish your chores here, bring me the small hen. We’ll have chicken tonight, and I’ll make Mr. McKenzie some broth.”