Chapter 5 #2
The Lord had sent Ben McKenzie here, hadn’t He? Six days before Coffin would have kicked her and Charlie off the place with nothing more than their two horses and buckboard wagon could carry. God had come to her rescue. Surely, He wouldn’t allow Ben to die.
Ben trudged through the mud. Skeleton-like hands grabbed at him. Filthy men dressed in rags crawled toward him. He dodged their grip and ran for the palisade walls.
Andersonville. How did he get back here? He had to get out. The dead line lay ahead. He couldn’t breathe. He was choking. They’d shoot him if he crossed it. A barrel-chested Reb jumped in front of him, bayonet aimed at Ben’s midsection. Ben shoved him out of the way and lunged.
A piercing pain ripped through his gut, the steel tearing his insides. Still, Ben dove, landing on his side, his hand outstretched toward his prize. His fingers closed around the grime-covered laudanum bottle.
No! His cry echoed through his soul.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Ben jerked awake. His heart pounded in his ears.
He rolled to his back. A dream. It’d only been a dream.
But he could taste the brown liquid. His mouth watered.
An ache akin to homesickness washed over him.
No. He clenched his hand. He hadn’t survived three-and-a-half weeks of torture to give in now.
God, you’ve got to help me. I can’t do this. God, please—
Thump. “Mr. McKenzie, you all right?” Charlie called through the rickety pine door.
Charlie. Ben swung his legs over the side and sat up. The room spun. He ran a shaky hand over his hair and pushed off the bed. “Coming. Just a minute.”
Ben leaned against the doorjamb to steady himself as he opened the door.
Charlie blinked up at him. “Cora sent me to see if you’re feeling up to coming to supper.”
“Tell her I thank her kindly.” The words scraped his parched throat. “But I won’t be able to make it this evening.” It’d taken him all day to struggle through breakfast.
“She cooked a chicken for you.”
For him. What had happened to the woman ready to shoo him out of her house yesterday for helping her out? “I’m honored, but tell her not to trouble herself on my account.” His head throbbed to the point of nausea.
“I got to wring its neck. It was a chubby little Dominique hen, and it tried to waddle…”
Ben couldn’t handle another minute on his feet. He drifted back to his bed as the boy finished his story.
He sank onto the straw tick. “I hope you and Cora have a fine meal. Save me a little for later.”
“She won’t let you get away with not eating.” Charlie meandered into the room, pivoting a full three-sixty on his heels as he surveyed the place. “She’s worried about you.”
Cora Scott worried about him? Almost enough to make him smile. But he’d come here to help, not add another burden on her shoulders. “Tell me, Charlie, how are you set for supplies? For instance, does your sister have enough flour and coffee?” He laid his arm over his forehead, peering beneath it.
Charlie ambled to the saddlebag on the table and fingered the leather flap. “She’s always saying how we have to be very careful and only use a little at a time. So our food will last until harvest.”
When Ben got better, he’d ride into town and buy them a month’s worth of supplies. What if he didn’t get better?
Charlie threw back his shoulders. “Now that you’ve whipped Mr. Coffin, we could go hunting.
” He turned to Ben and grabbed the stool from beside the washstand.
“Kill a big deer for her. Then she wouldn’t have to worry.
” Eyes bright, he carried the stool to the bedside and plopped down on it.
“Even better if we could find us a buffalo. Cora doesn’t think we can do that, but we could show her. ”
The edges of Ben’s mouth tugged upward. “We’ll work on that.”
“I could show you the best hunting places. I have Comanche uncles. I don’t remember much about them, but I’m sure they showed me how to hunt buffalo. Maybe if I dream about it, I’ll remember more…”
Comanche uncles? The boy looked Indian, but with gray eyes.
And Cora called him a brother. A half brother by blood?
Or merely adoption? Ben settled back on his pillow as the boy talked.
The throb in his head lessened. But his tongue felt like gauze.
“Charlie.” He interrupted during a pause. “Could you fetch me a glass of water?”
“Sure.” Charlie hopped up. “You need to get well. So I can show you how to hunt with a bow and arrow. I bet you don’t know how to do that.” He poured a glass from the pitcher on the washstand.
“I’ve never tried archery.”
“Well, I’m good at it. I know how to shoot a gun, too. Maybe some time, you could show me your carbine. I see it over in the corner.” Charlie handed him the glass.
“Sometime. Leave it be for now.” Ben rolled up onto an elbow and gulped down a few sips.
Too much too fast. Air burned his throat.
“I’ll tell you what.” He lay back down after a couple more swallows.
“We can work out a bargain. You do a few chores for me, like fetching water from the well. And I could pay you as I did yesterday for my saddlebags.”
Elbows on his knees, Charlie settled his chin on his fists. “Cora says I’m not to take more money from you.”
Hmmm. “All right. This is what we’ll do. You do a few chores for me, and I’ll take you hunting and show you my carbine when the time comes.”
“That’s a deal.” Charlie sat up straight. “And maybe your Colt revolver too?”
“Only if you find me a buffalo.” He teased.
“I’ll do it. You just watch and see…”
Ben lowered his forearm over his eyes as the boy talked about the adventures they’d have.
A mockingbird trilled through the open window.
Ben shuddered. Olivia’s pet mockingbird, Delilah, could imitate more than two dozen bird songs.
Olivia loved to have Delilah by the piano while she played…
A world of silver and crystal, scrolled trim, imported furnishing, and fancy gatherings. A world away from here.
In his haste to pack and come to Texas, he’d forgotten to include a picture of his almost-betrothed.
Now as he tried to summon her image in his mind’s eye, her facial features and form came readily enough, but his heart was as unmoved as a wooden block.
Once it had not been so. During his time at Belle Isle and the early days of Andersonville, he’d pined for Olivia.
But his dreams of her had faded as everything within him shriveled up.
The man who loved Olivia had not returned from prison. Would he ever?
Charlie’s voice ceased. Footsteps clicked against the floorboards. Ben shot up to a sit, sending his head reeling. He closed his eyes a moment before refocusing on Cora standing there, staring at him. Her hair was coiled in a loose braid at the base of her neck.
She frowned. A not-quite-white apron covered her green dress. She’d rolled her undersleeves to her elbows, more forearm than he was used to seeing on any female other than a child or servant. But then, this was the frontier, not Philadelphia. “I came to see what happened to Charlie.”
Ben braced himself to stand. “Sorry about that. I should have sent him—”
“Stay put.” She touched his shoulder. “I’ll fetch you some broth.”
Warmth pooled in the spot of their connection. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
She jutted a hand on her hip. “The only trouble you’re putting me to is making me wonder if I need to ride to town and fetch a doctor to make sure you listen and take care of yourself.”
He settled back against the wall and gazed up at her. Who was he to say no to Cora looking after him for a few days? He would make it up to her. “I’m at your command, Miss Scott.”
She blinked at him, flustered as a bird fluffing her wings. A slight blush colored her cheeks. “If only that were true, I’m sure the ranch would run smoother.”
He cocked his eyebrows. “We’ll see about that when I’m up and around.” His cracked lips hurt with his extended attempt at pleasantries. “But for clarification, the duration of your queenship is only until I’m feeling better.”
“I imagined as much, Mr. McKenzie. I’ll be surprised if it lasts that long.” She turned toward the door. “Come along, Charlie. You don’t want to wear our guest out.”
“He’s no trouble.” Ben’s eyelids drifted closed. “I don’t mind occasional company. But it’s Ben, not Mr. McKenzie.”
“Ben?” Charlie perked up.
“Mr. McKenzie to you,” Cora corrected. “Come fetch your supper.”
The notes of the mockingbird scratched against the cymbals in his head. Maybe a shot of whiskey would dull the pain. Or would that stir up a new craving? His thoughts drifted…
Cool fingers touched Ben’s forehead. He jerked awake.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Cora’s voice smoothed over him. “I brought you some broth.” She stepped back, her brow furrowed.
Had it only been a few minutes? He sat up from the wall and drew the quilt around him. Quilt? He’d only had a blanket before, but now the colorful star-patterned quilt lay across his lap. “I’d appreciate a bit of broth. If you could, leave it—”
“I’ll do no such thing.” She scooted the stool next to the bed and sat, holding a large cup in her hands. A copper kettle rested on the table across the room. “I figured you could drink it from a cup. Do you need me to hold it?”
The din in his head settled as his gaze dropped into hers. “I can manage.” He reached out, and she slipped the container of steaming broth into his cold hands.
The delicious aroma wafted toward his nose. He blew the golden surface, sending ripples across to the other side.
“I brought you a slice of bread too.” Cora tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. “Charlie and I ate our dinner, and I put the rest of the chicken in the springhouse. You can have some of the meat tomorrow.”
“I’m much obliged.” He sipped. “Delicious.” Fit for a king. He slowly polished off half the cup, savoring every sip.
Cora leaned forward. “So are you going to tell me what you believe is wrong with you?”
He half choked, coughing the soup back up from his windpipe.
She reached out as if she might pat him on the back. “You all right?”
He nodded and wiped his mouth. Best deflect. “I’m sure there’s a number of things wrong with me, Miss Scott. I have more than my share of faults.” The corners of his mouth edged upward.
She waved her hand at him. “You know I’m talking about your illness. I’m worried about you.” Her voice wobbled, going straight to his heart.
He lowered the cup to his lap. “A stomach ailment. Started at Andersonville.” That much was true. The doctor had given him the laudanum for his stomach. What if his digestive system couldn’t function any other way? “Traveling must have aggravated it.” Not a complete lie. But not the truth either.
She bit her lip. “I could fetch the doctor tomorrow.”
“No.” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended. “No, thank you. Rest, and broth, and plenty of water should set me on the right course.” Provided he could keep it down.
Her brow furrowed. “We’ll see.” She fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “I’ll be praying for your quick recovery.”
He needed all the prayers he could get. He curled his fingers around the cup and drew it to his lips once more. “If you need to hire a ranch hand to help out until I’m up and around—”
“We’ll wait for you. Charlie and I can manage until then.”
Wait on him? He closed his eyes and savored the thought. She’d decided to accept his help.
“Benjamin?”
His full-given name on her lips leached the tension from his shoulders. “Yes?”
“Did Jeb…I’ve got to ask…did he pass away due to a stomach ailment?”
He sucked in a breath. Was she being kind to him because she was afraid he’d die like her brother?
His lungs deflated. “This isn’t Andersonville.
In that place, with the green corn mixed with husks they fed us, when they fed us at all, and making us sleep in the open”—unless one dug a hole to crawl into—“one could pass away from a sore throat and cough. But your brother was strong. He made it almost to the end.”
Jeb could have escaped if it hadn’t been for him. What would Cora think if she knew the whole story?
She stood up. Was there moisture in her eyes? “Well, just so you know…I’ve already lost more family than I can count on one hand. So don’t you go dying on me, Ben McKenzie. You’re all I have left of Jeb.”
So that was it.
She reached for his cup. “I’ll fill it up once more, and then you can tuck yourself in and get some sleep.
” The hem of her green plaid skirt swished against the floorboards as she strode over to the copper kettle.
“If you need Charlie or me to sit with you tonight, or sleep down below just in case you have need—”
“I’ll be fine on my own, Miss Scott.”
It made sense that she was doing all of this for Jeb. Better that than just out of obligation for the land. She hardly knew Ben, after all.
So why did it bother him?