Chapter Eight
Morning arrived, and the camp came alive once more.
The women began cooking breakfast while the men fed the livestock and ensured that none of the wagons or supplies had been ruined during the previous night’s storm.
Ethan should have been helping with the other men.
In fact, he considered doing so, despite his exhaustion.
Then, he saw Grace Hawthorne. Her presence wasn’t unusual.
She and Hannah had cooked all their meals together after the first night when Grace had made some terrible concoction, something so burnt and blackened that it was inedible.
This morning she walked with an uneven gait, clearly favoring her right leg.
Emily’s hand was grasped tightly in her older sister’s. Despite the ordeal in the river, the little girl seemed no worse for wear this morning.
Ethan sighed and headed back to where Hannah had a fire going and had already laid out strips of salted venison to be cooked.
“You’re hurt,” Ethan said when Grace joined them.
Her response was an irritated look. “I’m not.”
“So you’ve just decided to walk like someone with an injury out of the blue?” he asked. “Were you injured in the river last night?”
“In the river!” Hannah exclaimed.
“It was nothing,” Grace said.
“It was something,” Ethan argued, before looking to Grace’s younger sister. “Emily, why don’t you go and play with the other children while I look at Grace?”
Grace’s head snapped in the direction of the children. For just a moment, panic flashed across her expression. Ethan mentally winced and wished he hadn’t spoken. Of course Grace would be hesitant to let Emily wander anywhere after she’d nearly lost her.
“Can I?” Emily asked quietly. “I promise I won’t run off again.”
“Of course.” Grace’s voice shook, even as she gave Emily her permission.
Emily let go of Grace’s hand and ran off. Ethan admired the girl’s resilience, if a bit wryly. He had expected her to be upset and solemn, but Emily acted as though nothing had happened.
“Now,” Ethan said, “Tell me where you’re hurt, Grace. What was it? Did you step on something? Get hit against something?”
“It was just a rock,” Grace said.
“Just a rock,” he repeated flatly.
“Ethan is very good at treating injuries,” Hannah said. “You should let him look at it. Injuries can turn dire quickly if they’re left untreated.”
Grace scowled, but sat down. She hesitated, and he saw a silent war in her eyes.
Ethan cleared his throat. “I just want to make sure you’re not hurt. Badly, I mean.”
“Right.” Grace’s face reddened as she drew up her skirts and petticoats until her knee was revealed. But Ethan didn’t pay any mind to the intimacy of such a gesture. Instead, his eyes fixed at once on the long, red scrape and deep bruising that covered Grace’s shin.
“Oh, my goodness!” Hannah exclaimed. “Grace!”
“You should be more careful,” Ethan said.
Grace glared at him. “Thank you for that helpful advice, Ethan. However did I survive without you?”
She was upset, but Ethan didn’t quite understand why. It was only an observation. He’d meant nothing by it. Should he apologize, at least to ease the tension?
The words seemed to stick in his throat. Why should he apologize? He hadn’t meant any harm, and she had taken it wrongly. Then again, she seemed to take everything he did the wrong way, or maybe she just disliked him.
“Heaven only knows,” he said dryly. “Don’t move. We’ve got bandages and a medicine chest in our wagon.”
Ethan went to fetch them, gathering what he needed: clean cloths, bandages, and a couple bottles of medicine.
As he walked back to Hannah and Grace, a begrudging fondness stirred inside him.
Grace, the woman who wore that silly peach frock and who hadn’t even known how to cook a proper meal, dismissed an injury so bad that she limped as just a brush with a rock.
She might survive this trail through the strength of her will alone.
It was a pity that everything he did seemed to upset her.
It wasn’t like he was trying to be unkind.
He just wasn’t used to softening his words for fine ladies, or for anyone, for that matter.
Ethan dropped to the ground beside Grace, half-expecting her to seize the cloths and medicine from him and tend to the wound herself.
“I have water,” Hannah said.
Ethan soaked the cloth in the water, giving his sister a grateful nod.
He carefully wiped it over Grace’s leg, which was missing a stocking.
The wound must have bothered her enough, despite her brave face, that she couldn’t get one on.
Something perilously close to shame burned the back of Ethan’s neck.
He tried not to think too much about how close he was to her, or how much he was touching her.
Ethan couldn’t even bring himself to meet her eyes, partly for fear that he might notice once again how beautiful her lovely face and green eyes were, and partly for fear that he might see disgust in her expression.
Ethan gently cleaned away the blood, taking care not to press too harshly on Grace’s bruised skin. When that was done, he uncorked one of the bottles.
“What is that?” Grace asked.
“Beats me,” he said. “But the apothecary in town—back in Clay County—used to make it. I always thought it was the best thing for preventing infections.”
“That is not an answer that inspires confidence.”
“Well, I’m sorry I don’t have medicine from some fancy Lexington physician,” Ethan said dryly. “But that town had the same apothecary for going on sixty years.”
“And was that because he was good at being an apothecary, or because you couldn’t get another one?”
Hannah laughed. “Luke Harper was an excellent apothecary,” she said. “He was real protective of his formulas, but he was good. Ma used to swear by his remedies.”
Grace still looked doubtful, but she didn’t seem like she was inclined to press the issue any more.
Ethan dabbed the cloth with the remedy and gingerly wiped it over the injury, then opened the next bottle, a salve.
“This one is honey and marigold.”
“Another creation by-what was his name? Harper?” Grace asked.
“The very same,” Ethan said. “After I put the salve on, I want to wrap the injury. It might take some time to become accustomed to how the bandages feel, but it will help the salve soak into the wound and prevent infection.”
“Very well,” Grace said.
Ethan rubbed the salve along the line of the scrape, pleased to note that the bleeding had stopped and the injury was already starting to scab over. He then carefully wound the bandages around her leg.
Once he was finished, Grace promptly pushed her petticoats and skirts back down. Ethan swallowed hard and looked away quickly. He tried not to think about the lovely shape of her calf, or how soft her skin had been beneath his hands.
“Thank you.” She had the remarkable ability to make thank you sound as though it were a vicious swear.
Ethan gathered up the items and returned them to the wagon. Once everything was back in its proper place, he paused and inhaled deeply. He had only tended to her injury; that was all. It was something he’d done for Hannah dozens of times, but this—
Grace wasn’t Hannah. She was a pretty, unmarried woman, who he might be getting a little fond of. Just a little. And she made him feel like a young man again, embarrassed and shy because he’d brushed against a pretty girl.
He glanced over his shoulder at Hannah, standing and cooking their breakfast over the fire, and Grace, seated with her knees pulled up a little. It was a position that looked like it would aggravate the injury on her leg.
Stubborn, he thought. So stubborn.
Shaking his head, Ethan strolled back to the women and dropped onto the ground, nearer to Hannah than to Grace. He frowned, just then realizing that Derek had yet to make an appearance. Ethan had been so distracted by Grace’s injury that he hadn’t even noticed.
“Breakfast is nearly finished,” Hannah said.
Grace made as if to stand.
“I’ll fetch Emily,” Ethan said. “You should try to rest as much as you can.”
“I can walk,” Grace argued.
“Not as well as usual,” he pointed out. “And we are crossing notoriously harsh terrain. The last thing you need is to trip over some rut in the road or slip on loose gravel.”
Her face flushed, and Ethan sensed the coming argument. He got up and strode over to the laughing and shrieking children before Grace could give voice to her protests.
“Emily!”
The girl spun around, laughing joyfully when she saw him. “Ethan!”
“Breakfast is almost ready,” Ethan said. “Your sister sent me to get you.”
Emily nodded and skipped over to him happily. “Hannah always makes such a good breakfast! It’s different from back home, but it’s still good.”
“You should tell her that,” Ethan said. “It’ll make her happy.”
“I’ll tell her,” Emily replied, her voice quite serious.
Ethan smiled and slowed his stride so he didn’t leave Emily behind.
She hummed happily and swung her arms at her sides as she walked.
Ethan glanced to Grace, debating if he should ask her how Emily was really doing.
The child seemed as if she’d recovered well, but Ethan’s only experience with little girls had been Hannah.
She had always been more sensitive than most.
When they rejoined Hannah and Grace, Grace already had a plate of salted venison, a hunk of cheese, and what had to be nearly the last of the bread Hannah had made.
He prepared his own plate while Hannah passed one to Emily.
The girl sat contentedly beside Grace and began eating a truly impressive amount for such a small child.
“I wonder where Derek is,” Hannah mused.
“With my father,” Grace said promptly.
“Why?” Ethan’s face flushed with heat. That word had come out sounding accusatory for no reason at all.
Grace shrugged. “They crossed paths this morning. My father has never been the sort of man to turn down a good conversation.”
“Then why is he talking to Derek?” Ethan asked.
“Ethan!” Hannah exclaimed, swatting his shoulder. “Don’t be unkind. I swear, one must have the patience of Job to manage the two of you!”
Grace took a bite from her hunk of bread, a sly look crossing her face. She probably enjoyed seeing him suffer.
“Why are you so mean to Derek?” Emily asked as she looked between the adults.
Ethan straightened his back, the question striking a sore spot that he didn’t want to think about too much.
“We shouldn’t pry into people’s private family business,” Grace said to her.
“But I want to know!” Emily protested.
“Sometimes,” Hannah said, giving Ethan a warning look, “families like to tease one another. That’s all he’s doing.”
Ethan cast a frustrated look at her in return, but said nothing.
For all that Derek irritated him, Ethan didn’t want to air out their family’s dirty laundry in front of near strangers, especially considering Grace would probably take Derek’s side.
That shouldn’t have mattered, but everybody took Derek’s side, and, just once, Ethan wanted someone to acknowledge that the young man was impulsive and downright frustrating.
“Our family doesn’t do that,” Emily said, scrunching up her nose and narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
“Not all families are the same,” replied Grace.
Emily didn’t look satisfied with that answer, but she mercifully turned her attention to her breakfast rather than continuing to ask questions. Ethan chewed on a bit of salted venison and tried to recall if Hannah had asked so many questions at that age. He couldn’t remember.
He finished his meal in silence, content to listen to the women talk about Grace’s life in Lexington, which sounded as sheltered and carefree as he’d expected.
Grace was the sort of woman who talked about having seamstresses come to her father’s house to make dresses for her from the finest silks, brought in specially from New York, where they had landed after being imported from Paris itself.
She owned enough books to start her own library, too.
At least, that’s how it sounded to Ethan.
When Grace talked about her home, a new brightness came to her face.
Grace spoke of lazy drives on Sunday evenings, and of parties and balls and waltzes.
She was truly pretty as she spoke of her cherished memories, but Ethan had no business thinking about that.
He finished his breakfast and smiled at Hannah.
“Thanks for breakfast. I have to get started on the morning chores.” Ethan clambered to his feet, dusting the dirt from his pants and rolling his shoulders back. He went to the rear of the wagon train, near where the livestock had been left to graze.
Richard Hawthorne was there and waved him over.
“Something wrong?” Ethan asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.
Richard shook his head. “No. I just wanted to thank you in person for what you did last night. Saving Grace and Emily.” The man’s voice was gruff, but wavered with an undercurrent of emotion.
It was like Richard had never thanked anyone in his life, and now he was being crushed beneath the weight of his own debt to Ethan.
“They’ve been my whole life since my wife passed. I don’t know how I’d go on if anything happened to either of them.”
A fissure of discomfort curled in Ethan’s chest. Of course Richard was upset.
Any man would be, but something about seeing Richard—or maybe just a father—be so open about his love for his family made Ethan feel as though he was intruding on a private moment, like he was seeing part of Richard that he had no right to witness.
Ethan shrugged. “I did what any man would have. You don’t have to thank me.”
And then he kept walking. He needed some work to do so his mind would be occupied. His thoughts were dangerously close to lingering on his own father, and that was a train of thought best left alone.