Read Online Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] by Midnight Blue - Free Book Online Page B

please ask someone to move this pile of wood from the porch and carry it to the back of the house where it belongs?”
    Aubrey glared at her but didn’t answer.
    A half hour later, Travor and Cullen, sullen and silent, moved the wood and piled it around a stump at the back of the house.
     
    *  *  *
     
    By the time the day ended Mara wasn’t sure she was equipped to handle so much as one more abusive word or pull one more pail of water from the well behind the house. She had had a run-in with Travor when she asked him not to walk on her clean floor until it was dry. Cullen had demanded to know how long Pack Gallagher intended to hide behind her skirts, and Aubrey had refused to talk to her about the financial state of the property. Her pride and her body had taken a beating. She was exhausted, too exhausted to move her things upstairs, too exhausted to do more than wash in the washpan when she longed with all her heart to sink down into a nice warm bath and let the tension flow out of her. In Denver all she had to do was request that the tub in the small room at the end of the upper hall be filled with warm water. Being here was like being in another world.
    Mara pulled her nightgown over her head, loosened her hair from the coil, and crawled into bed. Tomorrow, she told herself, tomorrow she would work on the upstairs rooms, and then Trellis or Aubrey could have this one. She fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.
    Something aroused her from that black, peaceful void. She stared into the darkness, shivered, and lifted her head from the pillow. After a long moment, she threw back the covers and went to the window to look out. The shimmering glow of the moon illuminated the landscape. Nothing stirred on the slope in front of the house. She went to the other window and looked toward the bunkhouse. All was quiet there. She was returning to her bed when she heard a hoarse whisper coming from Brita’s room and tiptoed to the door to listen.
    “Ma! Ma . . . wake up.”
    Mara lit the lamp, checked to see if the buttons on her nightdress were closed, then opened the door between her room and Brita’s.
    “Ma . . .” Pack’s voice rasped out weakly.
    In the soft glow of the lamp, Mara could see that he had thrown back the cover until it barely covered his privates. She placed the lamp on the bureau and went to the bunk.
    “I’m burning up.” He moved his hand down to pull the quilt up to cover himself. “Can I trouble you for a drink of water?”
    Mara felt his forehead with her palm. “Oh, my. You
are
hot! You’ve got an awful fever!”
    Brita roused. “Mara? What’s the matter with Pack?” she asked anxiously.
    “He’s taken a fever. I’ll get cold water and wash him down.” Forgetting about being barefoot and in her nightgown, Mara hurried to the kitchen and the water bucket that sat on the shelf.
    “Bring vinegar, child,” Brita called. “Put the kettle on for sage tea.” Brita could hear the stove lids clang and knew Mara had stuffed the firebox with wood and was putting the teakettle on.
    Mara came back into the room carrying the water bucket and a pan. She placed them on the floor beside the bunk.
    “Towels? Oh, I’ve got some in my trunk.”
    Pack’s feverish eyes followed her. She floated out of the room and then back in like an angel out of a dream. She came to him, bent over him, and lifted his head to help him drink from the cup she held to his lips. He drank gratefully and sank back. She wet a large towel and laid it across his bare chest, wet a smaller cloth for his forehead.
    “You’ve got to drink more water, Pack.” Mara refilled the cup, slid her arm beneath his neck, and lifted his head. “Drink as much as you can.” There was a concerned tone in her voice that he had not heard before. Her hair fell forward onto his chest. He could feel the softness of her body against his upper arm. He closed his eyes. Ah, her face, her sweet face. He had not thought he would ever be this