Brides of Idaho (13 page)

He crossed the room again, spun around, and hurried back. As if afraid to take his gaze from Emmy, as if unable to stand by and helplessly do nothing as she continued to shiver.

Glory wanted to ease his mind. “I’m sure she’ll warm up soon. Won’t you, Emmy?”

Emmy nodded without speaking, her eyes even wider than before if such a thing was possible.

“In fact, I think she’s shivering less now.”

Levi rushed to her side and dropped to a squat. He cupped the child’s head in his hands and looked at her face, taking in each feature.

Glory wanted to close her eyes at the tenderness in Levi’s gaze, but she couldn’t deny herself one bit of it. Maybe Mandy was right. Maybe Glory was a tiny bit jealous of the attention he gave these children. Attention she’d never had from her father.

But it wasn’t fatherly attention she longed for from Levi. She wanted him to see her as a woman with—

She daren’t think of what she wanted. She had other things to occupy her time and thoughts. Like getting Emmy warmed. Like earning enough money to buy that piece of land. Like—

Levi pulled the covers tighter around Emmy, his knuckles grazing Glory’s arm.

She suddenly couldn’t remember anything more important than this moment and sharing it with Levi.

“She’s still shivering.”

She ducked her head and cradled the child close.

Levi paced the room, pausing at each passing to touch Emmy’s head.

His restlessness scraped along her mind. She glanced at Jack. He had fallen asleep on the floor. “Best put him on the bed.”

Levi scooped up the boy and laid him on the bed, covering him with the blanket, tucking it around him tightly as she’d noticed him do before.

Again, she ached deep inside for such comfort.

Levi pulled a chair up beside Glory. “Do you want me to take her?”

“She’s fine here.” Glory needed to hold the little girl. Needed something in her arms. Needed the weight of her body against her chest. She felt so empy inside, Levi’s voice reverberating back and forth from one side of her rib cage to the other. She had to find a way to put this agony to an end. “How did your parents die?”

“Influenza.”

“And you and your brother didn’t get sick?”

“No. Thank the good Lord.”

“Where’s your brother now?”

For a moment he didn’t answer, and Glory shifted so she could watch his expression. Pain flickered through his eyes, and she wondered at the cause. Then his eyes hardened. “He’s away. He’ll be gone for some time.”

A traveler then. “I suppose you miss him.”

“A lot.”

She shifted to a more comfortable position. “I always wished I had a brother. What’s it like?”

He laughed softly. “Sort of like having you for a sister, I expect.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She gave him a hard look, prepared to defend herself.

“Don’t get all prickly on me. But I’ve seen you and your sisters teasing each other and laughing at shared jokes. And”—his eyes darkened with their own teasing—“I’ve seen you angry enough at Mandy to try and chase her down. I expect you wanted to tie a lickin’ on her.”

She drew her chin up and gave him a dismissive look. “I would never beat her up.”

His laughter deepened, sending ripples through her insides. “If that’s true, I would venture to guess it’s only for two reasons.”

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what they were. She wouldn’t. Un-uh. But the words burst from her mouth. “What two reasons?”

His satisfied grin notified her he had been aware of her futile mental struggle. “First, you couldn’t catch her, and second, if you did try, Joanna would separate the two of you.”

She sniffed. No way would she admit he was correct. Never.

He chuckled softly, a sound as full and rich as thick, sweet chocolate. “I see I’m right.”

“You see nothing.”

“You’re wrong there. I see a lot of things.”

Dare she challenge him? No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t invite him to make observations. But she couldn’t let it be. “What things do you see about me?”

He shifted to face her, his gaze exploring her chin, skimming her cheeks, coming to rest on her eyes. Indeed, he seemed to see way deeper than what most people saw. His look probed the secret places of her heart.

She held her breath as he contined to study her.

“I see a beautiful woman who is as prickly as a pincushion. And as cautious and fearful as a trapped fawn.”

She swallowed hard, unfamiliar emotions clogging her throat.

He touched her cheek, brushed aside a strand of hair she hadn’t been aware of. “I see a woman who is afraid to let herself feel. She’s afraid to be real, let her feelings have expression because she’s so often been disappointed and hurt.”

She wanted to narrow her eyes, deny his words, laugh them off as false, but she couldn’t. No more than she could pull back from his probing, owning look.

He sighed and sat back, freeing her from his scrutiny. “Unfortunately, I fear I will only add to your hurt.”

“Excuse me?” What on earth did he mean?

“Yes. You see, I care about you. Far more than I have a right. I think you might end up hurt and disappointed.”

“Really.” She put as much sarcasm into the word as she could muster, but it still sounded far too begging for her liking.

“Yes. You see, I have a purpose that leaves me no room for anything else.”

He as much as admitted he wasn’t a preacher like he said. She tried to put that thought on top of her confusion, but it sank, leaving her staring at the things he’d said about her. He understood her as no one else did, not even her sisters. Why couldn’t he simply be her friend and maybe more? She licked her lips and forced her wooden tongue to work. “A man can always change who he is and what he does.”

For a moment he didn’t answer. She held her breath hoping he would agree. Instead, he shook his head. “Not always, I’m afraid.” He planted his palms on his knees and slowly pushed to his feet. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s quit shivering. In fact, she must be getting hot.” She folded back the blanket. “She’s flushed.” She lowered the woolen cover. “She’s burning up.” The child was naked. Glory grabbed a towel to cover her. She saw an old nightie Joanna must have stuck in and pulled it over Emmy’s head. “Do you suppose she’s taken a chill?”

“I don’t know. What do we do?”

She’d never nursed a child. Only animals. She tried to calm her thoughts and think how to handle this situation.

The door crashed open, and Mandy strode in with more wood. “Joanna sent me to see if you were okay. You’ve been gone a long time. I took care of the horses.”

Glory and Levi exchanged guilty looks. They’d forgotten the horses. For the first time she could remember, Glory had neglected an animal.

Mandy took in the pair of them huddled over Emmy.

Glory groaned. No doubt Mandy would read a lot more into the scene than it deserved. “I think Emmy’s sick.”

Mandy dropped the wood in the box and crossed to Levi’s side. “How do you know?”

“She’s so hot.”

“Well, it is like a furnace in here.” Mandy cracked open a window.

Levi scooped Emmy from Glory’s arms and took her to the bed. She opened her eyes at the disturbance.

Jack groaned and rolled toward the wall.

“Don’t her eyes look glassy?” Glory asked.

The three adults stood gazing at her.

“You ever been sick?” Glory asked Levi, hoping he might have some personal experience with this sort of thing.

“Wouldn’t dare.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My grandparents thought it a sign of weakness. Before that I only remember my ma giving me sweet licorice tea if I didn’t feel well. You?”

“Never had time for it.” And hadn’t paid much attention when she’d seen little ones ill. Glory turned to Mandy. “You once had the measles. Ma made you stay in bed in a dark room and insisted you drink lots of water.” She bent close to Emmy. “Would you like some water?”

Emmy groaned and turned her head away.

“I don’t suppose that’s a good sign,” Levi said.

“What do we do?” Glory looked from Mandy to Levi, wanting an answer.

They both shook their heads.

She faced Levi. “You say you’re a preacher. Shouldn’t you know how to help people?”

He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I’ve never been responsible for someone so young.”

“What are we going to do?” Glory didn’t know if she was more scared or more angry that none of them knew. “I don’t know if we should wrap her up and keep her warm or uncover her and cool her off, but there’s one person who will know. Joanna. Mandy, run and ask her what we should do.”

Mandy was gone before Glory finished speaking.

Suddenly she noticed how Emmy’s breath whistled in and out. She turned to Levi. “Is she going to be all right?”

Levi reached for Glory’s hands. “We’re going to do all we can.”

She sought and found comfort in his eyes, in his promise, and in the strength of his grip.

L
evi held Glory’s hands and looked deep into her eyes—almost golden in the last of the watery daylight. Apart from worry about Emmy, he had enjoyed the afternoon with her. He’d likely not get another and would forever cherish the few hours they’d been able to spend together in harmony.

When she rode into the wet campsite, he’d never heard a more welcome voice. For the sake of the children he went with her, though it wasn’t hard to make the choice. Yes, he knew he couldn’t offer her anything more than an afternoon or maybe two. Maybe three or four.

He stopped right there. No more counting. No more giving himself excuses. Or reasons. He’d been as honest with her as he could be, but still, he had no intention of hurting her.

Her eyes filled with worry and—dare he think it?—trust. Just a hint of such. He gripped her hands harder, vowing he would do all he could to deserve that trust. Which meant not caring for her, not allowing her to care for him.

For two heartbeats he considered changing his mind about devoting his life to serving God. But recalling the misery in Matt’s expression and knowing nothing would change unless Matt’s heart changed, Levi knew he must keep his bargain with God. At whatever cost.

“Is she going to be okay?” Glory demanded again.

“I am at a loss to know what we can do except for one thing and perhaps the best thing. Pray.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Of course. I keep telling God I am going to trust Him more. Believe His promises and all that sort of stuff. Then I forget.” Her grin was crooked, her expression regretful.

“He understands our humanness and doesn’t judge us for it. All He asks is that we turn back to Him after every lapse.”

“Sounds awfully forgiving.”

“Always. After all, God loved us enough, was forgiving enough to pour the punishment we deserved on His sinless Son.”

She swallowed hard. “Makes me think how much I owe Him. A debt I can never repay.”

“But that’s the wonder of it. God doesn’t expect us to try and pay it back. It would be impossible. God’s love and forgiveness are gifts.” Something about what she said tugged at his thoughts. As if he missed some detail, overlooked an important connection. But he couldn’t find the elusive thing, and let it go. This was not the time to explore his own problems.

He shifted his hands and held both of Glory’s in one and rested the other on her shoulder, feeling her quiver beneath his touch and then calm as she drew in a deep breath. “Shall we pray?” It took every ounce of self-control to remember his responsibility here—to act like a preacher—when his heart called out for him to pull her into his arms, press her to his chest, comfort and hold her. He stiffened his arm and bowed his head. “Lord God, the One who loves us, touch little Emmy’s hot body and cool it. Help no harm come to her. Amen.”

He kept his eyes closed and silently prayed for strength and self-control to keep his eyes on the task set before him, the road he had chosen. He needed it as never before as Glory leaned into his touch.

Time to shift things before he couldn’t control his emotions. He withdrew his hand from her shoulder but continued to clasp her hands. “Tell me how you came to be a farrier.”

She blinked, obviously startled by his sudden shift of focus.

He grinned. “I’m only trying to get us thinking of something else. Maybe ease our worry.”

“Isn’t prayer supposed to do that?”

“I simply thought it would help the process.”

She studied him a full ten seconds until he wanted to squirm.

“Stop looking at me like that. It reminds me of my grandmother.”

Glory blinked then patted her face. “I’ve got wrinkles?”

His chuckle came from deep inside, a place where he stored secret pleasures. “Not wrinkles. Just a way of looking at me that makes me think you can read my mind.”

“Maybe I can.” She looked mysterious as if trying to convince him she saw many secrets.

He met her look without flinching, not caring if she saw secrets. He longed to open his heart to her and share the hidden contents with her. But he had made a vow, and God did not look kindly upon people breaking vows made to Him.

“How did you become a preacher?” she asked, her quiet voice pulling him from his mental wandering.

“I’ll tell you if you answer my question first.”

“What question would that be?” Her look of confusion didn’t convince him she’d forgotten, and he only grinned for answer.

“Very well. When I was about thirteen, our pa left us with a couple who ran a livery barn. We were expected to work to earn our keep. So I learned to look after the horses and bothered the man to teach me how to trim hooves and shoe the horses. He might never have done so except one day he cut his hand badly and needed my help.”

“I’m sure he never regretted it.”

She lifted one shoulder in a gesture of uncertainty and indifference. “Couldn’t say. Pa showed up shortly after that and dragged us off to another place. Where he promptly left us high and dry again. This time we refused to live with the family he’d stuck us with. One thing about having to work for our keep, we’d learned lots of things, so we started working for ourselves.”