“My trunk! I…need it.”
“I’ve got it. I kind of borrowed a wagon from the owner of that trading post. Figured he owed you that much. You couldn’t very well ride. Between that foot and wanting to bring your trunk, I needed a wagon.”
Miranda smiled weakly. “I never thought…I’d see you again. I prayed for you…every day…thought about you…so many times, especially when I got scared. I wondered…if you were thinking about me too…worried if you were all right.” Her eyes teared anew. “I wanted so much…to see you again. It just…didn’t seem right…the way you left. And now…here you are…helping me get to Nevada. You see? You do have some good in you.”
He grinned and moved away, setting a fry pan on the fire. “Don’t be putting labels like that on me. I just figured I still owed you, that’s all.” He took some potatoes from his supplies.
You don’t fool me, Jake Harkner, she thought. “You took a chance, going…to Independence like that.”
He shrugged. “I did like you said, stayed cleaned up, kept my guns off. People thought I was just an ordinary citizen. I found that Reverend Bishop and told him I was an old friend of the family. He told me about you traveling with the Jennings party.” He looked back at her. “You never answered me about how you feel. Can you eat a little? It would be the best thing for you. You need to get your strength back.”
“I’ll try.” She moved slightly and realized her foot and lower leg were tightly wrapped. The pain was not nearly as bad as it had been for the last several, horrible days. “My foot feels much better.” She laid back, feeling under the blankets. She remembered someone bathing her, putting on her flannel gown. Jake? She felt a cloth wrapped between her legs, and embarrassment took over. She was grateful that at least it was dry. She tried to get up then to relieve herself, but could hardly get to a sitting position without feeling faint. In an instant, Jake was at her side.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I have to go…relieve myself.”
“You can’t even walk.” He picked her up in strong arms and carried her several feet away out of the firelight. “When I put you down, don’t put any pressure on that left foot. I’ll raise your gown and keep hold of you when you squat. You don’t have to support yourself at all. Let me do it. Can you get that towel off you?”
He kept one powerful arm firmly supportive around her middle under her breasts and lifted her gown with his left hand. Miranda wanted to die of embarrassment. “I can’t! I can’t do this with you here.” She started to cry.
“Bullshit! I can’t see a damn thing just leaving the firelight like that. It’s black as tar tonight. Hell, you’re sick, Randy, and I’ve already seen everything there is to see, so just go. Hell, it’s better than having to clean up after you.”
She removed the towel, sniffing back tears, realizing he was right. She couldn’t do this alone, and the need was too great to hold back. She forced herself to think about something else for the moment, wondering if there was any way she would be able to cure Jake Harkner of his constant cursing by the time they reached Nevada. Nevada. Jake was taking her. He had promised. She was sure she had heard him promise. She remembered an embrace, suddenly remembered she had told him she loved him. She couldn’t remember hearing him reply, wondered if he just thought she had said it in delirium. She clung to the strong arm that held her. “Do you…have paper?” she asked, brushing away tears.
“Yeah, but I can’t let go of you to get it. Use the towel. Hell, it’s just water. I can wash the towel out in the river. Leave it right here and I’ll pick it up in the morning.”
Miranda cleaned herself and Jake let go of the gown and picked her up again, carrying her back to the fire. She clung to him, weeping against his chest. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “When I asked you…to take me to Nevada…I didn’t mean…to be such a burden.”
“You didn’t ask to get snakebit, either, and if I had come along in the first place, none of this would have happened. Don’t worry about it.” He started to set her down, but again she clung to his neck, almost like a child. He thought about all the times when he was a little boy when he would have welcomed someone’s strong arms to hold him and tell him everything was all right, that he would be protected and safe.
He sat down himself then, keeping her in his arms. “Randy, I don’t want you to be embarrassed or afraid or sorry, all right? It isn’t like you to cry, and I know it’s just because of what you’ve been through and because you’re so sick.” He stroked her hair. “In a few days you’ll feel a lot better and doing everything on your own. Hell, I’ve seen it all and done it all. Don’t be embarrassed to let me help you.”