"I understand. " She managed. "Good. " Elias walked out, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. Nora sat alone in the kitchen with her sleeping son on the table beside her and for the first time in months, maybe years, allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they might survive after all. The spare room was small but clean, with a narrow bed, a washstand and a window that looked out over the prairie. Elias had carried Tommy up and laid him on the bed while Nora followed, her legs barely making the stairs.
He'd left them with fresh water, more willow bark tea and instructions to call if the boy worsened. Then he'd retreated to the barn where he belonged. Now, as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, Elias stood in the barn's dim interior and stared at nothing. His hands were busy, They were always busy, always working, always moving because if they stopped, he'd have to think. Cleaning and oiling tack that didn't need it.
What the hell had he done? He'd promised himself after Sarah died that he wouldn't let anyone close again. Wouldn't care. Wouldn't risk the kind of gut-wrenching agony that came from loving someone and losing them. And for 5 years, he'd kept that promise.
He'd run his ranch, worked until exhaustion made sleep possible, and avoided the town and its people as much as he could. And now he had a woman and child under his roof. A woman with haunted eyes and a desperation that reminded him too much of Sarah in those final days. When the fever took her and there was nothing he could do but watch her slip away. A boy with his son's coloring, burning with fever just like No.
Elias shut that thought down hard. Tommy wasn't his son, would never be his son. The boy was just a stranger's child who happened to get sick at the wrong time, and Nora Grey was just a woman who needed help. He'd give them a few days to recover, maybe offer her some work to earn supplies and money for wherever she was headed next, and then they'd be gone. That was the plan.
Simple, practical, safe. So why did his chest feel tight every time he thought about them leaving? "Fool," Elias muttered to himself, attacking a stirrup with the oil rag harder than necessary. "Damn fool. " Upstairs in the house, Nora sat beside Tommy's bed and watched her son sleep. The fever hadn't broken yet, but it hadn't gotten worse either.
And his breathing seemed easier. She'd been sponging him with cool water every hour, getting him to drink when he stirred, following the rancher's instructions to the letter. The rancher. Elias Ward. She'd seen his name on a piece of mail on the kitchen table.
She knew almost nothing about him except that he lived alone, spoke little, and had saved their lives without asking for anything in return. Yet Nora had learned that kindness usually came with a price tag. Men didn't just help women for nothing, especially not women like her, widowed, penniless, with a child and no prospects. There would be expectations. There were always expectations.
But what choice did she have? She'd been at the end of her rope when she stumbled onto this ranch, and if Elias Ward wanted payment she couldn't afford, well, she'd figure that out when it came. For now, Tommy was safe and cool and sleeping in a real bed, and that was worth almost any price. Almost. Nora's hand drifted unconsciously to her throat, where James's ring hung on a thin chain.
She'd been too afraid to wear it on her finger while traveling, afraid someone would steal it or that she'd have to sell it. It was all she had left of her husband, of the life they'd built before the influenza swept through Tulsa like wildfire and took him in 3 days. "I'm trying, James," she whispered to the ring, to the memory of the man she'd loved. "I'm trying so hard to keep him safe. I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm trying. " The ring didn't answer, of course.
The dead never did. Tommy stirred, whimpering, and Nora pushed aside her melancholy to focus on her son. She dampened the cloth again and laid it on his forehead, murmuring soft reassurances until he settled back into sleep. Outside, the sun touched the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. The prairie grass rippled like water in the evening breeze, and the cattle lowed softly in the distance.
It was beautiful in a stark, lonely way, this endless land under an endless sky. Nora watched it from the window and wondered how long they'd be allowed to stay. A week? Two? And then what?