Page 20 of Brian and Cora (The Bachelors of Three Bend Lake #2)

O n the way up the mountain, with Hank riding behind the wagon that Seth drove and with no one else to observe, Brian sank into the straw, scooting down inch by inch in an attempt to become prone.

The new dose of laudanum he’d taken at the doctor’s office moderated the stabs of pain to a dull ache—until he endured another jolt or unexpectedly tried to shift positions.

Still, he moved gingerly, lest he jar his leg.

Finally, he rested on his back, using his coat as a pillow, and panting at the effort.

I’m as weak as a babe. Having a robust constitution, he rarely suffered any illness, and, God be thanked, had avoided all but minor injuries. So, he didn’t have any practice being an invalid.

Sassy Girl lay curled into the straw near his shoulder, quiet after her ecstatic greeting to him and then loping alongside the wagon until she tired. She opened her eyes to check on him getting into position. Apparently satisfied, she returned to snoozing.

Brian gazed up at the stark azure sky, clear of any clouds. Indian summer had descended on Sweetwater Springs, the sun casting benevolent warmth and coating the surroundings in golden beauty. The deciduous trees lurking among the evergreens waved leaves of burgundy, yellow, purple, and orange.

He’d never before lain and gazed at his habitat from this direction—up, instead of outward—and he enjoyed the oddity. Unless a wagon wheel hit a rut or stone, which it did all too often, he could lull his mind into a kaleidoscope daze.

Too bad I’m not a poet. Surely, I could compose an ode to Montana’s natural beauty.

The thought soured his mood. He’d returned from the adventure of a lifetime with plenty of material, almost overwhelmingly so.

But no actual story. Hopefully, finally having solitude and time alone to gather his thoughts in peace, he could come up with a plot as exciting as his experiences.

The wheels hit a bump, jolting his leg. He had to clench his jaw not to groan at the pain.

How will I manage by myself? Up until this point, he’d refused to think of anything but home and solitude.

But now that home was almost a reality, other problems loomed and doubts started creeping into his hardheaded determination to shut the door on the world—or at least all of the world except two other bachelors and one little girl.

Since he had nothing better to do than look at the sky fading toward evening, Brian started thinking through what he needed to do to survive the next few weeks.

While at the doctor’s office, O’Reilly, the carpenter, had measured him for crutches.

But they wouldn’t be finished and delivered for a few days.

Somehow, he’d have to find a way to hobble around.

Brian hadn’t really provisioned his larder for the winter, intending to do so before he left the Harvest Festival. Even if he had, he couldn’t stand at the stove and cook.

I could go without meals for a few days. Won’t starve. I’ll just tighten my belt. From time to time, Hank and Torin will probably toss some food to me.

What about getting dressed and undressed? I suppose I could wear my nightshirt all day like a lazy slugabed. Hank can help me tonight.

What about getting in and out of bed and out of chairs? Going outside to use the privy was out of the question. But he did keep a chamber pot under the bed for use in the worst of the winter or during storms. Maybe if I don’t eat or drink much, I won’t need the pot too often.

Life would definitely be difficult for the next few weeks. Somehow, he’d have to fight the pain and do what he must to get through the days until he healed.

Brian felt the horses make the turn from the mountain road onto the path branching to Three Bend Lake. The tightness in his chest eased a bit.

He struggled into a sitting position, the movements hurting far more than when lying down. Guess Doc was right about the need for medication.

Sassy Girl inched forward and put her head on his good leg.

Absentmindedly, he scratched her head and stroked her back.

Eagerly, he absorbed the sight of the lake, the surface looking more purple than green, reflecting the shading sky. “Your swans are still here,” he called to Hank.

Hank urged Chipper to the side of the wagon. “Aside from that drenching rainstorm the posse had on the ride to Morgan’s Crossing, we’ve had almost balmy weather. Maybe they’re telling us to expect this Indian summer to last a while longer than usual.”

They passed Hank’s log cabin. Some fallen leaves sprinkled the yard and the porch.

“Almost there.” Although his friend didn’t repeat the warning uttered hours ago, his tense expression said, Brace yourself, Brother.

Earlier, Brian tried to pry information from Hank about what he needed to brace himself for. But the man stayed more mum than a rock. Now he thought to try again. “Gonna tell me what the secret is?”

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“By whom?”

“Not saying.”

Brian scowled at Hank. “You better not have let Elsie and Constance deck out my house with flowers or some such folderol.”

Hank nodded toward the flowers and leaves scattered about the wagon bed. “Seems you already have plenty.”

Brian brushed at the stray petals on his shirt. “Some brother you are,” he groused.

Hank smirked. “You’ll see soon enough.”

They passed Torin’s house, the shutters drawn over the windows.

Hiding like a gopher in a hole. Hopefully, when Seth left tomorrow after staying overnight at Hank’s, his friend would emerge with Jewel.

He’d managed to save the child one piece of taffy, having given out the rest to Seth’s family and the posse members.

When the path curved around the third lake bend, Brian couldn’t help a spurt of expectancy. Home. As the wagon drove through the last stand of trees, he anticipated the first view of his snug cabin set on a stretch of sand before the lake.

But instead, the house had almost doubled in size, the formerly-weathered gray boards painted a fresh brown, and a wide porch running the length of the original cabin.

His mouth dropped open. “What the dev—” he caught himself “—dickens!” He blinked, and then blinked again.

Has the laudanum affected my brain? Am I seeing things?

He rubbed his eyes and, when the view remained the same, clenched his fists on a wave of anger.

“Wasn’t my doing.” Hank swung down from the saddle, flicked Chipper’s reins around the porch rail, and sauntered over to the wagon. “Your nurse needed her own bedroom.”

“Nurse? I don’t need a nurse. I can take care of myself.” Brian didn’t need some old besom, he mentally spat out a disparaging description he’d heard his Scottish grandfather use, intimately touching him, ordering him around.

A woman stepped out from the porch shadows, her carriage proud. Contrary to his image of a pinch-faced, narrow-eyed older woman with white hair pulled back in a tight bun, she was young. And not just young, pretty. She coolly gazed at him with intelligent gray eyes.

Something about her shook him to his bones.

I’m in trouble now.

Brian cast the young woman a glance of loathing before turning to glare at his so-called friend.

Hank held up his hands in an I’m innocent move. “Andre Bellaire wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Bellaire? Don’t know the man. I’ve heard of him, of course. I would have been quite comfortable without this….” He jerked his thumb to indicate the porch and back addition. “And why build onto my house?”

“Because your nurse needs her own room.” Hank beckoned the woman forward. “This is Miss Cora Collier. She’ll take care of you until you’re up and about.”

“I’m up and about now.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, directing a pointed look at Brian’s definitely not up and about body. “Not like you to tell a lie.”

Seth tied off the reins, set the brake, and climbed off the wagon seat, stopping to stretch out his legs and open and close his hands several times. He glanced over at the house and back to Brian, a glint in his silvery eyes. “Not what you expected, eh?”

Brian grunted, not bothering to dignify the question with an answer.

With friendly aplomb, Seth ambled over and unhitched the back gate of the wagon. “You ready for this?”

Up until five minutes ago, Brian had been so ready to reach his house and shut the door on the world. But now, he wished he could run away. Heck, he’d settle for gimping away. Somewhere far away.

“You!” He jabbed a finger toward where the woman stood. “Stay there. Don’t move.” He didn’t need an interfering female trying to involve herself in what would be a painful transition from wagon to the ground to the house.

Her eyebrows drew together in apparent concern. But at least she didn’t move. Yet.

Right then and there, Brian determined he wouldn’t use the young woman’s name, wouldn’t even think her name. He’d pretend she wasn’t here. Hopefully, she’d quickly tire of being shunned and beat a retreat down the mountain.

Catching Hank and Seth’s attention, Brian nodded his readiness, braced himself for the pain, and scooted slowly toward the back of the wagon, trying to put as much weight on his hands as possible.

Seth and Hank positioned themselves on either side of his legs, leaning in to grab his upper arms and slide him the rest of the way, carefully setting him on one foot.

Throughout the excruciating process, Brian wanted to let out a string of curses against the agony. Hank and Seth, being men, would have understood. But Hank and Seth, being gentlemen, would have boxed his ears for cussing in front of a lady. As Brian would have done if the situation were reversed.

The next pain-filled moments he endured in gritted-teeth, stiff-necked silence, feeling queasy and lightheaded. He only muttered the minimum words when need be, like when Hank asked if he wanted to use the privy.