Page 283 of Track of Courage

Then, she winced, whimpered.

Donald sank into the chair by her bed. “Your stomach still hurt?”

Her face twisted. “And sometimes I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

He picked up an empty kidney tray on her bed. “Aim for this.”

Wren made a face, then picked up a crayon and offered it to Keely. “You want to color with me?”

Keely walked over, surveyed the picture. A princess with blond hair and a bright pink dress. She took the crayon, a teal, and pointed at the shoes.

Keely sat down and started adding in the blue.

“I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” Shoot, she hated the quiet of her voice. Still, maybe that’s exactly what Wren needed. Quiet. Calm.

Maybe they both did.

Wow, she missed the community. She looked at Donald. “Everyone okay after the fire?”

He’d leaned in to hear her, then nodded. “We closed in the back half of the barn and got the livestock back inside. When I left, Griffin was posting guards.”

She glanced at Wren, then back to Donald. “No need. The, um, trouble, followed us.”

His eyes widened. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Not even a little, but that was partly her fault, wasn’t it?

“Are you coming home with us?” Wren dropped her crayon into the tray and grabbed a purple one.

Keely glanced at Wren. Shook her head. “I have to...”

“Sing?” Wren smiled. “I like it when you sing.”

She shrugged. Maybe.

“My mommy used to sing to us. And tell us stories.” She looked up at her. “Are you a mommy?”

“Wren!”

Keely held up her hand to Donald, looked at Wren, and then, for some reason, nodded.

“I thought so,” Wren said, dropping the purple crayon back into the tray. She picked up the picture. “This is for you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and her eyes burned again.

A nurse came into the room, a stethoscope around her neck. “How’s Princess Wren this morning?” She walked over to the IV bag. “Thirsty, I see.”

“My tummy still hurts,” Wren said, and made a face of pain.

“Could be the stitches.”

Keely got up to let the nurse in on her side. Caught the name on her badge. Alicia.

The woman clipped a pulse oximeter to Wren’s pointer finger, then affixed the stethoscope to her ears to listen to her chest.

Keely should go, probably. She folded her arms over her, glanced at Donald.