Page 74 of A Rugged Beauty
Hollis felt the bottom of his stomach drop out as Abigail's fever-bright eyes closed.
"Abigail. Abby. Wake up."
She didn't respond. He still held his palm against her cheek and tapped her with his forefinger.
Maddie let go of Abigail's wrist, where she'd been counting the beats of her heart.
"How long has she had the fever?" Maddie asked.
He shook his head, helplessness rolling over him like a rogue wave in an overflowing river. Despair threatened to suck himunder. "I don't know." He could barely get the words out, and when he did, they were rough with emotion.
He had been too scared to get close to her in these past days since they'd left the wagon train. Scared of himself—of what he'd do if he got near enough to clasp her hand in his again.
Two days ago, he'd almost kissed her. Had barely come to his senses in time. Or maybe didn't have any sense left, not when his instincts kept urging him to turn to her, to grab onto her and not let go.
"Please, not her." He didn't know where the guttural whisper came from. He bowed his head, fighting the tears that wouldn't help anything. He was still reeling from the news that Mrs. Madigan had passed. He knew—he knew!—how this sickness could kill.
And now Abigail...
He couldn't even think about what losing her might mean to him.
"Can you lift her into the wagon?" Maddie pressed.
He raised his head to meet her concerned gaze.
"She'll be more comfortable there," Maddie said.
He had to pull himself together. But he was shaking as he rose to his knees, gathered Abigail to him and stood to his feet.
He could feel her fever heat radiating through her dress and his shirt. He’d thought she looked peaked when he'd spoken to her only moments ago. Why hadn't he asked if she needed to rest?
Because he was a fool.
Maddie looked pale too. Exhausted. In camp, there had been only a handful of folks who hadn't been touched by the typhoid. And Maddie was running herself ragged.
"Is the fort’s doctor coming?" Maddie asked as Hollis moved to lay Abigail inside the wagon, where a blanket had already been spread and the crates and barrels shoved to one side.
"No one is coming," he grated out.
He'd felt the helplessness of it, the biting words from a sergeant who had kept a good ten feet from Hollis once he'd understood the company was ill.
"A doctor has a duty to help—" she started.
"Then maybe we should've forced our camp doctor to come with us."
She flinched, and he realized he'd growled the words. Almost bitten her head off.
This wasn't her fault.
"Then... we're on our own?" Her words trembled.
Hollis nodded gravely. "They won't send anyone or allow us into the fort until we're completely well."
Desperation seized him. He'd made the best choice he could, seeking help at the fort. Only to find that he'd perhaps doomed them all.
Owen was right. Hollis wasn't fit to lead this company.
Abigail's head lolled to the side, limp and unresponsive.
