Emma dropped the saddlebag with a thud. The most beautiful crystal blue eyes she’d ever seen stared back at her. They glowed with either anger or humor, not knowing the man well enough to be sure. She straightened her shoulders. “My goodness, Mr. Davis, you scared me half to death. I thought you were asleep.” Annoyance flooded her at the sound of her breathless voice. She had every right to examine what her wagon carried.
“Cooper,” the tired voice responded.
“Excuse me?”
“Cooper. My name is Mr. Cooper.” His voice was low and deep. From pain, or anger?
“Then why do they call you Davis?”
“Because my name is Davis. Davis Cooper. I hate to bother you, ma’am, but can I have a drink of water?” He dropped his head back onto the pallet and closed his eyes. That little bit of effort apparently wearing him out.
Emma scooped water out of the barrel with his cup and returned to the back of the wagon. She climbed in, spilling some of the water on her and her patient. She put the cup to his lips, but there was no way he could drink it unless she lifted his head.
Hating that she had to touch him, she gingerly put her hand under his head and raised him. Not opening his eyes, he drank greedily of the water and turned his head when he finished. Within minutes his deep breathing suggested the man now slept, so Emma returned his belongings to the saddlebags.
The sound of scouts riding alongside the string of wagons, yelling, and slapping their hats to get the animals moving forward warned her she still had a lot of work to do. She tied her bonnet under her chin, left the wagon, and approached the oxen that one of the men who had carried Davis over had hitched to her wagon. She grabbed the heavy rope and pulled, grunting.
Sweat trickled down Emma’s face, running into her eyes, burning them. Every muscle in her body ached from constantly yanking on the rope to keep the dumb animals moving forward. The front and back of her dress was soaked through, her teeth coated with road dust. She fought tears, and finally gave up and let them come. They ran down her face, mingling with the sweat.
Over the course of the morning she’d checked on Davis several times, but he remained asleep. Right around twelve o’clock a bugle called a halt to the wagons to stop for the noon meal. Emma dropped to her backside right where they stopped. She pulled her bonnet off, and fanned herself.
In the long line ahead of her, men filled pans with water for the animals, while the women pulled out the makings of a meal from the wagon. Children too young to walk alongside their mothers ran in circles, laughing and shouting, finally free from the restriction of the wagon.
She really should get something to eat, but too weary to move, she remained where she’d fallen. A shadow fell over her as one of the scouts pulled back on his horse’s reins and slid to the ground alongside her.
“Ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “My name’s Joshua Williams, and Ezra sent me to help with the animals.” He nodded and moved past Emma, then began examining the oxen. With every muscle screaming at her, she climbed to her feet and staggered to the back of the wagon.
Chapter Four
Emma rattled around in the wagon, too tired to think about a meal, but knowing if she didn’t eat, she’d never make it through the afternoon. She
glanced at Davis to see him quietly staring at her. Startled, Emma put her hand to her stomach to quiet the butterflies that seemed to have taken up residence there.
“Oh, Mr. Cooper, I thought you were still asleep.” Once again her voice sounded breathless to her ears.
“Well, did you?” Davis studied her with a slight grin and a twinkle in those strange blue eyes.
“Did I what?”
One bow arched as he regarded her intently. “Find what you were looking for?”
“Mr. Cooper.” She raised her chin up. “I was merely making sure there was nothing in your saddlebags that might endanger our trip.” Heat rose from her stomach, burning her face. She quickly looked down, her stiff fingers fumbling with two tin cups.
“Well, ma’am, since my gun is here beside me, what could be in my saddle bags that would endanger our trip?” His voice hitched like he swallowed laughter.
She glowered with narrowed eyes. “Never mind, Mr. Cooper, everything seemed to be in order, so there’s no reason to continue this discussion. Would you like something to eat? I have some biscuits and leftover bacon from breakfast.”
He grinned and shifted his position, wincing with pain. “That would be just fine, ma’am. I’m sorry, but I don’t reckon I know your name. Ezra just told me they were taking me to a wagon to travel in until I could ride again.” He attempted to prop himself up on one elbow, but re-settled himself instead.
Blowing out her breath, she answered. “My name is Emma Thorpe, Mr. Cooper.”
As she fixed a sandwich of bacon and biscuits for both of them, she studied Davis Cooper under half closed eyelids. Even though stretched out, she noted his long frame, and powerful thighs. His strong jaw had a slight cleft in the center, below a pleasing face. Curly brown hair fell over his collar in the back, and dusted his broad forehead. The buttons of his brown wool shirt pulled tightly over a muscular chest, the bandages causing extra bulk. For the first time she wondered what his injuries were.
Afraid of being caught staring, Emma shook her head, and continued to busy herself with the meal preparations.
Davis closed his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it was your husband that got killed by the horses, wasn’t it?” He again attempted to raise himself up on one elbow and succeeded.
“Yes, Mr. Cooper, I am–was–Peter’s wife.” Tears welled in her eyes again. Before they could spill over, she moved away. “Now we better get us some food before the wagons start up again.”