Rose made that sound again, then caught at her breath as if waiting for a pain to pass, or trying to keep a coughing spell at bay.
Surely Mae heard that.
When Mae still didn’t move, Hink shifted a bit in his bunk, then sat. His eyes had adjusted to the light and he could see Mae was curled on her side. Her eyes were closed. Everyone else looked lost in the land of dreams, so Hink made his way over to Rose’s bed.
He wasn’t bringing a pillow this time. No, he’d do his best to avoid talking to her, for that matter. She had a way of making him feel doubtful, clumsy. Except for when he was talking about his ship. Nothing made him feel awkward when he was talking about the
Mr. Hunt didn’t stir as he passed. Neither did Molly or Mae.
He paused below Rose’s cot. She had her hand over her eyes. Maybe she was sleeping. She coughed again, a dry hack, and he could see her throat working to get moisture.
Hink came up beside her bed. “Rose?” he whispered.
She didn’t answer.
He tried again. “Miss Small, do you need some water?”
Rose lowered her hand. Her eyes were wide with surprise, but she nodded. “Please,” she barely rasped.
Hink took the cup from the shelf and sniffed it. Didn’t smell like booze or tea. Just to be sure, he took a very small sip. Stale, but water.
“Here.” He held the cup out and she took it, raising it up to her lips. But her hand was shaking so badly he was afraid she was going to knock a tooth out.
Hink wrapped his hand under hers, helping her bear the weight of the cup and steadying her trembling.
She drank the cup dry and then let him take it away and replace it on the shelf.
“Was that enough?” he whispered.
She nodded.
He just stood there staring at her. Like a boy who was tongue-tied and slow.
“I suppose I should go,” he said quietly. “Unless you need anything else?”
“No.” Then, thinking twice, she said, “Yes. I mean, yes, if it’s not too much of a bother.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I was already up. Can’t seem to sleep tonight.”
“Neither can I,” she said.
“So what is it you need?” Hink asked. “Medicine? Mrs. Lindson?”
“The sky.”
“What?”
“I feel…” She licked her lips as if trying to work out the words before she said them. “I feel all cooped up here in this stone, here in this bed. I feel like I’ve been on my back, sick, for years. It hasn’t been years, has it?” she asked.
“Just a couple days, I’m given to understand,” Hink said.
“I’d like to see the sky. The stars, if they’re out tonight.”
Hink considered the wisdom of such a thing. She could catch her death of cold out in the mountain air. Even moving her out of the bed might make that shoulder wound of hers worse. He was fairly certain Mrs. Lindson would be set against it. And if Cedar Hunt caught him taking Miss Rose for a midnight stroll, he was fair certain the man would happily string him up by his own tendons.
“Please,” Rose said.
Hink nodded, and let out a breath. “I don’t think you’re up for walking and I don’t have a pony hid away in my pocket.”
That earned him a quick smile, and his heart took to a happy thumping.
“I can walk some,” she said. “As far as I can go, I want to. Need to.”
“How about we save your walking for outside the caverns. I’ll carry you.”
“I…” She glanced at his face, and he knew it was set in a determination that made it clear he was not going to take an argument on this.
“Very well. Thank you,” she whispered.
Hink figured some of the folk in the room must be awake from all their whispered words. Well, maybe not Guffin or Molly, but Seldom slept like a snake—with both eyes open.
And he figured Mr. Hunt wouldn’t have slept through all that.
Still, he reached down and lifted Rose, blankets and all, into his arms as carefully as he could.
She wrapped her good arm around his neck and moaned softly against the pain of movement.
At that sound he instantly stilled. “Are you sure? I could set you back in your bed.”
“No,” she said. “I’m fine. Please.”
He started across the floor. To his great surprise no one stirred. The wolf at the door even let him pass by.
Maybe luck was slipping this one his way.
“How about we go catch us a bit of sky, Rose Small?” he asked as he made his way down the corridor that led to the flat rock just before the landing pads.
“You don’t know how happy that would make me,” Rose said, her voice breathy on a whisper.
Hink smiled, but didn’t say any more for fear of tripping over his words. He liked the idea of making her happy. More than liked the feel of her in his arms.
And for the moment, for the first time in a whole lot of years, there was nothing more important to him than seeing that Rose Small got what she wanted.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cedar Hunt watched as Captain Hink walked out of the room carrying Rose. He had heard everything they said. He didn’t know why Rose was so set on asking Hink for help. She was sick and hurting. He didn’t want Hink to hurt her more.
He sat up.
To find Mae also sitting. She was looking at him.
Cedar walked over to her, careful to move quietly so as not to wake the others.
“I’ll see that he brings her back,” Cedar said.
“No,” Mae said.
“No?”
Mae wrapped a blanket around her shoulders but didn’t bother putting on her shoes. She stood and started walking off, catching his hand and drawing him with her through the room and out a ways down the hall.
Hink was already well out of sight, and even Cedar’s keen hearing didn’t bring to him the sound of his footsteps or voice.
“He’s taking her outside,” Cedar said. “I’ll just follow and see that she comes right back in.”
“I don’t think she’d want you to do that, Cedar.”
“Doesn’t matter what she wants. She’s sick. She needs someone to look after her. This isn’t the kind of place to just let her wander off with a man, alone.”
“She wants to be with him,” Mae said. She pulled the blanket around her a little tighter, then leaned against the wall. “She knows she’s dying.”
“She’s not going to die,” Cedar practically growled.
Mae gave him a long, cool look, as if gauging the heat on a pot. “She knows there is a strong possibility her wound is fatal,” she said. “You can’t deny the truth of that. Rose isn’t a dreamy-eyed girl. She has a very practical streak about her. I think we should let her have this.”
“Have what? A stranger we barely know carting her off in the middle of the night when she’s sick and helpless? I know the sorts of things a man like him can do.”
“Cedar—,” Mae started.
“She’s dear to me, Mae,” he interrupted. “Both of you are…dear. I won’t let her catch harm.”
