hoped she wouldn’t die on him. Inside, he railed against the circumstances that had made this person his responsibility. He felt bad for her, really bad. But, she wasn’t his problem!
He took a deep breath and returned to his ministrations. Her hair needed washing, but there was nothing he could do about that now. It would have to wait. After cleaning her as well as possible, with the exception of her feet, Lance once again performed his earlier task.
He then went to his closet and removed one of his shirts and a pair of sweat pants. With some difficulty, he managed to get the clothes on her but it was like working with a huge lifeless doll. As he buttoned the shirt, she opened her good eye again. She was very drowsy, but he could tell she was fighting the tranquilizer. Ignoring her, he moved down to her feet.
She tried to cower away, but her movements were uncoordinated. “Are you going to hurt me?” she whispered, her voice hoarse and gravelly.
“Probably,” he said, his expression unreadable.
Chapter 20
“But not intentionally,” he continued, his deep rumbling voice deceptively mild in her ear and incongruous with his rough appearance. “Your feet are in bad shape. I think they’re infected. It’s going to be uncomfortable for you when I clean them. ”
He reached for her and she shrank away from his hand, but he merely cradled the back of her head. Gently he raised it and placed a mug to her lips. “Drink,” he said. “But take it slow.”
Turning her head back and forth, resisting the cup, Brook asked, “What’s in it?”
“Just water. Drink.”
Brook, thirst strong, decided to comply rather than anger him. She drank, and the cold water felt like a balm on her chapped lips. It was like tonic going down her throat, soothing and cooling her parched tissues, so raw from all the screaming and crying of the past few days. She was still thirsty when he set the cup aside. He turned to look at her before speaking.
“Why don’t you try to go back to sleep? I gave you a tranquilizer. Just give in to it and let it work. You’re safe here. I’m going to take care of you. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. There’s nothing for you to worry about, and nothing you need to do. Just sleep now.” His voice was hypnotic, the deep even tones hard to resist. It lulled her against her will.
Still, she fought the medication. In her foggy mind, Brook first became aware that she was dressed and almost wept with gratitude. The man had covered her nakedness
In her dreams she wandered through shadows of fear and uncertainty. Dreams in which images of Jase and his gang blurred and alternated insanely with Clark’s face, and with the vision of a crazed killer howling over a mangled body in the forest. She barely registered the touch of Lance’s hands on her sore feet, pulling debris from her wounds, cleaning them, and covering them with salve. She was blissfully distant from the physical pain, but trapped in nightmares of terror and confusion.
Lance put away his first aid supplies and cleaned up around the daybed. Only then did his thoughts return to Belinda.
Chapter 21
While the woman slept, Lance grabbed a tarp and his gear, and went back to the clearing. Belinda’s carcass was still there, cold and bloodless. Luckily, the lion had not punctured the gut when she had attacked. Belinda had appeared to be more savaged than she actually was. He burned with the urge to lay an ambush for the big cat. He quickly field-dressed the dead animal, leaving the organs behind, and hauled her back home. He hung the carcass in the shed to age. His mouth set firm as he thought again of the troubles that had beset him of late. His unsuccessful installation of the fence, the cougar, and now, the mysterious, injured woman in his cabin. But mostly, his thoughts were on the woman as his hands performed their routine tasks.
Entering the cabin again, he assured himself she was still sleeping, as peacefully as possible under the circumstances, and then moved to the bathroom to wash up. What a quirk of fate, he thought as he dried his hands and face.
Chapter 22
Brook tossed and turned for several hours. Lance went about his chores, coming in to check on her from time to time. Very late in the evening, Brook awoke, foggy but attentive. Pressure from her bladder had finally wormed its way through the layers of sedation. She became aware of a man moving about in the same room with her. Although she didn’t want to bring attention to herself, she just couldn’t wait. She called out, her voice raspy and barely audible. “Mister, I need to use the bathroom, now. I mean, NOW!” If she didn’t get to a toilet, she was going to wet the bed.
Lance turned from the stove where he was simmering some meat for a stew.
“You’re awake,” he said in a conversational tone. He was relieved to hear she needed the bathroom. He had been worried she might have sustained an injury to her urinary tract, something beyond his basic skill to detect, some internal damage or infection. This was a good sign, in his opinion.
She struggled to sit up. “Please, I need to go, NOW!”
He moved quickly to her bedside. “Better let me help you,” he said. “You probably shouldn’t put any weight on those feet just yet.”
Brook shied back but realized she needed his assistance. She let the man lift and carry her to a small room that held a strange-looking toilet, a table with a large bowl on it equipped with a hand pump, a mirrored cabinet, and several towels hanging from pegs. In the corner was an old claw-foot bathtub partially hidden behind a curtain.
The man stood her carefully in front of the commode, supporting her with one arm to ease the burden on her feet. With efficient movements, he quickly pulled the sweat pants down and lowered her to the toilet. It happened so fast, she was seated before the embarrassment could take hold.
“Please,” she said in a small voice, humiliated by her vulnerability. He looked down at her, his eyebrows raised in query. “Please don’t watch me.”
“I wouldn’t,” he said, surprised. “It never even occurred to me to do so. I’ll wait outside the door. If you need me, I’ll be close by. Just call. I’m just going to go add the vegetables to the stew.” He backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Brook worked to release her urine and had to concentrate in order to do so. She was still very sore and the flow, when it finally came, felt like battery acid pouring from her. She squirmed on the seat in an attempt to lessen the pain. After dabbing gently with tissue, she was relieved to see no blood on the paper. She felt somewhat clearer in her mind, but still lethargic and drugged. Her body was a mass of various aches and pains, but her feet seemed to be the worst. Worse even than her privates which throbbed with a dull unrelenting ache. Sharp pains, dull pains, deep pains, surface pains…she had them all.
She remained seated for a few moments.
