“It’s from Fort Worth. The store’s name is on the instructions.”
“When I have time, I’ll need to go through his things and look for an address for his family. I’m sure they’ll want to know what’s happened.”
Davie tied back the flap on the tent to keep the entrance open. “I didn’t find anything like that where I looked.”
“Children, remember this belongs to someone else and be very careful with it. I don’t think Mr. Craig will mind you playing in it since you’ve saved it from mildew.”
She watched them a while before returning to the house. Seeing them so happy filled her with joy. They’d been too solemn for far too long.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte was cooling the patient’s face with a damp cloth when his eyes fluttered. Startled, she cried, “Oh!”
Blue eyes stared into hers before his gaze darted around the room.
Recovering her wits, she smiled at the man. “I’m glad to see you’ve awakened. We’ve been worried about you.”
“Where am I? Who are you?”
She wasn’t surprised at the frantic expression in Mr. Craig’s eyes.
“I’m Charlotte Dunn and this is the Dunn Ranch. Your horse threw you and you hit your head on a stone. The doctor treated you and will be by tomorrow to check your progress.”
“What the devil am I doing here?”
“If you mean our house, my sons saw you fall. We brought you here in a wagon. You were on our ranch land so this was much closer than town. Getting you into the wagon was difficult. When we got to the house, the minister was visiting and helped my son and I get you into the house.”
“I don’t remember.” Panic crossed his face. “Lord help me! I can’t remember my name or why I was on your land.”
“Your name is Bret Craig. We weren’t prying but my son looked in your saddlebags to see if he could learn who you were. You may have temporary amnesia.”
“Bret Craig… Bret Craig… doesn’t even sound familiar.” His voice rose to a frenzy, “Why can’t I remember anything?”
“Don’t fret, Mr. Craig. As I said, you hit your head on a stone when you fell. I’m sure your loss of memory is temporary. As you heal you’ll remember.”
He rubbed his temples. “Your husband around?”
“I’m a widow. My husband recently died. My three children and I live here.”
He dropped his hands to meet her gaze. “Sorry for your loss. Must be hard for you.”
Hard was an understatement. “Let me give you a drink of water. The doctor left a powder for the pain when you woke.” She poured a glass from the pitcher on the washstand and stirred in the powder.
“Thank you. My throat feels like sandpaper and my head hurts like a… like someone is pounding on it.” After he’d sipped most of the water in the glass, he let his head relax against the pillows.
“Drink all of it so you’ve had all the powder.” When he’d finished the water, she set the glass on the lamp table where he could reach it and set the pitcher beside the glass. “Would you like some soup? You must be hungry.”
“I’d like something.” He tried to rise and fell back.
She adjusted his cover. “Stay where you are and I’ll bring your soup and coffee. Do you take your coffee black?”
He appeared calmer. “With milk if you have it but black is okay.”
“Relax and I’ll be back soon.”
She stopped by the boys’ room. Davie was sitting up reading but Jimmy was sound asleep. She motioned Davie to come to the hall.
“I don’t have any britches on.”
She turned her back until Davie appeared at her elbow.
“Mr. Craig is awake. I’m going to prepare soup and coffee for him. Perhaps you could go ask if he needs a chamber pot. Probably my asking would embarrass him.” Certainly, it would embarrass her.
“I’ll fetch it for him like I did for Papa.”
She and Davie went separate ways. Hoping Mr. Craig would wake, she’d saved a bit of roast beef for the visitor’s soup. Now she set the meat, a potato, a carrot, a tomato, and seasoning simmering. While she waited for the soup to flavor and the vegetables to become tender, she pondered their guest. When the vegetables were tender, she prepared a tray with two slices of bread, and the utensils Mr. Craig would need.
When everything else was ready, she poured a cup of coffee and set it on the tray beside the large bowl of soup. She carried the tray to the bedroom.
Davie sat in the chair talking to Mr. Craig but stood when he saw her. “Do you need help, Mama?”
She set the serving of food on the foot of the mattress. “Thank you, Davie, but you can go back to your room now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’ll call if you need me, right?” He appeared worried. Her eldest son was especially protective now that he was the man of the house.
“Of course.” She concentrated on the patient. “Do you feel well enough to feed yourself or shall I help you?”
“I can manage. I’m feeling hungry except this ache makes me sick at my stomach. Hope I don’t throw up the meal. Wonder how long I’ll have this pounding inside my head.”
Charlotte helped him sit forward enough that he could eat. “I’m sorry you have to contend with the pain but perhaps the powder will have eased the ache by the time you finish your soup. The doctor thought you were lucky the fall didn’t kill you.”
He sipped the coffee and
