Chapter 9
“Ingrid, how much chloral hydrate did you add to his glass last night?” John asked as he leaned over Clint to make certain he was still breathing.
“Just a dash, like you told me,” Ingrid replied, kneeling beside her son and placing her hand on his chest. “He needed some rest. He told me he hadn’t slept much since he left Santa Fe. From the looks of him, he couldn’t go on that way or he would be the next one to get sick. I think he was planning on riding out again today if Amelia decides to stay in La Grange. She looked up at John. “Is he going to be okay?”
John nodded. “He’ll be fine. Now don’t worry. I wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t look like he was ready to drop from exhaustion. Maybe we can talk him into leaving tomorrow. But you want him back by Christmas, so he needs to leave soon.” John stood and walked to the door. “While you take Amelia some breakfast, I’ll see to the animals.”
* * *
“Did Clint leave?” Amelia asked Ingrid when she entered the bedroom.
“No, he’s still sleeping.” Ingrid placed the tray on the table while she propped up pillows behind Amelia.
“I’m sure he’s worn-out. He never slept on our way back. Every time I woke up, he was watching over me.”
“He was very worried about you.” Ingrid placed the tray on her lap.
“Ingrid, he was heartbroken when he thought you had died. He rode all of the way to Honey Creek grieving for his family, with no one to share his heartache.”
“I know. Clint has always been a solitary man, not one to share what’s on his mind. But I think he’s learned he can’t run from his grief; it always rides with him.”
“He has so much love to give. I saw that when he was with the girls,” Amelia reflected.
Ingrid smiled. “Clint loves deeply. Sometimes I think he has loved too deeply. He refused to accept the fact that he couldn’t always protect the ones he loved from the evils in the world.”
Amelia nodded. “He looks after everyone, like a mother hen.”
Laughing, Ingrid said, “I think you have him pegged, but you’d better not let him hear you compare him to a mother hen. More like a protective lion.”
Amelia smiled. “I suppose that is a more apt description of him. He is fierce when provoked.” Amelia told her about the three men who came into their camp on the way home.
“I’m surprised Clint didn’t shoot all three of them if they threatened you. He was a sharpshooter in the war.”
“I didn’t know that, but he made a very accurate shot that night.”
Pointing to the tray, Ingrid asked, “Do you need help today?”
“No, I think I’m strong enough to hold a fork.” She looked at the tray of food. “This looks delicious. Please don’t be upset if I can’t eat all of it, though.”
“Eat what you can.” Ingrid sat in the chair and drank a cup of coffee while they talked. “Folks are moving back now. I was wondering if you wanted to come back.”
“I would like to, but I’m not sure I can keep the ranch. The Nelsons were kind enough to offer us a place with them wherever they decide to go.”
“You and the girls are welcome to stay here as long as you like.”
“Ingrid, you and your son have already done too much for me.”
* * *
Hours later, Clint awoke feeling confused. He was still on the floor in front of the fire with the dogs cuddled up next to him, but he had no idea what time it was. He could tell by the sun shining through the window that it was well past dawn. He jumped up and ran to Amelia’s bedroom.
“Good morning.” Ingrid motioned him into the room. “Amelia and I were just talking about what’s been happening in town since she left.”
“What time is it?” Clint asked, still groggy.
“It’s nearly two o’clock. I was just about to prepare lunch.” Ingrid headed to the kitchen, leaving Clint alone with Amelia.
He walked to the chair his mother had vacated and sat down. “I can’t believe I slept so long.”
“You look better,” Amelia told him.
Scratching his two-, or was it a three-day-old beard, Clint was surprised he didn’t scare her to death. He needed to see to his grooming. “How are you feeling?”
“Very well. Doc Sims says I’m on the mend.”
Clint leaned back in the chair, feeling more relaxed than he had in days. “That’s good news.”
“Your mother told me many families are returning home. The doc thinks the fever has run its course in La Grange.”
“I know.” Clint paused for a moment, debating whether he should tell her what was on his mind. He decided he needed to get his thoughts in order before having that discussion. “Do you need anything?”
“No, your mother has taken good care of me. I’m afraid I’ve been a burden to you both.”
“You’re not a burden.” He stood and walked to the door. “I need to get cleaned up. I’ll see you later.”
Clint walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He told his mother that he would be riding to town for some supplies. “Make a list of what you need and I will bring it back with me.”
* * *
By the time Clint returned from town, it was dinnertime. He walked through the front door with his arms loaded down with packages wrapped in brown paper tied with twine. He piled the packages on the table.
Ingrid turned from the stove, brushed her hands over her apron and pointed to the packages. “What is this?”
Clint pointed to one large sack. “Those are the supplies you needed.” He handed her a large bundle. “This is
