Cowboy Come Home (13 page)

It was time to check on her other invalids...and decide what to do.

“Everything all right?” Mavis, one of the cleaning ladies, asked as Camille entered the hallway.

“Well, not quite. Mr. Randall has the chicken pox now.”

“What? A big man like him? Well, you’ve certainly got your hands full.”

“Yes. Do you think you and your sister could stay until six this evening? I’m sure Jake will pay overtime.”

“Well, I reckon we could, seeing as how you’re in a bind. But no later. We got our own families to feed.”

“Of course. Thank you. I’ll go finish heating up lunch. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

It was an hour after lunch, when she was reading to the two little girls, that Doc arrived.

“Anybody home?” his voice boomed from downstairs.

She hurried to the top of the stairs. “We’re all up here, Doc.”

He huffed up the stairs. “How is everyone?”

She filled him in on all the patients, including Griff.

“You’ve kept him in bed?”

“It hasn’t been hard. All he’s done is sleep.”

“I’d better check on him first.”

She joined Doc in the bedroom Griffin was using just as he awoke.

“What happened? Why am I in bed?” he growled.

“You appear to have the chicken pox. Strange.”

“What?” Camille asked, her anxiety rising.

“Well, usually it takes longer to transmit the disease, like a couple of weeks.”

Camille frowned. “Oh. Maybe they were all exposed at the same time.”

“Now, when would that be? Griffin hasn’t been out much around the town,” Doc said as he took his pulse.

“What about when his mother was buried? There were lots of people here that day. Maybe one of the children who came with his parents had it.”

“Dang it, you’re right, Camille. I knew I’d heard of another case recently, though they weren’t my patients. It was the Biggers from the other side of the county. The wife was a friend of Margaret’s. She brought her grandson with her, and I heard he broke out with pox the next day.”

“So now we know why. Will Griff be all right?”

“We have to keep him in bed, even when he starts feeling better. You hear me, Griff? This is important.”

“Can’t leave Cammy all alone with the kids,” he said, almost panting, as if even talking was too much.

“Camille will be just fine. If she isn’t, we’ll get her some help. But you gotta stay flat on your back. Okay?”

Griff barely nodded, his eyes drifting shut.

Doc stared down at him, then abruptly switched his gaze to Camille. “What was he doing when he passed out? Did he knock his head when he fell?”

Camille felt her cheeks redden. “Uh, no, he didn’t hit his head.”

“Was he standing?”

“Yes, but I was close by and kind of caught him. I couldn’t hold him up, but I helped him slide to the floor.” And she hoped Doc didn’t ask any more questions.

“Well, I guess you know the drill by now.”

“Right.” But the familiar drill would change slightly. She wasn’t about to give Griffin Randall an oatmeal bath like she did the children. Nor was she going to cover him with lotion, either. Maybe she’d get Toby to help him. Or Butch.

“You holler if you need any help,” Doc offered. “I’ll come back out this evening after dinner to check on Griff. If you’ve got some soup or something, you should feed him now. We don’t want him gettin’ too weak and dehydrated.”

When Doc left, she heated up a can of soup and fixed a big glass of lemonade. The children seemed to enjoy it. Maybe Griff would, too.

She had to awaken him again. “Griff? Griff, I need to feed you. Doc said.” She hoped mentioning Doc would make him more cooperative.

To her surprise, he didn’t resist her at all. In fact, his arms snaked around her and tugged her to his chest.

“Griff!” she shrieked in surprise.

“I’ve missed you,” he muttered, and his lips claimed hers. In spite of the pleasure his lips gave her, she could feel the heat from his fever.

Pulling away, she stared at him. “Are you all right?”

“Mmm-hmm, but you’re wearing too many clothes. Why did you get dressed?” His fingers moved to the buttons on her shirt. Fortunately, for her modesty, they were curiously clumsy and unable to accomplish their task.

“Griff, what are you doing?” she demanded, covering his fingers to stop their movement.

“Why did you get dressed? We were doing just fine without all this.”

“What are you talking about? I was just here with Doc, remember?”

“Doc wasn’t in bed with us!” he protested with a rusty laugh and leaned forward to nuzzle her neck.

In bed with us
? The man must be hallucinating. For the smallest second, she let herself join him in the dream before she jerked back to reality. “Griff? You must wake up. Please?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he muttered, his lips roving her face now.

“Griff!” He kissed her. “Stop, Griff—” He kissed her again, deeply, almost willing her to leave reality.

She finally realized that her closeness seemed only to be extending his hallucinations, not shortening them. She drew away from him, but she admitted she did so with reluctance. His touch was too enticing.

Standing a safe foot from him, she called loudly, “Griff, wake up,” and shook him forcefully.

“Huh?” he muttered, frowning.

She repeated her action until some semblance of sanity returned to his eyes.

“What?” he asked groggily.

“I have to give you more medicine and feed you some soup, Doc said.” After a look of incomprehension, she added, “Don’t you remember Doc being here?”

“We were alone,” he began.

“No! I mean, Doc was here.” Her cheeks were as red as his and she didn’t have fever as an excuse. But she couldn’t handle any more of his dreams. As much as she might crave them for reality. Why couldn’t he be so—so close when he was conscious?

After giving him more medicine, she pushed pillows behind him and fed him the soup.

“I can feed myself,” he protested in a rusty voice.

“Later, we’ll see. Right now you have to regain your strength.”

“No, I can—”

“Griffin, either you cooperate with me, or I’ll ask Butch to come take care of you.”

Her words were inspired because he immediately submitted to being fed like the babies. After he finished his meal, he began pushing back the covers.

“What is it? Where are you going?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he explained roughly. “Are you going to hold my hand?”

She fought against embarrassment. “No, but I’m going to help you walk to the door and wait for you outside. Okay?”

Since he wobbled as he came to his feet, he didn’t argue. Camille slid her arm around his waist and guided him in the right direction.

While he was in the bathroom, she found a T-shirt for him to slip into, instead of his Western shirt. The door opened and she turned around. “Why don’t you put on this T-shirt? I think you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Someone took off my jeans,” he said with a frown, instead of answering her.

“Do you sleep in your jeans?”

“No. Did Doc—?”

“No, I did. And I don’t want any fussing. Now, let’s get you out of that shirt.” She reached forward and unpopped the snaps on his shirt, revealing an impressive chest. The man’s sick. What’s wrong with you? She couldn’t be lusting after him now, could she?

Apparently, she could, she realized as her hands lingered on his skin. “I—I’ll just slide it off of you,” she said, her voice breathless.

Afterward she realized her sleep that night would be disturbed by the sight of the handsome man standing there in his cotton briefs. She wanted to run her fingers through his chest hair, to follow it to the scrap of material that saved his modesty.

“The T-shirt?” he reminded her, one eyebrow quirked up.

Her cheeks flamed as she held the T-shirt out to him. He knew. He definitely knew.

It was time for her to tuck him back into bed and remove herself from the danger zone.

The rest of the afternoon, she stayed as far away from him as she could. After Toby came home, she sent him up to check on Griffin and deliver more lemonade.

“Is he going to be all right?” Toby asked when he came back down with the empty glass.

“Why? What’s wrong?” she asked, fear clutching her throat. Had her avoidance of Griff caused harm?

“He can hardly sit up. And he’s already back asleep.”

She sighed. “No, that’s okay. Doc said he’d be tired. We just have to be sure his fever doesn’t get too high and he gets some rest. You did give him his medicine, didn’t you?”

“Yep. What do I do next?”

She smiled at the solemn little boy. “Why don’t you sit down and have milk and cookies and tell me about your day?”

“You mean it?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“I mean it. The girls are playing in the den, Torie’s in the bed over there, and the boys are sleeping. Mavis and Ethel will hear them if they wake up.”

She served him a snack and sat down for a visit. It was the sanest few moments she’d had since Griff had collapsed.

SHE AND TOBY WERE both exhausted by the time the children went to bed at eight o’clock. Toby then took a book to his room to read for a while before going to sleep.

“Not too late, Toby. You’ve had a long day.”

“I know. It’ll be nice when Mom and Daddy come home, won’t it?” he said, his face wistful.

“Yes, it will. I bet they will bring you back a present.”

“Daddy said he’d bring me a coconut.” He gave her a puzzled look. “What will I do with it?”

“Take it to school. No one else will have one.”

“Hey, yeah, that’s right. Okay. Night, Camille.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

The house was suddenly quiet and still. She was exhausted, knowing she wouldn’t last much longer. She mixed another large pitcher of lemonade for the morning and took more food out of the freezer to thaw out overnight.

Griffin hadn’t eaten much dinner, even though the chicken pot pie was tender and tasty. He might need more food, but she figured he had another need or two that she couldn’t meet.

Crossing to the phone, she called the bunkhouse and asked for Butch. He immediately agreed to help her and arrived on her doorstep only minutes later.

“I really appreciate this, Butch,” she said with a weary smile.

“No problem. I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time. Want me to stay in tomorrow and help?”

She was tempted, but then she shook her head no. “Not yet. Doc will be out tomorrow to lend a hand. If you’ll just help him shower and, er, everything and get him in clean clothes, I think he’ll sleep a little better.”

Tiptoeing upstairs, she opened the door to his room.

“What?” he growled.

“I thought you might enjoy getting cleaned up, Griff. I got Butch to come help out.”

Griffin didn’t appear pleased, and she remembered his earlier reaction when Butch had called at the house. Should she have asked for another man to help? She was too tired to worry about that now.

“Come on, cowboy,” Butch said in hearty tones, stepping around Camille. “Let’s go stick you in the shower so the lady won’t refuse to have anything to do with you.” As he reached for Griff, he nodded toward Camille. “You go do whatever else you have to do, and I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

“I’m going to change the sheets, so I’ll be nearby,” she assured him. She opened a drawer and pulled out clean underwear and a T-shirt and handed them to Butch.

After the two men disappeared into the bath, she changed the bedding. She was sitting on the side of the bed when the door opened, letting out a little steam along with the two men. “Finished already?” she asked with an extra effort to be cheerful.

“Yeah. Come on, buddy, let’s get you back to bed,” Butch said.

Griffin said nothing, but Camille read the weariness in his face. Even that short time out of bed had exhausted him.

Once he was tucked into the clean bed, she asked, “Can I get you something to eat?”

“Any ice cream?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

She motioned for Butch to follow her, and they descended the stairs together. “Thanks for your help.”

“Glad to do it. Is he going to be all right?”

“Yes, of course. It’s just that chicken pox in men is much more severe.”

“Well, call me anytime you need me. And after all this is over and Jake and the guys are back, will you let me take you out to dinner? I’d like to get to know you better.”

She smiled, but she also remembered Griffs interpretation of their earlier encounter. She wasn’t going to lead anyone on. “That would be nice, but I’m going to be leaving soon.”

“Leaving? Where are you going?”

She shrugged. “I think I’m going back to school to get some special training. I have to find a way to support myself now.”

“That’s a damn shame. But I’ll count on at least having dinner with you.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, as she had done to him earlier, so she couldn’t complain.

“Good night, Butch.”

When she returned to Griff’s bedside, he had his eyes closed. As she sat down on the edge of the bed, he opened them, however, and reached for another pillow to shove behind his head. “Where’d that cowboy go?”

“Butch? Do you need him again?”

“I didn’t need him at all,” he protested with a burr of exhaustion in his voice.

“I thought you would protest if I helped you shower,” she countered, and then remembered his earlier behavior when she was trying to awaken him. Maybe he wouldn’t have protested after all.

“Did you kiss him again?”

“No!” And she wasn’t going to mention that Butch had kissed her.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Probably because I’m tired,” she snapped.

One shaky finger traced her cheek. Then he asked softly, “How are you doing?”

Her heart flipped over. How sweet for him to be concerned for her. “Fine. How about you?” She couldn’t help but reach out and push his hair back from his forehead.

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Why? Catching the chicken pox wasn’t your idea.”

“I should’ve caught them as a kid, but my mother didn’t want me to play much with other children.”