Free Fired Up by Mary Connealy Page B

Wolf is resting at Luke’s cabin,” Glynna said.
    As always, the mention of Luke’s name had an almost miraculous effect in gaining Anemy’s cooperation. Despite the risk to Luke, because he was now exposed to the measles, they’d have never been allowed to help the Kiowa if he wasn’t here working beside them.
    Dare left the poultice. Glynna, with Anemy’s and Paul’s help, tended the children through that night and the following day.
    A wail went up through the village too often. Glynna knew it meant another had died. The children held on. Dare, on one of his visits, said their fevers had lessened. Of course, the sickest had succumbed before the group from the S Bar S had arrived.
    Glynna only knew the day passed because of the fading light. She was still on her knees, replacing poultices, bathing fevered bodies, dosing willow bark.
    Dare came into the teepee. “I’ll watch the little ones. There’s food. Go eat and get a few hours’ sleep.”
    Glynna lifted her eyes from the little girl she tended. Only then, as if she felt the effort it took to focus on Dare, did she realize how near to collapsing she was. “I can keep working.”
    â€œThe children are asleep right now. They won’t struggle as I examine them and listen to see if their lungs are clear. This is a good chance for you to get yourself something to eat and then a little sleep. I promise I’ll wake you if I need help.”
    â€œYou need sleep, too,” Glynna said. She wanted to say more, but she noticed Paul had fallen asleep where he sat. His head was slumped forward and his eyes were closed.
    Glynna stood and stumbled. Dare caught her and prevented her from tumbling onto her patient.
    â€œYou’re done in, Glynna. Take a break now. I need you rested.” Dare didn’t let her go.
    Glynna realized she was leaning almost all her weight on him. In the dim light of the teepee fire she saw the strength in Dare. He’d been up for just as long as she had, and he’d been hurt in the avalanche.
    â€œHow’s your back?” she whispered.
    His blond brows arched in surprise. Then his mustache bent upward in a tight smile. “Believe it or not, I forgot about my back. I reckon that means it’s okay.”
    It couldn’t begin to be okay, but Glynna knew he’d never quit working, so she didn’t bother to chide him. She just stood there, supported by him, another burden. Their locked gaze seemed so open, as if she could look into his soul and see his need to heal, his grief when he failed, and his strength to bear what he must.
    â€œYou’re a fine doctor. I don’t care what papers you’ve earned or not earned.”
    â€œNo, Glynna, I—”
    She rested her fingertips on his mouth to stop his protest. “We can argue about what you should be doing with your life another day. Save your energy for doctoring these good people.”
    The prickle of his mustache on her fingers reached well past her hand until she seemed to feel it all up her arm, into her heart. Her very tender, very untrusting heart.
    Lifting her hand away, she stood on her own two feet. They were too close, and she was drawn to him like she’d never been to either of her husbands.
    For one moment he leaned closer, and she thought he’d kiss her—and even hoped it.
    A soft cry from one of the children had them straightening away from each other.
    Dare jerked his head toward the teepee entrance. “Go. Take Paul and you two get something to eat. One of the women made stew. Make sure to savor it—you won’t get too many chances to eat buffalo.”
    Glynna decided retreat was a wonderful idea. Besides, being near Dare right now was too confusing. “Wake me when it’s your turn to get some sleep.”
    Dare’s eyes flickered to her lips, then away.
    She turned to awaken Paul and saw he was watching them. Paul sprang to his feet and with