Free Slocum and the Spirit Bear (9781101618790) by Jake Logan Page A

peek over her shoulder. “Go on and go with her, Mr. Slocum. My ma’s a real good doctor.”
    In response to the question written across Slocum’s face, she said, “No, I am not a doctor. I do know a thing or two about mending cuts or tending to bumps and bruises, though.”
    â€œShe’s real good at it,” James said. “I bet she can get you feeling right as rain if you do what she says!”
    â€œI believe my son just wants to sit up here and drive the wagon on his own, but . . .”
    â€œBut,” Slocum conceded, “he does have a point. Fine. I’ll get in the back so we can get moving again.”
    Despite his efforts to discourage her from helping him, Theresa insisted on draping one of Slocum’s arms across her shoulders as if he were nursing a broken leg. Since several of the others were watching, he kept his chin up and walked as steadily as he could while loudly rebuffing her attempts to coddle him. After he and Theresa had disappeared inside her wagon, Slocum heard some snickering at what were surely lewd guesses as to what they were truly doing once that tarp had been pulled across the opening behind them.
    The interior of Theresa’s wagon was crammed with trunks, boxes, and a few pieces of furniture, all stacked neatly along the back and left side of the wagon. There was an area along the right side, just wide enough for someone to squeeze through if they turned themselves sideways, that she and James had been using for their sleeping quarters. Some of the boy’s books and a quilt Theresa had been working on were strewn at the back of the space. She pushed all of that aside so she could reach up to pull down some of the blankets and bedding that had been stuffed on top of the crates.
    â€œHere,” she said while piling some pillows on the floor. “Lay down and put that leg up.”
    Slocum did as he was told. “You know,” he grunted, “it’s less comfortable wedging myself in here than if I was sitting up front.”
    She ignored that and stuffed a few folded blankets beneath his bent knee just in time to get it in place before the wagon started rolling again. “Take off that boot and let me have a look.”
    Once again, Slocum followed orders. His foot, ankle, and most of his calf were covered in thick, dark bruises. When she saw that, Theresa let out a hissing breath as if she was the one feeling all of that wear and tear. “What happened?”
    â€œGot hung up in one of my stirrups,” he grudgingly said. “Just like some stupid kid who’s never seen the back of a horse before.”
    â€œThat happened when you and Ed were ambushed?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œThere was more that happened than what you told us, wasn’t there?” When Slocum didn’t answer, she gave his foot a quick squeeze.
    â€œOw!”
    â€œTell me the rest of what happened.”
    â€œThere isn’t much.” Seeing that her hand was still poised above his sore foot, he quickly added, “Those men who ambushed us were strange, is all. There was a strange smell around them. I thought it was like . . .” Slocum stopped and leaned back into the folded blankets as Theresa hovered less than an inch in front of his face. “What are you doing?”
    â€œThere’s something on your face.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œI don’t know. Your eyes are red. Looks like you’re tearing up.”
    Slocum had felt a burning in his eyes, but hadn’t taken much notice of it since his twisted leg had hurt so much. With all the wind in his face while riding and the dirt that had been kicked up in the ambush, he hadn’t wasted much thought on why his eyes had been burning. Theresa, on the other hand, was much more concerned.
    â€œHold still,” she said. Having wrapped a kerchief around one hand, she dabbed at his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose as well as