"Where do you hurt?"

"All over," she admitted. Then she quickly added, "But it's not that bad. I'll work it out. It's just that I've been lying still and soreness has set in. Muscles, probably." Her voice turned thin. "I'm sorry for being such a molly-coddle."

Deke tightened his arm around her. "I think you're doin' just fine," he told her, and he meant it. Better than fine. Most white women never would have started out on this journey. "Where are you hurtin' the worst?"

He felt the tension that crept into her slender frame. "I, um..." She dragged in a shaky breath. "My unmentionables, mainly."

"Your what?" He bent close again, fairly certain he had misunderstood.

"My unmentionables," she said more clearly.

Despite the gravity of the situation, he smiled slightly, tempted to wring her little neck. Her unmentionables? He could see he had his work cut out for him. "Your breasts? Where, honey?"

"Mr. Sheridan!" she said in an indignant little voice. "For shame!"

He splayed a hand low on her belly. "Here?"

She clasped his wrist. "Just because I'm feeling a tad ill doesn't mean I intend to abandon all propriety."

Deke wasn't sure what the hell propriety was, and he didn't particularly care. He kneaded her belly, and she gasped. Her obvious tenderness in that area answered one of his questions. For just an instant, panic jolted through him. Childbed fever? Then he discarded the notion. She'd be on fire with fever if that were the case, and so sick she could scarcely stand up.

Not that he intended to take this lightly. Her symptoms could be the beginning stages, and he'd be a fool not to treat them accordingly.

"You hurtin' anywhere else?" When she didn't immediately answer him, he nearly lost his patience. "In your breasts?" Another long silence. "Boston? Goddammit, answer me. This ain't no time to be bashful."

She hunched her shoulders, angled an arm over her chest as if she feared he might attempt to touch her there as well, and finally nodded her head. Deke clenched his teeth. So much for food and coffee as a cure. This might be more serious than he had first thought, and with her being so bashful ... Jesus. It was definitely going to be one hell of a long night.

Three hours later, Deke knelt at Laura's side where he had laid her earlier and nudged her awake. Her eyes went wide as she glanced uneasily into the blackness beyond the light of the fire he had built.

"We're in an old mine," he explained as he held out a steaming tin cup to her. "I hid the horses and covered the entrance with brush so no one can see the fire. There's a couple of air shafts to bleed out the smoke. We'll be safe in here."

She drew her bleary gaze back to him, then focused on the cup. Placing a hand over her middle, she said, "I'm nauseated. I don't care for anything to drink."

Deke tried an encouraging smile. He had to get the potion down her. Without it, she would never let him touch her without putting up a fight. He had no doubt that he could overpower her. The Cheyenne had taught him more than a few tricks when it came to handling frantic females, but just the thought of doing such things to Laura, even for her own good, made him feel sick. "This here'll take care of your stomach," he promised. "And it'll help if you do got a fever."

She sat partway up and craned her neck to peer into the cup. "What is it?"

"Ujapihgi, medicine. Or maybe a better word's tea." He flashed her another smile and moved the cup close. "Try a sip." When she jerked back, he laughed and said, "What's the matter? You think I might poison you?"

"Is it some kind of Indian concoction?"

Deke wasn't going to lie to her. "My Cheyenne mother is a medicine woman, and she taught me to make it. Just 'cause it's an Indian remedy don't make it bad, honey."

She wrinkled her nose. "What went into it? What's it supposed to do?"

"Several things went into it," he admitted. "Some bark and roots I gathered up, and some cactus buttons I had in my bags. As for what it does, I kinda mixed remedies to save you havin' to drink too many different things. A fever remedy, for one, and it'll help ease that pain in your belly." He hesitated, then added, "There's a couple of dream medicines in it, too."

"Dream medicines?"

"To relax you."

She shot him a suspicious glance. Deke met her gaze, trying his best to look harmless.

"What kind of dream medicine?"

"Just drink it, Boston. Please?"

"No. I don't wish to be relaxed."

Deke rubbed his chin and sighed. "You gotta drink it. Pain in the gut like you got is nothin' to play around with so soon after childbirth. You could end up real sick. How can I stop that from happenin' if you won't take the medicine?"

"I don't mind plain medicine. It's the dream part that's worrying me."

He tried for the harmless look again. "Hey, honey, don't you trust me?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"Jesus Christ."

"There, you see? You respect nothing, not even the Son of God."

"He's the son of your God, not mine."

"If you don't believe in Him, why do you constantly petition for His divine intervention?"

"For his what?"

She pushed the cup back at him. "Never mind. Suffice it to say that I shan't be consuming a relaxant. It would be foolhardy when in the company of a man of your godless persuasions."

"I ain't godless. Hell, I bet I got more gods than you. Wanna count?"

"No, thank you. It's a case of quantity versus quality, I'm sure."

Determined, Deke curled her hands around the cup. Her fragile little fingers felt hot. Then he decided it had to be the heat radiating from the cup that be felt. Gazing into her wary eyes, he considered his options. To hell with looking harmless. He wasn't any good at it.

"Boston, we got a problem. The way I'm seein' it, one way or another, you gotta drink that tea. You can save me and yourself a lot of trouble if you do it on your own."

She raised her chin in stubborn defiance. "Please don't misinterpret this as a challenge to your considerable arrogance, Mr. Sheridan, but as strong as you may be, it would be nigh unto impossible to make me swallow. In the attempt, most of your precious tea would be spilled."

Deke regarded her for several tense seconds. "I can get that tea down you and never spill a drop. It's a trick I learned from the Cheyenne. Easy for me, not too fun for you, but it works. Now, are you gonna drink it, or should I get started?"

Chapter 11.

*Frowning as if she were contemplating his threat and weighing her chances, Laura swayed slightly, clearly so weak that sitting up took all her concentration. "You're a miserable wretch."

"I know. I'm a miserable lot of things. But I make a fair tea. Take a sip." Deke tried for another harmless smile, for good measure. "You can trust me, honey. You got my word on it."

With a resigned expression clouding her sweet face, she finally put the cup to her lips, then grimaced at the taste. "Oh, lands, it's awful! Sweet and bitter at once.

"I know." He rocked back on his heels. "Just take it slow. The more you drink, the better it'll taste. By the bottom of the cup, you'll be askin' for more."

She took another sip and shuddered. "Somehow, I doubt that." Licking the bittersweet taste from the corner of her mouth, she lowered the cup to her lap. Her attention came to rest on the extra bark and plants that Deke had resting near the fire. "What are the reeds for?"

Deke glanced over his shoulder. He had searched high and low to find the hollow woody stalks, no easy task in the darkness. With a shrug that he hoped appeared casual, he said, "They're part of one of the remedies my mother taught me to make." That wasn't exactly a lie. Without the reeds, he couldn't get the medicine inside of her to treat the internal inflammation, which he felt certain was responsible, at least in part, for that tenderness in her abdomen. He had no intention of telling Laura that, however. A woman as bashful as she was would guard her "unmentionables" until her dying breath. He inclined his head at the cup. "Another sip."

She lifted the tin container obediently to her lips. "Mm, you're right. After the first shock, it isn't as bitter." She smiled wanly and downed another mouthful. "You know, I do believe it is settling my stomach."

Deke moved to crouch at the fire and stir the thick paste simmering over the low flames at the outer edge.

"What's that?" she inquired.

"A poultice mixture." Hoping she wouldn't notice the third container of remedy, which already sat to one side cooling, he reached to stir the pot heating at the center of the fire. "And this is..." He shrugged. "I reckon the best word for this stuff is tea, like I said." He gestured at the cup she held. "I can't recollect all the names of the plants that went in it. I just know 'em when I see 'em.

"When I was a boy, I had to go gatherin' with my mother, and while we was pickin', she explained what the different barks and roots was used for. Sometimes I went along with her when she was doctorin', mainly to help carry stuff. Even so, I learned a lot. I'm not as good as her, of course, but I'm a fair hand at healin'. Ain't often I lose a sick cow, anyways, and that's more'n I can say for most ranchers."

She strangled on a swallow. "You use your mother's medicine on cows?" She eyed the cup askance.

Deke chuckled. "Trust me, Boston. I ain't got you confused with a cow."

"I should hope not."

"Not a chance. Some women, maybe, but you're the farthest thing from a cow I ever seen."

A slight blush crept up her neck, and he thought he glimpsed a pleased smile on her softly curved mouth. "Really?"

"Yep. No tail."

Her eyes widened, then a dimple flashed in her cheek. "You, sirrah, are unconscionable."

"Thank you."

"It isn't a compliment. It means you are without conscience."

"Way I see it, Boston, a conscience ain't much use anyhow." He rapped the spoon on the edge of the pot. "Just makes a man feel bad. No point in that. What's done is done."

"Some people are guided by conscience and, as a consequence, refrain from doing those things they fear will make them regretful."

He gave her a slow grin. "What fun would that be?"

She made an exasperated noise. "You are clearly beyond help."

"But I'll die happy."

She drained the cup, set it aside, and sank back onto the blanket, her lashes sweeping low over her beautiful eyes. For a very long while, she lay quiet. Then she suddenly said, "How very lucky you were. Going gathering and doctoring with your mother, I mean. I never knew mine."

Deke's interest was piqued. "Not at all?"

She angled an arm over her brow, looking as though the least movement took all her strength. "She died when I was born."

His heart caught. "From childbed fever?

It took a second for her to reply. "No, she bled to death while giving birth to me." He saw her fingers curl weakly. "The physician very nearly didn't save me. My father always..."

"Always what?"

Her throat worked to swallow. "I think he hates me a little because I caused her death."

Deke gave the thick mixture at the edge of the fire another stir to make sure it wasn't sticking to the bottom of the pot. White men. Though their blood ran in his veins, he doubted he'd ever understand them. "Bein' born wasn't exactly your fault, Boston. How could he hold that against you?"

She sighed. "I don't believe he sees it that way."

Sitting back on his heels, he held his palms over the flames to warm them. A lengthy silence fell. Gazing thoughtfully into the licking tongues of fire, he mentally ticked away the passing minutes. After what he judged an adequate passage of time, he pushed to his feet, wondering how much longer it might take for the tea to affect her. A smile touched his mouth as he recalled the times in his youth when he had ingested dream medicine.

Being female, Laura wasn't on a quest, of course, and her visions probably wouldn't be ones of divine edict, but she was bound to see beyond herself. When the effects wore off, she would have little recollection of this reality, but detailed memories of another. What had to be done had to be done, but there was no point in making her suffer through it when he had a means of sparing her.

As he drew closer, Deke found himself wishing she had the strength to tend herself. Damn his yellow streak. She couldn't even tidy her braid. He just hoped the tea would make her completely unaware. If it didn't, she might never forgive him for this night's work.

"How you feelin'?"

She drew her arm from her eyes. "Less nauseated."

Deke's worry intensified. He guessed that it had been twenty-five minutes or more since she had drained the cup, and the way he recalled, the tea's first effects came on far more quickly. So far, Laura seemed completely lucid. "Dizzy-headed?"

"A bit."

That was a good sign. Deke closed the remaining distance between them. "How's the belly? Still hurt?"

She took refuge behind her arm again. "You think I'm rather silly, don't you?"

He hunkered beside her. "Silly?"