"Consider them found. We’ll take the wagon," Erna said with determination, Faith giving a small, encouraging nod.
The Texas sun hung heavy in the sky as Deborah watched her friends set about their tasks. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and returned to Aaron's bedside. It wasn't long before the women started returning, each one bearing news or goods in hand.
"Found them, Deb," Faith reported breathlessly as she and Erna returned, dust coating their dresses. "But it’s not pretty—every last one of them is hurt. We got them all in the wagon, and we’re helping them inside.”
"Lord have mercy," Deborah murmured, her heart sinking. "We'll need the doctor again."
"Already sent David to fetch him," Brenda assured her, patting Deborah's shoulder with a calloused hand.
The doctor arrived, his bag of instruments clinking softly with each step. He went to work, examining each injured hand with a practiced eye. The men were stoic, their faces tight with pain but trying to remain strong in front of the women.
"Several will need to go to Fort Worth," the doctor said gravely after his assessments. "I fear they may not make it if they don't get proper care."
"Then to Fort Worth they must go," Brenda stated, her voice brooking no argument. "We'll see to it. We just have to get them back into the wagon. Which ones need to go to the hospital there?"
"Thank you all," Deborah said, feeling a wellspring of gratitude for these strong women.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ranch, the men gathered in the dimming light on the porch. Deborah stood with them, her hands folded in front of her dress, a smudge of dirt on her cheek that she hadn't noticed. The men exchanged resolute nods, their faces set with determination.
"Look here," Amos began, his voice steady as he addressed the others. "Aaron's laid up, and these lands won't tend themselves. I think we can each take a day to fill in. We can all spare a ranch hand now and then to make up for all the ones injured."
"Right," Tim chimed in, tipping his hat back with a thumb. "I'm in for Thursdays."
One by one, the men declared their chosen days, pledging their time and effort to keep the ranch running. It was decided with the quiet strength that came from years of facing trials together. Deborah listened, her heart swelling with gratitude at their kindness.
"Deborah, you just focus on Aaron," said Amos, turning to her with a reassuring smile. "We'll handle the rest."
"Thank you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but each man heard the depth of her thanks.
With a plan in place, the group dispersed, leaving Deborah alone on the porch. The last traces of daylight vanished, and the night air carried a hint of relief from the heat of the day.
Inside, the house was filled with the comforting aroma of chicken broth simmering on the stove. Charlotte moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, wooden spoon in hand. She glanced over her shoulder as Deborah entered, offering a tired but warm smile.
"Broth’s almost ready," Charlotte said, stirring the pot gently. "It'll help him if fever sets in."
"Let me," Deborah offered, taking the spoon. Charlotte nodded and stepped aside, watching as Deborah's gentle hands took over the task. The rhythmic motion was soothing, almost meditative, and for a moment, Deborah allowed herself to get lost in it.
They carried a steaming bowl to Aaron's bedside together. He lay there, a giant felled by injury, his breaths coming in uneven rasps. Despite his delirium, when Deborah touched his hand, he seemed to calm, the lines of pain softening around his eyes.
"Here, love," she whispered, bringing a spoonful of broth to his lips. "This will make you strong again."
Aaron managed a weak nod, sipping the liquid with a faint sigh of contentment. Deborah's gaze lingered on his face, seeing beyond the fever to the kind-hearted man who she loved with everything inside her.
The room settled into a quiet rhythm: the tick of the clock, the whisper of the wind outside, the soft clinking of the spoon. Within the walls of the ranch house, there was warmth, there was care, and most importantly, there was hope.
