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"No, it's no one's fault. Let's not jump to conclusions. Let's just get him well." Charlie told her.
"I must get some things from outside to doctor him with." She told him.
Charlie knew she was near tears, but he didn't say another word. "Fine, I'll clean him up a bit."
Charlie peeled the shirt off, opening a couple of wounds as he did so. Clay moaned. Charlie got a bowl of water and a rag and cleaned the wounds as best he could, shaking his head. He was unaware of the tears on his own cheeks too. He knew Willa was crying too as she headed out the door in such a hurry. Elan lay asleep in Charlie's bed.
"Sorry son, I know this hurts." Charlie shook his head.
Once he cleaned him up, Clay lay on his stomach on his bed.
Willa came back in with some mud and herbs. She prepared it as a poultice and spread it over his wounds gently, as Clay moaned.
"Will that heal him?" Charlie asked her.
"Yes, in a few days but one of the cuts is deep, I will have to sew him up." She said as though in complete control. Her tears were gone and replaced with iron control now.
Charlie watched her doctor Clay, saw the faces she made when he moaned.
He got the needle and thread for her and she patiently sewed the deep wound that had Clay jerking nearly off the bed a time or two.
Finished she stared at him, "He will heal now, but it might take a while. We must keep him still, from breaking open the scars. The poultice will take the infection away from him, but he cannot move around for a few days."
Charlie nodded, "Thanks, you did a good job."
She glanced at Charlie, "You don't look too good yourself. Why don't you lie down now, with Elan?"
Charlie nodded; it wasn't the time to protest her bossiness. She was right, this had taken the starch out of him.
***
Willa sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee moments later, she propped her feet on one of the other chairs. She was tired, but so worried about what she'd brought to this household. She knew she should leave now. It would not work here, even as much as she wanted it to.
The white side of her had wanted it to work. The Indian side had warned her it wouldn't.
She glanced at Clay as his bed was close to the bedroom door. He hadn't moved.
Her eyes strayed over Clay with appreciation. She hated to think of leaving, but she would not bring this on them again. Once her and Elan had gone, everything would straighten out. Had it been Charlie, he'd have probably been dead. But Clay was young and would heal, still she knew she had caused this. And what if next time it was Charlie?
A silent tear ran down her cheek, as her eyes drifted back to Clay. With his shirt off, she saw his magnificent chest and back. He was well built with good shoulders and a strong back tapering to a lean waist, and long legs. She thought him beautiful. His magnificent red hair was long and shiny. She had run her hands through his hair to pull it away from the wounds, her fingers threading it. It felt like silk. He was a very clean man, a beautiful man, her heart sighed.
She knew her feelings had grown strong for him and it hurt to think of leaving him and Charlie. She loved them both, but she could never voice that love. Things like this would continue to happen, maybe even worse if she stayed.
No, the sooner she left the better for them both.
But here, in the kitchen, alone, she let the tears fall as her heart
was breaking. How had she let herself become so close to them? She knew from the start it would never work. It was the white side of her that cried.
She glanced at Charlie curled up with Elan, who seemed so content to be close with him. Even Elan would miss them.
She should leave now, but Charlie was sick with a consumption and Clay needed to heal. She couldn't leave either one of them now. When they needed her so. When they were better, she would go.
She sipped her coffee and silently prayed to God that Clay and Charlie would both heal. She cared for them both, and in different ways. But she knew she must put those feelings aside and do what was right for the both of them.
How could she put love aside though? Because she knew now, that love was the only word to describe what was between her and Clay. She knew he felt something for her too, it was in his eyes. But it was an unspoken thing between them and safer that way. When he'd touched her hand that day it was like a kiss, it went straight to her heart.
What would a kiss from him be like? She'd probably never know, but her heart thudded in her chest at the thought. Sometimes just the way he looked at her was like a kiss, she'd felt those looks, treasured them. There was an unspoken love between them, like a small, thin, thread, but it was there, she knew it, and she kept that thought close to her heart, protecting it. She didn't think she was imagining it as his looks were too intense at times.
