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“Willow bark tea and fever few,” he explained as I suspiciously frowned at the cup in my palms. “Should take the edge off a bit.”
Hesitantly, I considered, then took a cautious sip. Bryant walked over to the counter again, returning with a tin plate of cold ham slices, white cheese and toasted brown bread topped with honey.
“Thank you,” I said.
Immediately I dug in. Not having eaten a thing since breakfast yesterday, I was ravenous and this tasted divine.
“Thankyou,” he returned, leaning against the stone fireplace with folded arms across his chest. “I wouldn’t have survived last night if you hadn’t gotten me back here in time to counteract the poison.”
I halted my chewing, my eyes raising to his. “Poison?”
“The bullet was laced with it,” he explained.
That explained the veiny streaks around the bullet hole then, as well as the need for his special herbal mixture that seemed to miraculously heal him.
What kind of sadistic monsters were those Arcan Hunters?
“I’m glad you survived then,” I said.
“Me, as well.”
“No doubt.” At the reminder of the man’s injuries, I added, “I should check your dressing.”
“No need,” he said.
“No arguments. I’m the doctor here,” I said.
“Are you now?”
“No. Ow,” I said, awkwardly standing and hobbling over to him. “Stand still and cooperate, or I’ll give you what-for.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ignoring Bryant’s twitching lips inches from mine, I pulled down the shoulder of his buckskin shirt, then gently pulled away the bloodstained compress still in place. The blue streaks were completely gone, and the jagged hole itself was closed over and pinked with new skin.
“Whoa, it’s practically healed.” My widening eyes fixed with his. “How..?”
“I told you. You’re a good healer,” he said quietly.
“No, I’m not. What was in that mixture you had me poke into you anyhow?”
“A few herbs I learned about from a Snoqualmie medicine woman. Coffee?” he offered, grabbing the pot hanging on the iron fireplace rod.
“What? Oh. Uh, sure. Please.”
“Sit back down and rest your foot,” he instructed, handing me another tin cup he filled, this time with his camper’s coffee.
It was extremely strong and bitter, but having only a few fractures hours of sleep the entire night, I greatly needed the caffeine jolt.
The coffee and medicinal tea dulled my migraine to a mild throb, and the ointment and ministrations eased my sprained ankle a great deal. Along with the lack of sleep from being on emergency watch all night, I slowly relaxed and drifted off.
* * *
I startled awake sometime later at the sound of echoing cracking. Quickly I sat up and looked around to find that the one-room cabin was empty.
“Bryant?” I called.
After another echoing crack outside, my muddled brain cleared enough to make out the sound of someone chopping wood.
