14

A Healing Touch

Thick smoke clogged the interior of the cabin, making Rum's eyes water uncontrollably. He could also feel the heat emanating from the burning roof and he feared it would collapse before he could even get inside to see where his wife was. Fear surged through him in a suffocating wave, as deadly as any fire. He clutched his staff and the runes upon it began to glow as the spirit of the shaman within it awakened once again to advise him.

If you wish to save your wife, apprentice, then use what Gitchi Manitou has given you. The Gift must be called forth, and twice now you have summoned it in your hour of need. Do so again, my student.

I . . .I don't know . . .if I can . . .

If you cannot, than you shall lose all you hold dear! She barked. This is no time for hesitation and dithering, spinner! You must act! Now! And know this—magic does not live in the unwilling heart.

With the shaman's rebuke ringing in his ears, Rumple finally realized something. He had a choice—now as before. Only the choice this time would not necessarily lead him into darkness. It was also the only choice he could make if he wanted to save Belle from a fiery death.

Willow Heart claimed he had the Gift of magic—now he needed to use it and save his wife.

Nothing mattered more to him at that precise moment.

He shut his eyes and concentrated, willing the choking smoke to be blown away, clearing the air. Then he used the magic he felt running through the earth to summon Belle to him, transporting her from there to his arms. As he did so, he prayed softly to the Creator of All to help him and give him strength.

Once more he felt that odd connection between himself and the earth, surging up through the soles of his feet and sweeping through him. It was warmth and light and it coiled within him, waiting to be unleashed. He focused, using his emotional tie to Belle and his need to save her to bring her to him, quickly and without harming her further.

The Power responded, flickering through him in a slow rush, like the sap rising in the trees, then suddenly exploding from him.

Belle, who was trapped beneath the table, which had part of a roof slat fall on it, collapsing it, just as she was moving around it towards the back door, felt the magic curl about her, surrounding her with a gentle warmth and then bearing her away in a twinkling of golden earth energy.

Just as another portion of the roof beam fell and crashed into the table, which surrendered with a crack and smashed into the oak floor right where Belle had been moments before.

Belle reappeared right where Rum had intended, in his arms.

Holding the slender petite woman close, Rumple took three steps backwards and away from the cabin, coughing harshly, the runes atop his staff blazing with a light fit to rival that of the flames dancing along the rooftree.

Suddenly a cloak of air sprang up, as Regina bent her will upon the flames and smothered them with her Power. She did the same to the burning barn, whose door flapped back and forth since Bossy had managed to pull out her ring and burst through the door in a panicked exodus.

Now the cow and the mule stood bawling in terror in the snowy filed beyond. Bae glanced up to see his papa holding his mother in her arms, and breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief and then turned back to applying pressure to the bullet wound in Horse's shoulder. Luckily the bullet had missed the vital heart and lungs, but the blood loss alone would kill the young brave if they couldn't halt the bleeding. "Regina!" he panted. "The bleeding won't stop!"

Beneath his hands, he could feel the Mesquakie youth's life draining away, as with every beat of his heart more blood pumped out from between Bae's fingers.

Regina felt like sand had coated her limbs after putting out the fires raging in the cabin and the barn. She wanted to curl up and sleep for a month, she was so weary. She could almost hear Willow's voice chiding her. Magic's price must be paid, granddaughter, but if you pay it now, your old friend may walk the starry path to the sky realm. His life hangs by a thread.

Gritting her teeth with effort, she dragged her eyes open, and then focused upon Horse. "Baelfire, move! I need to halt the bleeding."

Bae glanced up at her. "How?" His eyes were dark as a moonless night in his tanned face. He reluctantly moved aside, his hands sticky with blood.

Had she access to her herbs, Regina might have used them to try and halt the bleeding, but she knew the herbs would take too long to work. There was only one way she knew of to stop the heart's blood from spilling out of her friend. "This way," she muttered, and set her hands upon the awful wound, heating them with the fire of her elemental calling, and cauterizing it.

Horse was too far gone to feel what she did, but his body jerked spasmodically under her touch.

But the bleeding halted.

Relieved, she turned him over, ripped his shirt and did the exit wound also, sensing on some deep level that the bullet was not in the boy's body, it had passed through.

Then she let the fire die and slumped wearily over her friend's form, muttering in Algonquin, "I am so tired, grandmother. So tired."

"Regina?" Bae called, and gently pulled her into his embrace. She lolled against him, utterly spent, her long lashes fluttering closed a moment later. Uncertain what to do next, Bae looked over at his papa. The fires no longer raged, but there was damage to both structures, and the night was chill.

"Papa? Is Mama all right?"

Rumple stared down at his wife, she was awake, but her face covered in soot, and smoke clung to her like a second skin, her hair straggling down her back and across part of her face. "Belle? Are you hurt, dearie?"

She coughed before she managed to say, in a wheezing whispery exhalation, "My . . .my hands . . .Rum . . .I think they're burned . . .I was carrying a cup of tea when . . .part of the roof fell . . .I spilled it all over my hands . . ."

"You're certain 'twas that and not from the fire?" he asked softly.

"I . . .believe so . . .but cannot be entirely certain . . ." she hissed.

"I'll have a look, sweetheart, as soon as I can," he promised. "Bae, are you or Regina hurt?"

"No, Papa. We're fine . . . well, I am, but Regina's asleep, I think her magic wore her out. And there's an Indian boy here, he's been shot and he's hurt bad."

"Damn!" Rumple swore. "The fire's out, I think, but we'll need to get everyone inside . . . and see to the animals also before some cougar or wolf gets at 'em." He glanced about, and saw a small stump off to one side of the picket fence, it was where they chopped wood for the stove. "Belle, I need to put you down and check if it's safe t'go back into the cabin." He limped grimly over to the stump and set her down on it. "I'll be back in a bit. Just stay there."

"Be careful, Rum. Even if the fire's out, it could have caused damage to the roof beams," Belle warned.

Rumple nodded and threw open the door, letting the night wind rush into the cabin, clearing out most of the smoke. He felt a little drained, but he knew he couldn't rest just yet. If they didn't get into some kind of shelter, they would freeze in the chilly Maine night.

The cabin stank of smoke, and charred wood from where the fire had eaten away at the roof. Soot blackened the kitchen window, he could see where the table had collapsed and the partial roof beam that had fallen on top of the table. Oddly enough, despite the destruction, he spotted the blue willow chipped cup beneath a chair, unharmed. He knelt and picked it up, marveling that it had remained unscathed. He set it on the counter.

He moved cautiously through the rest of the house, after lighting an oil lamp to see by. The deepening gloom made it difficult to assess much of the damage, but he thought the living room and fireplace area remained largely unscathed, as did the bedrooms. The kitchen and pantry off of it seemed to have sustained most of the damage.

Afraid more of the ceiling would collapse, Rumple used more of his earth magic to shore up the ceiling, making the roof beams fast. He would need to have help to check the roof later and also the barn as well. He also needed to know who had done this, for he was not stupid enough to assume the blaze had been started by a knocked over lantern or anything except the deliberate act of an arsonist. He suspected whoever had shot the young Mesquakie had also set fire to his home.

His mouth tightened, and he reminded himself that the damage could have been much worse, and he needed to get his injured family members into shelter. He shrank the roof beam imprisoning the table to the size of kindling and threw it into the stove, turning it on. He mended the table, and then, swaying slightly on his feet from the sudden exhaustion, went outside to bring Belle inside and put her on the settle.

That done, he helped Bae move Horse inside, placing him on the other couch, then Bae carried Regina into her room and put her in her bed.

"I'll go and get Jenny and Bossy," Bae offered, and went to catch the mule and the spooked cow.

Rumple went out to the barn and found it too had sustained some damage, but half of the barn was useable, and he used the similar spell to make sure the roof did not collapse upon the animals. There was a hole where some of the roof had fallen in, but Rumple couldn't spare any more energy to mend it, after he had fixed the door, so Bae could lock the animals in for the night again.

His son gave the two scared animals some water and tied them, sensing they wouldn't eat, though he did leave a corn cob treat for each of them before he returned to the house.

Rumple returned just in time to find Belle trying to examine the injured Horse with her own burnt hands. "Belle, what in God's name are you doing?" he asked, rather sharply.

"I'm trying to see if I can help Horse," she replied. "He's lost a lot of blood and that bullet wound needs to be cleaned and dressed properly. He's going to need laudanum and some beef broth and—" she swayed suddenly and Rumple gently caught her by the elbow and steered her back to the other settle.

"Now, you just sit here and tell me what I need to do, dearie." He urged. "Bae, please put some wood on the fire and light the other lamp. And can you put some water on the stove with the chicken carcass from last night in it? It needs to boil and then simmer down."

"Sure, Papa. I'll get you some water too."

"Melt some snow on the stove," Rumple called.

Rumple moved then to remove the boy's bloodstained deerskin shirt and gather some cloths and bandages. He also brought a blanket from the chest and a small horsehair stuffed pillow. "Belle, what should I dress this wound with?" he asked. He knew general procedures to disinfect wounds made by swords and arrows but he feared that bullets might be more involved.

"Go to my apothecary chest in my still room, Rum," she told him. "If it's safe for you to do so."

"It is. I checked the rest of the house, it seems like the fire was set recently and so didn't have time to do much damage except to the kitchen where you were."

"Papa, this wasn't an accident," Bae began angrily, as he finished laying a fire and then bringing the water to boil on the stove.

"I know, but right now we have more important things to concern us with," Rum remonstrated. "I need that water, son." He turned back to Belle. "Now, Belle, what do I need?"

Belle recited him a list, telling him all her ingredients were labeled. "You'll need laudanum for pain, it's in the small round bottle on the left side. And yarrow astringent to disinfect the wound, that's in a vial that's squat and has a yellow string around the neck. There's an antiseptic healing paste I use made from ground marigold flowers, honey, and nettle, you'll want some of that as well. Oh and willow bark made into a tea for fever. It's also good for pain."

As he moved off to get the medicines, he said, "Bae, get your mama a bowl of cool water to soak her hands."

"Yes, Papa," Bae murmured assent and went to do that. Then he paused and said, "Why not snow?"

"Because snow will shock my skin too badly," Belle replied. "Cool water is best."

Rumple took Belle's apothecary key and unlocked the precious Chinese medical chest, finding each of the medicines neatly labeled where she said they should be. He put them all on a tray and carried them out to the living room.

"Now, wash your hands, Rum," instructed his wife. "Clean hands seem to be better than filthy ones when you treat wounds."

Rumple went and scrubbed his hands with snow and some soap. Once they were clean he returned to his patient and used the larger bowl of melted snow to wash the grime and blood from the comatose boy. Then under Belle's direction he diluted some of the yarrow wash into the water and bathed the wound thoroughly. Horse tossed his head, whimpering.

"Shh, lad. I know, it stings," soothed the spinner, because though he was unfamiliar with the plant, he knew that if this were a disinfectant wash, chances were it stung plenty, as most such things did. He then applied the soothing paste and carefully bound the wound with cross strips of bandages and put the right arm in a sling.

He wiped the boy's face free of sweat and dirt, and then used a clean piece of straw to give the snoozing boy some laudanum and then some willow bark also, stroking his throat to make sure the medicine was swallowed. As he set the boy's head back on the pillow, he heard Willow say, Now pray to the Creator for him to get well and recover. A shaman heals the spirit as well as the body.

Feeling awkward and almost like a pretender, he muttered a prayer, though he truly did hope the boy, who looked to be almost Bae's age, recovered.

He cleaned up the medicines then went over to see how Belle's hands were.

He winced when he saw how red they still were, with small blisters, even after being soaked in cool water. "Those look pretty nasty, Belle."

She groaned. "I know. I don't think I'll be able to use my hands for a few days."

"Aye, that's how it looks t'me too," her husband agreed. Then he recalled an old remedy he had learned from an old campaign soldier. "Belle, do we have any vinegar? Vinegar is good for burns, soothes and prevents them from going bad. An old army mate of mine told me about it."

"Yes, in the pantry next to the salad oil," she said.

Rumple got a small bowl and poured enough vinegar in it to soak her hands. "Here. Put your hands in and see how it feels." He hoped it worked as well as his comrade swore it did and wouldn't cause her more pain.

Belle did so, and was astonished at the relief it granted her. "Oh!"

"I'm sorry, does it hurt?"

"No . . . it feels good," she asserted. "I can use some of that salve I told you to use on Horse too. Marigold and honey soothe burns too."

"And how about something to soothe your throat and lungs from breathing in all that smoke?"

"I'll need you to brew me a tisane of certain herbs," Belle recited. "It's too bad Regina isn't awake, she knows the proportions."

"Tell me, I'll remember them."

"Yeah, Papa remembers everything he hears," Bae told her.

Belle told him that she needed the infusion to contain mallow, purple sticky aster, mulberry, and osha. "That should help clear my lungs of smoke and you should drink some too. Also my nettle and rose petal tea is a good restorative."

Rumple gathered the correct amounts of each herb and made a pot of the infusion for them all to drink. He also made a pot of the restorative tea and drank a cup of that also, with some honey stirred in for taste. They saved some of each tea for Regina to drink when she woke up.

After checking once more on Horse, who seemed to be sleeping deeply, Rumple asked if Belle would like to lie down in their room.

"I think that would be best," she nodded.

He assisted her with undressing and putting on a clean nightgown since her hands were bandaged and awkward. Then he undressed himself and crawled into bed beside her.

He put an arm gently around her shoulder, her long hair, slightly scented with smoke falling over his arm. "How are you feeling, Belle?"

"Tired. But grateful to still be here," she whispered. "Rum . . . how did you get to me? I felt . . .did you use magic to do so? I was trapped and the kitchen was filled with smoke and I was sure I was going to burn up . . ."

She began to tremble slightly. He kissed her temple. "There now, my bonnie lass," he crooned. "You'll never burn as long as I'm here, and yes, I did use what Willow calls earth magic to bring you to me. I dinna know quite what I did, except wish for you to be in my arms and it happened."

She let a soft sigh escape her. "You have a strong gift, Rum. Like Regina, I think you have been Called. I'm a medicine woman, and know small magics, magics to calm and to heal quicker. But nothing like that."

"I still don't know why Willow insists I am her . . .student," he said, turning onto his side to face her. "It makes me feel . . ."

"Uncomfortable?" she guessed.

"In a way, aye," he answered, but it wasn't the idea of magic that made him uncomfortable, but the fact that the last time he had used magic, he had been cursed and he worried that he would feel unable to stop using the power. He glanced away at the staff resting quietly against the wall. How could he admit to his wife why he was so uneasy at the thought of becoming Willow's apprentice? He hadn't even told the ghostly shaman his true past.

"Don't be," Belle said, her arm caressing her husband's shoulder. "The shaman's way is not for everyone, but all the shamans I have known are pledged to use their powers only to heal and protect their people. Oh, there are some who are dark, but Willow was not of that ilk, and she would never steer you wrong, beloved."

"It's just . . . ah . . .never mind about me," he demurred. "You're the one I'm worried about. Whether your hands will heal right and also that poor youngster in there. Will he make it, do you think?"

Belle was silent for a moment. "I can only pray he does. From what I saw of the wound, if it doesn't fester and he remains mostly free of fever and eats enough to replenish the blood lost, he should be all right. He's young and strong. But it's really in God's hands now, Rum."

"I've seen men get sick and die from cutting themselves on a nail or penknife," he fretted.

"As have I. Though I think . . . it has more to do with how they tended to the wound afterwards than anything else." Belle mused. "We can only do the best we can, Rum." She pursed her mouth. "If I knew who shot him . . .I would . . .I would string them up!" Her eyes flashed.

He lofted an eyebrow. "Not that I blame you, but . . .that's not very Christian, dearie."

She huffed. "I know, I should not answer violence with violence, yet I cannot help thinking that if not for those unscrupulous men, Horse wouldn't be lying near death now. Why did they shoot him?"

He propped himself up on his elbow. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it was because he saw what they were doing. Setting fire to our house and barn. So they shot him to keep him quiet."

"Do you know who might have done this, Rum? Who would want to kill us?"

"I fear this all goes back to the gold, Belle. I know that Tolle was most likely behind that ambush. And if his hired thugs are still out there, they could have done this." Her husband coughed.

Belle looked concerned. "I wonder if they'll be back. I wish . . ." She winced as her hands throbbed. "As my mother said, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. I suppose we must be alert and ready for anything."

"Yes. Though I would hope the ones who did this are far away from here by now." Rumple said. He knew most of their ilk would hardly stick around after doing such a despicable thing. They would flee before they could be identified and leave their dark deeds behind. He hoped though that if there was any justice in this world, they would get their true rewards.

"Let's get some sleep, Belle. We're going to need it," he yawned. Then he drew her to him and kissed her tenderly. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Night, Rum. Love you," she muttered sleepily, and nestled close to him.

Soon they were both asleep, exhaustion overtaking them.

Bae left the pot of chicken broth simmering on the stove before falling asleep as well on the couch.

Page~*~*~*~Break

The next morning dawned chill but sunny. Regina woke feeling somewhat refreshed and helped Bae with the morning chores as usual. The children were both concerned over their parents and also their Indian guest. Horse seemed unusually restless and tossed and turned on the couch. Regina feared he developed a fever, and yet he would not wake when she gently shook his shoulder.

Bae brought her a bowl of broth incase he did wake, and gave her a bowl of cool water and a cloth so she could bathe the feverish boy's forehead and chest. Then he went to check on his parents.

He found Rumple still asleep, apparently whatever he had done to save Belle had worn him out, and Belle was awake, her hands throbbing. "Good morning, Bae."

"Morning, Mama. How are you feeling?"

"I'm a bit better, Bae. Would you mind bringing me some tea and perhaps some eggs or oatmeal?" She studied her hands. They would need a new dressing and she coughed because despite the tea she had drank, her lungs still felt congested.

"Yes. I'll be right back."

"How is Horse?"

"Uh . . .he's not doing too great. Regina thinks he has a fever, but he's not awake enough to take any medicine."

Belle sighed. "Well, when he does awake, tell Regina to give him a dose of willowbark."

"I will. Is that his name?"

"Running Horse, yes. He was Regina's tribesmate, and her childhood friend," Belle replied. "But sometimes to the whites he was known as Daniel."

Bae nodded and then left the room.

After he had informed Regina of Belle's directives, he set about making some breakfast. For once he was grateful he had learned how to cook from both his papa and from Regina. He made scrambled eggs, oatmeal, and some ham. He also made some tea.

When he brought the tray into the bedroom, he found Rumple had woken also, and both seemed glad to see him. "Papa, are you going to town today?"

"No. I think I'd better stay close to the house just in case. I'm also more tired than I thought I'd be. When the post rider comes through today, I'll give him this letter for Jack so they know what's going on." He scribbled out a quick note for his partner and put it in an envelope. He handed it to his son, then said, "Once we're done with breakfast, I'll see to your hands again, Belle."

"Thank you, Rum."

"It's no trouble," her husband said, and ate his eggs.

Rumple had Belle soak her hands again in the vinegar before he applied the salve. Despite his deft touch, Belle found her hands were very sensitive, and tears of pain stood in her eyes as he applied the medicine to her palms and inbetween her fingers.

"Sorry, dearie. I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," he apologized.

"It's . . .all right . . .I know . . ." she said between clenched teeth. Then she began reciting the Latin names of some of the herbs she had Rumple collect to make the decongestion tea. "Alethea malva, dieteria bigelovii, mons alba, lingusticum . . ."

Rumple paused in his ministrations. He felt terrible having to cause her pain. "You calling down some kind of curse on my head in Algonquin?" he teased, hoping to take her mind off the pain.

She felt her mouth quirk upwards in an almost grin. "Of course not, Rum! As if I'd ever curse you—even if I knew how! I'm . . .reciting . . . Latin names . . . .of herbs . . .that's all. The recollection of my school days . . .helps take my mind off my hands."

"Almost done." He finished bandaging them, and then kissed her lightly. "There! A kiss to make it better, Mrs. Gold."

She laughed hoarsely. "That does make me feel better, Rum." A second later she was coughing.

He felt her forehead. "You seem to have a wee fever, sweetheart. I think you need some of that willowbark and some more of that tea I gave you yesterday. Then you need to rest."

Belle lay back against the pillows. "Yes, dearie."

"Are you making fun o' me?" he mock-scolded.

"Would I do that?" she demanded impishly.

"If you could get away with it, and you know it," he returned, his eyes sparkling. "Now you rest and I'll be back quicker than blinking."

All that day, Rumple went from his bedroom to the living room, and took care of both sick patients. Belle slept for much of the morning, as the willowbark made her sleepy and when she woke found her husband gently bathing her with cool water and then drying her and giving her a clean nightgown.

She smiled wanly. "How's Horse?"

"There's not much change. I keep giving him willowbark when he's awake and the laudanum too. His fever goes down and then returns." Rumple said gravely.

"His wound, have you looked at it?" Belle queried worriedly.

"Yes. I don't see any infection, yet his fever keeps returning."

"Did you dress it again?"

"Aye, doctor Gold."

"His body may be in shock still. All you can do is keep giving him liquids and hope it breaks for good," Belle sighed. "And pray."

Bae brought her broth and bread for lunch, and Regina came to see her also, her dark eyes fearful. "Mama, do you think Horse might die?" she asked softly.

Belle put her hand on her daughter's. "I don't know, Gina. But we're doing all we can."

"I wish I could heal him, but Papa says I'm not to use magic so soon after yesterday," the girl pouted. "He says then I might hurt myself, and he's have three sick people to tend."

"I'd listen to him, dear. He knows what he's about," Belle cautioned.

"But . . .I can't just let Horse die!" she protested.

"Regina, that's not up to us. It's God's will," her mother reminded her. "You know the first rule that Willow taught me as a medicine woman. First, heal what can be healed, but let the dying spirit find peace."

The girl's hand clenched upon the covers. "Horse isn't going to die!" she snapped. Then she abruptly ran from the room.

She paused in the hall to dab at her eyes, angry at herself for crying and angry as well that she could do nothing to save the boy who had most likely saved her and her family. She looked up to find Bae staring at her.

"Hey. What's wrong? Is it Mama?"

"No. It's nothing." She made as if to sweep past him.

"Nothing doesn't make you bawl your eyes out."

"I'm not crying, Baelfire!" Regina denied. "I just . . .had something in my eye."

"Yeah, tears," he remarked flippantly. An instant later he regretted his remark when Regina spun and stalked past him. "Gina! I didn't mean—"

But the girl was no longer listening to him. She entered the kitchen and began to stir the pot of stew so vigorously she nearly upset the pot. She dabbed at her eyes with the dishcloth and thought of the many times she had played with Horse when they were children.

They had played together, competed together, fought together, and gotten into mischief together. The only thing they hadn't done together was court, Regina thought sadly. Yet she regretted that only because she knew Horse had counted on marrying her. Yet she knew that would have been a mistake, for she didn't love him the way she should. She loved him like a brother.

And even now, you still do, her conscience reminded her. You would mourn a friend if Horse died, but not the love of your life. That, you mooncalf girl, you reserve for the one you share your house with.

She knew that she shouldn't have feelings for Baelfire. Not now. But she found she couldn't help it. She was not quite a woman yet, but she had been attracted to the boy since the first time she'd seen him try and blow that bird whistle. And she didn't know quite what to do. If only Bae weren't Mr. Gold's son and thus her stepbrother.

Frustrated and stressed, she buried her face in the dishcloth.

Rumple entered the kitchen intending to get another pot of tea to fortify himself and also something to eat, like leftover ham on a biscuit when he caught sight of his daughter. "Gina, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!" she said angrily. "Why would you think something's wrong?"

He tilted his head. "Maybe because people without something wrong don't usually look like they're going through hell and biting my head off for a simple question, hmm?"

His mild rebuke made her flush. "Fine! I'm worried about Horse but there's nothing I can do about it, since you won't let me heal him. Does that answer your question?"

He ignored her snippy tone for the time being. "I know you feel like I'm being unreasonable, dearie, by not letting you use your magic, but Gina, you haven't recovered from the last time you used it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I haven't regained my strength either," he said, a tad sternly. "And working magic when you're already weakened leads only to trouble. For you and for anyone around you."

"You won't even let me try!" she declared petulantly.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "That's right, I won't. Because I know better than you what magic's price will do to you. Magical drain is no joke, dearie. You could die, and that I won't have. Not on my watch."

"You don't care if Horse dies!" she flared. "Is it because he's Mesquakie? Os that why you don't care?"

"No, it's not. It doesn't matter to me if he's red, white, or spotted pink and purple," Rumple told her bluntly. "But you matter more to me, Regina Gold, and trading your life for his is not a choice I'm ever going to have to make. I'll do the best I can working with your mama's herbal remedies and pray that he'll pull through. And if I regain my strength, I may try and heal him if possible. But not you, my girl. I won't put a child of mine at risk even to save another."

"Will you promise me?" she pleaded.

"I can't, dearie. Because I don't know if that's a promise I can keep. I may not be strong enough to save him. All I can promise you is that I will try."

"When?" she begged.

"When and if I can," he replied. He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Gina, I don't like to see that boy suffer any more than you. But I have to put my family first. If I allow you to heal him and you try and fail what then? Should I also watch you die? Where's the sense in that?"

She looked like she wanted to burst into tears. Or hit him. Instead she said, "I hate it when you're right, Papa!" and stormed out of the kitchen, going into the backyard to feed the chickens and the other animals, needing to be by herself before she exploded and said something unforgivable to someone.

Rumple let her go, wisely knowing when to quit pushing.

He went and made himself a sandwich, and when he sat down found Bae across from him.

"She's prickly, isn't she, Papa?" his son sighed.

"That she is, son. But it's only because she's afraid. And she cares for Running Horse."

"She said that he wanted to court her but she wouldn't let him. Maybe she's changed her mind?" Bae asked, feeling oddly left out.

"No. It's just that she doesn't want him to die."

"You think he's gonna make it?"

Rumple spread his hands. "I don't know, dearie. All we can do is hope and pray."

Bae snitched a biscuit from the plate on the table and spread butter and jam on it. "While you pray, Papa, I'll eat. Then I'm gonna go and read to Mama from my fairy tale book."

"That's good, son," his father said, knowing after his lunch, he would commence bathing the feverish lad again, and giving him liquids through the straw and hope it would have an effect this time.

Regina returned after half-an-hour to find Rumple asleep in the rocking chair with his book over his face, and Horse still asleep, his dusky face still flushed with fever. She laid a hand upon his forehead, murmuring in Algonquin, "Running Horse, you are a great warrior. You have counted many coup on your enemies. Are you going to let a measly wasicu's weapon defeat you? Fight! And win!"

She closed her eyes and tried to will her strength into him.

But when she opened her eyes, Horse was still asleep, and though he seemed a trifle cooler, she wasn't sure if he had heard her or not.

"Get well, my friend," she murmured and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

Then she turned and wrung out the rag in the basin of cool water. When she turned back around, he was staring at her, his eyes still glassy with fever.

"Raven Heart?" he spoke in their native tongue.

"I am here, my brother," she whispered. "Do you see me?"

He smiled slightly. "I see you." He glanced around. "Where am I?"

"In my house."

"Then the wasicu didn't burn it down?"

"No. But not for lack of trying. Horse, did you see who they were? Could you recognize them?"

He bit his lip. "I . . .I think so . . ." He described the men as best he could.

"Could you eat something? I have some broth here."

He made a face. "That's not food for warriors."

"It's all your stomach can handle," she answered. "In case you don't realize it, you've been shot."

"Kind of hard for me to miss that," he joked feebly. "But I want deer meat."

"You'll get chicken soup and you'll eat it and like it," she informed him crisply. She took a spoon and the bowl of broth from the table.

"Yes, chieftess," he said, with a smirk.

"Don't make fun of me, Horse. Or else you'll be wearing it."

"If this is how you treat all your patients, dearie, no wonder they get well soon," Rumple said dryly from behind her.

Regina nearly spilled the bowl of broth all over Horse. "Papa!"

The tailor came and felt Horse's forehead. "You're still feverish, lad. But not as bad as before. I'm Rumford Gold, by the way. How do you feel?" Then he realized that the boy might not understand him and said, "Regina, can you ask him?"

"I understand the white man's tongue," Horse replied.

"Good. And how do you feel?"

"Like I've been shot," the boy answered wryly.

"I never would have guessed," Rumple smirked. "Can you eat some of that for me? You'll need to keep up your strength if you're going to fight off this fever."

The boy sighed. "When can I have real food?"

"When you show me you won't puke all over after eating this." Rumple told him.

Regina refused to allow him to feed himself, and Horse grudgingly let her do so, but after half a bowl he was astonished to discover he was growing sleepy.

Rumple dosed him with some more healing tea and helped him to the bathroom, then said he needed to sleep.

"I'm not tired," the boy protested grumpily.

"Of course you're not," the spinner agreed.

Abruptly the boy's eyes shut.

Regina looked at her father hopefully. "Will he be all right, do you think?"

"I believe he will. Thanks to your determination and healing touch."

"It wasn't just me. You cared for him more than I did." Regina protested.

"But he responded to you," Rumple pointed out.

Regina flushed and said nothing. She knew he was right, and she also feared she knew why Horse had responded to her. For one thing she was Mesquakie and his friend. For another . . . he loved her—or thought he did. And she had kissed his forehead.

It had been just a kiss—on her part. But what if he thought it was something more?

She glanced up at Rumple. "Forgive me for snapping at you, Papa," she said contritely.

"You're forgiven," he reassured her. "Now why don't you get some sleep, Gina?"

"I will. But first I need to send a message to Horse's people. Letting them know where he is and that he's being taken care of."

She would write it using the pictographs of the hunters, so that Horse's family would not worry for him. In it she also added the descriptions of the ones who had shot her friend and almost killed her and her family. Then she sent it off with one of her raven brothers.

If the ones who had hurt her family and friend were anywhere in this area, she knew that the Mesquakie would find them. And when they did . . .well, her people were not particularly warlike, but when stirred to vengeance for their own . . .those three would most likely regret ever doing harm to anyone again—for as long as they had voices left to scream with, she thought grimly.