lessons. She’d also fed the horses and checked that they weren’t going anywhere. She hoped she’d done everything right. She couldn’t rely on Ben to remain lucid enough to tell her whether she had or not.
Gathering the flasks, she made her way back into the tent, pausing at the entrance to check Ben over. His eyes were shut, and she considered leaving him to sleep, and then remembered he had to eat and take some painkillers first.
“Ben?” It took him a while to respond to her. “I’m making some soup. I can feed you, or you can feed yourself depending on how good you are with your left hand.”
She wished she could strip off her wet clothing and put on her jammies, but she’d have to go back outside to secure the campsite for the night, and it was still raining.
After adding water to the pack of soup and giving it a good stir, she approached Ben who appeared to be half-asleep again.
“If you eat some of this, I’ll give you the painkillers, and you can go to sleep for a while,” she said encouragingly.
“Promise?” He opened one eye.
She nodded. “I’ll have to wake you up a couple of times tonight, just to make sure you can wake up normally, but other than that, you can definitely sleep as much as you want.”
He frowned. “I don’t want you staying up all night worrying about me.”
“I’d be staying up all night anyway replaying everything that happened in my head like a movie,” Silver lied. “I’m way too wired to sleep.”
“I don’t—”
She stuck a spoonful of soup in his mouth and he stopped talking.
“I can do that myself, you know,” he murmured. “I’m not a baby.”
“I am well aware of what you are and what you are not, Ben Miller,” Silver said tartly. “And at the moment, I’m in charge, and you get to do what you’re told, okay?”
For the first time in what felt like forever, a hint of a smile broke through his exhaustion. “Yes, ma’am. You sound just like my auntie Rae.” He took more soup. “Don’t forget to have something yourself.”
“I won’t.” After he finished the soup, she handed him the packet of acetaminophen. “Dessert.”
“Just what I needed.” He cracked open the pack. “My head’s about to split open.”
She offered him some coffee to wash the drugs down and finally let him be. He lay back stiffly against the pillows, a frown on his face, his eyes closed, and his hands folded together on his lap.
It took all her remaining energy to go back outside, make sure the fire was out, and that everything was quiet. She removed Ben’s gun from his saddlebag and brought it and a box of ammunition into the tent with her. By the time she zipped up the door, he was fast asleep.
Silver stripped off her wet clothes, put on her thermal jammies and a clean pair of socks, and immediately felt better. She’d used some of the hot water to wash with and took more to make herself something to eat. Despite all the shocks of the day, or perhaps because of them, she was ravenous and ate two packets of what passed for sweet and sour chicken. She wished she’d rationed Mrs. Morgan’s brownies more carefully because she really needed some chocolate right now.
After a cup of strong, black coffee, she regained some energy and snuggled down in her sleeping bag beside Ben. If she kept the lamp on she figured she wouldn’t sleep too long because according to the first-aid manual she had to wake Ben at least twice during the night.
His skin was hot to the touch, which concerned her, but he’d only just taken the painkillers so hopefully that would resolve itself. If it didn’t, and he became seriously ill . . .
Silver opened her eyes again and checked the time on Ben’s watch. Dammit. She’d missed the window to contact BB on the radio. Would he be worried now? Would he send help? It was possible that no one would be able to get to them until the creek level subsided anyway. There were no roads out here suitable for emergency vehicles. She wasn’t even sure a helicopter would be able to fly in such poor conditions.
She sat up and hugged her knees. She had no skills beyond basic first aid, but she did know that if Ben’s ribs were severely damaged, any further movement might make them worse. The mere thought of sleeping disappeared in her