She didn’t waste time with nothing words. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“You are welcome.” He finally looked up, staring at her as if he saw no one else in the room. “As I remember, you insisted on going.”
“You could have left anytime after the rain started. Why did you wait?”
He lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t have left without you. If you hadn’t wanted to go with me, I would have remained and fought.”
Annalane stared, knowing he meant every word.
Her brother tugged at her arm, insisting she sit between the captain and a tired-looking man with thinning hair named Lieutenant Dodson.
As Devin tucked in her chair, he said, “I asked one of the men to move your things out of my room and into the new infirmary. You can stay there. It wouldn’t be proper for you to stay in the officers’ quarters. I’m an officer so I belong there, and even though you’re my sister, you are still only a nurse.”
When she raised an eyebrow, he added, as if she’d asked, “The three-room infirmary is finished, at least on the outside. One wide front room that will serve as an office and examining room, one smaller storage room, and a large room to be set up as a small sick ward. Once we get everything out of crates, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of room for a bed in the storage room.”
“Nothing is set up?” She knew her brother had been at the camp over a month—surely he’d done something. It occurred to her that he might not know how. Surely any graduate from a medical school would know how to set up at least an office and examining room.
“I’ve been busy,” he answered. “It’s not my top priority right now. I’m not just the camp doctor, I’m also an officer.”
She nodded, telling herself he was lazy, just waiting for her to do the work. He’d been that way as a child, and no uniform had changed his habits. Pushing aside a nagging worry that he might not have spent all his time away in medical school, she resigned herself to sleeping among crates tonight.
She glanced around at the proper table service and wished McCord were not a table away. He was the only one she felt safe with. He was the only one she wanted to talk to. She smiled. In truth neither of them probably had enough skills to keep a conversation going throughout an entire meal.
It made little sense—the man had barely talked to her—but in a deep, primal way she needed to be near McCord.
The captain was formal and polite, but not interested in talking to a woman. Her brother never spoke to her, except to tell her to answer the questions. Lieutenant Dodson, on her left, was a few years older than she was, thin and pale among the other men tanned by the sun. He told her he was the paymaster. The man reminded her of a hawk, and had the habit of blurting out questions in random order. Her answers quickly shortened to simply yes or no, since she had the strong suspicion he wasn’t listening but trying to think of what to ask next.
By the time the meal was served, she’d formed a shell around herself. The men talked around her as if she were invisible. Her brother related his trip to the stagecoach station, including how the bodies looked on the floor and how many times each had been shot.
When one of the young officers suggested that such talk might not be proper in front of a lady, Dr. Woodward announced that his sister loved blood and gore. She’d been at half the battles during the Civil War and came home to work in a hospital for dying veterans when the war was over, as if she hadn’t had enough after over four years.
When dessert was brought in, Annalane excused herself, saying she knew the men would want to enjoy their cigars with coffee and she was still very tired. They all stood and bid her good night, but she had the feeling that only Ranger McCord’s gaze followed her out.
Sergeant Cunningham waited on the steps to see her to the infirmary. “The boys have been scrambling while you were at dinner, ma’am, trying to clean up at least one of the rooms for you. I’m not sure where your brother thought you’d be sleeping when he ordered your things sent to a half-finished building with boxes everywhere.”