Into the Sunshine: Of Love and Loss Series Book Two

10

Upon arriving at the Cheyenne station in the late afternoon, they collected their luggage and hurried to the southbound platform with only ten minutes to spare before the train departed. Iris cast a worried look at Everett, noticing his limp was more pronounced than usual.

He caught her staring and motioned for her to sit before shuffling in behind her. Then he set the bassinet down on the empty, backward-facing row.

"Sitting for long periods aggravates your leg?" She quietly asked, leaning forward to ensure the twins were still sleeping after the hectic race to catch the train.

Everett groaned as he gingerly lowered himself into his seat, his face flushed and contorted in pain. He stretched out his leg and then began massaging his thigh.

"Walking, sitting—hell, even breathing sometimes seems to irritate it," Everett said with a grimace, his voice strained. He paused, clenching his jaw so tight a muscle twitched.

"Is there anything at all I can do?" Iris asked, unable to stop her voice trembling with worry.

He shook his head, and several tears slipped down his cheeks.

Iris watched him, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her heart pounding. She despised feeling so powerless in the face of his quiet suffering. If only Marybeth were here. Her neighbor back in American Falls would have a whole bag of remedies and tricks. Three years ago, she'd used some on Mason after a rooftop leg injury left him bedridden for a week.

Several were more outlandish than consulting chicken bones for the weather and had failed. But one in particular had worked with miraculous results. Iris blinked and swallowed hard, her voice barely audible over the train's rumble as she leaned close and asked, "Will you let me try something?"

Everett cracked an eye open. "Are you going to shoot me?" He hoarsely whispered, several more tears rolling down his cheeks. "A bullet or quadruple dose of morphine would be most welcome right now."

She wiped the tears from his face and tried to smile at his attempt at levity. Pain blossomed in her bosom at his words and the agony in his eyes. "I regret to inform you I tucked both away in my other luggage set."

"Did you pack a cast iron skillet?" He groaned.

"No," she said, cupping his cheek with her trembling hand, "but if my plan fails, I'll go to the dining car and steal one—"

"You'll commit a crime for me?"

"And bonk you over the head with it," she continued with a nod.

"Hard enough to knock me out the rest of the trip?"

"No guarantees," she chuckled, "but I'll give it my best effort."

"Go on then," he rasped, a vein bulging on the side of his right temple, his eyes begging for relief, "do your worst."

She carefully stepped over Everett's outstretched leg and positioned herself between his feet. Scooting the bassinet to the furthest edge, she created more room and sat on the edge.

Facing Everett, she hesitated, her arms extended. The last time she'd been so nervous at the thought of touching a man she was so desperately attracted to had been a decade before she and Mason were married; she was sure of it. Her pulse leapt, and her hands trembled. Steeling herself against the unsettling, heady emotions flooding her veins, Iris settled her thumbs off-center above his right knee and wrapped her fingers around Everett's thigh for support.

"I promise this isn't an attempt to get familiar with you," Iris muttered, concentrating, hoping she'd remembered the correct placement.

He flinched at the initial contact and opened his eyes a bare slit to watch her but remained silent. Iris gathered her nerves and pressed deep into the knot of rigid muscle several finger-widths from his kneecap.