Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(42)

Herb looked off into the distance, his forehead furrowed.

Connell glanced at the knife and then slipped it away, wondering what had possessed him to unsheathe it in the first place. He wouldn’t have thrown it at the man. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt one of his workers, especially a youth who wasn’t strong enough to do much of anything but keep the iced roads free of horse or ox droppings.

Of course the youth hadn’t known he was listening to them, that his ear was attuned to every crude remark about Lily, and that he was choked with guilt.

The cookee smothered the fire with ashes and snow and then sat on a log and began to strap on his snowshoes before beginning his haul back to camp. All the while he avoided making eye contact with Connell.

The men had to know he wouldn’t have hurt the youth.

But the raw slice in his gut still oozed with anger. He only had to think of Lily’s pale face when they’d finally arrived back at the Northern Hotel, and his frustration over the situation turned into a glaring wound once again.

Stuart had been the one to carry her inside to Vera’s bed. And anytime Connell had tried to even look at Lily, Oren had scowled at him and forced him away.

Oren knew he hadn’t taken advantage of Lily, that he’d treated her with the respect she was due. He could see it in the man’s eyes. But it didn’t change what had happened.

And now Oren was only trying to protect Lily from any further damage. He could understand that. That’s all he wanted for her too.

Connell gave a long sigh that left a white wisp in the bitter air.

He’d tried to do the right thing by saving her, but somehow he’d ended up making a mess of everything.

Maybe he’d do them all a favor if he just minded his own business like he always had.



The feather pillow against Lily’s head was like a cloud straight from heaven. And the warmth of Vera’s quilts was like the heat of a glorious summer day.

If only the dear woman would stop insisting she take hog’s foot oil, a homemade remedy Vera had concocted from boiled hogs’ feet during butchering time. She claimed the oil had always cured her of any hint of cough or hoarse throat.

But the thick, slimy medicine had chunks of who-knew-what in it. And the dead-animal stench made Lily gag just as much as the taste did.

“Maybe I could have another dose of the pine-resin syrup instead,” Lily offered as Vera heated the bottle of hog’s foot oil over the lamp, warming it so it would melt and slide out onto the spoon.

“I’ll give you some of that too.” She swished the bottle and peered through the narrow opening.

“But I’m actually feeling much better.”

“Then all the more reason for another spoonful. That means it’s working.”

Lily stifled a sigh. After three days in bed with a fever and cough, she was past ready to be up and about. But Vera wouldn’t let her set a foot on the floor and had hovered over her tirelessly, attending to her every need almost as if she were a princess.

She’d never had anyone wait on her before. And no matter how much Vera had insisted she lay in her bed, she couldn’t keep the edge of discomfort from creeping in next to her, urging her to throw off the warm covers, get up, and stand on her own two feet like she’d always done.

Vera ambled over to the side of the bed. “Open up.”

Lily struggled to rise. Time to count her blessings and stop complaining. After all, she was safe and alive.

A knock on Vera’s bedroom door sent a quiver of anticipation through Lily. She clambered to sit higher, combing her unruly curls away from her face.

Maybe it was Connell, finally coming to check on her.

As much as she wanted to deny the truth, she couldn’t keep hope from rising inside her. She wanted to see him, had waited for him to visit, had lain on her bed straining to see into the kitchen, longing to get a glimpse of him in passing.

But in the past three days, she hadn’t seen him. Not once.

Surely he would come. It was only a matter of time. He’d likely been busy trying to catch up on the work he’d missed. And when he finished, he’d stop by. Wouldn’t he?

Her heart pattered faster. She longed to feel the warmth of his summer-green eyes upon her, as they’d been so many times since she’d met him.

“Can I come in?” a muffled voice said from the other side of the door.

“Only if you’ve washed your hands,” Vera called, pouring the hog’s foot oil onto the spoon.

The door opened a crack, but before Lily could see who it was, Vera lowered the medicine to her lips and forced it in.

Lily pinched her nose and tried to swallow the mucous-like mixture without it coming back up.

“And how’s Lily this evening?” a cheerful male voice asked.

The medicine sank—along with her spirits. It was only Stuart. Again.

Where was Connell?

When Vera backed away, Lily peered beyond Stuart to the empty doorway. Why wasn’t he coming? If she didn’t know better, she’d almost think he was avoiding her.

Stuart followed her glance to the door, and some of the brightness of his smile faded.

She stuffed down her disappointment, knowing she wasn’t being gracious to Stuart, who’d come faithfully every evening to see her. She pulled her attention back to him and forced a smile. “I need you to help me convince Vera I’m better and can get out of bed.”