He straightened and pressed a hand against her forehead. After a second, a grin split his lips, and his eyes turned glossy. “Mornin’ to you too, sunshine.”

“Someone’s gotta tell you like it is.”

“Yep.” He wiped at his eyes. “Reckon I gotta have you around for a while longer getting into my business.”

A while longer? Had she been close to dying? She glanced at the room as if that could somehow give her the clues she needed to figure out what had happened while she’d been sick. The washbasin sat on the bedside table, along with an assortment of medicines and ointments. Rags and towels littered the floor next to drinking glasses and a pitcher.

She pushed up to her elbows, but at the sting in her wound, she lowered herself back down. “How long have I been in bed?”

“Near to a week today.”

“A week?” This time she sat up, heedless of her wound. For several seconds the room spun, but just as quickly it came into focus.

Brody’s gentle touch on her arm steadied her. “Go slow, darlin’. You’ve been mighty sick.”

“How sick?”

Brody opened his mouth to respond but then closed it and swallowed hard while glancing out the window.

“That bad?”

He nodded.

She vaguely remembered having a fever. Had her wound become infected? She lifted a hand to her forehead. Her skin was clammy but cool. She arched her shoulder, and though the wound still pained her, the burning was gone.

She reached for his hand and grasped it tight. “Thank you, Brody. It couldn’t have been easy for you to sit here by my side.”

He met her gaze. She expected to see the hauntedness back in the depths of his eyes. But though wide with concern, peace radiated within them.

For as emotionally wounded as Brody had been when he’d first arrived in Colorado, he’d come a long way.

“I admit I did a whole lot of worrying.” He squeezed her hand. “But also did a whole lot of praying.”

“And a whole lot of nursing me back from the dead.”

“That too.”

She wanted to ask about Jericho, if he’d come, if he’d taken a turn sitting by her bed. But he’d probably been busy hauling down the men from the cave. Maybe even taking them to Denver to a secure prison.

From somewhere else in the house came the rattle of pots and pans, along with the babbling of a baby, probably Hartley. He was mighty cute but was also a tornado on two legs.

Brody cast a glance toward the closed door and then stood and stretched. “Think you can eat something?”

“Yep. Didn’t think you’d ever ask.” Ivy’s stomach rumbled with hunger pangs. After a week of going without any vittles, she was ready to try keeping something down.