Chapter FifteenSimms chuckled to himself, noting his hand did not shake as he brought the spoon to his mouth. Hovering close by, a look of quiet satisfaction crossed White Dove's face. “You will soon be able to go outside again,” she said.
He grunted, slurping up the steaming broth. He licked his lips. “This is good.”
Another smile and she left the room. He listened to her moving about beyond the door and wondered why she nursed him the way she did. For two nights, she sat next to his bed, wiping his brow, holding his hand, sometimes bathing him with a cold cloth, other times wrapping the blankets close about him as he drifted in and out of his fever. She rarely spoke, sometimes hummed an unknown tune, an old Indian one perhaps. Thoughts of who she was, where she came from, what tribe sh
