Fort Laramie by Courage Knight

fierce. He didn't offer any words of comfort as he plastered a bandage around the wound. Then he lifted Carrie as easily as a sack of potatoes and marched back to the camp. He plopped her down none too gently on a picnic table and glowered at her. "Don't move!" he barked. He ducked into his tent, returning moments later with the same zippered hoodie he had loaned to her just that morning. "Put this on," he said, shoving it at her.
    Carrie looked helplessly at her bloody hands, thinking she should clean up a bit before she put stains on the shirt.
    "Now, Carrie," Tom yelled.
    She shoved one hand into the sleeve, then the other. She fumbled with the zipper until Tom slapped her hands out of the way. He zippered it up all the way to her chin. For a brief moment, he gave her such a tender look, but then the fury returned. Carrie suspected then that his anger was a cover for his true emotions. He really cared about her, and she had scared him. She had scared herself, too. The tears she'd been struggling to hold off finally broke free and spilled down her face. She sniffed, looking away, but not fast enough.
    "Go ahead and cry," Tom said gruffly. "But we're not done, young lady. You heard me tell the group to stay out of the river until I'd asked around to see if it was safe. We aren't from around here. It's not like they could print on a brochure, 'don't swim in this river because the local thugs hold beer parties there' now is it?"
    "I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. She didn't know why she was crying, really. It hurt, but she'd been hurt worse. She felt hyper-sensitive, a little dizzy, and nauseated. Ah, the adrenaline rush. That's what it was. And now she was coming down from the fight-or-flight response. "Please don't yell at me," she said. "I know I screwed up. Would you just maybe hold me?"
    Tom pulled her into his arms and held her tight - too tight. She almost couldn't breathe. For a moment she didn't even care. His arms felt so nice around her, like she was safe from the world and nothing was going to hurt her ever again. She closed her eyes, snuggling into his embrace.
    He was silent as they sat in the Emergency Room waiting area. Carrie cried again when the doctor scrubbed her cut prior to stitching it up. Then he packed it with an entire roll of gauze and set her up with crutches. Finally, he filled out a prescription for pain pills and sent them on their way.
    Tom remained silent on the drive back to the campground. Carrie gave up trying to talk to him. There were only so many times she could apologize, and it wasn't like she'd planned to get hurt. They were called accidents because they were just that - accidents! She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, probably helped along by the prescription drugs she'd swallowed.
    She woke up when the van came to a stop. It was completely dark outside, dark like out at Grandpa's farm - no street lights, no yard lights, not even any stars tonight. She blinked, a moment of disorientation making her wonder if she'd lost her eyesight, but then shapes started to form, and she remembered where she was. In the van, next to Tom. She rubbed the last of sleep from her eyes and removed her seatbelt.
    "Thanks for taking me in," she said.
    "It's my duty," Tom said. His voice sounded strange. Sort of flat and cold. At least he didn't sound still pissed.
    "And you make it really hard for me," he continued. "How can I keep you safe if you refuse to listen to me?"
    "I said I was sorry."
    "This time. You're sorry this time, because you got hurt. But I don't believe for a second that you are really sorry for not listening to me in the first place. This just isn't going to work, Carrie. I'm sending you home in the morning."
    "No!"
    Tom chuckled sadly. "See what I mean? You still aren't ready to listen to me."
    "You can't send me home. What about the program? You need me-"
    "I need someone I can count on."
    "But you can count on me," Carrie said, tears swelling again. Damn, why was she