The Captain's Challenge (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 3)

by Elaine Manders

  Alex punched first one, then the other, but by that time, the wounded man on the ground had aimed a pistol. Maddeningly, because Alex stood between them, Gillian couldn’t get her sights on any of the assailants.

  Shots rent the air, and Purity screamed again, whether from fright or because she’d been hit, Gillian didn’t know. She shut her eyes against the gunfire, then opened them as silence fell, fearing the worse.

  Alex still stood, and the three assailants lay, either wounded or dead, in the road. He stumbled to the buggy and hefted himself into the driver’s seat.

  Fear lodged in her throat, cutting off her breath. The front of his coat and the white shirt underneath dripped in blood. His features contorted in pain.

  “Get…to…doctor.” His rasping words jolted her into action. He collapsed against her left side, and she wrapped her arm around him, plying all her strength to keep him in place. She gripped the reins with her right hand, and as soon as she released the brake, the horse sprang forward. If she knew where the whip was, she’d have used it.

  Beside her, Purity sobbed. She was bleeding too, though her injury was superficial, caused by splintered wood as a bullet struck the buggy’s bed.

  Oddly, a calm settled over Gillian as she negotiated the unknown roads. She had to keep her wits about her if she were to get Alex to a doctor in time. Dr. Callahan lived next door to Aunt Mandy. Since it was Sunday and church was over, he should be at home, unless he’d been called out on an emergency.

  She felt Alex’s blood seeping through her clothing, and out of the corner of her eye, noticed blood dripping onto the floor. Please, Merciful Lord, let the doctor be home.

  Aunt Mandy’s imposing house never looked so good when it came into view, but it seemed to take forever to reach it.

  Pulling the horse to a halt in the driveway, she yelled for the grooms to take Alex inside, then flew to the doctor’s residence.

  Dr. Callahan opened the door himself, and she burst into tears.

  ***

  Gillian paced the hall, literally wringing her hands. Dr. Callahan had been with Alex for over two hours. When he finally came out of the sickroom, his haggard look clenched her by the neck.

  “He’s alive, but that’s all,” the doctor said.

  “But he’ll be all right.” She searched his features for some reassurance.

  “It’s too soon to tell, child.” He put a hand on her shoulder, and glanced past her to Aunt Mandy and Purity. “The good thing is I managed to extract the bullet without causing any more damage. The bad thing is he’s lost a lot of blood, and the injury’s close to the heart. If he survives the next forty-eight hours, I’d say he’ll make it.”

  He didn’t have to tell Gillian how much blood Alex had lost. The sick, metallic smell clung to her even after she’d bathed and changed clothes.

  “What should we do, Doctor?” Aunt Mandy asked.

  “He needs to be watched every minute. If any change occurs, notify me immediately. Keep him cool. He’ll run a fever. Sponge him off, if you have to. Give him the medicine I’ve left every four hours. I’ll be back in the morning to check on him.”

  “I’ll get a couple of servants to keep watch.”

  “No.” Gillian wouldn’t leave him to servants. “I’ll sit with him.”

  “My dear, you’re dead tired and, in any event, can’t stay up all night.”

  Purity sniffed into her soaked handkerchief. “I’ll watch him. If it weren’t for me wanting to go through Hook’s Branch he’d never have gotten hurt.” Her watery eyes begged Gillian to agree.

  It would have taken a mule team to pull Gillian away from Alex’s bedside, and she welcomed Purity’s help.

  “Have a cot brought in. He’s my husband, and I vowed to keep him in sickness as well as health. Bring a cot for Purity too. She and I will take turns watching.”

  The doctor sent a questioning look at Aunt Mandy. Her mouth drew into a bow as if to protest, then she puffed a soft sigh. “Very well, dear.” She gestured with her hand. “I’ll see you out, Dr. Callahan.”

  Gillian and Purity entered the sickroom. Alex lay on white sheets with another sheet pulled up to his waist. Nothing but a bloodstained bandaged covered his chest and left shoulder. His complexion was almost as white as the sheets.

  The quietness of the room frightened her. He was so still, and his breathing so shallow, it was hard to detect any movement at all. “Alex.”

  No response. She wished she’d asked the doctor if he’d given Alex something to make him sleep. Or if he were unconscious.

  A sponge and bowl of water sat on a small table along with a vial of dark liquid Gillian assumed was the medicine. She dipped the sponge and squeezed it, then pressed her palm to his forehead. He wasn’t a bit warm. Cold, in fact. Her gaze dropped to his chest, but a beat couldn’t show through the thick bandage. Could it?

  She dropped the sponge into the water bowl and slid her fingers to his neck, checking his pulse. It beat strong, and some of her anxiety drained.

  This man had a strong heart, but a soft heart at the same time. Maybe too soft. He’d suspected Hook’s Branch was too dangerous to traverse, but he’d acquiesced to her request. Just because he wanted to please her. Because he loved her.

  With gentle strokes, she caressed his face, his arms, and as much of his torso as she could.

  Then she broke down, and great racking sobs shook her body.

  Purity was beside her in a moment. “Let me do it for now. Amanda was right. You’re exhausted. Purity pulled the chair closer and pressed on Gillian’s shoulders to force her to sit. At first Gillian resisted, then lowered herself onto the seat.

  Cupping her chin, Purity blotted her face. “Hold his hand while I pray.”

  Like one in a trance, Gillian did as she was told, rubbing the knuckles of his hand as Purity pleaded with God.

  The prayer ended, and Gillian felt the tug of Purity’s glance.

  “You don’t intend to dissolve your marriage, do you?”

  Gillian dabbed at her wet cheeks with the handkerchief and stared into the girl’s compassionate eyes. “Not if he’ll have me.” Her voice croaked. “If he lives.”

  “He won’t die. When I pray, I get a feeling of whether God will answer my prayers or not, and I know he’ll heal the captain.”

  The words, though irrational, brought a glimmer of hope, and Gillian managed a little smile. “How can you have such faith? When I pray, nothing but doubts come to mind.”

  “Just keep praying, and the faith will come.”

  Maybe Purity kept to herself so much she felt the Lord’s presence better than most. At any rate, her advice held a nugget of truth.

  Gillian shuddered like someone had dropped ice chips down her back. A deep chasm gaped between her hope and faith, but Purity was right. The only bridge was prayer.

  Chapter 24

  Alex held on through the next forty-eight hours, and then the fever raged despite all the doctor could do, and all Gillian’s tender nursing and Purity’s prayers couldn’t bring him back to full consciousness.

  How long could she hold onto hope? How long could she keep going? She refused to leave his side, even having meals brought in. A chaise lounge served as her bed, but she could count the hours she’d managed to sleep on one hand.

  It took both Gillian and Purity to force the medicine and broth down Alex’s throat.

  On the third day, he began to thresh about and she almost wished unconsciousness would take him again. Dr. Callahan tied him down, so he’d not disturb his wounds. His painful moans tore her asunder as if his pain pierced her. The future loomed dark and uncertain. She couldn’t think beyond each present moment, each precious moment he was still alive and near her.

  Aunt Mandy flitted in and out, declaring she was not a good nurse. After she gagged at the stench of the sickroom, Gillian had to agree.

  Abe took care of most of Alex’s personal needs, but Gillian insisted on bathing him.

  On the fourth day, after
she’d shaved him, she convinced herself he’d begun to look better. Younger. Almost boyish.

  She dipped over him as she often did and kissed his forehead to check his fever. He was still so hot, her lips burned. She took his hand in hers and cradled her cheek against it, letting her tears flow.

  ***

  An unknown force tried to pull Alex down a dark tunnel, and the more he struggled, the more his head pounded, accompanied with a loud, merciless ringing in his ears. He tried to open his mouth, but it was so dry, his lips stuck together.

  He blinked against the light, and the pain intensified. Still he had to see. A woman’s face swam into view. A beautiful woman with long, flowing, red hair. Her eyes were closed with long lashes casting dark crescents on her white cheeks. Her head lolled to the side as if she had nodded off in sleep.

  Mesmerized by the woman, he struggled to keep her lovely features in view, but the pain grew unbearable.

  Aware that she held his hand, he attempted to squeeze hers.

  “Alex.” He knew that soft voice, though it came as if from far away. The voice was musical with a curious mixture of Southern drawl and English accent. He had dreamed of that voice. He’d heard it sing. He tried to remember, but couldn’t. The force was pulling him back into the tunnel.

  It might have been a minute or an hour later, he returned to fight the monster who held him in its grip. He had to break free to see the girl with fiery, sunset hair again. She still held his hand and was pushing something in his mouth. He coughed and whispered her name.

  “Alex.” Gillian tenderly breathed the name. He fluttered his eyelids open. “Can you hear me, Alex?”

  He nodded, grateful the pounding had lessened.

  “That’s wonderful, darling, but don’t try to talk yet. Just eat your broth.”

  She’d called him, “darling.” To please her, he swallowed more of the broth than he wanted.

  “The doctor says your fever is getting better. You’ll grow stronger now.”

  “Where?” he rasped.

  She had to place her ear to his mouth to hear, and her hair tickled his nose. If only he had strength to touch that hair. Kiss those lips.

  “You’re at Aunt Mandy’s. Don’t worry. General Terry has been notified. The doctor ordered you not be moved.”

  In spite of the doctor’s warnings, Alex tried to get up the next morning and quickly returned to bed, weak as a new-born kitten. He’d never known what it was like to be an invalid. He’d not been injured in the war, nor been sick over a day in his life. It was an experience he never wanted to face again.

  As the fever lessened he could think more clearly, and the only thing he could do lying flat of his back was think. Like a chessboard laid out, he could see each movement of the enemy.

  Maybe the fever had burned off the fog in his brain. Now he knew who the culprit was—the one blackmailing Gilbert Carey and then extorting money from him. The one who’d attempted to murder him twice now. A determined man.

  A man who had so much to lose, he was doubtless at this moment planning a third attempt.

  Alex stared at the ceiling, going over the clues of this case. He couldn’t be mistaken. There was but one more bit of evidence he needed to expose the devil stalking in the shadows, no longer motivated by politics but sheer greed.

  While his body lay impotent, his mind raced. He weighed the option of confiding in Cal, but he couldn’t put the young lieutenant in jeopardy. He had his whole life ahead of him.

  Not that Alex was ready to die. He wanted a future with Gillian, his wife. They would move to the farm and bring up a little family. Put their roots down deep into the Missouri soil, but bring their children back to a peaceful Georgia often to spend time with their mother’s family.

  Now that he knew what must be done, all he could think of was Gillian and their future.

  If there was one bright spot in this ordeal it was Gillian hovering over him, her sweet rosewater scent cut through the harsh smell of illness and medicine. He always felt better with her near. Stronger. As she held his head to slip a clean pillow in place, he caught her free hand. “Does all this fuss mean you’ve come to care for me—or do you just like me in a helpless position?”

  She gave him that impish grin he adored. “Both.” She straightened. “But I don’t like seeing you helpless nearly as much as I love seeing you well and strong. My Alex, the Great.”

  That was enough for him to resolve to get out of this bed soon.

  Sheer grit had him working toward regaining his strength, and by the end of the next week, he could walk around the house without wanting to collapse.

  This experience, as painful as it was, brought unexpected blessings. Gillian had declared him to be her husband, and her tender care proclaimed her love. That in itself made everything he’d suffered worthwhile.

  Finishing his mission wasn’t the only goal toward regaining his strength. He was ready to become her husband in every way.

  He nursed a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper in Amanda’s library when Gillian snuck up on him, holding something behind her back. Shoving the paper aside, he smiled. “What do you have there?”

  She slipped a small picture frame to her front, it’s back facing him. “A painting?”

  Turning it around, she snickered. “You recognize this, don’t you?”

  “Our marriage certificate from that little mountain church.”

  “Signed by a real preacher and two sane witnesses.”

  He took the document and looked into her laughing face. “Does this mean you’re going to keep me?” He already knew. She’d proved it to him every minute of his convalesce. No wife could have been more faithful or loving. She’d even whispered those precious words over and over again in the quiet moments of the night.

  She moved around behind him and wrapped her arm around his neck. “It means you’re leg-shackled for life, and I’m going to be a farmer’s wife.”

  He swiveled his head to catch her gaze. “You think you’re going to be satisfied as a farmer’s wife?”

  “I will—if you’re the farmer.” She kissed him on the cheek and stepped back around to prop her hip on the desk. “Aunt Mandy has gone to great lengths to keep our marriage secret from the visitors. It’s probably a badly kept secret, but we shouldn’t make a public announcement until we see Papa.”

  He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll agree to that, but I don’t want to wait to claim all my husbandly privileges.”

  She leaned in to kiss him on the mouth, long and slow. “You won’t have to if we’re careful. The doctor has released you from the sickroom, provided you don’t rip open your stitches.”

  He tapped the framed marriage certificate. “I’d like for us to repeat our vows in my home church, though. My folks will like that. By the way, I have a letter I wrote to them that needs posting.”

  “I’ll take it after lunch when I get our tickets to Macon. We leave tomorrow, and your discharge papers are waiting there.”

  That forced a frown to his brows. He’d been in bed nearly two weeks, which meant very little time remained to finish his job for the army. “Gillian, pull up a chair. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  She obeyed, a matching scowl on her face. “Is something wrong?”

  “I told you I’m assigned to a secret investigation into the political corruption going on with Georgia Reconstruction.”

  “Yes, and Aunt Mandy told me she’d been working with you.” She raised a hand to forestall the objection hovering on his lips. “I know she’s deeply involved with the chicanery involved in state government, pretending she’s working for the Democrats in the Georgia delegation, but she’s really reporting to the governor.”

  He smiled. “Amanda has been most helpful.” But even Amanda didn’t know the one behind the political unrest, and it was better that she not guess.

  “I still don’t know what part Papa plays in all this, but I do know those who are stirring up trouble are doing so
more to line their pockets than their concern for restoring the government.”

  The desire to share everything with her swelled his chest. He could trust her with his life. She was already the other half of him.

  “I think I’ve zeroed in on the leader of the extortion ring your father is caught up in.”

  “Who?”

  He couldn’t answer that yet. “Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been the object of these attacks we’ve encountered since we arrived in Macon, including this last one?”

  “Or they could have been after me. They know you’re investigating. It’s not so secret.”

  “Indeed, but how would they know?”

  “I haven’t the vaguest. I didn’t know until you told me, and if I wasn’t already in love with you, I probably would have turned you in.”

  He kissed her hand again. “How fortunate for me you love me.”

  “But you weren’t the object of the attack on the train. Or was it an attack?”

  “Oh, it was definitely an attack—meant as a red herring to throw me off track.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You lived in England all those years and don’t know what a red herring is?”

  She shook her head, and he explained. “Hunters would draw a red herring, the fish, across the trail to throw off the scent of hunting dogs.”

  “Why would they want to do that—not the English hunters, these villains?” She shook her pretty head. “No, it’s not important. How was the train accident a red herring?”

  “They would assume I’d think you were the intended victim because you were the reason your father was being blackmailed.”

  “And I wasn’t?”

  “I don’t think you were ever a target. But what they didn’t realize was it gave me a clue to the culprit. I discovered Reuben Dabney had hired someone to insert a defective part on the train, designed to wear out at exactly the right time. Coincidentally, I also found out Reuben Dabney was approved to buy an interest in the railroad only days before.”

  “You think Reuben is involved?”

  “I’m fairly certain he is, but only as a flunkey. The ring-leader would be the one who signed the approval for his purchase of railroad interest, and those papers would be filed in Macon.”