JAKE’S WISH WAS GRANTED. The doctor diagnosed a broken ankle and wrapped it first in wool then in plaster of Paris up over his knee, and confined him to the house for three weeks. After examining Jesse, Barber prescribed the same confinement for her.
Brian went back to the canyon to see to the stock, and Rebecca went along to keep him company, flicking off Jesse’s sly suggestion that they needed a chaperone. Jesse and Adam settled into the guest room, and Daniel made Jake a pair of crutches so he could get downstairs in the morning on his own, though he’d need help in the evening to get up to bed. Jake thanked his father and brother heartily for installing the bathroom for his grandmother, sure that his life would have been miserable without it.
For the first week Jake was a model patient, obeying the doctor’s orders to the letter, drinking the comfrey root tea his mother prescribed, and reveling in the attention she lavished on him. But a love of confinement wasn’t in his nature and, by the tenth day, he was surly and short-tempered.
Bundled in a thick blue robe, Jesse sat next to him on the couch. He’d grown so much over the summer that, even though he slouched, her head barely came to his shoulder. Her cough was gone, but she was still weak and easily tired from her illness.
“What did I tell you? Be careful what you wish for—didn’t I say that? But noooo...” She saw a little smile beginning to form. “You had to ask for it. Well, now you’ve got it! And it ain’t as much fun as you thought, is it?”
“No. I didn’t know I’d have to drink that awful tea!”
“You should try some of the things they give me.”
“I guess I shouldn’t complain. But Jesse, don’t you ever feel like you’ve just gotta get out of here?”
“Yes,” she said, looking away from him. “Sometimes I just want to go home.” She turned back with a deliberate brightness on her face. “Here, why don’t we play checkers? That’ll be good for both of us.”
Jesse continued to put herself out to entertain him and at the end of the three weeks, the boyish adoration Jake had felt for her was gone, and he’d fallen deeply in love. He didn’t speak of it, but the change in him was noticed by his family. He’d always been a happy-go-lucky lad, and was still bright and optimistic. But he seemed older somehow, and quieter. The gangly clumsiness of youth was gone, and he deliberated before speaking. And when he’d healed enough to leave the house, he did so eagerly and yet sadly.
Jesse pulled her cloak around her shoulders and followed him out to the porch. The day, though cold, was bright and fresh, the breeze carrying the tang of cedars down from the mountains. Jake balanced on one crutch and leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“Thanks,” he said, “for everything.”
“You’re welcome, Jake,” she answered, then gave him a passable imitation of his father’s brogue, “What families are for.”
He had to laugh. He hobbled down the porch steps, turned at the bottom to wave up at her, then went to the barn to visit his young stallion.
ON THE MORNING AFTER Christmas, just before Adam took her home, Jake presented Jesse with the black filly he’d outgrown. As she stood next to Fancy, Jesse’s eyes sparkled with tears.
“Thank you,” she said with a quaver in her voice. “She’s such a beautiful little horse. I’ll take good care of her. And in the spring, I’ll be able to ride her.”
She took Jake’s hand and squeezed it while he turned crimson. He managed to bend and kiss her cheek with grace, before blurting out, “It’s because she’s just as pretty as you are.”
It was Jesse’s turn to blush, while Adam wrung his brother’s hand. In what seemed to be an imitation of Daniel’s voice, Adam growled, “Thanks, boy-o.” He tied the filly to the buggy then helped his wife in. Jake watched in happiness as she turned and waved her thanks again as they drove off.
Chapter 20
As was his habit after dinner, whatever the weather, Daniel sat on the front porch smoking his pipe. For the past week, he’d gone hunting every day but had little to show for it. Trekking alone through deep snow had left him exhausted. As he looked up to the winking stars, his thoughts turned to Annie. With the insight she’d inherited from her mother, the charming, ethereal girl had a way of soothing his soul. He ached to spend even a few minutes with her. In spite of the snow, he knew he could make it to her home in the village within the hour, so he put on his snowshoes and took himself to town.
The lights were low in the bootmaker’s cottage, sending a frisson up his spine. His sister Evelyn answered his knock on the door with tears on her face.
“Oh, Daniel, how did you get here so fast?”
“What? What’s wrong? Tell me!”
“It’s Annie. She collapsed this afternoon—the doctor’s here. We haven’t been able to bring her around. I sent Tommy for you—didn’t you see him?”
Dazed, Daniel shook his head. He hadn’t stuck to the trails, but made a beeline across his father’s fields to the village. Voices rumbled above—Annie’s father and the doctor.
“Give me your coat,” Evelyn said with a crack in her voice. “I’ll make you some coffee.”
“I want to see her.” He threw his coat on the divan and, without waiting for his sister’s response, climbed the narrow stairs to see the doctor standing by the window, and Annie’s father sitting on the side of her bed. He looked over Owen’s shoulder.
So pale, so peaceful. Please, don’t let her go away now.
He brushed past Owen and knelt beside the bed, stretched his arm out around her pillow and moved his face in close to hers.
“Aroon,” he murmured. “Aroon.”
He waited without breathing and felt rather than heard her small response. No more than a quickening of her blood.
“Aroon, I need you.” He put his lips next to her ear. “Annie, sweetheart, please come back.”
Her response was barely audible. The doctor reached in to take her hand, feel for the pulse in her wrist, but Daniel didn’t move.
“Aroon,” he whispered once more.
Daniel? Are you here?
Yes, sweetheart.
Where am I?
I don’t know. Come back to me, my precious love. I need you.
Yes.
Her eyelids fluttered and fell again, then opened to recognize him.
“Daniel,” she whispered. She raised a weak hand to his cheek. He turned into it, kissed the palm. In a voice full of wonder, she said, “You were always there.”
“And I’m here now. I love you, aroon. Stay with me, please.”
“Stay with me,” she echoed as her eyes fell shut again. His arms closed around her as she turned toward him. “Don’t go.”
“No, sweetheart.” He raised her up until her head nestled against his shoulder, and he stroked her hair. “Sleep now, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Her breathing became deep and regular as she lay there in his arms. He heard Theo and Owen speaking in soft tones behind him, but he concentrated all of his attention and strength on her. She murmured once against his neck and stirred once in her dreams.
Let me keep her, he begged the all-mother, for just a little while longer. I know I will lose her one day to this thing, this pain. But not now, please not now. Give her time to learn what love is. Give us both time.
When he looked up again, they were alone. He could hear Evelyn weeping, and Owen’s soothing words drifting up the stairs. “She’ll be all right now. Don’t cry, caraid. She’s all right.”
Daniel gazed at the sleeping girl in his arms. How long it would last, he couldn’t know, but she was all right for now. He, on the other hand, was in considerable discomfort—the knee he’d cracked in childhood was pounding in protest and there was a cramp in his lower back. He leaned away, but Annie whimpered and her hand fluttered against his chest.
“Shhh. Hush now.” Without releasing her, he struggled to his feet. He lifted her carefully and moved her closer to the wall, then stretched himself out on top of her covers. She made another little
sound as he drew her close again. He put his face against her hair, smelled the fragrance that reminded him of honey. He’d loved her so much—for all his life it seemed. When she was ready, they’d marry. Let it be soon, for I do not know how much time we will have.
WHEN OWEN PEEKED IN on them, he saw their heads together on his daughter’s pillow, Daniel’s deep auburn a marked contrast to Annie’s light gold. I should not allow this. I should dump him on the floor and beat him senseless. Instead, he plucked a bright afghan off the quilt stand in the corner and covered them both. I don’t care. I wouldn’t care if he painted himself blue and danced naked around the house. He brought her back to me. I don’t know how, and neither does the doctor. We were so sure this would be the last time.
Until the minute he walked in the door.
That very minute, the color came back to her face. She’d been so pale, her skin was almost blue. She’s still pale. But not like that. God bless him. And thank you for letting him come in time. As quietly as he could, Owen left them there alone.
WHEN ANNIE BEGAN TO stir against him, Daniel woke. It was pitch dark outside, but the light from the parlor stole up and around the corner of the stairs. He felt the afghan resting on his shoulders, but knew he couldn’t let Annie find them sleeping together in her bed, no matter how much her father might approve. With his free arm, he pushed the coverlet aside and slipped off the bed onto his knees again.
It was only a moment before she opened her eyes. He took the hand she held out to him, then got up and sat on the bed. “Feeling better?”
She gave him a shy smile. “What time is it?”
“After nine. Are you hungry?”
She thought for a moment. “Yes, I think I am.”
“Do you want to get up?” He stroked her hair. She stretched her long neck, rubbed her head against his palm like a kitten and closed her eyes again.
“I guess I should,” she said.
“You don’t have to, aroon.”
“I really should.”
“Let me light this lamp.” Daniel reached in his pocket for his matches.
“No.”
Even in the shadows he could see her blush. “Suppose I send Evelyn up to give you a hand?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He turned back at the top of the stairs, gave her a long look full of his love. She closed her eyes again, drifting off a bit, back to the first time Daniel had declared his love—the first time she realized he’d always been there when she needed him.
The previous spring, the community had gathered at the Donovan homestead to celebrate Adam and Jesse’s wedding. The toast had been drunk, the gifts presented, music and dancing and food indulged in beyond all reason. But her heart had been broken by Brian’s obvious attachment to his new sister-in-law. She’d loved Brian since they were children and never considered another, but was much too shy to ever tell anyone, much less confess it to him. But she knew the big man’s heart—and it would never be hers.
The dream she’d cherished since childhood dissolved into mist. She’d been on the verge of tears when Daniel took her hand and led her down the slope, away from the laughter and noise of the crowd. In the orchard, where benches were arranged among the trees, he sat beside her and didn't let go of her hand.
“Annie...”
“It’s hopeless. I know. I guess I’ve known all along.”
Suppressing a sigh, she stood to go, but Daniel stepped in front of her. “Annie, there is a man who loves you.”
“Daniel...”
“Yes. Daniel.”
She’d listened in growing confusion as he told her of his love. Of the years he’d stood aside, knowing his words would only bring her pain. She’d listened to the voice as rough as emery on slate, listened for the first time to the Irish lilt twined around the southern drawl. And heard a music she’d never heard before.
“Aroon, I love you.” He took her hands and kissed them with a tender passion she’d never dreamed him capable of. “Please give me a chance.”
Her tears fell, and he groaned as he pulled her into his arms, the muscles rippling under his soft buckskin shirt. One part of her marveled at the way her head fit into the hollow between his shoulder and throat; another wondered at the tenderness of the hand that cradled her head, of the strong fingers that lost themselves in her long fine hair. A third part of her protested her fickleness—she’d always wanted Brian. What was she doing now in his brother’s arms?
She stepped back and sat again on the bench. She glanced up at him sideways, seeing him as if for the first time. The auburn hair worn long in the back, the flowing mustache, the eyes of so deep a blue as to be almost black. The scarf he tied tightly around his neck. His shirt, laced with rawhide thongs, the fine copper-colored hairs showing between the laces. Her hand flicked toward them—she stilled it quickly as shame flooded through her body.
“But, Daniel... can you make love happen?”
“I can try. If you’ll let me.” His voice was so tender beneath the gruffness, she wanted to cry again. “Will you think about it?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I will.”
Later, she sat on the high seat of the buggy as her brother drove them home. Her hands laced together in her lap, still warm from Daniel’s touch. She was warm all over, in spite of the damp and cooling air. Warm where his arms had held her, where his lips had touched her hair. Where her cheek had nuzzled against the soft deerskin on his shoulder. She wondered how her head could fit so perfectly into that spot—and how one small word could have made her heart turn over.
Aroon, he’d said, and the love she’d felt for his brother had been that quickly eclipsed. But how could she love him when he was so different from the one she’d always wanted?
So different, and yet so much the same. Both gentle men, strong men, men with values and morals that never bend. And yet to look at them—Brian as tall and wide as a tree with a smile for everyone and an optimism I’ve rarely seen shaken. Daniel quieter, more serious, slow to smile but quick to laugh at himself. His mustache had tickled her ear as he held her, muffled his voice as he whispered. Aroon...
“So Daniel finally spoke up, did he?” Lowell asked.
“Finally?”
“Annie, don’t you know how long he’s loved you?”
“How long?” she whispered.
“Ever since we were kids. Ever since the Donovans moved out here. When you were five years old, you wouldn’t play with Evelyn and her dolls. You wouldn’t stay in the yard with the little kids. You wanted to do what the big boys did. Me and Adam, Brian and Conor. You followed us. After a while, you followed Brian. And Daniel followed you.”
“Did he?”
“Every inch of the way. Don’t you remember when you cut your foot on that rock and were bleeding so much? Who made you put your foot in the air to stop the bleeding? Who tore his shirt to pieces to make a bandage, then wrapped the bandage tight with those rawhide laces he always has a pocketful of? And who carried you all the way home again?”
“Daniel.” The answer came quick and soft. Again she wondered how she could have been so blind.
“Um-hmm. And who taught you to call turkeys, found the flowers in the woods for you to pick? And who, little sister, when you passed out, would make his shirt into a pillow for your head, and stay with you while the rest of us went back to our games?” Lowell turned his face away from her, still ashamed that he’d done virtually nothing to help her.
She took a long time to answer him. “What should I do?”
“Let him love you, Annie.”
“But, Lowell...”
“I know, caraid. You’ve always thought about Brian and haven’t considered Daniel. But he’s the one who loves you. You know that now.
“Shhh,” he murmured, reining in the team and putting his arm around her. “There’s nothing to cry about. He loves you, Annie. He always has. What you’ve felt for Brian is real, but it was a childhood attraction—it won't stand up against Daniel’s lo
ve.
“Daniel’s always been around when you needed him. He’s never even looked at anyone else. Let him love you. Give him a chance to make you love him.” He tapped her nose once. “He’ll make you happy, caraid. Just give him a chance.”
Chapter 21
After a hard winter, with more snow than anyone but Tommy remembered, spring came early and brought with it an incessant rain. As the snow in the high mountains melted, the river rose and overflowed its banks. White’s Station became a morass of mud even before its streets filled with water. Doc Barber and his sister Jane sought refuge with the Donovans, and they were only the first of those fleeing low ground. The doctor and Tommy braved the weather to visit the Navajo encampment and returned, soaked to the skin and shivering, with a load of bad news.
“Some o’ them renegades are back,” Tommy said in disgust, holding his hands out to the warmth of the kitchen fire. “Tribe won't turn ’em out in this weather.”
“That’s not the worst of it.” Barber took the coffee Molly offered with a nod of thanks. “They’ve taken to the caves, and I’m worried about the old ones and that boy, Blue Deer. There’s six or seven little ones, too. None of them are strong enough to fight off infection—influenza could wipe out the whole tribe. Not to mention cholera.”
“I talked t’ the elders, tried t’ explain the danger.” Tommy rubbed both hands over his face. “Runnin’ Wolf is willin’ to listen, even if some o’ the others ain’t. But we gotta show ’im a solid plan. They won't even talk about being broke up—they wanna stay together.”
“How many would you say they number?” John Patrick asked.
“Mebbe fifty, countin’ the kids.”
The old man lit his pipe and puffed in silence for a few minutes.
“We’ve six bunkhouses with eight bunks in each.” He waved a hand to cut off any protests, fully aware of the logistical problems. “Right now Flaherty has one with his family. We can double up here to make room for them.
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