“How badly?” Theo raised the man’s head in one broad palm and probed with his fingers.
“Is he—did a bullet. . .” Lily couldn’t form the right question in her mind, let alone speak it aloud. Despite her own misgivings regarding Ben Purcell threatening her role as the closest thing to family Mrs. Twining had, Lily didn’t want him to suffer. Nor did she wish to be the one to tell the elderly lady that her sole blood kin was. . .dying. It would break Mrs. Twining’s heart after so many weeks of hope and anticipation.
Tears began to course down Lily’s face. The wind chilled them against her skin. “Theo—” She stopped again. She closed her eyes, deciding she was better off praying for the Lord to help.
“Cut a furrow right across his scalp.” Theo gave his report in a soothing tone. “Stunned him, but he’s not going to die on us.”
Thank You, Lord.
Lily opened her eyes. “He’ll die if we don’t get him someplace warm and have the doctor see to him—sew him up or whatever is necessary.”
She knew nothing of gunshot wounds. Browning City was not the Wild West. Occasionally a farmhand drank too much and fired his gun, but that was more in high spirits than anything. Rifles were for hunting.
“We need to stop the bleeding.” It was the only thing she could think to do. She yanked off her mittens and tossed them on the ground; then she opened her pocketbook and drew out her handkerchief—a scrap of linen and crocheted lace. It was an inadequate bandage at best, but it was all she had.
“I’ll do it.” Theo snatched the cloth from her and pressed it to the gash above the man’s right ear.
So close. Another half an inch. . .
Lily swallowed a bitter taste in her throat. “I—I guess I can go run for help, but I hate leaving you here with some crazy man shooting off a gun.”
“I’ll be all right, and you can go faster than I can.”
She could, and they needed help at once. Still she hesitated. She glanced from Theo’s craggy face, a crease cutting between his bushy eyebrows like a river valley, to the stranger’s smooth, strong features.
Her mouth went dry. She had seen some handsome men in her life, but even in repose, this man topped them all.
“Get going, child.” Theo’s voice held a chuckle as though he understood the reason for her hesitation did not stem entirely from her concern about leaving him alone with the unconscious man. “Mr. Purcell here will be catching an ague.”
“So it is Ben Purcell.” Lily sprang to her feet. Her knee threatened to buckle, and she grabbed the handle of the cart for support.
The cart.
“Theo, we can take him to town on this. I’m sure the two of us can lift him that high. Of course, we’ll have to leave his trunk behind, but don’t you think getting him to help is more important than possessions?”
Not that she would want her worldly goods left in the middle of the road.
“Good thinking.” Theo rose. “Now you let me get that trunk down. It’s mighty heavy.”
Despite his protests, Lily assisted the older man in lowering the trunk to the road. Lifting Ben Purcell onto the handcart would be easy after the weight of his luggage.
She was wrong. He was a big man and a dead weight. No, not dead—limp. He would not be dead. Mrs. Twining had lost too many family members in her lifetime, including her children. Learning of Ben’s whereabouts had brought her so much joy, it simply could not vanish before she had a chance to get to know him and appreciate him. Not appreciate him to the exclusion of you, my girl. Lily squashed the uncharitable thought, but it hung in her heart like a lead weight.
She must help him. Yet neither she nor Theo possessed the strength to get him off the ground high enough to set him on the cart bed even with a unified effort. On their second try, she thought she heard him moan. The third time, an outright groan emanated from his lips.
Perspiring inside her wool dress and coat, Lily set Mr. Purcell’s feet back onto the road. If this were a big city, she could ask a dozen passersby for aid. Not here among the warehouses and silos between Browning City and the depot. At nightfall in the winter, with another train not due for hours, no one would pass by them soon enough to be of help.
“I’ll have to run for help after all.” She gritted her teeth in frustration. “We’re hurting him. We can cover him with this.” She unbuttoned her coat.
“No.” The soft word from the wounded man cut through the air.
Lily jumped. “Mr. Purcell?”
“Not your coat.” His speech sounded a little blurry. “Such a tiny thing. You’ll freeze.”
“Sir, I. . .” Lily felt her cheeks heat.
Theo guffawed. “Run along, girl. I think he’ll do fine.”
The buttons unfastened, Lily pulled off her coat and started to drape it over Mr. Purcell despite his protest.
He held up one hand and pushed it away. “I said no.” His voice came out stronger, and he raised himself on one elbow. “Where’s the mule?”
“Mule?” Theo and Lily asked together.
“The one that kicked me in the head.”
“No mule, sir.” Lily shook her head. “It was—”
Theo stooped again to slip his hands beneath Mr. Purcell’s shoulders. “If I give you a hand, do you think you can get yourself into the cart?”
“If you can help me work out which way is up.”
“That way.” Lily pointed at the sky now growing darker by the minute.
“Funny.” Mr. Purcell gave Lily a crooked, if somewhat thin-lipped, grin and pointed one finger at her. “Thought I saw an angel over thatta way.”
Lily’s cheeks heated. She didn’t want this man to flirt with her. She wanted Matt to flirt with her, so she could care about him, not this stranger, this interloper.
Theo chuckled. “She is purty enough to be an angel.”
“You’re both full of nonsense.” Lily pressed her cold hands against her hot cheeks. “I’m going to run ahead and warn the doctor to expect you.”
“Why don’t we take him straight to Mrs. Twining?” Theo eased Mr. Purcell to a sitting position. “She will be expecting him by now.”
“Was going to the hotel.” Mr. Purcell raised his hands to his head. When his fingers touched the gash, he grimaced. “Guess I do need a doc.”
“He has an extra room if it’s available.” Lily feared it might not be with the cold weather bringing on the influenza. “Mrs. Twining doesn’t have any space.”
He could use your room, and you could stay with Rebecca.
Lily’s conscience pricked her as she watched Mr. Purcell struggle to rise high enough for Theo to help him onto the cart bed.
“Of course he should stay with Mrs. Twining,” Lily said. “She wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Hoping neither man guessed her momentary selfishness, Lily turned and dashed down the road toward town.
Although no more than a quarter mile away, Browning City might go unnoticed to a nighttime traveler save for the scents of coal and wood smoke and cooking dinners in the air and the occasional flash of a lantern as someone performed outdoor chores. Businesses closed at supper time. In the winter, Lily arrived at work in the dark. If she had to stay late, she went home in the darkness, too. So she knew the road well. This evening, the wind drove the clouds from the sky, leaving it full of stars as she had longed for the previous night.
She welcomed them, too, though for a far different reason. She moved faster. In a few minutes, she reached the doctor’s house on the edge of town. As she feared, someone with influenza and no family to take care of him slept in the physician’s spare room.
“But if he’s been shot, he needs more care than he’ll get at the hotel, good as Mrs. Meddler can be.” Doc Smythe shook his head. His glasses winked in the lamplight. “Shot indeed. Do they think we’re in the territories or something?”
“I don’t know. I guess I should tell the sheriff, too.” Lily shoved her icy fingers into the pockets of her coat. “But I’d better g
et to Mrs. Twining’s first.”
“You do that. I’ll let the sheriff know when I’m done with the lad.” Doc Smythe grabbed up his bag. “I’ll just go out to meet Theo. Shot indeed.”
Lily heard him muttering as he headed in the opposite direction from her. “Shot indeed,” she said herself. “Nonsense.”
Yet Ben Purcell bore a gash on the side of his head where something had furrowed across his scalp. Nothing but a bullet could do so much damage from far enough away that the perpetrator remained hidden from the road.
Lily suddenly grew aware of how the cottonwoods and warehouses made excellent cover along the road and increased her pace. Her knee throbbed. She bit down on the pain, lifted her skirts into her hands, and raced up the road until it turned into Main Street. Past Pine Street, then Oak; past the Gilchrist Mercantile, newspaper office, and the office side of the livery. When she reached Maple Street, she turned and fairly galloped the last block to Mrs. Twining’s cottage. Breathless, she leaped up the two front steps, pounded across the porch, and yanked open the front door. “Mrs. Twining?”
Her words emerged between gasps for breath. “Missus—oh, there you are.” She stopped in the center of the parlor, her hand to her heaving chest. “There’s. . .been. . .an accident.”
At least she hoped it had been an accident and not some lunatic taking target practice on newcomers.
“Then catch your breath and tell me.” Mrs. Twining’s quavery voice and faded blue eyes conveyed calm and peace.
Lily wanted to sink down at the older woman’s feet and let her talk of God’s mercy and love until the panic departed.
“But there isn’t time.” She spoke her protest and regret aloud. “They’ll be here any minute now.”
“If you’re referring to Ben’s early arrival, that nice young man from the telegraph dropped off the telegram.” Mrs. Twining smiled. “How glad I will be to see him.”
“I’m not so certain of that.” Lily bit her lip, reorganized her thoughts. “The accident—the incident involves Mr. Purcell.”
“It does?” Mrs. Twining leaned forward in her straight-backed chair. Her lined face paled. “Is he—what happened?”
“We think someone was out shooting and hit him.” Afraid the elderly lady would have an apoplexy, Lily grasped her shoulders. “But it’s only a flesh wound. Theo Forsling is bringing him with the handcart. And the doctor has gone out to meet them.”
“Shooting, you say?” Mrs. Twining stared at the window with its covering of white lace curtains. “Shot?”
“Yes. He should be all right, but he couldn’t go to the hotel. . . . Mrs. Twining, should I get you a glass of water? Some tea?”
“No, no, thank you.” Mrs. Twining shifted her shoulders, allowing them to settle in their normal, erect pose, and raised her chin. “Then we must see to things here. You won’t mind giving up your room to him, will you?”
“They’re already bringing him here.” Lily headed down the short hallway from which one reached both bedrooms. “I’ll clear out some of my things for him and pack some stuff to take to Rebecca’s.”
“It won’t do. She lives all the way across town.” Mrs. Twining followed Lily into the bedroom, leaning heavily on her cane. “You can stay next door with Mildred Willoughby.”
“But. . .” Lily would not argue about how “all the way across town” was only six blocks and Mildred Willoughby next door would keep her up talking all night. Not to mention that Mrs. Willoughby would expect payment if Lily needed to stay more than a single night. Of course, she could not impose on Becky’s family, either.
Oh, the depletion of her savings!
But it couldn’t be helped. Mr. Purcell needed to stay with his aunt until the livery was ready for him. And Mrs. Twining would still need her around to help with the cooking and cleaning, which Lily already did to earn her room and board. The arrangement worked well for both ladies. Lily could save most of her earnings, and Mrs. Twining could remain in the house her husband had built for her more than thirty years earlier, before Iowa was even a state. Otherwise, she would have to go back east and live with her late husband’s sister in Philadelphia.
Lily knew her choice in a similar situation would be Philadelphia. She knew no other land than Iowa, but how she wanted to.
Someday. . .if she didn’t have to deplete her savings paying someone rent.
Her conscience pricked her again, and she returned her attention to Mrs. Twining.
“As soon as they get here,” she said, “I’ll go ask Mrs. Willoughby. Right now, I should get some hot water going.”
She stepped back into the tiny entryway in time to hear the rumble of the cart’s two wheels on frozen mud and the murmur of men’s voices. She opened the door. Thin streams of light from lamps in the parlor illuminated Theo, Doc, and Mr. Purcell. With the aid of the two Browning City men, Ben Purcell climbed off the cart and headed up the front steps. Blood streaked the side of his face and lay in a dark patch over his shoulder.
Not a good way to meet a long-lost relative.
“Will you go heat the water?” Lily asked, hoping Mrs. Twining would go straightaway and not see her nephew in such a condition.
“You can do that, child. I haven’t seen this lad since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, and I’m not going to let a little blood scare me off now.”
It was a lot, not a little. Still, Lily would not argue with her elder.
“Yes, ma’am.” She backed toward the kitchen, not wanting to miss the reunion.
Ben Purcell stepped across the threshold to his great-aunt’s house under his own power. Though he appeared to waver a bit and braced himself with one palm against the door frame, he held open his arms. So tiny she stood no higher than his chest, Mrs. Twining rushed to him, cane thudding, and threw her arms around his waist.
“My dear boy.”
“Great-Aunt Deborah.” He curved one arm around her shoulders and bowed his head.
Lily noticed his scalp now bore a white bandage. He still supported himself with his free hand against the door frame. She thought he needed to be lying down. Yet who would interrupt this moment? Certainly not she, despite the frigid air swirling through the house and chilling her face.
Her wet face.
She dashed the tears away with the back of her hand and spun toward the kitchen. She would not, not, not allow her own pain to cloud Mrs. Twining’s happy meeting with her great-nephew. The death of Lily’s remaining family three years earlier gave her no cause to feel hurt that the closest person to her had found a real relation.
Work. She must make herself busy. Occupation with her hands helped keep her mind away from thoughts she did not wish to entertain.
“I am not jealous.” She set the pan atop the stove with more force than necessary. “Jealousy is a sin.”
She dipped water from the bucket beside the back door and poured it into the pan. She needed more wood for the stove and would now need to pump more water from the well in the yard.
“Miss Lily?” Theo banged open the kitchen door. “Doc needs some hot water.”
“Soon.” Lily emptied another dipperful into the pan. “Is he—will he be all right?”
“In a few days. Here, let me fetch you some more wood.” He slipped out the back door and returned in a moment with an armful of short logs. “Doc wants him to rest here for a few days.”
Only a few. Paying someone rent for a few days wouldn’t set her back too far in her plans for escape from Iowa before the year was out.
But what would happen if Mrs. Twining liked having her nephew around instead of Lily? The older woman owed Lily nothing. She wasn’t family.
Lily gnawed her lower lip as she poured hot water into a bowl for Theo to carry in to the doctor; then she set a pot on the stove for coffee. She disliked the idea of being stranded in Iowa any longer than necessary. Browning City was not home—was not where she belonged. It was merely a depot on her journey. . . . She hoped.
Her heart began to race as i
t had on the road earlier, and she opened the kitchen window for fresh air to breathe.
Room and board would take all of her wages if it came to that. She wouldn’t be able to save any more, or so little she would be old before she got to the city. She would be too old to attract the kind of husband she truly wanted, a man who enjoyed social activity and bright lights. A man who enjoyed travel, like Matt. . . A man who could provide her with a fine house. . . A home to call her own.
But Ben Purcell didn’t have a home of his own, either. He had intended to go to the hotel, since the room behind the livery wasn’t yet fit for anyone’s habitation.
“If it were ready. . .”
Able to breathe without effort, Lily closed the window and bustled around the kitchen, cutting slices of cake, setting out cups for coffee, checking the larder for something with which she could prepare soup for the invalid. Now her heart raced with excitement and purpose.
Tomorrow she would offer her services to Mr. Gilchrist to make the room behind the livery so inviting that Ben Purcell would want to live there instead of with his aunt.
Three
The joy in Ben’s heart proved powerful enough to counteract the pounding in his head. The latter, he knew, would go away in a day or two, though the scar would remain with him for all his mortal life. The former, however, felt as if it grew each time he saw his great-aunt.
“Family.”
The six letters tasted sweet on his tongue—
Unlike the bitter medicine the doctor insisted he take for the pain.
One aunt wasn’t much family to most folk, Ben supposed. It wasn’t the wife and children for whom he daily prayed to come into his life. Yet one aunt in the form of Deborah Twining, whose faith in God seemed to be as powerful as she appeared to be frail, was enough for Ben’s happiness to bubble up each time she thumped her cane into his room for an hour or two of talking about his mother and other relatives and discussing how he wished to settle in a small town like Browning City and get his own land.
Better Than Gold Page 2