“Call me if you need me,” was all he managed to get out before leaving the crowded kitchen.
Dr. Parker poked his head in around the door a few moments later. “How is she, Peter?”
“Still doing well, Liam, but I’ll stay with her to be sure.”
Dr. Parker indicated he was leaving with the constables to operate on their prisoner. A bullet would need to be removed.
“I can’t leave,” Peter said. “She might start bleeding again. That chloroform we used will wear off soon, and I’ll have to give her some more to keep her settled.”
“I understand. I know you only brought a limited supply, and I don’t think we can waste it on the other patient. He’ll have to do without it, if that’s any consolation.”
“If you run into trouble, send for me and I’ll see what I can do,” Peter said.
“I’ll be fine. I took a load of buckshot out of one of the Mahoney boys a few weeks ago. That was good practice. Don’t worry, Peter. You stay here, where you’re needed most.”
Dr. Parker left, heading back to the church where Bolt had been carried. He’d take the bullet out there with the help of a couple of volunteers. If he was successful, then Bolt would stand trial. Bolt would be taken to St. John’s by boat when he was able to travel, since there were no courts or jails in the vicinity.
11
Mary had shot a man! It didn’t matter that he was going to hurt Danol or that he would have killed them all—she had shot somebody. She couldn’t shake that fact, no matter how hard she tried. If she had waited a few more seconds, Danol would be dead and who knows what would have happened to her. Still, she’d shot somebody, meaning to kill him. What was happening to her life?
Carla put hot sweet tea to her lips. She sputtered first but managed to drink a little. After a few swallows, the sugar infused her veins and she became more aware of her surroundings. She felt as if she was in a bad dream while still awake. She was in a fine state, too—her hair was still a mess. She hadn’t had a chance to pull a comb through it—silly how that meant something at a time like this.
“Carla, can you comb out my hair? Meg was going to do it, but . . .” Mary’s voice trailed off.
“Of course I can,” Carla answered, happy for the distraction.
It was a chore to get liquids into Danol because Mary wouldn’t let go of his hand as she sat next to the daybed. Danol squeezed her hand every now and again to let her know he was with her. Mary kept staring at the front room door as Carla tugged the comb through the knots in her hair.
Nobody asked who Danol was, how he got there, or why he was there—that would all be answered in due time. Right now her neighbours were standing vigil and sending silent prayers for Meg. At least Mary had company this time; she had been alone with Mom and Da and the others during the last crisis.
Meg’s mom and dad were in the front room with Richard. Chairs had been brought in from a nearby house to make them comfortable. Her woodbox was filled, water was fetched, kettles were boiled, and food simmered on the stove, all thanks to her neighbours. Mary sat on the chair and continued to focus on the front room door.
It was her fault the man had gotten in. She should have been more careful and kept that back door barred, as her father had left it. She shouldn’t have gone into the woods for so long. She shouldn’t have foolishly been distracted by silly, prideful notions. She shouldn’t have done a lot of things, especially letting Peter Nolan back into her heart. Not that he had ever left it, but she’d hidden that black-and-blue mark until yesterday.
Now Meg was paying for her choices—maybe with her life! She should have trusted that her neighbours would protect Danol and keep him safe, instead of getting the idiotic idea that she could do it herself. These thoughts kept playing over and over in her head. She didn’t know what she’d do if Meg died. Please God don’t let her die.
It seemed like days passed, but it was only hours. Danol was awake, she was sure of that. She felt the comfort of his hand on hers.
Peter came out from the front room and stood before her once again. Gently taking her free hand, he helped her up. “Meg is asking for you,” he stated simply.
Hesitantly, she let go of Danol, but not before he gave a reassuring squeeze. Peter led her toward the dreaded door. Mary walked slowly toward her friend. Funny how she thought of Meg as a friend so firmly now when she’d barely known her a few days before. Peter let her go ahead, guiding her to the side of the makeshift bed. Mary saw Meg’s sweet smile and put her two palms to her own face and started to cry. She felt Peter give her shoulders a reassuring pat.
“Mary Ro, why are you crying?” Meg’s voice was thick.
“Oh Meg, I’m so sorry,” Mary said.
“Mary, I’m going to be fine,” Meg said, lifting her hand to Mary’s face. “Thank you for saving me. Dr. Peter told me that if I had removed the knife, he wouldn’t have been able to help me. And I told him it was you who kept me from doing that. I trusted you, Mary. And you saved me.”
“If you hadn’t been here with me, Meg, you wouldn’t be hurt.”
“That’s what friends are for, Mary. And you’re my friend.”
She stated it simply, and then her eyes closed as she drifted off to sleep. Her mother had put a set of rosary beads in Meg’s hand. Meg’s mother and father looked at her and smiled. They didn’t blame Mary either. Her mother nodded as if to reassure her Meg would get better.
“I want to sit with her—if you don’t mind?” she asked hesitantly to Meg’s parents and then to Peter.
“It’s fine with me,” Peter said and brought in her chair and set it beside his. He left while Mary was getting settled and brought back some tea to Meg’s parents. Mr. and Mrs. Dalton thanked him and left with the teacups to speak to friends and neighbours in the kitchen. They were confident that their daughter would make a full recovery.
Richard came in and gently placed his hand on Meg’s shoulder. He stared at her as if it were just the two of them in the room. The young man was clearly exhausted with worry. Peter didn’t know what Mr. and Mrs. Dalton would think of Richard’s obvious feelings for Meg, but for now, at least, there was no tension.
Peter and Mary sat in silence. Both stared at the young girl who had been too near death for comfort. Peter reached for her hand, and she reluctantly put her palm in his. Neither spoke. Since speaking with Meg, Mary somehow felt encouraged that her friend would pull through.
“Will she live? Really, Peter? Don’t lie to me.”
“Yes, Mary. We may have to worry about infection, but she’s a fighter and won’t give up.”
“That’s Meg, all right. Thank you, Peter, for saving her. She’s my friend.” Peter didn’t know that Mary didn’t let too many people in, but she had let Meg in. To lose her now would kill Mary’s soul.
Peter squeezed her hand, and they sat in silence until Meg’s parents returned. Mrs. Dalton told Mary that “the man” was asking for her. Mary knew “the man” was Danol. Without thinking, she pressed Peter’s hand again before heading to the kitchen.
Danol had managed to sit himself up on the daybed. “I was worried about you. Are you okay? Did Pearce hurt you? My head was foggy, and I wasn’t sure what was real and what I had made up.”
“Who is Pearce?” Mary asked. “There was no Pearce here.”
“Was there a man with a gun?”
“Yes.”
“That was Sherman Pearce. I followed him from New York.”
“He told everyone here that he was Harold Bolt.”
“Where is he? Mary, he is a very dangerous man.” Danol was talking to her as if nobody else was in the room.
“I shot him, Danol. The doctor is with him at the church.”
“How? Mary, where did you get the gun?”
“Not now, Danol. Meg has been stabbed and is in the next room.”
“Meg. My God, Me
g. How is she?”
“I think she’ll get better, Danol. We will know more in the morning.”
Carla interrupted and told them that news had come from the church. Bolt, or Pearce—whatever his name was—had survived. The constables had him in custody in Mrs. Ange’s storage room until he was well enough to travel. Some of the neighbours set up a few crates and barrels to make him a bed. He wouldn’t be comfortable, but he’d live.
“Dr. Parker successfully removed the bullet. Then several townspeople reluctantly pulled Mr. Davis off him. Mr. Davis was ready to kill the man and almost tore him apart.”
Carla told them that the constables also had Mr. Davis under watch, although he promised to stay with his daughters. A few men were keeping watch on the door so that Bolt, or Pearce, couldn’t get out. Not that he was in any shape to go anywhere. Nonetheless, he was in chains in the storage room with no windows, and someone was on guard.
“Mary, the constables want to speak to your friend as soon as he is able.”
“Carla, this is Danol, Danol Cooper.” She introduced Danol to the folks in the room. “He saved our lives today. Once Danol is finished with the constables, we’ll be sure that you all know what’s happening and why. For now, Danol needs a bit more rest.”
“I’ll make a bed for him upstairs,” Carla said. “Danol, do you think you can climb the steps?” Danol nodded. It had been more days than he could remember since he slept in a bed, and this room was overcrowded. “We’ll try to get some clothes for you, too, for the morning.”
“I’ll be fine,” Danol replied, although he had been in the same clothes for days and would welcome something clean.
Carla and Mary helped him up the stairs. He was really tired by the time he got to the top and across the hall, but he managed to undress and get under the quilts once they left the room. Sleep was instant.
At the bottom of the stairs, Carla told Mary that she and Brian would be staying for a few days until things got settled. Carla’s sister had the children and would keep them away from all the commotion. Mary said she would be grateful for the company and then returned to her vigil on the chair next to Peter.
Mary wondered where she was. Her back was stiff, and she was leaning on something firm but warm. Her lids fluttered, and it took a moment to register that she had been asleep on Peter’s shoulder. How long had she been like this? The sun was streaming in through the front room window curtains.
Straightening quickly on the chair, she glanced at Peter. She was self-conscious and uneasy with their closeness. He smiled at her—his beautiful smile. It was only she and Peter in the room with Meg, who slept soundly.
“How is she?” Mary asked, trying to distance herself from their intimacy.
“She was alert for a bit this morning but wouldn’t let us wake you. And she told her parents to go home to get some rest. They only went as far as the kitchen, though, but Meg doesn’t know that. Richard has been in and out a few times.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Not long,” Peter replied. “But I didn’t mind.”
Mary blushed. “I’m sorry, Peter. I should have been more watchful.”
“Don’t worry, Mary. You were exhausted and needed the rest,” Peter said. “You should go get something to eat. Brian has eggs frying this morning.” He had loved feeling her sleeping, leaning against him, but couldn’t tell her that—yet.
Mary was hungry. But she also remembered that her dress was ragged and dirty. She took the stairs two at a time to her bedroom, intending to quickly change before going down again. She grabbed her pale green dress and pulled it on over her head, crossing the hall to where she kept the washstand. The water must be a few days old by now but would have to do. But, to her surprise, somebody had changed the water in the pan and put her rose-scented soap on the stand. She quickly tended to her needs and hastily threw her hair into a bun.
At the top of the stairs, she remembered that Danol was at the other end of the hall in her parents’ old room. As she looked across the hall, she saw the closed door and hoped his sleep was allowing him to heal.
Peter was staring up at her when she turned her attention to go down the stairs. He paused as their eyes met. He continued on into the kitchen without saying a word.
The kitchen was full of family and neighbours. Peter was standing near the door. The two constables were eating breakfast, sitting side by side on the daybed. Both constables, one light and one dark, rose to let her sit, but Mary told them to stay put and took a seat on top of the woodbox. Brian served up a plate of eggs and toast, and Carla made her a cup of tea. Mary, starved, fell on her breakfast. She had eaten very little in the last few days. The heat from the stove warmed her bones and brought her a little comfort to start the day.
“Mary, the constables are here for Danol,” Brian whispered. “I invited them to have breakfast so I could have time to speak to you. Is Danol going to be trouble in all this? I’m only asking because there’s a lot of people here.”
“I don’t think so. He seemed willing to speak to them a few days ago before all this mess happened. Do you want to go get him? He is up in Mom and Da’s room.”
“All right, I’ll fetch him. Carla brought some clothes, and I’ll take up a towel and pan of water.”
Carla prepared the pan, using the rose-scented soap since it was all Mary had in the house. Brian took the supplies and made his way upstairs. She heard a knock and then muffled conversation before Brian’s footsteps creaked on the stairs.
“Gentlemen,” he addressed the constables, “Danol will be down shortly, when he has a chance to clean himself up.”
The constables thanked him and continued with their meal. Brian met Carla at the woodbox and told Mary of Danol’s condition. Peter listened from the doorway.
“He looks pretty good this morning, but he says he still doesn’t have his strength back. He’ll get dressed and will be down shortly. He asked about you and Meg, and I told him that all was well.”
Brian paused, then moved closer to his sister. “Mary, were you here with this man by yourself? Did he hurt you or try to interfere with you in any way?”
“No, Brian, he didn’t hurt me,” Mary answered. “I found him in the shed, and there was a lot of blood. He asked me not to tell anyone he was here, so I kept him in the kitchen, and Meg stayed with me. I don’t think he would harm anyone. If I thought that, I would have told you.” Mary explained that Danol had even risked his life to search for her.
“That’s good, Mary. If he or anyone else tries to hurt you,” Brian said, glancing at Peter, “I’ll kill them.”
“Simmer down, Brian. You’re not my keeper, and I can look after myself.”
“I know, Mary. But I am your older brother, and I will look out for your interests.”
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, they turned as Danol entered the kitchen. His hair was wet, and there was quite a bit of stubble on his ashen face, but he looked refreshed. The shirt he wore was slightly too big, and the pants were so baggy he had used the belt from his own pants to keep them up. Mary didn’t know where they got the clothes, but it must be from a very big man. The constables stood up as soon as he entered the kitchen.
“I’m Constable Jeffries. This is Constable Barnes,” the blond-haired officer said, extending his hand to offer a handshake. He motioned to the other uniformed man, who extended his hand as well.
Danol firmly shook their hands. “I heard you wanted to speak with me.”
“That’s correct. If you don’t mind, we could step outside,” Constable Jeffries said.
Mary spoke up. “Danol should really eat something first.”
Peter endorsed her suggestion. “Yes, he really should eat.”
Both officers acquiesced, saying they would wait outside until Danol was ready. Brian reluctantly pushed a plate of toast and eggs in front of him. Carla prepare
d a cup of tea, leading Danol to the daybed just vacated by the constables.
Mary left her seat on the woodbox with her cup of tea and sat next to Danol. “How are you this morning? Did you get a good sleep?”
“It seems that all I have been doing is sleeping. So yes. My head’s a bit foggy and the lump hurts like h—hurts bad. How is Meg? Your brother said she would be all right. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I spoke to her last night. She’s a spirited girl. She’ll stay here for a few days before being brought back to her parents to fully recover.”
“Good news. I guess your doctor friend helped.”
“Yes, Peter surely saved her,” she said, glancing at Peter. “He worked on her all evening. She lost a lot of blood, but there’s no long-term damage. I was so worried.”
“I know you were. I’m glad this is finally getting resolved.”
Danol shifted his attention to Peter. “Good work, Doctor.” Peter nodded his acceptance of the compliment. They eyed each other warily.
Danol finished breakfast in short order, thanked Brian and Carla, and got up to go meet the constables. Carla followed him to the porch.
“You’ll need a coat. It’s damp and chilly out there, and you’re still weak,” she said, taking Brian’s jacket from the nail and helping Danol get his good arm through first. Although the coat was big on Brian, it was a little tight on Danol. He tried to twist his arm, but it was no use. Carla draped the coat over his shoulder instead.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he said, smiling at Carla.
“Don’t you be bothering her,” she warned. Danol knew exactly what she meant.
“Don’t worry. I won’t. She saved me twice,” he replied before going out the door.
Mary saw Danol lean on the fence and talk to the two officers. Then they walked out the lane and, Mary assumed, to Mrs. Ange’s. He was gone for most of the morning, and she was sure he must be cold and tired, and his arm probably hurt. She checked on Meg several times. It gave her some solace knowing Meg was in good hands with Peter. It also gave her more time around Peter.
Being Mary Ro Page 13