My Heart's Desire

by Wendy Lindstrom

  Nobody was telling Adam anything, and that’s why he couldn’t move away from the door. No matter how many people came and went, he didn’t budge. Not even when Duke’s brothers Kyle and Boyd brought their mother out to wait with the others in the parlor. Not even when Duke groaned, and Radford’s low murmur responded; Adam didn’t move, because if he left that spot then his silent plea to Duke might not be strong enough to reach him.

  The door opened again, and Radford Grayson came out, his face drawn, a fat tear streaking down his left cheek. He wouldn’t cry unless Duke was going to die.

  Adam’s heart cramped and a big, ugly sob burst from his mouth. He hung his head, not even caring that his nose was starting to run. Nothing mattered now. Duke was the only man he’d ever looked up to. Ever loved. The only man who’d ever been nice to him.

  “Come here, son.” Rebecca’s father pulled him into a hug, and Adam sobbed like a five-year-old against the man’s hard chest. All Adam knew of having brothers was from the memories Duke had shared with him. Without Duke’s stories and his advice, Adam would have to guess how to become a decent, honorable man—like the sheriff, his father, his friend.

  “He’ll pull through, Adam. I know my brother, and he won’t let us down.”

  Adam stepped away and wiped his nose on his sleeve, ashamed of his tears. “Sorry I messed up your shirt.”

  Mr. Grayson pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and handed it to him. “I owe you an apology, Adam. Your interest in Rebecca was no reason for me to suspect you of bad intentions.”

  Adam dried his face on the soft cloth. “I should have stayed away like you said, sir.”

  “Rebecca told me what happened when you two met in the gorge.”

  “I didn’t know she would be there.”

  “I know. I judged you unfairly. You’re an intelligent, courageous young man, and today your quick thinking protected our family.”

  Adam shook his head. “You did that, sir.”

  “No, Adam. If you hadn’t done what you did, my brother could be dead.” Mr. Grayson gripped Adam’s shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “Thank you.”

  As soon as Faith got Cora put to bed, she hurried to her bedchamber to check on Duke. Adam was sitting in the hall with his head against the wall, sound asleep. He hadn’t budged from the spot since Duke was carried into the bedchamber twelve hours earlier.

  Faith squelched her urge to kiss her brother’s forehead as she’d done so many times when he was a round-cheeked baby, but Adam was more man than boy now, and her fussing would embarrass him. She would wake him so he could see Duke, but first, she needed to see her husband alone.

  Duke was sleeping when she entered the room. Dr. Milton said he was doing as well as could be expected, but Faith understood too much about wounds to feel comforted. Duke’s face was drawn and white as the pillowcase. The sheet and blankets were drawn up to his chest, leaving his shoulders exposed. A bulky bandage covered his left shoulder, and she gave thanks that the bullet hadn’t hit his chest and struck his loving, forgiving heart. His mother and Kyle were with him in the room, but they stepped outside with the doctor as Faith entered.

  She laid her palm on her husband’s hot forehead. He had a long struggle ahead of him. He’d lost a lot of blood and was subject to infection and fever and a host of other things. Her stomach twisted in a knot of worry.

  He opened his eyes, but they were glassy and didn’t focus.

  “You know what I noticed about you the night of the lawn party when we were dancing?” she asked, clasping his right hand with both of hers. “That your voice was as deep and smooth as that cello in Damon’s band, that every word you speak is music to my ears.” She brought his hand to her chest, hugging it, wishing she could hug him. “I would love it if you’d talk to me.”

  She waited for the musical sound of his voice, but only his lashes twitched. The doctor had given him a large dose of laudanum to blunt his pain.

  “I want to grow old with you, Duke. I want to spend my life loving you.” She kissed his lips and stroked his cheek, willing his glazed eyes to see her. “My husband, my lover, my friend—I need you.”

  She lowered her cheek to his chest, listening to his heartbeat, praying it would grow stronger each hour. She hoped his sigh meant he heard her. If this was their final exchange, she wanted the last words he heard to be, “I love you, Duke.”

  An hour later, she was bathing his face when he woke, groaning in pain. The doctor tried to give him more laudanum, but Duke turned away. “I need to see Adam,” he said, his voice grating and weak.

  Faith hurried to the hall and woke her brother with a gentle shake. He jerked awake and stared at her with round, fearful eyes. “Duke wants to see you,” she said.

  His eyes lit with hope. “He’s awake?”

  She nodded, and he scrambled to his feet and slipped into the bedroom. Faith stood aside with the doctor while Adam made his way to the bed.

  Duke grimaced in pain as he manipulated his good arm from beneath the covers. He gripped Adam’s hand and tugged until Adam was sitting on the mattress beside him. “I understand you’ve been waiting to see me,” he said, sounding more alert but also in more pain.

  “Yes, sir.” Adam lowered his chin, but Faith could see his throat working, and she knew he was crying. “I saw the gun in Stone’s hand, and I wanted to warn you, but I couldn’t get the words out.”

  Duke hooked his hand behind Adam’s neck and pulled the boy into a one-armed hug. Emotion clogged Faith’s throat. So that’s why Adam had needed to see Duke; he needed Duke’s manly shoulder and his forgiveness.

  “I saw the gun too, son.”

  Adam sat up, his face wet. “You knew Stone had it?”

  “Yes. And I knew he’d try to shoot me, but I wanted to get that revolver away from him before he could hurt someone else. I knew the risk, and I took it. You did everything right, Adam. Without your help, Cora and I might not be here. You did exactly what I told you to do, and that means a lot.”

  “I wish I could have got Cora away before Stone grabbed her.”

  “And I wish I could have wrestled that revolver away from Stone before he shot me or pointed it at your sister’s head. We both did the best we could.” Duke sighed then winced, and Faith could see the effort it took him just to talk. “I need a favor,” he said.

  “Yes, sir. Anything you want.”

  “Stop sleeping in the hall.” Duke gave him a man-to-man wink. “Sleep with Cora, so she won’t be so afraid, and help Faith take care of things while I’m healing this shoulder.”

  “Yes, sir.” Adam slid off the bed. “Your brother, Mr. Grayson, I mean, Rebecca’s father, asked me to help out at the mill while you’re healing. But don’t worry, I’ll chop our firewood and take care of everything here, too.”

  Surprise crossed Duke’s face, and he looked at Faith.

  She shrugged. “Radford was persuasive.” And kind.

  “Good.” Duke’s jaw clamped, and Faith nodded for Adam to leave the room. She sensed they were all at peace now, that whatever weight Adam had been carrying on his shoulders was relieved by Duke’s hug.

  After Adam left, the doctor moved to the bed where Duke lay with his jaw clenched and his eyes closed. “How about that laudanum now?” the doctor suggested.

  “Make it a double,” Duke said without opening his eyes. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and a deep scowl drew his dark eyebrows low.

  Dr. Milton gave Duke the laudanum then went home to get some rest after a long afternoon and evening of doctoring.

  And Faith’s fear mounted. For all her early complaints about the doctor’s arrogance, he knew far more about surgery and infection than Faith did, and she longed for his steadying presence.

  Duke’s mother was a pillar of strength—and also fear and doubt. She helped Faith straighten the room and carry in fresh water then she sat on the bed and wiped a cold cloth over Duke’s hot forehead. Her hand shook and her jaw trembled, and she crumbled like a
mud wall in a rainstorm. “Oh, honey... I can’t lose you.” She buried her face against her son’s chest and wept, clutching his blood-speckled nightshirt in her fist.

  Faith clamped her hand over her mouth to hold back her emphatic sob. She couldn’t bear to lose him either. After all the true and honest things she’d failed to do, Duke had given her and her family everything.

  Possibly his life.

  And if he died, how could she live without him, without his love and passion that illuminated her life? She would live in darkness. But she would owe it to him to go on.

  She choked back her tears and tightened her resolve. She would nurse him back to health. She would apply everything she’d ever learned in those books she’d read. She would not give up.

  She spent frantic hours mixing herbal remedies to keep Duke’s temperature down. Her aunts helped and offered advice, but his body grew warmer through the night and was burning by morning.

  “What does the fever mean?” Boyd asked, his voice hoarse from talking all night. He’d sat at Duke’s side, rambling about their childhood, and the mill, and anything that might allow Duke to hear his voice.

  “I don’t know,” Faith said. It could mean anything, including the onset of infection, but it was too soon to tell.

  Radford came later that morning to take his turn at Duke’s bedside, and Faith learned about the brothers and their lives as mischievous boys and struggling young men. She saw them as Duke’s friends and his strength. And she saw that without him they were incomplete.

  Duke’s mother pulled herself together and stayed at Faith’s side, lending her strength as they nursed Duke through another day and night of a fever that wasn’t breaking.

  Another night passed, and this time Kyle kept Duke and Faith company, his low voice soothing and reassuring as he talked into the wee hours of the morning.

  And Faith lost track of time.

  Evelyn and Claire and Amelia took turns stopping to see Duke and to offer Faith and their mother-in-law a helping hand. Even Anna and Millie stopped to offer their help. The house was full of people cleaning and cooking and lending a hand when needed, but there was nothing they could do for Duke but add their prayers to Faith’s.

  Cora had settled down and was sleeping in her own bed now that Adam was staying with her. It allowed Faith more time with Duke, but nothing seemed to be helping him. Dr. Milton stayed nearly around the clock, wearing a worried scowl that filled her stomach with dread. They cleaned Duke’s wound and sponged his body and did everything possible to give him comfort and help him survive. His brothers pushed him to fight, cajoling then demanding then one by one they would break down and bury their face in their hands and beg him to wake up.

  As the days turned into a week then stretched toward two, an ominous hush filled the house. The only sounds were whispered prayers and the unceasing murmur of his brothers’ hoarse, exhausted voices as they sat at his bedside.

  Duke mumbled and groaned and thrashed in restless fits, his big brawny body struggling against the fevers but shrinking with their heat. Then he would lie so still that Faith’s heart would stop and she would check to see if he was still breathing. By the end of the twelfth night, the whole family was hollow-eyed and exhausted.

  Faith sat in a chair with her head and arms resting on the bed beside Duke. Radford sat on the other side of him talking to Duke about some sort of dungeon they had dug in the field when they were boys.

  “Boyd was our robber-prisoner, and you were the guard,” he said.

  Faith smiled. Of course Duke was the lawman. He would never be the bad guy.

  She fell asleep to the sound of Radford’s hoarse voice, and woke to the feel of someone’s hand stroking her hair. Thinking it was one of her aunts, Faith wearily lifted her head and found herself looking into Duke’s dark eyes.

  “I’m starving,” he said.

  She blinked, thinking her sleep-deprived brain was playing tricks on her, but it really was Duke stroking her hair.

  “I want a dozen eggs. A loaf of toasted bread...” He paused, out of breath, his poor body ravaged and weak.

  Shock silenced her, but Radford laughed with relief and shot to his feet. “It’s about time you woke up. I was running out of stories.”

  “Skip the stories. I want food.”

  “I’ll go raid the kitchen for you,” Radford said, wearing a wide smile as he left the room.

  Stunned, almost afraid to move for fear she’d wake up and find she’d been dreaming, Faith pressed her palm to her husband’s surprisingly cool forehead, her gaze roving his face, looking into the dark eyes that she’d feared she would never see again. His fever had finally broken! “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  He glanced at the window where weak winter daylight touched the pane. “How long have I been in bed?”

  “Nearly two weeks.”

  He closed his eyes. “I thought I would do better.”

  She laughed at his absurd comment. “Only a man would say something so foolish.” She sat beside him and cradled his drawn, whisker-covered face in her palms. “I missed you.”

  He slid his right hand up her forearm, his eyes dark and questioning. “Did I dream that you said you love me?”

  “I said it and I mean it.” She kissed his forehead, thankful it was only warm and not burning hot. “I love you for treating Adam with fairness. I love you for being kind to Cora, and giving her the daddy she needs. I love you for showing me a world I’ve never known. I love you for forgiving my lies, for defending my family, and for surviving that nasty gunshot.”

  Her throat jammed with emotion, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He smelled of balm and the herbs she’d used to ease his discomfort and bring his fever down.

  “I was afraid I dreamed that,” he said hoarsely.

  “You weren’t dreaming. I love you.”

  “Then feed me. My belly button is touching my spine.”

  She smiled and sat up. “I’m afraid you’ll have to start with chicken broth instead of eggs.” She leaned down and kissed him. His lips were chapped, but their light, warm touch against her mouth comforted her. He was alive. Their nightmare was over. And he knew she loved him.

  He turned his face away. “I must stink.”

  “Not at all. We’ve taken good care of you.” She sat back. “You’ve had a sponge bath every day.”

  “Not from Iris, I hope.”

  She laughed. “Only twice. We all took turns. Even Patrick and Cyrus helped.”

  His laugh was weak but so encouraging. “I can imagine the rumors going around the mill.”

  “Your reputation is shot.”

  “I don’t mind. Trying to be faultless doesn’t... leave much time for living... and loving.”

  “Then get better so we can do that.” She linked her fingers with his. “Our house is full of people waiting to see you.”

  “Let ‘em wait.” He tugged her hand, and in the sweetness of his chaste, tender kiss, her heart turned over with love and gratitude that he had held on. For Cora and Adam, for his family, and most of all, for her.

  Chapter Forty

  Duke was standing up gripping the bedpost when Faith walked into the room carrying a steaming bowl of who-knew-what in her arms. She stopped and gaped at him.

  “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I’m escaping.”

  She arched her shapely eyebrow. “You’re going to fall and undo all my hard work.”

  “I can’t take any more of your torture,” he said, only half-joking. “I’ll do anything if you’ll let me out of here.”

  She smiled and set the bowl on the bed stand. “Get back in bed, darling, or I’ll send for your brothers.”

  “They’re traitors. They’ve deserted me.”

  “They come to see you every evening after they finish work.”

  “I’m going mad lying in bed around the clock. I need to get back on my feet.”

  “You will. When you’ve healed a little more
and your strength returns. Now get in bed.”

  He eyed the green and brown stuff floating in the bowl with suspicion. “I’m not drinking that.”

  Her laugh rang through the room and she embraced him. “You don’t have to. I’m making a poultice from birch leaves and bark to put on your shoulder.”

  “I don’t need it. You’re my best medicine.” He kissed her, liking the way her eyes sparkled with concern.

  “Please get in bed.”

  Her soft plea, and his quaking legs, drove him back to the bed he’d been living in for three weeks. Faith sat beside him and dunked a cheesecloth in the bowl of steaming water.

  “Adam and your brothers are taking care of all the chores, so you can relax.” She unbuttoned the nightshirt he’d come to loathe, and pulled it over his shoulder. “This might hurt a bit.”

  It all hurt. The concoctions she put on him; shuffling to the water closet; it even hurt to breathe.

  She gently wrung the cloth, filled it with leaves, and folded it into a dripping square pad. “Your wound is turning a nice healthy pink,” she said, laying the warm cloth over his shoulder.

  He sucked in his breath, knowing her concoctions were helping, but hating the constant assault on his shoulder. Exhausted, he flopped his head back against the pillow, as annoyed as he was reassured by her constant tending. “You’re turning me into an invalid.”

  “The gunshot to your shoulder did that.” She dried her hands on her apron. “If you don’t stay in bed and rest, who will Cora play with?”

  While Duke had seen little of Adam, because the boy was happily filling in as the man of the house, little Cora had been his constant companion, sitting on his bed “reading” to him from her favorite books.

  “Just promise me you’ll share our bed again soon,” he said.