“Please, Emma, please be okay,” he continued to whisper, his hand trembling. His mind could think of nothing but Emma, not even Eliza’s presence could shake him from admitting his fear for the woman he’d grown to care so much about.
The doctor came in and examined the cut on Emma’s head at once, instructing Eliza to help him clean the wound. Thatcher was pushed to the background to watch helplessly as fear threatened to take him.
“How did this happen, Thatcher?” Eliza asked, still focused on Emma’s bleeding head.
“She…I don’t know…she…I saw her…” He attempted to explain, but not even his own mind could make sense of what had taken place.
The doctor seemed to understand Thatcher’s shock and took over, having already received the explanation from someone else. “Her foot was caught in the stirrup of her spooked horse, and she was dragged for fifty feet ’til Thatcher here managed to stop it.”
Eliza gasped and Thatcher’s heart twisted in pain to hear the account told out loud. It had actually happened. It was real.
“How did you get to her so fast, Thatcher?” Eliza asked, tears spilling from her eyes as she continued to work alongside the doctor.
“I…I just saw her ride out of town…When her horse reared all of a sudden, I knew she was in trouble…” It was all he could manage to get out.
The blood continued to spill from Emma’s head, and Thatcher couldn’t take it any longer. The sense of helplessness he felt caused the muscles in his neck to twitch.
“Thatcher?” he heard Eliza say. “Will you fetch Seth and tell him what’s happened?”
Thatcher nodded, relieved to help somehow, but looked hesitantly towards Emma’s unconscious form. How could he possibly leave her when she was in such a state?
“I promise that nothin’…nothin’ is goin’ to happen,” Eliza said, nodding her head to Thatcher with wary eyes.
He left then, and with one final glance towards Emma, he made his way out of the small room, all the while trying to force the fear of losing the beautiful woman away from his mind.
***
The day dragged on for the Marchant and Deakon families. Seth had immediately returned to the Inn with Thatcher once he’d heard the news, but James stayed behind, sending his prayers with them. The men arrived with the doctor still hovering over Emma. He had thoroughly stitched up various cuts for over an hour and then wrapped her ankle that was, thankfully, only sprained. Afterwards, he remained nearby, checking in on Emma every half hour or so until after the sun had set, finally announcing that she would be fine.
“I was able to get the stitches on her head done quick enough to stop the bleedin’,” Doctor Symes said to Seth, Eliza, and Thatcher, “but she still lost a lot of blood. She’ll be weak for quite a few days and will need to stay off that ankle of hers for some time, I think, if she wants it to heal just right.”
Eliza nodded, but Thatcher could only stare at the ground, relief flooding his soul. Seth thanked him, saying, “We appreciate you comin’ and stayin’, Doc.”
Doctor Symes waved a hand across his face. “Y’all should be thankin’ Thatcher here,” he said. “If he hadn’t have gotten to her so quickly, she would’ve been in a far worse state.”
Thatcher shook his head, uncomfortable with the attention. He hadn’t saved her. He was the one who had almost caused her death by not getting there fast enough.
The doctor asked to speak to Eliza and Seth, so Thatcher had the opportunity to be with Emma alone for a few moments. He sat down on the chair that was pulled up beside her bed and placed his fingers gently over her scratched hand.
The light from the glowing oil lamp showed each bruise and cut that had penetrated her once perfect skin, and guilt shook Thatcher’s soul, as he knew it was his fault for her pain, her near death experience. If only he had been able to get there sooner.
His thoughts returned to before when he had seen Emma walk out of the inn and mount her horse without a single glance up. He had been standing outside of the mercantile talking with Mr. Garth when she left town, but she looked so completely preoccupied in her thoughts that she must not have seen anyone.
If only he had said something to her, called her name, anything to have stopped her. But no, he had to let his fear of getting too close to her get in the way.
His stomach churned as he thought of her lifeless body being dragged behind the spooked mare. The fear he had felt for her was excruciating.
“Thatcher?” Eliza peeked her head in the doorway, and he looked over his shoulder. “When you’re done, there’s a late supper on the table. You’re more than welcome to stay for it. Doc Symes says she won’t be wakin’ up for a while yet, so whenever you’re ready.”
Thatcher nodded his head and turned back to Emma. “Thank you, Mrs. Marchant. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Eliza nodded her head and, with a soft smile, left the man alone with Emma.
Thatcher hated to leave Emma, but he knew Eliza and the Doctor were right.
He stood, tucking a strand of hair behind Emma’s ear, the one spot on her body that seemed to have remained unharmed. “I’m sorry, Emma.” He bent down to her ear and whispered, “Forgive me.”
Thatcher kissed his fingers and brushed them over her chapped lips. “Sleep well, darlin’,” he whispered, and with one last look at the beaten girl, he walked out of the room.
***
Emma winced as the light entered in through the window, touching her closed eyelids. Disoriented, she blinked a few times, trying to dispel the sudden pounding in her head. Finally managing to keep her eyes open, she saw the blue quilt spread across her legs. She was in her room. But how did she get there? The grogginess she felt led her to believe that she’d been there for some time.
Her headache distracted her only slightly from the pain she was experiencing throughout the rest of her body, the soft mattress and feather pillow doing little to ease her aching. She shifted her sore muscles only to feel an instant throbbing in her ankle.
Flashes of a snake and horse hooves pounding across dirt came vividly into her mind, and all at once her memory returned. How in the world had she survived? Who had come to her rescue? A deep voice echoed in her mind, but she shook the thought away, knowing it wasn’t even a possibility.
Emma tried to call out for Eliza, but no sound escaped her mouth, feeling like she had just swallowed a cup of sand. Exhaling heavily, she brushed a stray hair from her eyes and winced as she touched the sensitive area on her right temple. She felt the stitches and swelling and was again astounded at her survival.
Soon, soft footsteps could be heard down the hall, and Emma was relieved to see Eliza peek her head in the doorway. “Emma!” her friend exclaimed, moving fully into the room. “You’re awake! We’ve all been worried to death!”
Her loud voice reverberated between Emma’s eardrums, but the joyful tone was most welcome. Emma tried to smile, but her lips were too chapped to move.
“Just you wait one minute, now, Em,” Eliza said, rushing out of the room and calling from hallway. “I’ll be back in no time!”
Sure enough, moments later Eliza walked in carrying a glass of water. She helped Emma take a few sips and then said, “Now, you just take it easy, you here? Doc Symes says so.”
Emma nodded her head and felt the throbbing cease slightly. “What...what happened?” she whispered. “After I…”
“Well,” Eliza said as she prattled around the room, fluffing Emma’s pillows and straightening the bedspread, “you got dragged behind Spitfire for near fifty feet, is what Thatcher told us. She got spooked by a snake and got all sorts of riled up and—”
“Thatcher?” Emma managed to spurt out. “How would he know what happened?”
“Em,” Eliza said, pausing her flurry, “he was the one who rescued you! If it wasn’t for that man, we’re not sure you’d be here.”
Emma couldn’t believe her ears. Visions flashed through her mind of a man with a dark brown hat hauling her up int
o the safety of his arms, of a soft voice telling her to hold on, calling her sweet names. “But how did he see me?” she asked. “Wasn’t he workin’ with James and Seth?”
“That’s the miracle of it!” Eliza exclaimed, coming to sit on the side of the bed next to Emma. “He was talkin’ with Mr. Garth that day when he saw that horse of yours make out of town like a wolf was at her. Well, bein’ the man that he is, Thatcher just took off right after you, stopped the runaway horse, and pulled you to safety!”
Emma couldn’t help but feel sheer joy inside her heart. It was all too wonderful! The ache in her ankle seemed to lessen a bit.
“Best part is,” Eliza said, a twinkle in her eye, “the man’s hardly left your side since that day. He’s only not here ’cause James needed his help on the finishin’ touches of the house.”
Emma blushed when Eliza winked at her. It couldn’t be true. How terribly wonderful!
Her head began to spin as the excitement got to her, and Eliza must’ve taken notice. After helping her with the cup of water again, Eliza instructed Emma to get some rest, telling her that supper would be ready for her when she woke up.
Not having to be told more than once, Emma’s eyes quickly closed, despite her excitement, and she fell fast asleep, her heart full of gratitude for her life and the man who had saved it.
***
Emma’s recovery came more quickly than even the doctor had hoped. Within a week, she could sit up in bed, stomach more food, and was even able to stay awake for longer intervals of time. Her head still throbbed, as well as her ankle, but the bruises and scratches were already beginning to heal.
With her body recuperating just as well as her mind, Emma could only think of Thatcher and how badly she wished to see him. She needed to thank him for saving her life, for being there to protect her. Yet, the Deakon house still wasn’t finished, and she had not seen either brother for more than a week.
During Emma’s first few days after the accident, James and Thatcher had moved out of the Marchant Inn to cause less work for everyone. Still, Emma wished she had been aware of their departure. How she already missed their smiling faces and jovial natures.
“Don’t worry, Em,” Eliza had said one evening as she helped Emma to her soup, “they said they’ll be visitin’ town often.”
She had nodded and prayed that Eliza was right.
The days dragged on for Emma, the endless hours of mending clothing, reading, and staring out the window becoming tedious. She longed for something else to do, anything but be inside any longer.
One afternoon, as Emma sat in the parlor near the window nearly two weeks after the accident, her foot propped up on a pillow, she placed her stitching down for a moment and pondered the actions of Thatcher once again. She had thought he was upset with her. After all, he had stormed out on her after they’d almost…after they had…after he had almost kissed her. She sighed at the thought and didn’t bother hiding her smile. He had come to her rescue when she needed him most, at the river and with her spooked horse.
She looked to see if the door was shut tightly behind her then reached for the book she had placed on the windowsill to read when she was alone. She opened to the middle of the book and smiled as she saw the pressed purple wildflower still lying in its proper place. She gently caressed the crisp petals, thinking of the man who had given it to her.
The door creaked behind her as it was opened, and she was jolted out of her thoughts, quickly closing the book and putting it back on the windowsill before carrying on with her stitching.
Figuring it was Eliza to come and join her, Emma smiled, but her mind was sent into frenzy when she saw the very object of her thoughts walking through the door instead. She froze, uncertain as to what to do. She hadn’t seen him in so long, it seemed like forever! His hands held his hat so she could see his handsome face, his eyes framed by crow’s feet once again, his chin and jaw covered in a healthy scruff.
“Look who decided to visit, Em!” Eliza said, beaming from ear to ear as she walked in behind Thatcher. She grinned as she looked between Thatcher and Emma.
Emma’s tongue felt swollen, and she was unable to think of anything to say, but as she remembered that day by the river, how comfortable she felt with him, she took a deep breath and tried to relax. “Mr. Deakon, I certainly wasn’t expectin’ to see you today.”
“I apologize, Miss Marchant,” Thatcher said with a grin, “but I just had to come see how you’re doin’.”
Emma could only smile at him. He was so thoughtful, so very perfect.
When no one spoke, Eliza said, “Well, I’ve got a few things to take care of, but don’t leave ’til I talk some more with you, Thatcher.”
He chuckled, a deep rumbling within his chest. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Marchant, I won’t.”
“Good, good.” And with that, Eliza walked out of the door with a ‘you’re welcome’ grin directed towards Emma. Emma returned a grateful smile rather than her usual terrified eyes.
As the door closed, Thatcher took a few steps towards Emma, spurs ringing, and said, “I just can’t tell you how happy I am to see you lookin’ so good, sugar.”
She blushed at his endearment and looked to the floor, listening to the chair squeak as he settled down next to her. “Mr. Deakon—”
She was halted in her speech however as Thatcher placed his finger against her lip. “Now we have an agreement, Emma. And wounded or not, you have to maintain it.”
Thrilled by the twinkle in his brown eyes, Emma nodded her head. “Alright. If you say so.” She winked at him, and he smiled in return, motioning with his hand for her to continue.
“Thatcher,” she started again, “I just can’t thank you enough for what you did for me. I owe my life to you.”
Emma saw the humility in his eyes before he looked to the floor. “Anyone would’ve done it, ma’am.” Emma tried to ignore the hurt she felt by his comment, knowing he hadn’t meant anything by it. But still, she wasn’t anything special? He continued, saying, “I’m just sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”
Special or not, she wouldn’t let this man concern himself further over her. “Sooner? Thatcher, you saved my life from a runaway horse. There was no way you could’ve gotten there any sooner than you did.”
She knew he didn’t believe her, even when he nodded, but she let him change the subject anyway. “I sure am glad to see you lookin’ so good,” he said. “The house is finished now, and all we need is a place for James’s milkin’ cows and hay he just purchased. So, looks like we’ll be havin’ a barn raisin’ come this Saturday.”
Emma smiled and bit her lip. “That’s great news!” In fact, it was wonderful news. The best she’d heard for weeks! She loved barn raisings, the town’s folk all together, the delicious food, the hard work paying off, the dancing!
They smiled at each other, neither speaking, and Emma wondered what he was thinking.
Thatcher looked directly in her eyes, his smile fading and eyebrows turning down. “Emma…I—”
“Alright!” Eliza exclaimed as she walked through the door. “Now I want to hear the news you came with!” She didn’t seem to notice her interruption and plopped down with her swelling belly onto the nearest chair.
Thatcher smiled and turned his body to face both women instead of just Emma. Frustration billowed inside her, but she tried not to let it show, blinking a few times at the floor. She listened to him repeat his news about the barn raising to Eliza, wondering what it was that he had been going to say to her.
“Now isn’t that just about the best thing I’ve heard all day!” Eliza said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll get right over and tell Mama and Papa. They’ll help get the word ’round and make assignments for the women in town to make the food. This is just so excitin’!”
Emma soon rejoined in spirits and conversation, discussing what food they should have and who else could help get the word out to the neighboring farm settlers.
“Well,” Thatcher said, standing f
rom his chair, “I have to get back to helpin’ James. He’ll probably tan my hide for stayin’ so long. I’ll let you two ladies make the plans, if you don’t mind. I’m no good at this stuff.”
Emma watched him walk to the door. “Thank you again, Mr. Deakon,” she said with a smile, “for comin’ over and makin’ sure I was alright.”
He placed his hat on his head and turned around, nodding with a half-smile. “No problem, Miss Marchant.”
Emma blushed and couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. He was so handsome!
He opened the door and with a glance back said, “Now, darlin’, I expect you to be savin’ me a dance come Saturday. So you take care of yourself and get that foot to healin’, or I’ll have to teach you a lesson…again.”
He winked, nodded his goodbye to the women, and rushed out the door before they could respond. Emma saw Eliza eye her suspiciously. “What did he mean by ‘again’?” she asked.
Emma shrugged her shoulders and looked out the window to the trees blowing in the wind. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much, but she just couldn’t help herself. The day was turning out far better than she’d expected!
***
Thatcher rode back to the house with a smile on his face. He had wanted to stay so much longer, but James needed his help more than Emma did at that point. If it was his choice, he’d have stayed all day with Emma, though.
He thought of how good it was to see her smiling and sitting up again but felt sick as the image appeared in his mind of her mangled, bruised body. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for her pain, even after her reassuring words. However, Emma didn’t seem to think the same way, and that helped to lessen his guilt.
He thought of how her beautiful face lit up when he unexpectedly walked through the door, knowing she had been delighted to see him. And he had been more than happy to see her!
A Secret Fire (Western Historical Romance) Page 9