“I was here when it happened, with Calder. We were at my mom’s place.”
“Calder is here? And Wilda? Oh, Grady, I need to see her. Where is she?”
“She’s out at Fairhaven. Mrs. Captain, you need to sit down. Calder has gone to fetch her. She will be here soon.”
He supported her to a nearby chair. “He’ll be okay. The wheels ran over his leg. They may have to set it, but the captain is tough. You’ll see.”
Numbly, she nodded. Concentrate on something else, anything but the horrid possibility of his death. “Why do you call him Captain?” She cleared her throat when the last word caught there.
“That was his rank in les Zouaves. He fought with one of the finest military units in the world. A brave man, who deserves our respect.”
She wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “Thank you for being his friend, Grady.”
“You gonna be okay? I have to go. Me and Calder have something to do. He’ll bring Wilda here soon as he can. Now, don’t you fret none. Our Captain is strong. He’ll be fine.”
She nodded, afraid to ask what kind of business Grady could possibly have with an outlaw who also happened to be her brother-in-law. Still, it would be so good to see Wilda.
“Would you make sure they do not leave until I get to see my sister?”
Grady stopped in the doorway. “I’ll try my best. I’ll be around when you need to return to Fairhaven.”
“I’ll be staying here until Blair can go with me.”
“Then I’ll be back.” He nodded and left.
She rose and stood at the window until he came out onto the street and headed up the boardwalk. Then she went to sit in the chair nearest the door to the room where Blair lay.
****
Blair drifted in and out of consciousness and tried to piece together what was going on. Someone held his hand, said his name, kissed him. In lucid moments he remembered kissing Rowena in the middle of the street. Recalled bits and pieces from their night at the Manor. Their honeymoon? Surely he was mistaken about that. Then he would drift away to an ugly, dark place. A place that stole his life from him, taking gritty bits and pieces in a great, yawing mouth then spitting them back in his face. Once he awoke to a room so dark he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or shut. His leg hurt, and he was dizzy when he moved.
How in God’s name had he come to be here? And where was here?
He wanted to ask the person who held his hand, but he couldn’t get his tongue to work.
“Lie still, Blair,” she said, and once more kissed his cheek.
Rowena. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and ran into his ears. Why was he crying? He was a man, a soldier. A killer. Killers did not cry, did they?
“Il m`a appelé un trublion,” he murmured.
The next time he awoke, sunlight lay in a patch across the foot of the bed, warming his aching leg. He felt much better, and he could see everything in the room without being disoriented, though his leg hurt like all bloody hell. And when his glance finally landed on the woman sleeping in a chair next to his bed, his hand clasped in her lap, he whispered her name.
Her eyes fluttered open and she rose, leaned over him, kissed his forehead, his eyelids, each cheek, then his lips. Amazed, he accepted her kisses with anticipation of where she would touch him next with that incredible mouth. If he could move, he would gather her close and hold her there. She had lovely breasts, peering out at him from the neck of her dress. Glorious hair, wild tendrils escaping from pins that attempted to hold it away from her exquisite face. He could very well be dead, for only angels were so ethereal as she.
“How are you feeling?” She leaned even closer and watched his eyes.
“Like I’m floating. I know this feeling. Morphine.” A husk-dry retort, but words that made sense nevertheless. “Water.” Yet another word. He was getting better at this. And he didn’t appear to be dead.
She poured from a nearby pitcher and pried her fingers from his grip to lift his head from the pillows and hold the glass to his lips.
The water was cool and sweet. He gulped at it, but she cautioned him to slow down, take small sips. “Or else you’ll make yourself sick.”
After he drank, he asked, “Am I ill or wounded?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Why this?” He swung an arm around indicating the bed, the room.
“You had an accident. Two days ago. Don’t you remember?”
He shook his head, then grabbed the sides of the bed to keep from twirling off onto the ceiling. “Dizzy.”
She burst into tears and lay her head on his chest. He patted her back.
“Don’t pat me. It won’t help. Men think all you have to do is pat a woman and she is okay.” She let the words out two and three at a time between sobs.
Only a few of them were understandable, but he patched the sentence together because somewhere, sometime, he’d heard it before. He didn’t want her to cry any more.
“Don’t cry. Please. Accident? Two days ago? But…”
She raised up, contemplated him through glistening eyes. “I was so frightened that you’d been killed.”
Attempted movement shot pain through his leg, and he groaned. “What is wrong with me? I can’t move my legs, I can’t turn over.” He grabbed her arm. “Tell me, Lysette, ma chere.”
“I’m Rowena, your wife. I will get the doctor and let him explain to you.”
“No, tell me now. Good God, am I going to be crippled?”
“Of course not. Well, he doesn’t think so. He’s repaired your leg as best he can. Some of the bones were crushed. Oh, please. He’ll explain it to you. Who is Lysette, ma chère?”
“Well, get him in here then.” No reply to her question. Why had she asked it? He couldn’t patch together what was going on. Not the words, nor his feelings…his scattered thoughts. Oh, God, she was speaking again. Think. Listen.
“Okay, I will. I’ll go find him and bring him. You lie still. Do you need anything?”
You. I need you not to disappear. That, he could not say. Instead, “Not until he comes. Tells me I won’t be a cripple. What in hell happened anyway? I’m hungry and thirsty, but first…”
“Yes, I’m going to get him right this minute. Promise you won’t try to get up.”
“I won’t try to get up. I promise.”
After she slipped through the door, leaving it open, he conjured up the worst news the doctor might bring. Bones crushed in his leg. Struck by a cannon ball. Before. This had happened before. Or was it this time? A hospital in Paris. Pretty Lysette caring for him. If only he could sort things out. So confused. Couldn’t be as bad as getting blown almost half in two. They fixed that, didn’t they? He drifted off, thinking of Lysette, who spoke no English and him only knowing a few words in French. Not the kind you would speak to a sister. Still, she soothed him, took good care of him, helped him want to live. He had wanted to live. But did he still?
She didn’t. Lysette didn’t live. Tears ran into his ears.
Someone touched his shoulder. He opened his eyes, expecting to see that round, sweet face of his nurse. Nurice. Instead, a grizzled old man with thick lips and hairy eyebrows hovered into sight.
“Sir, you wished to speak to me? I’m Doctor Weatherby. Good to see you back among the living.”
“Am I, Doc? Among the living, that is? Where am I?”
“In my surgery.”
Impatient. Angry. “No, no. Where? Paris? Where?”
“No, this is Victoria, Kansas.”
He wrinkled his brow trying to place such a town. “Oh, America?”
“Of course, son, you’re in America, and you’re going to be just fine. It may take time and work on your part, but you will heal.”
“Good to hear. I thought… I mean, the woman who was here before. Where is she? What is her name?”
“Ah, sweet Rowena. Your wife. She hasn’t left your side. Slept in a chair, loves you very much.”
“Wife? I do not… I
cannot… I do not… Why is it I’m so confused?”
“It’s the morphine and opium. Otherwise the pain would be excruciating. How are you feeling except for that? I mean, do you still entertain thoughts of doing away with yourself?”
“Who told you that?”
“I’m your doctor, son. I have to know about your emotional feelings. They can affect the way you heal physically.”
“Surely I did not try to do away with myself.” Blair made to rise on one elbow, but pain shot him down like he’d been hit by a spray of lead balls. “Dear God,” he gasped.
Weatherby laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke to someone in the room Blair hadn’t noticed. “Give him the morphine and a teaspoon of opium, and keep an eye on him till he settles down.”
The tiny round woman appeared in the corner of his vision. He dared not twitch a muscle for fear he’d invite back the agony. She floated into view and offered him a small vial of clear liquid. “Drink this, dear, and you’ll feel better. Don’t worry, it tastes dreadful, but you know what they say.”
He accepted the familiar-tasting medicine. “Tell her not to leave,” he murmured. He’d forgotten how dreadful it tasted, and accepted the water she offered to wash it down. In another hospital, another time and place, he’d been dosed heavily. Nasty tasting it might be, but oh, Lord, how good it made him feel.
The doctor and his pixie companion drifted out of the room, and the woman took their place, capturing his hand once more and settling into the chair near the bed. He fell asleep staring at her beautiful face. He knew her from somewhere, but it was impossible to remember where.
One thing he knew for sure. He did not have a wife.
After Blair feel asleep, and she was assured he would sleep for quite some time, Rowena slipped out of the surgery and ran down the narrow strips of lumber someone had laid along the alleyway leading to the millinery and Madame Smythe’s offices. At the phrenologist’s door, she tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. She hammered on the window with her knuckles. After a while, the robust woman opened the door a crack and peered through.
“Yes, what is it? Can’t you see I’m busy? When the door is locked, one would think clients could presume that I’m closed or busy.”
“Please, help me. Please. I need your help. You have to help him, you just have to. I don’t know what to do.”
Grumbling, Madame Smythe opened the door. “Come in, then. For goodness sake.”
Inside, she studied Rowena, then slapped her hands together. “Ah, I remember you. In love with that man suffering with degeneration of the mind from fighting in the war. Goodness, child, come inside and sit before you pass out. Why, you’re white as a sheet.”
On the other side of the table from where Hildegarde Smythe had seated Rowena sat two men, faces in the shadows.
Mrs. Smythe shoved Rowena’s head down between her knees. “Take some deep breaths, you’ll be all right. Whatever happened?”
“Blair, Lord Prescott. He…” Her words were muffled by the bunched skirts.
“Is the captain coming along all right?” a familiar voice said from across the table.
“Grady, is that you?”
Smythe pushed her head down again.
“Is the captain okay?” the voice repeated urgently.
Rowena sat up, shoving the woman’s hands away. “I’m all right now. Stop that. He is resting right now, from the morphine. I asked her to help him”—she gestured toward Smythe—“but she refused.”
“Not exactly how it happened,” the gruff woman said.
“How exactly do you see it, then?” Anger at the woman was difficult to hide. Confusion followed. “Grady, what are you doing here?”
The other man stood, and light from the window swept across his strong, handsome features. Calder. Calder Raines. “Maybe we’d better finish up this business somewhere else,” he said to Grady.
“Calder?” she squeaked. “Grady told me you were here. Where is Wilda? I thought you were bringing her to see me.”
Grady interrupted. “It’s okay. She won’t say anything. Wait. Let’s get this straightened out about Blair, and then we’ll talk some more. You’re safe here. Right, Mom?”
“Of course, dear. Of course.”
Did he call her Mom? Dear? What was going on here? And why hide an outlaw like Calder Raines? “Where is my sister?” she asked again.
“She’s still out at Fairhaven. I thought that would be best for her while I do my business. As soon as we finish, we will go get her.”
Business. What kind of business could he possibly have here? This was all very confusing, but she didn’t have time to work it out. Blair needed help, and he needed it now. “Grady, if you have any influence over this woman, please ask her to help Blair. I don’t know where else to turn. He had one of his spells, that’s how he got hurt. Someone has to help him. He’s badly hurt because of these episodes.”
Grady came to stand beside her. “What would you have me do? Truss him up and drag him in here?”
“If that’s what it takes. That crazy old doctor wants to send him to an asylum in Kansas City. We can’t let that happen. We can’t.”
Grady patted her shoulder. “Of course not. The captain would be miserable shut up like that. Mom, you have to pay him a visit, see if you can help.”
He did call her Mom. This was Grady’s Mom? But he’s not English.
“I have to get back to Blair. He’s sort of out of it right now, but if you can convince her to visit Fairhaven after he recovers somewhat, I would certainly appreciate it.”
“I’ll try,” Grady told her. “Let me accompany you back to the surgery. The Captain would want me to see after you for him.”
“I know. You are a good friend to both of us.” Still, she could not help wondering what sort of business Grady could have with an outlaw like Calder Raines. And why were Calder and her sister here when Kansas had ejected them?
****
Grady showed up that evening, peeked into the room, and gestured for Rowena to come out. She gently released Blair’s hand, laid it on his chest, and went out, leaving the door ajar.
“How is he?”
“Better. He’s been awake some. Has a lot of pain and anger, but so far both are being controlled. He doesn’t seem to know where he is, but Doc says that’s the morphine. I so want to see Wilda, but I can’t bear to leave him.”
Grady nodded. “I’ve arranged to bring her to town tonight after dark.”
“Thank you so much.” She hugged him, and he flushed. “What’s going on? Why have they taken a chance on coming back to Kansas? And how do you know Calder?”
“He’s my cousin. My mom’s sister’s son. It’s a long story, but they emigrated here when I was a tad, and I came with them because Mom couldn’t keep me at the time. Calder and I grew up together. We had some personal business from a while back, but he’ll have to tell you about that.”
“And your mom is Hildegarde Smythe?”
“Yes.”
“And you cannot tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s probably best you don’t know.”
“Oh, no, Grady. Surely you don’t mean—”
“I won’t tell you what I mean.”
“Whose idea was this? Don’t ruin my sister’s life. She loves that big handsome outlaw, and they have a chance at a better life unless he does something to get in trouble again. Grady, please.”
Grady led her to a chair in the waiting area. “Sit down. Don’t get all upset. This has been hard enough on you, loving the captain like you do, and all. This is not something for you to worry about. Me and Calder, we can take care of it and no one ever the wiser. It’s from a long time ago, something that needed setting straight. It’s done.”
“But—”
He put a finger to his lips. “Shh. I promise I won’t let Calder or Wilda come to harm. They’ll be here and gone in a whipstitch, and no one will be the wiser.”
“You promise?” Her eyes darted toward t
he open door. “He’s awake, I’m going to him.”
“Take care of yourself. You’re looking sort of peaked, and the captain wouldn’t forgive me if I let you come to harm. I’ll bring Wilda after dark.”
“Thank you. Sounds to me like you’ve appointed yourself the caretaker of our family. I’m fine. I’ll rest when he comes home.” She slipped through the door and went to Blair’s side, took his hand, and lowered herself wearily into the chair.
She startled awake when someone touched her shoulder. Wilda stood there.
“Oh, my goodness!” She leaped to her feet and hugged her. “I was afraid I might never see you again.”
“Well, here I am. Is he okay? Can we go out so we won’t disturb him?”
Together they slipped away from the sleeping man. Rowena closed the door this time. “He’s had a heavy dose of morphine and opium, so he’ll probably sleep the entire night.” She grabbed Wilda’s hands and squeezed them. “It’s so good to see you. How are you? Tell me everything that’s been going on with you. Are you sure it’s safe for Calder to be here?”
Wilda sighed and rolled her eyes. “Since when can you tell a man what’s good for him? His cousin summoned, he came. They have some unfinished family business. Grady is bad in love with that sweet girl. And after spending some time with her, can’t say as I blame him.”
“Wait. He’s in love with Lizza?”
Wilda laughed, then covered her mouth. “No, Annie. He’s doing this for her. I’ve tried to find out more, but Calder is close mouthed. Says it’s not something he will get in trouble for. Sorry. But I’d say you’ve got so many stars in your eyes over that man in there you can’t see what’s going on right under your nose. Though I can’t see what you see in him.”
Rowena sank down in one of the chairs. “Did Grady tell you we were married three days ago?”
“No. I guess he left that for you to announce. Oh, my dear. Are you sure this is what you want? He’s so…so mean.”
“He does not have a mean bone in his body. Besides, you should know we don’t chose who we love. He’s not the man you think he is. Well, at least not most of the time. Here, sit. It’s so good to see you. You are beginning to sound like someone born and bred in the west. Now, tell me all about your new life.”
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