He blinked as if she’d slapped him, and ignored her question to say, “I am so sorry, so very sorry that happened to you. How did you make it stop? What did you do?”
“Father Antonio found out what was going on. I’m convinced Wilda told him. Anyway, he made her stop, and she was sent away.” She shrugged. “My point is, I never thought I would find a love like that again. Young love is different, but no less intense. And I love you even more intensely than I did that boy I would not deny, no matter what they did to me. So you see why I will not give you up, no matter what you say?”
Up to that moment, she had held back her tears to tell her story, but she broke when he gathered her into his arms and held her close, kissing her shoulders and throat, anywhere he could reach. She sobbed as if her heart had shattered into a million pieces.
Hands in her hair, brushing it back from her tear-streaked face, he talked to her softly. “I’m so sorry. I thought letting you go would protect you from my madness. I love you but have never believed for a moment that you would stay with me. I’ve lost everyone I ever cared about. Until Simmons I had no one. Then here you were, so beautiful and sweet and loving. I knew it couldn’t last, and so it seemed best to release you. Send you away. Better than waiting till I hurt you. You have to know I would die first, but I do not always know who you are. Nightmares change me. You will leave me. I’m convinced of it.”
Over and over, she shook her head, barely able to say no and no again and again between sobs.
He took her by the shoulders to gaze into her face. “You must stop crying. You’ll make yourself ill. If you truly feel this way, then stay with me. But do be wary, I beg of you. If I ever hurt you, I would die.”
Drawing in deep breaths to control the sobbing, she managed to reply. “If you send me away you will hurt me in the worst way possible. We’ll learn to deal with this together, I promise, and I’m not going anywhere.” She thumped her heart. “I promise from my heart.”
He wrapped her up in his arms and held her till the crying ceased.
A few minutes later Simmons entered on cat feet, stopped when he saw the new bedding arrangements and Rowena naked in Blair’s arms. He asked softly, “Would you like some breakfast? The kitchen is spotless, and a big breakfast has been prepared for all the help. Someone can bring you a tray, if you’d like.”
Blair glanced up at him. “Yes, that would be nice. Very nice. Thank you.”
He continued to comfort her and wiped her tears until Annie arrived with a tray laden with an assortment of food left over from the night before, along with a pot of tea.
At last realizing how she must appear, Rowena blindly groped for her nightgown and put it on. Blair sat up and swung his feet to the floor, keeping the blanket over his lap. He patted the space beside him.
“Sit here. We’ll eat together, and then we can decide what to do about that mess in the study.”
Annie bobbed her head. “Oh, Grady and the boys who came to help with the party are already cleaning it. It sure does stink in there, but perhaps it can be aired out.”
“I’m sure it can. Have them open the windows and close the door so the cold air doesn’t reach the rest of the place.”
Annie brightened, her pretty round face flushed from cooking breakfast. “I can put a pot of cinnamon water over a small fire in the fireplace. That should help refresh it.”
“That would be delightful, Annie.” He cleared his throat and murmured, “Thank you so much. Tell everyone how much I appreciate all they’ve done.”
She bobbed a little curtsy. “I will do that, Lord Prescott. I hope you are feeling better. Everyone is very concerned.”
He flushed, and Rowena said, “He’s much better, thank you, Annie.”
The girl started to leave, then spotted the lovely jade green dress Rowena had worn to the party, now lying in a smoky, damp heap on the floor. “Shall I see what I can do with this?”
“Yes, thank you.”
When the door closed behind her, Blair said, “What a sweet child she is. I’m so happy Grady will marry her. It’s a perfect match, don’t you think?”
Rowena took his hand. “And so are we, my sweet, so are we.”
Chapter Seventeen
Proctor eased the splint off Blair’s leg, held his hands beneath the calf muscle. “Can you lift it?”
Gripping the edge of the exam bed, Blair strained to raise the leg from Proctor’s hands. Muscles in his arms and thighs bulged with the effort, and Rowena strained with him. Allowed in the exam room because Blair insisted, she had promised not to say anything.
Outside the window, snow had begun to fall. It looked like they might have to stay over. There was a room for them at the fort hospital, if they did.
The leg moved just a little, then fell back into Proctor’s hands. Blair tried again, sweat beading on his forehead and a grunt swelling from deep inside his gut.
“That’s enough for now, son.”
“Isn’t it going—?”
“Hsst,” Proctor said, shaking his head at her. “Let him ask his own questions.”
“Isn’t it going…?” Blair glanced at her. “What were you going to ask? I can’t think straight. Is it always going to hurt like this?”
“With time and a lot of exercise on your part, it will begin to work again. I can’t say how much use you’ll regain, and it’s going to be painful, as well. The brace will help, but you’ll have to take it easy. You start running around like some young buck, you’ll do more damage than good.”
Proctor opened a cabinet and removed a leather cuff with buckles. He sat on a stool and fastened the brace snugly around Blair’s lower leg from just below his knee to his ankle.
“There, how does that feel?”
“Odd. Can I stand with it?”
“Not for a while. I want you to keep using the crutches and gradually practice putting weight on that foot, but not all your weight. It’ll let you know when to ease off, believe me.”
Disappointed, Blair gazed at the ugly contraption. “I’d like to stand with the crutches, if you don’t mind.” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his voice.
Proctor handed them to him. “Easy now.”
The damn thing hurt like fury when he slid from the table. The brace must’ve weighed several pounds. Concentrating and breathing through the pain, he put his right foot on the floor. Air spewed through gritted teeth and he saw stars. “Good Lord.”
Foolish of him to have expected to put the thing on and walk away, but he’d so looked forward to getting out of that splint and off the crutches. He kept the disappointment to himself.
“Walk as much as the pain allows, but I can’t stress enough that you don’t put your full weight down for at least another month. And I’d like to see you before you do. Just baby steps.”
“Baby steps,” Blair fumed, rage growing. “May I at least remove it to sleep?”
Proctor nodded. “Oh, yes.”
Drawing in a deep breath, he put the foot down gently, Rowena rubbing his arm. She smelled of lemons and cinnamon, a fragrance so familiar to him that anytime he caught a whiff of either, he thought of her. By now he was aware that when he hurt she suffered. Further, when she suffered he felt ashamed for having caused it.
Hilda said he was doing much better, after only four visits with her. Sometimes he poured out thoughts that had festered so long he marveled they hadn’t made him ill. And in a way, he supposed they had. She rubbed his head, read the signs of who he was and who he could be, and showed little reaction to the ugliness that spewed from his mouth. Since the fire, he’d been doing better. Yet there was no sense in celebrating as yet. He was learning to handle the feelings and share some of them with Rowena. If he could just finally stand on his own two legs and be the man he yearned to be, everything would be perfect.
But on really dark nights, when bloody creatures crept into his nightmares, he feared he would never be whole again. And that it was just a matter of time before the rage that lay cu
rled like a snake, deep inside him, exploded once again.
****
Rowena’s Journal, April 17, 1876
It has been several months since I shared my thoughts on these pages. There have been good times and bad, but we have survived and are both the stronger for it. Blair’s nightmares continue, though not so often. Sometimes I wonder how he can abide them, yet he does. He continues to warn me not to awaken him or get close until I am sure he is awake. Then, if I am so inclined, would I please take him into my arms. He does not need to ask that, as I do it readily, and much more. First I assure him that I love him and that he is safe. If he wishes, we make love, and most of the time he does. He says Doctor Proctor told him it’s the adrenaline from the bad dreams. I simply take him inside me. In spite of his warnings, he is never violent with me.
The episodes themselves have lessened as he learns to control his reaction to the return of his mind to the war. I credit Hilda, as he calls her, for helping him through the worst times, but he says I am as much responsible as she, if not more. We have grown to trust each other completely.
Spring is now upon us, and I pray with all my heart that he will soon be able to ride. I want this for him as much as he does. Yet his leg refuses to heal any further, though he can now walk on it with the leather brace Doctor Proctor applied.
As for me, while he and Grady spend their two hours a day in the exercise room, I am refurbishing our home. Fairhaven was much too dreary and old-fashioned, and Marguerite has helped me choose bright fashionable fabrics for the windows and other décor to brighten it up. Nellie eagerly sews the curtains, drapes, pillow covers and bedding and reluctantly allows me to help where I can. We have many sessions of hilarity over my efforts to stitch neatly, but I enjoy her company.
Tyra and James Lee left for his family’s home in Victoria, Texas, where they plan to begin their own ranch. Annie and Grady will marry next month and move into their chambers here.
Rowena laid down her pen and went to stand at the window of the study. Spring came and went sporadically. Flowers brought from England would have to learn to abide this type of weather. Even as lilac blossoms hung heavy on the young bushes, a snowstorm blew in that built drifts as high as the windows, and the beautiful, fragrant flowers turned brown.
The study had been her first project, and the windows were now hung with soft pastels that let in the light. Once Blair could manage the stairs, they moved to rooms in the west wing, where they could watch the spectacular prairie sunsets from their windows and bask in afternoon sunlight when it existed. Despite his occasional nightmares, she never returned to her own bed chamber, for she would not leave him alone at night.
This morning, a brilliant sun shone and wildflowers peeked bravely out to test the warming wind. She was brought out of her reverie when she heard him coming down the hallway, the peculiar tilt to his gait obvious on the marble floors. He halted in the doorway, dressed for riding, his dark hair a bit shaggy. The time spent with Grady had broadened his shoulder muscles, thickened his chest and upper arms. His smile lit his eyes, and she went to him eagerly for a kiss and a chance to be held close.
“You look wonderful.” She flicked at the open collar, a look that became him, then tugged playfully at a handful of hair. A cut would soon be in order.
“Thank you, love. Going on an errand. Would you like to accompany me?”
“Of course, if you’ll wait until I dress.”
He held her at arm’s length, checked out her pale blue morning attire. “Perhaps you should wear that riding habit we bought last year for Christmas. And boots. You look exquisite, but where we’re going, you’ll need something more suitable to the outdoors.”
“Blair, you’re wearing your riding breeches. Doctor Proctor said… I mean, I’m sorry, but I know how stubborn you can be. We don’t want you hurt again.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I just feel good in this, that’s all. Creates the mood I need for today’s, um, errand.”
She studied him closely, saw no bulge where the brace should be, the breeches hugging his legs to the ankles. He cut her a sharp gaze, so she asked instead, “Where on earth are we going?”
He grinned again. “You talk more like Annie and Grady every day. My western woman.” He pulled her close and kissed her again, this time quite thoroughly, arms tightening to press her so close she felt his hard thigh muscles through the tight pants.
When he finally turned her loose, she drew in a breath. “You keep that up and we’ll be late.”
“Ordinarily I’d say to hell with it, let’s be late. But this is very special. When we return, however, I’d be happy to take you up on the offer.”
“That’s a deal. I’ll go change.”
“Now that is definitely Grady speech.”
Before she reached the top of the stairs he called to Grady to bring around the wagon. Simmons’ voice joined the conversation, and he and Blair laughed about something, she could not hear what.
Odd. They usually took the buggy or carriage. When she came running eagerly back downstairs, in a blue split skirt, white shirt with a bow under her chin, and waist-length jacket, Annie waited with a basket of food, but Simmons had gone on his way. No doubt to check on one of the new young people he had hired to help keep the windows and floors washed.
“I thought since we were going out, we could make a day of it.” Blair’s demeanor was so carefree she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.
How exciting, to be getting out at long last. But if he planned on horseback riding, she would have to do her best to dissuade him. Of course, since they had only the bobtailed ponies, that would not be in his plans. He hated riding them, with his long legs.
He continued chatting. “Annie had fried chicken, and she stuck in some cheese and bread, all sorts of good things, including a container of tea, which she claims is delicious cool with lots of sugar. Never heard of that. Must be an American thing.”
“It’s worth a try. After all, her fried chicken is something we’ve learned to like a lot.”
Altering her pace to suit his, she strolled, him leaning a bit on her. So many times she’d wished he could be rid of that hateful brace. He could walk without it only with the cane or her to lean on. Today he chose her, but she didn’t mind. Not at all. Being by his side, touching him, completed her happiness.
They were halfway across the portico when Grady drove the wagon up, pulled by two bobtailed ponies. “Captain, d’you need me to drive you somewhere?”
“No, not today, Grady. Thank you, though. We may not return till late this evening. You could run that errand for me, though, if you don’t mind.”
Grady saluted and hopped down.
Climbing into the wagon was difficult for him, even with the brace. Today he did his best to show off his ability to do so without the hated leather cuff strapped to his leg. His arm strength had improved over the winter, and he used those muscles to swing himself off the ground and into the seat. Grady gave Rowena a hand up, having learned not to help Blair unless asked. He settled her, then set the picnic basket in the wagon bed behind them and stepped back. Blair threaded the reins through his gloved fingers and slapped them gently on the ponies’ butts.
Rowena laid a hand on his thigh, the muscles quivering under her touch. But she said nothing. He hated to be reminded of what he could no longer do. So she settled for leaning close and nibbling his earlobe.
“That will get you in trouble,” he said, and mimicked a shiver that set her to laughing.
Something was going on today, something special, and he was enjoying it. She could hardly wait to find out what he was up to. That reminded her of what he’d said to Grady about running an errand for him. Mighty secretive, the both of them.
Instead of turning toward town at the main road, he reined the ponies in the other direction. Mud sucked at the broad wheels, at times touching the hubs, the ponies straining against their harnessing.
“Beautiful day if it weren’t for the mud,” she
said. “I can see why you brought the wagon instead of the buggy.”
“Yes. By the way, I’ve intended to ask, have you heard from Wilda? How are she and Calder doing? And when is that baby going to arrive?”
“No, nothing, and you know I would have told you immediately had I heard.”
He nodded, and she squeezed his thigh and slid her hand a bit higher up.
“Be careful there, or we’ll be out there rolling around in that prairie grass.”
“Oh, my. Aren’t you randy?”
“Randy? Where on earth…?”
“From Grady, of course. I like it. He was watching the sheep and called the ram a randy old goat, which I thought very funny, if not exactly correct.”
Blair laughed, leaned toward her, and kissed her just below her ear.
“I’m thinking of making a list of all the words he uses that I enjoy, so I can remember their meanings and use them with regularity. It amuses me to listen to myself speaking western lingo.”
“My sweet one, you manage to entertain me all the time, and I love you for it.”
“Do I? I want always to entertain you, because I would rather hear you laugh than any other sound in this entire world.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “I love you, Rowena. I truly do.”
“I know. And I love you too. So much.” She snuggled against him, her head at his shoulder. She wanted everything for him, but most especially she wanted him to find peace.
They had ridden for nearly half an hour when he turned down another road deep in mud. An arch announcing the name Bar D Ranch spanned the narrow boggy lane that curved over a small rise between white board fencing.
In the pastures on either side, magnificent horses grazed on thick spring grass. As one they raised their heads to watch the wagon pass by. They were large, thick of chest and long of leg, all of a deep reddish hue, some almost black in the morning sun, full manes and tails swirling with the wind.
“Oh, Blair, aren’t they superb? What are they?”
“Horses.” He cast her a devilish sidelong glance.
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