She shook her head no, focusing instead on Nick as his limbs stiffened and he arched his back. When his skin turned bluish, Rafe feared for the boy’s life and faced the truth. The fight to save Nick’s leg was about to end.
When the seizure eased, it left Nick pale and still. Susanna feathered her fingers through the boy’s hair and then looked at Rafe. Her brown eyes had a tearful sheen, but all the softness had gone out of her stance. “I have to take off the leg.”
Rafe knew she was right, but he couldn’t stand the thought. He glared at her. “You said yourself the tea needs time to work.”
“It does, but we’re out of time.”
She’d sounded like a banker turning down a loan. Filled with disgust, Rafe turned his head and stared at the wall with its family photographs and alphabet samplers. The lamp was burning bright and Nick had more color in his face. Rafe wasn’t accustomed to hoping for things, but he wanted to try.
He stared pointedly at Dr. Leaf. “One more hour.”
She shook her head. “I know it’s hard—”
“So is being a cripple.”
Her eyes, hard but glistening with tears, reminded him of rocks in the rain. “Without the surgery, he’ll die. It has to be done.”
“Damn it! How can you be so sure?”
When she didn’t reply, he read the answer in her eyes. She knew the difference between medicine and wishful thinking. He also knew that she prayed to the God who had left him standing at his mother’s grave and was about to turn a boy into a cripple. Or had Rafe done that with his selfish need to get to Mexico? Sick to his stomach, he pleaded with her. “Just a little longer, Doc. What can it hurt?”
Pity filled her eyes, as if she knew that he hadn’t hoped for anything in a long time. “All right,” she answered. “But only because I need to prepare the kitchen for surgery.”
“How long?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
Rafe dragged his hand through his hair. “Christ on crutches,” he muttered. But the profanity brought no satisfaction. Nick would be using crutches for the rest of his life.
Susanna’s gaze locked on his. “I’m going to need help and it’s too much for Emily. If you can’t do it, I’ll wake Tim.”
Rafe shook his head no. He’d gotten Nick into this mess and he wouldn’t abandon the boy now. “It’s my place.”
“Then it’s settled.”
But Rafe felt no peace at all. When Susanna left the room, he sat on Nick’s bed and started to talk. He told the kid he was sorry and promised that he’d do a better job of looking out for him. “I’d trade places with you if I could. I’d give anything, Nick. Anything…”
When he ran out of words, he lifted the boy’s hand in his own. If he’d believed in miracles, he would have begged for one. But he didn’t believe in anything except his own bad luck. Old feelings of betrayal welled in Rafe’s belly. His mother had been right. Be wise, my Raphaël. Good intentions can go awry.
Mimi had never explained that comment, but Rafe suspected she had been referring to his father. We must forgive…
Not in Rafe’s book. Some hurts were too deep and an amputation had to be one of them. He couldn’t imagine facing Nick in the morning. “I’m sorry” wouldn’t come close to expressing his remorse; nor would it give Nick back his leg. Unable to bear the sight of the boy, now tranquil with sleep, he hung his head.
“Look!”
Nick’s cry pulled Rafe out of the dark. Wide and bright, the boy’s eyes were focused on the wall. Rafe craned his neck to see what had roused him and felt the same jolt as Nick.
An angel had entered the room. Filmy and gray, the shadow stretched from the floor to the ceiling, giving the woman’s figure a slender strength. Instead of a halo, she had a braided crown. And in the place of wings, she had bent elbows and hands that were laced behind her back, forming two triangles with silver centers.
Nick was seeing a miracle, but Rafe understood the laws of light and shadow. He also recognized Susanna’s shape and the way she had tied her braid before the first surgery. Backlit by the lamp in the kitchen, she was casting a shadow that was both human and unearthly. The three of them stayed still, tense and breathing together, until Nick let out a sigh.
Terrified that the boy had drawn his last breath, Rafe looked at his face where he saw beads of sweat rising like diamonds. As the boy’s eyelids fluttered shut, his lips curved into a contented smile. In another minute, his entire body was drenched in perspiration.
The fever had broken, leaving Rafe to wonder if angels were real after all.
For the next three days, Rafe made himself useful around the ranch. Chopping wood and mucking out stalls gave him time to think about the angel on the wall and what had happened next.
Susanna had put away the bone saw and not mentioned it again. Instead she had brewed more tea and stayed up all night changing the poultice. By the time the sun rose, the wound had faded to pink and Nick was complaining about the taste of the tea.
They had all seen the shadow, but Nick had seen the woman in detail. Once, when Susanna was out of the room, he had informed Rafe that angels wore white dresses that glowed, but that they didn’t have halos like he’d thought. He’d also insisted that they were ten times prettier than the pictures he’d seen in his ma’s Bible, and this one had talked to him.
She had told him that the leg would hurt for a while and he wouldn’t like the tea, but that he was going to get better. She had also told him that heaven was a special place and someday, when he was a very old man, he’d see it for himself.
Alone in the barn, Rafe tossed a forkful of hay with more force. He wanted to think he’d been reading too much of The Odyssey to the boy, but he had seen the angel for himself. Nick was right. Angels didn’t have halos—they carried medical bags and tended to the wounded.
They also made boys—and grown men—fall in love with them. Not that Rafe was in that kind of danger. Nick was the one who couldn’t stop talking about the lady doctor. Rafe, don’t you think she’s pretty? Don’t you think she’s smart?
Rafe thought those things and more. He recalled rubbing her shoulders and the way she had hummed with pleasure. She had made him feel generous and even kind. But most haunting of all was the look in her eyes when she’d told him the leg had to come off. She could have judged him, but instead he’d seen the deepest kind of compassion.
I’ve made mistakes, too.
But not like his. Every minute that passed brought him a step closer to prison. As he tossed more hay to Lightning, Rafe weighed his options. He and Nick were stuck until the fracture healed. The sheriff had ridden out two days ago and had believed Rafe’s story, but staying in Midas wasn’t wise. Boardinghouses were full of losers like himself and he was likely to be recognized.
Even more troublesome was the longing in Nick’s eyes. Twice he’d hinted to Rafe about settling in Midas. The Duke girls had been talking to him about school and he wanted to go. He’d also been gabbing about meeting Susanna’s three young brothers—J.J., Silas and Law—or the holy terrors as she called them. She’d told Nick all about fishing in the stream behind the parsonage and collecting tadpoles in jars. She’d made it sound like so much fun that even Rafe wanted to roll up his trousers and go wading.
That night, Nick’s eyes had filled with hope. Do you think we could stay here?
Sorry, kid. But we’ve got to head south.
Nick had nodded, but his eyes had dulled with heartbreak. Rafe understood the feeling too well. The boy had it bad for the lady doctor. He wanted a mother and a home, friends and a normal life.
As for his own feelings, Rafe could handle himself. Lust was lust. He knew where to go and what to do. When he got to Mexico, he’d find a woman. He’d forget Susanna’s brown eyes and that silky braid. Someday he’d taste peppermint and not recall her name.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered. Who was he fooling? He didn’t want to forget her. In his dreams he’d already bedded her a dozen times. He’d imagined her
telling him that she’d never forget him and that she cared for him. There was no denying the truth. He had a bigger crush on the lady doctor than Nick did, but he knew how to solve it. A night in her bed would cure what ailed him. Unfortunately, that event wasn’t too likely.
Unless he got creative…. Rafe gave in to a smile. He didn’t expect the lady doctor to hop into bed with him, but he sure as hell was going to enjoy the chase. Judging by that kiss, she’d enjoy it, too.
Lingering in Midas had a definite appeal, but he still needed an inconspicuous place to stay. As much as Rafe disliked the thought, he figured the Duke ranch was the safest place to hide. That meant eating a plate of humble pie and asking King Henry for a job. After hanging up the pitchfork, Rafe walked to the house. He wiped his boots and stepped into the kitchen where the middle daughter was serving breakfast with the help of her little sister. Duke was sitting at the head of the table like Zeus. “Bonnie, I need more coffee.”
The girl lifted the pot off the stove and poured. Then she looked at Rafe, who was still in the doorway. “Would you like some, Mr. LaCroix?”
The girl had sounded like the maid in his father’s house, the one who had looked terrified every time she served breakfast. Rafe tensed at the memory. “No, thanks. I just want a word with your pa.”
Duke looked up with a scowl. “What is it?”
To Rafe’s way of thinking, he hadn’t done a thing to deserve Duke’s scorn. He’d been sleeping in the barn and had paid for his keep and Nick’s. He’d done chores and carved the ABCs into a set of blocks for the youngest girl who didn’t get a lot of attention. Still, he needed a favor, so he made his voice friendly. “First off, thanks again for opening your home to Nick. He’s a good kid.”
“Susanna tells me he’s healing.”
“That’s right. The infection’s gone.”
Duke nodded. “So you two will be on your way.”
It was an order, not a statement. Rafe forced himself to be amiable. “That’s what I want to talk about. The fracture still has to heal. You need a ranch hand and I need a place to stay. I’d like to work for you until Nick can ride.”
Still standing, Rafe wished he’d pulled up a chair on his own. With Duke glaring up at him, he felt like a beggar.
“Girls, go outside,” the rancher said.
As Bonnie and Maggie slipped through the door, Duke crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know who you are, LaCroix, or where you’ve been. But I want you out of here.”
Annoyed, Rafe dropped lazily onto a chair and drummed his fingers on the table. “What did I do to piss you off so bad?”
“Breathing would have been enough.”
“It’s more than that.”
“All right,” Duke said. “Here are the facts. I’ve seen that money in your saddlebags and you’re packing three rifles. That carbine is a work of art. Most men don’t love their guns.”
The carbine had been a gift from Lem and Rafe treasured it. He was a breath away from calling Duke an idiot, but he needed a place for Nick. Trying to sound nonchalant, he said, “I’m a bounty hunter. I turned in Frank Benton and that’s why they’re after me. It also explains the money you saw.”
Duke dipped his knife in the butter crock. “Bounty hunters aren’t much better than the scum they chase.”
“Some, not all.” Lem had been in the business for the money, but he’d had a sense of justice, too.
As if he had nothing better to do, Duke slathered the biscuit with butter. With each turn of the knife, Rafe’s annoyance deepened. Determined to outlast him, he stared at the rancher’s nose until he set down the knife.
Duke took a bite, chewed like a cow and swallowed. As the dough went down his throat, he glared at Rafe. “I won’t hire you, LaCroix. For one thing, I don’t like you. For another, there’s no need. The boy’s well enough for a trip to town.”
“How do you know?”
“Susanna told me.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Rafe didn’t like the rancher’s smug tone, nor had he missed the emphasis on Susanna. The man was claiming her as plainly as he branded one of his steers. The notion made Rafe sick to his stomach. She was too smart for the rancher and far too independent to put up with his high-handed ways. Rafe knew what he had to do. Come hell or high water, he intended to set Susanna straight about men in general and Duke in particular. He’d had seen it happen before. Women confused nature’s urges with love all the time. Men didn’t think the same way. They scratched what itched and went on their way.
Right now, what itched the most was Rafe’s temper. Knowing that a tongue-lashing wouldn’t help Nick, he pushed to his feet and looked down at Duke. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather hear the news from Dr. Leaf.”
“Suit yourself. She’s down by the stream.”
Rafe strode out the back door and headed along the dirt path he’d taken the afternoon he’d kissed Susanna. He took the coincidence as a good sign but changed his mind when he heard feminine laughter. Peering through the trees, he saw Susanna and Emily gathering purple flowers from a bush by the stream. A wicker basket sat between them as they worked in the pale sunlight.
Rafe had eavesdropped before and it had paid off. Staying in the shadows, he listened as the women talked about dresses and the upcoming dance Susanna had mentioned to Duke.
“I wish I knew how to dance,” Emily said.
Rafe watched as Susanna dropped a handful of flowers into the basket. “Your mother loved to dance. I remember seeing her with your father at socials. Why don’t you ask him to teach you?”
Emily heaved a sigh. “He’ll tell me I’m too young.”
Rafe frowned at the thought. At fifteen, Emily had to be prepared, not just protected. Dancing was harmless as long as she knew the rules. Susanna had stood and turned to the girl. Even from the distance, Rafe could see that she was troubled by Emily’s comment.
“Dancing’s not hard if you know a few steps,” she said.
“I’ll teach you right now.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
Now this Rafe had to see. Leaning against a tree, he watched as Susanna led Emily into the middle of a grassy circle. She positioned the girl’s hand on her shoulder, gave some basic instructions and began to count out the steps. When Emily could manage the simple box step, Susanna began to ta-da a tune, widening the circle until they were whirling in a full-scale waltz. Rafe felt a smile on his lips as the humming filled the air with bittersweet needs. Emily had to find her confidence, and Susanna needed a dance partner who wore trousers instead of a pinafore. Rafe knew just the man for the job.
He stepped to the edge of the meadow but stayed out of view until Susanna was close enough to touch. Then he stepped forward and tapped her shoulder.
At the sight of him, Emily gasped and stepped back. Susanna turned into his arms. Putting his hands in place, he said, “May I have this dance, Dr. Leaf?”
Her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and longing. “I don’t know.”
He smiled at Emily to include her in the banter. “Would you mind, Miss Duke?”
Wide-eyed and blushing, Emily said, “Go ahead. I’ll head back—”
“You can stay and watch,” Susanna said hurriedly.
Rafe didn’t want a chaperone, but dancing with Susanna was more than he’d hoped for and he planned to enjoy it. After taking her in his arms, he picked up the ta-das and swept her in circles to the “Blue Danube.”
The last time he’d heard the music he’d been in Boston and lusting after a debutante whose name he’d long since forgotten. Looking into Susanna’s brown eyes, he knew that he’d never forget anything about this moment. Warm in his arms, she added her voice to their makeshift music, matching him step for step. Forward and back, around and around…they danced with their eyes locked and their hands entwined. Even with a respectful cushion of air between them, Rafe felt as if they were one body
. Knowing that Susanna was feeling the same pull, he drew her close enough to kiss.
If Emily hadn’t been watching, he’d have done it. With the morning sun pale in the sky and the grass still damp with dew, he’d have brushed Susanna’s lips with his, teasing her until she pushed him away or asked for more. He didn’t know which one she’d choose, but he wanted to find out. The trick was getting rid of their chaperone.
With a final flourish, he ended the waltz and stepped back. “Thank you, Dr. Leaf.”
“The pleasure was mine, Mr. LaCroix.”
The formality, he realized, was for Emily. The girl was standing at the edge of the clearing with an almost worshipful look in her eyes. Seeing a chance to charm Susanna, Rafe tipped his hat to the girl. “You have a good teacher, Miss Duke. I hope you have a wonderful time at the dance.”
“Thank you,” she answered shyly.
Rafe remembered being fifteen all too well. He’d endured pimples, a cracking voice and clumsy moments with girls. He’d also been an outcast—the bastard son who didn’t belong in high society but had a claim to a fortune. Emily wasn’t alone in her nervousness.
“Want to know a secret?” he asked the girl.
When she blushed, Susanna answered for her. “Sure.”
“The boys are more nervous than you are. I’d bet money that a few of them are dancing with broomsticks right now.”
Emily looked doubtful. “Not Clint Morgan. He’s eighteen.”
Rafe glanced at Susanna, who looked torn between warning the girl and encouraging her. Taking the matter in hand, he lowered his chin and tried to sound like an uncle.
“Here’s what you do,” he said. “If this Clint fellow asks you to dance, say yes. If you like it, smile at him. When he asks again, tell him you’re thirsty. If he offers you a cup of punch, you can talk awhile and then dance with him again. But not more than once.”
“Why is that?” Susanna asked.
“You should know, Doc.” Rafe flashed a smile. “It’s biology. Men like the chase.”
Emily blushed six shades of red. After stepping to the basket, she lifted it and stepped toward the trail. “I better take these inside.”
Midnight Marriage Page 12