Promise Me

by Deborah Schneider

  “I’m not feeling well enough to eat, but thank you, Harriet. The tea will help me settle down again, I hope.”

  Harriet unfolded a linen napkin on her lap and dropped one of the pastries upon it, breaking off a corner to take a bite. “Robert said he’d come and tell us when they figure out what happened. Sheriff Brody is over there now, with Sam.” She raised an eyebrow at Amanda. “A woman in your condition can’t be sitting here worryin’ all day. T’ain’t healthy.”

  Amanda sipped the tea again and nodded. “I know I need to calm down, but the shock of seeing Caleb on the floor, and all that blood.” She shuddered, blinked up at Harriet and forced herself to keep the tears in check.

  Harriet continued to nibble at pieces of the tart. “Does Sam know yet?”

  Amanda frowned. “Sam was there when I found Caleb. Don’t you remember?”

  Harriet gawked at her, her mouth still wide open. “Not about Caleb, about the little one.”

  Little one? What was Harriet talking about? Caleb was just a boy, but a tall, strapping boy. Hardly what anyone would call little.

  “I’m sorry, Harriet. I seem to be confused. What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talkin’ about your condition.”

  Amanda set her cup on the matching saucer and settled it on her lap. She had experienced a shock that morning, so perhaps her mental faculties were not operating at full capacity, because she couldn’t understand what in the world Harriet Parmeter was talking about.

  Leaning forward, Harriet regarded her from the tip of her toes to the hair on her head. “When was the last time you had your courses?”

  Amanda’s face heated. Ladies rarely ever spoke of such things.

  “I, it was...” When had she experienced her monthly flow the last time? Before she came to Willow Creek, at least that was the last time she could remember. Dawning realization washed over her as a light, joyful feeling bubbled up from deep inside. She peeked down at her stomach with awe and wonder.

  “Do you really think?” She looked to Harriet. “Is it possible?”

  Harriet nodded. “You’d know better than me of course. But I noticed you don’t have an appetite, and that’s one sign.” She finished off the last of the tart. “Missing your monthly is another. I suspect you’re in the family way.” She brushed the crumbs from her fingers and gave Amanda a playful wink.

  “And since this is news to you, I’m bettin’ Sam doesn’t suspect a thing.” Her eyes took on a warm, faraway look. “That man will make a wonderful father. I’ve seen him around kids, and he sure does enjoy bein’ with them.”

  “Sam’s going to be a father?” A baby? She was going to have a baby. Sam’s baby? The prospect delighted, yet frightened her. She didn’t even know if her husband wanted a wife, and now she was going to present him with a family.

  “It might take him a bit to get used to the idea, but once you tell him, I swear he is goin’ to be the happiest man on earth.” Harriet stood up and shook the crumbs out of her skirts. “I think you’d best lie down for a bit, to gather your strength. Soon as I hear anythin’ about Caleb, I’ll come up and tell you.” She patted Amanda’s hand. “And I want you to try to eat somethin’ when you wake up.” She gave Amanda another wink. “You’re eatin’ for two now, remember that.”

  With a sweep of her dark skirts, Harriet left before Amanda could form a response. She attempted to gather her scattered thoughts. She was going to have a baby. How in the world had that happened?

  Warming again, she realized she should have anticipated this. She was no innocent virgin. For heaven’s sake, she was a widow and a married woman. A flutter of deep and profound happiness swirled through her. She closed her eyes to savor it.

  A baby. A small, perfect creature created from her love for Sam. The corners of her lips lifted into a smile, because despite the horrible events of the morning, she now held a precious secret.

  The quilt drifted to the floor when she stood up and opened her eyes. Standing before her dressing table, Amanda wondered how long it would be before her body started to blossom and change. Touching her breasts, she visualized a tiny, downy head tucked into her arms, suckling.

  The day suddenly seemed brighter, more filled with hope than she’d ever imagined possible. Amanda hugged herself, and pure joy exploded within her. She wasn’t barren. In a few months she would give Sam a child, and despite his protests about being unreliable, uncertain, and irresponsible, she knew he was simply afraid.

  Sam was afraid to admit how much he loved her, because experience had taught him the things he loved and cared about could be snatched from him by tragedy and loss. But Amanda knew the things he denied himself were the very things he desired most. Stability, honor, love, and a family. These were the things Amanda would give him. A new sense of purpose seized her. She could make Samuel Calhoun very happy, if he could learn to trust her.

  She lay down and spread the quilt over her legs, suddenly realizing how utterly exhausted she was. It didn’t matter now; she could rest. Tonight would be soon enough to share the news with Sam, and whatever his reaction, Amanda was determined to remain calm and composed. The Calhouns were a family now.

  She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks to God for this miracle in her life. She humbly added another prayer, asking for a miracle for Caleb.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam scrutinized the doctor while he ministered to Caleb. When he pulled a bottle of whiskey from the pile of things Homer and Walter had collected, Sam stepped forward to grab it from his hands.

  “You won’t be needing that for a while,” he said. The doctor yanked it back and glared at Sam.

  “It’s not for me, you fool. I need it to cleanse these wounds.” He opened the bottle and poured the golden liquid onto a clean linen cloth. “If you want to be of some real help, let’s get that jacket off him. There’s too much blood here to come from the scrapes on his face. This boy has been badly injured, and I need to find out what caused all this loss of blood.”

  The authority in the doctor’s voice shocked Sam. He couldn’t remember seeing Doc Potter sober even once these past few months. Apparently, when the man wasn’t inebriated, he knew a great deal about medicine. Caleb whimpered and thrashed as they removed his heavy denim jacket. Sam grimaced when he saw the gaping wound near the boy’s shoulder. A knife wound, one that looked jagged, ugly, and deep.

  “This boy’s lucky,” the doctor muttered.

  “I’m betting when he wakes up, he won’t agree with you.”

  The doctor poured whiskey onto the wound and Sam winced.

  “At least there’s a chance he will wake up.” The doctor sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Whoever did this was probably aiming for his heart. Caleb must have moved and deflected the blade.” He pulled some dark thread from the pile of medical supplies. “I can stitch him up, but he’s lost a lot of blood. It’ll be nip and tuck as far as him pulling out of this.”

  Sam stood back and observed the doctor making small, precise stitches to close the wound on Caleb’s shoulder. The boy cried out again, but he didn’t regain consciousness. Sam was grateful for that, because what the Doc was doing looked painful. His stomach clenched at the sight of the needle piercing skin. He turned away, wiping the moisture from his own brow.

  When the wound was closed, the doctor stood up and gave Sam a satisfied look. “He’s young and strong, and that’s about all he’s got in his favor. Do you think we can get him into a bed upstairs?”

  Sam considered the boy’s long, lanky body and nodded. “He probably doesn’t weigh much. I can help carry him up there. Then I’ll get someone to stay with him.”

  Doc Potter nodded. He walked to a basin filled with water and started to scrub the blood from his hands. “No need to hurry on that, Calhoun. I’m going to keep an eye on the boy for a few hours. He’ll need some laudanum
when he wakes up, and I have to make sure he stays quiet.”

  The doctor’s words stunned Sam. The man had a reputation for leaving a patient as soon as possible, always eager to get back to the saloons and his whiskey. “You turnin’ over a new leaf, Doc?”

  Potter shrugged his shoulders before wiping his hands. His eyes, though bloodshot, were determined. “Maybe it’s time I decided to practice medicine instead of self-destruction.” He eased himself onto a chair and put his hands on his knees. “Your wife has created quite a stir in this town. She’s been telling folks I’m worthless and good-for-nothing.”

  Sam rubbed his chin, but didn’t answer. Truth be told, he’d thought the same.

  “She’s talking about bringing a new doctor to Willow Creek.” Potter tossed the towel onto the pile of blood-stained linens on the floor. “And I’m forced to admit, most of the time, she’s right.”

  Sam sat down across from the doctor, folded his arms, and nodded. “Amanda has a way of being right that can drive a man insane.”

  Doc Potter laughed. “I guess you’d know more about that than me.” He settled his elbows on his knees and took a deep gulp of air. “But your wife is right this time. I had the opportunity to study medicine at one of the best schools in the country. And despite the rumors about my skills, when I’m sober, I have a talent for healing.” He swallowed, and his eyes glistened. “But I wasn’t skilled enough to save my beautiful Anna or our baby.”

  Sam had no words of comfort to offer. What did a man say when another talked of losing the most important thing in his life? How would he feel if he lost Amanda? He remembered Caleb’s words. How would he feel when he lost Amanda? She’d have to leave Willow Creek now. Her life was in danger, and Sam knew he couldn’t protect her.

  Doc Potter shook his head and rose from the chair. “I don’t know why I’m spilling my guts to you, Calhoun.” He stared at the young man stretched out on the floor. “Other than I want your wife to know I’m going to try to remember why I became a doctor in the first place. I started out with a desire to heal people and do some good in this world. I’m going to attempt to be a real doctor again.”

  Sam stood to face him. “I’ll tell Amanda. She’s got the crazy notion that Willow Creek can become something more than a wild mining town. She has dreams of respectability and decency. She talks about building schools and homes and making this a real town.”

  Doc Potter straightened his shoulders. “Sometimes a good woman can change the way folks think and act. It might be a crazy notion, and then again, she just might be dreaming big enough for all of us.”

  A flicker of hope whistled through Sam at the Doc’s words. Amanda certainly held all of his hopes and dreams. He loved her, cherished her, and wanted her to remain his wife. But telling her would bind her to him, and to Willow Creek, forever. If she knew how he felt, she’d never leave. Most of all, he feared that someday, when he’d been careless and dropped his vigilance, someone would hurt her.

  Seeing Amanda lying on the floor in a pool of blood would destroy him.

  “Let’s get this boy upstairs and into a bed. I think he’ll stay unconscious at least long enough for us to move him.” The doctor pointed. “If I remember correctly, there’s a pretty decent room at the top of the stairs.”

  “Maybelle’s room?” Sam grinned.

  Doc Potter flushed and stammered for a moment, then grinned back. “Good Lord, but doesn’t that woman have some big. . . ?” The Doc coughed. “Sorry Calhoun, I forget you’re now a married man.”

  Sam just grinned. After they got Caleb upstairs and settled onto the bed, Sam opened his pocket watch to check the time. It was nearly two. How had the time disappeared so quickly?

  He remembered his conversation with Amanda that morning and her eagerness at the idea of riding out to the Willow Grove to have a picnic. He slipped the watch back into his pocket. There wouldn’t be any delightful sojourns, today or ever again. He was going to tell Amanda the truth about his arrangement with Father Mikelson. After that, he had no doubt she’d leave Willow Creek.

  His heart ached. She would leave him. Forever. The first time he caught a glimpse of her face he’d been afraid she could capture his heart. The night she’d discovered him in the kitchen, when she’d talked about loneliness, he’d warned himself to beware of her allure. How could a man protect himself from loving Amanda?

  Sam stumbled up the steps of the Parmeter House, admitting he didn’t have the courage to face her yet. He settled into a rocking chair on the porch. Lighting a cigar, he enjoyed the smooth taste of good Virginia tobacco. He tapped the end of the cigar against the porch rail and attempted to conjure the words to explain to Amanda why they couldn’t be together. They wouldn’t come.

  Various plans to keep her by his side coursed through his mind. He could retire from the Secret Service, grab whatever cash he could raise quickly, and travel with Amanda. The idea filled him with hope.

  Then masculine pride reared its ugly head.

  How long would his measly savings support them? Sooner or later, he’d have to rely upon his wife’s money. And the thought rankled him. He’d done a lot of things he was ashamed of, but he’d never used a woman’s money to survive.

  For the first time in years, he was regaining some of his pride. Living off his wife would destroy that.

  Then again, he didn’t want to give her an annulment and send her away either. Tossing the cigar over the railing, he stood up and brushed his frock coat. It was time. In a few minutes, the decision would no longer be his to make. Everything would depend upon Amanda’s reaction to his confession.

  Robert waved at him as he crossed the foyer to climb the stairs. “Harriet was with her for a while, tried to get her to eat something and rest.”

  Sam kept one booted foot on the first step. “We need to take turns sitting with Caleb. The doc will stay for a few hours, but I want to make sure we have a man at the door and someone in the room with the boy at all times.”

  Robert nodded. “You expectin’ more trouble?”

  Sam nodded. “I don’t think Caleb was the real target. Once word gets out he’s alive, I suspect whoever attacked him might try again. We don’t know if Caleb recognized his attacker or not, but if he can identify him, that means the boy’s still in danger.”

  Robert lifted the oak divider that allowed entrance into the desk area. “I’ll get some men together. There are a lot of miners who like that boy, and they’re upset about what happened. I won’t have any trouble finding volunteers.”

  Sam started up the stairs. Each step seemed agonizingly difficult, and he tried again to rehearse what he would say to Amanda. He swallowed when he finally stood in front of their door and fumbled with the key. His fingers felt as thick as the lump in his throat.

  Finally, he unlocked the door to step into the quiet late-afternoon shadows stretching across the two rooms. Silence greeted him. The soft rhythm of Amanda’s breathing was the only sound in the room. He quietly approached her bed and watched her sleep. He admired her features—the pert nose, the full, luscious mouth that invited his kisses. Soft russet-colored curls had escaped from her chignon to frame her face. She was so beautiful, so precious, and so vulnerable.

  How was Sam going to convince her they could never be together, when he couldn’t convince himself?

  She stirred and whispered a word. Baby? Was that what she said? Sam grinned. Maybe she was dreaming about him. He shook the thought away. He turned to walk back into his own room when her voice stopped him.

  “How’s Caleb?” Her tone was soft, dreamy sounding.

  Sam knelt next to her, grasped one of her hands, and tried to make his voice gentle and comforting. “Doc Potter is still with him. He had a deep stab wound in his shoulder and he’s lost a lot of blood.”

  He watched her face go pale, visible even in the deep shadows of the room.

  “We won�
�t know anything for a few hours. But the doc says he’s young and healthy. That should work in his favor.”

  Amanda sat up and tried to fling the quilt aside. “I should be with him.”

  Sam held her in place. “The doc is still with him, and I’ve sent Robert to find volunteers to keep guard around the clock.” He touched her face gently. “You had a terrible shock this afternoon and you need your rest.”

  She gave him a small smile and leaned back against the brass headboard. “I suppose you’re right.”

  A tremor of concern gripped Sam. It wasn’t usual for Amanda to agree so quickly. Was she truly feeling ill? Had the shock of seeing Caleb injured at the Miners’ Association affected her so deeply?

  “I need to talk to you, Sam.”

  He took a deep breath and stood, pacing across the room. “We need to talk to each other, Amanda. And seriously.”

  He twisted on a boot heel and walked to the window, opening the curtains to allow sunlight to spill into the room.

  “You have that ‘I know what’s best for you’ tone in your voice, Sam. I’m not as fragile as you think I am.” She pulled the covers back again to climb out of bed. “In fact, since coming to Willow Creek, I’ve discovered just how strong I can be when necessary.” She crossed the room to face him, her chin high with pride and her eyes bright with confidence. “I think my experiences here have helped me grow up. Arthur tried to keep me childlike, dependent upon him.” She took a deep breath. “And I guess I enjoyed that, too. But I’ve learned I like being independent and making my own decisions. I appreciate that, even though we’re married, you haven’t tried to control me.” She touched his arm and gave him a brilliant smile.

  Sam couldn’t resist. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He inhaled her lilac scent and closed his eyes as her soft, curvaceous body molded against him. He’d never love another woman the way he loved Amanda, and the thought made him weak with longing.

  He wanted to kiss her, to enjoy the soft petals of her lips opening beneath his. He ached to taste the sweet nectar she offered, but if he did, he’d be lost forever.