“Will you copulate with me, Declan?” She asked the question so earnestly, and he reacted with a swift tightening of every muscle in his body. He had to fight the urge to agree to it.
“You’re spouting fevered dreams, lass.”
She frowned. “So you do not want to copulate with me either? What is wrong with me?”
He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. “That’s not what I said.” He leaned in close. “I would take you to bed every morning, noon and night if you were mine. You’d never leave my side.”
There. He’d said it and confessed. He liked Josephine, quite a lot, and her quiet fierceness impressed him. Her dreams of lying with him and finding release, well, he knew what he’d be thinking of when he closed his eyes for the next ten years or so.
“What’s happened here?” Buck Avery’s voice cut through Declan’s thoughts like a sharp knife. He turned to look at the wagon master, his bushy eyebrows drawn into an angry V. “What did you do to this girl?”
Declan bit back the retort that threatened to burst from his throat. No matter how he proved himself to his boss, his past was always there. A stain on his soul no one would see past.
“I brought her back to her family’s wagon. Nothing else happened.” A conversation that no one else would know about but Declan didn’t share that piece of information.
Buck didn’t look as though he believed him. Before he could open his mouth to doubt Declan, Mrs. Chastain ran to the wagon, her hair escaping the tight bun at the back of her neck. She was as beautiful as her daughters, a smart and strong older version of all of them. Better yet, he knew she was a nurse and could help Jo.
“Mon Dieu, Josephine.” She assessed her daughter quickly.
“After we stopped, I was helping Miss Edith down when I spotted Jose—er, Miss Chastain walking. She was half a mile away and didn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon. When I got to her, I found her like this. Feverish and babbling.” He had never spoken so much to these folks in the time he’d been with them. They stared at him, making Declan want to scratch an itch he couldn’t find.
“She is running a high fever.” Mrs. Chastain turned her attention back to her daughter. “We need to bring it down quickly.”
“I’m back!” The younger sister appeared toting a bucket, water sloshing every which way as she struggled with it. “I got the water.”
“Charlotte, you are to be commended. We need to cool her down.” Mrs. Chastain took the bucket from her youngest daughter and set it on the ground.
“But Mr. Calla—”
Declan cut her off with a shake of head. Charlotte frowned at him but said nothing further. He didn’t want to call any more attention to himself.
“Mr. Avery, is there a physician at the fort?” Mrs. Chastain took a rag and started bathing Jo’s face.
“I don’t rightly know. Memory tells me there isn’t one, just a former Army medic.” Buck looked at Declan. “Go find out while Mrs. Chastain takes care of her kin.”
Although he wanted to stay and watch over Josephine, he heeded his boss. With a nod, he left the small worried group and walked toward the fort. Declan passed the bustling crowd as the people from the wagon train vied for the wares and supplies sold by the vendors in the fort. Many would probably pay too much, but it wasn’t Declan’s concern, although he could spot a shyster at a hundred paces.
He wasn’t surprised to see Army personnel in residence, but it made him nervous. Not because of the tales he’d heard of Indians attacking whites, but because his former boss, the one he’d shot and buried on the prairie, had a long reach. His size and his appearance were noticeable. He pulled his hat down lower on his forehead and hurried past the soldiers.
Although he had no idea where to go, he headed toward the mercantile, the largest building within the walls of the fort. He stepped in and muscled his way through the people who were buzzing all over the merchandise like a hive of bees. When he reached the counter, there were two blond men tallying up sales and taking money.
“Excuse me.”
They ignored him, and that got Declan’s back up like nothing else had. Josephine was out there, burning up from fever, and these two fools had no idea what kind of shit he was about to rain down on them.
He reached across the counter and grabbed the shirtfront the larger of the men, then yanked him off his feet. Declan shoved his face into the surprised man’s face.
“I need a doctor. Now.” A hush fell over the previously loud store.
“I, uh, what?” The man dropped his pencil and it rolled across the counter.
“There’s a woman on the wagon train burning up with fever and pain in her belly. She needs a doctor.” Declan shook him slightly and the man’s face blanched. “Are ye understanding me, ye great fool?” His Irish accent deepened and he cursed himself for letting it sneak out.
“Yessir, I do. We don’t got a doc, but there’s a medic.” The man shook harder than Declan’s fist. He never thought to use his bulk to intimidate anyone again but this was for Jo. He’d have to deal with the repercussions later.
“And where is the medic?” Declan growled through his teeth.
“Corner building with the fresh whitewash. He takes care of teeth too, and the horses.” The man looked down at Declan’s hand. “Can you let me go, mister?”
Declan forced his hand to open and released the man’s shirt. “If I don’t find the medic, I’m going to find you.”
The man’s head bobbed in assent and Declan turned to leave the store. Dozens of people watched as he walked out. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, whispers and accusing stares. He told himself not to react, to continue moving. Jo needed him. The thought of her suffering drove him forward.
When he made it outside, he broke into a run and headed for the bright white building in the corner of the fort. There was no sign or indication this was the medic’s house and he sure as hell hoped the fool at the mercantile was telling the truth.
He burst through the door and found a balding man with a paunch leaning over another man, a pair of pliers in his chunky hand. A pair of spectacles perched on the bald man’s nose. To his credit, he didn’t react to Declan’s entrance. He pushed the pliers further into the other man’s mouth.
“This is gonna hurt, Wendell. You ready?”
“Hurrr.” The man spoke around the bald man’s hand and pliers.
With a quick pull and a gush of blood, the bald man pulled a tooth. The patient clutched his mouth and squealed like a little girl.
“Got it. Aw, don’t be a fool. This thing was rotten as flies on horse shit.” The bald man held up the bloody pliers with a rather gray-looking tooth clutched in its jaws. He gave the other man a rag. “Now pack that for a bit to stop the bleeding. Leave two bits at the door, Wendell.”
The shorter man shoved the rag in his mouth and scurried to the door, scowling at Declan as he passed. The clink of coins in a brass bowl by the door marked the man’s departure, leaving Declan alone with the bald dentist who also served as horse doctor and medic.
“You the medic?”
The man went to a basin on the table and washed off the pliers and his hands. “I am. Name’s Frank Drummond.”
“I’ve got a woman who needs help. She’s running a fever and has belly pain.” Declan didn’t want to reveal what she’d been babbling. It would make him blush to remember it, foolish as that was.
“Where is this woman?” Drummond dried his hands on a clean towel.
“She’s with the wagon train, outside the fort.”
“Hm, is her belly pain sharp or dull?” He put his hands on his hips and scowled.
“I don’t know.” Declan gestured to the door. “I need you to come. Now.”
Drummond stood there and raised one brow, his spectacles glinting in the sunlight coming through the open door. “I used to teach school back in Philadelphia. I know your type, young man. I won’t walk into a trap no matter what story you’ve concocted.”
Decl
an didn’t want to react, but he flinched. “I’m trying to help a friend, Mr. Drummond. Nothing more.”
The other man studied him for a beat before he nodded. “All right then, that’s a worthy cause. I would have your name, though, and your promise this is not a sham.”
Surprised, Declan blew out a breath. “My name is Declan Callahan and my friend is Josephine Chastain. She’s a special lass and right now she’s powerful sick.”
Drummond fussed around gathering a few things, and then he turned to Declan. “Lead the way, Mr. Callahan.”
Pleased he’d convinced the man to help Jo, Declan followed. His gut twisted into knots thinking about what was wrong with her and hoping like hell this strange bald man could help her.
Chapter Two
Jo was itchy all over, but her arms refused to move so she could scratch. She was hot too. Hot enough to make her sweat profusely. If she was lucky, there was no one close by enough to smell her. Nothing worse than a lady who smelled badly.
“Come back to me, cherie.” Her mother’s voice sounded in her ear, full of worry and fear. If Maman was worried, something was very wrong.
Jo forced her eyes open, squinting and tearing at the bright light. She was surprised to see Mr. Avery, her father, Isabelle and Charlotte hovering over her. More shocking was to find she lay prone on the wagon and her face and neck were wet.
“What has happened?” Her voice was rusty as an old door.
Maman smiled shakily. “You are sick, cherie.” Her gloved hand cupped Jo’s face. “We are waiting on a physician.”
Sick? She never got sick. Her constitution was hearty, more so than any of her sisters. How could she be ill now?
Declan appeared in her line of vision, his scowl deep as the frown on his face. “I found the medic.”
An older man walked up to her; his balding pate and kind smile made her feel at ease. “Hello there, young lady. I’m Frank Drummond.”
“Josephine Chastain.” She blinked as her eyes burned from the sun. “I do not believe I am ill.”
Pain ripped through her abdomen and she gasped. She clutched her belly and prayed she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of all these people.
“Maman, I need to...”
“Everyone away except for Mr. Drummond.” Her mother shooed away the crowd and returned to Jo’s side.
“Have you had diarrhea?” Mr. Drummond put on a pair of gloves before he probed her belly, sending additional shards of pain through her.
To her mortification, she messed her drawers. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Maman cleaned her up, protecting her from everyone’s view. Mr. Drummond waited patiently, giving her his back, for which she was very grateful. After Maman finished, he returned to examine Josephine.
“I guess that answers that question, hm?” He checked her forehead, her neck and her fingers and toes. “How long has the fever been going on?”
Maman wrung her hands. “I did not notice she was sick.” She started to take off her gloves and hat, as though she’d just realized she still wore them.
Mr. Drummond stopped her. “No, don’t take them off. It’s safer if you keep them on.”
“Do you know what it is?” Maman looked desperate.
“I believe I do. Let’s go speak to your wagon master.”
“No, I deserve to hear this.” Jo wasn’t about to let anyone make a decision or know about her illness before she did.
Mr. Drummond frowned, but he nodded. “Fair enough.”
At Maman’s signal, the group returned with concerned expressions. Declan hovered in the background, behind everyone. The medic addressed them.
“I believe Miss Chastain has typhoid.”
The word “typhoid” fell like an anvil in a still pond. Jo was terrified, knowing what she remembered of the disease. Her mother had helped with an outbreak the year before, where at least a dozen people died.
“Are you certain, monsieur?” Maman’s voice shook.
“Fairly sure. I think you probably realized it too. The rose spots on her chest and neck confirmed it for me.” Mr. Drummond sounded calm, as though he wasn’t talking about Jo’s possible death sentence.
“She can’t continue on this wagon train.” Buck Avery’s pronouncement shocked her more than the diagnosis.
“Impossible.” Maman shook her head. “I will take care of her and she will recover quickly.”
Buck shook his head. “Nope. I can’t allow it. I have a couple hundred pioneers here counting on me to keep them safe. Typhoid spreads fast. Everyone who has touched her can’t continue on this wagon train either.”
“Mrs. Chastain wore gloves.” Mr. Drummond pointed out. “Did anyone else touch her?”
No one spoke until Charlie piped up. “Mr. Callahan did.”
Jo watched the pained expression on Declan’s face. He’d touched her? When and how?
“He carried her back from the prairie. She was walking to nowhere when he saved her. Then he checked her forehead when he brought her back to the wagon. He wasn’t wearing gloves.” Charlie’s face was white as a sheet, likely as scared as Jo was over the diagnosis. “He’s the one who sent me for cold water.”
She didn’t remember Declan helping her nor did she remember him touching her. Maman looked surprised, then frowned at him.
“You did not speak up and tell us, Mr. Callahan.” Maman sounded calm but Jo heard the undertones in her voice.
“I didn’t want any trouble. I only wanted to help your daughter. She was about to disappear into the prairie and I couldn’t let that happen.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground, as though he had something to be ashamed of.
“Thank you, Decl—I mean, Mr. Callahan.” Jo was grateful if no one else was.
“That presents a problem.” Mr. Drummond glanced between them. “This young man has been exposed. We’ll need to set up a quarantine.”
Everyone spoke at once, yelling over each other until Jo could hardly distinguish between the voices. She tried to stop them, but she couldn’t summon the energy to make herself heard. Declan was the one who saved her. Again.
“Ladies and gents, ye all need to stop your caterwauling!” His booming voice cut through the cacophony.
Her parents stared while Charlie’s mouth fell open. Buck scowled at his employee.
“Now see here—”
“No, you see here. I’ll take Miss Chastain to the quarantine and you can take your wagon train forward tomorrow.” He looked at her parents. “I promise to take care of her until the quarantine passes, then bring her safely to you in Oregon.”
Jo was about to tell him not to take charge of her life, but it was a reasonable, logical course of action. She couldn’t think of a better one herself.
“Monsieur Drummond, the quarantine period is three to four weeks, oui?” Maman always looked for all the information before making a decision.
“About that, yep. Have to wait for the fever to break, and that can take some time.” Mr. Drummond spoke as though he wasn’t sentencing her to a month of pain and discomfort. She knew typhoid could kill and Declan was signing up for his own hell watching over her.
Why would he do that?
“I cannot leave my daughter in the care of strangers.” Maman didn’t mention the family history with Declan, but Jo knew that was on her mind.
“If you stay with her, we won’t wait for you.” Mr. Avery folded his arms across his chest. “We have to beat the snow, and that means we leave tomorrow.”
Maman’s gaze fell on Jo, and she saw the terror and turmoil in her green eyes. Jo couldn’t let her parents give up their dream in Oregon for her. She had to make the decision.
“I will stay here. You will go.” Jo had made up her mind and she wasn’t about to change it.
“We can’t possibly do that, cherie.” Papa shook his head.
“Yes, you can. I can send word to Frankie and John after the quarantine is over.” Jo knew her sister and new husband wouldn’t want a boarder when t
hey didn’t have a house yet, but they would take her in.
“Ah, you ask too much.” Maman’s voice was thick with unshed tears. “Do not force me to choose between Oregon and my child.”
“I am a woman grown, not a child. I have made the choice, not you.” Jo’s own throat closed with emotion. When her parents left, it could be a year before she saw them again. She’d never been separated from them before. It would be difficult, but she would survive. They had turned her into a smart woman and she would do them proud.
“Please.” Maman pressed her forehead into her hands.
Jo swallowed hard and forced herself to speak. “I will recover and I will see you again.”
“Do you have room for them at the fort? I don’t know what you need for quarantine, but I expect we need to take care of it right quick.” The normally nice Mr. Avery was pushing her out of his wagon train with both his boots planted on her behind.
“There is a small shack in the corner of the fort, used by one of the Indian women when she comes to sell buffalo robes. I can’t speak for the cleanliness of it, but nothing that soap won’t cure. It’s small, but it’ll do temporarily.” Mr. Drummond glanced at Declan. “Carry her and we’ll get it fixed up real quick.”
Everyone hopped to work, grabbing bucket, soap and supplies. Jo’s eyes stung with unshed tears as the unfairness of her situation hit her. She had caught typhoid and could possibly die. To save her family, and the wagon train, she was about to live in a quarantined shack for the next month with the man who had kidnapped her sister. Not to mention the man she fantasized about every night when she slept.
God could not have thought of a bigger test of her strength and fortitude.
She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself. No sir. She would do what she needed to survive. Declan walked over and held out his arms, waiting for her permission. She closed her eyes and willed herself to be strong.
“I am ready.”
He lifted her with a gentleness she didn’t expect. Jo leaned into his shoulder, her body shaking from fever and pain. It was almost too much. Tears nearly escaped without permission. Jo had to push her mind to think of something else.
The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 Page 2