A Careless Wind (Kansas Crossroads Book 7)

by Amelia C. Adams

  Dr. Wayment raised an eyebrow. “Not anything?”

  “Well, no. Not anymore.” She dropped her gaze again.

  “All right. You have no secret. I assume, however, that you’d like to keep this little conversation between us?”

  “Yes, please. I’d appreciate that.”

  He chuckled again. “Very well. We never had this talk, and I’ll be standing by as soon as the patient arrives.”

  “Thank you.” Rachel turned on her heel and fled, wondering if she’d ever felt so ridiculous in her entire life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nicholas chafed at the thought of being laid up a single minute longer than he already had been, but the small-town doctor had just told him to prepare for a month-long convalescence at least. A month? A month without working, without wages? Mr. Jensen had given him his pay packet, along with the promise of a job when he returned, and while those things were nice, they didn’t take the place of regular, steady work. What was he going to do with himself for a month? Learn to knit?

  Ho had insisted on coming with him to Topeka to make sure he was properly settled in. His wife would be fine back at the camp and didn’t mind his absence. Nicholas saw no reason to refuse the help—he could certainly use it, now that he was on crutches. He couldn’t even carry his own bag.

  They waited on the platform by the train station. Ho wanted him to sit down, but Nicholas couldn’t hold still. His eyes scanned the horizon for the train, eager for it to come so he could begin this next phase—the healing phase, the short pause in his new life.

  Finally, the train came into view. Nicholas leaned on his crutches as it drew nearer, ignoring his shortness of breath. The doctor had said that would persist until his ribs healed. It was more of an annoyance than anything, but a very real, very painful annoyance.

  He’d forgotten about the steps he’d need to be able to climb in order to board the train. He held back, watching the other passengers load up, wondering just how to go about this. If he put any weight on his leg, the pain was nearly unbearable, and his knee gave out. This seemed like an impossible task. But then Ho stepped forward and spoke with the conductor, who nodded and held up a finger.

  “He’ll get you on the train,” Ho said as he returned to Nicholas’s side. “He has a way.”

  “What sort of way?” Nicholas started to imagine all sorts of different scenarios, one involving a rope-and-pulley system. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  A moment later, the conductor approached, a smile on his face. “Well, hello, Nicholas. You’re looking slightly the worse for wear since the last time I saw you.”

  Nicholas blinked. “Mr. Dupree! It’s good to see you. Yes, I’ve had a slight accident. Heading to the Brody to recover. How have you been, sir?”

  “Happier than I ever imagined. Miss Hampton and I were married a short time ago, and I carried her off to Wichita.”

  “Congratulations.” Nicholas balanced his weight and held out a hand. The conductor shook it heartily.

  “Now, I understand from your friend here that you need a little help boarding.”

  “I do. Whatever you can suggest.”

  “We have a couple of strong men who load and unload the baggage. They can lift you up to the level of the top step and boost you right in. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds good, sir, but I’d hate to put anyone out.”

  Mr. Dupree’s eyes twinkled. “So you’d rather be stranded here than reaching your destination?”

  Nicholas chuckled, realizing how foolish he was being. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to being so helpless. Thank you.”

  The conductor moved down the length of the train to the baggage car and returned just moments later with two men who certainly did look up to the challenge. Nicholas worked his way over to the doorway of the passenger car, and just as Mr. Dupree had said, the men hoisted Nicholas up onto their shoulders and deposited him safely inside the train. From there, he was able to grasp the back of the nearest seat and pull himself upright.

  “Thank you,” he said to Mr. Dupree once the man had boarded too. “I might have wasted all day trying to arrive at a solution.”

  “We encounter all sorts of unusual situations on the train,” Mr. Dupree said. “Yours is hardly the most unusual. Get settled, and when we reach Topeka, I’ll see you to the hotel. I wouldn’t mind some cherry pie.”

  Nicholas and Ho found their seats, and before too much longer, they were on their way. Nicholas tried to relax into his seat, but the pain in his ribs wouldn’t allow for much relaxing, and he was rather keyed up as it was. He’d be seeing Rachel again, for good or for bad.

  “You will rest at the hotel,” Ho said, smiling and nodding. “Then you will come back to work.”

  “That’s my plan.” Nicholas rested his head on the back of the seat. Getting back to work as soon as possible . . . earning money, sending it home . . . maybe building a little house . . .

  And what about a wife to go in that house? He blinked at the sudden thought. Of course he wanted to get married, but after Rachel, that dream had become insubstantial, wispy, like one of the clouds just above the horizon. He’d find time to get married someday, but he wasn’t eager to start looking. He figured his wife would appear when the time was right. And if she didn’t, maybe that was a sign that it wasn’t meant to be.

  He closed his eyes, the vibration of the train giving him a slight headache. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long ride, and he’d be able to get off this contraption soon. The doctor said he’d sent a telegram to Giselle—Nicholas knew she would be waiting when he arrived. Hopefully, she’d be waiting with a hot meal and a nice soft bed.

  ***

  The two men from the baggage car lifted Nicholas down to the ground at the Topeka train station, and he thanked them both wholeheartedly. They refused the coins he offered, saying it was their pleasure, and then Mr. Dupree ushered him toward the hotel. Nicholas was worn out, far more than he’d expected to be, and all he wanted was to sleep for a million years.

  As he worked his way up the hotel sidewalk, though, he glanced up and saw Giselle waiting for him on the porch. The nap could wait—first, he’d need to reassure his sister over and over again that he was all right. He knew her well—she’d never be at peace until she’d heard it from his own lips a dozen times.

  “Nicholas,” she cried out as soon as she saw him.

  “I’m all right,” he called back. “I’m coming—just give me a second here.”

  When he reached the base of the stairs, he paused. He imagined he could handle them if he shifted his weight just right, but before he had the chance to formulate a plan, Mr. Dupree was on one side and Mr. Brody on the other, and they held his elbows while they lifted him up to the top.

  “Thank you,” Nicholas said. “I appreciate the help.”

  “You’ll get a bit more when it’s time to see your room,” Mr. Brody said. “You’re not to worry—we have plenty of men around here to lend you a hand.”

  Giselle wrapped her arms around her brother’s neck and gave him a tight squeeze. He had to shift his balance to keep from being pulled over. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said with a quiver in her voice.

  “Of course I’m all right. I’m always all right, aren’t I?” He grinned, hoping to chase away whatever last shreds of fear she might still be carrying. Everything would remind them of Daniel from now on. Everything would bring back that pain. He wished it wasn’t so.

  Giselle stepped back, allowing him to move toward the dining room. Now that the train passengers had all entered and the flow of human traffic had decreased, he had more room, and it was easier to negotiate the hallway. He took a seat, looked up, and there was Rachel.

  He realized that his imagination was playing tricks on him, but from this angle, it looked for all the world like the sunlight coming in through the windows was focused solely on her hair. She nearly glowed, a halo of gold shining around her head. She met his gaze, but he could detect no emotio
ns there—was she happy to see him? Dismayed? Did she even care at all? He couldn’t tell, and that alone nearly drove him mad. She had to feel something, and he had to know what it was.

  Ho sat down beside him, and Mr. Dupree took a seat on the other side of the table. A girl came and took their order—he thought she said her name was Margaret, but he wasn’t really listening. He hadn’t taken his eyes or his attention off Rachel. After a moment, she moved off into the kitchen, and Margaret repeated her question.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  She smiled. “I asked what I could get for you. Our cook came up with a wonderful recipe this morning—ham with an apricot glaze.”

  “That sounds good. I’ll take one of those.”

  Ho and Mr. Dupree also placed their orders while Nicholas stared at the kitchen door. She had to come back out—she couldn’t stay in there forever. Or maybe she could—she was stubborn, that one.

  When she finally did emerge, she didn’t look his way at all. Instead, she moved around a table on the far side of the room, setting plates in front of the diners. She was so determined not to look at him, he could feel the intensity from where he sat. Well, he was staying at the Brody now, and she’d have no choice but to acknowledge him sooner or later.

  Chapter Twelve

  “So, he’s back,” Sarah said as she placed a dishtowel over the last cherry pie.

  “He is indeed.” Rachel leaned up against the kitchen table, suddenly exhausted. “And he looks fairly well. He’s on crutches, of course, but he’s able to use them well, and he can feed himself. It could be so much worse.”

  “It is a blessing.” Sarah put the pie on the shelf, then turned to face her friend. “Sit down. Tell me how you are.”

  Rachel sat at the table, then laid her head on her crossed arms in front of her. “I don’t know how I am.”

  “You’re glad to see him, aren’t you?”

  “I’m glad he’s all right. I’m not sure if I’m glad to see him.”

  Sarah chuckled. “I think you’re glad, and you feel guilty because of it. I still haven’t figured out that part of your story. Just what is it that’s eating you alive? You said you parted ways as friends and with his blessing. Why this animosity now?”

  Rachel straightened back up. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. When I see him or when I think about him, it’s as though a giant wall of thorns grows up to cover my heart. It simply happens—I’m not even aware of it until I’ve lashed out at him.”

  “Does it really just happen, or did you plant the seeds for those thorns a long time ago?”

  Rachel scowled. “You aren’t supposed to be smarter than I am.”

  Sarah lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize that was a rule here at the hotel.”

  “It should be. I’ll suggest it to Elizabeth.” Rachel traced a line on the tablecloth with her finger. “All I know is that it feels wrong somehow to open myself back up to Nicholas, even if it’s just to say hello. I’m betraying Daniel all over again.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time you stopped punishing yourself?” Sarah reached out and touched Rachel’s hand. “What’s done is done. The past is in the past. All you can do now is learn from it and make different choices in the future. That’s all any of us can do. If you keep dredging up every regrettable mistake you’ve ever made and wearing them like a string of pearls around your neck, you’re just weighing yourself down for no good reason.”

  “You’re right. You’re always right.” Rachel passed a hand across her face. “And next you’ll be telling me that I should go upstairs and talk to him.”

  Sarah shrugged. “You’re the only one who can make that choice. I’m just sitting here, having no opinions whatsoever.”

  “Yes, I can see just how few opinions you have. I remember when you first got here—you were a quiet little thing. What happened?”

  Sarah smiled. “I started spending time with all of you.”

  Rachel stood up. “I’ll go talk to him. I really will. I just don’t know if it will be today or tomorrow or when.”

  “Being willing is a good first step.”

  Rachel tucked a loose strand of hair back in her braid as she walked into the dining room to make sure it was ready for the next meal. It would be easy enough to climb the stairs and say hello to Nicholas—but what about everything that might be said afterwards?

  ***

  When Nicholas woke up from his nap, he didn’t know where he was. He looked around in a bit of a panic, trying to remember what had brought him here. Then he saw Ho curled up on a pallet on the floor, and he remembered. He was at the Brody Hotel, and his silly friend had refused a room of his own, saying he’d prefer sleeping near Nicholas. He had to be grateful for that kind of loyalty, but he did wish he felt like he deserved it.

  The door to his room opened slowly, and Giselle stuck her head inside. “Oh, good. You’re awake. The doctor’s here and would like to examine you.”

  Nicholas yawned, then nodded. “All right. Let him in, please.”

  Giselle stepped out of the way, and a tall man with dark hair entered the room. He carried a black bag, which he set on a chair by the side of the bed. “Hello. My name is Dr. Wayment. I understand you’re Nicholas Hardy.”

  “That’s right.” Nicholas reached out and received the doctor’s offered hand. He noticed Ho slip out of the room—probably to give them some privacy.

  “Tell me about your injury,” Dr. Wayment said.

  “I was struck across the shin with a log driven full of spikes, and then I was stepped on by a mule.”

  Dr. Wayment shook his head. “That’s rather an interesting combination. Where shall we start? The leg or the other?”

  “The leg is fine.” Nicholas reached down and pulled up his pant leg. His shin was bandaged in several layers of gauze, which the doctor removed gently. When he came down to the last layer, the one that was stuck on with dried blood, he took some water from the pitcher in the corner of the room and moistened the material before pulling it away. It still hurt, but not as badly as it would have otherwise.

  “I see you’ve been stitched up,” Dr. Wayment said, peering at the wounds.

  “That’s right. The doctor cleaned out the gashes and then put in a few stitches. He said the rest would heal on their own, but there were a few that needed a little help.” Nicholas internally shuddered at the memory. That procedure had been painful.

  “It looks like he did a good job. I’m concerned about infection, though. Tell me how he cleaned out the gashes. Did he use any sort of soap or acid?”

  Nicholas shook his head. “I think he just used water.”

  “All right. I want to check on you daily to make sure nothing’s developing that shouldn’t be. We’ll change your bandages and keep everything as clean and dry as possible.” Dr. Wayment pulled a fresh roll of gauze from his bag and wrapped Nicholas’s shin from knee to ankle, much as it had been before. “This goes beyond skin abrasions, however. I also saw evidence of deep bruising.”

  “That’s right. The log collided with my leg pretty hard.” That was an understatement, but Giselle was still in the room, and he didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily.

  “Do you have difficulty putting weight on your leg?”

  “I do. It’s quite painful to step on it.”

  Dr. Wayment motioned toward the crutches leaning up against the wall. “I see you’ve been outfitted. Are you getting along on those pretty well?”

  “I am now. The first few minutes were somewhat precarious, though.”

  Dr. Wayment laughed. “They are for most people. All right now, tell me about getting stepped on by a mule.”

  Nicholas shifted his position and lifted his shirt. He had more bandages wrapped around his torso, mostly to hold the ribs steady. Dr. Wayment helped unwrap them, and Giselle stepped just out of visual range. He smiled—his sister would melt away of embarrassment if she saw him shirtless.

  “You’ve got some pretty significan
t bruising here,” the doctor commented. “Broken ribs?”

  “Two, from what the other fellow said.”

  Dr. Wayment nodded. “I’m not going to put you through the pain of another examination just to verify that number. We’ll bandage you up similarly to how you just were, and if there are additional broken ribs, they’ll be supported as well. Hurts to breathe?”

  “It does, but I’m doing as little of that as possible.”

  The doctor threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t imagine you’ll be able to keep that up for long. Hopefully, within a few days, you’ll be able to take deeper breaths without pain. As that happens, we’ll loosen the bandages a bit and allow you a little more freedom of movement.” He began winding up the bandages and then paused. “Did you hit your head? Any other injuries that perhaps aren’t as visible?”

  “I believe not, but then again, it’s somewhat of a blur. I blacked out after the mule stepped on me.”

  “Hmm.” Dr. Wayment set down the bandages and moved to the other side of the bed, closer to Nicholas’s head. He felt along the hairline, then moved systematically over Nicholas’s scalp. When he reached one particular part, a sharp jolt of pain shot down Nicholas’s neck and into his shoulder, causing him to gasp.

  “I’m sorry about that.” The doctor carefully separated Nicholas’s hair, apparently taking a closer look at the scalp. “You have quite a bump here. You didn’t notice that until just now?”

  “I was a bit distracted by the other injuries,” Nicholas said, still recoiling from that sudden pain. It had made him nauseated, it was so severe. “The other doctor didn’t do a head examination, and I didn’t think to ask him.”

  “I see.” Dr. Wayment reached over and grabbed his bag, taking some gauze and a bottle of liquid from it. “I’m going to clean up a small abrasion here, and we’ll add this to the list of things we’ll check when I stop by each day. Have you had any dizziness or nausea?”