Her fingers lightly stroked his face. “You look tired from this big trip of yours. Wouldn’t you like to have a nice cool drink and rest a while?”
“Sure would.” He sighed, and his head fell back to rest on the Indian’s chest. “I’m . . . tired.”
“Here, Joe. Let me have the boy.” Cord stepped up beside Sarah and took Danny from the old Indian. “Go on inside with Emma. She’ll see to your needs.”
His gaze riveted on Sarah. “What’s wrong with your brother? Asthma?”
She nodded.
“Pedro.” Cord looked to the Mexican boy who’d walked over just then from the barn. “Ride to town and bring back Doc Saunders pronto. Tell him it’s the Caldwell boy.” He turned to Sarah. “Let’s get Danny upstairs and in bed. He looks worn out.”
Before she could even concur, Cord set off for the house. She shot Emma a bewildered glance before hurriedly following in his wake.
Danny looked so small cradled in Cord’s strong arms, Sarah thought as she ran across the foyer behind them and up the stairs. So frail, and yet so safe and protected. The rapidity with which Cord Wainwright had stepped in and taken charge took her breath away, but in some strange way it was almost a relief to let him assume control.
Though her father and older brothers helped when they could, most of their time was spent trying to eke out a living for them all. Danny’s care, therefore, had mainly been her responsibility. To now share the burden of his terrible illness with a Wainwright, though, was irony of the strangest kind.
Cord paused before one of the upstairs doors. “Open it, will you, Sarah?”
She quickly complied. Hurrying over to the large brass bed that commanded the small room, she turned back the brightly flowered print quilt. Cord lifted him onto the bed, and Sarah stripped Danny down to his undershirt and drawers. Then she plumped up an extra pillow and assisted him in leaning forward against it. At her action, Cord quirked a brow.
“When Danny has an attack,” she said by way of explanation, “he’s much more comfortable sitting up like this. If you’ve got a few more pillows available, that’d help even more to support him.”
“I’ll get you some. Is there anything else we can do for him until the doctor gets here?”
“A pot of steaming water in the room, set close to him, helps him breathe easier.” Sarah hesitantly smiled. “Also, something to sip on. Drinking liquids, something with sugar in it, keeps up his strength.”
“How about cider?”
“C-cider?” Danny straightened, his wan little face brightening with sudden interest. “Could . . . could I, mister?”
Cord gently tousled the boy’s hair. “Sure can, and as much as you want too.” He turned to Sarah. “I’ll be back with everything as soon as it’s all ready.”
A small cough drew Sarah’s attention from the tall man’s smiling countenance. She scooted onto the bed, gathering her brother into her arms. Tenderly, lovingly, she began to rub his back, a soothing ritual Danny always seemed to need during his attacks. With a ragged moan, he crept closer, his little arms encircling her.
“Danny, Danny,” Sarah said with a sigh as, behind her, she heard Cord slip from the room and quietly shut the door behind him. “Whatever possessed you to come here all by yourself? You know how too much dust affects you. I don’t like to see you sick like this.”
“I-I had to,” he explained between fitful, rasping breaths. “Papa didn’t know what to do . . . and he wouldn’t let Caleb or Noah come. I knew if I rode . . . with the tallest mountains on my right . . . I’d find the ranch. I-I missed you so!”
“And I missed you too, honey.” She kissed his clammy forehead.
“You aren’t . . . mad at me, are you? I didn’t mean . . . to make you mad.”
“No, honey.” Sarah struggled to hold back the tears. “I’d never, ever be mad at you. Now, just be quiet and rest. It’ll help you more than anything.”
And please, God, let him get through this, she prayed in an uncharacteristic surge of need for help beyond the powers of man, noting her brother’s blue lips, the labored rise and fall of his chest, and dark smudges of exhaustion beneath his eyes. She knew Danny had been worried about her and wondered if he’d even slept much these past days. That, coupled with the fact he hadn’t even had a chance to get over the last attack necessitating that fateful trip to town, sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine.
Sarah firmly quashed the feeling. They’d always gotten through this before, and would once again. Danny needed her. She wouldn’t fail him. Now, if only Doc Saunders would get here soon . . .
Danny’s condition failed to improve. Cord maintained a steady journey between the boy’s bedside and the kitchen as the pot of steaming water needed replenishing, until Sarah marveled at his patience and persistent dedication. His calm, steady assistance and the concern that burned in his eyes and spilled over into his deep, resonant voice seemed at times to be all that sustained her. Indeed, as Sarah went about her ministrations, Cord’s transformation from harsh jailer to warm, supportive ally was a constant source of wonder.
They were enemies. Yet, as she covertly observed him helping with Danny, it became increasingly difficult to stir the ashes of her animosity back to any semblance of its former intensity. The sight of his dark head bent close to hear her brother’s whispered words, the aura of strength in his tall frame that buoyed her flagging hopes, only served to build the confusing disparity between what she’d imagined him to be and what she now observed.
The earlier enmity died. In its place, a tender gratitude flared to life.
By the time Doc Saunders arrived, Sarah was near exhaustion. Danny’s attempts to clear the choking fluids from his lungs had faded with his waning strength, and each breath seemed to require a superhuman effort from his thin little body. Doc took one look at him and opened his bag. After administering a dose of medicine, he spent the next few hours hovering at Danny’s bedside. Not until the day had grayed to twilight did he finally draw Sarah and Cord aside.
“What in the blazes is going on here?” he demanded, riveting his irate gaze on Sarah. “Why isn’t Danny home where he belongs?”
She flushed. “He came to find me and take me back.”
Doc Saunders rounded next on Cord. “I heard how you dragged Sarah off the day they came to town. This high-handed abduction is starting to get a little out of control, isn’t it? Danny’s now deathly ill, and there’s no telling what would happen if the rest of their family decided now to rescue them. Hasn’t this feud gone far enough? Or are you single-handedly trying to start it all up again?”
A tight look shuttered Cord’s face. “This isn’t the time or place to discuss this. Not that I owe you or anyone an explanation.”
The older man shook his head. “And you’re a young fool. If any harm comes to Danny or Sarah, you’ll rue the day—”
“I already rue the day,” Cord wearily interjected. He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, and turned to Sarah. “I need a cup of coffee.”
She forced a wooden smile to her lips. “It has been a long—”
“Go with him, Sarah,” Doc Saunders ordered. “You’re dead on your feet. The medicine looks like it’s finally working, and you’ve done all you can for the time being.”
“No.” Sarah adamantly shook her head. “Danny needs me here. I-I’ll be all right.”
“And I said go, girl.” Doc gave her a small shove forward. “You’re no good to the boy if you break down. A half hour or so isn’t going to make much difference to anyone but you. Send Emma up with more hot water. If Danny calls for you in the meantime, I promise to have her fetch you.”
Cord took her arm. “Doc’s right. Come downstairs for a bit. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, and it’s past supper. A cup of coffee and a slice of Manuela’s peach pie will do you a world of good.”
The concern she saw reflected in his black eyes mirrored that of the doctor’s. With a small sigh, Sarah relented. “I suppose it’d be ok
ay, but only for a half hour and no more.”
“That’s a good girl.” Doc waved her toward the door. “Now, get along with you.”
Sarah allowed Cord to lead her downstairs. Several lamps had been lit, bathing the kitchen in a warm, cheery light. Emma was busy at the sink, and turned at the sound of their entry.
“A slice of that peach pie for the both of us, Emma,” Cord said over his shoulder as he guided Sarah to the table and pulled out her chair. “And, if you don’t mind, would you take that next pot upstairs and stay with Doc and Danny until we return?”
Sarah sat down. “No pie for me, please. I’m not hungry.”
“Two pieces of pie,” Cord firmly reiterated as he poured out two mugs of coffee. He shoved one under Sarah’s nose. “Cream or sugar?”
“Wh-what?” Sarah lifted a bewildered gaze to him. “What did you say?”
Cord’s expression softened. “I said, do you want cream or sugar in your coffee?”
“B-both please. Two spoonfuls of sugar.”
He smiled. “Coffee as sweet as your disposition, eh?”
The teasing lilt in his voice eased a little of Sarah’s tension. She watched him prepare her coffee then return it to her. “Not lately, I’m afraid.”
She inhaled a long, ragged breath, then paused as Emma laid a huge piece of pie before her and folded her fingers around a fork. A small, grateful smile brightened Sarah’s face as she glanced up at the older woman. “Thank you.”
“A clean plate when I return is all the thanks I need,” Emma whispered before hurrying from the kitchen with another pot of steaming water.
Sarah watched the door swing closed in Emma’s wake, then turned back to the man sitting opposite her. “The medicine. Doc’s visit. I’ll find some way to pay you back.”
His dark, hooded gaze rose from his mug of coffee. “Returning my money would more than repay what you owe.”
“No.” She firmly shook her head. “It wouldn’t. Some of it’s already been spent. But I’ll do my best to return what’s left, if you give your word to leave my family out of it. And then I’ll pay you back for Danny, even if I have to work it off cleaning your house and washing your clothes for the next year.”
Cord’s lips twitched as he set down his mug. “I appreciate your offer, but I’d rather just look upon what I’m doing for Danny as something one good neighbor does for another.”
“Except that the Caldwells and Wainwrights aren’t good neighbors, and probably never will be.” The bone-weary slump to Sarah’s shoulders straightened, and a proud light flared in her eyes. “No, it’ll be as I said. I will pay you back, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
“Suit yourself.” He paused. “You and your family really needed that money, didn’t you?”
“Yes, we did.” Sarah eyed him cautiously, not certain where he was going with this potentially inflammatory topic. “Danny’s been sick so much these past years. Every time we managed to scrape up some money, it had to go for his medicines and doctor bills. It got to the point we were buying even necessities on credit, and finally the shops began refusing us any more. I tried everything, doing laundry, ironing, mending other people’s clothes, and Papa and my older brothers started taking odd jobs in between their mining, just to bring in extra money. But instead of getting better, things only seemed to get worse.”
Her hand touched his. “But it was still wrong, no matter how desperate we were when we robbed you. I knew better. Sometimes, though, it’s easier to give in than keep on fighting to do what you know is right. And I’m ashamed to admit this was one time that I—”
Suddenly realizing she was about to heap the blame on her father, Sarah clamped her mouth shut. Though it seemed she was always waging one battle or another with her sire over what was right and wrong, that was family business and not to be shared with others. As was her admission of finally caving in to her father’s demands that she assist them with the robbery.
“What, Sarah?” Cord supplied when she hesitated. “That this was one time when your father finally browbeat you into helping him with yet another of his plots to avenge himself on us? Is that what you were going to say?”
Anger swelled at his harsh if accurate appraisal, and she almost snapped back some cutting reply. Then the memory of all Cord had done today for Danny returned.
“It doesn’t matter why I helped,” she softly replied. “What matters is I’m sorry for it, and I give you my word it’ll never happen again.”
A dark brow arched. “So, what are you getting at here? That I just forget a crime was ever committed if you return the money?”
She felt like a fool. Her face flushed as hot blood filled her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
He held up his hand to silence her. “Get a message to your father. Tell him I won’t press charges if he returns the money and agrees to stop his vendetta against us. My father won’t like it, but it is my money.”
Relief flooded her. A hesitant smile touched her lips. “Yes. Yes, I can send a note with Doc Saunders. He’ll see that Papa gets it.” She gave Cord’s hand a quick squeeze then, realizing how forward such an action was, quickly pulled away. “Thank you,” she said, embarrassed all over again. “You won’t regret it.”
“Regret it?” He chuckled and rubbed his side. “Why, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Her cheeks pinked once again to a most becoming shade, and then she hung her head. “Now you’re teasing me.”
Teasing you? Cord thought. Yes, in one sense I guess I am, but in another . . .
An impulse to stroke the pale, silken head shot through him. An urge to stand up, walk around the table, and gather her into his arms grew until he thought the very desire would physically move him to action. Curious feelings—a fierce protectiveness and something more—ignited a fire in his blood, drawing him toward the slim, delicate girl who sat across the table.
Sarah wasn’t to blame for any of this. That surprising revelation had been gradual in the coming, but seeing her in the past hours with her little brother had finally driven the point home. Or rather, finally driven it through his thick, stubborn skull, he added with a grimace.
She was an innocent pawn in the twisted, hopeless lives of two men who’d take their mutual hatred to the grave, dragging down all who were close to them in the process. Anger boiled through Cord. He at least had a chance, had left while there was still hope of rebuilding his life. Sarah, however, might not ever have that opportunity. An intense if misguided loyalty to her family would eventually destroy the beautiful woman-child, grinding down her fierce pride and boundless determination into an anguished despair.
Cord recognized the fate that awaited her, and it sickened him. She—and her little brother—deserved better. Somehow, some way, he would see that they got it. Money in itself had never meant all that much to him. It was just a means to an end. In time, when he returned to New York, he would send her some. That he could and would give her but, he cautioned himself, nothing more.
He wasn’t fool enough to deny the growing attraction he felt for Sarah Caldwell, even as he forced himself to slam shut the portals of his heart. Yes, he’d help her when the opportunity arose, but no good could ever come of anything else.
The words of comfort he’d intended to offer her, however, died on his lips. The moment wasn’t right. There was little between them but a wary truce born from Danny’s need. In time, though, maybe some kind of friendship would grow and she’d learn to trust him. Then he’d offer his help . . .
“There’s one more matter we need to discuss.” Emotion deepened Cord’s voice until it rumbled as he turned his increasingly disturbing thoughts to a topic even more upsetting.
Sarah lifted her head, her green eyes once more wary. “Yes?”
“Danny’s presence here complicates things. I guess now he’s also my prisoner. Unfortunately, until I hear from your father, the only secure place to keep the both of you is still the cellar.” A
t the expression of horror that swept over Sarah’s face, he paused. “I don’t want Danny in the cellar any more than you do. For that matter, I’d rather not have to put you back in there, either. But for that to happen, you’ll have to meet me halfway.”
She studied him carefully, and Cord could tell exactly when comprehension struck. “What do you want from me?” she asked.
“Your word that you won’t try to escape.” He cut her off before she could put voice to the look of protest that flared in her eyes. “Be sensible, Sarah. Think about it. I know you wouldn’t leave without Danny, and he’ll be too weak to go anywhere for at least a few days. By then we’ll have either heard from your father or Gabe will be back. Can’t you give me your word until then?”
“You’d take the word of a Caldwell?”
His gaze locked with hers. “Yes, if that Caldwell is you.”
He was right, Sarah thought as she sat there staring at Cord Wainwright. The only thing that mattered was Danny, and she didn’t dare take him anywhere for a good many days. Besides, her brother would get excellent care here, not to mention food far more nourishing than they could ever hope to provide at home.
No, with Danny now in the middle of this increasingly sticky mess, her choice was made. She’d agree to almost anything for her little brother. Sarah sucked in a deep, fortifying breath and nodded.
“You have my word.”
“Good.” A relieved grin lightened the tense lines of Cord’s ruggedly handsome face. He shoved her piece of pie toward her. “Now, eat. You need your strength. It could be a long night.”
The door swung open just then, and Emma walked in. Her glance met Sarah’s.
“Danny’s doing a lot better. He’s breathing easy now, and Doc says he thinks the crisis is over. He said you could stay down here longer if you’d like—”
Before the housekeeper could finish, Sarah sprung from her chair and dashed across the kitchen. Behind her, she heard Cord chuckle.
Heart of the Rockies Collection Page 6