by Sarah Winn
Mrs. Coyler smiled down at them. “In that case, Alice and I can go downstairs and see about getting something to eat.”
Remembering his manners, Toby said, “Thank you Grandmother and Alice for helping me get the blood off.”
Alice nodded and Mrs. Coyler said, “You’re welcome, Toby. But you better hurry or we might eat all the food.” She laid the boy’s clothing she was holding on the bed, turned, and left the room. Alice followed closely after her.
When they were gone, Toby stood, letting the towel fall to the floor. He planted his fists against his hips and said, “I don’t want to wear the clothes they picked out.”
His belligerent expression reminded her of his disobedience earlier in the day. She made her voice stern as she said, “You’ve had about all the coddling you’re going to get out of me today, young man. If you had not sneaked out the house this morning, none of this would have happened. Your papa would not be laying downstairs right now having a doctor dig bullets out of his body. I have told you and told you to never leave the house without permission. You ever do it again and—and I don’t know what kind of punishment I’ll give you, but I promise it will be severe.”
Toby’s bottom lip began to tremble. “I—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. It’s poor Gerald who’s paying for your actions in blood and pain.”
Tears ran down Toby’s cheeks.
“And don’t start crying.” She handed him his underdrawers. “Put these on. You dressed yourself handily enough this morning. You can start doing it all the time.”
He was a bit clumsy getting his feet into the legs of the garment, and once it was up around his waist, she had to tie the tapes for him, to save time. But she would not help as he struggled into the undershirt, then the trousers, and finally the shirt. She did do the buttons of the shirt, but as she did them, she silently vowed to devote herself to teaching the boy to be more self-sufficient, so he would be less of a burden on his step-father.
Of course, Toby wasn’t the only one who had taken advantage of Gerald. She was worse. She had trapped the poor man into a marriage he didn’t want, and saddled him with another man’s child—a child she had let become whiney and self-indulgent. And now Gerald had almost died saving that disobedient child’s life. She had to blink back her own tears as she thought of all she owed Gerald.
She took Toby downstairs to the back-dining room, but rather than join those around the table, she left the boy in his grandmother’s charge and returned to the front part of the house. She paced back and forth in the hallway, going from the door of the bedroom to that of the parlor, listening for any sounds that would indicate what was happening inside. All was quiet.
Finally, the doctor came out of the bedroom. Ellen rushed up to him. “Is it over? Is he all right?”
The doctor smiled briefly and nodded. “I got all the lead out and stitched up the larger wounds. He should be all right after a few days’ bed rest—unless infection develops. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on him.”
A swoosh of air left Ellen’s body and she leaned against the wall for support. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“From what I’ve heard, your husband is a very courageous man: He saved the boy and took two bloodthirsty criminals from our midst. You should be very proud of him, Mrs. Osborne.”
“I am, believe me, I am. We’re serving luncheon in the back of the house. Would you like to join the others before going back to town?”
“Thank you, no. I have other patients to see. I left a bottle of laudanum on the bedside table. Give the Captain a teaspoon full and wash it down with water, when he complains of the pain, but don’t give it to him more than once every four hours.”
“I understand, and thank you again.” She saw the man to the door and then hurried to the bedroom. Gerald was asleep, his chest covered in a swath of white bandages. Mr. Sam sat in a chair beside the bed.
Ellen went to him, laid her hand on the older man’s rounded shoulder, and leaned close to his ear. “Thank you for staying with him,” she said softly. “I just couldn’t watch the doctor dig the bullets out.”
Mr. Sam patted her hand. “Just as well, Missus. I had to lift him so the doctor could put on the bandages. You couldn’t have done that.”
“Well, I can sit with him now. There’s food in the kitchen. You go help yourself.”
He smiled and nodded. “My stomach has been grumbling.” He stood and gave her forearm an encouraging squeeze before leaving the room.
Ellen sat in the chair he had vacated and watched Gerald’s chest rise and fall with even breaths. Then she clasped her hands together, bowed her head, and prayed for his recovery.
Chapter 22
Gerald tried to turn into a more comfortable position and immediately became aware of numerous sharp pains in his body.
What the?
He woke up and remembered being peppered with buckshot. Then he saw Ellen sitting beside the bed and leaning toward him with a worried frown.
“I’m all right,” he said, wanting to erase her worries.
She reached out and cradled his cheek in her palm. Then she smiled briefly. “You don’t feel feverish. That’s a good sign.”
Oh, she was just checking to see if I’m feverish. He had hoped she was being affectionate, not that he could have done much about it if she had been.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
He thought for a moment and then said, “Hungry.”
She actually laughed. “That’s a good sign, too. Will you be all right by yourself while I run to the kitchen?”
“Why not ring the bell?”
“What bell?”
“See the cord hanging behind the head of the bed? That’s connected to a wire that runs to a bell in the hallway outside the kitchen. It was installed after my aunt became ill.”
Ellen hesitantly approached the cord. She gave it a gentle tug and then a more vigorous one. In just a few minutes Alice came rushing through the doorway. “Is something wrong, Missus?”
“Not at all, but Mr. Osborne is awake and hungry. Is there something light we can serve him?”
Alice nodded. “Mrs. Moore has broth simmering on the back of the stove. I’ll bring some right away.”
Before she could turn and race back to the kitchen, Gerald said, “Can you find something a little more substantial than broth, Alice?”
She looked at him, and he realized she had avoided doing so until this moment. Alice had entered his room many times, in pursuit of her duties, while he was still in bed. Why was she acting so skittish now? Was she afraid of seeing him at death’s door?
“We’ve got some fresh-baked bread, Mr. Osborne. Don’t you worry, I’ll fetch you a nice tray.” She smiled as much as Alice ever smiled and raced from the room.
As her footsteps faded, he asked, “Is it just me or was she acting strangely?”
“She’s worried about you, Gerald. Everyone in the house—on the entire farm is.”
He frowned as he tried to remember what the doctor had said while he’d been treating Gerald. “Did the doctor tell you something he didn’t tell me?”
She smiled and reached over to pat his good shoulder, “He told me you will be fine after a few days’ rest.”
Gerald sighed with relief, but then Ellen washed away her reassurances with a flood of tears. Hiding her face with a handkerchief, she gulped out. “I’m so sorry this happened to you—so sorry you’re having to go through this.” Footsteps sounded in the hallway and Ellen quickly moved away from his side, turning to hide her face, while she wiped and sniffed away the tears.
Mrs. Coyler and Toby appeared in the open doorway. “I hope this visit isn’t too soon, but Toby very much wishes to speak to the Captain,” Mrs. Coyler said.
As they entered the room and walked toward the bed, Toby stared at Gerald, especially at the pink-stained bandages around his chest, with large, troubled eyes.
“Are you all right, son?” Gerald asked.
&
nbsp; The boy looked Gerald in the eyes and said in a strained voice, “I’m sorry you got hurt because I was bad.”
He looked so dejected, Gerald wanted to make him feel better. “The bad men hurt me, not you.”
“But I went outside without asking anybody. Mama said that’s why it happened.”
Gerald glanced at Ellen but she was still hiding her face. Was this why she was so upset about him getting shot? Did she blame Toby and by extension herself for it happening? “Well, yes, you did disobey. But you’re sorry for it, and I’m sure you won’t do anything like that again.”
Gerald wanted to reach out to the boy, but he was standing next to Gerald’s injured side. “Come around the bed, son, so we can shake hands on that.”
Toby seemed intrigued by the idea and rushed to obey. His grandmother helped him climb onto the bed, where he knelt and solemnly held out his hand. Gerald clasp the hand, covering it entirely with his much larger one, and moved it up and down two times. “This is a gentleman’s agreement. Don’t break it.”
“I won’t, Papa.”
Fortunately, the jiggle of dishes on a tray, disturbed the moment, or Gerald might have disgraced himself by tearing up, too. Mr. Moore carried in the food tray, Alice brought a tea tray, and Mrs. Moore had tagged along for no apparent reason. Gerald knew they had really come to see for themselves how he was fairing. Like it or not, these servants were part of his family.
Ellen, with her tears wiped away, ordered Toby off the bed. While the food was being set up on a bedside table, she turned to Mrs. Coyler. “Where’s your husband?”
“The magistrate from Hemsley sent a note asking if he could interview Gerald, so Silas and Mr. Samuels went into town to talk to him. Since they were witnesses, they hope they can answer the man’s questions in Gerald’s stead.”
“Good,” Ellen said. “Gerald is certainly in no condition to go into town. Whatever was the man thinking?”
Mrs. Moore raised her eyebrows. “He’s not the only one. That silly man who writes for the Hemsley Weekly News came to the door asking to talk to Mr. Gerald. Mr. Moore very firmly sent him on his way.”
Gerald could understand the magistrate wanting to talk to him, after all, he had shot two men, but he couldn’t imagine why a journalist would. Did people think he was some sort of vicious killer?
At Ellen’s request, Mr. Moore placed another pillow under Gerald’s head so he could eat more easily, and then she shooed the others out of the room. She stood beside the bed and fed him like he was a baby, and when he complained about the thinness of the broth, she tore off bits of crust from the bread, soaked it in the broth and fed those to him. She lavished him with care, but did so in such a somber manner, that he began to worry that something was wrong—something she didn’t want him to know about.
Far sooner than he expected, his appetite dwindled. After she pulled the extra pillow from under his head, he tried to turn to a more comfortable position, but the pull of the many wounds caused so much pain that he groaned and lay flat on his back again.
Ellen was instantly by his side. “It’s been long enough. Would you like more of the pain medicine?”
Knowing his only choices were to take the drug or lay there and hurt, he agreed. And so, the rest of the day and night went: coming awake, taking a little food and water, hurting, taking the medicine, and sleeping it off. Ellen was always there when he awoke.
* * * *
The next morning, he felt better. Especially after the doctor came, changed his dressings, and assured him the wounds were healing nicely. After the doctor left, Mr. Coyler and Sam came up to report on their interview with the magistrate.
“I explained that you had no choice but to shoot those two men,” Coyler said.
“Did the man on the horse die?” Gerald asked.
“Yes, he did. And it turns out he was the investigator I hired to find Ellen. I fired him after I discovered he lied to me, and he was pretty mad about it, so coming after Toby was his way of getting even with me. No telling what the villain would have done, if you hadn’t been there.”
That made Gerald feel a little better. Still—he had killed two men. “Who was the other fellow?”
Sam spoke up. “He was a local, Zeke Mallory. Worked at Salter’s Stables. That Blake fellow must have hired him.”
“I’ve seen that man around town.” Somehow, knowing one of the men he had shot made Gerald feel worse.
“He wasn’t very smart. I can see how it would be easy for a fast-talking city fellow to lead him into trouble.” Sam had been in the army, so he understood that a man would feel badly about killing someone, even if he had no choice.
“Well, we better let you get some more rest,” Mr. Coyler said. “There will have to be an official hearing about the incident, but everybody in town knows what happened and why, so don’t you worry about a thing.”
After having more broth and bread for lunch, Gerald finally agreed to take another dose of the pain medicine and drifted off the sleep. When he awoke, Ellen was sitting by the window, darning one of his shirts. Her concentration was fixed on her chore, but her expression seemed tense—unhappy. It occurred to him that she had looked like that at lot lately, ever since she’d had her private conversation with Mrs. Coyler.
Was knowing about Philip’s death making her regret her relationship with Gerald? There was only one way to find out. “What’s wrong, Ellen?”
The sound of his voice startled her so badly that she jabbed the needle into one of her fingers. She looked down at the drop of blood that formed on the fingertip and then put it in her mouth and sucked on it for a moment.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said.
She took her finger out of her mouth. “You should be. And nothing is wrong with me. I was just concentrating on my work.”
“You work too much. Come over here and stretch out for a while.”
She looked as if she might argue with him, but then she set her mending aside, and did as he’d suggested. She stretched out beside him, adjusted her skirt several times, and lay there straight and stiff.
“I’m going to be all right, Ellen. The doctor said I was doing well.”
She stared up at the ceiling as she said, “I know. But you could have died, and it’s all my fault.”
“Your fault? How is it your fault.”
She finally turned and looked at him. “If I had not come to you asking for help, this would not have happened.”
“Ellen, it was my choice to help you and Toby.”
“Not really. I know Philip died saving your life. You really had no choice.”
So, what he had dreaded was a reality. She knew how Philip had died and must hate Gerald for it. But why was she blaming herself? “What exactly do you know?”
“The Coylers got the particulars about his death from the War Office. Bess assumed I knew, too, and mentioned it.”
“I’m sorry you found out.”
“Why? Don’t I deserve to know how my first husband died?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to hear the details.”
In a near whisper, she asked, “Did he suffer greatly?”
“No. He took a bullet in the head and died instantly.”
Her frown increased. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to know that? I’m glad he didn’t suffer.”
“I guess I didn’t want you to blame me for his death.”
She looked surprised by that statement. “Did you shoot him?”
Gerald vigorously shook his head. “Of course not!”
“Then why would I blame you?”
He remained silent for a long moment, but finally decided she had a right to know the full story. “Early in the charge, I was hit in the elbow by a piece of shrapnel. The pain and shock caused me to fall from my horse. My right arm was completely useless. The only way I managed to get to my feet was to tuck my right hand under my belt.
“By then there were a lot of riderless horses on the field, and I hoped I might
catch one.
“But the animals were crazed by fear and it was impossible for me to hang on to one in my weakened state. Philip saw me and came to help. He brought his horse to a stop, hooked his arm with my uninjured one, and tried to swing me up onto the back of his horse. Then he was hit.
“Because our arms were linked together, he fell toward me, and we both landed on the ground, with his body on top of mine. By then I was so weak from loss of blood that I couldn’t roll him off me. I laid there for hours, going in and out of consciousness, knowing I was dying, and wishing I would go ahead and do it. Eventually, I heard voices and called out. It was our men looking for survivors. They carried me back to a field hospital where they said they had no choice but to amputate my arm. They also said, that if Philip had not been laying on top of me, I surely would have bled to death.
“So, yes, I do owe him a great debt. He died trying to save my life, and then saved it after he was dead.” Gerald hadn’t looked at her while he told the last part of the story, but the bed began to shake, and he glanced over and saw her face turned away from him, and her body jerking as she smothered sobs with a handkerchief.
“You see, I shouldn’t have told you all of this,” he said.
She sniffed a few times before speaking. “I wish I had known earlier. I never would have forced you to marry me.”
“What? You didn’t force me. As I remember, I had to talk you into it.”
She blew her nose. “But you had no choice. It was the only way to keep the Coylers from taking Toby away from me.”
“If you’ll recall, I was quick to jump to that conclusion. Now that I’ve met them and talked to them, I see they are reasonable people. Maybe explaining the situation was all we needed to do, but I wanted to marry you. Sure, I owed a great debt to Philip, but I had been lonely as hell after coming home from the war and had begun to think I would be so for the rest of my life.
“The first time I saw you, I thought you were pretty. The longer I knew you the more beautiful you became—on the inside as well as the outside. I actually felt guilty for wanting you, but then you seemed to want me, too, and I thought I had found heaven.” He caught her hand and brought it up and kissed her palm.