Esteban nodded and his black eyes flashed. "He won't let Chase die. Ellos son hermanos."
"They're brothers?" Early repeated, staring at the boy.
"Si. He told me this up in the canyon when I teach him to make his hondo sing," he replied, referring to the sound the lariat made when spun correctly. "They are not brothers of blood. But Chase's mother is the wife of Elliot's father. Even before that, they were friends for many years. Son hermanos del corazon."
Brothers of the heart. Libby stared at the boy, wondering how many other secrets Chase and Elliot had kept from her. How could she have thought she loved a man she knew not at all?
"Ma?" Tad asked in a small voice. "You ain't mad at Chase anymore, are ya?"
Libby's arms tightened around her son and she kissed his cheek, avoiding the question.
Just then, the door to Libby's room swung open and Elliot came out, wiping his hands on a towel. His sleeves were rolled up against his tanned arms. He looked exhausted, but relieved. As one, the men and Libby rose expectantly to meet him.
"Well, it's about time," Early grumbled impatiently. "How is he?"
"I got the bullet out," El answered with a tired smile. "He was lucky. His shoulder blade deflected it upward and so it missed his lung. It took some digging to get it out."
Libby let her eyes drift shut in thankful prayer.
"I gave him a few drops of laudanum," El went on, looking pointedly at Libby. "He can't be moved. What we have to watch for now is any sign of infection. Just pray it doesn't happen."
"He can stay where he is," Libby assured him. "I can share Tad's room."
Early rubbed a hand over the suspicious moisture in his eyes, then picked up his hat and clapped El on the shoulder. "A doc..." He grinned. "Hell, I should'a guessed by them hands of yours. They ain't never seen the raw side of rawhide before you come here. But it's lucky fer that feller in there they was trained fer somethin' besides catchin' horses."
"Thanks, Early. He's not out of the woods yet, but he's got a chance now."
"Tad?" Straw called. "Why don't you come with me, boy? I bet by now you got some nice fat flies caught for ol' Charlie toad in that fly trap o'yourn."
"Can't I see Chase now?" he asked.
"You kin see him later, when he wakes up," Straw promised.
Tad brightened a bit. "Tell me when he wakes up, okay, Ma?"
Libby nodded and Tad reluctantly followed Straw and the other men out the door.
El turned to her. "What about you? Do you want to see him now? He asked for you."
Libby avoided his eyes and started stacking the empty coffee cups in the dry sink. If I see him now, I'll just embarrass myself and I can't afford to do that anymore, not with Chase Whitlaw. "No. I have a hundred chores that need tending to... I'll go in later."
El frowned and helped himself to a cup of coffee. He sipped it slowly, watching her. "I think we should talk about this. Don't you?"
Libby braced her hands against the counter, her back to Elliot. "There's nothing to say."
"I think there is. Sit down, Libby."
She turned on him, suddenly angry. "Look, I know he's your friend and I... I pray he doesn't die. He's welcome to stay in my room until he gets well... but don't ask me to care about him again. He lied to me, Elliot. You both lied to me."
"Neither of us lied," El corrected. "We simply didn't tell you the whole truth. I still don't think you know it."
"I know it. I know he killed my husband."
"No. He didn't."
Libby's eyes darted up to his and she felt her breath stagger. "What?"
"He didn't kill your husband."
Her face went pale. "But... he said—"
"He said he shot Lee, right?"
She nodded.
El sighed. "That was true. He shot him—in the arm. A flesh wound, not the fatal wound that ultimately killed Lee."
Confused, Libby shook her head. "Then how...?"
El wrapped his hands tightly around his cup.
"Chase, like hundreds of other men, has lived with a lot of guilt since the war. Your husband wasn't just one of the faceless men he was forced to kill in the name of the Union. Lee Honeycutt became something more to him. A symbol, if you will, of everything that was wrong with that bloody travesty of a battle.
"If Chase convinced himself that he was responsible for your husband's death, it's because he had killed dozens, maybe hundreds, of others just like him. After a while, the distinction becomes blurred."
"What is the distinction?" she asked bitterly.
El sighed. "I couldn't begin to describe the hellish conditions they were in when it happened. The men who survived it didn't call it a battle. They referred to what happened there as murder. Federals and Confederates struggling through undergrowth so thick and choking with smoke, they couldn't see three feet ahead of them."
El's eyes took on a faraway look and Libby sank down on the chair opposite him.
"Chase fired at the enemy—a Reb soldier—and, like your husband, he was trying to survive. Most likely, they would have killed each other then and there, but an artillery shell from God knows which side exploded nearby, throwing them both into the same ditch. Your husband took a mortal wound to the stomach and Chase took a bad hit to the leg."
Libby's throat tightened as she imagined Lee's suffering and remembered the limp that stiffened Chase's walk.
"Your husband was dying," El went on. "He knew it. He begged Chase to return the locket to you, knowing there was no one else to ask." He looked directly at Libby. "Chase could have refused. A lot of men would have in his position. But he didn't. He made a promise to him. And he kept it."
Libby locked her hands together on her lap; then she stood and gripped the back of her chair. "He should have sent it. He shouldn't have come here."
"Maybe not," El agreed with an irritated shrug. "Maybe he shouldn't have comforted the enemy who lay dying either. Maybe doing the honorable thing doesn't have a place in such situations." He gestured toward Libby's room. "Look where it's gotten him."
She studiously avoided glancing that way. "You call lying to me honorable?"
"I know he wanted to help you."
"How? By making me fall in love with him? By letting me think he cared about me?"
Elliot paused. "Are you in love with him?"
Libby fell silent, staring at the cup of coffee in El's hands.
"I don't know what happened between you two," El said, "but I do know he felt he owed you for saving his life."
"Owed me for...? What are you talking about?"
"I haven't told you everything."
Suddenly Libby was afraid to know what El meant to tell her. "Well, I don't think I want to hear anymore," she said pushing away from the table.
El jumped up and grabbed her arm, jerking her toward him. For the first time, she saw anger in his eyes. Anger toward her, anger toward the injustice of the whole awful situation.
"Well you're going to hear me out," he snapped. "He's suffered enough on account of this whole business. I'm going to tell you what Chase never will. Then you can decide whether or not to forgive him for doing what he did. Now sit down."
Libby sat down hard in the carved pine chair.
Elliot ran two hands through his hair and composed himself for a moment before beginning. "Chase never meant to hurt you. You must know that. Why, the man's been half in love with you since he first saw your picture in that locket two years ago."
Libby's lips parted in shock, but she could only stare at him.
"After he was wounded, he was brought to a field hospital. He was lucky to keep his leg, but he took a fever and nearly died. A nurse found your husband's locket inside Chase's pocket. She assumed, naturally, it was a picture of his wife. She gave it to him so he'd have something to hold on to, something to fight for."
El laughed humorlessly. "Ironic, isn't it? But it was your picture that saw him through the worst of his illness. He had nothing else to keep him going."
"He has no family?" Libby asked. "No woman?"
"There was someone, before the war, but she married another man shortly after Chase joined the Army. Chase's mother and my father, they died both during that damnable war after they lost everything. After Chase was injured, my sister, Violet, and I didn't know until later where he'd been sent. When we did find him at last, I brought him back to Baltimore and did a second surgery on his leg."
"He still has pain from it, doesn't he?"
"Some. He was lucky to live through it at all." El shook his head. "The war changed him, Libby. It hardened him. Closed him off. When he told me he meant to come out here, I tried to talk him out of it." El laughed with genuine affection. "He told me either to go to hell or come along, because he wasn't changing his mind. So here I am.
"To tell you the truth," he went on, "you're the only thing Chase has really cared about since the war. Meeting you, seeing that he could help you, made him feel like he was a part of something again, like he had a reason for being. That's why he couldn't just give you the locket and walk away."
Libby was silent for a long time. She pressed her fingertips against her aching eyes. "What do you want from me?"
El leaned forward in his chair. "I have no right to ask you for anything. I can only imagine how hard this must be for you. But as Chase's friend, I'm asking you to think about what I've said. He's not a saint, Libby. He's human. He needs your help and your forgiveness."
Forgiveness? A shudder ran through her. She wasn't sure she had anything like forgiveness in her anymore. "You ask a lot, Elliot."
"I know. Just think about it, will you?"
Reluctantly, she nodded.
He smiled and dragged a hand across the blond stubble on his cheeks. "I'm a mess.... Do I, uh, still have a job here?"
Libby smiled, too. "Of course, if you still want it. I need all the help I can get."
"I don't think Early can spare me right now. You'll have to watch over Chase for the next few days. I'll come back every few hours to check on him though. Can you handle that?"
"I suppose I don't have much choice," she replied with a lift of her eyebrows. "After all, he is in my bed."
El grinned and got up from the table. Libby walked him to the front door. "Make a poultice of two parts linseed oil and three parts milk for him. It'll need to be changed a few times an hour until the threat of infection is past. The gash in his head worries me, as well. He'll want to sleep, but don't let him go too long in one stretch. Wake him periodically."
El touched Libby's shoulder. "Thanks."
"For what?" she asked with an arched brow.
"For hearing me out. For finding him before it was too late. For taking care of him when it's the last thing you want to be doing. You're a special woman, Mrs. Honeycutt. Chase knows it, too."
Libby closed the door silently after El left and then leaned back against it. She stared at her bedroom door and wished she could turn and run. But she couldn't. She'd have to face him sooner or later. Her head was spinning with confusion after everything Elliot had told her. He's been half in love with you since before he met you... he didn't kill your husband... he needs your forgiveness....
She heard Jonas's deep voice as well. You've made me very happy... you won't regret marrying me, Libby... is it only gratitude you feel for me?
She pressed her fingers to her temples. She felt like she was being pulled in a hundred different directions at once. Chase, Elliot, Jonas, Tad—everyone wanted something from her and she wasn't sure she had anything left to give.
"What about my feelings, my dreams," she wondered aloud. "What about what I want?"
Only silence answered her.
Oh, Libby. When are you going to start thinking with your head instead of your heart?
* * *
Nora looked up when Libby came into the room carrying the pan of milk and linseed oil. Nora had stripped off the jacket of her black riding habit and now wore a simple white batiste blouse rolled up at the sleeves. She was wringing out a cloth she'd just dipped in cool water.
Chase lay on his side, eyes closed, his breathing deep and even. His skin was pale and sweat matted his hair to his forehead. The sight of him like that gave Libby a queer sensation in the pit of her stomach.
"How is he?" she asked in a whisper, putting the pan down on the bedside table.
"Resting easier," Nora whispered back. She stood and gathered up her jacket, slipping it over her shoulders. "He was in some pain, so I gave him some more whiskey and he fell asleep. Your Dr. Bradford did a good job. He's a fine surgeon. It was fortunate he was here."
"And it was lucky you were here, Nora. I can't thank you enough for your help." Libby watched two spots of color appear on Nora's cheeks.
"I'd better go before we wake him. I hope he'll be all right. He seems like a good man. It just doesn't seem fair, does it?" She shook her head sadly, patted Libby on the shoulder and slipped quietly from the room.
What about life is fair? Libby wondered, wringing out the cloth she'd dipped in the poultice. Carefully, she peeled off the pad of gauze Elliot had placed over the hole in Chase's side and she laid the warm, moist towel in its place. She did the same for his shoulder wound.
Chase jerked awake and took in a long, hissing breath. He blinked up at her. "Libby?"
"I'm right here."
He reached for her free hand like a man grasping for a lifeline. Hesitantly, she obliged him. His strong fingers wrapped around hers and she let him squeeze until the pain eased. Even after that, his hand remained clamped on hers as if they were two parts of a whole, forged together by the heat of their touch.
"How bad am I?" he asked in a raspy voice.
"Elliot got the bullet out of your shoulder. Nothing vital was hit. The one in your side passed straight through." She squeezed his hand. "You're going to be all right, Chase," she told him, trying to believe it herself. "What you need now is rest."
"Damn careless of me to get caught that way," he mumbled.
She shook her head. "Trammel didn't give you much choice, shooting you in the back the way he did. Are you sure it was him?"
He nodded and managed a grim smile. "He made a point of making sure I was awake so I could feel the toe of his boot connect with my ribs. He wanted me to know he left me there to die."
"Oh, Chase..." She'd seen his bruised ribs, but had assumed he'd gotten them in the fall.
"He took my gun and my horse."
"We found Blue a mile or two from where we found you."
Chase grimaced as he tried to ease some weight off his shoulder. "That stallion... stayed with me... all night.... Don't know why...."
"I saw him. Thank God he was there or the coyotes might have killed you."
"Libby—"
"Shhh, don't try to talk anymore. Go to sleep," she told him.
He had some things that needed saying, but his strength seemed to be dissipating like morning fog.
"Lib?" He swallowed and rolled his eyes shut. "Sit with me a while, will you? Jus' 'til I fall asleep?"
"I'll be right here."
"Thanks," he murmured.
A smile tipped one corner of her mouth and she brushed his hair from his eyes. "Go to sleep now, Chase," she said, but she realized he already had.
* * *
Outside, El leaned his palms against the wooden water trough and hung his head. He was shaken. Not just by the sight of Chase so gravely wounded, again, but by Libby's anger. He could have predicted things would end this way between them. But he could never have imagined Bodine shooting Chase in the back.
He splashed water on his face and let it drip off as he stared into the water. If he ever saw the bastard again he'd...
Another face joined his reflection in the trough. He straightened.
"Are you all right?" Nora asked, touching his arm tenderly.
El scraped the water from his face with one hand. "I'm... Yeah. Just great."
"I'm sorry about Chase. It must have been awful for
you to have to doctor him yourself."
"I've done it before."
"You're a wonderful surgeon, Dr. Bradford."
"It's Elliot, and right now I'm feeling pretty damn helpless."
Nora shook her head. "You've done everything you can. He'll pull through. You said so yourself. He's lucky to have a friend like you."
Elliot really looked at Nora for the first time, taking in the empathy in her sable eyes. "We practically grew up together. His mother married my father after they were both widowed, but he's always been a brother to me. These past few years have been hard on him. I've watched him go to hell and back." Anger made El's words harsh. "He didn't deserve this."
"No, he didn't. No one deserves something like this," Nora agreed. "But you can't blame yourself for that."
El sighed and stared out across Honeycutt range. "Bodine's to blame. If I ever see him I'll kill him myself."
Nora's voice was soft as she laid a hand on his arm. "Elliot, your calling is to heal, not to hurt."
Her touch brought his gaze around to her face. He had the craziest urge to draw her into his arms and hold her. Propriety checked it. Instead, he smiled and lifted the back of her hand to his lips. "The best nurses always know how to keep the doctor in line. I was glad to have you in there to help me."
"I am, sir, humbly at your service," she replied with a grin and a curtsy. Together they walked to where Will Tuerney held her horse in readiness for her. El helped her mount and she smiled down at him. "I'll be back in a few days to see how Chase is doing. I pray, for your sake and his, he'll be all right."
Chapter 17
Fever hit Chase on the second day, despite all their precautions. Infection had gotten a toehold in the wound in his side in the hours he'd lain outside after being shot. Libby sat with him for two days straight, with Elliot spelling her every few hours. They sponged him down with witch hazel and packed the infection alternately with woundswart and a mixture of charcoal and yeast. They forced feverfew and sage teas down his throat by the cupful. All to no avail.
On the third day, Chase ranted feverishly, struggling and thrashing against their every effort to help him. He called out to soldiers on the field, as if he were in battle, and twice mentioned her husband's name. More often than not, however, it was Libby he called for. That nearly broke her heart.
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