Over her shoulder, his fierce eyes met Paige's questioning gaze, and he shook his head.
"It is over," he said in his heavily accented English. "We are beaten. Riel, he has walked into da enemy camp and signed a note of surrender, but not I. Dumont will never surrender; dey must kill him first."
A tumult of emotions washed over Paige, among them relief that the fighting was over, mingled with compassion for the strong, brave Métis who'd fought so hard against such odds.
"Louis." From where she was lying, Gigette had heard what Gabriel was saying. She called her husband's name, over and over, and Gabriel went to kneel beside her.
"I am taking Madeleine now to my fadder's farm, where she will be safe," he told her. "Louis, he has asked dat you and your children come with us, Gigette. I know it is hard for you, and we must hurry." His eyes went to the tiny, blanketed baby. "I will see that da baby is taken to da priest for a proper burial, but we cannot wait. We must leave now."
He turned to Paige. "You, Madame, are free to go. I tank you for what you have done for my people. The Anglais general, he is even now in da village. I will make sure you reach him safely."
"Are there injured men, Gabriel? I'll do what I can for them first, if you like."
"Merci, Madame, I would be very grateful. Tree of my faithful Métis are shot, twelve more are dead. They were taken to da church; the Anglais have burned da rest of da village."
Paige gathered together what few medical supplies she had left, and Madeleine helped Gigette to get up and dress. Both women, frail and poorly dressed, coughed violently in the cold, damp air, and Paige took two of the blankets Gabriel had brought and wrapped them around their shoulders.
The moment came when Paige had to say goodbye.
She pressed a small package of medications into Madeleine's hand, all she had to give her, and wrapped her arms around the frail older woman she'd come to love, unwilling to release her to what Paige knew could only be a tragic fate. Too emotional to speak, she hugged her close for long moments.
Madeleine's eyes were starry with tears. She drew away from Paige and impulsively took off the tiny locket she always wore and fastened it around Paige's neck.
"For good luck with your enfant,” she said in a tremulous voice. "Go with God, my friend."
By the middle of May spring had come to the prairies, and the residents of Battleford struggled to recover from the month they'd spent under siege inside the fort. While they'd been within its walls, many of their houses and businesses and most of the outlying homesteads had been burned by marauding Indians. The Hudson's Bay Company store had been looted and then burned to the ground.
Miraculously, Paige's house, up on the hill and away from the rest of the town, was one of the few buildings that survived the siege untouched, probably because of its proximity to the fort.
Myles visited it, but he couldn't bear to live there alone. He reclaimed his room at the fort and spent the sleepless night hours there, reading, pacing, trying alternately to think and not think of Paige.
The only way he could stay sane was by refusing to believe that she was dead. He convinced himself that she was being held hostage, and that when the rebellion ended, she'd come home.
Days ago, word had reached Battleford of Riel's surrender, so the rebellion was over.
Still she hadn't come. Day and night, Myles watched and waited for news of her. He questioned every injured soldier, every scout who reached the fort as to whether they'd seen or heard of her, but none had.
The time came when hope wore thin, and he felt totally disheartened. He'd spent the day writing urgent reports to the commissioner requesting medical supplies, blankets, cooking utensils, tools, and beds—the commanding officers at the fort had given the settlers as many supplies as they could.
The people were suffering. Their houses and farms and belongings were gone, and they were forced to start all over again, many of them with little more than the clothing they wore. They were disheartened, and the mounted policemen did whatever they could to help.
Myles forced himself to keep busy, treating the injured, composing reports, supervising cleanup details, taking inventory of what was left of his dispensary, but his mind wasn't on what he was doing. He couldn't banish the terrible feeling that he was waiting in vain for Paige, that she'd died somewhere out on the prairies.
It was nearing evening. He was walking across the common, heading for the commander's residence to give him the reports for the morning's dispatch, when there was a commotion at the gates. He heard the sentry's challenge, and the gates swung open.
Two of the riders were male. Myles glanced at them, and then he looked at the third.
"Paige." His shout echoed through the stockade. "Paige." He dropped what he was carrying and ran toward her.
She slid off Minnie and into his arms.
He had to struggle to control the harsh sobs that left him speechless for long moments as he held her against him, his trembling hands relearning the shape of her skull, the delicate curve of her back.
He kissed her, once, fiercely, and then twice more, gently. Her lips were chapped, her face burned from the sun and wind. Her hair was long, curling in a wild frenzy across her shoulders, her face and arms alarmingly thin. She trembled like an aspen in his embrace, her arms locked around his neck as though she'd never let him go.
She tipped her head up to look at him, and through the tears raining down her face she laughed and wrinkled her sunburned and freckled nose at him, her green eyes immense.
"You've grown a beard, Doctor. You'll have to shave it off, it tickles something awful when you kiss me."
His voice shook, but he was in control again. "Bossy wench. I guess I'll have to do it right away."
Hours later, they lay in their own bed, wrapped close in one another's arms. The gas lantern was turned low, casting long shadows over the familiar room. With their bodies, they'd bridged the time they'd spent apart and now, with words, they were filling in all the blank places.
Myles had tried to make her rest, insisting there was plenty of time to talk later. There were dark shadows underneath her eyes that troubled him, but when he insisted she sleep, she talked instead, and he understood that she needed to spill out the horror and fear of the past weeks.
In a mixture of tears and garbled phrases, she told him of Batoche, of Madeleine and the caves, of Gigette and the lost baby, of the tragic defeat of the courageous people she'd come to admire.
Myles could only hold her, aware that the words were cathartic.
"Now you must tell me what happened here while I was gone, please, Myles. I need to know everything."
He'd dreaded this moment, knowing the pain it would bring her, but it was obvious that she wouldn't rest until he did. Finally, his heart heavy, he began.
He told her of the day he'd come home to find her gone, and of how Rob Cameron had offered his help. Myles's voice faltered as he told her the rest, of the Indian attack and the children who survived, and, his voice thick with regret, of how Rob died in the attack.
She gasped and he felt her flinch, as if from a blow. He held her close when at last the tears came.
"He was such a dear, good friend," she sobbed. "Rob was the first person I met that day on the prairie. He—he even asked me to marry him once."
He held her as the sobs shook her body.
"What—what became of the children, Myles?"
"Clara and Theo have Danny and Missy." It was a relief to have something good to tell her. "Clara insists Ellie needs brothers and sisters or she'll grow up spoiled, but from what I saw, Clara and Theo'll just spoil all three of those tykes rotten. They're fine people, the Fletchers. Danny and Missy couldn't get better folks as parents. Their homestead was looted and burned, but at least the barn is still standing. They're all back out there now, getting started on spring planting."
"That's good." He felt her relax a little, but her next question sent his heart plummeting.
"Have you seen T
ahny? How's the baby? Was it a boy like we thought? Did she and Dennis come in to the fort when the siege was on?"
Myles shut his eyes and tried to draw air past the lump in his throat. His voice was flat and empty. "They had a boy, but Dennis Quinlan's dead, Paige. He was murdered just over a week ago."
Again, her body jolted in his embrace, and he held her even closer, trying to cushion the shock, still hardly able himself to absorb the loss of his good friend.
"But why, Myles? How?" Her agonized whisper tore at him. "Why would the Indians murder Dennis? He was related to them by marriage. They wouldn't do that to Tahny, would they?"
He stroked her shoulders, resting a hand on her breast, aware of the erratic pounding of her heart. "Tahnancoa swears it wasn't Indians, my love." His voice was harsh. "She told me the men were white. She figures they were members of the Canadian army. They wore uniforms."
The burning rage he'd felt rose again inside of him, and he drew in a shaky breath, trying to control the desire to somehow find the men, avenge his friend's murder. But the ragtag army was dispersed now, the men long gone, their identities unknown.
"Why?" Paige's agonized question was the same one he'd asked.
“Tahny said they taunted and then killed Dennis because he was married to her. Called him an Indian lover. They burned the house and all the outbuildings and shot him when he fought back. Tahny was hiding with the baby. She got to her horse and managed to ride to the fort, but when I took her to the inspector to file charges against the army men, he didn't believe her story."
Myles had come close to assaulting a fellow officer that day.
"He figured Tahny was covering up for her people. There's bad feelings against the Indians because of the murder and looting that went on around here. When Tahny heard what he said, she got on her pony with the baby and rode off to Poundmaker's village. She's been there ever since."
"Have you seen her?"
Myles nodded. "I went to the reserve the very next day to see if I could help her." He sighed. "She refused to speak to me. She's angry and bitter, and now she's got even more reason to be."
The rest of the story sickened him. "Besides losing Dennis and being called a liar by the inspector, two of her cousins, young braves from the village, have been arrested by the Canadian army and charged with murder. They're in cells at the fort, awaiting execution. They're condemned to hang."
"Oh, my God. Oh, Myles, it's a nightmare. Are the charges legitimate? Did the men murder anyone?"
He shrugged and sighed. "Who can say? It was war. Indians, Métis, the army—everybody was shooting at everybody else. I still believe the Indians, and the Métis, were driven to it by the actions of the government. The Canadian army won, but it wasn't the easy victory they expected. I personally feel they're making scapegoats out of Poundmaker and these two Indian braves. I said as much in a report to the commissioner, pleading for clemency, but I know my report will be ignored." His voice was bitter and sarcastic. "Naturally enough, the Mounted have to appear to support the army. And Tahny and her people are totally betrayed in the process."
Silence fell between them.
"I have to go and see her, Myles. Right away."
Myles traced the new hollows in Paige's cheeks with a finger, disturbed at the way the skin stretched tightly over her beautiful bones. "Not right away. You're going to get plenty of bed rest until I feel you're fit to travel," he stated in a harsh voice that brooked no argument. "And then you can only go out if I'm with you."
He didn't think he could let her out of his sight, not for a long time to come. "You need to gain back the weight you've lost. It worries me that you're so thin."
He felt her draw her breath in sharply and then release it in a sigh. She was very still, and when she spoke her voice was trembling.
"I won't be thin for long, Myles." She took his hand and pressed it to her abdomen, turning her head so she could look directly into his eyes. "Feel here. I was sure you'd notice. Oh, Myles, I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby."
For a moment, her words left him speechless and numb. He couldn't think, or breathe, or react. He felt as though a fist had punched him in the guts. At last, he stammered, "But I--I didn't think you could get pregnant."
"Well, neither did I." Her voice was strained, and she jerked away from him, her voice suddenly hurt and angry. "I'm sorry if you're disappointed, Myles. I guess I should have used those damned sponges I handed out so freely to my patients."
"Stop it." He reached out and yanked her back against him, his voice savage. "Damn you, Paige, don't be such a quick tempered fool. Could you actually believe for an instant that I'm disappointed? I'm in shock. I never dreamed a child was possible for us. You told me it wasn't, more than once, and I believed you." How could he not have noticed, when they'd made love a short time ago? He was half out of his mind with relief at having her back. He'd wondered at the fullness of her breasts when the rest of her looked starved, but when he removed the last of her clothing, she'd urged him on until his reason fled.
His voice lowered, and the passion he felt made his voice tremble. "My beautiful woman, having you as my wife is more than I ever dreamed life would hold for me. To have our child as well..." The thought sent shivers down his spine. He raised up on an elbow and placed the palm of his hand reverently on the slight swelling of her belly.
"But what about the delivery, Paige?" The doctor in him took over from the proud father, and he frowned at her. "You told me there were serious complications the first time you delivered. How will that affect you this time?" She turned her head away, but not before he'd seen the stark fear in her eyes.
His own heart plummeted. "Paige? Talk to me. Don't shut me out." He took her chin and gently made her look at him again. "We're in this together. I'm a doctor, just as you are. It's our child. If there are problems, we can discuss them."
She nodded, her face troubled. "It'll be complicated. It'll definitely have to be cesarean." She saw the utter horror on his face and added quickly, "You can do it, Myles. It's a relatively easy operation." The words were confident, but she couldn't mask her own apprehension.
He was all too aware of what she wasn't saying. Cesarean might be an everyday procedure in her future time. Here in his, it was performed only in the most extreme of emergencies, and only rarely did either the mother or the child survive.
He didn't have the equipment Paige had told him about, or the facilities she'd described. And having to perform it himself, on his own wife, his baby……
Memories of Beth, of the hemorrhage he couldn't stop, of the baby son born before its time, flashed before his eyes. How could he ever bring himself to open Paige, lift his child from her womb?
He shuddered, and icy sweat trickled down his spine.
Foreboding gripped him, even as he forced a reassuring smile and planted a gentle kiss on his wife's chapped lips. "We have plenty of time to prepare. When's our baby due?"
"Late September, early October."
A scant five months away. He reached over and turned down the wick on the lamp. Blessed darkness blanketed them, and he lay back down on the pillow and settled her head on his shoulder.
"We'll manage this together, my dearest." It took enormous effort to force confidence into his voice. "All you have to do is rest now, and eat, and regain your strength so our child will benefit. All that matters right now is that you're back with me, and safe." He stroked her hair, soothing her to sleep with his voice. "Having you here in my arms means everything to me. Sleep now, my love."
She sighed and burrowed down beside him, her hand on his chest, and before long he felt her body relax completely into slumber.
For a long time, he lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, his heart thundering. He'd stopped believing in God when Beth died, but now he closed his eyes and tried to remember how to pray.
Myles was profoundly relieved when Paige took his advice for several weeks, doing little except sleeping and eating.
With the com
ing of June, summer exploded across the prairies and the days became hot.
Paige tended the patients who appeared at her office, but the energy she'd always had in excess was gone. The child growing within her made her languid and lazy.
In the first days after her return, Paige sent a message to Tahny, expressing her grief at Dennis's death and asking when she could come and see Tahnancoa and the baby, but there was no answer.
A second message brought a terse reply: "I have returned to my people," was all Tahny wrote.
It was obvious, as Myles had warned, that Tahnancoa wanted nothing more to do with anyone white. Saddened, Paige could only accept her friend's decision.
In early July, in the middle of a hot night, Abigail Donald sent a frantic young husband to ask Paige to come at once to an outlying farm where the man's wife had just delivered their first child.
"Lucy's bleeding somethin' fierce," the man babbled. "Mrs. Donald says to please hurry."
"I'm coming along," Myles said. He harnessed a team to the carriage he'd recently bought, and they set off across the prairie.
The trip brought back memories for Paige of the night Clara was in labor with Ellie, and she hoped this trip would have as happy an outcome.
But when she and Myles hurried into the tiny bedroom in the modest little cabin, her heart sank. A baby girl lay squalling in a cradle, unwashed and hastily wrapped in a blanket. Abigail, normally cool and unflappable, was visibly upset.
The young mother was unconscious and despite all Abigail's efforts to stop the flow, blood still poured from her in great gushes, soaking the bed and mattress, dripping into pools on the rough wooden floor.
"The delivery was normal, the baby's healthy," Abigail explained as Paige and Myles hastily scrubbed at a basin in the corner. "The afterbirth came away, but the uterus wouldn't contract. I've given ergot, but it hasn't worked."
Now and Forever: Time Travel Romance Superbundle Page 32