Tears blurred her vision, but she kept herself together long enough to wash and change her clothing and clean up the bedroom from Chase’s impromptu surgery.
Kathryne snuffed out the flames of the wall sconces and lowered the wick in the lamp on the bedside table, added a few more logs to the fire then pulled her favorite chair into the bedroom and placed it beside the bed. Chase seemed to be breathing easily now, though he had yet to awaken. She wrapped herself in an afghan then sat in her chair and pulled her legs beneath her, making herself comfortable for a long night of keeping watch.
Sarge sat in the same position in the doorway, still keeping guard over the man on the bed. “Come here, boy.”
The dog trotted into the room and sat beside her, resting his head on her lap. “You’re a good boy.” Kathryne slipped her fingers into his soft fur. “Do dogs pray? I know they laugh, but do they pray?” He lifted his head and stared deeply into her eyes. His brows twitched and his ears cocked as she stroked him. That peculiar growl-groan issued from his throat. “Pray for Chase. Pray we find the men who did this to him before they realize he’s still alive.”
She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. A horrible thought occurred to her and her eyes flew open. Chase had been shot, but had he retaliated? Was there someone lying dead somewhere, just waiting to be found? And the blood. There had been so much of it. Was there a trail leading straight to her door?
Kathryne jumped from her seat, startling the dog. She dressed as quickly and as warmly as her shaking fingers would allow then grabbed a lamp from the kitchen table and rushed outside.
There was indeed a trail of blood. Splotches of crimson stained the snow covering the bridge. With her foot, she pushed the snow into the swiftly flowing stream, removing any evidence Chase had been there at all. She stepped off the bridge, holding the lamp high, her breath coming out in frosty white plumes as panic and fear seized her. More blood stained the snowy path leading to the school. As best she could, she covered the spots of red with more snow then rushed into the schoolhouse. She stopped in the doorway, her breath seizing in her lungs, her heart pounding so hard she saw pinpoints of light dance in front of her eyes. The floorboards covering the entrance to the tunnel were out of place, pushed to the side and blood smeared the wooden planks leading from the dark opening to the door.
The last thing she wanted was to go down into the tunnel—alone. She had no choice though. If Chase had indeed killed someone, she had to hide the body—to protect him and herself.
She took a deep breath then another, searching for whatever shred of courage she could find, and climbed into the dark, gaping hole in the floor.
Chapter Seventeen
“Emy,” Kathryne sighed as she unlocked the door and found herself drawn into a warm, comforting embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You didn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement as the woman stepped back and studied her face. Terrence had said the same thing when he’d stopped by earlier.
“No, not very much. I-I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes—” She couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t relive the nightmare of finding Chase as she did, nor could she forget the dead man she’d found in the tunnel and her efforts to bury him. She never thought she could do something like that, but to protect Chase, she had. She had blisters on her palms to prove it. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Emeline entered the kitchen and dropped her reticule and a large sewing basket on the table.
“For staying with Chase. For helping me find my way out of trouble. Again.”
Emeline sucked in her breath and shook her head as understanding dawned in her eyes. “You’re in love with him.”
Though the words were spoken without rancor, without accusation, Kathryne stilled, every muscle in her body tensing. “He’s a good man, Emy,” she said. “Everything I said to the Ladies’ Society is true. He’s kind-hearted and decent. Gentle. Caring.” She held her breath, waiting for her sister to berate her, chide her—indeed, scold her—for falling in love with the wrong man once again. None of that happened. There were no harsh words, not even a little censure in her eyes as she removed her gloves and stuffed them in the pockets of her warm winter coat.
Instead, she asked, “Where’s Sarge? I expected him to greet me at the door like he always does.” Emy untied the scarf around her head and neck and tossed it over a chair then unbuttoned her coat. The heavy garment joined the knitted scarf.
“He hasn’t moved from Chase’s side.”
“That dog is amazing. Wish I had one just like him,” she said as she helped herself to a cup of coffee, poured in a little canned milk and sugar and took a sip. “Mmmm. Good. Where’d you learn to make good coffee?”
A flush stained Kathryne’s face, the heat rising all the way up from her chest. “Chase taught me.”
An eyebrow cocked over one eye, but again Emeline didn’t comment. “Get changed. You need to go to school. I’ll be here until after your classes.” She opened the sewing basket and removed several of Terrence’s shirts, which needed mending, and made herself comfortable at the table.
Kathryne nodded then rushed to her room. Sarge’s tail thumped the floor in greeting, but he didn’t leave his post beside the bed. “You’re a good boy, Sarge,” she whispered. The dog’s ears twitched and if possible, he seemed to smile as he laid his muzzle on his paws.
She glanced at the bed. Chase hadn’t moved, not when Terrence came by to check his bandages earlier, and not now. He had good color in his face and even though his chest rose and fell steadily beneath the blanket, she couldn’t help herself. She had to make sure. She laid her hand over his forehead as she’d done countless times during the night. No fever.
How am I supposed to leave him like this? How am I ever supposed to teach?
She had to, though, had to maintain her normal routine. Someone could be watching. She took a deep breath then another in order to still her racing thoughts. When she’d calmed a little, she changed out of her nightclothes. She finished pinning her hair into a bun at the back of her head and glanced once more at Chase. “Watch him, Sarge,” she told the dog and grabbed her cape from the armoire.
Emeline looked up from the shirt in her hand and removed the sewing needle from between her teeth. “Nice cape. I meant to tell you that before. The fur around the neckline matches your hair. Did Mrs. Montgomery make it for you?”
Heat rose to Kathryne’s face as she slipped the tortoiseshell buttons through their corresponding holes then had to unbutton them all when she realized she’d done it wrong. “Actually, it was a gift,” she said as she started again from the top and this time, did it correctly.
“I see. Should I ask who gave you this gift?”
Kathryne’s hands shook the slightest bit as she slipped them through the fur-lined slits and picked up several books from the table. Without conscious thought, she glanced through the open bedroom door. “He did.”
Emeline said nothing as she jabbed the sewing needle into the pincushion strapped to her wrist and dropped the shirt on the table. She rose and took a few steps toward Kathryne then grabbed her by the arms. Her lovely eyes gazed into Kathryne’s. “He’ll be all right, Kate. I promise.”
“What if he’s not?”
“Don’t even think about the possibility. Terry wouldn’t lie to you. Neither would I. Chase will be all right. Keep telling yourself that.”
Such sympathy radiated from Emeline’s eyes, Kathryne’s throat constricted and tears blurred her vision.
“Now go to school. You don’t want to be late.”
Kathryne nodded, unable to do more, even though there was so much more she wanted to do—like thank her sister—for everything. She left the cottage, concentrating on simply breathing in and out, repeating the litany: He’ll be all right. He’ll be all right. Still, anxiety and fear rippled through her, making her heart pound in her chest. She stepped onto the bridge and inspected the wooden slats as she crossed it, lo
oking for traces of Chase’s blood that she may have missed last night, but the smooth surface showed not one stain, not one blotch of crimson.
She entered the school and heard the voices of her students, already at their desks, all warm and cozy with the heat coming from the little Ben Franklin stove. They talked amongst themselves as they waited for her. As she unbuttoned the cape and hung it on one of the pegs in the coatroom, she inspected her efforts of the night before. Though she had scrubbed and scrubbed, several blotches of Chase’s blood discolored the floor. Anyone glancing at the stains would assume they were from Shep. She hoped.
Kathryne took a moment, breathing deeply before pasting a smile on her face and stepping into the classroom. “Good morning, class.”
“Good morning, Miss O’Rourke.”
Thus began the longest day of her life. Aside from being so exhausted, she couldn’t concentrate on the lessons she had planned, she couldn’t think of anything except Chase. Time dragged, the minutes ticking by with maddening slowness. Several times, she’d caught herself sitting at her desk, chin resting in her hand as she stared out the window, questions rumbling through her mind while the children read quietly or worked on assignments.
By the time the clock struck three, she was more anxious than the children to leave and get back to Chase.
****
“Katie, darlin’.”
Kathryne grinned and hooked her arm through Chase’s as they walked through town. She loved the way he said her name, loved the way he added “darlin’,” the word flowing from his lips without effort, loved the feel of his solid muscles beneath her hand. People smiled at them—the men tipping their hats, the women greeting them warmly as they strolled along the street.
“Katie.”
Kathryne jumped in her chair beside the bed, startled from the pleasant dream in full color in her mind, as a hand gently caressed her arm.
“Chase.” A smiled twitched the corners of her mouth as his name slipped from her lips. She sighed as relief rushed through her. He’d woken several times before, but he hadn’t been lucid, the pain too intense. She’d give him broth, as Terrence recommended, and laudanum then watched over him as he drifted back into deep sleep. Fortunately, he’d never run a fever, never developed an infection. He seemed to be healing quite well according to Terrence, who visited each morning and evening. “I’m so glad you’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been run over by a team of horses and dragged for miles.” His eyelids fluttered then opened wide, as if he fought the rest he needed and the effects of the morphine. “What happened? How did I get here?”
“You don’t remember?”
He shook his head on the pillow, the flames from the fireplace reflecting in his hair, bringing out glints of red and gold buried in the thick, black strands. Kathryne reached out and ran her fingers through the silky softness, repeating what she had done so many times while he slept.
“You were shot. You lost a lot of blood before Sarge and I found you.” She didn’t tell him how close he’d come to fulfilling the shooter’s desire to see him in his grave, didn’t tell him of the pain that still rippled through her heart every time she looked at him.
The color drained from his face and his eyes opened wide as if memories flooded his mind. “How long…have I been here?”
“Three days.”
“Three?” He tried to raise himself up from the bed, panic induced sweat popping out on his brow and upper lip, as an almost crazed glow filled in his eyes. “I have to go.”
Kathryne jumped from the chair and sat on the side of the bed. She touched his forehead with her hand, looking for fever but his skin was warm, not hot. She caressed the side of his face, resting her hand on his cheek as she gazed deeply into his soft gray eyes. “It’s all right, Chase. You’re safe.” She stayed that way, her hand on his cheek, her gaze unflinching until he stopped trying to get out of bed.
“The man who shot me—has he been found? Has Townsend come around?”
“The man who shot you is dead. I-I found him in the tunnel.” She never blinked as she stared into his eyes. “I buried him. No one knows about him but you and me.”
He focused on her, his eyes filled with pain. From his wounds? Or because of what she’d been forced to do to protect him? “I’m sorry, Katie. I never meant…”
“Don’t apologize, Chase. Never apologize.” Her voice lowered as her throat constricted and the questions she’d been asking herself over and over in her mind came rushing out. “Who was he? Why did he try to kill you? What were you doing in the tunnel?”
He didn’t answer her questions, which frustrated her. She wanted to know, needed to know, to protect them both. She wanted to shake him when he asked instead, “Who else knows I’m here?”
“Emy. And, of course, Terry. They’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
“Dangerous,” he whispered, the struggle to rise from the bed zapping what little strength he had.
“Are you in pain? I can give you some laudanum.”
He shook his head. “No. Don’t need it. Need to be awake. Protect—” His words drifted off as his eyes closed and his breathing became deeper, heavier.
Kathryne ran her fingers through his hair, pushing the silken strands away from his forehead. “Sleep, my love.” She pulled back the light blanket and checked his bandages, as Terrence had shown her. No blood seeped through the pristine white of the old sheet she had torn into strips. She fixed the blanket, drawing the warm flannel up to his chin then settled in the chair beside the bed for another long night of keeping vigil.
Sarge left his place beside the bed and wandered to her, his nails clicking on the floor, tail wagging slowly, fanning the air. He laid his head on her lap and whined.
“He’ll be all right, boy,” she whispered as she sunk her fingers into the soft fur around his neck. The simple act of petting the dog eased some of her fears, but none of her frustration. She couldn’t stop thinking about the dead man in the tunnel.
Her eyes flickered to the bed and she watched Chase breathe, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. There had been nothing in the dead man’s pockets except a few coins—no identification of any kind. She’d checked before she pushed him as close to the side of the tunnel as she could and covered him with dirt. She knew for certain she had never set eyes on him before.
Perhaps, the stranger had a score to settle. After all, Chase Hunter was an outlaw. Perhaps, Chase had killed someone the man knew and he’d come to Crystal Springs for revenge, but why were they in the tunnel?
She sighed. She couldn’t help it as the litany of unanswered questions flitted through her mind. Perhaps tomorrow, when he woke again, she could ask—and keep asking until Chase told her everything she wanted to know.
Kathryne leaned her head against the high back of the chair and closed her eyes. Exhaustion overpowered her desire to stay awake and despite the vivid images flashing before her eyelids, she slept.
Chapter Eighteen
“What are you doing?”
Chase stopped pulling on his right boot and glanced up as Kathryne stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. He hadn’t heard her come in to the cottage, hadn’t realized school had finished for the day nor how long it had taken him to dress in the clothes he’d persuaded Emeline to fetch from his room at Mrs. Rawlins’s. He hadn’t planned on this confrontation either; he’d hoped to slip away before she’d come home and tried to stop him. “I have to go.” He finished tugging on his boot then picked up the other one and slid his foot into the top, yanking on the straps to slide it into place.
“It’s too soon. Terry said—”
“Terry said I’m healing nicely.” Ten days after getting shot, pain still radiated from his thigh as he stood and though he tried not to, he limped across the room. “Katie, I—” He didn’t finish the thought, the words he’d been about to say swirled away like leaves in the wind.
How could he thank her for all she’d done for him? The ache
in his thigh didn’t quite match the ache in his heart as he noticed the becoming blush staining her cheeks. Her chin trembled—indeed, her entire body trembled—and she bit her lip. He knew she was fighting the urge to cry—he’d seen her do that several times over the last few days and yet, he couldn’t let her emotional state stop him. Chase smoothed his thumb along her cheek. “I’ve been cooped up long enough.”
“Don’t,” she insisted as she turned her face away and took several steps back, putting distance between them.
Don’t what? Touch her? Take her in his arms as he longed to? He had to know. “Don’t what?”
“Leave,” she spit out then took a deep breath, as if to calm herself. “You’re not well enough.”
“There are things I must do, things I can’t explain—”
Tell her! The thought popped into his brain and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to confess everything. Not now. Perhaps, later, when the plan he’d devised while convalescing came to fruition, when the danger had passed. Until then, ignorance remained her best defense. If she didn’t know…
She made it so damned hard though. Tears glistened in her eyes, the dark sooty lashes surrounding them spiked with wetness, magnified by the lenses of her glasses. She held herself rigid, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at him. Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Try to explain it to me, Chase. Tell me why someone tried to kill you. Tell me why you were in the tunnel that night.”
Chase opened his mouth, the words right there on the tip of his tongue, but in the end, he could say nothing. After a moment, he closed his mouth and shrugged. “I can’t.”
“The hell with you then,” she whispered, her voice tight. “Go ahead. Get yourself killed, but don’t come to me this time. I couldn’t bear to see you again as I did that night.”
“Don’t worry, Katie. No one is going to kill me.”
“You have the nerve to tell me not to worry!” Kathryne’s voice rose an octave and cracked. “What else have I done since I found you, but worry? Night after night, day after day, praying you wouldn’t get an infection, praying you wouldn’t get a fever? Praying you wouldn’t die!” Her voice lowered as she turned away from him. “Just go, Chase.”
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