Not wanting to leave her alone again, he opened the door and called out until the old lady returned.
"Ellie... my wife... has a wound on her leg. I think it may be causing her fever."
He showed it to the old lady, who made sympathetic clucking noises.
"Hm, how'd she get it?"
Damn! He'd know that, wouldn't he, if they were married?
"She scraped her legs getting out of a wagon, back in—" he considered what town they might've been visiting on the rail line "—in Hannibal. Must've been something on the backboard."
"I've got some witch hazel tincture that we can put on it, might help. Helped Henry when he cut his thumb and it swelled up somethin' awful."
"I'd be obliged," he said, feeling a little relieved that he had an ally; she disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a brown glass bottle of clear liquid.
"Don't be shy now—pour some on her leg and then more on this cloth. You can lay that on her leg or better yet, tie it on."
Thaddeus looked at the items in his hands and then at Ellie. Gingerly, he dribbled the witch hazel onto her red wound, watching the liquid penetrate the cut and the excess run over her skin. He swallowed, feeling sweat break out between his shoulders under the old lady's scrutiny. Did she want to push him aside and do it herself? Should he ask her to? Or was this a husband's natural job?
He glanced at her, and she smiled encouragingly.
Next, he soaked a patch of the clean cloth and wrapped it around Ellie's leg, tying the ends so it stayed in place.
"You done real well. Let her sleep and come have supper with us."
Thaddeus gauged Ellie's present state—eyes sealed shut, still on her stomach curled around a pillow, dead to the world. She seemed to be sleeping heavily, but the thought of returning and seeing her on the floor stopped him from leaving the room.
Glancing around, he spied the chair, a heavy upholstered monstrosity, still draped in his and Ellie's coats. Dragging it beside the bed, he faced it away, hoping the large chair back, pressed against the mattress, would protect Ellie from another fall.
Satisfied that he'd done all he could, he went downstairs to eat.
* * *
Returning from a satisfying meal of boiled mutton, stewed liver, and vegetables, Thaddeus heaved a sigh of relief to see Ellie still asleep, though she'd turned over.
Gaping at her bare legs with her shift only just skimming her shapely thighs, he hurried over to grab their one blanket and cover her. His own body reacted again, getting all worked up at the sight of her.
Good Lord! He was behaving as though he'd never had a woman!
Removing his boots, his vest, and his shirt, he stood by the window, looking out into the twilight. Where had the day gone? One minute had slipped into the next and then into hours while he'd stayed in the small room tending Ellie.
For the life of him, he couldn't shake the wonder of this, one of the strangest days of his life. Every past recollection of her crowded his mind—seeing her at a school desk primly ignoring everyone while turning the pages of a book, singing their morning songs, handling her recitation without making eye contact. He'd never minded going to school—if for nothing else than so he could admire her.
Glancing over at the bed, his breath hitched, merely looking at her. He'd never seen her hushed and subdued until today. She was always so vibrant back home, usually flying into a rage over something or other, but other moment, quieter ones, he'd catch her by herself and they'd share a smile and a laugh.
In her present state, she looked smaller, paler, and dimmer—not herself. Her essence always shimmered like the sun, and her blue eyes used to look right inside of him. Or so he'd thought, until the day she'd agreed to be Mrs. Riley Dalcourt.
His stomach clenched as if he'd only then watched her run across the dusty street toward him, before she told him her news, dashing his dreams of them being together.
How he hated recalling that feeling—like it was the end of the world and he could do nothing to change it. He remembered being scarcely able to breathe, and then something gave way in him; a river of hatred let loose, making him want to lash out at her for not loving him and to kill Riley for being the better man who'd gained her love. Instead, he'd done the only thing he could do; he'd left Spring City as fast as possible.
So how was it that being in the same room as her made his happiness blossom like an unwatered flower finally receiving the spring rains? He took a deep breath and eased the knot in his stomach. Perhaps he could stand here all night and look at her. Maybe he would. He scoffed at himself. What a sorry sap he was!
Shaking his head, he turned back to the window and tried to get his emotions in order. Damnation! He was not going to let Ellie worm her way under his skin ever again. For years, he'd done just fine not thinking of her—or at least, not much. He'd had his share of financial success, though often fleeting, and he'd had some sweet women to share his bed. He never wanted to feel that pain, that hatred, that self-loathing again. And she could do it to him, too, in an instant, as easily as blinking. He knew that.
Setting his jaw, Thaddeus leaned his head against the windowpane and watched the stars come out. Eventually, he yawned, acknowledging his own bone-deep tiredness.
Looking at the bed, he couldn't figure out how it could have shrunk so much. Could he really lie down on it and not touch her? His shoulder would be against hers and probably his hip and thigh, too. Perhaps he should sleep on the floor. But what if she needed him in the middle of the night and he didn't know it?
In another minute, Thaddeus climbed over the footboard and squeezed himself into the narrow space between Ellie and the wall. Staring at the low ceiling, he listened to her breathing. He could smell a faint floral fragrance in her hair, despite her sweat and her having been in a dirty boxcar. She was still a golden princess, as he'd always considered her.
Yes, he needed to keep his distance. All the same, he was going to do whatever it took to help her get well.
His body heavy with exhaustion, Thaddeus closed his eyes, wishing he could close down his thoughts as easily. He couldn't blame her for choosing Riley, though it hadn't simply stung; it had crushed him. He'd believed he and Ellie had an understanding, one that grew stronger every time she shot him one of her dazzling smiles, every time she gave him a little wave from her front porch when he went by—hell, every time he'd ever laid eyes on her or spoken with her.
But he'd had no prospects. His parents were long dead, his sister had been nearly a recluse though a successful writer, and him? He was a passing fair pupil in school; however, when learning was over, he was a bit of a scamp. More than a bit!
After all, Spring City was fairly tame, and a young man had to do what he could to liven it up. But a plan for the future always eluded him. Riley had been the smart one, always knowing he wanted to be a doctor, whereas Thaddeus had a vague idea that he would, perhaps, work at the feedstore for his friend Dan or at the town's only stable.
In the end, though, he couldn't stay and watch the girl he... he fancied over all the other girls marry his friend.
He'd begun riding the rails, quickly discovering the card palaces and the gaming halls. He found out that he was good at keeping numbers in his head and counting cards, which gave him the edge in some games. He even had good fortune with craps and twenty-one, sometimes winning big with the 10-to-1 blackjack bonus, though they weren't his preferred games. No, he chose poker over everything else, including faro, and when he won, he lived well; when he didn't, he didn't.
And then there was the mess with that vile wretch, Jason Farnsworth, who'd offered him a job before swindling him and trying to pin a murder on him. With coincidence, a great deal of luck, and help from her then-fiancé Reed Malloy, his older sister, Charlotte, had sorted out that heap of trouble.
However, that was a couple years earlier, and Thaddeus didn't need any help from anyone, anymore.
Except suddenly, he did. He sorely wished he knew what to do for El
lie. She may have cut him to the quick, basically demonstrating how worthless he was in front of all of Spring City, but he still cared if she lived or died. And now that her father was dead, she was alone in the world. At that moment, all she had was him.
She flung her hand out in her sleep, and the back of it slapped his chest before coming to rest on his arm. He reached down to move it, and as he did, she clasped his hand in hers, turning on her side to face him and resting her leg over his.
"Jesus!" he bit out. She was practically on top of him. She snuggled closer and lay her head on his bare chest, breathing deeply, seemingly comfortable for the first time since he'd found her. He sighed. It was going to be a long night. The next thing he knew, however, sleep relaxed his tense body and claimed his troubled thoughts.
Chapter 2
Two days later, after gallons of raisin tea and the whole vial of witch hazel, Ellie's fever broke for good.
Thaddeus was sitting in the chair in the corner of their bedroom, putting on his socks when she stirred as she had so many times previously. Her head turned, her eyes opened, and she looked directly at him. This time, however, her gaze struck him as clear and focused.
"Thaddeus," she said, as she had in the boxcar, her voice raspy with disuse. "Is that truly you?"
"Ellie!" He bounded from the chair to the bed in two strides and leaned over to place the back of his hand on her forehead. Thank heaven, she was cool.
He sat down beside her and picked up her hand while her watchful gaze roamed over him. Only then did he remember that he had no shirt on. He'd become so used to her presence in the room that he'd taken to dressing and undressing as if she wasn't there.
"How can you be here?" she asked, sounding confused and achingly vulnerable. Then she narrowed her eyes at him, and he thought he read wariness in her look.
Hearing her voice surprised him, like finding her all over again.
Before he could answer, she swallowed and winced. "I need water."
"I'll get you some," he said, standing up. Then he glanced back at her, adding unnecessarily, "Stay there."
She rolled her eyes, making him grin, and then she closed them, shutting him out.
He hurried to put on a shirt and charged out of the room and down the stairs, finding Mrs. Grindel, as he now knew was his hostess's name, scrubbing pots in the kitchen.
"She... uh, my wife is awake and thirsty."
"No wonder, after what she sweated out." She walked outside to the water pump and filled a bucket. Back in the kitchen, she handed him a cup of well water. "Tell her to take it slow."
Thaddeus nodded and hurried back to their room. Ellie's eyes were still closed, but they fluttered open when he sat down beside her on the edge of the bed.
"Water?" she asked.
"I've got some." He helped her sit up, and he brushed back from her face the stray locks of her fair hair that had escaped her braid. Then he held the cup to her lips. She took a gulp and he pulled it away.
"Don't drink too much."
She glanced longingly at the cup, then at his face.
"Why?" she asked.
He shrugged. Riley would have some scientific reason for it.
"I don't know. Mrs. Grindel said so."
Ellie's eyes narrowed again. "Who's Mrs. Grindel?"
"We're staying in her and her husband's rooming house."
She nodded, reaching for the cup anyway and managing to hold it on her own though her hand shook a little. She took another sip.
"How did I get here? With you?"
He rubbed his hand through his unruly brown hair.
"You're not going to believe this," he told her, "but I boarded a boxcar on a train bound for Chicago, and you were in it."
Her eyes widened, and she put her free hand to her head; then she dropped her gaze to the bed covers, wrinkling her forehead as she visibly tried to recall what had happened.
"I was going to Chicago too," she said, "but I didn't feel right. I decided I'd simply rest a bit on the train, and then I must have fallen asleep."
She looked at him and cocked her head. "I dreamed about you, and now, here you are."
"It wasn't a dream." Though it seemed like one. How else could they be together in the same room after all this time?
"I guess not," she agreed, sipping the last of the water. "Strange though. Implausible, really, don't you think, that you'd get into my boxcar?"
"Your boxcar?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Why wasn't Eliza Prentice, richest gal in Spring City, Colorado, in the passenger car or even in a sleeper with her own compartment?"
She shrugged, looking down at the bed covers. "Just trying to keep my presence on that train a secret."
"Why?"
Her head snapped up. "You ask a lot of questions, Thaddeus Sanborn," she said in the imperious tone he remembered so well.
Most folk in Spring had considered her a conceited terror, though Thaddeus always found her confidence somewhat awe-inspiring. Sometimes, it was even downright arousing—especially when she had her hands on her slender hips and she was giving someone a thorough tongue-lashing.
Then, he used to imagine snaking his arms around her, pulling her to him, and tasting on her lips the passion she exuded. But that was all before he went away.
"It's my turn," she continued. "What were you doing on that train, and why were you hitching a ride for free?"
He smiled at her, recognizing she'd changed the focus from her to him but letting her do it anyway.
"Free is always better, darlin'. I was heading to the next good poker game." No need to tell her what he wanted to pawn in Chicago.
"I see." She handed him the cup as if to a servant, without a thank you, before she started wriggling around to get more comfortable. When she moved her left leg, she caught her breath.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
She shot him a quick glance.
"Does what hurt?" The wary expression returned to her face.
"Your leg," he said. "I couldn't help but see you're injured."
She bristled, lifting the bedclothes and peeking underneath to see herself in nothing except her shift. Her cheeks reddened.
"You couldn't help but see because you took off my clothes and my stockings, and rolled me onto my stomach."
"You were feverish," he protested.
"What the deuce!" She raised her voice. "I suppose that gave you the right to strip me and examine my person without a by-your-leave?"
A loud knock at the door heralded the entrance of Mrs. Grindel, who barged in before either of them could say "Enter."
"Good to see you awake, girly, but what's all this hollerin' for?"
Thaddeus looked between Ellie and the old lady, wondering how to finesse this and keep the peace at the same time.
"She's a bit confused is all," Thaddeus said.
"Confused?" Ellie spat out. "I am not confused."
"Well, don't be yelling like that, girly. Not at your husband what's taken such good care of you. You're a lucky young lady indeed!"
Thaddeus cringed as Ellie's pink lips rounded into a perfect "O" of astonishment.
"My husband?" she sputtered, slicing through him with her glacier blue eyes.
This was going to unravel real fast if the Grindels found out they weren't married.
"I told you she was confused," Thaddeus said, with a weak shrug, giving Ellie's leg a warning squeeze at the same time.
Before Ellie could say anything else—ruining her reputation and getting them kicked out into the street by their properly pious hosts—Mrs. Grindel crossed her arms and became Thaddeus's champion. "This young fellow carried you in here, right off the train, tending to you night and day, trying to get your fever down. He's hardly left your side except to eat."
Instead of looking grateful, Ellie scowled at Thaddeus. "Why?"
He clenched his jaw. Jesus! Could she bend just a little?
He patted Ellie's hand and sent her an imploring look, begging her to go along with his pret
ense.
"What kind of husband would I be if I let you travel any farther with a festering wound and a raging fever? Of course I took you off the train to care for you. That's what a husband does for a wife, dear."
For a moment, Ellie's mulish expression indicated that she wouldn't play along. Then she sighed, and looking as unhappy as a horse on a boat, she muttered, "Of course."
"That's better," said Mrs. Grindel. "Now, do you have an appetite, girly?"
Ellie stared hard at Thaddeus for another long moment, then glanced at Mrs. Grindel. "Actually, I think I do."
"Best to start easy," the old lady cautioned. "Otherwise, your stomach won't appreciate it. I'll get you some broth and a little bread."
Ellie said nothing as the woman retreated. Then she looked at Thaddeus again with no trace of kindness. Rather, she seemed to be stewing.
"Husband and wife?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, which only served to draw Thaddeus's gaze to her bosom. Then he wrenched it back to her sour-looking face.
"How else was I going to get us a room here? They're Quakers or Protestants, or some such." He scrubbed a hand through his hair again, not caring that it was probably standing up on top of his head. Awake merely a few minutes and she was beyond infuriating him.
"Why?" She'd lowered her voice and stared at him with big questioning eyes.
He frowned. "Why what? What are you asking, Ellie?"
"Don't call me that."
"I always have."
"That was before," she said.
Before what? he wondered. Before she'd crushed his dreams of them being together? He shrugged.
"I don't care. You'll always be Ellie to me." He caught himself. His remark sounded as though they would know each other a long time. By the pout on her face, however, she'd be rid of him as soon as she felt well enough to travel. He'd be damned if he'd let her discard him. Again. He'd leave first.
He watched her take a deep breath, while her glance skittered around the room before resting on his face once more.
"Why did you help me? That's what I'm asking."
An Inescapable Attraction Page 2