Turner's Vision

by Suzanne Ferrell

  The quiet click the boys taught her to listen for sounded in the night.

  She braced her hands on Micah’s shoulders. Tapping lightly, she let him know she’d succeeded in unlocking the window.

  He lowered her down toward the ground. When she reached his eye level, he stopped her. With her feet still hanging in the air, he kissed her hard and fast, then set her on the ground beside him.

  Micah lifted the window, pulled on the ledge, and lifted himself up and through the window. Hunching down on his heels, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the storeroom’s dim lighting.

  To his surprise no one was inside.

  A sense of dread filled him. Surely the men he hunted would have guards on duty to protect slave property they planned to sell. No guard meant there was no one here to watch or they were so powerful they weren’t worried about detection.

  Dainty fingers tapping on the window’s outer ledge reminded him Claudia stood alone outside, vulnerable in the dark. He helped her up and into the warehouse, signaling her to remain quiet as they searched.

  Crates of various sizes and shapes packed the cavernous room. Markings on the outside showed many contained more of the opium they’d seen stored in the first warehouse. However, here there were also long, narrow crates and small barrels.

  Micah motioned Claudia to stop and hand him her knife. He wedged it into the corner of a flat crate and carefully pried it loose to see inside.

  Rifles. And the barrels were the government-standard-issue size to contain gunpowder.

  Damn, he hated being right.

  Surveying the layout as they once again maneuvered their way through the building, he identified five doors—the main entrance, a large, double side door which led out to the docks, and the office door near the front of the building. The remaining two doors were located at the rear of the large main storage room.

  Micah motioned to Claudia to follow him back toward the two rear doors, his heart pounding in his chest.

  What if he found Patrice there? What shape would she be in? Would she be alive or dead? And what if she weren’t there at all?

  He wasn’t sure which questions he wanted answered, let alone what answers he hoped to find.

  At the doors, Claudia’s small hand gently touched his own, stopping him once again. Looking back at her, he saw her shrug as if asking—which one?

  He stepped back and motioned for her to choose. She turned the knob on the right. It was open. She turned the knob on the left. It was locked. Her choice made, she knelt and pulled a hairpin from beneath her hat. With the precision the boys taught her, she worked the door’s internal mechanism. The click of the lock slipping filled the room’s silence.

  Claudia hopped up to stand next to Micah, an impish smile on her face at her accomplishment.

  He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You were right. Your skills as a lock pick are very handy.”

  When he opened the door a set of stairs led below the warehouse. He signaled for her to close the door, then took her hand, lit a match and started down the stairway. At the bottom of the stairs a lamp lay abandoned on the hallway floor. He lit it with another of his matches.

  Holding it up, he illuminated the long hall to reveal several doors. He followed Claudia’s example and tested each doorknob to eliminate the open ones. The last door in the hallway was locked tight. Micah stood to one side and held the lamp close for Claudia to work her magic once again.

  As he pushed the door open, the light cast eerie shadows across the room’s contents, revealing a huddled mass on a cot against the far wall.

  Claudia started through the door. Micah grabbed her arm, stopping her and shook his head. He motioned for her to remain in the doorway. Until he was sure who or what was on that cot, he meant to protect his wife.

  He moved through the small room as quietly as possible. At the cot he knelt and listened for breathing sounds to come from the body.

  When he heard a deep moan, he exhaled and turned the body toward him.

  It wasn’t Patrice.

  Thank God.

  The man was in very bad shape. He was dressed in sailor’s clothes, ripped apart from repeated lashes of a whip. Not only was the man bleeding from the cuts, but he’d been beaten with fists or some other blunt object that left bruises and cuts over his face. He felt along the man’s torso and extremities, determining that his right hand and lower arm were broken. He’d bet the man also had cracked ribs on both sides of his body.

  The man’s low moans during Micah’s inspection brought Claudia over from the door to investigate. Leaning over Micah’s shoulders she gasped at the sight of the man.

  “Can you tear up that cloth you brought into long strips?” Micah instructed as he pulled off the man’s tattered shirt. After he had it off, he reached up for the cloth from Claudia, but his hand remained empty.

  “Claudia, did you hear me?” He looked back at her to see if she was listening to his instructions. Seeing her pale face staring at the man, Micah grasped her around the wrist, diverting her attention from the sight and onto her task. “I know he looks bad, but if we can get his ribs bound now, he’ll tolerate the move much better.”

  At Micah’s touch and words, Claudia reached into her sweater where she’d carried the supplies, removed a long piece of white cloth and tore it into strips.

  Micah leaned the man up against his chest. “Tie the strips as tightly as you can around his body.”

  Once she’d bound the man’s torso, Micah laid the man back down on the cot, and she tore several smaller strips. Micah reached under the edge of the bed and pulled off two slats of wood. Moving the bones into as proper alignment as he could, Micah held the boards on each side of the man’s lower arm. Claudia again wrapped the strips around the boards and tied the cloth tight.

  When that was finished, Micah lifted the man up onto his shoulder, letting out a grunt at the man’s dead weight. Claudia lifted the lamp, leading the way back up the stairs. At the door, she turned out the lamp and opened the door.

  Micah eased the battered man’s unconscious body to the floor beside the window they’d entered earlier. Turning to his wife, he lifted her to sit on the window ledge. When she swung her legs outside the open window, he stopped her progress by squeezing her waist where his hands supported her. She looked up, puzzled.

  “Claudia, I can’t lower this man out the window to you,” he whispered. “Given his weight, you’d never be able to support him long enough for me to join you. Tell Henderson to bring the carriage around to the front entrance. Then I want you to get inside the carriage and stay there, no matter what. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but Micah…”

  “I’m going to be too busy getting him out of here to worry about you. For once do as I say.”

  He turned her around and lowered her steadily to the ground. He waited at the window until he saw her dart across the lane to the carriage and heard the horses move toward the front of the warehouse. Turning back to the inert body on the floor, he listened again for breathing sounds from the man. Satisfied that he still lived, Micah lifted him once more. Carrying him over his shoulder he wove his way through the warehouse to the main entrance. He wedged the man against the doorframe, then tried turning the knob.

  It was locked. There was no latch to turn. The lock required a key to open it from the outside.

  “Damn,” he swore to himself. “How do I get him out of here now?”

  He was considering kicking the door down, when a soft click echoed in the night. The door popped open to reveal Claudia standing outside.

  “Uh,” he grunted as he shifted the other man’s weight on his massive shoulders. He passed by his wife, giving her a quelling look and leaving her to close the door behind him.

  Claudia hurried past to help lift the man into the carriage. She adjusted the man on the opposite seat as Henderson started the horses for home, avoiding Micah’s eyes.

  Good thing. At this moment, he didn’t know whether to kiss her
or throttle her.

  With the canteen of water and extra cloth they had left behind them in the carriage, she dabbed at the dirt and cuts on the man’s face. Micah watched recognition cross Claudia’s face. Despite the swelling from what appeared to be the imprints of someone’s fist, she knew the man underneath.

  “Micah, you should send Henderson for Cain as soon as we get back to the house.” She continued to clean the swollen and purulent wounds.

  “Why is that, my dear?” Micah asked the question, but already knew the answer.

  “We’ve found Officer Howard.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The carriage drew up outside the brownstone and Micah lifted Howard’s limp body back onto his shoulders, passing Claudia’s instructions on to Henderson. Once inside the house he carried him to one of the upstairs rooms while Claudia hustled the boys into action.

  “Adam, go over to Dr. Schulman’s and bring him back here as quick as you can. Joey fetch me clean sheets and my sewing scissors from the downstairs parlor.”

  Lying Noah on the bed, Micah was glad the other man was unconscious for the torment that awaited him. He watched his wife enter the room and again wondered what feelings she had for the man on the bed. Noting the worry on her face, he stilled Claudia’s hands as she reached to cut the remainder of the dirty, blood-encrusted clothes from him.

  “You go down and get what you need. I’ll get him ready for the doctor.”

  “It’s okay, Micah. After all, I’m a married woman now. The sight of a naked man won’t make me blush.”

  She stood her ground with that defiant look on her face. Only a logical explanation would get her out of this room now.

  “My dear, the only naked man you’ve seen is me and I don’t think that gives you the right to go around viewing all the naked men you know.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up one hand. “The extent of Officer Howard’s wounds may be more than you’re used to seeing. From the smell, some may be festering. Allow me to strip him quickly, while you see to boiling the things the doctor will need.”

  He held the door for her, motioning for her to relinquish the scissors. “That task may be more important to saving his life than removing his clothing, wouldn’t you say?”

  Claudia gave a sigh of resignation, handing him the scissors as she walked out into the hallway. “I nursed my father for years. I’m not as delicate as you seem to think, Micah.”

  “I know, love.” He kissed the tip of her nose as she started for the stairs. “It’s your size that gives me that impression, you know.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him before descending.

  Micah walked back to the bed and began cutting the rotting material from Noah’s body.

  “I don’t know how much you can hear me or what there was between you and Claudia before you disappeared, Howard, but she’s mine now and I don’t share.” He doubted the man could hear him, but he needed to warn him off. The taste of jealousy in his mouth was distasteful. He hoped saying the words out loud would take the bitterness out of them. “Let that sink into whatever awareness you have. I’ll help her save your life, not because of what you mean to her, but because you may know something about my sister, Patrice.”

  “Patrice…” The hoarse murmur escaped from the man’s parched lips.

  Micah froze, a little shock that the officer recognized the name. “Do you know my sister, Patrice?”

  “Patrice…brother…kill…must get back…” Howard opened glazed eyes. He reached up to grab Micah’s shirtfront and lift himself up off of the bed. “Gold…reserve…warn Colonel.”

  “Yes, we know about the gold reserve, Howard. Lie back down until the doctor is here.”

  Micah eased him back onto the bed, prying the man’s fingers loose from his shirt. He cut away the last of the man’s trousers and pulled up the quilt to cover the bloody wounds there. Leaning closer, he tried again to get some information about his sister. “Do you know where Patrice is?”

  “Patrice…lovely…sweet…” He took a ragged breath, and fell into oblivion again.

  “Micah, the doctor’s here.” Adam opened the door to admit an older, white haired man into the room. “Criminy. He took some kind of beatin’.”

  “That he did, Adam. You go down and see if Claudia needs any help, then both of you boys put the carriage and horses away once Henderson and Cain get here.”

  “Yes sir.” The boy left the room, shaking his head.

  “I’m Dr. Schulman.” The white haired physician introduced himself in a thick European accent as he removed his jacket. “Can you tell me what happened to your friend here?”

  “I’m Micah Turner, sir. This is Noah Howard, an agent for the army. My best guess is he was kidnapped while on a highly secret mission and tortured to extricate information. I discovered him tonight, and brought him directly here to be treated. I don’t know how long he’s been like this. Possibly two weeks.”

  “Mmm…hmm.” The doctor examined the extent of Noah’s injuries. Fingering the bandages on the ribs and arm, he murmured, “Good, good. Can you help me turn him over?” He pulled on Noah’s uninjured arm while Micah pushed him up onto his side and held him for the doctor.

  “It’s been many years since I served on a ship, but I would say this man has had the displeasure of meeting up with a cat o’ nine tails. He has a very hard fight in front of him.”

  Walking over to his bag, the older man signaled Micah to lower Noah back to the bed. The physician took out several bottles and set them on the table next to the bed. He looked up and smiled as Claudia entered the room carrying a steaming kettle of water and a basin.

  “My dear, I didn’t think I would be seeing you again quite this soon. We are in familiar surroundings, no?”

  “Yes, Dr. Schulman.” Claudia set her burden down on the table, instructing Joey to lay the towels and bandages beside them. “Have you met my husband? Micah this is our family friend and doctor, Isaac Schulman.”

  “Husband?” The doctor lifted his bushy eyebrows in surprise and turned quickly to look at Micah more closely. Apparently deciding he liked what he saw, his face split into a wide grin. “Good, good. A strong man is what you need to keep you out of trouble, no?”

  “Yes.” Micah agreed, this time his own smile answered the older man’s. “It’s just what she needs.”

  “What do you need me to do first?” Claudia asked, hoping her question would change the subject from her own embarrassment and bring the two grinning males around to the task at hand.

  “First, I believe we will need to bathe his arm and hand, so that we can set the breaks. While you are doing that, I will mix up a poultice to help draw out the pus.” Directing Micah out the door, Dr. Schulman asked, “I will need several smaller bowls, if you please. One large enough to wash my hands.”

  He closed the door against Micah’s protest, then turned to Claudia and smiled. “Claudia, I do believe that young man feels threatened by our young patient, here. It is a good thing for a husband to be possessive of his wife, no?”

  “I don’t think you should read more into our marriage than necessary, Dr. Schulman.” Claudia kept her face centered on the task of cleaning the dirt and crusted blood from Noah’s body. “Micah married me to keep an eye on me. He feels some unnecessary need to protect me and he forced me to agree to marry him. There was no great profession of love on his part—or mine either, for that matter. I would say our marriage is more a business arrangement than anything else.”

  “As you say, Frau Turner.”

  The doctor busied himself, laying out various instruments he would need, such as scissors and probes and needles to place in the pan of boiling water, thankfully letting the subject of her marriage go—for the moment. She knew he’d broach the subject once their work was done. Hopefully, by then, she’d have her own emotions about her marriage under control.

  Despite what the doctor seemed to believe, she was under no misconception about Micah, or his reasons for marrying her. Whi
le he seemed to take great pleasure in teaching her about the benefits of their marriage bed, she didn’t doubt for a moment that he harbored no special feelings for her—possessive, protective or loving.

  Micah returned with the extra basins. “Henderson is back.”

  “Is Cain with him?” Claudia asked, filling one of the bowls with hot water.

  “His houseman said he was out for the evening. We’ll have to get word to him tomorrow.”

  Claudia nodded, then focused on helping the elderly physician.

  Dr. Schulman washed his hands from fingertips to the elbows in the boiled water. With Micah holding Noah’s torso still on the bed for him, he began the laborious procedure of opening the wounds that were raised, red and irritated from the purulent fluid trapped inside.

  At first Micah had to turn his head away from the stench, swallowing hard to fight back his own bile. After a few minutes, he was able to stand the sight and smell to be of actual use to the physician.

  As soon as the wounds on one part of the body had been opened, Claudia laid steaming-hot towels onto the area to help drain them and increase circulation to the area. When the wounds bled only fresh blood, the doctor filled in the area with a poultice of mixed herbs and molds.

  He explained that in the old country, the herbs and molds brought about healing properties and fought further festering of the injuries.

  Then the affected areas were bound with layers of clean, white cloth.

  After all of the cuts on Noah’s front had been treated, and his right hand and arm reset, Micah carefully turned the unconscious man over to expose his back, where the most serious wounds remained to be treated. The process took more than six hours. The pink and lavender rays of dawn had broken through the night sky when they finally had all the wounds treated and Noah rested quietly.

  The doctor and Claudia looked exhausted from their efforts as they finished cleaning up their supplies, and Micah felt the same.

  “Claudia, I would like to remain here for the next day or two.” Dr. Schulman stood, feeling his patient’s pulse and skin for signs of fever.