Emily saw Angelina's lips moving silently as she worked and she guessed the girl was praying for Mary Ann's recovery. Although she herself tended to agree with Mrs. Gonzales that a miracle would be required to save the poor girl, she added her own heartfelt plea to Angelina's.
An added worry also nagged at Emily. Where could Zach be? Why wasn't he here when he was needed? He might not get back in time even to speak to his sister now. That would be awful!
Then another horrid thought occurred to her. What if he and Jake had an altercation? At this very moment, he might be lying somewhere wounded or even dead! She'd feel much better if and when he showed up, but he'd get a piece of her mind when he did. He should have been here, darn him!
~*~
Zach heeled the bay into a trot although he sensed the horse was tired. He'd made the twenty-five mile trip to Benson and was now on his way back to Tombstone. With the intention of scouting out a safe but not too obvious route by which he could take Mary Ann to catch the train, he'd started off early. And he'd found a way, at least a path a horse could negotiate, much nearer the river than the regular road.
Getting his dispatches ready to go on the eastbound train had taken more time than he intended. Then, although the stationmaster insisted Zach stay for dinner, when he saw it was almost two o'clock, he begged off and started for Tombstone.
Now, as the sun sank close to the edge of the Whetstones, he followed the road home. If Mary Ann could only ride, he'd have no problem, but since he'd probably have to use a wheeled vehicle, he had no choice but to go on the public road. That would leave them obvious and vulnerable, should Jake get wind of what was going on. He did not like that at all.
Zach huffed out a breath in frustration as he checked the horse, slowing to a walk once more. The pace gnawed on his nerves, but there was no sense pushing the animal to exhaustion even though he had a nagging hunch he needed to get back to Tombstone as soon as he could. A hunch that had plagued him all afternoon.
The bay was such a good horse, he'd arranged with the stable owner to purchase it. He'd made the first payment today, in fact, before setting off. Not that he'd abuse any animal, but since the gelding was now his, he felt doubly responsible for his mount. Fifty miles was a good trek for even a well-conditioned horse, so the beast had every reason to be weary.
Fortunately, he hadn't ridden for a couple of days and the horse was being fed well. He'd driven it to alternately walk and trot, keeping up a steady if not speedy pace all day. But at the moment, he wanted to be in Tombstone, not some point still several miles to the north. He fought the urge to spur the bay and force it into a lope, at least.
What could be wrong that a sixth sense kept telling him to hurry? Maybe Emily had another run-in with Jake. If the gambler started bothering her, Zach would have yet another reason to go after him. Although if Jake had accosted Emily, the act would be partly Zach's fault since Jake had seen them together. He already had reason to want Zach out of his way, but Jake should have no fight with Emily, unless he felt they were connected in some way.
Zach hadn't spoken to Emily-no, Miss Dennison-for several days and their quarrel had begun to weigh on his conscience. He had to admire her spunk and independence. He even almost agreed with her determination not to be dependant on any man for her livelihood and well-being. Had Mary Ann developed similar self-reliance, she would not be in the fix she'd gotten herself into. But she'd never had the chance, leaving home at such a tender age.
For a few seconds, Zach thought longingly of his simple and boring existence back in Philadelphia. Life had certainly grown complicated since he came to Tombstone! But then, he'd been looking for excitement and adventure, had he not? And assuredly, he had found both.
Although Zach didn't mind skipping a meal now and then, he had missed two today. His stomach thought his throat had been cut and growled in protest. Of course dinner would be long past when he reached Tombstone, but perhaps there would be something left over that he could eat to tide him over him until breakfast.
While he tried not to push matters too far, he knew he had Mrs. Cashman's sympathies. She might bend a rule for him in this case. Normally, if you were not there at mealtime, you didn't get fed, but he'd not just been careless of the time or too lazy to be there at the proper hour.
He shifted in the saddle, which felt now as if it were made of cast iron, and rolled his shoulders to relieve a little of their stiffness. This had been a long day. Again he urged the bay into a trot and stood in the stirrups, in spite of the protest of his leg muscles, to give his rear end a break. Fifty miles was a darn long ride.
By the time he stabled the bay and walked three blocks back to the boarding house, he figured it must be after ten. Still, a light shown through the kitchen window, indicating someone was there working. Good, maybe he had a chance for some food.
When he paused outside the back door, he saw Emily at the sink, washing the last of the supper dishes. Maybe she'd be sympathetic to his hungry state. He knocked softly to get her attention. At the sound, she spun around, shaking soapsuds off her hands.
"Who is it? What do you want?" Her expression sharpened with concern, perhaps even fear.
"It's only me, Zach. Is the door latched?"
"Yes, Nellie told us to keep it fastened. Not that the flimsy thing would deter anyone determined to come in, but at least they'd make some noise and not catch us unawares."
Emily peered through the screen at him before she finally unlatched the door. She certainly seemed aggravated.
"What are you doing, sneaking in the back way? Where have you been all day? We surely could have used your help!"
"I'm not sneaking, I knocked! Actually, I was hoping for something to eat. I know the rule, but I didn't miss supper on purpose or through carelessness. I've been all the way to Benson and back today, a good fifty miles. What's wrong?"
Turning back toward the sink, she hesitated a moment, looking from him to the stack of clean dishes on the counter. Her brow wrinkled with consternation.
"Nellie is still upstairs with Mary Ann and Doctor Zangler. But I don't suppose she'd mind..."
Zach's heart stumbled, lurched and speeded up. Had he heard right-Mary Ann here at Nellie's with a doctor? "Mary Ann's upstairs? What is she doing here? And why the doctor?"
"Angelina's brother came right at dinner time," Emily began. Zach listened intently while she related all that had happened. He heard the tension, the anger and indignation in her voice, but deemed her feelings were mild in comparison with his.
"That misbegotten son of a..." Zach struggled for control and swallowed the crude words he wanted to say. Emily had never acted like anything less than a lady, in spite of some of the odd things she said and the questions he had not quite gotten brave enough to ask. He would not use foul language in her presence, no matter the provocation. "Is, well, is she going to be all right?"
"I hope so," Emily replied, her tone fervent and earnest. "When Nellie came down about an hour ago to get some medications she keeps in the pantry, she said she thought Mary Ann would make it, if infection doesn't set in. I didn't dare ask about the baby."
To hell with the baby! Zach didn't say the words aloud, but he really couldn't care less about the child. As far as he could see, it would do Mary Ann no good to be saddled with the feckless gambler's bastard for the next twenty years. Now, if they could just keep her here until she was able to travel, his task of getting her out of Tombstone and on her way home would be that much easier.
"Here, I've dished up some stew." Emily set a plate down in front of him. "We had a little left over. Too bad there's not a micro...er...Angelina and I cooked and served dinner tonight. You'll have to eat this cold as I don't think it would reheat too well and the fire is almost out, anyway. Our cooking probably isn't up to Nellie's standards, but we tried. At least everyone was fed, and this stew will carry you 'til breakfast."
She spoke rapidly, changing subjects so fast he could hardly keep up. Well, no matter. He'd try
to sort her jumbled words out later. Zach ate, mildly surprised how good cold stew tasted, especially after Emily found a couple of biscuits and one thin slice of the midday's apple pie. He ate everything with gusto before he stood, stretched tired and aching muscles, and yawned hugely.
"All I want to do now is sleep for about sixteen hours, but I must check on Mary Ann first. Do you think they'll let me see her?"
"Goodness only knows. Nellie shooed us out, once the doctor got here. She said we needed to take care of supper, but I think she also believed there'd be sights unfit for young women's delicate sensibilities. What she considers appropriate for a brother to view, I could not even guess."
Zach heard more than a trace of acerbity in Emily's tone, which was not unexpected. She clearly had no patience with being sheltered. He had to wonder again at her upbringing, though her past was really none of his affair.
"I want to thank you, both for feeding me and for all you've done to help Mary Ann. If she pulls through, thanks will be more due to you than to me. Had I only guessed something like this would happen so soon. Maybe I should have, but I was trying to find a route to Benson that would keep us off the public road so I could take her safely to the train. Once that was clear, I was going to get her out of that shanty and..."
In spite of his best efforts, his voice cracked. He turned quickly away. Better to run off abruptly than have Emily see him close to tears. In the darkened hallway, he stopped to try to compose himself before going upstairs. The enormity of all that had occurred would not allow him to grow calm.
Mary Ann could have died. She might still die. He wanted to kick something, to howl like a bereaved coyote, to tear Jake McEuen apart joint by joint. But he could do none of those things right now. The frustration ate at his soul.
He didn't hear Emily approach behind him, didn't realize he was no longer alone until she put her hand on his arm.
"It's not your fault, Zach," she said softly. "There was no way you could know. You were doing the best you could, trying to plan a way to save her. Don't blame yourself for what happened."
He turned toward her, raised both hands to her shoulders. He thought he meant to push her away, to tell her to go mind her own business. His nerves were too raw to deal with sympathy at this point, but instead, he responded to another urge, one he'd hardly recognized he had. Instead of pushing her away, he drew her closer, until they stood face-to-face, just short of touching.
In the weak light reflected from the kitchen, her face appeared a pale oval marked by the two dark almonds of her eyes. The scent of spices and home cooking clung to her clothing, but her hair smelled of spring meadows, clover and wild honey. She was warm and vibrant and very much alive. He bent to find her lips, covering them with his, forgetting all for the moment. He lost himself in the feel and taste and scent of her. Only then did he realize this was something he had wanted to do from the first.
Even when he picked her up in the street, dressed in her urchin's denim, he'd been tempted to play the fairy tale prince and see if he could kiss her awake. Perhaps now he kissed himself into oblivion, but it was no less sweet.
~*~
At the touch of Zach's lips on hers, shocking heat zinged through Emily's body. She'd been kissed before, of course, but Rich's kisses had never been like this nor those of any of the few other boys and men she'd dated. An arc danced between her brain and her toes, settling somewhere low in her abdomen. She felt a brief twinge of conscience-she should not be comparing anyone to Rich and finding Rich wanting. She loved him, she always would. But he was gone and she was-here.
She'd only meant to comfort Zach, torn by the distress so evident in his slumped posture, the tension radiating from his body in painful waves. Of course he was frustrated, burdened with needless guilt, and rage without an outlet. She knew similar emotions although for a different cause, and thought he should know he was not alone.
The kiss washed all this careful thought from her mind. She rose on tiptoes to lock her arms around his neck, let her fingers weave into the thick waves of his hair. When he finally lifted his head and broke the contact, she could not say whether seconds or hours had passed. He dropped his hands from her shoulders to her waist and set her back from him a half step.
"Forgive me," he said. "I had no right to take such liberties. I can only plead being distraught, a poor excuse at best. But that was not a proper way to accept your well-meant sympathy."
Emily took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Think 1889, not 2000, she reminded herself. He might expect a slap, but she could not bring herself to do that. She could still feel the tingle of excitement, all the way to her curled toes. For an unintentional kiss, it was extraordinary. She'd be quite willing to try again, just to be sure this first time wasn't a fluke. But no demure nineteenth century girl would admit that, would she?
"I understand," she said, making an effort to keep her voice bland and steady. "And I am equally to blame, perhaps being too forward. You needn't apologize. Go on up and see your sister." She stepped back to clear his way to the stairs.
"But I must apologize, for my remarks a few days past if nothing else. You were right, and if Mary Ann had held a bit more of your independent spirit, I am sure she'd not have come to this sad pass."
"I accept your apology," Touched that he would think of her feelings at this time and place, Emily wanted to say more, but was not sure what. "Sometimes perhaps I am too independent for my own good. My father used to tell me so. He said I should strive to be more like the other girls, the daughters of his fellow officers."
"No." Zach sounded very positive. "You're-it's best to be true to yourself rather than try to be what others ask of you."
He hesitated another moment, but Emily could think of nothing else to add. He turned at last and slowly climbed the stairs. As she walked back to the kitchen to put out the lamp, she reached up and touched her lips lightly, wondering if they looked as unusual as they felt. Surely, such a powerful contact would leave some mark behind.
"I don't want this," she whispered, a sharp pain lancing through to intertwine with her brief exaltation. I can't allow this attraction, can't even begin to become tied to this world where books are a luxury, where women are mere beasts of burden-nearly slaves-where I'll never fit in! I can only bear this interlude if it's temporary, like a vacation tour to see some exotic place firsthand. As soon as I do whatever I was brought back to do, I want to go home!
CHAPTER EIGHT
May 15, 1889
Emily and Angelina were struggling to prepare breakfast when Nellie stumbled out of her room. Try as she might, Emily could not get one egg to break cleanly without the yoke breaking, too. And none of the boarders liked scrambled eggs. She muttered under her breath, stopping when she heard the door creak. She turned to face Nellie, asking the question foremost in her mind.
"How is Mary Ann? Is she going to be all right?"
The long night and little sleep showed on Nellie's face, adding years to her normal appearance. Her hair hung in tangles, not yet neatly braided as usual, although she had put on a clean dress. She shrugged.
"As good as could be expected, I would say. She lost the baby, of course, but under the circumstances, that's a blessing. Now all her energies can go to healing herself. Can you girls manage things for another half hour or so? I'm having difficulty getting started this morning."
Casting a despairing look at the eggs, congealed into an unappetizing mass in the frying pan, Emily nodded. She simply couldn't add to Nellie's burden right now. Somehow, she'd manage. "Oh yes, we'll be fine, and the boarders will get fed. They may grumble, but they'll get fed!"
Nellie smiled faintly and murmured, "Thanks."
Later in the morning, when Emily managed a few minutes to go see Mary Ann, she found the girl asleep, and tiptoed out again without disturbing her. At mid-afternoon she went back again. This time, even she could see something was not right. Mary Ann's eyes were open, but they looked dull and glazed, and her face had an unhealthy
reddish cast.
A chill dread settled in Emily's chest. What Nellie had feared seemed to be taking place. Infection. In 2000, Mary Ann could be treated with antibiotics, but what did they have in 1889? Next-to-nothing, Emily suspected.
Starting down the hall, she skidded to a sudden stop, a flicker of hope brightening in her mind. She dashed to her room, yanked open the bureau drawer in which she'd stashed her denims and fanny pack beneath folded linens. Snatching the pack from its hiding place, she turned to the bed.
About a month before her scheduled wedding, she'd had an abscessed tooth pulled. When her dentist prescribed antibiotics, the druggist had misread the prescription and gave her over twice the number of capsules she was supposed to take. She'd remembered tucking the vial away with the extras still inside, but not where. Could it possibly be in her pack, which she frequently carried instead of a purse?
With shaking hands, she unzipped the black pouch and dumped its contents on her bed. Keys, change, lipstick, Kleenex, a pencil, ticket stubs. And a brown plastic bottle. Emily twisted off the lid and counted out the capsules inside. Twelve. The dozen red and white pills might save Mary Ann's life, but how was she going to explain them?
For a long moment, Emily looked down at the capsules, questions and possibilities buzzing through her mind. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, nibbled until it hurt. Though her thoughts ran in frantic circles, they kept returning to the same answer.
I've just got to tell the truth, show them my calculator and anything else I can think of as proof and hope they will believe me. I've got to tell Nellie and Zach, at least. Even if they do think I'm crazy, if this will save Mary Ann's life, it's not too big a price to pay,
She dropped the capsules back into the vial, put the lid on, and settled them deep in the pocket of her apron. The sooner Mary Ann began to take the drug, the better off she'd be. Emily hurried out to search for Nellie, suspecting the older woman would have better luck getting Mary Ann to take the medicine than she would.
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