by Lucy Evanson
Penny couldn’t contain a soft snort. It rankled her to hear this woman using Lord Wellstone’s given name. Probably already counting his money, she thought.
“I’m afraid I do,” he said.
“Melanie, maybe you could read after dinner?”
“Sorry, Polly,” she said. “I just want to finish this page.”
“I’ve never seen a woman read as much as she does,” David said. “You know, if you spend all your time reading, you’re going to miss what goes on in the real world.”
Melanie raised a finger as she finished the last sentence, then put her bookmark in place. “That’s assuming that the real world is preferable to the book,” she finally said as she put the novel aside. “From what I’ve seen lately, it usually isn’t. I don’t think I’m missing anything. It’s a shame you don’t read, in fact.”
“David reads,” Polly said. “When he was a boy, you could hardly get his nose out of his books.”
“Really? I’m surprised,” Melanie said. “Shocked, actually.”
“Oh, sure. I remember one summer when he read the same book three times. It was that one about the Indians, wasn’t it?”
“Last of the Mohicans,” David said.
“You told me you didn’t read very much,” Melanie said. “Or was that part of the little trick you were playing?”
“No, that’s the truth,” he said. “I just don’t have time for it anymore.”
Melanie shrugged. “If it were really important to you, you’d make time.”
He leaned back in his chair and yawned. “I suppose so. Right now, though, I’m too busy running the ranch,” he said. “You know, to put food on the table for us. And our guests.”
Melanie’s cheeks grew pink. “Thank you for dinner, by the way,” she mumbled. “And for letting me stay here. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. He glanced at Polly. “You all right?”
Polly was propping her head up with one hand and massaging her temple. Her eyes drifted shut and she let out a soft groan. “Lord, my head aches something fierce,” she muttered. “Just need some rest, most likely.”
“Do you want me to get you something?” Melanie asked.
“No, I’ll be fine,” she said. “I think I’ll just go have a glass of water.” She pushed her chair back and stood up, then reached for the platter in the center of the table.
“I’ll help you,” Melanie said, rising from her chair.
“Sit down, honey,” Polly said. She squeezed Melanie’s shoulder and gently pushed her back into her seat. “You had a heck of a long trip down here. Relax for now. Enjoy your book.” She gathered a few other dirty dishes and went into the kitchen. The door had barely swung shut when there was a clatter, like crockery breaking, and a heavy thump on the floorboards. As though a body had fallen.
Melanie twisted in her chair. “Polly?”
Before she could even begin to get up, David rose from his seat and was already halfway around the table. Melanie’s chair caught on an uneven floorboard and fell backwards as she also rushed toward the kitchen. David pushed open the door just as she reached his side.
The sight in the kitchen turned her blood cold. There, among the broken plates and scattered steak bones, Polly lay face-down, unmoving, on the floor.
Chapter 5
Melanie had known many men in her life, of course. Some had taken longer than others to understand. Randall, for example, had been wily and cautious about revealing his true self, and she hadn’t seen the chameleon’s true colors until she’d known him for some time. Other men she sized up much faster. Like David. She had known him for all of eight hours, and she hadn’t needed nearly that much time to understand what kind of man he was. Or, rather, what kind of boy he was, for that was what he reminded her of more than anything else. A mischievous, immature, too-clever boy.
The problem with snap judgments, however, was that they were wrong on occasion. An hour earlier, Melanie would never have guessed that David would be the one to keep his head best in an emergency. In fact, had she been forced to imagine such a scenario, she would have pictured herself as a second Nightingale, and David as a stuttering, clumsy oaf. Yet here she was, frozen in place, jaw agape and blocking the doorway while David leaped into action.
He was at Polly’s side in a flash, kneeling among the shattered plates, and he gently turned her onto her back. Her eyes were closed. David brushed her hair out of her eyes—a gesture that Melanie would later remember as oddly tender—and leaned close.
“Polly, come on around,” he said quietly as he laid his hand against her cheek, like a father would to a sick child. “Can you hear me? Wake up now.”
There was a soft groan from deep in her throat, but no other reaction from her. She was as limp in his arms as a bundle of rags. David put his ear up to her face. “Seems like she’s breathing fine,” he murmured, then put his head to her chest. “And her heart sounds strong.”
“Has this ever happened before?”
“Never,” he said, and Melanie could see the muscles in his jaw tighten. “She’s healthy as a horse.”
Except that even horses get sick, Melanie thought, and she remembered that horrible morning when her father woke her up so many years ago. And even horses die, sooner or later. The thought made it feel like her belly was full of ice water. This is too serious to just wait and see what happens, she thought, but before she could speak, David beat her to it again.
“She needs the doctor,” he said, as he bent over Polly’s body and scooped her up in his arms, then got to his feet as easily as if she were only a baby. “Comin’ through there,” he said, and only then did Melanie think to get out of his way. She followed him through the dining room to the parlor, where David gingerly laid Polly on the sofa, arranging pillows beneath her head and legs.
“I need you to go out behind the barn. The field hands should still be eating supper out there. Go find one of them, explain what happened and tell him to ride hard for the doctor,” he said.
“Well, all right,” Melanie said, “but shouldn’t you do that?”
His gaze didn’t waver from Polly. “I’m not leaving her,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Go, now. And actually, find out the guy’s name first. You send anybody but Barney. You got that? Anybody but him.”
Melanie hurried out, taking only a brief look back before she left. David had taken a knee at Polly’s side and was watching her with a seriousness that took her by surprise. Considering that this was the same man who tried to charge her fifty cents for a ride up the hill, this concern for another was a welcome change.
It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how strong he looked. He was clenching and unclenching his fist, like he was ready to slug whatever Polly’s problem was, and she could see the muscled ridges in his forearms. His shoulders were broad and his waist was trim; he looked like the kind of man who was used to overpowering his problems. Too bad that won’t work today, she thought.
She rushed outside and down the porch steps, letting the front door bang shut behind her as she hurried to the barn. Long before she made it to the shady side, she could hear men talking and laughing, and when she turned the corner she found a long table set up. Around a dozen men sat there, ranging from teenagers with wispy mustaches to gray-headed grandfathers, and their conversation abruptly died as she burst into view.
“You,” Melanie called, pointing at the man closest to her. “Are you Barney?”
All of them stared at her with some measure of surprise. “No,” the man said finally. He pointed across the table to an older man with a thin face and a bushy handlebar mustache. “That’s Barney. I’m Willie.”
“Willie, I need you to come with me,” Melanie said. “David sent me down here. It’s an emergency.”
He glanced at the others at the table, but made no move to get up.
“Now!”
Perhaps it was innate good sense, or perhaps Polly had trained the men how to respond to
a female voice. In any case, once Melanie shouted, Willie jumped up and followed her around the corner, where she explained what had happened and sent him on his way. While he hurriedly saddled a horse and made for the trail back to Mineral Point, Melanie returned inside.
She found Polly alone in the parlor now. Melanie stepped to her side and took her aunt’s hand; it seemed for a moment that she was going to rouse, since her eyelids fluttered a bit, but then she calmed.
“Polly, it’s me,” she said. There was no response, but her aunt’s breath was deep and regular. If she hadn’t known better, she would have guessed that Polly was simply resting there. She squeezed her hand and went to the kitchen.
David was just setting a kettle of water to boil. His head whipped around as he heard the floorboards creak, but his wide-eyed gaze crumbled as he saw that it was only her. “You sent somebody?”
“Willie,” Melanie said. “He took off like a shot. How long do you think it will take them to get back here?”
He shook his head. “If he finds the doctor right away, it might be only half an hour or so.” He moved the kettle a hair to the left, as if that were going to make the water boil faster.
“What are you doing?”
“Just making some tea,” he said. “It seems like she’s resting comfortably; there wasn’t much else to do that I could think of.”
“Not until the doctor gets here,” Melanie agreed. “I wouldn’t have guessed you were a tea drinker.”
“I’m not. It’s for Polly. She’s going to wake up any minute now,” he said. He tried hard to inject steel into his voice, but it cracked slightly at the end. He clenched his jaw and cleared his throat.
Melanie pretended not to notice and simply nodded. “I’m sure she’ll like that,” she said. “So...why didn’t you want Barney to go to town?”
He turned to look at her. His eyes were watery, but she pretended not to notice that either. “Did you see Barney out there?”
“Yes, I did,” she said. “Is it because he’s old?”
“Not just that,” David said. “He’s got a bum ankle. And he’s sweet on Polly.”
“What? Really?”
“Really. Neither one of them has said a word about it—at least, not to me—but I’m pretty sure something’s going on between them,” he said. “Last thing we need is him racing to town and falling off his horse ‘cause he’s all worked up about Polly. That could kill a man his age.”
“You’re right,” Melanie said. “It seems like you actually thought of everything. Myself, I was...well, useless. Sorry.”
He snorted. “I was just faster,” he said. “You would have done just fine.”
“Well, anyway, I appreciate what you did,” Melanie said. “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to her.”
“No, me neither.”
“I mean, I know that you’re close to her too, but she’s my favorite aunt,” Melanie said. “She’s some of the last family I have left.”
David’s gaze seemed to soften for an instant, but then he again clenched his jaw and turned to stare at the kettle on the stovetop.
“I’m going to go check on her,” she said.
He nodded, but said nothing more.
~ ~ ~
Family. That’s what Polly seemed like to David, so much so that he had to remind himself from time to time that it wasn’t actually true. She was an employee. He didn’t remember a time without her, and David would have been hard-pressed to name another person working at the ranch who had changed his diapers, but she was still an employee. Same as Barney, same as Willie, same as any of the others who did their work and got their pay.
That had become wildly apparent in the few hours that Melanie had been on the ranch. Polly was something of a homebody, and as far as he could figure it, she had only seen Melanie once in the last five or six years, when Polly had gone to Peshtigo for her brother’s funeral. Yet when those two girls saw each other, they got to talking like they’d seen each other just yesterday.
He frowned. Polly had a bond with Melanie that she didn’t have with him. It didn’t matter that she had kissed his boo-boos. Didn’t matter that she had given him his baths. Didn’t matter that she had tucked him in a million times. He was still just the boss’s boy—and now the boss himself. Family was stretching it.
He didn’t have that bond with anybody, in fact. It had died along with his parents. To have a connection like that again, I’d have to settle down with one woman. Get myself hitched and start having kids. Even considering that was enough to make his mouth go dry. Hell, I can’t even tell what spooks me more: the idea of being all on my own, or the opposite. Best not to think about it.
The kettle began to whistle. David pulled it from the fire, then retrieved a teapot from the cupboard. It struck him just then that by even thinking about making the tea, he had given himself a couple of bad options. If he made the tea and Polly didn’t wake up, then there would be this teapot lurking here in the kitchen as a reminder that things had gone very, very wrong. If he didn’t make the tea and she did wake up, then it would seem like he had given up on her too soon. And if he didn’t make the tea and she didn’t wake up...well, then the tea would be the last of his worries.
David rubbed his eyes. He hated second-guessing himself, and it wasn’t something he would normally do. This, however, was not a normal day. I just need to think about my options and do what’s best for her.
He decided that he would perform an act of faith; he sprinkled a good heap of tea leaves into the pot and then poured in the hot water. David folded a towel and placed it on top to keep it warm—something he had learned from Polly—and then returned to join Melanie in the parlor. He may not have been family, but he was damn well sure going to stick close.
They waited there, watching her in silence until the doctor arrived. Doc Sullivan was one of those men who seemed to hardly age—or rather, his hair had gone white so early that it was just hard to notice any changes in him. He greeted David with the briefest handshake as he entered the parlor, going directly to kneel alongside Polly and opening his bag.
“She collapsed in the kitchen,” David said, “and we brought her in here.”
Sullivan nodded, but was quiet. He took Polly’s wrist and nodded again after a time, apparently satisfied with her pulse, then pressed his head against her chest. “She seems fine at first glance,” he said, after listening for a moment.
“I thought so too,” David said. “But we couldn’t get her to wake up.”
The doctor dug in his bag and pulled out a small vial. “Let’s see if smelling salts do the trick.” He uncapped the vial and slowly waved it under Polly’s nose.
“Whoooo!” Polly’s eyes flashed open almost immediately, and she clasped her hands to her face to block out the odor.
Sullivan chuckled. “I figured that would do it,” he said. “Just lay back now.” He reached out to have her take another whiff of the vial, but Polly’s eyes grew wider as she shook her head.
“Get that away from me,” she said. “Stinks like a bottle of pee.”
“Looks like your sense of smell is intact, anyway,” the doctor said. He took a few minutes to examine her again, in spite of her protestations that it was unnecessary, before relenting and leaving her alone.
Melanie rushed to hug her as Polly sat up. “I’ve been so worried,” she said.
“I’m fine,” Polly said. “I told you, I just needed to rest.” She started to get to her feet, then faltered and sat down heavily on the sofa again.
“A rest, huh? You were resting face down on the kitchen floor when we found you,” Melanie said. “Now lie down and relax for a bit.”
Polly grimaced, but did as she was told. “Doesn’t feel right, lying here when there are chores to be done,” she muttered.
“You don’t worry about that,” David said. “You can do them in a little while.”
Polly laughed, but Melanie’s eyes blazed and she swatted David hard on the arm.
She pointedly ignored him and took a seat on the edge of the sofa, clasping Polly’s hands in hers.
“David, I’ll have a word with you, if you don’t mind,” the doctor said.
The two men went outside and found Barney waiting on the porch, his hat in his hands and his mustache even droopier than usual.
“Mr. Tanner, is Polly all right? Willie said she had some kinda accident.” His voice was shaky from age and emotion.
“She’s going to be fine, Barney,” David said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go on in and say hello, if you like.” He didn’t need to say it twice; Barney moved fast for an older man and was halfway inside before David finished speaking.
Sullivan waited for the door to close and then spoke in a quiet voice. “Has he popped the question yet?”
“Nope,” David said. “I think they think it’s still a secret. All I know is, he better hurry. He’s not getting any younger.”
“Nobody is,” the doctor said as they walked to his runabout. The horse bobbed its head as they approached, as if it agreed.
“So what’s wrong with her, Doc?”
“Hard to say. Could be nerves, could be hysteria, could be palpitations. Or it could be something else entirely,” Sullivan said as he placed his bag in the carriage.
David snorted. “You’re a lot of help, aren’t you?”
The doctor grinned. “As I recall, I was the one who got her to wake up.”
“Fair enough,” David said, matching his smile. “So should she be on bed rest or something?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary right now,” the doctor said. “She survived watching you as a two-year-old. I doubt a little cooking and cleaning is going to hurt her. But she’s got to take it easy.” His brow furrowed slightly as he looked toward the house. “Who’s the girl?”
“That’s Melanie. Polly’s niece,” David said. “She’s just passing through. She’ll only be here for a few days.”