Beloved Enemy, The (House of Winslow Book #30)

by Gilbert, Morris

  Kefira started to thank him and then a spasm of coughing overtook her. Higgins looked alarmed. “You don’t sound too good yourself, miss. Are you all right?”

  “Just a bad cold.”

  “Sounds worse than that to me. Better have Dr. Jamison look you over too.”

  As for Josh Winslow, the ride was torment, and getting there was worse. It had taken all his concentration to keep from crying out when the tall man and the young woman had helped him to the car. Now he heard voices, and he felt hands on him, and it felt as though he were being torn apart. He remembered only a soft voice encouraging him. “You’ll be all right,” and a gruff voice saying, “Bring him on into the office.” Then they lifted him, and mercifully he knew no more.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  When a Man Sees Beauty

  The lion crouched with his head held high, and Kefira felt terror rushing through her body. She tried to shut off the sight. The large animals had always frightened her, and this was the most monstrous beast she had ever seen. She had walked through the sand, and overhead the skies had been dark and foreboding. She could not remember how she got to this place that seemed to stretch out forever—flat without variation. Once she had broken into a run, hoping to find someone to help or a structure where she could take refuge, but suddenly before her had appeared the form of a savage beast.

  Stopping dead still, Kefira felt her heart beating until it seemed almost that it would tear itself out of her breast. She put her hand on her chest and pressed against it. Desperately she wanted to shut her eyes, or better still, to turn and flee, but the strength had drained from her, and she did not have the power even to stand. She slumped down on her knees, transfixed by the sight that seemed to enter through her eyes and into her head and swell there until it filled her entire body.

  A shaft of sunlight shot down from the heavens and fell directly on the head and shoulders of the beast. She saw his paws were stretched out in front of him—and then she saw that this was no lion. She had seen lions in the zoo and once at a circus, but this beast, though he had the body of a lion … had the face of a man.

  She could not turn away, and she saw that the face was scarred and battered, the nose almost gone, and there was some sort of headdress that spread out from where his ears would be. The fear of it came like a flood then, and she began to cry. Then she heard a voice. It was not the strange beast that spoke, but the voice came from somewhere deep within her. It was a comforting voice, soft and soothing, and it did not come with words, at least not words that she could understand. It was more of a sense of someone entering who calmed her fears, and she suddenly knew that everything would be all right.

  Kefira stiffened and opened her eyes. She looked around wildly, then sat up and stared about the room. The dream had been so real. She could almost feel the individual grains of sand under her feet and the hot wind of the desert on her cheek. “But what is it?” she whispered. “What does it mean?”

  Recognition came flooding back then, and she threw back the covers and sat on the side of the bed. She knew this room. At least she remembered being brought here by a woman who had spoken kindly to her and told her to sleep—that she was not well.

  The room was cold, and Kefira shivered and at once began getting into her clothes. Her bedroll was not there, and she could not remember what she had done with it. As she hurriedly dressed, she remembered the doctor standing beside the man called Winslow, along with the couple taking them in. What were their names?—Higgins, that was it. The memories came quickly now, and when she was fully dressed, she pulled her thoughts away from the dream and to the injured man. He had been conscious most of the time, and Kefira had waited until after the doctor came out of the room. His name was Jamison. He was a tall, spindly man made up of spare parts, it seemed, but he had a kindly face and a soft accent in his voice. “He’s going to be all right,” Dr. Jamison had said. “He’s got some ribs that are either broken or so badly cracked they might as well be. He’s going to have a lot of pain. I wrapped him up—not that that does much good. Every time he breathes he’s going to hurt those ribs, but I’m leaving some painkiller. Keep him dosed up, and don’t let him do too much. I’ll stop in tomorrow.”

  Kefira stepped outside the door, struggled against the temptation to cough but could not help it. She coughed so hard she leaned against the door. After the coughing spell passed, she touched her face. It felt hot, and she knew she had a fever. Shaking her head, she muttered, “I can’t be sick. I just can’t.” She was light-headed, but her limbs felt heavy, and despite her resolution, she knew with a sense of growing desperation that she was as sick as she had ever been in her life.

  ****

  She was standing over him when he opened his eyes, and memory came flooding back. “Hello,” he said and licked his lips. “I feel like I’ve been drugged.”

  “The doctor gave you medicine to make you sleep. How do you feel?”

  Josh arched his body slightly and then twisted his lips up with a grimace of pain. “I feel like I’ve been torn in two.” He thought for a minute and then said, “I’m sorry I’ve forgotten your name. I guess I was out of it.”

  “Kefira Reis.”

  “Did I tell you mine?”

  “Yes, Winslow—Joshua Winslow.”

  Josh turned experimentally from side to side. The pain was consistently bad. Every time he moved, it was as if someone was stabbing his side with a red-hot sword. A thought occurred to him, and he looked up at her. “If I sneeze,” he said, alarmed at the thought, “I think it would tear me in two.”

  “Then don’t sneeze.”

  Josh managed a grin. “I don’t know how you do that.” She coughed suddenly, and he looked at her more closely. “You don’t look so good yourself.”

  “Just a cold.”

  “You’ve been sleeping out in this weather?”

  “I usually find shelter.”

  At that moment Mrs. Higgins came into the room. “Oh, you’re up, Miss Reis!” She was a tall, strongly built woman with a homely face and a pair of honest blue eyes. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m all right.”

  Mrs. Higgins stared at her, took a step closer, and after an examination of Kefira’s features, shook her head. “You’ve got a fever, haven’t you?”

  “A little bit, but I’ll get over it.”

  “I’ve got some breakfast made. I came in to see if you could eat anything, young man.”

  “Nothing wrong with my appetite,” Josh said. “It’s just all the rest of me that hurts.”

  “I’ll bring it in to him,” Kefira said.

  “Fine, and you need to eat something yourself.”

  The two women left, and Josh lay on the bed thinking about what had happened. The attack now was like a very bad dream. He could remember the faces of the men only slightly, but the memory of the kicks and blows was graphic indeed. He lay there careful not to move, occupying himself again with an effort to neither cough nor sneeze. He thought about the cough of the young woman who had saved his life. I wonder if she had the doctor look at her. The thought of the doctor came rushing back into his memory. He remembered asking him how long he would hurt like this, but he could not recall what the doctor said. Only that it was not something he was pleased to hear.

  Looking out the window, he saw that the skies were clearing and the sun had risen. He had no idea of the time, and looking over to a golden oak dresser against the wall, he saw his watch and chain there and felt a sudden pride. “They didn’t get you,” he spoke aloud to the watch. “They may have broken every rib I own, but I hung on to you, didn’t I?”

  His grim determination to keep the watch, even at the cost of his life, was something new for Josh. He had always drifted with the current and had never fought for anything in his life. Now as he lay there taking shallow breaths to keep the pain away, he knew he had passed a test. He had a friend in college, Tom Jenkins, who had once said while the two were out drinking together, “College is nothing but a
series of obstacles. They put a hurdle in front of you, something you have to do, and you jump it. Then as soon as you get over, they put another one there. Whether it’s tests or courses it doesn’t matter, and I don’t think they care, just as long as you go over the hurdles.” Jenkins had taken another drink and grinned rashly. “That’s what life is, Josh, my boy, nothing but a series of hurdles. You’ll knock one down every once in a while. Just keep running. Don’t ever stop.”

  Joshua wondered where Jenkins was. He had not heard from him in years. Probably successful, he thought. He was going to be a lawyer, and I guess he made it. He was a pretty determined fellow.

  In the midst of his thoughts, Josh looked up to see Kefira coming in with a tray.

  “Mmm … I can smell it from here. What delectable did you bring me?”

  Kefira just set the tray down and said, “You’re going to have to sit up. You might strangle and choke, and that wouldn’t be good.”

  “It would be a shame after all the trouble you’ve gone to on my behalf.” Josh gave her a boyish grin. “Here, let me work myself up.” He began a series of small movements, pushing and lifting himself carefully, and after what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, he finally sighed with relief. “Whew,” he said. “Anyone would think I was ninety years old.”

  Kefira lifted the plate and handed it to him. He put it in his lap, took the fork, and stared at the food. “Scrambled eggs, ham, and homemade biscuits. Nothing like country cooking, is there?”

  “People eat well here in the South,” Kefira said, smiling sweetly. She went over and picked up the cup of coffee and drew up a chair and sat down beside him. “I’ll hold this for you.” She coughed suddenly, turning her head away, then clearing her throat. “You probably need to eat all you can.”

  “Aren’t you going to have any?” he asked as he took a mouthful.

  “I don’t much feel like it,” Kefira admitted. “Not with his cough and fever.”

  From time to time he looked over at the young woman who sat with her eyes on him. She was still wearing men’s clothes, including a gray shirt that was unbuttoned at the throat. She had smooth skin, a beautiful complexion, and her hair was the blackest thing he had ever seen. He took another bite of eggs, chewed thoughtfully, then sneaked another glance. He had thought her eyes were black, but now he could see they were dark blue. He suddenly realized she was aware of his scrutiny and might be embarrassed, so he turned his eyes back to his plate and ate the remains of the biscuit loaded with peach preserves, then handed her the plate and took the coffee. He washed the last remnant down with strong drafts, then handed her the cup. “I feel better now.”

  “The doctor said some of your ribs may be broken. He wasn’t quite sure.”

  “They feel like it, but I’ll be all right.”

  “Your family is coming to get you. Did Mrs. Higgins tell you that?”

  “No, did you call?”

  “No, Mr. Higgins called. I’m not too good with telephones, but he talked to the minister you spoke of, and he promised to have someone here as soon as possible.”

  A feeling close to despair washed over Josh. It must have shown in his expression, for Kefira asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “I left home to go get a job so that I wouldn’t be a burden to my family. Times are tough, and now here I’ve made things even worse. I’ll be a cripple they’ll have to take care of.”

  “I’m sure they won’t feel that way,” Kefira said quickly. “You couldn’t help what happened.”

  Josh turned to face her. He breathed deeply until he felt his muscles contract and the pain start. “I guess not,” he said. “I tried to run away, but I wasn’t quick enough.” He looked at her closely. “Do I remember you telling me you shot one of those fellows?”

  Kefira answered defensively, “I was going to shoot in the air, but I’m not very good, so I nicked him in the ear.”

  Josh felt laughter coming on, but he knew that would hurt. He held his side as he chuckled lightly. “I was out cold by that time. I don’t even remember hearing the shot, but it’s probably a good thing. They would have killed me if you hadn’t come by.” He sat there relaxing, and a calico cat jumped up on his lap and settled down there, purring. “Well, hello there. You’re a friendly one.”

  The cat began kneading him, lifting his front feet rhythmically and sinking his claws into Josh’s flesh. “Ow, that hurts!”

  “Here, you can’t do that,” Kefira said to the animal. She reached out and picked up the cat. He allowed himself to be lifted, dangling limply, and when she put him on the floor, he stared at her with offended dignity, then stalked out of the room.

  “Quite the comedian,” Josh remarked.

  Kefira said, “Could you drink some more coffee?”

  “No, not right now. Sit down and talk to me a minute if you’re not busy.” He studied her face again and saw that she was flushed. “I’m worried about that cold of yours. What did the doctor say?”

  “He was too busy with you. Besides, I’ll be all right. I’ve had colds before.”

  Josh said, “Please sit down. I can’t do a thing but lie here.”

  “Maybe I can find you something to read.”

  “I’d rather talk.”

  Kefira seemed to hesitate, then put the dishes on the tray and returned to sit down beside him. There was a placid quality in her that Josh liked immediately, but there was also strength in every line of her features. He could not tell about her figure under the shapeless clothes she wore, but she appeared to be trim and in good physical condition—except for the cold.

  “How big a family do you have?” Kefira asked. She listened carefully as Josh spoke of his family, and then when he asked her about her own, she said, “I only have one brother.”

  “Oh, your parents aren’t living, then?”

  “No.”

  “Where does your brother live?”

  Kefira hesitated, then said, “In New York.”

  “Why did you go on the road instead of staying with him?”

  Kefira saw no reason to lie. “He’s in prison.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Josh said quickly. He wanted to ask what the man had done but felt he could not. “How much longer does he have to serve?”

  “Only about a year and a half. When he gets out, I want the two of us to live together.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Chaim.” When Kefira saw Winslow’s brow contract in a puzzled frown, she said, “That’s spelled C-h-a-i-m, but it’s pronounced ‘High-im.’”

  “Chaim? What kind of a name is that?”

  “It’s Hebrew.”

  As she expected, Josh was surprised. “You’re Jewish, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry about your brother. I guess a year and a half seems like a long time. You have no other relatives at all?”

  “No, not really.”

  Josh saw that she was watching him and shrugged his shoulders, bringing a twinge of pain. “I’ve been in jail myself,” he said. “So I know what it’s like.”

  “What were you in jail for?” Ordinarily Kefira would not have asked the question, but this interested her. He did not look like a criminal type, and she watched his face as he suddenly smiled.

  “Selling bootleg liquor. I was a drunk too.”

  “You don’t look like a drunk—or a criminal.”

  Josh smiled and shook his head. “‘One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s just a line from a play. It means we’re not always on the inside what we seem to be on the outside.”

  Kefira recognized the truth of this well enough. She leaned forward and asked, “Was it very hard being in jail?”

  “No, actually it wasn’t. I wasn’t in for long, and I got plenty to eat and I had a place to sleep, of course. Actually these last couple days have been harder than the time I was in jail.”

  “But you’ll be going
home now.”

  “Yes, and they ought to throw me out.”

  “Throw you out! Why would they do that?”

  “Because I’m the black sheep of the family—the bad one.”

  “I don’t think you’re so bad,” Kefira said. She pulled out a handkerchief and began to cough, and the effort was obviously painful for her. When she recovered, she asked, “How’s your head?”

  “Fine, I guess. The doctor changed the bandage.”

  “Yes, he didn’t have to take any stitches.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, then Kefira stood to her feet, “I think I’ll go see if I can help Mrs. Higgins with the work.”

  “All right. Thank you, Miss Reis.”

  “You can call me Kefira.”

  “That’s a pretty name. What does it mean?” He saw a smile touch her lips and said, “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s my name. I don’t often tell a goy what it means.”

  “What’s a goy?”

  “Somebody that’s not a Jew.” She smiled and said, “It means ‘little cub.’ I guess I was named after a lion or something. Maybe I had a bad nature when I was a baby.”

  “I don’t believe that, but you have the courage of a lion to stand up to those two thugs. I’ll never forget it, Kefira. Never.”

  His words obviously embarrassed her, and she ducked her head, saying, “I’ll bring you some more coffee after a while. I expect you’d better rest.”

  She left the room and went into the kitchen. Jethro and Edith Higgins were there eating breakfast, and Mr. Higgins rose and motioned to a chair. “Sit down, miss. Plenty of food.”

  “I’m not very hungry.”

  Mrs. Higgins shook her head. “You should have told the doctor you were sick. I meant to, but I got so occupied with your man that I forgot.”

  “He’s … he’s not my man.”

  “What happened?” Jethro Higgins asked. He listened as she recounted the story, then grinned broadly. “So, you carry a gun, huh?”

  “I do. Does that shock you?”

  “It was a lucky thing for Joshua Winslow you had it. From what you tell me, those two thugs meant business.”