The Maid_The Eighth Day

by Rachel Wesson

  How could he want anyone but her? She didn’t look a bit like the child he had left behind when he went to war. Her loving nature seemed to be the same, but the physical changes in her were remarkable. She had felt so wonderful in his arms—the heat between them had made it impossible to think rationally. She’d melded against his body as if she belonged there.

  He loved the vibrant color of her hair and those beautiful green eyes. How he wished they would dance with laughter and happiness when he was around.

  Colin kicked at the snow. She was having a bad effect on him, making him all nostalgic. He began to walk faster toward the livery, toward his house. He needed a decent drink and Mick was just the man to have a bottle open. But if he went to the house, he would have to tell Cookie about Cara. His old friend wouldn’t be happy.

  He couldn’t deal with that at the moment. He did an about turn and walked the few steps back to the clinic. An early night would be just what the doctor ordered rather than a bellyful of whiskey.

  Chapter 8

  The 2nd day of Christmas

  December 26, 1876

  Dawn was breaking as Colin slammed the coffee pot down. His dreams the previous night had been filled with memories, not just of the war but of the times before it. Happy times, before his life had ended.

  Cara’s arrival in Noelle had turned his world upside down. What was she going to do? Would she tell everyone who he really was?

  He tried to read the medical periodicals piled up beside his bed. They were usually good for sending him to sleep, but not today. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back in the middle of a battle—the whoosh of shells falling, men screaming, the metallic smell of… he opened his eyes again. Finally, he gave up trying to sleep and decided to go for a walk. In the early morning, he was unlikely to bump into anyone and could have some precious time to himself.

  He enjoyed his walk until he spotted Draven in the distance. Even Sheriff Draven couldn’t ignore the townsfolk if they told him he was a deserter and, worse still, a murderer.

  Draven knew his secret. Colin had saved the sheriff’s life some years back and, in return, the sheriff had torn up the bounty notice offering the sum of five hundred dollars for Colin Cowan, dead or alive. But Draven had a reputation to maintain. If everyone else found out, he couldn’t be seen letting an accused murderer walk free.

  Successfully avoiding Draven, he walked into his office and set the water to boil for some more coffee. Colin paced back and forth, not hearing the whistle of the kettle.

  The clinic door opened and Gus Peregrine walked in.

  “Son, you’ll burn the backside out of that pot. Can’t you hear it whistling or do those Irish ears of yers need a good cleaning?”

  “Morning, Gus. How're things with you?” Colin asked the old man as he rescued the pot and made some coffee. He placed an empty cup in front of his visitor.

  “I’m not ailing, if that’s what you mean. I came to offer you the blessings of the season, even if it seems a bit cold for Easter.” The old man drew his coat closer around him as Colin stoked the fire, hoping the flames would throw out more heat.

  “Easter? You old barnacle, you know it's the day after Christmas.”

  “Christmas! Of course, it’s Christmas, why else would I be here visiting you this early?”

  Colin didn’t say anything. He had noted that Gus was getting more confused over the passing months. He’d mentioned it to his grandson Jack. It saddened him the old man was losing his mind. He was very fond of him, not that he would ever tell him.

  “Are you planning any more uprisings?” Gus asked.

  “You know that has nothing to do with me. I’ve never set foot in Ireland.”

  “Ah, yes, but you Irish lot are always looking for opportunities.”

  “Wouldn’t you if it was your country under the control of a foreign power?” Colin couldn’t resist asking. “America got rid of the English. Next it will be Ireland's turn.”

  “See, I knew it. Yer scheming. And here was I bringing you some festive cheer.”

  Colin decided it was time to change the subject. “How’s that grandson of yours? I heard he was getting a bride, too.”

  “Well, he wasn’t as quick off the mark as you were. You kissed her mighty fast. No hanging about with you Irish, is there?”

  Colin smiled but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t tell Gus he’d kissed Cara so she didn't reveal his real name. He wondered how she was feeling this morning. Had she liked her gift, or did she hate him even more? But he couldn’t let Christmas day pass without giving her a gift.

  “Are you woolgathering again?”

  “Sorry, Gus. I was just planning my day. I have a number of visits to make.”

  “Well if yer too busy to talk to an old man like me, you should have just said so. I’ll get out of yer way,” Gus said huffily as he went to stand up.

  “Aw Gus, you know I love our talks. Why don’t I rustle us up some breakfast? Have you eaten yet?”

  Gus looked thoughtful but his expression soon turned anxious. “I don’t think…what I mean is it’s about time you showed some manners ‘n offered yer visitor some refreshments.”

  Colin made a mental note to talk again to Jack, Gus’s grandson. Gus couldn’t remember if he had eaten. For a man who enjoyed his food, that was a very worrying sign. But he didn’t want to worry Gus so he pretended all was fine. After lying about his name, and his past, to everyone he knew all these years, a few white lies to comfort an old man wouldn’t hurt.

  “How was your Christmas day?” Colin asked as he poured coffee into Gus’s cup.

  “Good. Met Jack’s bride. Nice girl, her name is...” Gus scratched his head, his eyes darting back and forth. “I can’t stay for breakfast. I have to be somewhere. Thanks for the coffee.”

  Colin caught the look in Gus’s eyes. The old man knew he had to be somewhere but if Colin were a betting man, he would bet Gus had forgotten where.

  “Want me to tag along with you?” Colin offered.

  “I don’t need minding,” Gus growled back, slamming the door on his way out.

  Colin stared at the door, his mind on Gus. It was so unlike him to be surly, but then given what he knew was ahead of him, Gus had a right to be upset. After everything the man had been through, saving countless lives as a field medic in the war, his grandson losing a leg trying to save his pa, it was so unfair the man was losing his mind at his age. But then life wasn’t fair, was it?

  Chapter 9

  Cara turned on her side in bed, the book clutched in her hands. Had he remembered? It was typical of the man she had known before the war to be so thoughtful, but how did that fit with him being a coward, never mind a murderer?

  Fina stumbled slightly, dragging Cara’s attention away from the book.

  “How’s your ankle today?” she asked.

  “Getting better, I think. But you look sad. I will do your hair and let’s see if we can get your doctor a little hot under his collar, si?” Fina offered.

  Cara didn’t answer—she was far too embarrassed.

  “Your hair is beautiful. The color is so unusual,” Fina marveled as she brushed out Cara’s hair.

  “It’s horrible, this red hair and these freckles. You should see my sisters. They’re beautiful, especially Colleen. She has hair as black as yours and blue eyes.”

  “This sister, she is older than you?” Fina asked.

  “Yes,” Cara answered, wondering what that had to do with anything.

  “Then she is jealous of you, my friend. You have beautiful clear skin and are so pretty. Stop thinking of your sister. Does she have a handsome doctor for a groom?”

  Cara had to bite her lip. She wanted to tell Fina that Colleen had almost married her groom. But she’d promised Colin not to reveal anything of his past.

  “You need to be more confident, bolder. Look at him like this.” Fina demonstrated how Cara should look and flirt with Colin, but Cara couldn’t do anything other than laugh. If she batte
d her eyelashes like that at Colin, he was more likely to take her to his clinic for an eye examination than to fall in love with her.

  Fall in love? Why would she want him to do that?

  “Now you look beautiful. See?” Fina held up the mirror while Cara looked at herself, her mouth open with amazement.

  “I look so different, so...”

  “Beautiful and attractive. He will melt at the sight of you.”

  Fina smoothed the edges of the braided updo. Cara gave Fina a hug, overwhelmed by her kindness. Then she looked at herself in the mirror again. She looked older and more…sophisticated. Maybe Colin could see she really had grown up.

  Colin finished with a patient. The grumpy old man hadn’t liked his advice to stop drinking and cut down on the amount of food he ate. Colin thought the man might hit him when he suggested a good wash would be in order. As the patient paid his bill, Colin pictured the old senator Cara had described.

  Colin had to fight to control his temper. Every time he thought of Cecilia O’Donnell insisting her innocent young daughter marry an aged old scoundrel, his anger increased. He’d never liked Cara’s mother much. She was a very cold woman who didn’t seem to like anyone or anything, not even her own children—with the exception, of course, of Thomas. As far as she was concerned, her boy walked on water. He was the most perfect specimen of manhood ever to grace the world. If only she knew.

  Thinking about Thomas wasn’t going to solve his problem. Cara couldn’t return to Denver or Boston, not unmarried. He didn’t trust Mrs. O’Donnell an inch and while he liked Cara’s father, he knew the man was not strong enough to stand up to his overbearing wife.

  No, Cara had to stay in Noelle, if only for her own safety. Before he changed his mind, he marched up to La Maison des Chats and insisted on seeing Cara. She kept him waiting for a while before finally arriving downstairs. He ushered her into one of the parlor rooms where they could enjoy a little privacy.

  But when he finally got her alone, all he could do was stare.

  “What?” she asked, looking embarrassed.

  “You look different, Cara. Your hair…that’s not how you usually wear it.”

  Cara glanced in the mirror. “Fina did it for me. It’s supposed to make me look more…sophisticated.”

  “If you say so.”

  He didn’t like her hair. Oh, well. She liked it and that was all that mattered. That’s what she told herself anyway, but she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

  She pushed a few wisps back that had come free of the up-do. She was so intent on what she was doing, his next words shocked the life out of her.

  Chapter 10

  “We have to get married Cara,” he said.

  She spun around to face him, her expression one of complete disbelief. “I know you think I am a child but I’m not that innocent.” Cara’s cheeks burned as she spoke. “Nothing happened yesterday. My honor is intact. You’re under no obligation to wed me.”

  “I made a promise I would get married,” he insisted.

  “Yes, but I don’t think Mrs. Walters will hold you to it. Not under these circumstances.”

  “Mrs. Walters? Who the heck cares what Mrs. Walters thinks?” Colin snarled.

  Confused, she stared at him. Who else had he promised he would get married? “Colin, if you’re worrying about me, don’t. I don’t want to marry you any more than you want to marry me. I release you from any obligation you feel.”

  “Cara, darn it. I owe this town.”

  “The town? Why would they care whether you got married or not? In fact, I know there are many women in this town who would prefer you remained single.”

  She couldn’t help but remember what Jolie had hinted. According to that woman, the female population of Noelle would be grateful if Doc Deane were to remain single.

  Instead of making him angry, her comment seemed to confuse him, judging by the expression on his face.

  “Cara, I promised the town I would marry. If they don’t have twelve new couples by January 6, they won’t run the railroad here. And Noelle needs the railroad to survive.”

  Cara couldn’t believe her ears. “You were marrying me because you made a promise to a town?” Cara asked, her quiet tone at odds with the anger raging inside her. He couldn’t be serious.

  “I don’t expect you to understand, but I owe this town and the people in it. They gave me a chance when nobody else would. I’ve lived and worked amongst these people for years now. I’ve watched some of them be born, been there when others died. They need me and I need them. I can’t let them down.”

  Cara gripped her hands so tightly, her nails dug into her palms.

  “Are you telling me you expect me to marry you because a group of strangers made you feel welcome?” Her hands were white, her knuckles clearly showing.

  “It’s not as simple as that and you know it.”

  “What I know, Colin Cowan or Deane or whatever you call yourself, is you lied to me. You lied to everyone. Not a single person in this town knows you.”

  “They know the real me. A name means nothing,” he said.

  “A name means everything! Without your name, what have you got?”

  He stared at her for a few seconds, as if willing her to understand. “Cara…forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “Cara, can’t you see I can’t let these people down? Without the railroad, the mines won’t be able to transport their products. The stores won’t be able to bring in their goods, the people won’t come. Noelle will turn into another ghost town. The people who stay here won’t have medical treatments.”

  Cara bit her lip and turned away from him. She looked out at the town that had struck a chord with her from that first, miserable night. She could help them achieve something, their dream. But at what cost? She wanted to marry someone who loved her for who she was. She wanted a family, she wanted...him.

  “Cara, there is a way this could work for both of us.”

  “What do you mean?” she said slowly, turning to look at him.

  “If you marry me, you’ll be safe from the senator. He can’t hurt you. If you really want, we could agree to a marriage in name only.”

  Cara nearly vomited. He didn’t want her physically or emotionally, just as a means to save his precious town. “I’m not going to lie to protect you or your town. You might feel comfortable living a lie, but I don’t.”

  “But you already lied by pretending to be someone you weren’t.”

  Cara wanted to march off, but where would she go?

  “Cara, I’m sorry but I beg you—please go through with our wedding. We can save Noelle and you at the same time.” He moved closer to her, running his hands up her arms, turning her to face him.

  “Cara, I know you cared for me at one time. Please, for the sake of our old friendship, please help me. Help us.”

  She stared into his eyes, her stomach churning at his nearness. She wanted to say no. She wanted to yell at him, to ask her to marry him for real. Until death do us part…

  “I don’t think I can do that, Colin.”

  It took everything she had, but she pushed past him and walked slowly back upstairs. She hoped he didn’t follow her.

  Tears ran freely down her face. She had thought her heart broke when he’d marched off to war but she’d been a child then. Now she was a woman, and her heart breaking was the most painful thing she had ever experienced.

  Colin watched her walk away. Why hadn’t he just told her how he felt? He wanted to marry her for real. He wanted to have children with her, grow old with her.

  He thought she may agree to marriage for her own safety. After all, she had been prepared to be a mail-order bride and marry a stranger. But she obviously hated him. As long as she believed he was a murdering coward, she would never love him.

  He closed the door of La Maison des Chats and walked down the street, not caring which direction he took. She hadn’t mentioned her present. Had she li
ked it? He would have loved to see her face when she opened it, but his pride had stopped him from giving it to her himself rather than asking Pearl to put it on her bed. He didn’t think he could bear it if Cara threw the book aside. Not now.

  Chapter 11

  The Third Day of Christmas

  December 27, 1876

  “Morning, Doc. Fine day, isn’t it?” The door of the office opened, bringing a blast of cold air into the room. The temperature didn’t improve when Colin saw who his visitor was.

  Colin looked into the face of Mr. Stiles, the railroad representative. He wanted to tell the man to get lost, to go hassle someone else, but he couldn’t. All he could do was fix a smile on his face and see what the man wanted. He wasn’t here for doctoring, that was for sure.

  “Feeling poorly, Mr. Stiles?” Colin couldn’t resist asking as he picked up a sterile silver instrument. It was a harmless irrigation syringe but judging by the blood rapidly draining from Mr. Stiles face, the man didn’t know that.

  “No, social call is all. I just wondered how you were faring with your bride.”