“I’m talking aren’t I?” Marston grumbled.
Langley stared up at him. He was just as big as Langley remembered as he stood there in his duster coat with a blood tear across the sleeve. “I’m sorry, Marston! I thought you was someone else. I didn’t hurt you too bad did I?”
“No, it ain’t too bad,” Marston replied, relief flooding him at seeing Langley alive and well. “As a matter of fact, you shot me in the same spot my brother has already gotten a time or two.”
“You have a brother?” Langley asked. Marston nodded as he looked over the boy’s head for any sign of Rose. “And he shot you?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Wow…” Langley sighed. “I’m glad I don’t have a brother.”
“You should be,” Langley agreed. “Where’s your mama?”
Langley’s blue eyes filled with fear and worry. “She’s real sick, Marston. She’s been sick for weeks but this morning she won’t wake up and she’s burning hot.”
Marston pushed past Langley and strode into the cabin, stepping over the fallen chair and heading straight for Rose’s bedroom. He stepped inside and his breath caught painfully in his chest. Rose’s breath rattled in her lungs, her face was ghastly pale and she was covered in a sheen of sweat. Her red hair was dirty and limp against the white sheets as she lay as still as death upon the bed.
All the months Marston had wasted running from what he felt for Rose and Langley came crashing down on him and he felt the purest form of remorse and pain nearly tackle him to the floor.
Marston walked to the edge of the bed on shaking legs and crouched down. He reached out a trembling hand and pushed her hair from her overheated cheeks.
“What did the doc say?” Marston whispered when Langley stepped into the doorway.
“He hasn’t been here… Mama has been sick for a while, but she refused to see him and wouldn’t let me go get him. She kept saying she just needed time to get better.”
Marston growled and cursed her stubbornness. Though it wasn’t her fault that she was the way she was. She’d had to be strong to raise her son on her own for this long.
“Go to town and get the damn doc,” Marston growled as he stood and faced Langley. “Take the buckskin out there. He’s already saddled and ready.”
“Is she gonna be okay, Marston?”
Marston pointed toward the door. “Go kid.”
Even after Langley had left the cabin, Marston didn’t let his gaze return to Rose. He didn’t like the way the sight of her made him feel. Helplessness was not something Marston was good at. Tenderness and caring were both things that Marston had no experience with. Now that he feeling all three things at once, he was overwhelmed.
Marston had to forget that this was Rose. He had to forget that this was the angel woman who had wanted him around despite the evil inside of him. He had to forget just how badly he would break if she died. He had to tell himself she was just another person—that’s the only way he’d be able to help her.
The first step was to lower her fever. Marston went to the kitchen and turned on the faucet, but no water came—the pipes were frozen. Marston slammed his hand on the counter and then scolded himself. He wasn’t usually the type to get so upset over a little thing like frozen pipes.
Caring about someone else was stressful. It was no wonder he’d never bothered with doing so before. Marston took a deep breath to steady his nerves before grabbing a pot. He filled it from the well outside and placed it on the cook stove to warm a bit.
He made his way back into Rose’s bedroom and gazed down at her. She moaned and shifted restlessly beneath her covers. Looking at her this way proved to be too much and Marston found himself all but running back out of the room.
With shaking hands, Marston gathered a few washrags from the washroom and then stepped back into the kitchen. With nothing else to do as he waited for his water to heat, Marston leaned against the wall and took stock of his bleeding arm.
He slid out of his duster coat and growled when the tiny graze Langley had gouged into him burned like fire.
Tapping his fingers on his legs and pacing back and forth, Marston realized that he had no patience for waiting. The wind whistled outside and Marston felt the cold air come through the drafty wall. That was something he’d have to remedy.
Marston stoked up the fire in the fireplace and noted that the wood box was nearly empty. He’d have to fill it as well….
Finding that he was running out of things to occupy his racing mind, Marston grabbed the water, which was still cool but no longer ice cold and he carried the pot and the washrags into the bedroom.
Soaking a rag, Marston wrung out the excess water and sat gently on the side of the bed. He braced one arm on the opposite side of Rose’s still form and softly began to smooth the washrag over her heated brow.
He had no idea how long he simply sat there. He ran that wash rag along her brow, over her soft cheeks and down her graceful neck. He silently willed her to wake up but other than her eyelids fluttering and her labored breaths, there was no other sign of life coming from her.
“Rose?” Marston whispered, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. “Rose, you need to wake up now. Your boy is worried about you.”
Marston sat the washrag on the bedside table and laid his hand over her cheek. His skin was dark against hers and the softness of her skin caused the roughness of his own to stand out in sharp contrast.
He ran his calloused thumb over her full bottom lip and stooped lower to place a tender kiss to her brow, pouring strength into her and hoping against hope she would awaken.
“Marston…?” she moaned.
Marston sat bolt upright and stared down at her. Her blue eyes fluttered open, but they were bright with fever and not entirely focused. “Hi Rose,” he greeted as he teased her damp red curls.
She offered a weak smile. “You’re here.”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he whispered. If the men he’d once run with could see and hear him now, they wouldn’t recognize him as Marston caressed Rose’s cheek and did nothing to hide the emotions shining in his eyes.
“You’re so handsome,” she admitted sleepily, raising her hand and laying it on his bearded cheek. He knew it was more than likely her fever talking, but he’d still gladly accept the compliment.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Do you still think I’m pretty?”
Marston frowned. He couldn’t remember ever telling her that she was pretty. She was. She was downright beautiful and so Marston told her so.
A bright smile lit her face and then she coughed and cried out as she clutched her chest. “I’m sick…” she whispered.
“I know.” Marston swallowed hard and helped her get comfortable once again. “You’re real sick.”
Another wracking cough shook her fevered body and Marston once again grabbed that rag and began to smooth it over her brow. “Shh…” he urged as she whimpered. “Rest, Rose. The doctor will be here soon.”
“I’m sick…” she mumbled again, her eyelids slowly slipping closed.
“I know.”
“You’re back.”
“Uh-uh,” Marston agreed as he ran the rag over the tiny mole above her collarbone.
“God does answer prayers,” Rose announced before slipping back into unconsciousness.
Marston’s hand still as he stared down at the woman in that bed. She had prayed he’d come back? After the way he had abandoned her, she had still wanted him around? Could Marston be the man that this woman clearly thought he could?
Marston was still sitting there lost in thoughts when Langley returned with the doctor. When Doctor Brinkley came into the room, Marston quickly stood and distanced himself from the bed. He slipped his mask of indifference back on his face and greeted the older man.
“Langley told me she’s had a terrible cough for nearly a month and now she is feverish and won’t wake up,” the doctor stated. “Does that cover it?”
Marston shrugged. �
�I just arrived so I couldn’t say how long it’s been going on. If the boy says it’s been a month then I guess it has. She came to for a minute or so while Langley was gone fetching you but then she went right back out.”
Doctor Brinkley nodded and stepped toward the bed. “You two wait outside. I’ll see what I can do for her.”
Marston and Langley were quick to obey and while Langley locked himself up in his room, Marston went out onto the porch. He should probably try to comfort the boy since it was clear he was scared but, hell, what could Marston say? He was damned scared himself.
Marston settled himself down in the rocking chair and pulled a rolled cigarette and pack of matches from his pocket. He took several long slow draws in an attempt to settle his nerves.
Damn but all these feelings were new! He had never, not once in his life, felt this kind of worry for another person. If something happened to that woman…
If something happened to Rose than Marston would take Langley under his wing and ensure the boy was taken care of. After leaving her alone to fend for herself the last few months it was the least Marston could do.
“God?” he spoke quietly. “It’s me again—that guy You don’t much care for who doesn’t much care for You back. You know I never ask You for anything and You’ve damn sure never seen fit to give me anything, but I’m telling You now to lay off that woman in there. That boy needs his mother and she’s a damn good soul. You best let her get better.”
Marston nearly swallowed his own tongue when a mourning dove flew across the yard and landed on the porch rail only a few feet from where Marston was sitting.
The bird and Marston stared hard at one another for several long moments and then the bird flew away once again. Marston took another draw off his cigarette and sighed. He was going to take that as a sign that Rose would be fine.
Desperation?
Probably.
But at this point desperation was all he had.
***
“She should be fine,” Doctor Brinkley stated as he and Langley joined Marston on the porch a short time later.
Marston stood quickly and nodded. “What’s wrong…” he stopped and cleared his throat when he realized how thick his voice sounded. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Lung infection and she let it get out of hand. If she had come to me sooner, I could have stopped it before it got this bad. Do you have any idea why she didn’t?”
Both Langley and Marston shook their heads. “No, but I intend to find out just as soon as she wakes up,” Marston assured the doctor.
Doctor Brinkley nodded and wrapped his wool coat tighter around himself. “I left her some medicine beside the bed. Something for fever and something for the cough. If her fever hasn’t broken by morning come and fetch me. If I don’t hear from you then I’ll ride back out in three days to see how she’s faring.”
“What do I owe you?” Marston asked.
Doctor Brinkley sighed. “I know things are hard for Rose…”
Marston shook his head. “Don’t worry about that,” he growled. “What do I owe you?”
“Let’s just say a dollar and leave it at that.”
Marston stepped off the porch and rummaged in the saddlebags still laying over Buck. He pulled out a dollar and laid it in the doctor’s gloved hand. “Thank you, doctor,” Marston said, finding that he nearly choked on the unfamiliar words.
The doctor tipped his head. “You’re welcome. Now, you and Langley see to it that she rests. She needs rest and lots of it. It could be weeks before she feels as if she’s back to her old self.”
Marston nodded. “Don’t worry, doc. I’m not going anywhere.”
Doctor Brinkley nodded. “Alright then. I’ll be going. Maybe soon this cold snap will break and we’ll all have a bit of relief.”
Marston nodded and he and Langley watched the doctor climb onto his cart and ride away. “So mama is going to be okay then?” Langley asked once they were alone.
“That’s what the doc said,” Marston replied. “Now let’s get these horses put away and then cut up some wood. You’re running low.”
“Sounds good to me,” Langley agreed. “Golly gee, Marston, it sure is good to have you back. I’ve missed you and so has mama. She never said so out loud, but I could tell. Why did you stay gone so long? Oh well, I guess it doesn’t matter now that you’re back. Are you gonna stay around this time”
Marston blew out a long breath as he grabbed Buck’s reins. “If your mama will let me.”
“Good! She’ll let you, I’m sure of it. I’m sorry I shot your arm. Does it hurt? Well, of course it hurts. What kind of question was that? A pretty dumb one, I reckon. It sure is good to have you back here though.”
Marston fought back a grin and forced out a grumble in response to the boy’s rambling—he had an image to uphold after all. But in all honesty, it felt damn good to be back.
Chapter Fourteen
Rose groaned as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her dry mouth. Her body felt sore and sluggish, but the burning in her lungs seemed to have eased. She kept her eyes closed as a smile curved her lips.
Rose had had wonderful dreams.
She had dreamt of Marston. His strong arms had been holding her close as his deep voice whispered soothingly into her ear. His big hands had caressed her face and his breath had teased her hair. Rose had even dreamed that she had woken up and spoke to him once and he’d been warm and tender.
She frowned.
The dreams hadn’t been wonderful, they’d been mean. Marston was gone.
Pushing thoughts of him away, Rose took stock of herself. She truly did feel a little better. She wondered how long she’d been lying in this bed. Her body was so weak, Rose didn’t know if she would even have the strength to get up.
But she had to get up.
She had to cook Langley some breakfast and sew the pants for Old Man Tippler. The floors needed scrubbing and she had to chop more firewood.
Rose shifted on the bed and opened her eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she would have screamed if she could have managed a sound.
Sprawled in a chair beside the bed was Marston. His long, thick legs were stretched out in front of him and his hands were dragging the floor on either side of the chair. His bearded chin was resting on his chest and quiet snores filled the room.
There was blood on his arm, his clothes were dirty, torn and stained and he looked all around filthy as his brown hair lay over his brow and covered his ears.
Why was Marston here? And why had he snuck into her bedroom only to fall asleep in the chair?
Rose did her best to force her aching muscles to listen as she shifted upon the mattress. At the faint rustling of the sheets, Marston’s golden eyes shot open and he was crouched beside her bed in an instant.
“Damn woman, but if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes I don’t know what is,” he whispered. “It sure is good to see those blue eyes again. I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.”
Rose frowned. Marston sounded different. He didn’t sound rough or cold or charming and slick. He sounded tender and caring just as he had in her dreams. He grabbed a glass of water and held it Rose’s lips. She took several small sips and he pulled the glass away.
“Why are you here?” Rose asked, glancing toward the window and realizing it was dark… the lantern beside the bed illuminated the shadows in her room. Why was it dark? It should be morning!
She curled her nose as a horrific scent burned her senses. Then she realized the smell was coming from her and she nearly gagged.
What was going on….?
“You said if I was ever around I could stop by,” Marston reminded her.
“Yes, but why are you in my room? Why is it dark? And why do I smell like a hog lot?”
Marston brought his face close to hers and gazed into her eyes with a tenderness that caused her body to ache. She wondered what it would feel like to have Marston hold her close—then again he’d done so in her dreams and Rose
was beginning to suspect that they hadn’t only been dreams.
“I’m in your room because I was worried about you and couldn’t force myself to leave it,” Marston admitted. “And it’s dark because that’s what happens at night and I won’t comment on the way you smell. I might be an outlaw, but even I have manners.”
“But why were you worried?”
“Why?” Marston shook his head. “Because you’ve been damned sick woman. If you’d have stayed asleep just a few more hours you would have been three days unconscious in your bed. I showed up here a few days ago and you were delirious with fever in your bed and poor Langley was scared to death. I sent him after the doc and the doc said you have a lung infection….”
Rose groaned. “You sent for the doc?”
“Yes.” Marston’s golden eyes narrowed. “And you need to get to explaining why you didn’t do so sooner.”
Rose’s stomach clenched as a loud growl came from deep within it. She grimaced and laid her hand over her middle. “Can I eat before you scold me?”
Marston grumbled unintelligibly under his breath as he stood straight. “I’ll bring you something. You have to stay in this bed. The doc said you need rest. He’ll be by today to check on you again, but I can tell already that your breathing sounds better. So you stay in this bed and let me get your food. The doc said it could be weeks until you’re feeling strong again.”
“Weeks?!” Rose exclaimed, whimpering when pain tore through her lungs.
Marston laid a gentle hand on her dirty hair. “Calm yourself, woman,” he warned, the sternness in his voice not matching the tenderness in his touch.
“But Marston... I can’t stay in this bed for weeks. I have things to do.”
“No you don’t,” Marston quickly replied. He squared his shoulders and Rose knew she had met her match in stubbornness. “I’m here now and I’ll take care of things. Now, let me go get you something for that stomach.”
“Marston?” Rose called, stopping him in the doorway.
He turned and raised his brow. “What?”
Rose fidgeted and toyed with the sheet covering her. “How long.. how long do you plan on staying for?”
Give My Love to Rose Page 11