by Heather Gray
Sarah poured tea for them as Ida looked over the treats that had been included on the tray. “Are those lemon scones?” she asked, pointing to a particularly delectable looking treat.
The heaviness of the previous conversation seemed to evaporate from the room as the two sipped their tea and tasted the various delights that had accompanied it. They continued to visit, but neither of them brought up Samuel again. They compared sewing techniques, talked about John’s job at the school and even discussed politics a bit.
By the time Ida and Sarah finished talking, the sun had set and darkness was settling over the town of Larkspur. The doctor returned to check on Samuel as John showed up to take Ida home. Even though she’d slept during the afternoon, Sarah was more tired than she could ever remember being. She had learned so much about Samuel today. She couldn’t reconcile the sad and broken boy she’d learned about with the laughing man she’d come to know. She wondered if that young hurting boy was still in there somewhere. As she pondered the differences between the man she knew and the young boy Ida had described, she realized they never got around to discussing his ticklish spot or how Ida had discovered it. With a smile, Sarah filed that away. She would let Samuel tell her about it someday.
The remainder of the night was uneventful after John took Ida home. Samuel showed no more sign of fever, but neither did he wake and smile at Sarah. By the time the sun rose the next morning, Sarah sat in her chair, barely able to keep her eyes open. Mrs. Smith sent her off to bed with the promise to wake her if there was any change.
****
Sarah awoke after having slept straight through for ten hours. She quickly dressed, stopped in the kitchen to scarf down a bite to eat in a most unladylike fashion, and then stepped into the parlor-cum-patient-room. As she entered, she saw Doctor Billingsly was already there. Doc met Sarah with a smile.
“Our patient is doing well this afternoon,” he said in answer to the question in Sarah’s eyes. “In fact, I think he might be waking up.” Before Sarah could get around the doctor and to the bed, he added, “I need to go make my rounds at the jail. Afterward, I will be at my office or upstairs in my quarters. Come get me, wherever I am, if he does actually wake up. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. Let’s call it a hunch.”
Sarah nodded emphatically. “Oh yes, Doc Billingsly, oh yes, I’ll come get you. Don’t you worry about a thing!”
Mrs. Smith and Doc shared an amused look as Sarah rushed the doctor out the door and returned to where Samuel lay. Her Bible was still in the room, and she sat down to read to him. She decided the Psalms would be a wonderful place to pick up.
After Sarah had been reading about twenty minutes, she heard a groan from the bed. Her gaze flew to the source of the sound, but she saw no change in Samuel’s face, nothing to indicate he was waking. Returning to her reading, she hoped he enjoyed the Psalms because she wasn’t planning to stop until his eyes were open! Right as that thought entered her head, Sarah glanced up to take a peek at Samuel.
The breath whooshed out of her as she found herself gazing into the gold-flecked brown depths of his eyes. He was awake! He looked glorious. Despite the injuries and the inactivity that had followed them, Samuel’s eyes sparkled, looking more alert than she had expected. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him.
Common sense caught up with her before long, and she realized how parched he must be. She rushed to get him a drink and then ran out the door yelling, “I told Doc I’d get him as soon as you woke up!”
****
Samuel closed his eyes as soon as Sarah left the room. He was sorry she’d gone. It had been good to look at her, to drink in the sight of her, whole and healthy. Worry for her had ridden him hard as he rose into consciousness. Dreams should not be that vivid. As he had started to wake, all the sights and sounds of her death came rushing in, causing him to relive Sarah’s brutal end, the terrible details of which he had witnessed dozens of times in his dreams. Floating up toward the edge of wakefulness and hearing her voice had convinced him he had died, succumbing to his injuries. He had been certain when he finally opened his eyes he would find himself in heaven. Sarah disabused him of that notion, though, when she went running out the door.
Samuel shook the visions of death in his mind’s eye, determined to believe Sarah was alive and that the invasive mental image he was battling was not real, had never been real. Surely Sarah wouldn’t have gone running after the doctor if they were in heaven. His joy at finding Sarah whole and hearty overwhelmed him. Thank you, Jesus. With that heartfelt prayer, he drifted back off to sleep, certain Sarah would have a thing or two to say about it when she returned and found him sleeping again.
****
When Sarah came bursting back through the door, practically dragging Doc Billingsly along by his arm, Mrs. Smith quickly jumped up from the seat she had taken and hushed them both. Having difficulty obeying, Sarah twisted her hands together and shifted anxiously from one foot to the other.
“He’s asleep again,” Mrs. Smith whispered to them.
Sarah felt instantly deflated. “Are you sure? He was awake when I left.” As if he’d heard the question, Samuel let out a loud snore. Doc and Mrs. Smith chuckled at the evidence.
“Oh bother!” Sarah was so frustrated she wanted to stomp her foot. She refrained, though, and chuckled. “Does this mean he’s out of the woods, Doc?”
“It’s hard to say yet, but it certainly looks better for him now than it did a day ago. Infection and blood poisoning are dangers for anyone with injuries like Samuel’s. Once he is awake enough for me to talk to him, I’ll have a better idea of how he is doing.”
“Why do you need to talk to him to gauge that?” inquired Sarah.
Standing tall under Doc Billingsly’s scrutiny, Sarah met his gaze. She wanted to know what the doctor was thinking, and she did not intend to back down. Eventually he spoke, “High fevers can sometimes harm the brain. I need to talk with Samuel so I can determine if there was any obvious damage to the brain. If he can speak coherently and answer questions, though not completely conclusive…” Doc seemed to be searching for words and finally finished, “…it would be good.” The doctor shrugged then, as though apologizing for not finding a better way to explain.
Sarah found herself truly looking at Doc for the first time in days. She saw the dark circles under his eyes and the fatigue written across every line of his face. Feeling a bit guilty for demanding so much of his attention lately, she asked, “Were you done at the jail when I found you? Perhaps you should go get some rest. I’ll come get you if Samuel wakes again.”
Relief in his voice, Doc said, “That’s an excellent idea. I was indeed done and wouldn’t mind getting some sleep. Do me a favor, though.” When Sarah looked at him expectantly, he went on. “Cook some broth for Samuel and try to get him to drink it when he comes to again. If he falls right back to sleep, don’t bother waking me. Come and get me when he can stay awake for more than fifteen minutes.”
As the doctor left, Sarah directed her attention to Mrs. Smith who said, “I’ll go start a broth to cooking. I intend to mention to the mayor, though, that this town needs a nurse. There’s too much work for the doctor to handle alone, and there needs to be a chaperone at his office when he sees patients – or when a loved one wants to sit with a patient. It would save a lot of trouble and inconvenience, and give the gossips in town a lot less to fuss about. I’ll mention it over dinner.” Mrs. Smith went on to say, “I’m not saying you or Samuel are a bother. I can’t help but wonder, though, what might have happened if we hadn’t been able to provide a room for Samuel.”
Sarah knew Mrs. Smith didn’t mind sitting with her or making the broth or giving up her parlor, but she did have a valid point about the need for a nurse. Not everyone in the doctor’s care had someone who was willing to sit with them non-stop, giving the doctor a break to get some sleep, and not everyone who came in to help with a patient was going to be married. A nurse would indeed be a good idea.
“Perhaps we should place an ad,” Sarah said lightly.
Mrs. Smith’s expression could have peeled paint. “I dare say, an ad is the last thing this town needs to be placing!”
The absurdity of the moment got the better of both women, and they laughed wholeheartedly.
Chapter Sixteen
Samuel could feel movement around him, which seemed strange. Shouldn’t he be hearing movement instead of feeling it? He could feel pain, burning hot and pulsating throughout most of his body. It was especially concentrated, though, on the right side. Samuel tried to get his bearings. He couldn’t tell at first if this was real or a dream. He used to have nightmares much like this when he was a kid.
A fragrance floated about him. He couldn’t quite place the smell, but it reminded him of home. As he worked to identify the odor, his brain began to untangle the other sensations in his body. He was able to pinpoint the origin of the pain to somewhere in his upper body. His legs didn’t hurt at all. He was silently taking inventory of his different limbs to determine the extent of the damage when he felt an entirely different kind of discomfort.
He wondered how long he had been laying here. He assumed he was at the doctor’s, or laid up somewhere in bed. Had he seen Sarah alive? Intense images of her death flashed brightly through his mind, but he could not sort them out enough to tell which were real and which were from his dreams.
Fighting to open his eyes, Samuel tried to remain still and focus his energy on getting his eyes opened. After what felt like an interminable stretch of time, he finally had his eyelids at half-mast, barely able to see out beneath his lashes at the space around him.
What he saw warmed his heart. Sarah sat there beside him, head bowed, either asleep or praying. But she was well. The nightmare images of her death could be purged from his memory. He doubted he’d ever fully forget those mental pictures, but as long as he could take an equal number of her, alive and well, he was certain the terror that had accompanied those deathly images would eventually fade in intensity.
Wanting to lay there and drink in the sight before him, Samuel again felt the pressing discomfort of his bladder and questioned how long he’d been laying there. “Doc,” was all he managed to croak from his painfully dry throat.
Sarah’s head shot up, and her eyes shone with joy. “Oh Samuel, we’ve been so worried. I’ve been so worried. Let me get you a drink.”
She quickly bustled and brought him a cup of fragrant broth, identifying for him the smell he’d caught a whiff of earlier. Samuel took a couple of sips with Sarah’s help, hoping that getting some fluid into him would make it easier to speak.
“I need Doc,” he said more clearly this time.
Sarah looked like she was going to argue with him for a moment there. As she looked at Samuel, though, her expression softened. Resting the back of her hand on his cheek, she said, “I’ll go get him straightaway.” Then she rushed out the door, yelling to Mrs. Smith that she was going for Doc.
As Samuel lay there waiting for Sarah to return with the doctor, Mrs. Smith stepped in to check on him. “Well, look at you,” she said with a smile. “We’ve all been so worried about you,” she said, warmth in her voice.
“Is Sarah really okay?” Samuel croaked, his voice raw.
Mrs. Smith looked at him oddly for a moment before replying. “Sarah is just fine. A little overtired from staying up with you so much, but she’s unharmed.”
“I thaw she gaw hur in the shooing,” he said, his words not entirely clear, even to his own ears.
Mrs. Smith looked puzzled for a moment before understanding dawned on her face. “Arty kept us in the cellar like you’d told him. We stayed there until the sheriff came for us. Sarah is just fine. She wasn’t hurt in the shooting.”
Samuel closed his eyes in relief. “Thake you,” he said.
“Would you like a drink?” Mrs. Smith asked.
Samuel shook his head and then winced at the pain. “No,” he said. “I nee Doc.”
****
Sarah burst through the Smiths front door, Doc Billingsly in tow. If Samuel needed the doctor, he was getting the doctor!
He’s awake! He’s awake! He’s awake! That thought had reverberated through her mind the entire way to Doc’s and back. Every step she’d taken had beaten out that rhythm. He’s awake! He’s awake! He’s awake!
Sarah shut the front door behind them as Mrs. Smith stepped out into the foyer. When Doc Billingsly stepped around the women and into the sitting room, Mrs. Smith shut the door behind him.
Sarah started pacing, her steps moving faster with each pass through the foyer. Mrs. Smith finally told her, “It’ll be alright dear. Why don’t you come into the kitchen and have a cup of tea?”
“Why didn’t he want to see me? Why did you shut the door on him and Doc?”
Mrs. Smith, back ramrod straight and not a trace of emotion on her face, said, “I imagine he needed assistance with a personal matter.”
Sarah stared, her mind blank. What was the woman trying to say?
“Uh-hem,” Mrs. Smith cleared her throat and then continued, “It would be indelicate of us to discuss this further.” Realization dawned, and Sarah felt the pink begin to climb up her neck and cheeks. The speed of her steps doubled as she moved toward the kitchen. “Tea would be lovely,” she said, avoiding eye contact.
A short time later, Doc Billingsly joined the women in the kitchen. “He’s sleeping again,” he said upon entering, “but I do believe he’s on the mend.”
“How can you be sure?” Sarah wondered.
“You, dear,” began the doctor, “would make a fine medical student with that inquisitive mind of yours.”
Sarah appreciated the compliment but was not to be deterred. When she continued to look at Doc expectantly, he had no choice but to answer her.
“His bodily functions are working, the fever has not returned, and his mind seems to be intact.”
Sarah set a cup of tea before the doctor, and he paused to take a drink before continuing. “He seems to have had some pretty vivid dreams while unconscious, and he might get those dreams confused with reality for a time. If he asks questions, just answer the matter-of-factly and don’t make too much of a fuss over it. I think he’ll get it all sorted out in time.”
“What sorts of dreams?” Sarah wanted to know.
Doc Billingsly waved his hand dismissively and said, “Just dreams about the shooting, dear. Nothing to fret over.” Doc drained his cup and then gave Sarah a piercing look, saying, “You should return to work tomorrow, at least for part of the day.” When Sarah began to protest, he cut her off, saying, “Samuel is stable and doing better. You need to get out of this house. Enjoy some exercise and fresh air – which you can do at work – before I end up with two patients in this house.”
Sarah balked at the thought of leaving Samuel, knowing if she worked during the day she would not be able to stay up with him at night. She refused to dignify the doctor’s suggestion with a response, and, a short while later, Doc Billingsly took his leave and headed back to his office.
****
Evening approached, and Sarah sat at the dinner table with Minnie and the Smiths. She had wanted to remain with Samuel, who was sleeping, but Mrs. Smith had insisted, saying, “He’ll be fine for the short time you join us. Besides, we’ll be able to hear him if he wakes and needs anything.”
Mayor Smith dominated the conversation, answering the many questions everyone had for him and confirming much of what Ida had already told Sarah about Samuel’s role in events. The mayor even filled in some of what Ida had not known, such as how Samuel came to be shot.
“One of the new deputies stepped out of position. He was directly in the line of fire but didn’t seem to realize it. Samuel broke cover to protect the deputy. The deputy is unharmed because Samuel took the bullets meant for him.”
“Who is the deputy?” Sarah asked.
“It’s irrelevant,” the mayor said firmly.
Not willing to let the mayo
r shut the door on that topic just yet, Sarah began to protest. “Surely…”
Mayor Smith shook his head to stop her. He finished chewing the bite of roast he’d just taken and then said, “Sarah, word may get out anyway, but I don’t want to be the source of it. The deputy is guilt-ridden and has already been by my office three times to check on Samuel. Though he can ill afford it, he has vowed to pay all of Samuel’s medical bills.”
Minnie asked, “How will he pay the bills if Sheriff Spooner fires him?”
Smiling at his daughter, the mayor answered, “The deputy has learned a very valuable lesson about following orders and sticking to the plan. Sheriff Spooner is keeping him on for now and has put him on patrol duty keeping an eye on the outlying farms. As for the medical bills, Samuel was injured while doing his job in the employ of the city, so the city will be paying for his care.” With a mischievous grin, he added, “I haven’t told the deputy that yet, though. And,” he added, “if I know the sheriff, he is mentoring that young deputy and using this opportunity to teach him some lessons that will last a lifetime.”
Mrs. Smith broke into the conversation. Looking at her husband, she announced, “Doc Billingsly thinks Sarah should return to work tomorrow, at least for part of the day.” Then, “What do you think?”
Mayor Smith flashed his eyes from his wife to Sarah. He studied Sarah’s face for the briefest moment before saying, “Our houseguest will not likely be thanking you for mentioning that, love.”
Chagrined, Sarah schooled her features. She had no right to be upset with these people who had been so kind to her, opening their home and offering her their protection during these difficult times in the town.
“I think, Sarah, that you should check on Samuel tomorrow on your way to the stage office. Then get to the stage office and check on Ida, see how things are going, catch up on paperwork, and take care of whatever else needs your undivided attention. As soon as you can get away and return here, that’s fine.”