Gil moved toward her. Eb fell in a heap on the ground. Gil grabbed Trish off the horse and into his arms.
Just holding her close reassured him. He wouldn't let her go again. He kissed her on the forehead and held her against him for a long moment as his heartbeat finally slowed.
"It's over…" he whispered in her ear.
The woman came up to them, "Lord have mercy… I wasn't sure if you were still alive."
Trish pulled away from Gil and stood up by herself. "This is Margaret, Noel's wife, and these are her children."
"Margaret… I'm alive… I think." Trish smiled wanly.
"I heard you screamin' but I was afraid to go in there…" Margaret grabbed her chest.
Trish reached for her hand. "I’m alive. Aren't I? I will be all right, won't I?" She looked at Gil.
"We all will…" Gil helped her back to the house. She barely looked at him.
Bruises covered her and her face was banged up good, but Eb hadn't erased her beauty.
"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," he barely managed.
Booker pulled Margaret aside, but Gil could still hear them. "Want to tell me what all happened here?"
Margaret looked into Booker's eyes and glanced at the kids. An older boy was holding a girl. "I'm mighty glad you showed up…" She admitted to Booker. "Usually don't have much to do with the law, Sheriff, but this is one time I'm mighty glad you came."
Booker nodded and adjusted his hat. "Me too. I'm sorry about your husband, ma'am."
"He was a good man. He tried to stop him… Eb shot my little Pamela first. Just took his gun aimed it out the window while she was playin' and kilt her dead. My only hope is that Jesus was there to walk her to heaven."
"We'll bury them for you," the older boy said.
"Thank you, son."
Gil watched Trish as she slumped into the chair. "What can I do for you?"
She didn't move. "Just get me away from here," she finally whispered. "I need to get away from here. Please…" She pleaded, glancing around frantically.
He nodded.
After they buried Noel and Pamela, they said a few words over them and promised to help Margaret any way they could.
Booker told her he had to get back into town and make his reports. "I'll be comin' out here to check on you, ma'am. You and the young'uns gonna be all right?"
"We'll be just fine, but I'd like you to come by when you can, sheriff."
"You bet I will. Good day to you then."
Gil helped Trish on his horse. and they rode back the way they came. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her at her ear. "God, I'm sorry… honey."
Gil didn't know what to say to her. He'd promised to keep her safe and now this. How could he make it up to her?
"We'll have the doc look after her when we get back," Booker told them.
Gil nodded. Trish didn't respond. Her eyes had gone glassy, and she was no longer responding to anyone.
Ron glanced at them, but like Gil, he didn't seem to know what to say.
They made camp that night on the trail home. Trish sat down and didn't move again until time came to sleep. She looked as though she were in shock.
Booker came up to Gil. "Don't fret. We are gonna take good care of her. She'll get over it, but it's gonna take some time. You're gonna have to be patient with her. She sure is a strong woman."
Gil nodded. "She's the strongest woman I know Sheriff, the strongest and prettiest."
The Sheriff looked at her and then Gil. "You know something, I think you are right."
Gil nodded. "I know I am!"
Chapter Seventeen
The ride back to town was quiet, and no one said much. Flashbacks hit her like some silent storm. She remembered fighting a man off of her. She remembered him hitting her, hurting her, and then a darkness surrounding her.
Trish vaguely remembered hearing the sheriff's voice. And she cherished the moment He wrapped his arms around her and told her she was safe now. It had been like going from hell to heaven. She felt safe once more.
Trish didn't know what to say to any of them now. She didn't want their pity. All she wanted was to go home, clean herself, and rest. She felt like curling up in a ball and going to sleep.
But she glanced at Gil several times. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. She somehow remembered that he was important to her, but how she wasn't sure. And the others she didn't know at all.
Her mind wasn't functioning too well just yet. It would take a while to get over what had happened. If she could get over it. But exactly what had happened wasn't clear. She tried her best to remember, but she couldn't. It frustrated her.
~*~
The sheriff and deputy rode behind them. When they finally got back to town, Booker dismounted and came to stand beside Gil. "I'd take her to Doc Malloy. He's very good and quite gentle I'm told."
"Where's his office?"
"Next street over from Main," he directed.
"Okay. I think I'll take her now. She needs to be seen as soon as possible."
"Good idea."
"Thanks for all your help, both of you." Gil flashed them both a sad smile.
The deputy tipped his hat, and the sheriff nodded. "Just glad we got her back in one piece. Let us know if we can do anything for you." The Sheriff undid his bedroll.
"Thanks." Gil nodded to them both and took Trish into his arms.
She couldn't stand, too weak, so he carried her.
It was late at night and he doubted he would find the doctor there, but he had to try.
Gil found the doctor's office and set her on her feet for a moment as he knocked on the door. He was about to open the door when she fainted.
Gil grabbed her up into his arms once more and carried her inside.
The doctor looked like he was about to close up for the day.
"Doc, she needs you…bad."
"What seems to be the trouble?" The doctor walked over and studied her a moment, feeling her forehead for a fever.
"I'll explain it all. Can we get her to a bed or sofa or something?"
"Sure, sure, come on in. You can put her in the bed in there. I don't have any patients at the moment."
After laying her down, Gil studied the doctor for several long moments. He noted the uneven haircut, the bushy brows, and the concern in his face. It was the concern that convinced him he had the right doctor.
He began whispering into the doc's ear. He glanced at Trish. Even though she was still out of it, she shouldn't hear all of this.
"Good Lord, you don't say. Then she's in shock." The doctor glanced at her once more.
"Yes, I think so."
"All right. Aare you her husband?"
"Yes, yes I am…"
"Good. Well, you just take a seat outside there and let me do a thorough examination of her, and I'll be out as soon as I've completed it," he instructed him.
"Thanks," Gil said, knowing the hard part was waiting.
The doc spent a long time in there with her, and Gil began to pace. He hoped nothing had been damaged that bad, but he knew she had been roughed up from the way Margaret had talked and the bruises. Margaret had been beside herself with worry for Trish and her kids.
Directly the doc came out and closed the door. "She's sleeping now. I gave her a sedative. She'll need plenty of rest. I've sewn up a big gash in her skull and treated her outside wounds, but I can't be sure of what was done inside. I know she's been raped. That's apparent by the bruises on her legs. It looks as though she fought him off as much as she could. She's suffered a lot, not just physically but mentally, more than you might imagine. I've seen it in soldiers during the war. They'd come home with no notion that they were home, or who they were. It's called amnesia. We don't know much about it yet, but we are learning all the time. It happens when someone has been through a terrible ordeal, usually. The memory is still in tack, but they don't know that. She has a mild concussion too. That can contribute to it. Also severe stress can cause such a reaction. And we ca
n't be sure just how much she has pushed away into her memory. She'll need bed rest for a few days and then gradually try to get her back to her old self. There is very little we can do except talk to her and try to bring out what actually happened to her. Once she remembers, it can also be traumatic."
"Will she mend all right?" Gil asked, unaware of the tension within him as his hands were busy with a button on his shirt, and he seemed unaware of even touching it.
"A lot of that may depend on you. She's been severely raped, and that is traumatic for any woman. She'll need your help to get over it. That in itself is something a woman does not want to remember. To get past it. This wasn't her fault by any means. I can see by her fingernails she fought this man with all her might. She seems to me to be a very strong woman, but no matter how strong the mind can play tricks on you under stress."
"What do you mean by her fingernails?"
"There is skin and hair under her fingernails, or there was. I cleaned them out. She must have got in a few bad scratches from the looks of it. She didn't go down without a fight."
"She'll mend though, right?" Gil asked once more to be sure.
"With your help, she'll mend. There will be things she can't remember, like her name, her home, her husband, but given time she should pull out of it. I will want to see her every week until she begins to recover."
Gil sighed with relief. "Thanks doc. I'll be there for her."
The doc frowned and stared into Gil's eyes. "It's crucial you don't blame her for what happened. She'll probably do enough of that herself. You must cheer her on to recovery. Let her know that nothing has changed. It's important to her mending."
"I understand. Can I take her home?"
The doc shook his head. "I'd like to keep her at least overnight until I'm sure she's doing okay. Tomorrow would be best."
"Should I spend the night here too, then?"
"No, that isn't necessary. I have a bedroom connecting to my patient's room, so I can check on them through the night. I'll be here with her."
"Does she need anything tonight?"
"No. I think the less we bother her, the better right now. Let's let her rest up, and when she is strong enough, she can go home."
Gil nodded. "You know best."
"Her face will mend easily enough. Luckily he didn't knock any of her teeth out. He must have tried to choke her at one point, as there's a big bruise there at her throat. She's been beaten, but those wounds haven't done the damage that the trauma itself did. She'll recover with help, but you will need patience."
"I'd rather not know everything, doc. I want to kill him all over again, but he's already dead," Gil explained.
The doc put his arm around Gil. "Now, son, you've got to stay optimistic about all this, starting right now. She'll mend physically, but sometimes these things can have a terrible effect on their mental condition. Some women never do come out of it right. From what you've said, I think she'll heal in time."
Gil nodded. "Don't worry, she'll get all the encouragement she needs, I'll see to that. Can I see her before I leave?" he pleaded.
"Sure."
Gil went inside. She was slumped down in the bed, fast asleep. Even with the bruises, she was beautiful. He went to her side, and the temptation was too great. He had to touch her in some way, to let her know everything was going to be all right. He bent his head and kissed her on the lips. Something inside him changed as he communicated to her his feelings. Her lips were cold at first and unresponsive, but she moaned and she moved just a bit. Not wanting to wake her, he stepped back but the connection he made was like a new bond that grew between them.
"I'll be back first thing tomorrow," he whispered as he walked slowly to the door. He turned one last time and looked at her before leaving.
When he returned to the hotel, the desk clerk stopped him. "Did you find her, Mr. Davis?"
The concern in the man's voice stopped Gil. Gil had thought the man short and little before, but at this moment he realized the caring of another individual and he never would look upon him as short or little again.
"Yes, I found her, thanks."
"Is she all right?"
"What's your name?" Gil came toward the desk.
"Frank Richards, sir." The little man backed up a bit.
"I'm going to remember you, Frank, for asking. I'm going to remember you for caring. She isn't all right, but she will be."
Frank twisted his head, visibly relaxed a bit, and came forward. The desk clerk smiled at him. "If there is anything we can do, please let us know."
Gil nodded. "Not tonight, but thank you."
"Goodnight, sir." He nodded to him.
Gil climbed the stairs alone, his heart heavy. With thoughts of how the little man at the desk had grown in his opinion. With thoughts that Trish had survived despite her mistreatment. He silently wished Eb wasn't dead. He wanted to hunt him down like a dog and kill him himself. He wished he could do something to the man to make him pay for his atrocities. And he wished he could hold her too, all night long.
Chapter Eighteen
She woke the next morning in a doctor's office. She didn't recognize anything in the room nor the man who came to check on her. Certificates hung on the wall and a family picture sat on the counter, but nothing looked familiar to her. The smell of his office was sterile, everything looked sparkling clean. The man himself looked clean and well kept.
As he came near her, she shied away from him and blurted, "Who are you?"
"I'm Doctor Malloy. How are you feeling this morning?"
She sat up in the bed. "I don't know… What do I need a doctor for? Why am I here? Who brought me?"
"My, you are full of questions." He smiled with a mild grunt as he put his hand over her forehead. Then he took her arm and seemed to be counting something. "You were hurt, and your husband brought you to me," he explained patiently. "Your eyes are clear, your pulse is strong, and you have no fever. That's all very good signs."
"Signs of what?"
"That you are doing better today… than when your husband brought you to me," he said simply.
"You keep saying my husband, but I assure you, I am not married."
"Then who is the gentleman that brought you here, who wanted to stay the night with you?" The doctor gestured to outside the door.
"I'm sure I have no idea… I should go."
The doctor stayed her with one hand. "I don't think you are ready for that just yet."
Trish stared at the magnificent gold watch protruding from his vest pocket, mesmerized for a moment. The old man demanded respect.
Even so, she had questions. "Why are you detaining me? Exactly who is this husband you keep speaking of?"
The doctor frowned at her and checked her eyelids. "Yes… Mr. Davis."
Trish stared at the doctor for a long moment. "But… I don't have a husband."
The doctor looked at her strangely. "Very well. Are you hungry?"
"Yes, I am." Trish tried to smile, but her face hurt so bad, she couldn't.
"I'll have some breakfast sent from the café. You just rest easy now."
"I suppose I should be thankful, for you and Mr. Davis." Trish sank back into the bed. Her mind would not work. She didn't know who she was, where she was, or where she belonged, and she certainly couldn't remember having a husband.
She was reasonably sure this man was telling the truth, he was a doctor. No one else would keep the room so neatly. Still she didn't feel as though she needed him. She wanted to go home, but where might that be?
Something niggled in the back of her mind. Why was she here? Why did her face hurt?
She started to get up, but dizziness overwhelmed her and she lay back down immediately. Perhaps she wasn't ready to leave after all.
She closed her eyes. "I'll think about it later. I don't understand why the doctor thought I was married…" She glanced at her finger and saw no wedding ring.
An hour later, the doctor shook her awake. He put a tray of food on her
lap. "You must sit up and try to eat now."
Startled, she jerked away. Who was this man?
She stared at him and slid down into the covers once more. "Who are you?" she asked under the sheets.
"I told you. I'm doctor Malloy, remember?"
"Oh." She peeked out at him. "Oh, yes… of course."
She sat up and looked at the eggs, bacon, and coffee with biscuits on the side. Suddenly starved, she dove into the food like an animal.
"Easy does it now…"
"Oh." She stopped. "I'm just so hungry."
"Of course you are, but I don't want you choking. Your throat was damaged some too."
She tried to go slower now, as the doctor seemed to watch everything she did. He looked as though he were studying her. It made her uncomfortable at first, but gradually she got used to him. She didn't know why she was so untrusting, but she was.
"Why are you staring at me?" she finally asked as she wiped her mouth.
"I’m sorry. That's a nasty bruise on you cheek. How did you get it?"
"Bruise?"
The doctor picked a silver mirror up off the dresser top and handed it to her. "Look for yourself."
She took the mirror and gasped. Just under her left eye was a huge black and green bruise. It looked hideous.
"What happened to me, Doctor?" she cried.
"You were attacked… I'm afraid. You don't remember?"
She wiggled her food around on the plate.. "I guess I don't."
"And your husband… you don't remember him either?" the doctor asked.
"No… I'm not married," she insisted.
"I'm afraid you are. You're Mrs. Davis, Trish Davis, and your husband brought you in last night for me to tend you. I checked on this immediately when you didn't remember. I went by the hotel where you were staying, and several witnesses confirmed that you truly are Mrs. Gil Davis."
Trish's eyes widened. "I think I'd know if I was married, doctor." She pushed the food away now.
"Yes, well, we'll talk about that later. Tell me, do you remember anything about being hurt?"
"No." She looked in the mirror again. "How did I get hurt?"
Winning the Lady (Book 4 of the Red River Valley Brides) Page 12