The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  She didn’t feel encouraging, but her time to mourn would come later. Right now, too many wounded bodies and hearts needed her. No longer the innocent she had been when she first met Josephine a quarter century ago; raising a family and living life had taught her much.

  So had Josephine.

  Louise bit her lip, blinked back the tears that threatened and focused on Shannon.

  Still walking backwards, she led the men to a small guest room normally reserved for the Reverend Fontaine. The firm bed would better support Shannon’s back and offer less wiggles to the injured ribs.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. You may set her down in this room. Shannon, dear heart, I’m going to send James to get Sarah, and then we’ll get you changed.”

  James left the room. For the first time, Louise noticed a tear glisten in Shannon’s eyes.

  Louise took the girl’s hand and knelt next to her. “Oh, dear, I am so sorry this is hurting. I’m afraid it will hurt more before we’re through.”

  “Not…that.” Shannon stopped for breath. “No…more…clothes.”

  “No more clothes? No, don’t worry about it right now.”

  James returned with Sarah behind him.

  “James, she says she has no more clothes. I have a gown for her for tonight, but where are her things? What does she mean?”

  “She means, we used her clothing to make bandages for her and for Alain-Robert.”

  Louise knew there was more to the story, but that could wait until later. While Sarah and James stayed with the wounded girl, she ran to her own room and found a chemise of soft linen with embroidered Celtic knots around the hem. She would also need long strips to bind around the injured ribs. Locating those, where Josephine had laid them only yesterday, she hurried back to Shannon.

  Louise stopped outside the door, took a deep breath and put on a smile before entering. “Now James, I’m going to have to send you out. Sarah and I will take good care of Shannon. Go downstairs and make sure your sisters are doing well.”

  “I’ll wait just outside the door.”

  “No.” She needed to be firm on this. He didn’t need to listen through the door. “Your sisters have been keeping watch by themselves for some time now. I need you to make sure they are managing.” She cupped her hand to his cheek. “I’ll send for you, I promise.”

  James stood to his full height, towering over her. For a moment she thought he would refuse to obey, but he turned to Shannon.

  “I’ll be right downstairs. I can be back here faster than you can blink.” She gave a half-hearted smile and blinked at him. He smiled back and left, closing the door after.

  “Ladies, we need to get you, Shannon, standing.” Together Louise and Sarah helped Shannon to her feet. She couldn’t put any weight on her right leg, but she could balance with the women’s help. They began by unbinding her, then slipping off the wet clothes. The bruise on Shannon’s ribcage spanned the size of Louise’s palm, but it had already turned a deep purple. Louise’s heart squeezed even tighter and she bit her lip. She glanced at Sarah.

  The girl’s eyes filled with tears.

  Louise gathered the chemise together and dropped it over Shannon’s head. Once it was in place, arms in the sleeves and her hair pulled free, it was time to rebind her ribs.

  “When the binding is in place, you must try to breathe as deeply as you can. The binding must be tight, and it will make it hard, but please believe me, it is essential that you breathe as deeply as you can. Do you understand?”

  Shannon nodded. She seemed so pale. Louise didn’t know how much more she could take.

  Picking up the binding strips, Louise set to wrapping them around Shannon’s ribs while Sarah held her arms up. Just like Aaron and Hur did for Moses. Oh, Lord bring us victory in all of this.

  Once bound, the worst part still lay ahead—getting Shannon onto the bed.

  Turning her so the girl’s back was to the bed, Louise stood on one side and Sarah the other, facing the bed. Shannon rested her upper arms on their shoulders. They guided while she hopped closer to the bed’s edge, each hop bringing a soft cry of pain. At the edge, Louise and Sarah lowered her to a sitting position. Then Louise deftly turned and lowered Shannon’s back to the mattress of the box bed, keeping a hand on the girl’s back to keep it straight. Sarah lifted the legs and finally, Shannon lay flat.

  Now Louise could see to her leg.

  Carefully undoing the makeshift brace, she noticed one of the stays had been rubbing on Shannon’s calf, causing a sore.

  “I’ll be right back. I neglected to bring in a couple supplies.”

  Shannon reached up and grabbed Louise’s hand.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Shannon nodded and released her.

  Louise opened the bedroom door, stepped into the hall and closed the door again. Leaning against the jam, the pent-up tears threatened. Not now. There was a time to weep and a time to do. Now she must do. Lord, give me the wisdom and strength.

  Wiping her wrist across her eyes, she took a deep breath and went in search of what she needed.

  * * *

  Seeing Shannon’s suffering up close, Sarah’s guilt nearly overwhelmed her. The words she needed to say lay caught in her throat.

  Kneeling by the bed, she took Shannon’s hand. Sarah bent her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed for strength. Once more, she opened her eyes to see the wounded young woman.

  “Shannon, this is all my fault. I am so sorry, so truly sorry.”

  Shannon pulled her hand back.

  Sarah’s heart broke further.

  Then the Widow cupped Sarah’s cheek. “You…didn’t do…this. Kevin…O’Rourke…did.”

  Sarah started to speak but Shannon’s fingers touched her lips.

  “I chose…to leave…because…of my…pride.” She paused. “Not…your…fault.”

  Blinded by tears, Sarah stroked Shannon’s hair. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Nothing…to forgive.”

  But Sarah knew better. She’d asked forgiveness of God and of Shannon. Yet the burden still weighed heavy on her heart.

  Somehow Shannon found and grasped Sarah’s hand again. “Tis well…between…us.”

  It may be well between them, but something wasn’t right. Sarah was grateful, though, for the girl’s forgiveness. She kissed Shannon’s hand that grasped her own.“Thank you.”

  And they remained like that; Sarah holding the back of Shannon’s hand to her cheek with one hand and stroking Shannon’s hair back from her forehead with the other.

  The young widow appeared so weak, so frail, yet even now, with her body broken, she held more depth of spirit, more sustaining strength than Sarah could imagine. More earnestly than ever, Sarah prayed for Shannon O’Connor.

  * * *

  James stomped out another glowing ember. One more step closer to returning to Shannon’s side. He raked a new clump of ash free and imagined her well and whole.

  And in his arms.

  “All the horses are stabled at my barn. The cow is milked and out in the pasture. Do you want me here or elsewhere?” Joseph stood at the entrance of what had been his father’s barn.

  Morning, like the doctor, had come and gone, as did the constable who arranged for the families to collect their dead after taking Donovan Cummings and Patrick Flanagan to jail.

  As soon as light allowed, Father had them all working. James silently stuck with the arduous task of raking out the debris from between the stone walls and stomping live coals ready to burst into flame.

  Joseph had volunteered to find the horses, check for injuries, and milk the cow.

  That was fine with James. Anything allowing him to remain alone in his thoughts. He moved to another area further from the rest.

  “This is the biggest job. Find a rake and join us.” Father’s focus was on the job. He missed the emotional turmoil roiling right in front of him. But James wasn’t ready to discuss it anyway. He glanced up at the man. Smudged with soot, Fathe
r appeared older today, as though the fire aged him overnight. This barn that he built by hand, stone upon stone, appeared more like a Celtic giant of old, yawning, with is mouth full of blackened granite teeth and charred rubble. So, perhaps he understood. James returned to his task.

  A shift in the atmosphere caused him to glance up.

  Father leaned on his rake, staring at him.

  “James, I’m thinking we need Gabriel.” He met his father’s gaze.

  “I’m not going. I’m not leaving here while Shannon is unable to move.”

  “Your mother is caring for the Widow. There’s nothing you can do here. But you can help—”

  “I’m not going. Send Joseph or Robert.” James moved to another area and returned to raking, closing the subject.

  “I’ll go.” Robert sounded almost eager.

  “Good. Go clean up and leave immediately. I do not believe we have time to spare.”

  James took the last comment as a commentary on his refusal. He didn’t care. The woman lying in the room upstairs needed him. Whether she knew it or not, they needed each other. He wasn’t going to leave her to go racing off to Glasgow.

  Robert propped his rake against the stone wall and headed for the well. James longed to join him there and clean up so he could go upstairs. Instead he drew his rake through the ashes again, finding yet another live ember. So like the tiny ember of fear beginning to glow in his mind.

  He stomped them both out.

  “Robert, ask Mary Frances or Sarah Beth to bring out something to eat, and we’ll take a break.”

  “Aye.”

  The men continued working several more minutes until Father laid aside his rake. “Come lads, rinse off and rest a bit. You have worked hard and well. I am proud of you.”

  James shrugged his father’s hand from his shoulder, propping his rake against the wall. “I’m getting a drink.”

  He strode to the well and pulled up a bucket. The first cup cooled his palate. He dumped the second cup on his head to cool his temper.

  It partially worked.

  Chapter Twenty

  Och, wee one. The brochan goes in yer mouth, not out.” Sarah dabbed at Wee Joseph’s chin.

  Lucy giggled. “He’s enjoying himself, that’s for sure.”

  Wee Joseph’s tiny fists beat the air with baby enthusiasm and drool-tainted gruel flew all around.

  “But he is taking something in, and for that, I am grateful. How are ye doing with wee Samuel, there?”

  “He’s done about all he’s going to do, I believe. Should I clean him and see about taking him to visit his mother?”

  Though Lucy should have been in charge in her own home, she seemed to look to Sarah for all the answers.

  Only Sarah had no answers. She prayed and guessed and did her best, praying again that it was the correct thing to do. The babies needed substance; an easily discernible fact. But beyond moment-to-moment care of the little ones, she knew she was lost.

  “Aye, he needs to see her, and she needs to see him. Let me clean this imp, and we can go together.”

  Lucy nodded agreement. They wiped little faces and hands before taking the babies upstairs where they bathed and dressed them.

  “If you stay with the bairns, I’ll go see if the Widow is of the mind to see them.”

  “Aye.” Lucy started a game of peek-a-boo on the floor with the boys, not even looking up when Sarah left.

  Down the hall in the guest room, Louise sat by Shannon’s bed, reading to her.

  Sarah knocked at the open door.

  “Widow O’Connor, would ye be up to some wee visitors?”

  Shannon’s pale face brightened like a lit candle.

  “Help me…please. I need…to be…up.”

  Louise patted the girl’s hand and pulled back the bedclothes. Once again, Sarah moved Shannon’s legs while Louise supported and raised the Widow’s back. Though Shannon’s face blanched, and her eyes squeezed tight, she bit her bottom lip and never uttered a cry. When she sat upright on the edge of the bed, both Sarah and Louise lifted from under her arms and guided her to the straight-backed chair Louise had vacated.

  Shannon picked at her chemise, arranging the folds, before giving a brief nod.

  Sarah returned to the nursery, collected Samuel and signaled for Lucy to bring along Wee Joseph.

  Shannon smiled at her boy, though she didn’t appear to breathe. Louise had placed pillows against the girl’s ribs and on her lap.

  “Here’s yer mama, sweet boy, here’s yer mama.” Sarah knelt next to Shannon’s chair, still holding the child. “Gently, Samuel, gently. Mama’s hurting.”

  The toddler seemed to understand. He lifted his hand to his mother’s cheek and softly patted. “Mama owie.”

  Tears started down Shannon’s cheek. “Samuel…me…darlin’ boy.”

  Samuel tried to climb up onto his mother’s lap, but Sarah held on, allowing no weight or movement to touch Shannon’s torso.

  Wee Joseph squirmed against Lucy, straining toward Shannon. His nurse glanced up just as her milk released, drenching the front of the borrowed gown. Shannon’s eyes grew wide, but Louise chuckled. Picking up her grandson, she brought him closer. “Do not worry, dear heart. Of course, you let down. You haven’t been able to feed him for hours, and your body cannot forget the babe at your breast.”

  “Nor…can me…heart. Aye…Wee Joseph…aye.”

  “Sarah, maybe you and Lucy should return the babes to the nursery. Then you can help me get Shannon into a dry chemise.”

  “Aye.” Sarah pulled the toddler back from his mother and he cried out. “Och. Samuel, we’ll be back, we will. Let’s let yer mama rest, now, darlin’.” She rubbed his back, but the little one’s plaintive cry broke her heart.

  After helping Lucy bring the babies to the nursery, Sarah returned to Shannon’s room.

  Louise lowered the top of the chemise and bathed Shannon’s breasts in cool water. “I am sorry, dear heart, I didn’t think about this discomfort before. I’ve been concerned for your ribs and leg, and now you are so engorged. I think we must do something about this before infection sets in. It will be easier from the chair. Do you think you can do it?”

  Shannon nodded, tears still flowing down her face.

  “Sarah, we will need warm water, two bowls, and towels. Do you know where to find it all?”

  The plan suddenly became clear to Sarah. She nodded and turned to leave.

  “Sarah, if you can, please make at least one towel warm.”

  “I’ll bring up the warm towel first.”

  As quickly as possible, Sarah heated the towel in a copper kettle over the fire in the kitchen, returned with it and then left to gather the rest of the supplies. The reason behind the need for this remedy wasn’t lost on her. She knew once again this stemmed from her selfish pride. If she hadn’t argued with Shannon, the girl wouldn’t have been injured, Wee Joseph wouldn’t be hungry, Samuel would have been able to climb on his mother’s lap, and Shannon wouldn’t be engorged and fighting infection.

  And Alain-Robert would still be alive.

  All due to selfishness and pride; her selfishness and pride.

  She didn’t deserve Joseph’s love.

  The weight of the truth nearly tripped her on the stairs. Hot water sloshed from the pitcher, burning her hand, and she gasped in physical and emotional pain.

  She set the pitcher on the next step before it dropped from her trembling fingers. Shaking her hand first, she blew on the burn. The pain, she realized came more from her heart than her skin.

  She wiped her hand across her skirt, picked up the pitcher and returned to the bedroom.

  * * *

  Sarah returned the bowls to the kitchen and stretched. There’d been no sleep the night before and no time to nap today. Surprisingly, her father said nothing about her staying. He hugged her before he left for home, saying he’d return in the afternoon.

  “Sarah, have you seen Mary Frances or Sarah Beth?” Robert stood damp and
soot-streaked in the kitchen doorway.

  It was the first thing she’d seen worth a smile in a very long time. “No, I’m sorry, Robert. I’m just down from the nursery myself. Can I help with anything?”

  “I’m off to clean up. Father wants me to ride for Glasgow, bring Gabriel home. He also requests something for him and James and Joseph to eat. That’s why I’m looking for Mary Frances or Sarah Beth.”

  “I’ll get the food. You get clean. I will leave you something on the sideboard.”

  Taking a quick look through the larder, Sarah found some bread, cheese, and smoked salmon. Large crockery bowls filled with vegetables and fruit sat in the pantry. A few carrots and pears and her basket was complete.

  Out the back door and to the barn, she saw no one. All the rakes lay propped up against stone walls.

  “What do you have there?”

  “Oh.” She nearly jumped out of her skin. Spinning around, she bumped into Joseph and dropped the basket, spilling the contents.

  “Here, let me help.” He reached for the same chunk of bread as she did, his hand brushing her fingers and sending a shock up her arm.

  Streaked in soot, his hair was coming loose from his ribbon. His shirt neckline lay open and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms. Strong and masculine, he quietly assisted her.

  Her voice fled. Biting her lip, she picked up the other things.

  Joseph gently took her arm, helping her to her feet.

  Her body began to tremble. Finally looking up, she found his gaze; a deep, sad gaze. Her heart broke.

  “Oh, Joseph.” She dropped the basket and threw her arms around his neck. His arms pulled her close. She gazed at his face. Pulling his head to her, she kissed him as she had always wanted.

  His arms wrapped tighter, and he kissed her the way she’d imagined he would. The way he had last night.