“Interesting,” He inclined his head. “I believe I’ll head out now ma’am. I’ll be back out soon to speak to your husband.”
As the lawman loosened his horse, Evie walked away without another word, and ducked back inside. She scooted around Dr. Black and moved to Ben’s side. He rested, eyes closed. She leaned down, brushed a damp lock of hair off his sweaty forehead.
“Is he going to be okay?” Her gaze went to the man next to her in the midst of drying his hands.
Dr. Black gave her a kind smile and prompted, “I need some wide strips to bind his ribs.” He waited until she moved to the table and started to cut the sheet before he continued. “I’ve stitched up the knife wound.” With swift, sure motions, he took the cloth from her and worked it around Ben. “He’ll likely have a nasty headache given the size of that goose egg and these ribs will take a while to heal.”
His neutral tone and carefully chosen words didn’t escape her notice. Evie put the scissors down, watched him finish the binding with her arms hugged around her waist. “So you think he’ll be okay?”
“As long as that shoulder doesn’t get infected, yes.”
Dread settled in her gut. Her mouth dry, she didn’t speak for a moment. She inched closer. “Is that likely?”
“All we can do now is pray.” His gaze held compassion.
“I will,” Evie moved back to the bedside. Her hand touched Ben’s arm for needed contact, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” The doctor started to repack his bag.
“What do I owe you?”
“It’s late. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on him.”
“But-”
He patted her hand. “We’ll settle up then.”
“All right,” she didn’t have the heart to protest further.
“The best thing for him is sleep.” Dr. Black shrugged into a light jacket and donned a narrow brimmed hat. He gestured to the bottle still covered with bits of flour. “If he wakes up in too much pain, give him more.”
Evie walked him to the door. The control she’d held so tight threatened to fall apart. Emotion inexplicable, tears gathered. She exhaled a shaky breath. “He could’ve died.”
“But he didn’t.” Gentle fingers cupped her chin, tilted her face up so Evie looked into his eyes. “The best thing you can do for Ben now is get some rest. You need it.”
“I will.”
Without another word, the doctor left. Evie sank down in the chair beside the bed. Weary, she laid her head down, rested her cheek on Ben’s arm. Her eyes drifted shut. Sometime later a touch on her hair startled her awake.
“Doll.”
“Ben?” She lifted her head and opened her eyes to look at him. At first, he didn’t respond. His eyes still closed, she thought perhaps he’d fallen back asleep.
“Hurts.”
“What hurts?”
“Head. Side. Shoulder. Everything.”
Evie pushed up her feet, poured some liquor in a cup. She slid an arm under his shoulders and helped him up enough so that he could drink. He never opened his eyes or spoke again. She settled Ben back down then eased away from him. His breathing deepened, in minutes it was clear he slept.
Unable to go straight back to sleep herself, Evie moved around the room, restless. She threw his stained clothing and towels in a basket then pushed it under the bed. Exhausted, her head throbbed. She started to clear the table and swayed. One hand reached out, pressed against the wood surface and steadied her. After a moment, she trudged back to Ben’s side, resigned to sleep again in the chair.
The night seemed endless. Every time her husband made a sound, Evie jerked awake, fear clawing her heart. It took long moments to calm each time. When morning arrived at last, she felt worse than the night before.
Her eyes burned. Muscles stiff and aching, Evie stumbled through chores then returned, collapsed onto her chair. Hours passed. Her hair went uncombed, face unwashed, dress unchanged, she did nothing but sit by Ben who mostly slept until the doctor arrived around noon.
As Dr. Black checked her husband over, he woke for more than a moment.
“What happened?”
Evie leaned close, spoke soft. “You were attacked.”
“I was,” Discomfort clear, he responded with effort. His eyes closed. For a second she thought Ben had fallen asleep yet again then he spoke. “Who? Why?”
“I was hoping you’d tell us.”
“I don’t know. Sorry,” he took a breath, “So I’m at your home.”
“Our home.”
“Our home?” His eyes opened. He turned his head to look straight at her, brow furrowed.
A childhood memory of a man who’d fallen from a horse stirred and concern filled her. “Do you know who you are?”
“You called me Ben,” He took an audible breath. “But my full name is Benjamin, Benjamin James Rolfe.”
“Thank God,” Relief cascaded through her.
Swollen lips attempted to form a smile. “So what’s your name sweet lady?”
A shiver went down her spine. His words pierced her bubble of cheer. Unease crept over her. She stared at him for a full moment, “That’s not funny.”
“Not trying to be.”
“It’s all right,” Dr. Black inserted. Evie started, she’d forgotten his presence. His low tone a clear attempt to soothe, the doctor continued. “Go ahead tell him your name.”
“Evie, I’m … Evie.”
“That’s a right pretty name,” his words slurred.
“So you said the first time you heard it,” She muttered but her words went unheard. He’d fallen asleep again. Evie turned her gaze on the doctor. His somber expression didn’t comfort her. “Is it normal to sleep like that?”
The doctor nodded. “His body needs the rest.”
“Okay,” Evie accepted that easily and moved on to the question that burned inside her. “Why doesn’t Ben know me?”
“Well, head injuries can rattle a person for a time.”
Worry sharpened her tone, “There was a man where I grew up who forgot everything, everyone, had to learn to dress and eat again like a baby. Is that what’s happening to Ben?”
“I’ve heard of such cases,” Dr. Black took her hand, patted it with his other one. “But Ben knows who he is and that’s a good sign. Give him time, let him recover.”
“Then you think he’ll remember me?”
“Likely.”
“If he doesn’t?”
“Let’s not borrow trouble. Wait a few days, see how he does,” He squeezed her hand then released her, stepped back.
Dr. Black turned to the table, snapped his bag shut. Evie walked him outside. He waited by his buggy while she fetched a small bag of dried apples and a crated chicken.
“Would these cover what we owe you?”
“It’ll do,” The doctor accepted the offering. “I’ll be back out to check on Ben tomorrow.”
Arms crossed at her waist, Evie watched him set what she’d given behind the black leather seat. He climbed in, snapped the reigns and drove off. Her shoulders slumped. Alone and solely responsible for Ben, she felt weighed down with worry.
Evie went back to the cabin on leaden feet. Once satisfied, her husband rested easy so she sat down, closed her eyes and yet minutes later remained wide-awake. Though far past tired, she couldn’t settle down. She got up and changed into a clean dress of blue calico, tidied the room, fussed with Ben’s blankets then reached down, pulled out the laundry basket.
After she propped the door open, Evie carried the clothes outside. She soon had water boiling in a large pot hung above a fire and tossed in the stained items. The hot, unpleasant job took up a good portion of her afternoon. She yawned often as she hung the last of the laundry up to dry. The sound of a moan floated out of the cabin while Evie kicked dirt on the fire. She hurried inside straight to her husband, “Are you all right?”
“Could I have some water?” he rasped.
“Of course,” She filled a mug from the
kettle and returned.
His hands shook as he took it from her, which sloshed the lukewarm water over his fingers. Evie put her hands over his to steady them. Ben raised his head, took in a few long sips then pale, shaking, laid back.
“Thank you Evie.”
Tense, hopeful, worried, she hesitated a second then took the mug from his slack grip, put it down on the dresser. Her voice calm, level, “You remember me?”
Ben cleared his throat yet his voice emerged husky. “Of course, you’re the pretty lady who’s taking care of me.”
“So you don’t know who I am?”
“Other than your name, no,” he paused a moment, coughed, then continued in a soft, forced tone. “But I’m guessing I should.”
Evie couldn’t keep the words inside, “I’m your wife.”
“Oh,” He closed his eyes, exhaustion obvious, his words slurred. “That’s … ”
Ben drifted off again. Evie stomped her foot so frustrated she wanted to scream. She needed him to stay awake more than a blessed minute and talk to her. Her fingers tangled with his as she sank down on the rocker. Tears filled her eyes then spilled over, trailed down heated cheeks. She needed him.
The remainder of the day passed in the same manner. When Ben stirred, they would exchange a few meaningless words. Evie gave him more sips of water and late in the evening, she managed to coax some broth into him. By the end of the very long day, little had changed.
The need for sleep at last overcame her shortly after dark and Evie nodded off in her chair. A glancing blow to her upper arm woke her some time later. She opened her eyes. In the low, flickering light from the dying lamp Ben flailed, not wildly but with soft jerks as if in his dreams, he fought.
“Ben,” She leaned over, captured an arm and held it to the mattress. Her tone low, pitched to comfort, “Ben, wake up.”
Her husband quieted but didn’t respond. Still weary Evie started to relax then what she felt sank in. Heat radiated from his skin. Panicked she jumped up, grabbed the pail and dashed down to the creek without pausing to take the lamp. She stubbed her toes, snagged her dress on a thorny brush and almost fell into the running water but the terror that so often paralyzed her in the dark simply didn’t register. She filled her bucket and hurried back.
Through the night, Evie soaked rags in the cold water then applied them to his heated forehead. His skin never stayed cool long before it burned again. Every so often Ben would mutter gibberish then thrash about until she soothed him.
Her back ached fierce by morning light. Evie straightened away from the bed with her hands pressed hard against the base of her spine. She yawned so wide and long her jaw hurt. Noise penetrated her fog of exhaustion. She went to the window and peeked through the curtains. The little black buggy was a most welcome sight. She stumbled over to the door, eager to let the doctor inside.
After a quick exchange of information, Evie let Dr. Black take over Ben’s care. On the verge of collapse, she pulled her rocker across the room out of the way. She sat down, leaned her head against the high back, closed her eyes and slept.
The next few days passed in a blur. Evie rested whenever Dr. Black was there. Naps at odds hours became routine. At the end of the week, a touch on her shoulder woke her from one. She blinked up at the tall man for a moment until her wits gathered.
“Sheriff Green,” Evie sat up straight, pushed her hair out of her face. “Do you have news?”
“Well Doc just said he believes the fever broke.”
She sagged back against the chair, “Thank God.”
“I came out to speak to Ben. Clearly he’s in no condition for that now but … ”
An uneasy feeling knotted her stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“Perhaps we should talk privately?”
“All right,” Evie glanced over at the man who sat next to the bed and looked almost as tired as she felt. “I need to step outside with the sheriff for a moment.”
Dr. Black acknowledged her words with a nod. She stood and led the sheriff outside. Her gaze swept the area as she emerged from the cabin. Near the barn, by some scrawny oaks, a patch of red caught her interest. She watched the fox creep out of the shadows then disappear into tall grass until Sheriff Green moved in front of her.
“Ma’am you’re aware your husband has … irritated folks?”
Evie could barely contain an unladylike snort. She arched an eyebrow. Her tone dry as late fall leaves, “yes.”
“In the time you’ve lived here he’s made questionable deals, caused trouble in town drinking and brawling and there’s more than one accusation of cheating.”
“Your point?” Her voice taut, lowered to just above a whisper. That his words were true made them no less difficult to hear. “Are you trying to say Ben deserved what happened?”
“No ma’am, I’m warning you some might see it that way.”
“Who? The person who hurt him? Do you know who did it?”
“I’m holding the men Talbert fired. They were overheard celebrating that your husband was hurt and they had his horse.”
“So you arrested them?”
“I did. They started a fight, tore up the saloon. Those are the charges I’m holding them on.”
Evie shook her head, confused. “Not for attacking Ben?”
“I’ve no proof of that.”
“But you just said-”
“It’s not a crime to be happy a man got beat up.”
“But,” with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she tried again to protest. “They-”
“All swear they had nothing to do with it.”
“They had his horse,” She enunciated each word with force.
“They claim they found it wondering loose, knew the mare belonged to you and were going to return it.”
Heat burned across her cheeks. “So you’ll do nothing.”
“Not much I can do ma’am. I rode out here hoping Ben could tell me something, some detail that might help but-”
“Dr. Black told you Ben might not remember.” Her hands twisted together. A band tightened around her chest.
“I hope for your sake he does.”
Wearing a calm mask, she met his gaze, “Why?”
“I can’t hold those boys long and I’ve heard ugly rumors.”
She stiffened, “Rumors?”
“Those boys are locals, they grew up here.”
“And we’ve been a here a few years.”
The sheriff nodded, “Word about the Talbert boy has gotten around. There’s not a whole lot of sympathy for your husband’s injuries. In fact there’s some anger directed at him still.”
“I see,” Her stomach rolled.
“Ma’am I’ll do my best but I’m only one man.” His serious tone, the concern in his gaze, slammed his message home. The neighbors likely wouldn’t help if someone decided to hurt Ben again and the sheriff couldn’t protect him.
“I understand,” Her hands clasped tight together, “Anything else? I should get back to my husband.”
Sheriff Green studied her for a tense moment. “I brought your horse back. She’s in the barn.”
“Thank you.”
“I checked the saddlebags. They were empty. Did Ben have anything of value?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Dr. Black strolled from the cabin. “I need to get going.”
“Of course,” Evie managed a stiff smile, “thank you.”
Without waiting to see either man off, she stepped into the open doorway. Evie paused there. Her fingers gripped the wood frame hard. The sound of hooves and wheels faded as she stood, stared at Ben who slept yet again. Her head bowed. Worn out, she felt alone, abandoned.
A surge of fury suddenly crashed over logic. Her chin lifted and she glared at her husband. Evie stomped across the room, snatched up a pot, set it down hard on the table. A quick glance showed Ben undisturbed. I’m tired of understanding.
Lips tight, Evie shook her head. Being patient. She put chicken b
roth and dried vegetables in the pot then hung it over the fire on a hook Ben had fashioned. Feeling alone in the same room. Her actions jerky, she pulled a small crock of butter off a shelf then opened the towel wrapped around the half loaf of bread.
Her hands shook as she made sandwiches. Movements slowed. Tears fell.
Evie looked over at Ben. Hair fell untidy across his forehead, his face a patchwork of charcoal smudges, a few more colorful bruises and pallid skin. I almost lost you.
Drained she made no effort to wipe her cheeks. Slowly she moved her chair back next to the bed. She grabbed a sandwich, poured a mug of coffee and sat down. Without enthusiasm, she washed her food down with bitter liquid. When she finished, Evie reached out and touched his chest.
Her fingers lingered, moved in a soft caress. A dark brown mat of hair spread out over his upper body until it disappeared beneath his bound ribs. Evie laid her palm flat on his lower belly a moment then pulled back. Sadness whispered. She’d all but forgotten how it felt to touch him. She stared at the dregs of her coffee, and rocked herself for comfort.
Ben cleared his throat. The young woman didn’t respond, just kept rocking. He cleared his throat again, louder. She stilled a second then faced him, her expression a polite mask.
“Good afternoon.”
Though pain tugged at him, Ben studied her, curious about the stranger who claimed to be his wife. Hair black as night tumbled from a haphazard braid to fall about a pretty face with even features dominated by eyes an intriguing sky blue. With sun kissed golden skin and a strong yet gently curved body, she was exactly his type of woman.
“Is it? I feel weak as a kitten.”
“You’ve had a rough few days,” Her voice had a low husky quality. “Are you hurting?”
His head pounded, his whole body ached and any deep breath brought pure misery, “Oh yeah.”
“I can get you some-”
“Not now thank you … Evie … is that right?”
A flash of emotion disturbed her expression, “yes.”
“And … did you say you’re my wife?”
Lori Connelly Page 4