“Jake.”
He opened blood-shot eyes to her. “I’m not feeling so good, Juliette.” His voice sounded funny, like one with a bad cold.
Without thought of convention niceties, her hand swooped to the sheet, uncovering his leg. She clutched her throat to keep the fear from choking her. Red lines streaked up his leg all the way past his knee, where the nightshirt cut off her view. But she didn’t have to see anymore to know the wound was infected.
She backed out of the room and raced to the back door. “Thad, saddle up Big Red. You have to get the doctor here quickly. Jake is worse.”
Thad dropped the hammer and jogged to her. “He was all right this morning.”
She swiped a gnat out of her eyes. “He isn’t now. His leg is infected and he has a high fever. Tell the doctor that…and get going.”
Waiting only long enough to watch him dash toward the barn, she retraced her steps to Jake’s bedside. He hadn’t moved, and she resisted the urge to touch his hot head again. “Thad is going for the doctor, but I have to get this fever down.” She tried to make it sound as easy as mending a sock.
He licked his chapped lips. “Wait. Stop Thad. I have to send a telegram.”
Her urge to make haste warred with the need to comply. “To your boss?”
“Yes, his address is—”
“I know where it is.” She went to his saddlebag and pulled out the envelope and, not wanting to take the time to fetch paper, tore a piece off the letter it contained. A pencil lay on the bureau top. She grabbed this, and poised it over the scrap of paper. “What do you want to say?”
He coughed and gulped in several short breaths. “Pray.”
The word sent a dart straight into her heart. She swallowed and wrote, her fingers trembling, “Jake’s worse. Pray.”
Catching sight of Thad out the window, she rushed to it, pushing aside the curtain and leaning out. “Thad, Jake wants you to send a telegram.” She waved the envelope in her outstretched hand.
Caught in the process of mounting, Thad fell back to the ground and dragged the horse behind him.
Juliette pushed the envelope into his hand. “The message is inside, the address on the outside. Go quickly, and God’s speed.”
She crossed the short distance to Jake’s bed. “We don’t have any ice, but the spring is ice cold. I’ll go get a bucket.”
“Juliette, don’t leave me.”
The pleading in his eyes tore her heart. “I won’t leave you, Jake.” She forced her lips into a smile as she walked backward to the doorway. Don’t let him hear the panic in your voice. He must believe he’ll be all right. “Give me just one moment.”
She’d just have to get Miss Lydee to bring her some well water, but to Juliette’s way of thinking the ice-cold water from the deep spring would cool Jake’s fever faster. If only Corky hadn’t gone to pick up his pay.
From around the corner of the hall she caught sight of Annie, sweeping the parlor. That girl knew the woods better than she knew the barn where she loved to hide out. “Annie, I need you.”
For once, Annie made haste, probably because she was tired of sweeping. “Annie, I want you to get me some water from the boil. The bucket is on the back porch. No, there are two buckets. Take both and fill each half full. That way they’ll be easier to carry. Don’t dawdle. I want that water within ten minutes.
Annie sent a fugitive glance inside the sickroom, then nodded and scampered past, almost colliding with Miss Lydee.
“Is there anything I can do, dear?” Miss Lydee asked.
“Yes, bring me the sponge, please.”
She returned to Jake’s side. He must have heard the interchange with Annie and Miss Lydee, but she explained anyway. “When I get the cold water, I’ll sponge you off and you’ll feel much better.”
He inclined his head and pointed to a place beyond her.
“You want something?” She sent a glance in the direction he indicated, and saw nothing but his saddlebag resting in the corner. “You need something from your saddlebag?”
***
A fire raged within him. It licked his body from his injured leg to his head and gathered behind his eyes where it seemed to flare from him. He might as well be lying on a funeral pyre, being cremated.
Only by keeping his focus on Juliette could he release some of the heat. She held the saddlebag to her middle, and the pulse in the holler of her throat jumped frantically, whether from exertion of carrying the bag or sheer fright, he didn’t know.
His gaze stayed on her creamy neck, and he knew he’d made the right decision.
She opened the leather flap, and her eyes questioned him. “What should I look for?”
He moved his head slowly from side to side, having learned that shaking it intensified the pain. One shaky hand reached for the bag, and she put it beside him. He clenched the side of the bag with one hand, and the other slipped into the depths of the saddlebag. She wouldn’t know where to look, and he could feel for it better than seeing it.
His fingers slid along the inside until they touched the secret hiding place at the bottom. Prying the seams open, he felt the many folded paper he sought. He pinched it with his pointer and thumb and slowly drew it clear of the bag.
Drawing a deep breath, he willed the strength to continue. His heart beat way too fast.
Juliette took the bag and dropped it to the floor. She stood waiting.
He exhaled and filled his lungs again, then brought the wadded paper, yellowed with age, to his chest and began to unfold it. A spark of metal showed first, then turquoise. He flicked the paper aside and held the locket so she could see it.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“It’s the only thing I have left of my ma. I want you to have it.”
She took a step back, surprise filling her features. “It’s much too valuable, Jake.”
He rested the locket in his palm. “It’s not so valuable. There’s probably not over fifty cents of gold in the whole thing, but it means a lot to me.” It was getting harder to bring enough air into his lungs to continue speaking. “It’s been lying…in that bag…a long time. Just…waiting for you.” The locket trembled in his shaking hand.
Indecision flickered in her eyes before they filled with tears. “It would be an honor to wear such a treasure…and—” Her voice quavered. “I’ll wear it as long as you want me to.” She took the locket reverently.
“That would be…always. I knew as soon…as I saw you, it belonged around your neck.”
Moisture hovered in her lashes as she lifted the thin chain over her head. The locket, made in an era when women wore dresses with lower necklines, rested below her neck at the top of the valley between her breasts.
She lifted blue eyes, a shades darker than the locket’s stone. “Thank you.”
The light hurt his eyes, but he had to keep her in sight. Rays from the lowering sun streamed through the window and cast an aura around her. Time stood still. It had been less than a week since they’d met, but it seemed they’d known each other much longer than this short time. Like from the beginning. Before God had created their souls.
I knew you before you were formed in your mother’s womb, God told Jacob. He hadn’t read that. Someone had quoted the verse to him sometime in the past—Rhyan maybe, probably Carianne. Strange how he could hear words spoken long ago, and they would take root in his spirit years later.
If that verse was true—and he now believed it was so—then he could believe he’d known Juliette from the other side of the womb, and they would know each other for eternity.
Abruptly, another presence broke the spell, and he noticed Miss Lydee standing in the doorway. Juliette turned in the direction of his gaze.
“Here’s the sponge you asked for, and I heard Annie coming up the steps.”
Juliette reached to touch his arm. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get that fever down, and you’ll feel much better.”
How he wished she could do just that, but
she didn’t know how much he hurt. How weak he felt. How close to death. He wasn’t afraid to die. He’d made his peace with God.
But he didn’t want to die, not now when he had so much to live for.
Chapter 9
The ice cold water froze Juliette’s fingers as she dipped the sponge over and over and gently glided it over Jake’s face and neck. She could almost see a steam rising as the cold water made contact with his hot skin. Yet, it didn’t seem the source of the fire could be abated.
“That feels so good.” Jake’s voice was so low and cracked, she had to lean forward to hear.
She swapped from one hand to the other until both arms began to ache. It didn’t matter. As long as it brought him some relief, she’d keep it up.
If only she could reach his chest. The nightshirt had only one button, at the top. Despite the urgency, she couldn’t pull it off, even taking care not to expose his lower body.
Catching sight of the scissors on top of the bureau, she dropped the sponge in the pail and crossed the floor to fetch them.
“Juliette.” Jake stopped her in mid-step. “Don’t leave me.”
She returned to his side. “I’m not going to leave you, Jake. Just going across the room for something. I promise I’ll never leave you as long as you need me. Just close your eyes.” The way he squinted, she knew the light hurt his eyes.
On her way to the bureau, she yanked the curtains closed. She opened the top drawer and found a soft washcloth. With both cloth and scissors, she retraced her steps to the bed.
Without even asking permission, she cut the nightshirt far enough to expose his heaving chest. She dipped and squeezed the washcloth and stroked his chest, looking for signs of red streaking. Surely it wouldn’t extend this far up. There was none, but the skin appeared dark red—sunburned. Maybe it was a trick of the light, his skin made darker by the hair on his chest. At least, she told herself that.
The taunt muscles of his shoulders were definitely lighter than his neck as was common for men who worked outdoors. The doctor had said Jake was a healthy young man—hopefully, strong enough to fight off infection.
“Talk to me, Juliette. I love hearing your voice.”
She’d been so full of worry, she hadn’t noticed the silence. What to talk about? Her glance roved the room for inspiration and caught sight of Miss Lydee through the slit in the window curtains. The dear lady stooped as she walked from the garden, burdened by the large basket of tomatoes she carried.
So the tomatoes had ripened. She wouldn’t be able to eat a bite of them, nor did she want any of her family to eat them. Miss Lydee could take the whole batch with her.
“I don’t know what I’d do without Miss Lydee’s help. I could amuse you with some of the stories she’s told me.”
“Anything.”
She knew it hurt him to speak, so she rinsed the washcloth and pressed it to his throat. “Miss Lydee and Miss Maybelle, her sister, grew up in Macon where their parents ran a boardinghouse. Miss Maybelle fell in love with a gentleman—I forget his name—from Texas. He was visiting relatives in the area, but extended his stay. Mr. O’Grady, her father, had given his blessings for them to be married, and her suitor returned to Texas to prepare their house.”
After refreshing the washcloth, she continued the tale. “The story is, Miss Maybelle wished to marry right away and return with him, but Miss Lydee had a premonition that she shouldn’t go, and anyway, her fiancé wished to fix up his house before he brought his bride there.”
How fast the cloth dried out. She rewet it before picking up the story. “Sadly, the gentleman was set upon by robbers in Louisiana and killed.”
Juliette stroked Jake’s hair back as she tried to recall how Miss Lydee told the story. “For years, Miss Maybelle declared she’d rather have gone with her beloved even if it meant they would die together. Then Miss Lydee was smitten by a handsome army officer. This was right before the war and Miss Lydee was over thirty years old, a confirmed old maid.”
She checked Jake’s pulse and convinced herself it had slowed a little. “Then the war happened, and her soldier went away, but during the early years when it looked like the South would win, she kept up a correspondence and promised to wait for him.
“Miss Maybelle and Miss Lydee went for an extended visit to their cousin, and, of course, Miss Lydee shared her feelings for her soldier, who was now a colonel, with Hester, the cousin. She later discovered that Hester started corresponding with the colonel.”
“That was underhanded,” Jake said, and his voice sounded stronger to her.
“Yes, Hester stole Miss Lydee’s intended from her.” She wet and wrung out the cloth and returned it to his face. “But he was killed at the end of the war. Miss Lydee says she’s forgiven Hester, but is still uncomfortable in her presence, so she rarely visits and makes herself scarce when Hester comes to visit.”
“I can understand that, but she sounds like a happy soul all the same.”
“Oh, yes, both Miss Lydee and Miss Maybelle are jovial spirits. Each is constantly joking about finding a beau for the other.” Juliette allowed a small bubble of laugher to burst forth. “They moved to Abbeville about fifteen years ago and opened their café. If you will believe it, they run the jail which is in back of their house.”
“Thad told me, but I thought he must be joking.”
“No, it’s true. The sheriff actually runs the jail, but there is a back entrance to the cells, which have slits under the bars for the ladies to slide in the prisoners’ meals. They use the occasion to preach to the inmates in an effort to save them. And with great success, I’ve heard.”
Jake’s chuckle sounded hoarse but stronger. “I’ll have to recommend that to our sheriff. We’ve had some prisoners who needed saving.”
“They don’t have to be in jail for that. Are you feeling a little better?”
“A little cooler. Could I have another dose of laudanum? I think I could sleep.”
She pressed her palm to his forehead to confirm he was indeed a little cooler. “Of course. And could you eat a little broth off Miss Lydee’s vegetable soup?”
He twisted his mouth into an exaggerated frown. “Not now.”
“All right, but you’ll have to sip a little water.”
As she started to turn, he grabbed her hand. “Just don’t get off too far.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
The laudanum took effect, and Jake drifted off into a fitful sleep. Juliette kept sponging his face and chest until the ice-cold water in both buckets was lukewarm.
When the doctor arrived, she left to help Miss Lydee and Annie.
Miss Lydee pointed with her long wooden spoon. “I’ve blanched the okra and tomatoes together in that pot. If they’re canned together, they can be used for all those New Orleans dishes that are so good.”
“I’ll fill the jars so you can get supper started.” Juliette took the apron hanging on the back of a chair.
“Do you think Jake will be able to eat any supper?” Miss Lydee asked.
Juliette shook her head. “No.” Before she’d taken a step, a sob choked her. She grabbed onto the chair’s back and gave vent to emotions she’d guarded so carefully. “Oh, Miss Lydee, he’s so sick. I’ve never seen anyone that sick, not even Pa when he died.”
Her sobs startled Annie who sat at the end of the table shelling peas. She looked up with a worried look on her face. Juliette wondered what thoughts lay trapped in her sister’s mind—tormenting her. Holding her prisoner.
Miss Lydee rushed to Juliette’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know, my dear. I pray without ceasing for that poor young man and for you. It can’t be easy on you.”
The motherly comfort broke the dam of Juliette’s pent-up emotions, and her tears gushed as Miss Lydee patted her back.
Knowing how useless tears were, Juliette moved back a half step, and Miss Lydee’s glance went to her neck. “That’s a beautiful locket. I don’t believe I’ve seen it before
.”
“It was Jake’s mother’s. He wanted me to wear it.”
“Have you heard from his folks?”
“I don’t think he has any folks except for his employers, and they’ve been notified.”
“Then you’ve done all you can do, dear. We’ll have to wait and see what the doctor says.”
“I know.” Juliette sniffed. “I’ll finish the canning while you start supper.”
She figured Dr. Kane would be with Jake a long time. However, barely thirty minutes had passed when she heard the sickroom door closing, and the good doctor stuck his head in and beckoned her. His grim expression knocked her heart into her stomach.
“There’s nothing else to be done. At the moment, he’s holding his own.”
What did he mean, nothing else? “If he has gangrene, can’t you amputate and stop the poison?” They’d waited too long to amputate Pa’s leg and he’d died.
“As you know, he refuses to have his leg taken.”
“But he’s out of his head. Can’t you take it anyway? To save his life?”
Dr. Kane shook his head sadly. “No, my dear. The patient’s wishes must always be respected. It’s his life, after all.”
“Maybe if I asked him to change his mind. Would amputation save his life?”
“My honest opinion is—no. The wound shows no sign of gangrene. However, the blood poisoning is all over his body by now.” He laid a kindly hand on her shoulder. “He is an otherwise strong, healthy young man and might fight it off, especially with your exceptional nursing. Continue giving him the tonics and laudanum as I’ve prescribed. And pray for a miracle. I’ve seen enough miracles in my practice never to give anyone up for dead.”
He put the black derby on his head and started to turn. “Send Thad for me when his fever breaks—and try to keep your faith showing, my dear. He can sense despair.” A small smile lifted the edges of his moustache. “Above all, he needs to keep up the faith to continue fighting.”
Chapter 10
He was in a pit with steam shooting from the bottomless crevasse. Last year Jake had visited the geysers of the Wyoming parkland. The craters were safe to approach unless they were spewing, but he’d wondered what would happen if one fell in. Now he knew.
Escaped (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 4) Page 7