Page 29 of Brian and Cora
“The robbery and what followed wasn’t your fault.”
Andre tapped his forehead. “I know that here.” He put his hand over his heart. “But I feel different here. This whole week has been full of horror and guilt and shame. And the relief that everyone’s safe, and the outlaws are captured and the money isreturned is…indescribable. Yet when I think of Mr. Skold and Mr. Bly…their situation causes a pain.” He pressed his chest again.
When put that way, Hank couldn’t really protest.
The truth be told, as much as Hank knew Brian would hate, absolutely hate, what he’d see as an assault on his independence and solitude, perhaps even feeling betrayed by his collusion, he was so relieved and grateful his friend had survived that he felt just fine going along with Andre Bellaire.
Dressedin a new divided riding skirt made by Constance, buoyed by an emotional wave of enthusiasm, and accompanied by what seemed like half the town, Cora rode Ole Miss, a placid mare, up the trail to Three Bend Lake. In front and behind her, about twenty people rode or drove, with additional tools and building materials to add to those already brought yesterday by the men who started the building, as well as all the comforts the ladies of Sweetwater Springs deemed necessary.
Even the puppy Brian had purchased at the Harvest Festival rode in one of the wagons. Sassy Girl would stay with Hank tonight, and he’d bring her over in the morning. But first, he’d take her on a long walk to tire her out. Hopefully, then she’d be less likely to jump on Brian’s wounded leg in her excitement at being reunited with her new owner.
Brian—so she thought of him because Hank, Elsie, and Constance spoke of him by his first name—was her patient, not her friend. I really should get in the habit of addressing him as Mr. Bly, even in my thoughts. But everyone is so informal that not using his first name might be more offensive. Ugh! I’ll startwith Brian and see if he objects. He seems the type to flat-out protest if he disagrees.
Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, Cora couldn’t be sure, Aunt Rose and Uncle Andre were the two important people missing from the expedition. Worried about her father’s health, Delia conspired with Rose to keep Andre home by her aunt pretending a headache and suffering from exhaustion. Right now, she’d bet those two dear bookworms were probably comfortably discussing their favorite volumes. While she missed them, she also knew settling in would probably be easier without them.
In one of the wagons, a trunk from Dr. Cameron held medications, bandages, and the other items he deemed necessary for Brian’s recovery, as well as the medical journals he’d promised her. He’d gone over everything she needed to do, warning her that being on her own with a patient—an irascible one at that—was different from working with many professionals to oversee her in a well-supplied hospital. While a trip to town wasn’t out of the question, he preferred that she had what was needed.
From time to time, the narrow dirt road wound around the side of the mountain, opening up the view to Sweetwater Springs, looking like a toy village below. With aching inner thighs, she enviously eyed Delia and Reverend Joshua as they rode in the surrey, wishing for the comfort of seats instead of a saddle. But Uncle Andre insisted she have her own horse to stay with her, so she could go to town, if need be. Riding the mare, no matter how gentle, wasn’t the same as those pony rides she’d taken as a child.
The aches grew worse, and she tried to breathe into the pain, thinking longingly of rubbing the liniment from her medicine chest into her muscles and then sitting in the comfortablearmchair—one of two—lashed on top of the wagon carrying lumber. She’d sip a cup of tea and read a novel.
Far ahead, Cora saw the line of vehicles and horses veer to the right. “Not long now,” called people from up ahead, passing down the information. She partly turned and tossed the news to the rider behind her.
Ole Miss followed the one in front under a canopy of trees, until the trees opened up to a breathtaking view of a narrow body of water, reflecting the cerulean sky. A small, sandy beach edged by rocks and trees blocked the next bend of the lake.
The road took them past a log cabin, with a broad front porch and blue shutters flanking the windows—Hank’s home, as charming as Elsie described it. The road ran some thirty feet from the water, following the contours of the lake.
About twenty minutes later, they reached a second, bigger log cabin, brown shutters closed against the windows. Without mentioning a name, Hank had warned everyone that the inhabitant was a good person, but he lived like a hermit. He requested that the man’s reclusive nature be honored, even though he privately told Cora that he hoped his friend would venture out to meet her. He didn’t think it likely, though.
She imagined the reclusive neighbor to be like a turtle, pulled tightly into his shell. The boys Ivy tutored had a box turtle brought back from one of their vacations, and the little creature had fascinated Cora when she’d been invited to visit to make its acquaintance.
Still, as they slowly moved past, Cora couldn’t help casting curious glances at the home, wondering if the owner was elderly or disfigured or broken by the world. Each possibility called upon the part of her that wanted to help people heal. I’ll have to be careful if I accidentally come across him in the woods to not act dismayed by his appearance, lest he think myreaction is about how he looks rather than my being startled by encountering a stranger.
CHAPTER 10
Brian and Buck Skold sat propped up in Seth Flanigan’s wagon, resting on a thick bed of blanket-covered straw. Their geldings were tied to the back corners, and from time to time, when Brian glanced to check, Marshal gave him a look and head shake that said this whole rigmarole was beneath his horsely dignity.
Dr. Angus had insisted his two patients take some laudanum for the journey and, in spite of all Brian’s protestations that he didn’t want a foggy head, refused to back down, saying he wouldn’t authorize the trip to town and from there to their homes unless they took the pain medication. Buck had given in first, and after a grunt of frustration, so had Brian.
At first, the ride hadn’t been so bad. But then one hour passed. And the next. The interminable drive was made longer by Seth keeping his team to the pace of an earthworm, so as to avoid the worst of the ruts.
The closer they came to town and the effects of the medicine wore off, the more Brian’s leg ached. Sometimes, he had to hold in a groan or moan or gasp when the wagon wheels hit a rut and the jolt spiked pain across his wound. Any outward indication ofdiscomfort would have the wretched doctor, riding next to the wagon and casting frequent assessing glances their way, forcing more laudanum down his throat.
Even when his wound wasn’t stabbing him, the denim of his trousers rubbed against the heavy bandage around his thigh. He’d spent the last week wearing one of Seth Flanigan’s borrowed nightshirts, and he’d mulishly refused to travel to town unless dressed in his own clothing.
With a shake of his head and a look that told Brian he’d pay the price for his stubbornness, Dr. Angus had allowed him his way.
He suspected, from the way Buck sometimes clenched his hands, that he had similar struggles. The man wasn’t quite as stubborn as Brian, but then again, he didn’t need to be, seeming content to let Brian take the contrary lead and then fall into place behind him.
Just a few more hours until home. I can endure that much.
Before the corner where the road turned onto the main street of town, Hank and Elsie waited along with Constance Taylor. Beside them stood a group he didn’t know until a “whoop” from Buck told him they must be from the Thompson ranch—Samantha and Wyatt Thompson, their six children, and Buck’s fellow cowboys. He’d certainly heard enough about the ranch’s inhabitants from Buck during their recovery.
“Whoa.” Seth stopped the wagon.
Seemingly all talking at once, the Thompson bunch swarmed to Buck’s side of the wagon.
Dr. Angus pulled up his horse, Zeus, swung down from the saddle, thrust the reins into Brian’s hand, and held out his arms to his fiancée.
