Page 138 of Winterset
As soon as we were safely stowed in the carriage, she cradled me in her arms, and we started swiftly back to Summerhaven.
“Stay with me,” Kate pleaded.
I fought for consciousness, but what happened next came in fits and flashes, like a fever dream.
A sway.
A sudden stop.
Summerhaven.
A surgeon.
Something being poured into my mouth.
A sharp stinging in my arm.
And then sleep.
Kate
All through the night, Isat by Oliver’s bedside.
He’d been shot in the shoulder, and although the wound had bled profusely, the surgeon had said his injury wasn’t fatal. Oliver had lost consciousness in the carriage, not due to loss of blood but due to shock. Seventeen stitches later, the doctor predicted Oliver should make a full recovery.
Last night, I had not been so certain though.
I hadn’t known right away that Oliver had been injured. I’d heard the gunfire, of course, but Oliver had sat up and fired his own pistol. I’d thought he was all right. I hadn’t known he wasn’t until I’d seen the blood.
So much blood.
Red had stained the right side of his shirt, but I hadn’t been able to tell where it was coming from. His chest? His abdomen? His shoulder? The shocking sight had scared me, and suddenly, I’d been transported back two years to the morning of Papa’s death, standing at his bedside, saying goodbye.
It was breaking morning now, and I was once again sitting at a man’s bedside, but this time he would live.
Through the long, predawn hours Oliver’s breaths were still quite shallow, and he was so still it scared me. But as the sun rose, his breathing grew stronger, until it was finally steady and sure.
Lord Jennings stepped into the room, startling me. “Did you sleep?” he whispered.
I shook my head.
“I can take a turn watching over him,” he offered.
“Thank you, but I want to be here when he wakes.” Surely the laudanum would wear off soon.
“Of course,” Lord Jennings said. “May I sit with you a moment?”
I nodded, and he took the seat on the other side of Oliver’s bed.
Last night, I’d learned that Lord Jennings had ridden out with Oliver to find me. At a fork in the road, they’d had to separate, but when Lord Jennings had heard shots fired, he’d started back for us. He’d found Markham lying on the road. The shot Oliver had fired in my defense had indeed been lethal.
I was finally and fully safe. Thanks to Oliver.
“He looks better this morning,” Lord Jennings said quietly. “More color in his cheeks.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But I’m still scared.” Oliver had survived the shot, but now there was the threat of infection to worry about.
“He will be all right,” Lord Jennings said. “Oliver is quite stubborn, you see, and I daresay he would not give up a life with you even if the devil demanded it.”
