Page 18 of A Groom for Millie
“Heather!” he yelled. He was winded by the time he reached the buggy. “Th-they need a doctor! Someone was shot.”
“A doctor?” Heather looked at Millie.
“You’re the closest thing we have to a doctor right now. Go!” Millie grabbed the reins from Heather. “I’ve got this.”
Heather reached over the back and grabbed her medical bag before following Mr. McFarland down to the water’s edge. Millie could see Heather climb onboard the ferry and head towards the coach. One of the boys followed her.
The second boy and the man tied off the ferry and disappeared behind the coach.
“What’s going on?” a soft voice asked.
Millie looked to see Linda Applebee standing next to the buggy. “I don’t know. The ferry just arrived and said they needed a doctor.”
“A doctor?” Linda furrowed her brow. “Whatever for?”
Millie bit her lower lip. “I don’t know. Mr. McFarland said someone was shot.”
“Shot?” Linda took off towards the shoreline. A man she had seen around town followed her. Millie thought he was a lawyer of some sort.
No one was coming off the ferry and apprehension filled Millie’s chest as she wondered where her mother could be. “Mary Rose, I want you to stay here,” she said leaning over the seat. “Stay under the blanket. I’ll be right back.”
“Alright, Momma,” Mary Rose said. She was playing with Mrs. Poppet. Cecily must have left her doll in the wagon. Millie made a mental note to mention something to Heather. Millie slid from underneath the warmth of the blanket and wrapped it around Mary Rose’s legs. Taking the reins, she tied the horse to the post at the corner of the livery. With a glance to make sure Mary Rose was still in the back of the buggy, she quickly weaved through the crowd to the water’s edge.
She spied the man she noticed earlier who was pulling the ferry with the two boys. He was leading a horse around the side of the coach. Millie noticed he was much taller now than she first thought. He wore a long brown wool jacket that brushed his knees along with dark pants. She couldn’t see his face, but his hair was dark and clipped close to his head. He looked up briefly, and Millie could see his eyes were the color of rich coffee. His skin was pale, which told Millie he wasn’t a cowboy. She wondered if he was a passenger on the coach. It was then she saw the blanket covering an object on the back of the horse.
A body was draped over the saddle with an arm peeking out from beneath the blanket. Murmurs went through the crowd. The man led the horse off the ferry and up the slight incline to the main road. “Where’s your sheriff?” he asked the crowd.
Linda and her lawyer friend moved forward. “He’s dead,” Linda offered. “I’m his widow.” She pointed to the bundle on the back of the horse. “What happened.”
“Here’s your stage driver. He was shot in the back by outlaws.”
“Outlaws!” The cry went through the crowd. People looked left and right, and even across the river, as though they expected danger to pop out from behind the bushes.
Millie’s hands began to tremble. Her mother was supposed to be on the coach. She rocked slightly on her heels trying to suppress nausea that was climbing to her throat. They wouldn’t need a doctor for a dead body. That meant Heather was treating someone else on the stage.Someone alive and in need of care.
“Were there any other passengers on the stage?” Millie pushed her way through the crowd.
The man stopped and looked at her. His eyes went wide, and Millie took a step back. She could see that his eyes weren’t deep brown, but instead the color of rich whiskey. He had thin lips and a strong cleft chin. His face was covered in stubble and it gave him a rugged appearance, despite his fine clothing.
Mille raised her hand to her chest and fiddled with the button on her coat, willing herself to remember to breathe. There was something dangerous about the man in front of her. Millie felt her palms perspire inside her kid gloves.
Relax, Millie, she thought to herself.You are simply overreacting.
She shifted from foot to foot under the man’s gaze and gave a little shriek when Linda put her hand on Millie’s arm.
“What happened to Cletus?” Linda asked.
“I’ll let his son tell the story,” the man said, perusing the crowd, allowing his eyes to fall back on Millie.
“Son?” Linda moved out of the way to allow the man and beast to pass. “I didn’t know he had a son.”
The stranger pointed back to the ferry and the young boy with pecan skin waiting on the water’s edge.
“Where’s the undertaker?” he asked Millie. The man’s rich voice washed over her. He had an accent; she just couldn’t place it.
“Right up the road,” Millie said, pointing. “Continue on Stagecoach Road, and he’s about three buildings down.”
The man nodded and continued towards the undertaker. He was followed by Mr. McFarland and the man that was with Linda.
