Consider the Lilies (Wyldhaven Book 4) Page 4

  As she hurried from the room with the bowl of hot broth held carefully in her hands, she could feel Wash’s gaze drilling into her back.

  Pa lay against his pillows, the gray cast of his skin making him look even more sickly than the dots of moisture on his forehead already indicated. He smiled at her weakly. “There’s my girl.” His words were barely audible.

  “Hi, Pa. I’ve got some soup for you.” She set the bowl on the bedside table and tried not to notice how Ma’s hands trembled as she sprinkled some of the powder into a spoonful of broth.

  Zoe dropped one hand against Ma’s shoulder. “I’ll go check on the twins and Aidan.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  Zoe heard Ma coaxing Pa to take the medicine, as she left the room and headed down the hall to check on her siblings. Aidan lay sound asleep with his blond hair tousled against his pillow. But when she poked her head into the girls’ room, Sharon quickly thrust something under her covers.

  Thankfully, Shiloh was breathing deeply on her side of the room.

  Zoe tilted Sharon a look and held out her hand. “You have to leave for school first thing. You know Ma wants you to be asleep by this time. Besides, trying to read in the moonlight isn’t good for your eyes.”

  Sharon gave a sigh of resignation and withdrew her book from beneath the covers. “I’ll never sleep without knowing what happens to her!”

  Zoe pressed her lips together as she took in the gilded letters of the book’s title. Tess of the D’Urbervilles. “Where did you get this? Does Mother know you are reading this?” Mother surely wouldn’t approve of such trash. But then... Zoe’s lips quirked. She herself had read the book. She smoothed a hand over Sharon’s hair. “What part are you at?”

  “They are at Stonehenge. Tess is sleeping and the law just arrived.”

  Right at the end then. But still in the part where there was hope for something good to come to Tess.

  Zoe tweaked Sharon’s nose. “Sleep. You’ll have something to look forward to tomorrow evening.” She wouldn’t tell the girl that she’d likely sleep a sight better without knowing the end of the terrible story. She would find that out soon enough on her own. She adjusted Sharon’s blankets. “For now, I want you to think of something. How would things have been better for Tess and her family if only they had chosen to do things according to the Good Book, hmmm? Remember, dear Sharon, the devil wants only to steal, to kill, and to destroy. But Jesus has come that we might have life. Yes?”

  Sharon scrunched her nose and grumbled. “It’s just a story.”

  Zoe nodded. “Just a story that we can learn from. We can let it make us better or let it make us worse.”

  Sharon sighed. “I suppose.”

  Zoe bent down and pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek. “Thanks for getting Wash to look for me today. I know Ma appreciated your help. Night.”

  “Night,” Sharon mumbled sleepily, and Zoe was gratified to see that her eyes had already slipped closed.

  She set the book on the girls’ dresser and then eased the door shut.

  When she arrived back in the kitchen, Wash had just finished cleaning his bowl at the sink and was drying it with a towel.

  “Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” Zoe hurried forward to take it from him.

  But Wash held it out of her reach and kept drying. “Why not? This is the way we do it at home. Everyone cleans up after himself.”

  “But here you’re a guest.” She stepped closer to try to take the bowl.

  He lifted it higher, with a grin. “A guest who can take care of himself.”

  “Wash give—”

  Ma cleared her throat from the doorway, Pa’s still mostly full bowl in her hand.

  Zoe froze, suddenly realizing just how close she stood to Wash. He must have realized it too, because his jaw bulged and he stepped back, setting his clean bowl on the sideboard.

  He gave Ma a nod. “Soup was right delicious, Mrs. Kastain. Thank you.”

  Ma gave him a nod and strode to the sink, pumping in some water.

  “I’ll do that, Ma. You sit. You look done in. Did he eat anything?”

  Ma sank into a chair at the table without protest. “More than he’s eaten all day. But the powders make him tired. Then he only wants to sleep.”

  Zoe looked at the amount of broth left in the bowl and knew that whatever amount Pa had ingested, it wasn’t enough to keep a grown man alive. She swallowed, willing away the concern that poured over her. How many days was this now that she’d been worrying over the fact that Pa was barely eating?

  She took in Ma’s sallow cheeks and the creases that puckered her brow.

  “Did you eat, Ma?”

  Ma straightened and tucked her lower lip between her teeth, as though she couldn’t quite remember. She stared vacantly at the wall across from the table.

  Zoe didn’t bother waiting for an answer. She pulled two bowls from the sideboard. “I didn’t get a chance to eat either. I’ll join you, and Wash can tell us the news from town. It will be good to think of something else for a while.” As she ladled soup into two bowls, she gave Wash a look that she hoped conveyed she wanted him to keep his story light—nothing sad or discouraging.

  He gave her a nod, and eased into his chair. He launched into a tale about Pricilla Hines getting cornered in the livery by Bill Giddens’ big gelding, and Ma had even smiled once or twice by the time he got done with the story.

  “Well now, that was some fix she got herself into, wasn’t it?” Ma stood and Zoe was thankful to see that she had downed her soup to the last drop. “I can just see her in her fancy silks trying to circumvent that big galoot of a horse without getting her skirts mussed. But we shouldn’t laugh, I suppose. She has come a long way since she arrived in town. I dare say Parson Clay’s sermons have aided the Holy Spirit in doing some work on her.”

  Zoe met Wash’s gaze. She wouldn’t go that far with regards to the snooty wife of Wyldhaven’s mercantile owner, but Ma was one of those people who never had an unkind word to say about anyone. And come to think of it, Mrs. Hines had smiled and greeted Zoe warmly last Sunday with no apparent ulterior motive.

  Wash stood to his feet. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Kastain. It was delicious.”

  Ma nodded. “Thank you for tracking down my Zoe and fetching her home.”

  Wash’s gaze landed on Zoe and for some reason Zoe couldn’t quiet comprehend, she felt a tingle zip down her back at his scrutiny. Everything inside her raised to awareness in the most pleasant of ways. He looked at her with a new light in his eyes that she’d never noticed before.

  He cleared his throat and broke eye contact, bouncing a glance off Ma, who stood looking between them. “It was my pleasure, ma’am. I’d best get—”

  “Susan...” Pa’s call from the bedroom was weak but distinct.

  Ma plunked her bowl on the table and rushed from the room.

  Zoe stayed right on her heels.

  Pa writhed on the bed, hands curled around his middle, face contorted in a grimace that bared his teeth.

  Ma swiped a gesture at her. “The powders, Zoe. Fetch honey and water.”

  Zoe hoisted her skirts and dashed to the sideboard in the kitchen. She grabbed a spoon so hastily that it tumbled from her fingers and clattered beneath the table. With a huff of frustration, she snatched up another.

  The jar of honey was thankfully still half full. And Wash was already filling a glass for her at the pump. “Thank you.” She took it from him and hurried back to Pa’s room.

  Ma had helped Pa sit up a bit against his pillows, but Zoe had never seen his face so red, the tendons in his neck bulging as he clamped his teeth to withhold cries of pain.

  Tears blurred her vision as she hurried to scoop a little of the honey onto the spoon and pull the cork from the tube Doc Griffin had given her. She tried to remember what he’d said about dosage. “How much, Ma?”

  Busy laying a cool cloth against Pa’s forehead, Ma flapped a hand. “Half honey half powder, till the teaspoon is full.”

  Zoe hesitated. “But isn’t that more than—”

  “Doc said toward the end we’d need to double up the doses as the pain dictated.”

  Toward the end. The words froze Zoe in place. Her focus honed in on Pa’s twisted expression.

  “Just do it, Zoe,” Ma snapped.

  “Yes’m.” Zoe’s hands trembled as she tapped out enough powder to fill the rest of the teaspoon and then slipped the dosage between Pa’s lips.

  “That’s right, Pa. You’ll be feeling the ease here in no time at all now. Here’s some water. Can you drink? Here, I’ll put it on the spoon for you.”

  Her words and her actions were mechanical. Stilted. But she forced herself to stay until she saw Pa physically relax.

  One moment he was all tightness and tension and the next moment he eased out a breath and sank into his pillows, his eyes rolling back into his head a bit before falling closed.

  Ma released a breath. “Thank you, Zoe. He’ll rest for a bit now.”

  Ma’s worried gaze landed on the tube of powders. And Zoe immediately knew her concern. If they were going to have to give Pa this much each time, they were going to run out in just a few more doses.

  She forced herself to speak, keeping her focus on the steady rise and fall of Pa’s chest. “He’s not going to make it, is he?”

  She heard Ma swallow. “I’m afraid not, Zoe. Doc feared the pains would only continue to grow worse until the end.”

  Zoe put the cork back into the tube and set it on the side table. “Is this going to be enough for the night? Wash and I can go to town and get Doc.”

  Ma brushed a hand over her face. “Send Wash. But stay with me? Please. In case...”

  “Yes’m.” Zoe gave a little dip of her kne
es. “I’ll be right back.”

  She left the room, intending to stop by the settee to speak to Wash, but the moment she stepped from Pa’s room, she knew she needed some fresh air. She rushed past Wash, flung open the front door, and charged onto the porch without even bothering to shut the door behind her. The rail felt cool beneath her palms and she leaned forward, drawing in long draughts of the crisp evening air, gulping her sobs into soft huffs instead of the wails that wanted to scream from inside her.

  Behind her, the door clicked shut, and Wash’s footsteps drew nearer. He stayed silent. Zoe forced herself to inhale slowly, and they stood near each other through the tympanic song of one bull frog and the simple serenade of a cricket. Finally, Wash leaned his forearms on the rail, looking up into her face. “What can I do, Zo?”

  Zoe dashed at her cheeks with one palm, then rested her cheek against her shoulder and met his searching, concerned gaze. Through her tight throat she was barely able to eke out, “Ma wonders if you can fetch Doc for us?”

  Wash’s jaw jutted to one side and sorrow furrowed his brow, softened his eyes. “Of course. I’ll go right away.” He stood, brushing his hand across her back and squeezing her shoulder as he did so. “I’m right sorry, Zo. Right sorry.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jacinda’s hands trembled as she hovered the boiled blade just above Zane’s shoulder. She pierced Dixie with a look. “You’re sure he’s not going to fe`el anything?”

  Dixie nodded. “I’ve helped Flynn with surgeries several times. This is how he does it.” She swept a gesture to the small bowl-shaped mask that she’d placed over Zane’s nose and mouth. “The chloroform makes the patients sleep deeply enough that they don’t even feel the pain.”

  “Okay.” She sent up a quick prayer and put the blade to use. And the good Lord must indeed have been watching out because she felt the metallic resistance of the bullet fragment in just moments.

  The whole procedure, from first cut to final stitch, didn’t take more than half an hour.

  Even so, by the time Jacinda finished, she felt as though she’d been running for hours on no sleep. She sank into the chair by Zane’s bed and swiped a strand of hair from her face.

  Dixie stood across the room with Doc’s spare doctor bag in her hands.

  “I’ll just run this home and then I’ll be right back with some stew and biscuits for you. You look done in.”

  Jacinda glanced at Zane, taking in the rise and fall of his chest. “I feel done in.”

  “I’m sure you do. I’ll be right back. Do you need anything else?”

  Jacinda shook her head. “No.”

  Just for Zane to wake up and look at her with those silvery-blue eyes of his.

  “I’ll lock the door behind me and then knock when I return.”

  Jacinda nodded her thanks, never taking her focus off Zane.

  What if he got an infection? What if she hadn’t gotten all the fragments? She’d only found two, though one was quite large. Could there be more? Would they cause problems?

  What if they’d given him too much chloroform? Had Dixie really known how much to administer?

  Her stomach crimped into a tight knot.

  Thankfully, Doc would be here in the morning and then maybe he could ease some of her concerns. If she hadn’t done the job right, he would fix it. And if she had, he would let her know.

  She sat right where she was, comforting herself with the steady rhythm of Zane’s breathing, until she heard Dixie’s soft knock at the kitchen door.

  She pushed herself up and shuffled into the kitchen. She was too old for this kind of worry. After a quick glance through the curtain to make sure it was Dixie, she swung the door open.

  Dixie frowned at her above the tray she held in her hands. She stepped inside, set the tray on the kitchen table, but then faced Jacinda and plunked her hands on her hips. “Jacinda Callahan, none of your worrying is going to change one iota of these circumstances, you know that right?”

  Jacinda felt a little sheepish. “Yes.”

  “Promise me you are going to get some sleep tonight?”

  Jacinda smiled wearily. “I promise. As tired as I am, I don’t think there will be any way around it.”

  “All right then.” Dixie pulled her into a quick embrace. “I’ll send Flynn down to check on him first thing in the morning. He can fetch my tray and dishes home then.”

  “Thank you so much.” Jacinda motioned toward the food.

  “Of course. I’m happy to help.”

  Jacinda saw her out, locking the door behind her. Then she managed to down half the bowl of delicious stew and one of the biscuits. She set the rest aside. It would give her something quick to warm up for Zane if he woke up hungry in the middle of the night.

  She yawned expansively. She had arisen before dawn and put in a full day of sewing before she and Zane had escorted Reagan and Charlotte to the train station. Weariness tugged at her. But she couldn’t go up to her bed on the upper level. If Zane woke, she might not hear him. However, neither could she, a single woman, make up a pallet in his sick room. It wouldn’t be seemly.

  Instead, she dragged the settee from the parlor into the entry and pushed it to one side of her sewing room door—now Zane’s sick room.

  She fetched a pillow and a blanket from upstairs and then gave one last look at Zane before she laid down. She closed her eyes, but everything in her strained to hear Zane’s steady breaths.

  Every few minutes, she lifted her head from the muffling effects of the pillow to make sure he was still doing all right. Then she chastised herself to quit worrying and try to rest. And the cycle would repeat itself.

  Finally, Jacinda punched her pillow into a conformed lump, and forced herself not to lift her head again. Father, I’m in a bit of a pickle. I know that none of my worrying can help Zane, and yet, forgive me, but with the way we lost Wade, I fear that maybe you will take Zane from me too. I know in my head that your Word says you love us and only want good for us, yet my experience doesn’t bear that out. So how do I get past that and let go of the worry?

  No answer came.

  And if she were honest, she hadn’t expected one.

  Lenny paced from the front of the cave to the rear and back again while Roddy rolled and moaned on his pallet. Bob had tried to extract the bullet from his gut, but hadn’t been able to find it, and Lenny feared that Bob might have done even more damage to Roddy than the bullet had already done.

  Now, curse it all, he had a decision to make. Did he go for the doc? Or didn’t he?

  Just the thought of seeing the doc again made his stomach ache. Was it really only six months ago that Doc had been treating Wanda at their little cabin out at Camp Sixty-Five? Of course he’d been going by a different name then. And praying every day that Doc wouldn’t recognize him through his thick beard and long hair. Undeniably, the scar he’d sustained across his left eye and cheek from that fight in McNeil Island Federal Penitentiary had also helped to conceal his identity.

  Lenny Smith, one of the infamous members of the Waddell Gang, had been a man with a rather forgettable face, but clean-cut and shaven.

  Roger Polsky, the man whose wife Doc had been treating, was unshaven, unshorn, and wore a leather patch over one eye. Almost a different man entirely. But he couldn’t begrudge that any. After all, it was the three months in solitary after that fight that had helped him escape. That and the fact that he’d grown up swimming in the ocean nearly every day.

  When he’d been tossed in solitary, he hadn’t let himself wallow. He’d made himself work. Exercise. Strengthen his muscles.

  Even then, looking back, it had been a bit of providence that had helped him escape.

  A thick fog had rolled in. And the single guard who’d come to pull him out of the stone-lined hole on the edge of the prison grounds hadn’t expected his attack, much less the strength with which he’d launched it.

  For three months, Lenny had sat alone and planned his escape. For three months he’d played through scenario after scenario of just how he could make it happen. He knew he had only a few feet between solitary and the confines of the jailhouse to make his escape. So he’d acted quickly.

  Nonetheless, if the guard hadn’t tripped over a rock when Lenny’d shoved him, he might not have made it. But the guard had tripped. And the rock had been right there near to hand. He’d bashed the man in the head, then used his keys to remove the cuffs.