by Zina Abbott
Declan turned to his wife. “Hurry next door and tell Brinks to get over here. Then go tell Harold I need him.”
As Rilla ran through the backyard to do her husband’s bidding, Declan stepped into the room, his intense gaze fixed on Herbert. “Mrs. Price, are you all right?”
“I am now, thank you. Herbert was just leaving.”
“Please, join your husband in the next room for a few minutes, Mrs. Price. Herbert and I’ve got some business to discuss.”
After Dahlia twisted far enough to place the pan back into her sink, she rushed toward the door leading to the bedroom. As he approached her brother-in-law, she could not help but hear Declan’s measured steps.
“You know Mr. Bainbridge ordered you to stay off this side of the river until tomorrow night.”
“It’s Christmas. I came to see my brother.” As usual, Herbert whined his excuse.
Dahlia’s shoulders involuntarily hunched in response to the sound of a fist connecting with flesh and bone. Upon hearing Herbert’s howl, she knew who had thrown the punch. She scurried into the bedroom and grabbed the edge of the door as she spun to slam it shut.
Feeling tears of anger, relief, and a touch of self-pity begin to well up in her eyes, she squeezed them shut as she pressed her forehead against the cool, painted surface of the wood. On the other side, in raised voices, the confrontation continued.
“No excuse, Herbert. You had plenty of time to see him before Mr. Bainbridge called you into his office yesterday. If it hadn’t been for you, your brother wouldn’t even be in this fix.”
“It wasn’t my fault. It was an accident.”
Dahlia wondered what had happened. She had been told the day before that Herbert had been fired from his job and was not allowed on mine-owned land, including the property on which her house was located. However, she had not been told any details beyond that.
“It was your fault. You didn’t follow orders—my orders.”
Declan’s words were interrupted by the stomp of booted feet entering her kitchen. She guessed Aaron and Harold had arrived.
“What are they doing here?”
“They are going to help me escort you out of here and off Prosperity Mine land. And, Herbert, because it’s Christmas, I’m not going to lock you in one of the mine sheds for the night where you’d freeze your behind off. We’re going to take you back across the river. However, you show up here, or anywhere on mine property again before it’s time for you to meet with Royce Bainbridge, then all bets are off.”
“What do you mean?”
“He means, I see you again where you can be a nuisance to Mrs. Price or any of our wives, I’ll personally toss you into the Arkansas River myself—let you float down to Pueblo.”
When she recognized Harold’s voice, Dahlia smiled.
“You can’t do that! It’s freezing cold. Besides, I can’t swim.”
“Then, you better stay on the other side of the river. Find your bed, Herbert, and get a good night’s sleep.”
Dahlia suspected Aaron faced away from her when he spoke because she barely caught his words.
“Wait! My chicken and biscuits. She made them for me.”
Dahlia guessed someone must have handed Herbert’s food to him, because she heard no more complaining as the group of men walked out of her home. Only when she heard the door pulled firmly shut did she raise her head and open her eyes to stare at the door before her.
Dahlia’s hand brushed a lock of hair out of her face. She knew, after her struggle with her brother-in-law, she must look like she had been caught in a tornado. She next stepped back and looked down. She groaned at the sight of the splotches on the front of her apron created by the greasy water from the frying pan she had grabbed to fend off Herbert. She realized, if it soaked through, the oil would stain her pink gown—the one she had made for the wedding, but foolishly, it now turned out, had worn to celebrate Christmas day. She yanked the ties loose and shucked the apron, tossing it behind her in the far corner. She turned to the window opposite the bed and studied the front of the gown, searched for stains. She found none but would check again tomorrow, when the light was better. She hoped if there were some, she could wash them out and salvage the dress for when she and Nathan reaffirmed their vows after he regained consciousness—if he regained consciousness.
She squeezed her eyes shut, convinced that this day must be her most miserable Christmas ever. It had turned out to be even worse than the one when she stayed home with her sick father while the rest of the family traveled to her sister Rose’s house to celebrate.
She straightened her spine. Nothing would be gained by feeling sorry for herself. She needed to check on Nathan.
Dahlia turned, only to have the day transform from one of gloom and foreboding to one of hope and joy as she gazed into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen—eyes wide open and staring at her.
.
.
.
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Chapter 22
~o0o~
H and outstretched, Dahlia rushed toward the right side of the bed. After several steps, she forced herself to an abrupt halt. She knew Nathan—she had been taking care of him for a week now. However, she realized he did not know who she was. She needed to slow down and, when she spoke, do so calmly.
Dahlia’s gaze never left his face. She noticed his eyes followed her for a few seconds before, with a wrinkled forehead, he glanced about the room. He then returned his gaze to her once she stopped at his right side. He tightened the skin around his eyes, as if trying to focus, then he closed his eyes and turned away.
Fearing he would slip back into unconsciousness again, Dahlia’s stomach clenched. She fought the urge to hold him by the shoulders in an effort to keep him with her. Instead, she leaned forward and kept her voice quiet. “Nathan? I know everything looks strange to you, but all is well. Can you look at me again?” Stay with me, Nathan. Please! “You injured your head, but you’re getting better.” She paused and reached for his right hand. She rubbed the top with her other. “Can you tell me your full name?”
Nathan’s eyes opened once more, and his forehead wrinkled in a frown. He jerked his head to look at his hand held in both of hers. After making the sudden movement, he winced. Once again, he closed his eyes. “Nathan Edward Price.” He spoke so quietly she barely heard him. He licked his lips. “I’m tired now. I need to sleep.”
Dahlia felt panic well up within her. No! I can’t lose you again. “For just a moment, Nathan, then it’s important that you wake back up. I made beef soup for you to eat. I’ll go warm it.”
Dahlia stood at the stove, stirring her pan holding a small amount of the soup. If she could keep him alert, she’d cut bigger pieces of meat and cook more vegetables to add for the portion she had saved aside for the next day. Thankfully, she had the chicken from Herbert she could fix into something more than broth or a thin.
Upon hearing the knock on her back door, Dahlia turned. Her face reflecting the excitement she felt, she opened it to welcome in the three men plus Rilla, Andrea, and Cat. She could not hold onto her good news any longer than it took to close her door. “Nathan woke up. He didn’t stay alert long, but he spoke. He knows his name.”
Dahlia felt lightning bugs of excitement burst inside her as, laughing and hugging each of the wives in turn, she joined in with the exclamations of relief and rejoicing expressed by the others.
It was Declan who grew serious first. “You think we can talk to him?”
Dahlia hesitated, and then decided it would be best if they spoke with Nathan next. He knew them and would recognize their voices, whereas he would have no way of knowing her. “Yes. He seems sensitive to light and probably would not take a lot of excitement well. However, I’m sure, even if he doesn’t open his eyes again right away, he will be able to hear you. I’ll check with Dr. Sprague tomorrow, but I suspect the best thing for him now is to stay alert as long as possible.”
“Maybe we ladies should wait in here
. Mr. Price doesn’t work with us, so he wouldn’t know us as well.”
Dahlia turned to Cat who spoke and nodded her head. “I’m sorry I don’t have more chairs to share with you. I’ll get the one from the bedroom, and then at least two of you can sit while I finish fixing this soup.”
The men followed Dahlia into the bedroom where Aaron grabbed the chair and brought it out to the kitchen. Both Rilla and Andrea claimed the chairs while Cat insisted she felt too restless to sit.
Dahlia returned to her stove. While the other three started talking among themselves, she kept an ear turned toward the open door to pick up anything said in the next room.
“Hey, Nathan. Time to wake up. You got company.”
Dahlia smiled up upon hearing Declan.
“You think he may have fallen back into a deep sleep?” Aaron had spoken next.
“I’m awake. What’s everyone doing here—wherever here is?”
“Came to visit you.” Harold answered him. “We’ve been here on and off all week, but you’ve been out of it. Figured it was time you rejoined the living.”
“It will be worth it. You’ve got some soup coming.” Aaron that time.
“Good. I’m starving. Need to use the necessary first, though.”
Upon hearing that, Dahlia slid the pan of soup to the back of the stove where it would stay warm and rushed into the room. “There’s a chamber pot under the bed on the right side. But, gentlemen, before anyone flings the blankets off Nathan, I need someone to help me readjust his clothing. I’ve had his nightshirt rucked up high while he’s been out.” Dahlia paused and looked at Aaron, who stood across the bed from her. “Mr. Brinks, will you please reach beneath the blanket on your side and search above his waist for the hem of his nightshirt? I’ll do the same over here. Once he's decently covered, if one or two of you will help support him, I’ll step in the other room.”
“I know how to get to the necessary by myself.”
In spite of the weakness in his voice, Dahlia could hear Nathan’s displeasure.
Dahlia stopped and reached up to cup her palm against his cheek, the same gesture she used to settle her father down when he had objected to needing her to care for him. “Nathan…Mr. Price…we’ve kept water and broth down you, but between your injuries and lack of solid food, you are weaker and probably more unsteady on your feet than you used to be. It will take a few days for you to regain your strength. Until then, let us help you.”
She watched her husband’s face as he fought his way through a wide range of emotions. He attempted to brace his arms on the mattress and raise himself, only to collapse back on his pillow and wince as his head made contact.
“I don’t have any more strength than a newborn kitten.”
“You will soon.”
Dahlia looked over to Aaron and nodded. Gratified he followed her cue, under cover of the blankets, he held a piece of nightshirt on his side with one hand, and using the other, raised Nathan’s lower back so the two of them could slide the nightshirt hem in place at his knees. As she stood and addressed the others, Dahlia ignored the glare Nathan shot her direction.
“Thank you, gentlemen. I don’t know how many of you it will take, but I’ll leave you to help Mr. Price with his personal needs. Please call me when he’s back in bed and ready to eat.”
Dahlia whirled and raced out of the room. Only as she turned, intending to shut the door to give her husband some privacy, did she realize Declan followed her.
Dahlia returned to the stove while Declan closed the door. Considering her kitchen now overflowed with a room full of visitors, she hoped that by busying herself with preparing his food, she could disguise her dismay over Nathan’s reaction to her. He didn’t want her. He resented her being there. He resisted her helping him.
Enough soup poured to fill half a bowl, she turned to find Declan, his arms folded, standing in the middle of the room while he studied her. The three wives, wearing concerned expressions, stopped their conversations.
“Mrs. Price, did you have enough time with him earlier for him to know who you are?”
Dahlia sucked in a breath. To prevent the bowl she held from slipping through her trembling fingers, she set it back on the counter next to the sink. “No, we didn’t talk about who I am or what I am to him. I don’t think he knows where he is.”
Declan pursed his lips as he looked off to the side and nodded. “That could be a problem. As soon as the others finish helping Nathan, let me go in there first. He knows us. As long as he stays alert—doesn’t slip away again—maybe it’s best if we talk to him before you come in.”
Dahlia nodded her agreement.
Soon, the door opened, and Declan reentered the room. Dahlia, her arms folded, followed as far as the wall next to the door. She knew the women must think her rude for not joining them, but she could not socialize during such a critical time. Instead, she cocked her ear to hear Declan boom out an exaggerated greeting.
“You look better already, Nathan. Glad to see they have you sitting up.”
“What’s going on? Who’s that woman who was in here?”
Upon hearing Nathan’s question, Dahlia closed her eyes.
“She’s your wife, Nathan. Her name’s Dahlia. You remember sending for her?”
An eternity seemed to pass while Dahlia waited for Nathan to respond to Harold. She held her breath.
“I don’t remember getting married. I know I wrote to several women, but they turned me down.”
Clutching her stomach, Dahlia bit her lip as she bent forward to hide her face from the women in her kitchen who watched her closely.
It was Andrea’s soft footsteps that crossed the room. Wordlessly, she stood next to Dahlia and placed an arm around her as Declan next spoke.
“Do you remember the accident in the mine, Nathan—the explosion on level two that sent that cap beam crashing into your head?”
“No, but it would explain why I feel like someone hit the back of my neck with a nine-pound hammer. Is that why I’m here like this?”
“Yep.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“I hate to tell you this, but you’ve been out cold for twelve days.”
“Twelve days? I’ve lost twelve days of my life, but somehow picked up a wife I don’t know about?” Dahlia could not miss the tone on incredulity in Nathan’s voice. She would have smiled at the deep rumble of Harold’s chuckle if her heart did not feel like it had been shattered in pieces.
“Yep. That’s one good thing that came out of all this.” His tone grew more serious. “She’s taken real good care of you, Nathan, after Doc Sprague did all he could do. The fact you’re back with us and doing so well is because of her.”
“Give yourself time, Nathan. With all the reading I do, I’ve learned of cases where people who are injured badly sometimes don’t remember what happened to them right away.” Aaron, the voice of reason, spoke next. “Sometimes, they forget months or years of their lives. I bet, even by tomorrow, more will start coming back to you. Maybe we should leave and let you be. I think Mrs. Price has some soup she’s ready to feed you now.”
“I am hungry.”
Taking that as her cue, Dahlia hurried to the counter, picked up the bowl of soup, and found a spoon. She walked toward the bedroom door and arrived at the entry in time to hear Nathan’s next statement.
“Mrs. Price. I don’t even know her, yet you say she’s my wife.”
“Nathan, I know you must find things confusing, but it’s all right.” Declan assumed his crew manager voice when he responded. “Harold or I will be back in the morning to check on you and help with anything you need. In the meantime, trust us when we tell you that Dahlia is your wife and has been taking care of you. She’ll continue to do so until you’re better.”
“Which better be pretty quick.” Harold broke in. “With everything backed up, Bainbridge didn’t give us an extra day off for Christmas, only our usual Sunday. He says this coming week, our half day will be Fr
iday, and we’ll have Saturday and Monday off for the New Year holiday. A week from tomorrow, pal, we’re going in the mountains to cut more firewood. You’re coming with us.”
Dahlia watched Nathan groan and shake his head.
“The way I feel now, I doubt I’ll be able to do any good if I go.”
Dahlia agreed with Nathan, to a point. He might not be able to cut or stack wood on an outing like that, but as long as he was on his feet and mobile, it might be just the uplift he needed to hasten his recovery.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re going, even if we have to hog-tie you to a sled and drag you behind the wagon.”
“I’ll certainly do what I can since I don’t much favor being trussed to a sled. It’s just…everything in my mind is in such a jumble right now. What day is it, anyway?”
Dahlia could tell by Nathan’s response he had regained some of his humor.
Harold rocked heel to toe. “It’s Christmas Day. You coming back to us was a pretty big gift.”
“Christmas Day! No wonder I don’t remember much.”
Declan gestured toward Dahlia and continued the explanation while Harold left to bring a chair into the room. “Dahlia, here, arrived on the train right after the mine collapse happened. And, believe it or not, when it came to figuring out how she could stay alone with you to take care of you, Herbert came up with the solution.”
“Herbert? How is Herbert? He wasn’t injured in the mine, was he?”
Declan cleared his throat. “Herbert’s fine. We’ll talk more about Herbert tomorrow.”
Dahlia knew it was not up to her to tell Nathan of Herbert’s problems with the mine, but she did wish to reassure him. “Herbert stopped by for a little while earlier to visit you for Christmas.”
As he bunched his skin between his eyebrows, Nathan looked off to the side. “I thought I heard Herbert’s voice.”
“You did. He brought a chicken for Christmas dinner. While I cooked some for him, he stayed in here and visited with you. I still have some of the meat I’ll fix for you tomorrow. I’m…ah…” She glanced at the other three men in the room. “I’m sorry you missed him.” She realized the other men would wait for the right time to fill Nathan in on all the details of how Herbert’s visit ended.
