“Where’s Zachariah?” Lance called out in his raspy, smoke-damaged voice.
“Mama!” Peter screamed as he raced toward Lance.
“No, boys,” Lance said as he paused. “Let’s get her to the bunkhouse. Peter, fill a bucketful of water and, Simon, turn down a mattress.” He met Mrs. Wagner’s watery gaze. “I did what I could.”
She nodded and walked with him to the bunkhouse. On the way there, he saw Zachariah pumping water into buckets and tossing it over the barn and paddock.
“I’ll help you in a minute,” Lance said as he walked slowly to the bunkhouse.
Zachariah looked at him and dropped his bucket to the ground as he raced to him. “El,” he breathed. “Oh, thank heavens. I couldn’t bear to watch the house burn and know…” His eyes gleamed with unshed tears and rage. When Zachariah realized that Lance was on the verge of falling over, he eased Eleanor into his arms. “I’ll carry her.” He nodded as he saw the reluctant agreement in Lance’s gaze. “She’ll know all you did.”
Lance watched as Zachariah walked to the bunkhouse with Eleanor in his arms. Lance coughed so hard he thought he’d never stop, then collapsed to his knees. Finally, he caught his breath, gasping as he took a deep inhalation. Cool hands traced over his face, and he looked up to see Peter watching him. “I’m fine.”
Peter walked to the pump and filled a bucket of water. He held out the ladle for Lance and watched as Lance took a long sip of water before dumping the bucket over his head. “Why’d you do that?”
“I need to rid myself of the feeling that I’m still in a burning house.” He watched as Peter nodded. “Get Simon. We have work to do.”
Peter raced to the bunkhouse and returned with his brother. They soon began a bucket brigade where they formed a perimeter around the house to prevent the fire from spreading. “Keep on the lookout for cinders flying in the air. Stomp them out as soon as you see one!” Lance coughed after speaking but continued to work with the boys. Soon, Zachariah joined them, and one man worked with a boy at each pump.
They worked until the house had burned itself to hot ashes, and the risk of fire abated. “We were fortunate there was no breeze tonight,” Zachariah said as he swiped at his sooty brow. “We could have lost everything.”
Lance nodded and whispered, “I almost did.”
Zachariah wrapped an arm around each boy’s shoulder. “Come rest in my cottage and then go see your mother. Mrs. Wagner is with her, and she’ll inform us if she’s in any danger.”
Simon stepped away from Zachariah and held onto Lance’s hand. “You’ll get us if Mama…” His lower lip trembled. “Please?”
Lance crouched down and cradled the boy’s cheek. “Of course, Simon. But I know your mother will recover. She’s strong and brave, just like her boys.” He held Simon close as he threw himself into Lance’s arms. He looked at Peter and saw him leaning against Zachariah. After a few moments, Simon sniffled and backed away.
“I get the right side of the bed,” Peter said, and Simon spun around, his hands on his hips.
“No you don’t!” Simon yelled and ran toward Zachariah’s small cabin. Peter chased after his brother but didn’t run at full speed.
“That was nice of Peter,” Zachariah murmured. “To help take Simon’s mind off his worry about his mother.”
Lance nodded. “They’ll be asleep before you get there, and it won’t matter which side of the bed they’re sleeping on.” Lance shared a long look with his boss and friend. “I’ll come by with any news, or I’ll see you later today.”
Lance watched as the foreman walked toward his home, coughing intermittently. Lance took a deep breath and grimaced at the tightness that remained in his own chest. Any personal concerns faded as he thought about Eleanor, and he strode to the bunkhouse. When he arrived, he doffed his hat and ducked his head as he entered. Mrs. Wagner sat beside an ashen Eleanor, although her chest rose and fell with each breath, and her breathing did not seem labored.
“Should we ride for the doctor?” Lance asked.
Mrs. Wagner shook her head. “No, Zachariah asked me that when he brought her here. There’s nothin’ a doc could do. We must wait and see if she wakes up.” She focused on Lance and frowned. “Sit before you fall over, Mr. Gallagher.”
He pulled out a chair and sat on the other side of Eleanor’s bed. “There’s so much I want to tell her,” he whispered. “So much I should have said.” He reached forward and gripped her hand, raising it so he could kiss it.
Mrs. Wagner made a sound of agreement. “I think you both have regrets about the silence you have kept.” She reached forward and softly freed his hand from Eleanor’s. “She might not need the doctor, but you do.” Mrs. Wagner shook her head in regret at the burns on his hands and the patches where skin had peeled away.
“I’m fine. Our only concern should be Eleanor.” He met her challenging gaze.
“No, son, what would she do if she woke and found you ailing and feverish because you let your wounds fester?” She sighed as she looked outside. “I never thought to ask if the root cellar burned.”
“No, only the house,” Lance said. “Nothing from the house was saved.”
“No. Everything that was vital was saved,” she contradicted him. “Remain here with Eleanor, and I’ll be back shortly.”
He frowned as he watched her leave. She did not need a lantern as dawn had arrived, and a soft glow lit outside. When the door closed softly behind Mrs. Wagner, Lance rested his head beside Eleanor’s hip and let out a stuttering breath. “Oh, Eleanor, what will I do if I lose you, too?” he whispered. “Please, fight. Please come back to us. Your boys need you. And so do I.”
He took a long breath, coughing a few times, and raised his head to look at Eleanor. Her chest continued to rise and fall in an easy rhythm, and her face had been cleaned of ash and soot. Her hair, usually so vibrant, had a fine layer of ash dulling the subtle red hue. His hand trembled as he traced a finger over her eyebrow. “Wake, my love,” he whispered.
His alert gaze continued to watch her, but she did not awaken at his coaxing. Tears silently leaked down his cheeks. “For I do love you. I’ve loved you and your boys for longer than I realized.” He gripped her hand. “That’s what Zachariah and I were speaking about when you came into the barn. He’s a good friend, Ellie, and wouldn’t betray a confidence. I know you appreciate that about him.”
He waited for any sort of response from her, and, when none came, he began to ramble, uncaring what he shared as long as he spoke. “I want you to hear my voice when you waken,” he whispered. He told her about sitting by the creek before deciding to return to tell her how he felt.
He ignored Mrs. Wagner returning to the bunkhouse. He paid little attention to her ministrations as she washed his hands and then covered them in a salve she had stored in the root cellar. When she bound them in clean cotton that had been stored in the barn, he nodded his thanks but never interrupted his one-sided conversation with Eleanor. Mrs. Wagner rested on a nearby mattress, but Lance continued to keep his vigil next to Eleanor, insistent to greet her the moment she woke.
Chapter 7
Two days later, Doc Gracie had come and gone, and Eleanor remained unconscious in the bunkhouse. Lance and Zachariah had decided to bunk together in Zachariah’s foreman’s cabin and had turned the bunkhouse into a home for the Ferguson family and Mrs. Wagner, until a new ranch house could be built. Zachariah hoped to build the ranch house in the same general vicinity as the old home but knew they needed to wait for the embers to fully cool before moving the boards and initiating cleanup of the ruined house.
A few minutes ago, a group of men had arrived from town. They had heard the news of the fire after Gracie’s return to Rattlesnake Ridge, and Jack Hollis had ridden out with them. Although Lance had resisted Zachariah’s summon to join the men outside, he gave in when Zachariah waited for him in the doorway. Lance kissed Eleanor on the forehead and left Eleanor’s side with Mrs. Wagner quietly knitting beside her.
>
Jack, Zachariah, and Lance watched as the townsmen kicked at the rubble, turning over pieces of wood and shaking their heads at the sight of the home reduced to ashes. A few of the men carried buckets of water in case it was necessary, but they had yet to find a hot spot to be put out.
“What a disaster,” Jack muttered as he stared at the men wandering around. “Any idea how it started?” He looked first to Zachariah and then to Lance.
Zachariah shook his head. “No. I woke to the sound of Simon screaming from Peter’s window.” His eyes shone with regret and horror. “By the time I got outside, the house was already half burned.” He traced at a healing burn on his left forearm and took a deep breath as though he were again breathing in the smoke-filled air that had welcomed him as he burst into the house in an attempt to save the boys.
“Thank God you went upstairs when you did to save the boys,” Lance murmured as he watched Peter and Simon play with their puppy. “And Patch.”
“I couldn’t find Eleanor,” Zachariah whispered, his voice laced with regret. “I got the boys out and went back inside, but I couldn’t find her.” He looked at Lance. “I promise you that I did.”
Lance nodded. “You couldn’t have known she’d be in the kitchen. Thankfully Mrs. Wagner did.”
Jack frowned. “How did Mrs. Wagner get out?”
Zachariah shrugged, and Lance spoke up. “She told me, when she opened her bedroom door, the kitchen was like an inferno. She slammed her door shut and climbed out her window. Her room was on the first floor, so she didn’t have far to fall.”
Jack squinted as though envisioning the scene.
“She also told me that Eleanor had been nursing a cup of tea at the kitchen table as she hadn’t planned to go to bed that night,” Lance said.
Zachariah gave a grunt as though that made sense and then sighed. “Thank heavens she was not upstairs.”
Lance shuddered. “I wish we knew what caused the fire.”
Jack shook his head. “It would take a miracle to discover what did. Just as a miracle spared the rest of your buildings.” He looked around and shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe at the end of a dry summer that you only lost the house.”
“We were fortunate it was a still night,” Lance said. “If there had been any wind…” He cleared his throat. “I fear the house would have burned faster, and we might have lost…” He shook his head, unable to give voice to his worst fear.
Jack murmured his agreement. “Give thanks for all you have and that what was lost can be rebuilt.” He frowned as he looked down the lane and saw Sterling Hayden cantering toward them. “It will be interesting to see what he has to say.”
Zachariah seemed to bristle, but then he forced himself to relax. “Sterling,” he said in his deep voice, little friendliness in his tone.
“I must see her! How is she?” Sterling gasped as he vaulted off his horse. He threw his reins at Lance and glared at him when Lance failed to grab them. “Boy, that is your job. Take care of my horse.”
Lance held up his injured hands and shook his head. “I beg your pardon, sir. I’m unable to tend your horse at this time.” Although his words could have been construed as meek, his tone verged on hostile.
Sterling grabbed the reins and tied his horse to a paddock rail. “Well, where is Eleanor? I must see her. I must ensure she is well.” He swiped at his brow, and his eyes were filled with an ill-defined emotion.
Jack took a step forward, his gaze alert as he studied the man. “Why are you keen on seeing Mrs. Ferguson? She has her family around her as she heals. Doc Gracie said she should not be bothered by visitors right now.”
Sterling puffed out his chest and placed a hand on his burgundy silk waistcoat. “I am not a simple visitor. I am her betrothed.”
Zachariah choked and Lance blanched. “Does she know that?” Zachariah asked. When Sterling flushed, Zachariah marched toward the man and used his height in an attempt to intimidate him. “You’d use her incapacitation to force her hand?”
Sterling tilted his head upward in defiance. “It’s what she wants. You know how women are. They don’t know their minds.”
Lance hissed in pain as his injured hands formed fists. “You are a fool. She’s been smart enough to outwit you for two years. She’ll never agree to marry you.”
Sterling glared at Lance and shook his head. “Who are you to have an opinion? You’re a ranch hand.” He looked at Zachariah. “And you’re the foreman. This matter is between your betters.”
Jack gripped Lance’s arm before he could lunge for the pompous man. “I’d remind you, Sterling, that you are threatening a good woman’s reputation.” When Sterling snorted at that, Jack shook his head. “Don’t bait them any more than you have. For you won’t like the consequences, and I will turn a blind eye.”
“You’re a man of the law. You have to protect me,” Sterling protested.
Jack took a deep breath. “You are acting without honor, and that I will not condone.” He nodded to Zachariah and Lance, turned on his heel, and walked away as though to supervise the men who continued to clear away the rubble.
Zachariah leaned forward and whispered in a lethal voice, “I’d leave now, Sterling. Leave before we have a reason to do you harm.”
Sterling looked from Zachariah to Lance, who now stood at Zachariah’s side. “I have every right to see her.”
“No, you have every right to request to see her. And that has been denied,” Lance said. “Leave while you can still ride your horse.”
Sterling glared at the two men. He stomped to his horse and heaved himself on it before galloping away.
Lance let out a deep breath as he watched the man leave. “I wish I’d been able to punch him.”
Zachariah let out a laugh. “Me too. Even though Jack said he wouldn’t interfere, it wouldn’t have been a good idea. Not with all those witnesses willing to gossip in town.” He nodded to the interested stares of the men working on the charred remains of the house.
Lance tilted his head in the direction of the avid stares of Eleanor’s sons. “And not in front of the boys.”
Peter and Simon raced toward them. They had sat on a distant paddock rail while they talked with Jack and then Sterling Hayden.
“Mr. Lance! Mr. Lance!” Simon gasped as he ran.
“Is Mama really marrying that man?” Peter asked, earning a push from his brother for asking his question.
Lance scratched behind his ear and shrugged. “I believe that man is mistaken, but the only person who can tell us that is your mother. We must wait for her to wake up and tell us.”
Simon’s bottom lip trembled, and he bit it. “She will wake up?” he asked in a tiny voice.
Lance crouched down and gripped the boy’s shoulder. He looked from him to Peter, his gaze earnest and truthful. “I pray she will, but I won’t lie to you and assure you that she will. We must never lose hope.”
Simon sniffled and fought back tears that wanted to fall.
Peter looked from Lance to Zachariah and slung his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “We have no family if Mama dies.” He stiffened his shoulders as though to ward off the terror expressed in those words.
“You have family, Peter,” Zachariah said. He looked to Peter’s younger brother. “Simon. You have me. You have Mrs. Wagner. You have Mr. Lance. And you still have your mama.”
Peter nodded and then urged Simon to race him to the sentry tree. The two boys ran off as quickly as they had arrived.
“They’re terrified,” Zachariah murmured as he watched them run away and play as though they were normal boys without a care in the world. “Mrs. Wagner tells me that they cry themselves to sleep at night and that nothing calms them.”
Lance sighed. “Until Eleanor wakes, nothing will.”
* * *
A soft voice permeated the profound silence, and she strained to hear the words. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt like they were sewn shut. She moved her hand, and the voice stopped
speaking. Keep talking to me, she thought as the voice was melodic and soothing. Soon she felt hands tracing over her, and she tried to speak.
“El,” Zachariah said, and a hand brushed hair off her forehead. “El, wake up.”
“Trying,” she whispered, uncertain if she spoke or thought the words. When she heard gasps and a sob, she realized she must have spoken. “So hard.”
“You can do it, Mama!” her youngest son, Simon, said. She felt his small hand grip her arm as he leaned against her. “We’ve missed you, Mama.”
“Please, Mama,” Peter whispered.
She took a deep breath and forced her eyes open. She blinked once and then again to see Simon to her right, Peter on her left, with Zachariah behind him. At the foot of the bed stood Lance and Mrs. Wagner. “Hello,” she croaked. “Water, please?”
Mrs. Wagner bustled over to the small kitchen area and returned with a glass as Zachariah helped her sit up. She took a sip of water, sighing with pleasure as it eased the burning dryness in her throat. “Thank you.”
Reaching out, she gripped each of her son’s hands. “Why are you concerned? I am fine.” Her eyes fluttered closed a moment, and she forced them open again. “I’m merely tired.”
“You’ve been asleep for four days,” Lance said in a gruff tone. Her gaze met his, and she frowned in confusion.
“I don’t understand. Why would I be asleep for that long?” She tugged Simon to her, and he crawled onto the bed to lie beside her. Peter did the same, and she soon cradled both of her boys next to her. “What happened?”
Zachariah cleared his throat. “There was a fire. The ranch house burned.” He met her shocked stare. “Nothing is left.”
“What about the barn and paddock?” she whispered as she looked around, belatedly realizing she was not in her bedroom but in the bunkhouse.
“Saved,” Lance said. “Good to see you’ve recovered, Miss Eleanor.” He nodded at her and slipped from the room.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured. “How did the house burn?” She kissed her boys on their heads. “I don’t remember anything.”
Drifting from Deadwood: The Pioneer Brides of Rattlesnake Ridge, Book 6 Page 12
