by Deb Stover
Blinking several times, he cleared his throat and rose from his seat at the round table near the back door. The few hours he'd slept had been fraught with nightmares of running for his life until he couldn't take another step. And the ending was always the same.
The electric chair.
After thrashing around until he'd awakened drenched with perspiration, he abandoned all hope of real rest. Besides, since he'd been trying to sleep in the front room with the patients, he'd heard Dr. Wilson informing more than one family that their loved ones had died during the night. That dedicated man never seemed to sleep.
Father Salazar had done his duty, performing last rites for one young man, while praying over half a dozen who were beyond that. Luke was repaying the dead priest's kindness to him with interest.
No, not really. Father Salazar had believed in Luke's innocence, and nothing could repay that.
"Careful you don't break the yolks this time, Dora," Mrs. Fleming said as she came back through the kitchen door.
She paused and shook her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Oh, Father, I just can't believe we lost so many more patients in one night."
"Yeah, I know." Luke reached up to rake his fingers through his non-existent hair, grimacing from the pain of his fried scalp instead. What the hell was he doing here?
Then the door opened to the room off the kitchen and Sofie paused in the doorway, staring at him. She looked beautiful. Luke's breath froze as his gaze drifted down the length of her and back again. Shiny black hair curled in spirals around her small face, and her eyes seemed even larger and bluer than–
The bruise on her temple had spread, and now included half her face, including one eye. Regret slashed through him, as he remembered those blue eyes looking up at him yesterday, begging for help.
He'd almost left her to die.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he remembered that he was free, that they were stranded together in another century, and that she had no memory of the past. She was lost, while he was celebrating a new beginning. He had no regrets about helping her. Not anymore.
"You look lovely," he said, reminding himself that they all considered him a priest, regardless of his thoughts and desires. "I hope you slept well." In his mind, he saw her asleep last night with her full, firm breast half-exposed to his gaze. The mental image knifed through him.
Straight to his groin.
"Yes," she said, still staring at him. "I...for a moment, I..."
"Are you all right, Sofie?" Mrs. Fleming went to her side and took her arm. "You aren't dizzy, are you? Dr. Wilson said to watch for that."
"No, I just..." Her gaze riveted to Luke, she slowly shook her head. "Nothing. It couldn't be. For a moment, I thought I remembered something."
His heart hammered his ribs and he held his breath. God, please don't let her remember. At least, not yet. Luke managed a weak smile and, finally, a breath. "Maybe your memory will come back a little at a time," he said, though in truth he hoped she never remembered everything. That made him selfish and small, but there it was.
"Maybe." Sofie visibly shook herself and dragged her gaze from Luke. "Dora, thank you for lending me this dress. I'll return it after I've washed my own clothes."
Mrs. Fleming made a sound of open disapproval. "Sofie, those rags–"
"Are all I have of my own," Sofie said. "You've been very kind, Mrs. Fleming, but I hope to regain my memory and my life as soon as possible. I don't wish to be a burden to anyone." She shrugged and sighed. "I'm not even sure where we are."
"High in the Rocky Mountains," Luke said, trying not to remember the day Warden Graham and company had escorted him up to the new facility. "Somewhere near the continental divide, I think."
"Redemption is part of the Cripple Creek Mining District," Dora said, lifting pieces of bacon from the skillet with a fork. "So the Miners here stake their claims and such over to Cripple Creek. Assayer is there, too."
"A city of sin." Mrs. Fleming filled a plate with bacon and steaming biscuits, then held it while Dora ladled out a hefty serving of eggs. "I'll just take this out to Dr. Wilson, and stand there until he eats every bite."
Luke tried not to look at Sofie. She seemed so vulnerable in the oversized gray dress. It swallowed her, made her appear even smaller and more fragile than before. Then he noticed her worn leather hiking boots peeking out from beneath the long dress, and he smiled. Really smiled.
"Cripple Creek," Sofie said. "I wonder why that sounds familiar."
Was she from that infamous mountain town? But most people knew about Cripple Creek, even if they'd never been there. The tune to "Up on Cripple Creek" raced through Luke's mind. Of course it sounded famliar to her.
In fact, he remembered visiting the historic mining town with his grandparents the summer he turned twelve. He'd found the old buildings and living history fascinating then, but the stories of huge gold strikes had been more than compelling. Age appropriate, no doubt.
But even at twenty-nine, Luke's palms turned sweaty and his heart rate surged. Could he walk into the mountains now and stake a claim? Might he find a fortune in gold lying just beneath the earth's surface?
Did it matter? Would it change anything?
No, freedom and life were more important. He sighed. Money was merely a means to an end. Of course, train tickets would cost money, and the few dollars in Father Salazar's wallet wouldn't take him far. And he should make sure Sofie had some money, too. Then he remembered that all currency carried a date.
The Denver Mint would have a fit.
Luke caught himself smiling again. That was twice in one morning.
He looked at Sofie as she set plates and silverware on the table. She was so quiet. Why? Was she trying to remember something?
Like seeing him in the electric chair?
The back door opened and Ab shuffled inside, wiping his feet on the mat. "Mornin'," he muttered.
"You're just in time for breakfast, Ab," Dora called over her shoulder, broadcasting a brilliant smile. "As usual."
"Mornin', Miss Dora. Mrs. Fleming." Ab blushed and ducked his head. "Dr. Wilson said he reckons he'll be tied up all day, but to send for him if need be." The short, stocky man looked at Sofie and his face reddened even more beneath his beard. "He said for Miss Dr. Sofie to handle things here until he finishes out at Zeke's place."
"Miss Dr. Sofie?" Mrs. Fleming looked at Sofie and smiled. "I'm going out there now. What shall I tell him?" The woman tied a cape beneath her chin, then lifted the heavy tray. "Can you handle things by yourself for a while?"
Sofie's face paled and her hand trembled as she brought it to her cheek. "Tell him that's fine," she said, though her eyes revealed her uncertainty.
"Very well." Mrs. Fleming nodded in open approval. "I'll be back a little later. Dora, show Sofie where everything is if she has questions."
"Yes, Mother."
"Frank Latimer was first in line for his inoculation," Ab offered, his tone reserved.
"What?" Mrs. Fleming looked back, her eyes wide. "That horrible man?"
"Come for his rightful share of the serum, he said." Ab shrugged.
Mrs. Fleming's nostrils flared and she squared her shoulders. "The world would be better off if he'd died and his brother's widow had been spared."
Confused, Luke looked around the room, trying to digest all the names and information. Frank Latimer was obviously not well- liked.
"That reminds me, Sofie, I almost forgot that we need to talk to Jenny this morning," Mrs. Fleming said. "I'll come back after–"
"Latimer was askin' about the girl, too," Ab said, looking downward as he spoke. "Said he'd raise his kin."
"Over my dead body." Mrs. Fleming's lips thinned and her eyes snapped. She drew a deep breath, then said, "Jenny Latimer would be better off dead than living with the likes of him, uncle or no uncle."
"I reckon. Seem's he's concerned 'bout Charlie's mine." Ab appeared apologetic. "He also asked about the boy–wanted to know when the hangin's sup
posed to take place."
Hanging? Luke's blood turned to ice as he recalled the kid in the jail. Young and sentenced to die...
Like me.
"That horrible event should never take place," Mrs. Fleming said. Then without another word, she took her tray and waited for Ab to open the door for her. She left without even glancing back.
Dora placed a platter of bacon and another of eggs on the table. "Better wash up, Ab," she said, her expression grim. She shook her head. "I still can't believe they plan to hang that boy."
"That boy killed a man, Miss Dora." Ab's tone was gentle as he crossed the room to a pitcher and bowl near the huge wood burning stove. "In these parts, the law takes an eye for an eye."
Luke's mouth went dry and he looked at Sofie's furrowed brow. The expression in her eyes was pure confusion as she met his gaze.
Don't remember yet, Sofie. Please, not yet.
"That man needed killing." Dora slammed the pan of biscuits onto the table and poured steaming coffee into cups.
"I reckon that's a fact." Ab sat at the table and tucked his napkin into his collar.
Luke didn't protest as Dora forked enough bacon onto his plate to send his cholesterol into orbit. A pair of eggs, sunnyside up, slid onto his plate alongside the bacon, everything shining with bacon grease.
His mouth watered in anticipation, though his mind kept replaying Dora's words. That man needed killing.
Luke hadn't killed anyone and had been sent to the electric chair. The boy in Redemption's jail had apparently killed someone deserving of such a fate, and he would hang.
Justice, my ass.
He looked up and met Sofie's gaze again. She looked quickly away. Still staring at me, Sofie? Was her memory returning? Maybe he should revise his plans and leave today, after all. But what would happen to her after he left Redemption?
"The man Shane Latimer supposedly killed was low and mean." Dora sat at the table with a huff, snapping her napkin before placing it in her lap. "Mother and I saw what he did to his wife. Twice."
"Miss Dora," Ab said quietly, pausing with his fork in mid-air, "the boy killed his own pa."
Sofie gasped, but all Luke could think of was the phone call his grandmother had made to the prison, informing him of his grandfather's death.
You killed your grandpa with shame, Luke Nolan. Shame...
Chapter 6
Gently, Sofie unwrapped the burned man's bandages. Dr. Wilson had managed to scrounge up enough laudanum to put the man into a semi-conscious state. Thank God. The last thing Sofie wanted was to cause any of the patients additional pain with her bumbling attempts at playing doctor.
But she had no choice. Dr. Wilson's instructions had been explicit. They had to change the bandages twice a day, but he was still busy with the inoculations. If she didn't change them, the cloth could adhere to the man's burns and cause him even greater misery.
If only Father Salazar were here. She sighed softly, knowing she had to stop looking for his support. Someday, she hoped, fate would return her to the life she'd left behind. Then she wouldn't have Father Salazar's reassuring presence in her life anymore.
Besides, he had his own horrendous responsibilities in this epidemic. The poor man had gone to officiate over more funerals, including one for Jenny's mother.
Sofie glanced toward Jenny, wondering when Mrs. Fleming would return to speak to the child. The expression on the girl's face when she'd clutched her mother's nightgown to her cheek ate away at Sofie. This was so unfair.
Her patient groaned, dragging her attention back to her task. Concentrate, Sofie. Be careful. Don't hurt him. She hated this, because she simply didn't know what she was doing. Dr. Sofie was incompetent at best.
Carefully, she cut away a soiled bandage and applied the special salve Dr. Wilson had prepared. Please don't let him wake up now. She paused. The salve's pungent aroma triggered an image in Sofie's mind. A memory? A dark-haired woman bending over her, pressing her cool hand to Sofie's forehead...
"Mother?" she whispered. Sofie's throat convulsed and perspiration coated her face and neck. The woman had to be her mother. "Mother?" she repeated, earning yet another groan from her patient. "I'm sorry."
Wincing in remorse, she jerked her attention back to the present, trying not to look at the man's wounds any more than absolutely necessary. Her stomach felt queasy every time she came near him, though his injuries certainly weren't his fault. Some caring medical professional she was turning out to be. More guilt. Despite her memory loss, Sofie had learned she was good at guilt. Gifted even.
With a sigh, she completed her task and rose, but the man's hand snaked out to grab her wrist. His eyes were open and wild, glazed with pain, drugs, and something else. Something undefinable. Terror rippled through her and a scream froze in her throat, her gaze imprisoned by his maniacal one.
Screaming is not allowed, Dr. Sofie. This was a hospital and this man was seriously injured. He was probably as frightened as she.
"It's all right," she said soothingly, fighting the tremor in her voice. "I'm here to help you. Go back to sleep now. Rest."
The man blinked once. Twice. Then his eyes closed and his fingers relaxed around her wrist. Sofie quickly retreated with the basket of soiled bandages.
Her heart pounded as she made her way to the kitchen to dispose of the soiled mess. Dr. Wilson had left instructions that they were to be burned, so she opened the stove and used a long stick to shove them onto the hot embers until greedy flames devoured the strips.
After closing the door, she washed her hands thoroughly, trying to remember how and why she knew that was necessary. But she didn't know why, and it didn't matter why. Cleanliness was necessary around the sick, and that was that.
Again, she saw the woman's face, hovering over her with worry etched across her brow. She had dark hair like Sofie's, and her eyes were blue. The woman had to be Sofie's mother, or a close relative. Didn't she?
"Damn."
"Sofie." The sound of Mrs. Fleming's voice sliced through Sofie's reverie. "Such language." Shaking her head and frowning, the woman stepped into the kitchen and closed the back door behind her.
More guilt. Why didn't the word "damn" seem wrong to Sofie? What kind of woman was she? "I'm sorry."
"Well, you've been through a great deal, but such language from a lady, well..." Mrs. Fleming's cheeks reddened. "Perhaps the...the soiled doves at Miss Lottie's House of Ill Repute, but not you, Sofie. After all, you're a woman with an education, which must mean a proper upbringing."
An education and a proper upbringing again? It must be true, Sofie decided as she dried her hands and paused before Mrs. Fleming. The expression in the woman's eyes reminded Sofie of something more important than her education or questionable upbringing. "You're going to tell Jenny now, aren't you?"
"Yes, right away." Mrs. Fleming untied her bonnet and hung it on a nail near the back door. "Her uncle is making a lot of noise about taking her away, though he won't dare come here until the epidemic is over, thank heavens."
"But she's getting so much better...."
The older woman nodded. "And she won't always have this epidemic to protect her." A bitter laugh left Mrs. Fleming's lips. "Amazing to consider this horrible epidemic as a shelter for that sweet little girl."
"The same epidemic that killed her mother." Sofie's lower lip trembled and tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back, determined to be brave for Jenny. "Well, we'd better talk to her now then."
"Yes." Mrs. Fleming washed her hands, tied her apron around her waist, then pushed open the kitchen door. "Let's get on with it."
Sofie followed behind Mrs. Fleming until they reached Jenny. Then she stepped around to stand beside the older woman, determined to follow through with her promise to the child. She only wished she had better news.
"Hello, Jenny," Mrs. Fleming said, kneeling beside the cot. "How are you feeling today, child?"
Sofie didn't need a reminder of what a good person Mrs. Fleming was, but no
w she knew the woman was meant for nothing less than sainthood.
"Better." Jenny looked up at them with big brown eyes. "Where's my mama?"
Sofie knelt beside Mrs. Fleming and took Jenny's hand while the older woman stroked strands of blond hair away from the girl's eyes.
"Your mama was real sick, honey," Mrs. Fleming said quietly, soothingly. "She tried real hard to get well, and she asked after you all the time."
Jenny jerked her gaze away from them and stared up at the ceiling. "Mama's dead." No tears fell from her eyes, though they glittered threateningly.
"Yes." Mrs. Fleming gathered Jenny in her arms, and peered up at Sofie through the child's tangled hair.
Tears spilled from Sofie's eyes and she reached down to touch Jenny's shoulder. Sofie's heart pressed upward against her throat and she knew her own agonizing pain couldn't possibly equal this little girl's. Children should never have to hurt this way.
This was wrong and cruel and... Sofie bit her lower lip as tears soaked her face.
Then she remembered what Ab had said at breakfast. "That boy killed his own pa...." Jenny was truly alone. Both her parents were dead, and her brother had been sentenced to hang.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Sofie saw the dark-haired woman again. Though the murmuring she heard was only Mrs. Fleming speaking to Jenny, the face she saw was her mother's. She knew it.
The vision spoke, and Sofie heard the words clearly. Undeniably.
"Your daddy's gone to sleep, sweetheart," her dream mother said, pressing her cool cheek against Sofie's. "He won't ever wake up this time, but at least he won't hurt anymore."
Sofie opened her eyes after the image vanished. Her father had died, too. "Daddy," she whispered, knowing somehow that she'd been very young when tragedy struck her family. My family. If only she could remember her last name, then she could go to her mother.
She could go home, where she belonged.
