Thimbles and Thistles: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Baker City Brides Book 2)

by Shanna Hatfield

  Jogging down the street through town, he saw Maggie jerk open her shop door and look around. She noticed him and started his direction so he ran over to her.

  “Did you just get back?” she asked, noting he wore a suit and carried a traveling bag in his hand.

  “I just stepped off the train when the blast hit. It could be a cave-in at one of the Covey mines. After I change, I plan to ride out there and see what happened.”

  Maggie grabbed his arm when he started to step away. “Please be careful. You don’t have to go, you know.”

  Ian brushed a hand along her smooth cheek and smiled. “Yes, I do. I couldn’t sit home when I could be there helping. I’ll be fine, lass. Don’t worry about me.”

  Maggie watched him run down the street then returned to her shop. The crystal beads she painstakingly embellished around flowers she’d embroidered along the hem and front of a skirt should have held her attention, but she couldn’t concentrate.

  Finally setting aside her stitching, she locked the front door and went up to her apartment. In times of tragedy, the one thing always needed was food. She would make Ian a hot meal, with plenty extra for anyone else who might be hungry. Tully was back in town and she had no doubt he’d be in the middle of whatever transpired at the mine.

  In the midst of cracking eggs into a bowl, a second blast shook the building so hard it nearly knocked her off her feet.

  The egg in her hand fell to the floor and she bit back a scream. She opened the window in the kitchen and stuck her head out, trying to see what happened. A second great puff of smoke rose into the air near one of the mines.

  Maggie pulled her head back inside the window and dropped to her knees, praying for the safety of the men at the mine.

  Determined not to let her fears and memories overwhelm her, she continued with dinner preparations. Someone rattled her front door as she pulled a chocolate cake from the oven. Quickly setting it on the counter, she raced down the stairs.

  Maggie opened the back door as Tully rounded the corner, heading toward her.

  “We need you!” He motioned for her to come with him.

  Swiftly shutting the door behind her, she hurried toward him and took in his dirt-caked face and filthy clothes. “Are you okay, Tully? What happened?”

  “A tunnel collapsed at one of the mines. The second blast was in the same tunnel after we started hauling out the debris to get the workers out.” Tully took her hand and led her down the street. The fast pace he set caused her to scurry to keep up. The urgency in his step made fear claw at her with agonizing pain.

  “Are the men okay? Did anyone… Is anybody…?” Maggie couldn’t bring herself to say the words although Tully knew what she meant.

  “No one died, Maggie. We got everyone out, although there were some injuries.” Tully turned down a side street and hurried Maggie up the steps at the doctor’s office.

  “Who’s hurt, Tully? Why did you bring me here? Does Doc need some help?” She asked as Tully opened the door.

  “No. It’s Ian. He got hurt and went a little loco. He insists on seeing you and won’t stop asking. Actually, it’s more like demanding to see you. I told Doc I’d bring you over to see if you can calm him down.”

  Maggie didn’t pay any attention to the waiting room full of dusty, dirty, injured men. Her only focus was on reaching Ian’s side.

  Tully took her to an examination room where two big men held Ian down on a table while the doctor attempted to stitch a nasty gash on his forehead.

  “Wanna see my lass Maggie,” Ian slurred. “Need… Maggie.” He struggled against the hands holding him down but lacked the strength to push them away.

  The sight of him, looking so pale and vulnerable on the table, softened her already tender heart. “I’m here, Ian. I’m right here.” Maggie stepped close to the table, next to Ian’s head. He turned to look at her with glazed eyes and relaxed.

  “Och, there’s me bonny lass.” Ian tried to reach for her hand but the men still held his arms down.

  Maggie nudged one of the men over and took Ian’s hand, holding it between her own. “You must calm yourself, Ian, and let the doctor sew up that cut on your head. Be a good lad and quiet down while he does what he needs to do.”

  “Only if ye’ll give me a kiss.” Ian’s cockeyed grin made her heart skip a beat. “I need me bonny lass to give a proper kiss.”

  Maggie glanced at the doctor. He shrugged and returned to stitching Ian’s wound. She rolled her eyes then bent down and planted a quick kiss to Ian’s cheek. “There. You’ve had a kiss and now you’ll do what the doctor says.”

  “Maggie, my love, that isn’t quite what I…” Ian passed out, from the pain or loss of blood she didn’t know.

  “Do you mind staying until I finish, Mrs. Dalton? He might get a little unruly if he wakes up and you aren’t here.”

  “I’m happy to stay, doctor.” Maggie held Ian’s hand while the doctor finished stitching the gash on his head before he moved on to a deep cut on his shoulder. Despite her efforts to keep her gaze on Ian’s face, it continued to roam over his bare chest. Her eyes drifted over defined muscles, broad shoulders, and a mole in the center of his stomach.

  As he slept, she studied the firm line of his jaw, the inviting shape of his lips, and the streaks sunlight had lightened into his hair. Ian MacGregor might be a charming tease, but he also happened to be an undeniably attractive man.

  Maggie admired his form as she would any beautiful work of art. Admired it, but knew she would never own it.

  Pensive, she held back a sigh as the doctor finished tending to Ian and moved on to some of his other patients. He asked her to keep watch over the injured Scotsman until he awoke.

  Reluctant to release his hand long enough to pull up a chair, she smiled as Tully checked in on her and carried a chair next to the table for her.

  “Doc said he asked you to stay with Ian. Will you be okay if I leave? There are others who need my help.” Tully stared from her to Ian’s still form, uncertain if he liked the way Maggie hovered at the injured man’s side.

  “I’m perfectly fine, Tully. Thank you for bringing me.” Maggie smiled up at him as he tipped his hat and disappeared down the hall.

  Not for the first time, Maggie wondered why Ian rarely wore a hat. He had one on earlier, when he’d stepped off the train, but he rarely wore one at the lumberyard and or when she’d seen him around town on errands or deliveries.

  Almost an hour passed before he awoke. Slowly, he opened his eyes and glanced around, disoriented. He started to sit up, but Maggie put a gentle hand to his shoulder and held him down.

  “Relax, Ian. No rush to move.” Maggie smiled at him, pleased when the foggy glaze in his eyes began to clear. It was similar to watching clouds roll away, leaving behind a pristine summer sky.

  “What happened?” he asked, focusing on her face, since it was the only familiar thing in his line of vision.

  “You went to help at the mine right after you arrived home from Portland. There was an explosion and you wanted to offer your assistance. I don’t know the particulars, but the doctor had to stitch up a cut on your forehead and another on your shoulder. You sustained a nasty concussion that the doctor has assured me will require a day or two of recovery time.” Maggie squeezed his hand, hoping to offer a bit of comfort.

  “That would explain why my head feels like it might explode and my ears are ringing with all the resounding racket and enthusiasm of church bells on Christmas Eve.”

  Maggie grinned and rose to her feet, picking up a glass of water Doc left for Ian. Carefully, she held it to his lips. Ian raised his head and took a few sips then dropped his head back to the table and closed his eyes.

  Uncertain what to do, she started to sit in the chair again but Ian’s eyes popped open and darted around the room, overwrought.

  When his gaze settled on her, he appeared even more upset. “Maggie, go get Doc. Please?”

  She placed a cool hand against his hot cheek. “Wha
t is it, Ian? What’s wrong?”

  “Just get…” He clamped his mouth shut and raised his hand, pointing toward the door.

  Doc told her Ian might wake up nauseous. She assumed that was his current problem. Lifting a pail Doc left on the floor, Maggie started to hold it for Ian, but he snatched it out of her hands and glared at her. “Go!”

  She walked over to the door, but stayed in the room, unwilling to leave him alone, despite his surly attitude.

  When all behind her quieted, she turned around. Ian sat up, holding the pail with one hand and his head with the other.

  She rushed down the hall and caught Tully’s eye as he helped another injured miner inside the waiting area.

  Once he had the miner seated on a chair, Tully hurried to her side. “Are you ready to go home, Mags?”

  “No, Tully. The doctor needs to check on Ian. He started vomiting and his skin is a ghastly shade of white. I didn’t think anyone would appreciate me barging right in one of the other examination rooms to find Doc.”

  Tully grinned. “No, they wouldn’t. Go stay with Ian and I’ll find him.”

  Maggie returned to the room where Ian continued to retch while Tully located the doctor.

  The harried man rushed into the room and shined a light into Ian’s eyes. “As long as someone stays with him and wakes him up at regular intervals to make sure he remains coherent, he can go home.”

  After the doctor left the room, Ian looked at Tully. “Might you be good enough to see me home, Sheriff? I can take care of myself from there.”

  Maggie planted her hands on her hips and glared at the stubborn lumberman. “I do believe your ears are ringing so loudly you can’t hear, Ian. The doctor clearly stated you need someone to stay with you. You aren’t going home alone. In fact, I think you should come to my apartment. I have dinner in the oven, if it isn’t burnt beyond eating by now. Tully, bring him along and I’ll feed you before you head back out to do whatever you need to see to.”

  “Maggie, I’m not gonna…” Ian released a sigh as she breezed out the door and left him at Tully’s mercy. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into helping me to my house?”

  “Nope. Maggie would flog me if I don’t follow her orders. Let’s get your shirt on and see if you can walk.” Tully helped Ian slip on his shirt and button it. By the time they finished, a fine sheen of perspiration coated Ian’s face.

  Ian took a deep breath and slid off the table. His legs felt as weak as a newborn colt’s when he took a few wobbling steps. Before he bounced his injured shoulder off the wall with his unsteady gait, Tully stepped beneath Ian’s uninjured arm. He settled an arm around his waist, guiding him out the door. “Lean on me, I’ve got you.”

  Ian offered the man a derisive snort. “I’m every bit as big as you, Sheriff, and then some. If I start to fall, save yourself.”

  Tully chuckled and helped Ian out the door and down the steps to the street. He cut through an alley and across the boarding house lawn to save both steps and time. Soon, they stood at Maggie’s back door. Tully opened it and shook his head as he slowly helped Ian up the stairs.

  He had no doubt it would take more help than he could provide to get the injured man down them again before morning, if his labored breathing and ashen skin were any indication. Maggie should have let the poor man go home.

  “Mags?” Tully called as they neared the top of the stairs. “Where do you want him?”

  “Put him in the spare room. I already turned back the covers on the bed,” Maggie called from the kitchen.

  Tully helped Ian shuffle down the hall and into a small, simple bedroom with a full-sized bed, a dresser, and a rocking chair.

  “I don’t want to get her clean sheets filthy. I can rest on the floor.” Ian started to sink down, but Tully refused, keeping him upright.

  “Here’s some hot water and a towel.” Maggie breezed into the room and set the things on the dresser. “If you wash off the worst of it, he’ll rest more comfortably.”

  “I ain’t giving him a bath, Mags! I’m not some nursemaid, especially to this big galoot,” Tully called after her.

  “There’s something on which we can both agree,” Ian mumbled as he unbuttoned his shirt and steadied himself by holding onto the dresser. He carefully sponged what he could reach with his good hand since it made pain blaze across his shoulder to move the other.

  “Give me that.” Tully snatched the towel from Ian and wiped away the dust and blood, ran it over the back of the man’s head, and tossed it on the dresser. “Sit on the edge of the bed and I’ll help you get your boots off.”

  “I still don’t think…” Ian felt woozy and clenched his jaw to keep from throwing up again.

  “Sit!” Tully barked the order. He yanked off Ian’s boots and socks then waited while Ian shucked his pants. He helped him scoot back in the bed and tugged the sheet and a blanket over him. Maggie returned to collect the dirty towel, leaving behind a fresh one as well as a bucket for Ian.

  “Thank you, Sheriff. Your help is appreciated.” Ian’s words began to slur and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  Tully wasn’t sure if Ian passed out or slept, but decided a few minutes of rest couldn’t hurt the injured man.

  He closed the bedroom door behind him and went to the kitchen where Maggie sliced bread and buttered it.

  “The dinner I had planned turned to over-cooked mush, so we’re having chicken soup instead of baked chicken with vegetables.” She dished up two bowls of soup while Tully washed his hands and face.

  He waited for her to take a seat at the table before he joined her and bowed his head, offering thanks for the meal.

  Tully took a bite of his soup then glanced out the window in the direction of the mine. “I shouldn’t be here taking a break when others are still digging men out of the mine.”

  Maggie scowled. “How much good would you be to anyone if you’re dead on your feet and half-starved? You need to keep up your strength.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Who am I to argue when the mighty Maggie has spoken?” Tully grinned and returned to shoveling in his food.

  “You’ll give yourself indigestion if you keep eating so fast. Slow down.”

  Tully lifted his head and stared at her. “You sound like a mother, or worse, a nagging wife.”

  Her gaze narrowed while her frown deepened. “There’s no call to toss out insults. I’m only trying to help.”

  “I know, Maggie, girl.” Tully reached out and patted her hand before he returned to eating his dinner. “However, I think it would have been better to take Ian home. I could have found someone to keep an eye on him.”

  “It appears to me that there aren’t too many extra hands available with all the wounded men trickling into town needing care. I’m perfectly capable of keeping an eye on Ian for the evening.” Maggie refilled Tully’s bowl and offered him more bread.

  He nodded his head in thanks, dipping the bread into his soup and taking a big bite. After he swallowed, he studied her for a long moment. “I’m more concerned about your reputation, Mags. It isn’t proper for you to have a man in your apartment, especially without a chaperone.”

  Maggie laughed. “It’s not like Ian can do anything. It’s perfectly fine. Besides, it would be different if I wasn’t a widow.”

  “It isn’t different, Maggie. In fact, people tend to talk more about the widows than the single girls, expecting them to do something they shouldn’t.” Tully gave her a pointed look. “I don’t want anything to happen that would make things difficult for you.”

  A sigh escaped her as Maggie leaned back in her chair. “In case you haven’t noticed, Tully, life is difficult. It’s incredibly painful and unbelievably difficult at times, especially if we don’t help each other when it’s most needed. If a few gossiping old biddies find something wicked in me providing assistance to an injured man, then so be it.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

  Maggie picked up her soupspoon and resumed eating,
ignoring Tully’s comment. He was right, of course. When she rashly decided to take care of Ian, what other people would say didn’t cross her mind. Even if she had considered the impropriety of the situation, she still would have wanted to take care of him.

  Tully finished eating, checked on Ian, kissed Maggie’s cheek, and told her he’d be back as soon as he could. His footsteps echoed throughout her apartment as he clattered down the steps and out the back door.

  Maggie washed the dishes and dried them, stored the leftover soup in her icebox, and decided she should wake Ian.

  Quietly opening the door to his room, she carried in a lamp and set it on the dresser before turning back to him and gently shaking his arm.

  “Ian? Time to wake up.” She shook him again. “Ian?”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her. “Maggie? What are you doing here?”

  “You’re in my apartment. You were injured in a mining accident earlier this afternoon. The doctor didn’t want you to go home alone, so Tully brought you here. Periodically, I’m supposed to wake you to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine, lass. In fact, it’s probably best, since I’m awake, if I go on home.” Ian sat up in bed, but the motion made his head pound and stomach churn so he lay back down and let out a frustrated breath. “Or maybe I’ll rest awhile.”

  Unable to hide her grin, Maggie turned down the wick in the lamp so it glowed dimly then moved to the door. “You do that. I’ll check on you soon.”

  For the next three hours, she awoke Ian every thirty minutes. Each time, he seemed to be more like himself.

  The last time she woke him, she made him drink some ginger tea she brewed to help with the pain in his head. Begrudgingly, he drank it then fell asleep, looking more peaceful than he had since he sustained the injury.

  Maggie retrieved the dress she’d been embellishing when the first explosion shattered the afternoon’s silence. She turned up the wick of the lamp and sat in the rocking chair in his room, sewing and thinking while Ian slept.

  When he mumbled and started to toss in his sleep, she set aside her project and picked up a damp cloth. Carefully wiping it across his brow, she avoided the stitches bisecting the creases in his forehead. She trailed the cloth along his cheeks and jaw then over his chest.