by Jody Hedlund
“Where is he?”
Mr. Peabody nodded at an open doorway. “His bedroom is the room across from the kitchen.”
She started down the hallway, desperation pushing her. She had to be with him, couldn’t let him die, couldn’t bear the thought that he’d only just come into her life again and now she might lose him.
“Wait, mademoiselle.” Mr. Peabody hurried after her. “I should prepare you first.”
“Will he live?” Heedless of the other men watching, she stopped in her tracks and grabbed the housekeeper’s arm. “Please tell me he’ll live.”
He shook his head and wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry. He’s dying.”
TEN
KATE’S HEARTBEAT THUNDERED against her rib cage, and fear rose up to choke her. “No.” She lurched forward. “No, I won’t let him die.”
“Wait.” The urgency in Mr. Peabody’s voice trailed close behind her.
Zeke couldn’t die. Not yet. Not without making peace with God. She had to talk to him, try to make him understand reason.
She burst into the bedroom and stopped short. A gasp escaped even as her fingers rose to try to catch it. There, upon his bed, Zeke was laid out facedown, completely unclothed, his bare backside visible.
For several long seconds she could only stare, fascinated, never having seen such a sight before. Then embarrassment hit her. He was naked, and she shouldn’t look. Doing so was completely indecent, even at a time like this. She quickly looked away, even as the doctor paused in surprise, and Mr. Peabody bustled past, muttering his disapproval and grabbing the sheet dangling off the end of the bed.
But it was too late. The image of Zeke’s backside was seared into Kate’s mind, and no amount of covering or clothing would be able to make it disappear. A firm and muscular body. One that was much too attractive. Even with the multiple abrasions and bandages.
“Why is Miss Millington in the room?” The doctor scowled as he resumed wrapping a cloth around Zeke’s head.
“She’s Zeke’s fiancée.” Mr. Peabody jerked the cover up. “In other words, she’s the woman he’s intending to marry.”
Kate started to protest, but as she lifted her eyes and caught sight of Zeke’s body again, words failed her.
“I’m quite aware of what the word fiancée means.” The doctor snipped the bandage with a small pair of steel scissors. “But I don’t care if she’s the queen of England. She shouldn’t be in here.”
“She’s here to say good-bye.” Mr. Peabody finished tugging the sheet up to Zeke’s shoulders.
The doctor glared at the housekeeper. “Mr. Hart is not dying.”
“He’s not?” she asked at the same time as Mr. Peabody, hope and relief springing to life inside her.
“He has a concussion, broken leg, and some painful burns. But he’ll live.”
“You told me to start making preparations,” Mr. Peabody said.
“Preparations for his care, not for his death,” the doctor retorted irritably. “He won’t be getting out of this bed for quite some time and will need assistance all hours of the day and night.”
Mr. Peabody grabbed onto the bedpost, his body sagging and his knees buckling. Kate was at his side in an instant, propping him up.
“You’re sure he’s not dying?” Mr. Peabody’s eyes once again watered.
“I’m positive.” The doctor packed his items into the leather satchel on the bedside table. “But he won’t be able to do anything by himself, not until his body has the chance to heal. That is why I suggested you begin to make preparations, to see that he has the assistance he’ll need at all times.”
“I live here and can take care of him.” Mr. Peabody pulled himself up. Even so, Kate kept a firm hold on his arm, needing his steadiness perhaps more than he needed hers.
“That may well be, but I suggest you hire another caregiver who can assist during those times you’re indisposed. When he awakens from his concussion, he’ll be in a great deal of pain.”
“My grandson, Wendell, will fill in when I’m not able to be here.”
“No.” Wendell stood in the doorway, wiping his glasses and still breathing hard from the run through town. “I can’t be tied down. Zeke would want me to continue to manage his accounts as well as to investigate the explosion.”
“I’ll help,” Kate offered.
The doctor shook his head. “I recommend only married women or widows serve as nurses.”
The picture of Zeke’s bare backside flashed through her mind, and she flushed just thinking about seeing him like that again. The doctor was right. It wouldn’t be proper for a single young woman like her. Nevertheless, she wanted to help Zeke. It was the least she could do for him as an old family friend.
“Mr. Peabody can take care of Zeke’s personal needs,” Kate persisted, “and I’ll be here to assist in other ways.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Peabody said.
“Mr. Chung can’t abide having me working in the laundry and is putting up with me for Becca’s sake. He’d rejoice to have me gone.”
“Then it’s settled.” Mr. Peabody beamed. “Besides, do we know of any married women or widows anywhere in the area who would be able to put their lives on hold to come here?”
The doctor listed several women, but Mr. Peabody had an excuse for each one. Finally, the doctor threw his hands up. “Don’t blame me if Miss Millington’s reputation is tarnished as a result of this arrangement.”
“Have no fear, Doctor.” Mr. Peabody smiled for the first time since Kate’s arrival. “If I see even the slightest questionable behavior, I’ll send word to the preacher and have these two married before you can blink an eye.”
“Perhaps we ought to see them married right away.”
“No,” Kate said hurriedly, and perhaps a bit too forcefully. She offered a smile—one she hoped hid the sudden assault against her nerves. She couldn’t let the doctor go on believing she was Zeke’s fiancée, especially when there was no hope of a future together. “There’s no reason to rush into anything, as I’m not intending to marry Zeke—”
The doctor’s brows furrowed into an expression of protest.
“That is, I’m not intending to marry him soon.” Not at all. But she couldn’t force those words out.
The doctor studied her face before he turned to Mr. Peabody. “I’ll expect you to oversee this arrangement very closely.”
“Of course, monsieur. I shall do my best to ensure just the right outcome.”
Right outcome? As she took in Mr. Peabody’s suddenly eager expression, Kate couldn’t keep from wondering if she was making a huge mistake. But, just as quickly as the thought came, she shook it off. Mr. Peabody simply cared about Zeke and wanted the best for him.
Together they’d work to nurture Zeke back to health. And once he was recovered, she’d return to her quest of finding a husband.
The doctor rattled off a long list of instructions as well as supplies for Zeke’s burns and lacerations. Then he spoke to the men waiting in the hallway, informing them of Zeke’s condition.
Once they’d all taken their leave, Wendell filled Kate in on all that had transpired leading up to the explosion, and she learned that Zeke not only owned several businesses in town, but he also had a prosperous mine.
“Phil said Zeke saved his life,” Wendell finished gravely. “If not for Zeke seeing the fuse and pushing them out of the way, the chance they’d both be dead ranges between fifty to eighty percent.”
Zeke had taken the brunt of the explosion in protecting his foreman, who had suffered only a mild concussion, a few cracked ribs, and burns on his hands. While Zeke had been heroic to put Phil’s well-being ahead of his own, Kate’s chest still pinched.
Zeke had almost died.
She brushed a strand of dark hair off his temple. Even in his state of unconsciousness, his features were taut with pain, and she wished she could do something to ease his discomfort.
“You need to catch the culprit, Wendell,” Mr. Peabody said from t
he opposite side of the bed, where he was picking up Zeke’s blood-soaked garments from the floor. “First the store. Now, this. The person responsible for the trouble must pay for his crimes.”
“I will catch him. You can count on me.”
“Good boy.”
“Do you think Herbert Frank is behind everything?” Kate asked the question that had formulated while Wendell had been speaking.
Wendell used his forefinger to slide his spectacles up his nose. “I’m graphing a chart of possible suspects, and so far, he’s in the lead.”
“Maybe I should confront Mr. Frank.” If he was behind the trouble, then she was mortified she’d ever considered marrying him.
Wendell shook his head. “For now, I suggest remaining silent on the matter. If the suspect thinks he’s getting away with the crimes, he won’t work as hard to cover his trail.”
Kate brushed another lock of Zeke’s hair back. Wendell’s advice made sense. In the meantime, she would pray Zeke wouldn’t come to any more harm.
Zeke thrashed and moaned in his unconsciousness. The doctor had formed a temporary splint on his tibia to allow for the swelling to go down before making a cast. But Zeke’s restlessness only caused more agony.
Kate hadn’t wanted to leave Zeke’s side, hoping to be there when he awoke. But after the remainder of the night and a full day with no change in his condition, she’d allowed Mr. Peabody to convince her to go home and sleep.
When she stumbled, exhausted, into the laundry at dusk, Becca thumped the iron down and whirled upon Kate. “What’s this I hear about you walking in on Mr. Hart while he in the nude?”
Kate stopped short, fresh embarrassment slapping her full in the face.
Mr. Chung, in the process of ironing a pair of trousers, didn’t pause, not even to blink, which told Kate, that not only had word spread around town regarding Zeke’s near-death experience, but every detail of her time at his house spread as well.
Who was giving out such private information? Had the doctor decided to tell everyone? Or the miners in the hallway? Did they think her experience walking into the bedroom and finding Zeke bare was newsworthy?
“I see.” Becca’s eyes narrowed upon Kate’s face, which apparently revealed every one of her thoughts. “Guess that part about you being engaged to Mr. Hart is true, too?”
“No, of course it’s not—”
“It better be real soon, Miss Kate.” The concern in Becca’s expression softened the chastisement.
Kate rubbed a hand over her eyes. She was trying to maintain a proper relationship with Zeke and didn’t want to get involved with a man she couldn’t marry. But every turn she made only seemed to push them closer together.
Would it be better to cut herself off completely and not see him again? At that prospect, her muscles tightened in protest. They had agreed to remain friends, hadn’t they? Besides, she feared she was partly—if not mostly—to blame for the state he was in. And Mr. Peabody couldn’t take care of Zeke by himself and needed her assistance.
“Don’t take much to see you fallin’ for him. What with all those pictures you been drawing of him.”
“Everyone knows about my sketches, too?”
“Just me. You left that book wide open last night after you gone off.”
“I guess I need to stop drawing him, don’t I?”
“Or you just go on and get married to him. Then I can quit worrying about you every waking moment.”
“I’m sorry, Becca. I didn’t mean to worry you. You probably wish you’d never met me.”
“Don’t you go thinking that, Miss Kate. The good Lord put you in my path, and I aim to watch over you best I can, and that includes not lettin’ any man take advantage of your sweetness.”
The sincerity and love in Becca’s eyes melted Kate’s resistance. She crossed to the dear woman and threw her arms around her in a hug. “I’m so glad God brought us together.”
Becca stood stiffly, having already told Kate several times she didn’t like hugs. Nevertheless, Kate wrapped her tight, and a few seconds later Becca’s arms slipped around Kate to return the embrace.
“I’ll be more careful,” Kate whispered. “I promise.”
Becca only sighed.
ELEVEN
FLAMES DANCED ACROSS Zeke’s back, twirling and spinning and burning. He wanted to scream at the torture, but the sound stuck in his throat, suffocating him. He had no way out and no one to help him.
Where was he?
He tried to think, tried to figure out how to get away. Had he died? Was he in the afterlife? In a place of torment?
“Hang in there, son,” came a kind voice from above him. “You’ll make it. I’ll do everything I can to make sure of that.”
Son? Was his father here?
The flaming torture flared again, and this time a sound slipped out of his mouth.
Gentle fingers shifted him to his side, lifted his head, and pressed something cool to his mouth. Liquid poured in, but his head was raised at an odd angle, and half of it dribbled out.
“There you are,” the voice said again.
Zeke pried open his eyes and squinted. The bald head and fleshy face with the long mustache and goatee didn’t belong to his father. His father had never spoken kindly or been there for him. Fact was, his father had always been the one inflicting pain, not saving him from it.
“Mr. Peabody?” Zeke’s voice came out a rasp, as though he’d swallowed gravel.
“I’m here.”
Zeke tried to stretch out a hand toward the sound of the voice, but he couldn’t make his arm work.
Mr. Peabody’s fingers wrapped around his hand and squeezed him securely. “I’m here, son. I’m here.”
Zeke released a breath. Even though blackness moved in and threatened to swallow him, he no longer felt alone.
Zeke watched the flames pouring out the mill windows and spiraling high into the sky. Black smoke plumed with the faint echo of screams. Had someone been inside when the fire started? He tossed down his ale and bolted upright only to have one of his friends hold him back.
The group of men around him didn’t move. They only stared at the fire and continued drinking.
“Someone’s inside.” Zeke tried to shrug off Chuck. “I heard screams.”
His friend’s grip tightened. “The place is empty. You’re drunk and you’re just hearing things.”
Zeke replayed the scene from several hours earlier when he’d gone to his supervisor inside the mill and begged to have his job back as a power-loom weaver. But Mr. Shelburne had insisted he had only enough cotton for the handful of workers he’d kept on.
Zeke had walked away angry, accusing his supervisor of playing favorites with his family and friends, leaving the rest of them to starve to death.
Another chilling scream came from the window, louder than the last.
“The place isn’t empty.” Zeke wrestled against Chuck. They needed to go over and put out the fire—or at least rescue anyone left inside.
“And how would you know?” Chuck asked.
Zeke tore his attention from the flames and only then noticed the accusation in the faces around him. They were all union members. They all acted together. And no one dared to do anything without consulting the other members.
But Zeke had gone by himself when he’d returned to the mill. And he’d done it without asking. Now it seemed they’d found out.
He swallowed the rising fear. “I’m tired of watching my family go hungry.”
“We all are.” Chuck’s grip on his arm tightened. “But you don’t see any of us crying about it, do you?”
Zeke hated the man he was becoming, hated that he was lying and stealing and drinking and doing everything Zoe had accused him of earlier in the day. He’d seen the disappointment in her bright-green eyes. Her disgust matched his disgust in himself.
He supposed he’d gone to the mill with the hope that maybe he could rescue himself from the man he’d become. But he should have known it
wouldn’t work, that Mr. Shelburne wouldn’t hire him back, and that he’d only anger his union friends. “I shouldn’t have gone.”
They only glared at him and continued to drink.
Shrieks rang out from the mill window, frightened and distressed shrieks.
Chills raced down Zeke’s spine. “People are trapped inside.”
He jerked in another attempt to free himself, but two other men jumped up and grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back and immobilizing him.
“What’s wrong with all of you?” Zeke shouted.
Chuck stood in front of him, and the gleam in his eyes turned Zeke’s blood to ice. “The boss wants to teach everyone a lesson.”
The haze that had clouded Zeke’s head only moments ago cleared, and suddenly he understood what had happened. The union men had trapped the weavers and started the fire.
“Let me go!” Desperation speared Zeke. Maybe he’d fumed at the lucky ones earlier for still having a job when he had none, but they didn’t deserve to suffer and die.
“You won’t end up the hero of this accident.” Chuck slammed his fist into Zeke’s stomach, dropping him to his knees and drawing laughter from the other men. “No, Zeke Hart, you’ll be far from a hero when this is all said and done.”
Pain had ripped through his shoulder sockets and arms with each frantic movement he made to free himself. But he’d been pinned down and forced to helplessly watch the mill burn until the screams had tapered to silence.
Burn.
Zeke gasped as the flames poured over his back and down his body. He deserved to burn like the trapped mill workers. His burning was just punishment for bringing the tragedy upon them.
If he’d never gone that afternoon and begged for the job. If he’d only been stronger and able to get away from Chuck and the others. If he’d never gotten involved with their crowd in the first place.
His mistakes had cost three mill workers and Mr. Shelburne their lives. He blamed himself for their murders even if he hadn’t been the one to light the match. In the days following the fire when he’d been running and hiding from the law, Jeremiah had encouraged him to tell the constables the truth, that the union men had set him up. But Zeke had felt too guilty, had wanted to hand himself over. If not for Jeremiah pushing him to go to the gold fields of Britain’s colony in the Pacific Northwest, Zeke would have hanged for his crimes or been killed by the union men.
