Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He could hardly breathe. His worst nightmare was about to come true.
Chapter 30
Molly threw up her hands. “Donny, you’ve got to help me. I can’t move you without your help. I’d sooner dress a lamppost.”
Donny stuck out his lower lip. “I don’t want to sit in my chair.”
“You can’t stay in bed all day.”
“Why not?” He made a face at her. “What difference does it make if I stay in bed or sit in my chair?”
Molly sighed. “It’s not good for you to lie around.” Weary of Donny’s increasing bad moods, she sat on the edge of the bed. “Now what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong with you?” His contorted face made him look older than his years. “You keep pushing me to do things I don’t want to do.”
She threw his clean shirt down and stood. “I never ask you to do anything that’s not for your own good.”
“It’s not for my good, it’s for yours!”
Hands at her waist, she glared at him. Already her temples ached. It was too early to argue, but she could hardly ignore him when he was this upset. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He stared at her with accusing eyes. “You just want to get rid of me so that you can marry the doctor.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Whatever made you . . . Donny, I would never get rid of you and I’m not getting married. Why would you even think such a thing?”
“Quit lying to me. I heard you and the doc talking.”
“You heard us?”
“The other night.”
Molly’s thoughts scattered. “I don’t know what you mean. What did you hear?”
“I heard Doc Fairbanks say I had the right to know.”
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. This was the moment she’d always dreaded, the moment she’d prayed would never come. “What you heard—it’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?” His eyes narrowed. “What don’t I know?”
She stared at him. Caleb was right. Donny was no longer a child and had the right to know the truth of his injury. “Something . . . I should have told you long ago.”
Donny’s brows drew together. “Tell me now!”
“After you get in your chair.” Perhaps by the time he was dressed, the right words would come to her. Just don’t let him hate me.
“Promise?”
“Promise.” Brodie had gone to Tombstone for supplies and she was in charge until his return. Today she could be a little late and no one would be the wiser.
Donny cooperated fully. Neither spoke, but he watched her face as if searching for clues. She helped him through his morning ablutions and for once he gave her no argument.
When he was fully dressed, he gripped the arms of the chair and leaned forward. “You said you would tell me.”
“Let’s go outside.” It was hot and stuffy in the room and she desperately needed fresh air. She pushed him through the house and onto the shaded verandah.
In the distance, Orbit did his crazy circling. The colt kept stopping to look at the fence where she normally sat and sang to him each morning. She was wrong. Someone did notice she was late.
She drew her gaze away from Orbit to find Donny watching her, his forehead shadowed with questions.
She lowered herself on a wicker chair and cleared her voice but the huskiness remained. “Caleb and I were talking about your accident. When you fell out of your carriage. That’s what you heard.” She blew out her breath. Not knowing where else to start, she started at the beginning. “The day of your accident Mama wasn’t feeling well, so I took you for a walk.”
She went to great lengths to describe the Christmas tree in the shop window. The porcelain doll, gray cloudy skies, and snowmuddied street were just as clear to her now as they had been on that long ago day. She’d never talked about Donny’s accident except to Caleb. Maybe that’s why it still hurt so much, why the memories had not diminished.
After her father died she recalled every detail of his last hours on earth with chilling accuracy. She repeated them over and over in her mind, as if careful attention to specifics would make his death seem more real. Particulars didn’t help then and they didn’t help now.
Donny sat perfectly still without uttering a sound.
“It was my fault. I . . . should never have taken my eyes off you and for that I will never forgive myself.”
“Is that the only reason you take care of me? Because it was your fault?”
The question cut through her but no more so than the accusations in his eyes. “I take care of you because you’re my brother and I love you.”
“More than you love the doctor?”
Her mouth dropped open. Love? “Donny . . . I . . .” She started to deny it but the words wouldn’t come. Was he right? She knew she had feelings for Caleb but had simply brushed them off as a schoolgirl crush. Never had she allowed herself to call her feelings love.
Is that why the memory of his kisses still lingered? Why her heart skipped a beat the moment she heard Bertha’s motor in the distance?
He glared at her. “You can’t say it, can you? You can’t say you love me more.”
“I love you,” she said in a choked voice. “You’re my brother. You mean the world to me.”
“But you love the doctor more!”
“No!”
The vehemence of her voice made him lean back but suspicion remained on his face. “The only reason you take care of me is because you feel guilty.”
“I do feel guilty,” she admitted. “I would give anything to change what happened, but that has nothing to do with my feelings for you. I hope we can live here forever.” She’d worked hard—harder than she’d ever worked in her life—trying to prove to Miss Walker she had what it took to run a ranch. “You’d like that, right?”
“You don’t want to live here. You want to get married and put me away.”
“Donny, listen to me.” She reached for his hands but he pulled back.
“Go away. Leave me alone. I hate you.”
His words ripped through her. “You can’t mean that.”
“Go!”
It was no use trying to talk to him when he was like this. She turned and stumbled down the steps, her mind in a whirl. “You love the doctor more.” Was Donny right about her being in love with Caleb? Was that why he affected her so?
She shook the thought away. Even if it was true, nothing could be done about it. She wanted the ranch for Donny and the only way that was possible was to sign the agreement forbidding marriage.
“I hate you.”
Donny didn’t mean it. Couldn’t mean it. He was upset. They both were. Later they would talk and everything would go back to the way it was. God, please let it be so.
Long after the argument with his sister, Donny sat on the verandah watching her work with horses. He felt bad for the things he said. He didn’t hate her, he could never hate her. Nor could he blame her for his accident. He was just so afraid of losing her he hadn’t been able to think straight.
Molly put a bay through its paces. Astride the horse she circled the corral much as Donny’s thoughts circled in his head. She promised to sign those papers and that meant they could live on the ranch forever. Never again would he have to worry about losing Molly and facing the world alone.
Maybe when Molly took over as the full owner, she’d let him build an observatory on the property with a real telescope. He envisioned astronomers trekking to the Last Chance to view an eclipse, comet, or other heavenly spectacle. What discussions they would have. And how he would amaze them with his knowledge!
He was so engrossed in his thoughts it took him awhile to realize something was wrong with Orbit. The black horse whinnied, teeth white against black lips. He stood on his hind legs, pawing the air with frantic hooves. He then dropped down on all fours, ran back and forth, and then rose again on his hind legs.
Donny narrowed his eyes against the g
laring sun. It looked like Orbit was trying to escape. But why? And where was Molly? He swung his gaze from one end of the corral to the other. The horse that moments earlier had carried Molly now galloped around without a rider.
Alarmed, he craned his neck and quickly scanned the ground. Something blue caught his eye. Molly! She was lying on the ground and didn’t move.
“Help,” Donny cried. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Orbit wasn’t trying to escape. Somehow he sensed that Molly was in trouble and was trying to get to her.
“Help, someone, help!” He yelled as loud as he could but no one was around to hear his frantic cries.
His chest squeezed tight and he could hardly breathe. He wiped his damp palms on his trousers and grabbed the chair wheels. Frantic, he forced his chair to the steps. Even in his panic, he knew he could never reach her. And even if he could reach her, he couldn’t help. Not in a million years. No matter how much he wanted to or how much he tried, he couldn’t help her. Never had he felt so helpless, so utterly, utterly helpless.
He whirled about, searching for something, anything. He pounded on the door with his fists. No one answered, which meant that Rosita was either upstairs or out back. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, yelling at the top of his lungs. Still no one.
The doorbell. It could be heard everywhere, even out back. He got as close as he could to the rope, but it was out of reach. Gasping, he stretched his body as much as he could, his arm rigid. His fingers touched the rope, making it swing back and forth. Bracing himself, he tried again and again.
With a mighty lunge he stretched high enough to get a handhold on the rope. He tugged it and chimes sounded inside the house.
Nothing.
He fought against panic and gave the rope another brisk pull. This time the door sprang all the way open and Rosita stepped outside.
“Get help!” he gasped. “My sister is hurt.”
Rosita vanished inside, reappearing moments later with her brother.
“Molly!” Donny pointed to the corral, and Jose leaped off the verandah and took off at a run.
Donny watched, helpless in his chair, and he did something he didn’t normally do. He prayed. God, don’t punish me for the awful things I said to her. Please, please, please don’t take my sister away. I’ll do better, I will, I promise.
Chapter 31
It was almost eleven p.m. when Caleb crossed the street to the hotel to check on Molly.
No one was at the desk as he strolled through the deserted lobby. He took the stairs two at a time and hurried to the infirmary at the end of the hall, floorboards creaking beneath his feet.
He opened the door. A kerosene lamp bathed the room in soft yellow light. Donny sat in his wheelchair snoring like a freight train.
The poor kid refused to leave his sister’s side. By the looks of things, he hadn’t even touched the bowl of stew and biscuits from Miss Lily’s Café.
Molly still drifted in and out of consciousness, but the swelling on her head had gone down and that was a good sign. For a while, it looked like he was going to have to bore a hole in her skull to relieve the pressure on her brain, but trepanning was no longer necessary, thank God. Now all he could do was wait and pray.
He sat on the chair by her side, found her wrist, and checked her pulse. It was still below normal. He held her hand in both of his and wished he could smooth away the calluses on her palm, smooth away everything that brought her heartache or pain.
She looked pale but no less beautiful to him. Silky soft hair spread in disarray across the pillow. Thick, long lashes brushed against gently rounded cheeks. The curve of her pretty pink mouth brought back the memory of her kisses. He felt a tug in his heart. God, make her well again. Bring her back to me.
He often prayed by a patient’s side, part of his job as a doctor. This time he asked for more than just healing; he asked God to bring her back to him.
Shaken by how close he’d been to losing her, he covered her hand with his own and sat perfectly still. From the moment Ruckus had driven her helter-skelter to town and helped him carry her to the hotel, he had acted and thought like a physician. He had examined her, monitored her breathing, dribbled water down her throat, measured the swelling of her head, and prayed.
But now he didn’t talk to God as a doctor. Rather he prayed like a man in love.
He didn’t know how long he sat by her side, but the stiffness of his body told him it had been awhile. Low on fuel, the lamp sputtered and the light began to fade. Somewhere around midnight it went out altogether, casting the room in darkness.
At one a.m., a half-moon shone through the open window, bathing the room in blue light.
Rowdy laughter, shouts, and occasional gunshots rose from the street below. Caleb closed the window but it did little to mute the sounds.
It seemed that things had gotten worse, not better, since the saloons agreed to close on alternate Saturday nights. It was as if the town’s roughnecks decided to party harder on the nights the saloons remained open.
Earlier he spotted Harvey Trotter stumbling from the Golden Eagle. Caleb was no closer to solving the mystery of Jimmy’s illness, and his heart ached anew for the man’s hurting family.
Someone fired a round of bullets and Donny stirred and called out in his sleep. “Fire! Fire!” The kid was having a nightmare.
Caleb stepped away from the window and went to him. He shook him gently and Donny stiffened beneath his touch and his eyes flew open.
“There’s no fire.” Caleb nodded toward the window. “Just some rowdies.”
Donny blinked and looked around as if trying to make sense of his surroundings. “Is my sister—?”
“She’ll be fine.” Caleb picked up a chair, carried it to Donny’s side, and sat.
Donny glanced at the bed. “She still won’t wake up.”
“She’s not asleep, Donny. She’s drifting in and out of unconsciousness. It’s the brain’s way of healing.”
“How long will she be like this?” Donny asked.
“There’s really no way of telling,” Caleb said. He didn’t want to worry Donny, but neither did he want to lie.
Donny sniffled and his tears looked like silver pearls in the dim, moonlit room. “I said some awful things to her. I told her I hated her and that’s not true. I could never hate her.”
Caleb handed him a clean handkerchief. “She knows that, Donny.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I know your sister. We all say hurtful things from time to time, things we don’t mean. Fortunately, love is forgiving and your sister loves you very much.”
Donny wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “I don’t blame her for my accident. I don’t.”
“You know about that?” Caleb asked.
Donny nodded. “She told me it was her fault and that’s when I said those awful things.”
Caleb rubbed his throbbing brow. Molly must have been upset after the argument. Perhaps that accounted for her accident.
Donny’s body shook with sobs. “I—I sh-should have told her not to w-work at the ranch. She was only doing it for me. She was tired and her hands were sore and she doesn’t even like cattle . . . and . . . I should have told her I loved her.”
Caleb groaned. That makes two of us. “You can still tell her that when she wakes up.”
“P-Promise?” Donny pleaded.
“Promise.” Caleb grimaced. He had no right to promise things he had no control over.
“I couldn’t even get to her. I couldn’t help her,” Donny murmured. “I couldn’t do anything. I’m as useless as a worm.”
“That’s not true, Donny. You got help for your sister.”
“But what would have happened had I not reached the doorbell? She could have been lying in the dirt for hours. What if Jose and Rosita were out back and didn’t hear me ring? What if I’m here in this room all alone and something happens to her?”
“It’s a waste of time to worry about what could have happened or m
ight happen. You did what had to be done. That’s all any of us can do.” Donny looked so distressed Caleb felt sorry for him. “Come on, I’ll take you to Aunt Bessie’s house. She said you could stay with her while your sister is recuperating.”
Donny shook his head. “I want to stay here with Molly.”
Caleb started to argue but changed his mind. “All right. Just for tonight.”
He found an empty room across the hall. Without bothering to remove the bedding, he grabbed the mattress and carried it back to Molly’s room and placed it on the floor. He straightened the sheets and blanket and lifted Donny from his chair to the bed.
“There you go,” Caleb said. “Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
Donny settled for the night, Caleb sat by Molly’s side, waiting for morning.
Eleanor sat on the buggy seat by Robert’s side, staring at the horse pulling them. What a nuisance.
“Couldn’t you have just given Molly my regards?” she asked, not for the first time. Did Robert always have to be such a gentleman? He insisted she travel to Cactus Patch and see for herself how Molly was doing. Eleanor hadn’t been to town for some years, not since those busybody church women boycotted her beef following her divorce. From that time on she conducted her business in Tombstone.
“Miss Hatfield is under your employ.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.” Nothing had worked out as planned, certainly nothing involving the ranch. If only her one and only child hadn’t died. Thirty years—more than a quarter of a century—and still it hurt. Nothing that happened since—not the Indian trouble, not the divorce, not even the earthquake and fire that destroyed her ranch—had been as difficult as losing her only child.
She had no patience for sentimentality or weakness of character. For that reason she considered grief her greatest flaw.
“How long before Molly can return to the ranch?”
Robert took his eyes off the road just long enough to give her a puzzled glance. “A week or two.”
Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) Page 23
