Chasing the Sunset

by Barbara Mack

  “I heard that, Nick Revelle!” floated a voice up the stairs. “Charlie has got the carriage out

  front. Tell Maggie to hurry up. I am ready to go.”

  He captured Maggie’s hand when she started down the stairs. “Wait.” She looked inquiringly at him, and he brought her cold hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her frigid fingers. “I will see you tomorrow. Aunt Agnes is a sweet old lady, and you do not have to worry about her wanting you there. She will be glad of the company, and she will probably cosset you both to death.” He hesitated. “Give me a kiss before you go, darling,” he murmured. “I do not think I can get through today if you do not.”

  Maggie felt her heart’s barriers crumble, and she pressed her lips to his face, then to his mouth in a series of small kisses that spoke tellingly of the love and need that she felt for him. He had shaved and changed clothing, but he had not lost the fatigue that had been in his eyes. She pressed her soft body against his rock hard length to comfort him, and felt her pulse leap. Heat swept up her body.

  “I will miss you,” he whispered intensely against her lips. His warm breath gusted out when he sighed, and Maggie could feel its warmth on her face. “Miss me, too. Miss me, Maggie.”

  And Maggie showed him with her kiss that she would indeed miss him–she put all her heart and soul into the kiss, and he was breathing harshly when he drew away. His hands cupped her cheeks and he laid his forehead atop hers.

  “Kathleen will be up here to get you any second,” he whispered. “If you do not go now, I am going to have you against the wall with your skirts hiked up when she gets here.”

  “How can I even want this now?” Maggie asked him, her voice small, hanging her head. “With Uncle Ned ... “

  ”It is just life,” Nick said softly, lifting her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. “It is your body saying, sickness happens, accidents and tragedies are numerous, but look at me, I am alive right now, and I can still feel pleasure. It is only natural, Maggie. Do not feel guilty for being normal.”

  Maggie gave him one last, lingering look, then tripped lightly down the stairs to join the impatient Kathleen, who stood by the door holding the coat, hat and gloves she had sent Joanne to fetch for Maggie, an overflowing basket of food at her feet.

  Aunt Agnes was indeed kind, a petite lady of indeterminate age who, judging by her appearance, was obviously Lanny Donaldson’s sister. She greeted them with a cry of delight that soon turned to tongue-clicking commiseration.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, her towering coil of white hair wobbling precariously on top of her head as she shook it back and forth. “Oh, my, poor, poor Ned. Of course you must stay with me. At least he has got adequate medical care. I remember the terrible man we had here before. Dreadful, uneducated, coarse fellow. I was glad when young Doctor Fell took his place.”

  “Young Doctor Fell has been practicing here for forty years,” Kathleen whispered to Maggie when Aunt Agnes left the room to see her housekeeper about readying two rooms for ‘her girls’. “Aunt Agnes is years older than my mother, who is her baby sister. Trust me, she is much older than she looks, and she sometimes lives in the past, but she is sweet as sugar and nothing bothers her. She will not be angry if we run in and out at all hours of the day and night, and she will do anything she can to help. Do not worry.”

  Maggie squeezed Kathleen’s hand. “Let’s get over there as soon as possible, all right? I want to be there when Ned wakes up.”

  Agnes willingly loaned them her coach and driver, and they were at Ned’s bedside twenty minutes later. Duncan smiled at Maggie encouragingly as he listened to Ned’s heart and breathing and checked his bandage for bleeding.

  Doctor Fell was out for the rest of the day; he had gone to the Booker house, where Mrs. Booker was in the process of delivering twins–a fact that been a surprise Duncan himself had sprung on the unsuspecting Bookers on his last visit. The couple had been childless for ten years, and Mr. Booker was so nervous he had nearly fainted when given the news. Duncan did not envy Doctor Fell his task, and he was glad that Mr. Booker had requested the older doctor for the delivery. It had not hurt his feelings a bit. He had rather stay here with Ned any day than deal with a first delivery and a nervous father.

  “He is doing fine,” he told Maggie now. “He is just beginning to stir, and I want him to wake up all the way before I give him anything else for the pain.”

  Kathleen stared down at Ned, laying her hand beside his cheek. “I do not think about how old he is,” she said in a shaken manner, her voice quivering. “I never notice. He is so vital, and alive, and he bounces around and crows like a little banty rooster. But now . . . he just looks so fragile.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” Duncan said. “He is very strong and healthy. He just needs to have time to heal, and he will have it here.”

  “Let’s leave Maggie alone for a moment,” she said abruptly. “I need to talk to you.”

  Duncan raised one dark, slashing eyebrow. “Indeed?” he asked coolly. “I would have thought that we said everything that we had to say last night.” His voice turned sardonic. “But anything to oblige a lady. Perhaps you would like to join me in my office, Miss Donaldson.” He held the door open. “After you.” His voice changed when he talked to Maggie, turning warm and sweet as molasses. “Call me if anything changes, Maggie. If he wakes up, or if he seems hot . . .

  I am right in here.”

  Kathleen swept grandly through the door with her nose turned high up in the air as she

  preceded him into the cluttered space. Maggie barely noticed them go, all her attention focused on the man in front of her now, the one who seemed so deceptively frail. She clutched his hand and sat down, stroking a finger lightly down the side of his face. He slept on, and she stayed, content for the moment to be where she was at, at her uncle’s side.

  When Kathleen burst out of the office with a furious Duncan right behind her, that is where they found her, curled up in the chair beside his bed and sound asleep, Ned’s hand still cradled between hers as they rested beneath the cheek nestled close to his head. Kathleen smiled, and made motions for Duncan to follow her out into the little anteroom.

  “I will stay out here for a while, and let her sleep,” she said, and then her tone turned tart again. “Do not think that all this food I brought you means I am falling in with my mother’s wishes. I always bake when I am nervous.” She crossed her arms over her chest and dared him to say a word.

  “Of course, Kathleen,” he said smoothly. “I would never misunderstand your motives. I am happy, also, to eat any donations you make to this bachelor establishment.”

  Kathleen looked at him suspiciously, wondering if he made fun of her, but his face was appropriately serious.

  Not that I can tell anything about old stone-face, if he ever once smiled at me I think his face might crack. Does not seem to have any trouble being nice to everyone else, though, she thought. Hateful man.

  Kathleen had brought her knitting needles and yarn along, and she was halfway through a scarf when she heard a noise in the next room. She had been peeping through the door periodically, and it had seemed to her as if Ned’s sleep was lighter than before. He was beginning to roll around. She knocked briskly on Duncan’s door.

  When they entered the room, Ned was muddled but awake. Maggie was sitting up with tears rolling down her face while he tried awkwardly to soothe her.

  “Now, now, girl,” he croaked in a hoarse voice. “None o’ that. I am fine.”

  Duncan’s hands came down firmly on Maggie’s shoulders and moved her away from the bed and into Kathleen’s waiting clasp. He checked on the older man quickly and efficiently, and Kathleen grudgingly admitted to herself that he was a good doctor with a good bedside manner. He offered Ned a sip of water, propping the older man up on pillows.

  “I am going to give you some laudanum for the pain,” he said. “I want you to keep your lungs as cleared as possible–that means cough a lot, no matter ho
w badly it hurts. I am instructing Maggie and Kathleen to give you as much water and broth as you can keep down, because you need the fluids.”

  “Well, if Kathleen is staying then you might as well consider it done,” Ned sighed, hangdog in face and manner. “She will bully me mercilessly, she will, until I just give in and do it. And if I have the temerity to actually die, I have no doubt she will follow me down to hell to harangue me there as well.”

  Duncan laughed silently, his massive chest shaking, and Kathleen glared at him. Maggie hid a smile behind her hand.

  "That is right," Kathleen said sharply, hands on hips. "Even the devil himself cannot keep me from my duties. And if you ever once doubt that I could do it, just take a look at what spawned me. So there will be nothing but getting well around here, is that understood?"

  "Aye, Kathleen," Ned whispered shakily, a slight smile creasing his face. Kathleen smiled tenderly back, and Maggie felt more tears mist her eyes as Kathleen put out a trembling hand to stroke Ned’s face.

  “Ahem . . . Regardless,” Duncan said. “This is what you need to do until you are well. I will keep evaluating your wound, and I want you kept here at least until the end of the week.” He pulled up a chair and sat down beside Ned’s bed. “Do you remember what happened? I dug two bullets out of your shoulder, Ned. Who attacked you?”

  “Well, I do not rightly know,” he said, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “I remember I went to go check on Jet, and Sadie growling . . . and then I felt like someone punched a knife

  through my shoulder. I fell down, and somebody kicked me in the head. He said he was going to kill me, then Sadie jumped on him and the gun went off again. I do not remember anything past that until I woke up here with m’ niece blubbering all over me.”

  “I will tell the sheriff,” Duncan said. “I was hoping for more, but at least I know now where you got that goose egg on the back of your head. Take this laudanum now,” he commanded, stirring the liquid into a small glass of water. “If you take care of the pain while it is small instead of waiting until it is excruciating, it goes away much more quickly and with less medication. I am not like some doctors: I do not believe that it is good for the healing process if the patient suffers. I want you as comfortable as possible, and I want you to tell someone right away if the pain gets severe.” He cast a stern look on the older man. “It is not manlier to suffer, and I do not want to hear of you acting in such a ridiculous manner. I will sic Kathleen on you if you do not listen to me in this,” he said gravely, a slight smile twitching the corners of his mouth.

  Kathleen shot him a foul look, and Ned chuckled and agreed sleepily, the laudanum already taking effect, and Duncan left his bedside.

  “He will sleep for hours,” he told Maggie gently. “You and Kathleen get something to eat, one at a time if you do not wish to leave him alone. There is a restaurant in the hotel that serves a decent steak.”

  Maggie told Kathleen to go on first, and Duncan offered to escort her. Kathleen did not seem too pleased with the suggestion, but could not get out of it without seeming rude. She gave Duncan her arm reluctantly. Maggie thought that there was something going on between them, despite all Kathleen’s protests. She had seen pure male appreciation light up Duncan’s eyes more than once as he watched Kathleen covertly.

  Maggie wrapped herself in a shawl and watched Ned sleep peacefully, the lines on his face and forehead relaxed. He hardly stirred, and Maggie nearly put herself in a trance watching the

  slow rhythm of his breaths. She began to match her breathing to his, unconsciously, and her body relaxed, too, the last of the tension draining away.

  Duncan and Kathleen were back in what seemed like only minutes. When Maggie questioned them about it, she was surprised to find they had been gone an hour. She waved off Duncan’s offer of an escort to the hotel. It was only three buildings away, after all. No one would hurt her here.

  After bundling up and wrapping around her head the scarf that Kathleen insisted she take, Maggie stepped out into the frigid weather, looking around in awe. A couple of inches of snow had already fallen and it was as yet largely undisturbed, so a blanket of white lay everywhere she looked. It was starting to get dark already, and the light from the moon made the unsullied snow gleam. It was beautiful and pure, and Maggie blew out a long plume of breath in admiration.

  Smiling, she stepped off the walkway to cross the alley, into a pile of snow. She lifted her boots and shook them off. The cold seeped right through to her feet and she thought absently that she needed a sturdier pair of shoes.

  She heard the sound of running feet and turned to look inquiringly down the alley just as a hard fist smashed into the side of her face. She dropped like a rock into the drifted snow, stunned and bleeding. Uncaring hands dragged her deeper into the alley. Maggie moaned.

  “Bitch,” a voice said malevolently. “I am going to hurt you much more than that puny little blow ever did. I am going to make you pay.”

  Maggie turned her head fitfully, her jaw throbbing and her head whirling. She tried to

  force herself to open her eyes and confront the man who bent over her now, though nausea threatened and her head ached abominably.

  “Open your eyes, and look at me,” sneered the man, and Maggie knew that voice, she did, it was a voice right out of her bad dreams . . .

  She made a valiant effort and opened her eyes . . . and looked straight into the feral eyes of her dead husband. Maggie tried to scream, but her vocal cords would not cooperate and she could only stare in silent horror at the face of the man that she thought she had killed. She lost her battle with consciousness and slid down, down, down into the welcoming darkness.

  ELEVEN

  When an hour and a half had passed and Maggie still had not returned, Duncan went looking for her, leaving a worried Kathleen with Ned. No one at the restaurant or the hotel remembered seeing any lone woman fitting her description, and they would have remembered. Duncan walked quickly back to the surgery.

  “Where could she have gone?” he wondered aloud.

  This felt wrong to him; no matter that Duncan had been raised with white men, the blood of Celtic mystics and Indian shamans ran strongly through his veins, and he was more finely tuned to his environment than most people ever are. He had a fine level of intuition accented by good observational skills, and he also had a little something extra, a . . . knowing, if you would, that he had come to trust.

  Something was wrong. He felt lingering traces of evil here in this place. This evil had touched Maggie somehow, and it had something to do with her disappearance.

  He did not know what it was, he did not even know how he knew, but he knew. Duncan tramped back through the snow, his piercing eyes alert and scanning his surroundings. He stopped in the alley, knelt beside a trampled snow drift. Boot prints were all around it–a woman and at least one man. He tore off a glove and touched his finger to something he saw there, then brought it to his nose. Blood. It was Maggie’s; he knew it with a bone-deep certainty that he could not ignore.

  Duncan walked back farther between the two buildings and saw drag marks on the ground, and more boot prints from the same man–he could tell it was the same track by the wear pattern of the boots. He headed for the sheriff’s office at a fast run, his well conditioned body performing as he expected it to. He was not even breathing hard when he got there . . . but his heart was pounding furiously, not from the exertion, but from fear for Maggie.

  The sheriff and Duncan had already formed a friendship of sorts, enough of one so that the man trusted Duncan’s judgment. Without hesitation, he sent a deputy out to Nick’s, telling him what had happened, and began a systematic search of the town.

  But Maggie was nowhere to be found.

  The only thing that they discovered was that a man traveling alone had checked out of the hotel and departed a day earlier than he had planned. The man was the only stranger who had passed through Geddes as far as anyone could tell. He may or may not have had something to do
with Maggie’s disappearance, and he had not even left a hint as to where he was headed.

  Duncan chafed at the delay; he could not leave his patient, and Doctor Fell was still out at the Booker farm helping with the delivery. Sheriff Vanderiest had someone out looking for the man who had been staying at the hotel, but his deputies were not trackers, they mainly broke up fights and such, and the drifting snow was fast covering up tracks which might have led them to Maggie.

  Duncan knew that he could find her. He could track a flea over a mile of rock; when he was seven he had tracked and brought home a two-year-old who had been lost for days. Everyone involved in the search, even his father, had already given up the boy for dead and was planning to go home the next morning.

  Duncan knew somehow that this was not the case; he felt that he had some mysterious union with the boy, some invisible thread that bound him irrevocably to the small child. He was still too young and inarticulate to explain this with any coherence to his elders, so he did the only thing that he felt he could do. He left his father sleeping and quietly slipped from the camp. He knew that his father would not leave him there, and the entire party would be forced to wait either until he came back or until they found him.

  He had dreamed that the boy was alive and in a small cave halfway up the side of a canyon–and when he found the child, that was exactly where he was.

  He refused the praise that was offered him upon his return to camp because he did not feel he deserved it; the boy himself had called Duncan to him, somehow. When he tried to explain this to them all, everyone laughed except his father, who took him aside when his hurt showed on his face and then was quickly hidden behind a mask of indifference.

  “There are more events in this world than just those that are readily explainable and easily understood,” he told Duncan in his thick brogue. “You scared them, that is why they all laughed. What cannot be explained must be untrue, to them. You can see things that others cannot, feel things that they never will, and this will always be so, son. You were given a gift, though you might not consider it that at one time or another in your life and it comes to you both from my people and from your mother’s.” His father had looked off into the mountains, his profile outlined against the harsh beauty of the peaks. His expression made him seem as if he were very far away from where Duncan was right now.