Chapter Twenty-One
“Bryan!” She reached toward his head. Gripped a shoulder. Shook it. “Bryan, you have to get up. Fire!”
Another groan.
Oh, God. I’ve never needed you more than I do now. Please help me get him out of here.
She shook him again, then felt for his arms. He lay on his side, facing away from her. She rolled him on his back, then pulled him up to a sitting position, using her whole body for strength.
“I’m up.” The mumbled words were barely distinguishable. He was conscious? Thank you, Lord.
“We have to get out of here, Bryan. Can you stand?”
No response.
She pushed his feet to the floor. He was in his stockings, but at least he felt fully clothed. “Can you stand?”
Still no answer.
She looped his arm around her neck like Papa used to do with their neighbor when he’d drunk too much at the tavern to walk home on his own.
“Stand up.” Her sharp command must have gotten through, because he made an effort to rise. She finally got him on his feet, but he leaned so hard to the side, he pulled her down. Before she could find some leverage, he’d fallen back on the bed, dragging her almost on top of him.
That wasn’t going to work.
The flame was mere feet away now, spreading along the walls at least a foot per minute. “God, help me!”
She turned back to Bryan again. She gripped his wrists and pulled him up to a sitting position, then turned and looped his arms over both her shoulders, like she was carrying him piggy back.
“Stand up!” With the noise of the fire so close, he might not have heard her, but she could feel him pushing up as she pulled him to a standing position.
The smoke pressed down hard on her chest. She needed to cough, but she’d lose all balance with Bryan’s weight on her back.
Bent half over, she pushed forward in the direction she’d come. Bryan’s feet moved too. At least she wasn’t completely dragging him.
She teetered under the weight, but her shoulder struck the door frame, helping her regain some balance. They were through the door now, Claire pushed forward blindly down the hall until a glimmer of moonlight indicated the back door.
Almost there.
With the last bit of strength she had, Claire stumbled forward several strides into the grassy area behind the clinic.
Then she collapsed, allowing Bryan to roll off her back as she landed on the ground beside him. Coughs overtook her, and she rose up on her knees as her body wracked. Pains shot through her chest with each cough, and finally, she sank back to the ground.
She had to get aid. Had to help Bryan. Every part of her body craved rest, but she couldn’t collapse until Bryan was cared for.
Glancing back at the building, she could see the red flames leaping in the sky on the other side of the roof. The first priority was getting Bryan farther away from the building.
Pushing herself up, Claire stumbled around the side of the clinic farthest from the fire. Men swarmed the street just a little ways down. Some had formed a line, passing buckets between them. She ran that direction.
“Help!” She grabbed the arm of the largest of the men in the line. “Bryan was in the clinic. He’s hurt.”
Without a word, he broke from the line and jogged after her. Claire lifted her skirts and ran as fast as she could. She stumbled several times and would have gone down had the man not grabbed her elbow.
At last they reached Bryan, still crumbled on the ground. “Get him away from the fire.”
The man scooped Bryan up, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of flour, then jogged in the direction of the church.
Claire fought back a protest against the way Bryan was being carried. His hands clutched the man’s shirt, which meant he must be awake. Lord, please don’t let him die.
She snagged the arm of another young man they passed. “Inside the clinic. In the first treatment room, there’s a box of bandages and medicine. Get everything out you can and bring them to the grass by the church.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As the fellow trotted away, she scurried to catch up with Bryan’s helper. Her chest ached, but she kept running.
Her mind scanned its recesses for everything she knew about how to treat smoke inhalation. The main thing was to make sure his breathing was unobstructed. Lord, please don’t let him be burnt. The old images of her childhood friend tried to resurface, but she pushed them back.
A crowd had started mingling in the grass beside the church. The man lowered Bryan to the ground, and Claire rushed forward to cradle his lolling head as he fell back.
There were enough lanterns around that she got her first good look at him. A sob caught in her throat.
Bryan’s face was swollen and soot-darkened. She reached out, afraid to touch him. How much pain must he be in? Her chest ached.
His breathing was ragged, but he was breathing. His eyes were closed. The way his head had dangled, had he slipped unconscious? She had to help him.
Raising her head, Claire scanned the area. People seemed clustered in groups, all murmuring in low voices. Was Doc Alex here? That’s who she needed.
She rose and strode through the crowd. “Alex?” she called out in a low voice. Hopefully she wouldn’t disturb the injured, but she had to find Bryan’s brother.
“Here.”
The familiar voice sent a rush of relief through her. Claire spun and ran toward him. “Bryan’s hurt. He was in the clinic, and I barely got him out. His face is swollen, but he’s breathing. He’s not conscious.”
Alex started in the direction she’d come. “Where is he?”
They wove back through the huddled people. When they were about fifteen feet away, she pointed to Bryan, still lying on the grass where she’d left him.
Alex ran forward and crouched by his brother. He placed two fingers at Bryan’s neck to check his pulse. Then he knelt down to press his ear to his chest. Alex closed his eyes as he listened.
Claire couldn’t breathe herself as she watched and waited for a prognosis.
Alex raised back up and touched Bryan’s swollen face. “How you feelin’ there, big brother?” His voice cracked on the first word. From the smoke or emotion?
A groan sounded as Bryan’s eyelids flickered, then opened to small cracks. “Rather…be…dead.” His voice was so hoarse it was barely audible. But he’d spoken.
Claire couldn’t contain herself any longer. She dropped to her knees on Bryan’s other side. Taking his hand, she cradled it in both of hers. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”
He turned his head slightly to look at her. “Me…too.” His eyes drifted shut, and he squeezed her hand. A light pressure, but the message was strong.
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, near the hairline where he wasn’t as swollen. No matter that Alex was watching.
She looked up at the younger doctor. “Is it okay if I find water to wash his face?”
Alex had a funny expression, but he nodded. “That would be good.”
Men had brought over barrels of water, and the women of the town had brought blankets and cloth to use as bandages. The man she’d ordered to gather supplies from the clinic was just arriving with a helper, and they placed the crates with the other supplies.
She pressed a hand to the man’s arm. “Make sure only Doc Alex disperses these. All right?”
The man nodded. “Yes’m.”
The last thing Alex needed were the remnants of his supplies passed through the crowds. Especially when the people may not know which tonic to use for which ailment.
With a basin of water and cloth in hand, Claire wound her way back to the doctors. She resumed her place beside Bryan, then glanced up at his younger brother. “They brought several crates of supplies from the clinic. They’re over by the water barrels, but I told the men not to allow anyone to use them except you.”
Doc Alex rose. “I’ll see if there’s anything I can gi
ve Bryan for the pain or to help him breathe, then I need to get back to the others. I’ll have Miriam come over when she can.”
Claire forced a competent smile, but it was probably more of a grimace. “I know there are a lot of people who need help. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”
Wringing the water from the cloth, Claire focused on Bryan’s face as she smoothed the damp fabric over it. The soot wiped away easily enough, and his face wasn’t as swollen as she’d first thought.
His breathing was steady now, though still rough and raspy. Was he awake?
She dipped the cloth back in the water, squeezed the excess from it, and then wiped Bryan’s forehead again.
A tiny shadow of a smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Feels…good.” He struggled with the words, and a coughing fit overtook him.
Claire reached under his shoulders and helped him turn on his side to help with the coughs.
He seemed to be gagging for a moment, then a thick, dark substance spewed from his mouth. He sank back against the ground, a trail of the dark liquid leaking down the side of his jaw. The effort seemed to have drained the last of his strength.
Claire wiped his face, her chest aching at the sight. Was he going to make it? The thought petrified her, feeding a fear that threatened to overwhelm. She pressed her eyes shut.
God, touch his body. Heal him. Please. I can’t lose Bryan, too.
A warm hand touched her knee, resting there.
Claire opened her eyes and stared at Bryan’s strong hand, thick auburn hairs brushing its surface. Even with the agony he was suffering, he still thought of her. The idea clenched her chest tighter.
She raised her gaze to watch his face. So much pain played across his features. The loud rasp of his breathing so labored. Could she trust God with his life? Truly relinquish her fears? Would God heal him? Did God care about Bryan as much as she did?
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon Me, and ye shall go and pray unto Me, and I will hearken unto you.
The words from Jeremiah filled her mind. One of Marcus’s favorite passages. He’d even written the Scripture in the letter he’d sent from school as she was preparing to travel to Butte. Pray unto Me, and I will hearken unto you.
She stared up into the night sky. Smoke from the fire snuffed out the stars, but the moon still glimmered through the haze. “Lord, will you please heal Bryan?”
For the first time that night, as the prayer lifted from her lips, it took with it the shroud of fear over her heart. She inhaled a deep breath and released it, peace settling into her soul. Thank you, Father.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Claire stayed with Bryan for the next several hours, offering him sips of water each time he awoke. Helping him roll over when he coughed up the sooty phlegm. Stroking his hair and soothing him as he slept. With each quarter hour, the love inside her grew stronger. She may not have known him long—less than two months—but her soul connected with this man beyond what she’d ever thought possible. If God chose to heal him—and she prayed constantly for God’s healing—this was where she wanted to spend the rest of her life. By this man’s side. Helping and supporting him in whatever role God assigned.
Every time worry threatened her peace, Claire raised another prayer toward heaven.
The night sky was lightening now. Dawn would be on them soon. This night couldn’t end soon enough.
Claire sat with her hands clasped around her knees, watching the minimal activity in the clearing. News had come a half hour ago that the fire was out. All the wounded were in this gathering, under the watchful care of Alex, Miriam, and a horde of exhausted townspeople. Most were resting now, worn out from the long night behind them.
“You should…lay down.” Bryan’s hoarse voice sounded beside her.
She glanced at him. His eyes were more alert than they had been since the fire.
“Rest.”
Tenderness surged through her as she reached to stroke his shoulder. “I’m okay, love. It’s almost morning.”
He raised a hand to finger the cloth at her elbow. “I’m sorry…you’ve had…to take care of me.”
Just like this man to put others before him. She took his hand from her arm and raised it to cup her cheek. “I’m glad I finally have a chance to spend time with you.”
The smallest hint of a smile touched his mouth. “Me, too.”
After a moment, he looked around on the ground. “Is there…water?”
She took up the canteen and slipped a hand behind his head to help him drink.
He was able to swallow more than a sip this time, drinking several gulps before he pulled away.
As she replaced the cork, he struggled to rise. “Wait. Lie still, Bryan. Rest.”
He didn’t rest, though. “Help,” he grunted as he strained. The man was hard-headed.
She helped pull him to a sitting position, then slipped an arm behind his back for support.
He tugged her other arm. “Sit beside me.”
She eyed him warily. His color seemed better now, or maybe that was the effects of the dawning light. The swelling had almost left his face, though his lips were still a bright red.
She slowly eased in beside him. Bryan slipped his arm around her, but a coughing fit caught him, and he turned away. The sounds and the way it wracked his body hurt her own chest.
When it finally subsided, Bryan took another gulp of the water, then replaced the cork and eased out a long breath. “What a night. Haven’t felt this bad since…never.”
He slipped his arm behind her again, and Claire settled into him, turning to see his face. “I’m just thankful you’re alive.”
He squeezed her waist. “Me, too.”
They sat for several minutes like that. The silence was wonderful. Everything was wonderful, just having him next to her.
At last he spoke. “How did I get out? Do you know?”
She eyed him. He didn’t remember? “I carried you.”
He raised both brows. “You?” His hand gave her waist a little pinch. “I don’t believe it.” And from his teasing tone, it sounded like he really didn’t.
She straightened her spine. “I did.”
He studied her eyes for a long moment. “You pulled me out of the clinic? Out of the fire?”
She swallowed. He knew her fear. Knew what it had taken for her to go toward the fire. She could only nod.
He grazed the side of her arm with his finger, sending a skitter of bumps across her skin. “Can you tell me about it? Your experience…with fire?”
He didn’t say fear, but they might as well call it what it was. “My fear?”
A nod was his only response, his eyes not wavering from hers.
She inhaled a breath. She needed to tell him about it. Lord, this will take Your strength. With the prayer on her heart, she opened her mouth and began her story.
Bryan listened without a word as she told about her early years playing with Mandy. How they’d built their own playhouse in the woods, climbed trees, followed Marcus around. She told him about the way they loved to stretch out on the grass in the pasture to enjoy the sunshine.
And then she told about the bruises that always covered Mandy’s arms. About the broken arm. The broken fingers. The burns on her palms. How afraid Mandy was of her stepfather. How Mandy would scarcely breathe the few times Claire saw her around him. And finally, that awful day when Mandy fell into the fireplace.
“Mama said Mr. Steinberg swore it was an accident. Mandy had been ladling soup from the pot hanging over the fire and lost her balance. He’d been drinking that night, though. Mandy had seen him with the bottles of his homebrewed liquor and was afraid to go home. She was more afraid of him missing her though. I wanted to say something to Mama and Papa, but I knew I’d be tattling. Mama hates anything that looks like gossip, and I was afraid she’d wash my mouth with lye.”
Th
e shame washed over her anew. Because she’d been worried about punishment, her friend lost her life.
False guilt. Marcus’s words from the sermon came back to her. She pressed her eyes shut. Had the guilt she’d struggled under all these years been of her own making?
Bryan’s fingers brushed her arm again. “Did you see her…with the burns?”
Claire inhaled a long, shaky breath as the images rushed in. “Yes.”
His other arm came around her, encasing her in the strong shelter of his grip. Claire burrowed. She was supposed to care for his wounds. Be strong for him.
But as a sob escaped, she clutched his shirt and allowed the tears to fall.
~ ~ ~
Bryan held Claire in his arms, brushing from her face the hair that escaped her braid. The wrenching sobs tearing through her were enough to shatter the last bit of reservations he had about this woman. He loved her. More than he could ever imagine loving a person. And her tears were breaking his heart.
She needed it, though. Mum had always said tears were cleansing for a woman, and from the sound of it, she was wiping clean the slate of fear and guilt she’d carried since she was a five-year-old child.
After minutes—or hours—her sobs faded to shudders. He never loosened his grip, even though his chest ached like the fire still raged inside of it. A little bit of physical pain was nothing compared to the struggles Claire had been through. Who would let a five-year-old child see the burns that killed her friend? That kind of damage would have disfigured the girl, probably beyond recognition.
He tightened his hold. God, bring her peace.
At last she pulled back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, Bryan. I didn’t mean to do that.”
He took her chin in his fingers, pulling it up so she looked at him with those red, puffy eyes. “I’m glad you did.” He hated the hoarse scratching of his voice, but it didn’t seem to bother her. “Thanks for telling me your story.”
She offered a weak smile. “It’s a cautionary tale.”
So much came clear to him now. Why she hated any hint of a bully. Why she poured so much of herself out for others. That was her nature, too, but she did it like she was driven. Was she trying to pay some kind of penance?
Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1 Page 59
