“Matchmaking schemes? That sounds interesting. And maybe frightening. I’m not sure which.”
“Both.” Gilbert chuckled. “Believe me, both.” He took a sip of water, then said, “Now, Grace, we’ve spent quite a lot of time talking about me, and yet, I know very little about you.”
“There’s not a great deal to tell,” Grace said with a lift of her shoulders.
“But there must be something,” he prodded when she didn’t continue. “You were born at some point, obviously—where?”
“Oh, you don’t want every little detail. That would bore you silly.” Grace bit into her roll, thinking that might give her the time she needed, but he just looked at her with one eyebrow raised.
“All right, I can see I’m not getting away with this.” Grace sighed and pushed her plate away. “The truth is, I’m not very proud of where I came from. My father spent quite a lot of time at the saloon, and my mother was forced to ask friends and neighbors for food. It got to where people slammed their doors when they saw one of us coming, no matter our reason for being there. She worked when she could, but jobs weren’t easy to find for a woman with small children, and the people in our town believed my father should stop drinking and provide for his family. They weren’t wrong.”
“So now you’re providing for yourself,” Gilbert said.
“I have since I was old enough to hire out. My father eventually did start drinking less and things improved, but I find that I’m a lot happier when I’m independent. Topeka has become my home, the staff at the Brody is my family, and that’s that.”
Gilbert slowly nodded. “I knew I admired you, Miss McAllister, and now I find even more reasons why I should.”
Grace sat back a little. “You admire me?”
“I do. Quite a lot. You challenge me. You make me question myself, which is needed at this time when I’m making so many changes.” He toyed with his butter knife, not meeting her gaze. “And I think Mrs. Dempsey has the right of it.”
“She does? About what?”
“About courting.” Gilbert now looked up. “I’d very much like to court you, Grace.”
She searched for words, but none would come. He’d completely surprised her, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“I have to say, I’d sworn off the waitresses at the Brody Hotel. My experiences with them have been less than positive, to say the least, and it was my fault in each case. But you’ve shattered my resolve. I find myself needing to get to know you.”
She blinked and finally remembered to take a deep breath. “I really don’t know what to say,” she said after a long silence. “As long as we’re being honest, you should know that I haven’t liked you very much. Because I’m such good friends with Sarah and Nancy Ann, I might have even . . . loathed you.” She winced, but he just chuckled.
“I understand. It’s not pleasant to hear, but I do understand. Tell me, Grace, do you believe people can change?”
“I do, yes, and I see evidence of it in you. That’s why this whole thing has me so flabbergasted.” She shook her head, wishing anything made sense. “A courtship seems . . . rather premature, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps we won’t call it a courtship, then. How about, a man and a woman who are spending time together to see if they’re compatible.”
She laughed, realizing the ridiculousness of the situation. “I believe you just described a courtship.”
He pasted a look of surprise on his face. “I did? Well, what do you know?” Then his face grew solemn again, and he reached across the table to where her hand lay next to her discarded plate. He moved as if to take her hand, but instead, he traced a small circle on the back of it. “Will you consider it, Grace?”
A tingle raced up her arm at his gentle touch, and she almost yanked her arm back, she was so startled to be reacting to him that way. Instead, she looked into his eyes, at the sincerity there, and also the pleading, although he tried to mask that part. “I’ll consider it,” she said, her voice catching a little bit in her throat. What was she doing? This was so unexpected, not only at this time in her life, but the man who was asking. It seemed foolish to agree, but things didn’t always have to make sense, did they?
A slow grin spread across Gilbert’s face. “I’ll take that as a good sign,” he said.
Just then, Mrs. Dempsey bustled back in and offered them cake. They both accepted, she cut them generous slices, and then she dished up for those in the dining room. Once she was gone again, Gilbert said, “You loathed me, huh?”
Grace’s face felt as though it had been set on fire. “Um, yes. Just a little.”
“‘Loathe’ is a pretty strong word. I’m not sure you can loathe something just a little.”
“Then maybe I loathed you a lot, but I don’t loathe you that much anymore. Does that work?”
He laughed. “That works. It’s progress, at least.”
Chapter Eleven
“Mrs. Dempsey is a good cook, but the Brody is definitely superior,” Gilbert said as he held the gate open for Grace. He didn’t know if there was a certain spice missing or what it might be, but he didn’t feel quite as satisfied as he did eating at the hotel.
“Do you mean that, or are you just trying to get on my good side?”
“I definitely mean it, and if it helps me get on your good side, I consider that an additional benefit.” He took her elbow and steered her around a mud puddle on the street, then they continued their walk back to the Brody. It would have been nicer to offer Grace a carriage ride, but considering the short distance from door to door, there wasn’t really a point—and he wasn’t altogether pleased with the livery stable at the moment. They wouldn’t be getting any more of his business. Maybe after he moved here and got a carriage of his own.
“Mrs. Dempsey has a sewing machine, and she lets us come over and use it as long as we provide the thread and everything else we need. It’s amazing, really. It saves hours and hours of work.” She paused. “I realize that sounds rather silly. Sewing machines aren’t new, after all. It’s just that I’ve never had one, and so I’m rather amazed by the difference.”
Gilbert thought her enthusiasm was charming. “Did you make that dress on a sewing machine?” he asked, nodding at what she wore.
“I did. And look at this hem.” She bent over and turned up her hem just one inch so he could see what she meant. “Every stitch is perfect, and it was done in a matter of minutes. It would have taken me an afternoon by hand.”
“That is impressive,” Gilbert replied. He’d actually never given any thought into how long it took to sew by hand. That was another one of those things that went on in the background.
“Again, I’m being silly. I’m sorry.”
“No, not at all. Do you want to have a sewing machine of your own someday?”
“I do. But saving up for a pistol was my first priority.” She flashed him a smile.
“Are you carrying it right now?” he asked, curious. Did it go everywhere with her, or just on long rides to the river?
“Should I be? Am I in danger?”
“No, not at all. I just wondered.”
She laughed. “It’s tucked away in my room. I figured that since you’re my escort for the evening, my safety was in your hands.”
He gave a short mock bow. “I will do my best to deserve such trust.”
They reached the spot in the road where they would cross to get to the hotel, and stepped out into the street. Just then, a wagon careened around the corner, the horse obviously out of control, the driver yelling, “Look out! Look out!”
With Grace’s teasing admonition to protect her ringing in his ears, Gilbert took hold of her waist and all but threw her out of the way. He watched her stumble to catch her footing, but she was protected in the shadow of the building. There wasn’t time to save himself, however, and he saw the horse in his peripheral vision as he turned. Pain, so much pain as he was struck by the front of the wagon, and more pain as the rear wheel passe
d over him. He could hear Grace screaming, the driver yelling—and then the pain was too much.
***
“Gilbert!” Grace screamed as she ran to his side. The wagon had continued down the road, and three men had lunged after the horse’s bridle to bring the rig to a stop. Grace flung herself down on the ground and looked into Gilbert’s face. He looked as though he’d gone unconscious, but at least he was still breathing.
“Are you all right, miss?” A man trotted up to her, concern in his eyes.
“I’m all right, but we need a doctor for this man,” she told him.
“I’ll go right now.” He took off down the street, and Grace turned back to Gilbert.
She had seen the wagon wheel pass over him, and she couldn’t even begin to guess how much damage that had done to him. Surely it had broken bones. Surely he was bleeding inside. Her hands trembled, and it was suddenly hard to focus. Stephen would have to be notified, of course, and a telegram should be sent to their mother. Gilbert would likely have a long recovery, even if he didn’t need surgery, but he probably would need surgery, and—
“Grace?”
She pulled in a deep breath and looked up. It was Alexandra Evans, a woman who had come to town not long before and set up a dress shop. She crouched down next to Grace and put a cool hand on her cheek. “I saw a man running up the street. Is he going for the doctor?”
Grace nodded.
“I’ll stay here with you until he comes. Are you hurt?”
“No. Just him.” Those were all the words Grace could manage.
“All right. Let’s take some deep breaths together. You look like you’re about to faint.”
“I think I might be,” Grace admitted.
“Well, let’s not.” Alexandra gave her a faint smile. “Come on now—deep breaths.”
Grace inhaled, and that much air at once made her feel even dizzier. But after a moment, she did begin to feel better. “Why is the doctor taking so long?”
“It’s only been a few minutes, dear. He’s probably getting the message just now.”
Just now? But it had been forever. “Why does this town have to be so big?”
Alexandra laughed out loud. “It’s really not that big. Listen, everything will be all right.” She looked around and called out to a young boy standing nearby. “I’ll give you a penny if you’ll run down to the hotel and ask someone to come.”
He took off before she’d even finished speaking.
She smiled and turned back to Grace. “I figure you can use all the friends you can get. Another deep breath.”
Grace tried to focus, tried to listen, but her brain wouldn’t stop spinning, and she felt like she might throw up, and all she wanted was for Gilbert to open his eyes and tell her he was going to be all right.
“He threw me out of the way,” she said. “That wagon would have struck me, but he got me out of the way, and that’s why he’s hurt.”
“And that’s how he wanted it,” Alexandra said. “He chose to take the injury to spare you from it.”
“But that’s just stupid,” Grace said, suddenly angry. “What kind of fool would choose to get run over by a wagon?”
“The kind of fool who cares enough about you that he’d do whatever it took to spare you the pain,” Alexandra replied gently.
Elizabeth and Posy came running up just then. “Oh, Grace,” Elizabeth said, falling to her knees as well. “What on earth?”
“He got hit by that wagon,” Grace said, gesturing down the street to where the horse was now being calmed down. She could see the driver repeatedly wiping his face, looking distraught, as he spoke with the marshal. Good—Colonel Gordon was asking questions. She didn’t want the driver to get in trouble because she knew it had been an accident, but she did feel better knowing that someone in authority had an eye on the situation.
Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Grace’s shoulders, then turned to Posy. “Would you please go back inside and tell Sarah? She’ll want to send for Stephen right away.”
Posy nodded and left at a run.
The next several minutes were nothing but a swirl of chaos as people came up and inquired, offered help, stood and stared—Grace couldn’t even listen to the exclamations and condolences and everything else that was going on. She didn’t want a drink, she didn’t want a parasol, she didn’t want a chair—she wanted the doctor to come. Where was he?
After seven eternities, Dr. Wayment’s wagon finally rumbled toward them. He hopped down almost before the horses had stopped moving.
“Everyone, step away,” he yelled, and the onlookers scattered at his command.
Grace scooted back, but found herself unable to go much beyond that. She felt numb and terrified all at the same time. She’d never supposed that was possible.
The doctor seemed able to work around her, though, and didn’t ask her to move. He felt along the length of Gilbert’s body carefully, then called over his shoulder. “I need two men to bring me the board from the back of the wagon.”
Jeanette, in the meantime, had knelt at Gilbert’s head, and ran her fingers along his neck. “I don’t feel any evidence of a broken neck.”
“Good. I, however, just found some broken ribs.” The doctor rocked back on his heels and spoke to the men who had just carried the board over. “Put it on the ground there. Yes, like that. Now, we’ll need to lift him and slide the board under him very carefully.”
With the help of several others, the doctor was able to raise Gilbert just high enough off the ground to slide the board beneath him. Then they lifted the board and put it in the back of the doctor’s wagon. He made sure everything was secure, and then he came back and knelt in front of Grace.
“I’m taking him back to my office, where I can do a more thorough examination. So far, I’ve found some broken ribs. Can you tell me how he was injured exactly?”
“He . . . he was struck by the front of the wagon and went down, and then the rear wheel passed over his midsection,” Grace replied, seeing it happen again in her mind. She shuddered.
“Open your eyes for me, Grace.”
She complied, but it took her a moment.
He studied both eyes in turn. “Grace, you’re in shock. I’m going to leave you in Elizabeth’s care, and you’re to do everything she says. I’ll send word as soon as I know how your friend is doing.”
He then turned to Elizabeth. “I would leave Jeanette here, but I need her with me.”
“That’s all right,” Elizabeth replied. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Get her inside and to bed. Fold up some blankets and put them under her legs to bring more blood flow to her head. She’ll need a lot of water, and keep her warm. I’d recommend that someone stay nearby. Notice how her pupils are dilated? They should return to normal soon. If they don’t, send for me.”
“I can do that,” Elizabeth replied, and the doctor nodded.
“I’ll send word,” he repeated, and then he was off, climbing into the wagon and guiding it back to his office.
“Grace, we need to go inside now,” Elizabeth said, and Grace came to her feet. She lost her strength and began to sag, but Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Grace’s waist, and then Tom was there to help them the rest of the way. Grace felt ridiculous, reacting so strongly when she should be down there, helping, maybe even lending a hand at the doctor’s office, but no, she was a patient too, and she was frustrated with herself because of it. So frustrated.
Chapter Twelve
Giselle stood in the middle of the kitchen at the Brody Hotel, a look of total incredulity on her face. “I was only gone for a week,” she said. “How did all this happen in just one week?”
Grace, sitting at the kitchen table and sipping a bowl of broth, and Nora, doing the same, had just filled Giselle in on everything that had taken place over the last few days. “You were missed,” Grace said with a rueful chuckle.
“I couldn’t have prevented any of it from happening, but I could have lent a hand.” Gisell
e pulled in a deep breath. “My brain is spinning right now—I hardly know how to react. First things first.” She put a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “I’ll support you in any way you need. Just tell me what that might be.”
“Thank you,” Nora replied. “I will.”
Giselle then turned to Grace. “And you?”
“I’m all right, just rattled. I slept the night through, and hearing that Gilbert made it this long is a comfort.” They didn’t know yet, though, what all had to be done to care for him. Stephen had gone to sit with him as soon as he heard the news, and Grace imagined they had to receive a report soon, didn’t they? It was eight o’clock in the morning. The accident was twelve hours ago. They had to know something by now.
“I’ll go check in with Elizabeth, and then we’ll talk more about what needs to be done.” Giselle gave each girl a smile, then left the kitchen.
“I feel very sorry for Giselle,” Grace said, shaking her head. “We certainly just gave her a lot to think about.”
“She’ll probably be afraid to leave ever again, if this is what’s going to happen while she’s gone,” Nora said with a small chuckle.
“Would you look at the two of us? Two strong, capable women, sitting here sipping broth like invalids? And don’t tell me we are invalids—I refuse to believe that.” Grace shook her finger at Nora. “How are you feeling today, by the way?”
“I’m doing all right. I think that time in bed was just what I needed. Of course, I’ll need to talk to Dr. Wayment before I’ll know for sure.”
Another reminder that they hadn’t heard anything about Gilbert yet. Grace forced that thought out of her mind. “I heard Elizabeth say that she’d assign you to the front to take payments, and she’ll fill in waitressing. You can sit on a stool the whole time, and that should be easier for you.”
“Oh, that will be easier.” Nora tilted her head. “I’m not sure you’re all right, though.”
“I’m much better than I was.”
An Unspoken Dream (Kansas Crossroads Book 13) Page 7
