Amon (Prairie Grooms, Book Seven)

by Kit Morgan

  “Which is why I’m joining you! I’ve seen my share of disease and sickness in India, maybe I can help.”

  Cutty studied her a moment, weighing the possibilities. She might be a help at that. Besides, he knew how stubborn the woman could be – even if he demanded she stay in the mercantile, she’d probably come along anyway. “Oh, all right, but stay out in the parlor. If’n Doc Drake or Waller wants to ask ya somethin’, they can go to the parlor to do it.”

  “Fine,” she said and together, the little group left the mercantile for the Drakes’ and Wallers’ home.

  Once inside, Grandma went straight to the kitchen. “Bowen!”

  Bowen Drake looked up from the kitchen table, a cup of coffee halfway to his lips. “Grandma, is something wrong?” He looked past her to the group in the hall and jumped up from the table. Amon was being supported by Cutty and Wilfred. “Put him in the patient room, now.”

  They guided Amon through the kitchen and into the room beyond, where they laid him on the bed while Doc Drake gathered what he’d need to examine him. “What happened?”

  “We don’t know,” Grandma told him. “He was fine, then he almost fell over.”

  “Amon?” Doc Drake asked.

  “Nettie …” Amon breathed. “Take care of Nettie.”

  Doc Drake turned and looked at Nettie. “You too? What’s wrong?”

  She gave him a helpless shrug. “I feel a little strange, but nothing like Amon.”

  “Sit down just in case,” he instructed her, pointing to a chair by the bed. “How long has he been like this?”

  “Just a few minutes, I believe,” she said and sat.

  “What are your symptoms?”

  “I was fine yesterday. A little light-headed perhaps, but …” She looked helplessly at Cutty.

  “They’ve both seemed fine to me. Nettie … well, the only thing ailing her is she’s in love with Amon.”

  “Cutty!” Nettie breathed.

  “Land sakes, child, ya don’t have to act like you’re ashamed of it,” Grandma scolded.

  “Besides,” Cutty continued, “it ain’t like the whole town don’t know already. Amon, on the other hand …well, yesterday he was more interested in a tree than my dau … er, ah … poor Nettie here. That’d upset any gal in love, I reckon. But ya know how Amon can be.”

  “Yes, I do,” agreed Doc Drake as he began to poke and prod the patient.

  Imogene stepped forward and stood next to Cutty. “Does he have a fever?”

  “I thought I told ya to wait in the parlor!” Cutty admonished.

  “Oh, stuff it,” Imogene huffed.

  “What?!” Cutty huffed back.

  “Get out, both of you,” Doc Drake ordered. “I won’t abide the two of you arguing while I’m trying to work.”

  “Fine,” Cutty grumbled, grabbed Imogene by the hand and pulled her out of the room.

  Grandma and Wilfred exchanged a quick glance, then turned back to Amon. “Will he be all right, Doc?” Wilfred asked.

  “Once I figure out what’s wrong with him. But that’s the difficult part.” He looked at Nettie, then turned to them. “I haven’t got a clue what that might be.”

  * * *

  Nettie, having been checked out by Doc Drake and found safe and sound, sat in the parlor next to Imogene and chewed on her bottom lip. “Stop that,” Cutty scolded. “Before ya bite yourself so hard ya start bleedin’.”

  “I can’t help it, I feel so … so …”

  Cutty sighed. “Helpless.”

  “Yes.”

  He studied her. “You feelin’ weak? Tired? Ya gonna faint?”

  “She’s fine, Cutty. Stop worrying,” Imogene told him. “What we all need is some food. We’ve been in here for two hours now. It’s lunchtime.”

  “You hungry?” Cutty asked Nettie.

  She shook her head as she put a hand to her belly. “I can’t think of food right now.” Her lower lip trembled. “How much longer do you think the doctors will be?”

  “Don’t know,” Cutty said, his eyes fixed on her. “All I know is this is tearing ya up, ain’t it?”

  Unable to help herself, she flung herself into his arms. “Oh Cutty, if anything happens to Amon I’ll die! I just know it!”

  Cutty’s eyes went wide. He glanced at Imogene, who sat still as a statue watching them. “Now, honey, he ain’t as bad off as all that. Doc Drake’s a miracle worker, he is. He can …” Cutty closed his eyes as his shoulders shook with emotion. For some reason, he sensed her pain, her anguish. No … he knew exactly what the reason was. He swallowed hard. “He can fix this … I know he can.”

  Nettie pushed away and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m reacting this way. I hardly know the man!”

  “Ain’t no shame in cryin’,” he said gently. “Heck, ya see these?” He pointed to his face. “I got ‘em too.”

  Nettie shook her head, her tears coming again. “What is wrong with me?”

  “You’re in love, simple as that,” Imogene said.

  “But I don’t know him …”

  “Sometimes you don’t have to,” Imogene explained. “It happens for no rhyme or reason. You see a man, one you hardly know, spend a little time, and love hits you unexpectedly. Maybe you never even see him again …”

  Nettie sniffed back her tears and stared at her. “You sound as if … you know firsthand.”

  Imogene gave her a compassionate look. “I do.”

  Cutty swallowed hard and steered Nettie back to the settee. “You sit here. I’ll see how they’re getting’ along in there. Be right back.” He left the room.”

  Nettie nodded, unable to speak. She was spent – with each passing moment she felt herself draining away, as if all her strength was being sucked out of her. If it continued, she’d have to say something. Whatever Amon had, she probably had it too despite Doc Drake’s assurances … “What if he dies?” she whispered.

  “Don’t do this to yourself, girl,” Imogene said sternly.

  Nettie looked at her. “I … I didn’t even know I was in love with him … and now, to think of losing him …”

  Imogene put an arm around her. “I know just how you feel. I loved a man a long time ago. Of course, he didn’t even know I was alive. He ignored me for the most part and so I sought the affections of another. But I’ve never forgotten him. And I never will.”

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  “No, but now that I look back on it, I suppose that’s a good thing.”

  Nettie’s focus was broken by Cutty as he re-entered the room. “He’s askin’ for ya.”

  “Oh no!” Nettie jumped to her feet and raced to the back of the house.

  Once in the patient room she stopped short. Amon looked terrible – his skin pale, his eyes weak. Her hands flew to her mouth and she spun on Doc Drake and Doc Waller. “Can’t you do anything?”

  Doc Drake shook his head. “If only we knew what was wrong. We’ve given him a few things, but only time will let us know if they work.”

  Nettie sat in the chair next to the bed and took Amon’s hand in hers. He turned his tired eyes to her … and their color began to brighten. She smiled down at him and squeezed his hand. He moaned, but not in pain, and took a few deep breaths. She too gasped for air, but had no idea why. Was she sensing … feeling his pain somehow? She’d heard of such things between lovers, but Amon hadn’t so much as kissed her yet! Unless one counted the peck on her cheek the other day.

  “He needs to rest, then we can see if the medicine we gave him worked,” Doc Waller explained.

  “What did you give him?” she asked, never taking her eyes from Amon’s.

  “Some laudanum for the pain, and … something else.”

  “What?”

  Doc Drake took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Something we have very little of, I’m afraid. In fact, we thought we’d used it all on Ryder Jones when he got bit by a rattlesnake a couple of months ago. But Grandma found another vial of it.” />
  Nettie forced her gaze from Amon and looked at them. “What is it?”

  Doc Drake pressed his lips together a moment before answering. “We don’t actually know. We just know it works.”

  Nettie’s eyes widened. “What? You gave him something you know nothing about?” She stood, her hand still holding Amon’s. “What kind of physicians are you?!”

  “Desperate ones,” Doc Waller replied. “Miles away from the nearest city.”

  “A Mrs. MacDonald gave it to us … it’s a long story, one we won’t go into now,” Doc Drake explained. “Stay with him, Miss Whitman. He seems to be doing better now that you’re in the room.”

  She looked at Amon. “I’ll not leave him again.”

  “Good. In the meantime, we’ll get you something to eat. And I need to speak with your brother - he might be able to help us figure this out. Do you know where I might find him?”

  Nettie stared at him. “No … I have no idea where he is.”

  * * *

  Newton guided his horse further into the woods. He had no idea what was driving him, but he’d needed to get out of town.

  He’d gone to the livery stable after breakfast, borrowed a horse from Chase, the blacksmith, and set out across the prairie. At the time he’d just needed to ride, to feel the wind in his face from the back of a horse, to feel free again after so many months of being cooped up, first in the ship and later in his hotel room. But there was also a sense of loss that had been worrying at him, and he wondered if Nettie and Amon’s upcoming marriage was affecting him more than he knew.

  True, twins were more attached to each other than most siblings, and he and Nettie were no exception. They were practically joined at the hip – they’d never been apart. Once she married Amon, they would be, for the first time in their lives. Maybe that’s why he passed through the flowered meadow and into the trees, both of which Amon loved so much.

  He stopped his horse a moment and stared up at the branches. Sunlight came in sporadic streams through them as a breeze pushed them to and fro. He sighed heavily, his weariness of the last few months catching up with him. He hated being alone, and for the first time in his life he was going to be. The thought was terrifying.

  Voices.

  Newton’s heart raced as he turned his horse on the faint trail and studied his surroundings. He felt a prickle of warning and knew what he heard was real. He was not alone.

  They came again, male voices carried on the breeze. Newton dismounted, tied his horse to a low-hanging branch, then carefully made his way along the faint trail toward the sounds.

  It didn’t take him long to find the source, and he relaxed when he spied familiar figures through the trees – Seth and Ryder Jones. He stood straight, belatedly realizing he’d been skulking along in a half-crouch. He was about to call out to them to alert them to his presence, when he felt someone else behind him.

  Newton froze. Was it the huge black man he’d met in these same woods a few days ago? Or somebody else? All he did know was he had an overwhelming sense of fear mixed with an odd calm. It was the strangest sensation he had ever felt in his life.

  He swallowed hard, drew in a breath and, every muscle tensed, spun around. And then he gaped like a schoolboy.

  The woman was beautiful, incredible, like none he had ever seen. She was dressed in rags, much like the tall African he’d met in these same woods only days ago. But her skin, though dark, was not the ebony black of the other. It was a rich mahogany, beautiful, without blemish or mark, her eyes a golden amber –

  “Gailah de uhn seh?” she said, her voice soft, compelling, perhaps even addictive if a man wasn’t careful.

  Newton swallowed hard, took a step back, then noticed how tall she was – she might even have an inch or two on him, and he wasn’t short. “Ma’am?” he said, his voice weak. He swallowed hard, unable to help himself.

  “Newton? Is that you?” Seth called from behind him.

  “Uh-huh,” Newton croaked as he continued to gawk at the magnificent woman standing before him. She had to be an escaped slave … but then, hadn’t Seth told him the African man was free? Was the woman in front of him also free, or had the man helped her to escape her master?

  “Newton,” Seth called again as he came through the trees. “What are you doing out here?”

  The woman smiled, looked at something beyond Newton and sidestepping off the trail, glided past him and Seth to … oh, there was the big man, standing with Ryder! Newton turned as she moved, still unable to take his eyes off her. Just as he’d suspected, she must be his wife. She went directly to him. He took her into his arms and kissed her soundly, then spoke to her in a language Newton could not identify. Some African dialect, no doubt. He looked at Newton. “We go now, yes?”

  Newton shook himself, then glanced at Seth and Ryder. “Go? Where?”

  “It is time,” the woman told the man then looked at Newton as well.

  “Time for what?”

  The big African smiled broadly as he gently stroked the cheek of the woman, kissed it, then looked at Newton again. “To find your sister.”

  Twenty-One

  “Water,” Amon rasped.

  Nettie glanced around, spied a pitcher and glass atop a dresser and quickly poured him some. It was hard to take her eyes off him, or even let go of his hand. Perhaps she was sick – when she did let go of him, she felt as if she were sailing off a cliff. Was this some strange fever she’d picked up during their journey to America? If so, what was it? None she had ever heard of, that was certain.

  And why would Amon contract it and not Newton or Cutty? The four of them were together each time Amon had come to call. Maybe it depended on how strong a person was. Maybe Amon had been ill before and not fully recovered, so the mystery disease was able to take hold of him first.

  Nettie returned to the bed, sat, then tried to pull Amon up with her free hand so he could drink. When she held the glass to his lips he did so greedily and for the first time she noticed his cheeks had taken on a grey tinge. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no …”

  “Nettie,” he said, his voice weak. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea … I was this sick.”

  “You were fine yesterday! I don’t understand!” she said, her voice laced with panic. “This can’t be happening. Why …” She choked. “Why is this happening now?”

  “Now?”

  Their gazed locked and she set the glass on a small bedside table. “Now, when I’ve just discovered that … that I love you …”

  He gave her a weak smile, reached up and cupped her face with his hand. “And I love you, Nettie … my beautiful Nettie.”

  He gasped for air, and it almost did her in. She grabbed his hands and held them tight. She didn’t know what to do and felt utterly helpless. “Doctor Drake!” she shrieked.

  The young doctor rushed into the room, took one look at Amon and nudged Nettie out of the way. “How long has he been like this? He looked so much better not a half-hour ago!”

  “I just noticed it too,” she said, now standing off to one side of the bed. “His color changed in a matter of minutes.”

  Doc Drake put his hand against Amon’s forehead. “No fever …” He bowed his head a moment, eyes closed, then looked at Nettie. “Step outside, please.”

  She shook her head. “No! I won’t leave him!”

  “Miss Whitman, I will only ask you once more. Leave me alone with him.”

  A chill went through her as she took a step back. Doc Drake watched her and she caught his eye. “I don’t want him to die without me by his side,” she mouthed.

  “I’m going to make sure he doesn’t,” he whispered back.

  She nodded, turned and left the room.

  Bowen Drake proceeded to do the only thing he could think of to save the man on the bed, who was quite obviously dying. He took Amon’s hands in his and started to pray.

  * * *

  Nettie went down the hall, past the parlor and out the front door. She heard Cutty cal
l after her, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. For the moment, she needed to just breathe.

  Every time Amon had gasped for air, her own chest tightened, accompanied by the strange thought that he was the man the Almighty had planned for her all along. Why else would she feel so connected to him, even more than she and Newton were connected as twins? And now that she was finally here to marry him, he was going to die?! Her chest burned with the thought and she threw her face into her hands, but no tears came. She was all cried out.

  “Well, lookie here! If’n it ain’t Miss High-‘n-Mighty!”

  Nettie froze, then slowly looked up to see Clinton Moresy standing at the bottom step of the porch, sneering up at her. “Where’s your fee-awn-say – he already give up? Change his mind?”

  “Go away!” she said, louder than she’d intended.

  Clinton strode up onto the porch. “No way! I got as much claim to ya as that rat Cotter.”

  “I said go away, you little worm!”

  Clinton stepped back. “Woo-ee! Yer a feisty one, ain’tcha?” He reached for her, his fingers like talons. “I like my women feisty –”

  “You there!” came a shout from down the street.

  Clinton paled. “Uh-oh …”

  Irene Dunnigan had launched herself off the mercantile porch and, cast-iron ladle in hand, was marching toward them. “What do you think you’re doing, Moresy, you no-good scoundrel?”

  Clinton quickly glanced around for a potential escape route. “Nothin’. Just, uh, havin’ a friendly conversation with the lady here –”

  “No, he wasn’t!” Nettie sobbed at the top of her lungs. Death might come for her and Amon both, but she was not going to let a blackguard like Clinton Moresy get away with a lie at her expense. Or anything else, for that matter.

  Cutty and Imogene came out the front door before anyone else could comment. “Clinton Moresy!” Cutty bellowed. “’Less’n yer mortally wounded, ya got no business bein’ on this porch!”

  “Oh yeah?” Clinton hissed. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”