Time's Enduring Love

by Tia Dani

  "A couple of times." Luke stepped back giving her more room. "He's moaned too. Will he be all right?"

  Libby gently removed the makeshift bandage Harriet had placed on Matthew's head. She smiled at the fine job Harriet had done cleaning the wound. The bleeding was almost stopped. Good. Head wounds could bleed profusely. She lifted one of Matthew's eyelids and pulled the lantern closer. His pupil hadn't dilated. "He'll be all right. He was fortunate you used a soft piece of wood instead of hard oak or maple."

  Luke looked down at this hand. "The wood was half-rotten. You said you didn't want Getz out cold, and I thought it would do the trick. I guess I got riled, seeing him paw you and swung too hard. You know, it didn't look like Matthew." His expression turned curious. "What was he doing there, anyway?"

  Libby flushed and began digging inside her kit until she found her small suturing bag and antiseptic. "That's between Matthew and myself."

  "I understand, Libby," Luke said softly. "At first when I walked up I thought Getz was attacking you, but—"

  "Leave it, will you?" Libby's face flashed hot as a sterilizer. She turned her back on Luke and probed Matthew's wound. He moaned once and tried to move his head. "Here," she said, hold him down, so I can sew the cut."

  Luke hesitated. "I don't think I can."

  She frowned at him. "Why? Are you squeamish?"

  "No," He held up his hand, and, for the first time, Libby noticed the swelling. "Damn firewood ricocheted and whacked me good. I guess it serves me right. I feel bad about Matthew."

  Libby rolled her eyes and said aloud. "Lord, save me from drunks and fools."

  "I'm not a fool, but I wish I was drunk."

  She laughed and nodded. "I know you're not, Luke, you're a lover." She gently probed his hand, ignoring his wince. "As far as I can tell, nothing's broken. I think you sprained it. I tell you what. Go trade places with my father. He'll help me with Matthew." She looked around the kitchen. "By the way, where did everybody go?"

  "They all went to the barn. Joseph decided it might be a good idea, to keep everyone else in the dark about what's going on here."

  Libby thought of the five children and had her doubts how long the others would be kept in the dark. She smiled and waved a hand toward the parlor. "Go get my dad. I'll wrap your hand later."

  "Uh, Libby?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you still going to fix Getz?"

  Libby paused, thinking of Sarah upstairs. The pain along her arm reminded her of her determination. "Yes, I'll still fix him proper."

  "You want my help?"

  "Yes, I want you to be a witness."

  Luke looked at her. His gaze drifted upward, and Libby knew he was thinking of Sarah. He nodded suddenly. "All right. Don't take too long. If Matthew is starting to wake up, it's a good bet Getz won't be far behind."

  She laughed. "I don't know, Matthew hit him pretty hard. But if he happens to wake up, hit him over the head again with something. Only..." she added with a smile, "use your good hand."

  He gave her a sheepish smile and went to the parlor.

  It wasn't long until Theo appeared. "So, you need my help, do you?"

  "Yes, wash your hands. Then come over and hold Matthew down."

  He looked at her in surprise. "Me? Why he has twice the strength I have."

  She grinned at him. "Come on, Dad, I've seen you lift plenty of things. I know how strong you are."

  Theo chuckled and headed for the dry sink.

  While she waited for her father Libby, held the suture needle and studied Matthew's face. Gone were the creased lines of sorrow and anger. His smooth features revealed a vulnerability she'd never suspected. Did the years of blame for a little girl's death put those worry line on his waking face? Did he find peace only in deep sleep?

  Unreasonable resentment toward Elizabeth flared within Libby's breast. How dare the girl die and leave Matthew with a lifetime of guilt!

  "Are you all right?"

  Libby glanced at her father. No. She wanted to shout the word aloud. How can I be all right when Matthew hurts the way he does? Instead, she answered quietly. "Yes."

  Theo watched her sew two tiny stitches before he spoke again. "Is there something you think I should know? As a concerned father, I mean."

  Libby glanced up, staring directly into his kindly eyes. "Dad, I can't lie to you. There's something about Matthew when he kisses me. I lose all sense of propriety." Blushing, she ducked her head and resumed her work.

  "I trust you, Libby. I know you wouldn't do anything you weren't sure of."

  Yeah, she used to think so, too. Until Matthew Domé entered her life. Keeping her eyes on her task, Libby murmured softly, "I think I might be falling in love with him."

  The room went silent. For several seconds, neither of them said a word. As sweat beaded on her brow, Libby wiped her sleeve across her eyes, and ignored the tears forming there. With wavering concentration, she went back to her suturing. "I can't be in love with him, Dad," she said softly. "Someday, you and I will go back to our time. Matthew will stay here. Part of me wants to take advantage of every minute we have together. Except," she amended with a slight smile, "when we're not fighting over something stupid."

  "Libby?" Her father's voice faltered. "What if something happens and you don't go back? What then?"

  "Not go back?" Her hands stilled, and she looked at him in surprise. "But, I thought you said we would go back."

  "I said it was possible."

  "But...but..." Libby thought about what he said. What would it mean to never go back to the 20th century where she had every modern comfort known to man? To stay and grow old in a time filled with hardship, dangers and no conveniences? She shook her head, refusing to believe she wouldn't go back. "We're going back. I'm sure of it. I'm needed there. I have my practice to start."

  "You could be needed here."

  "No, I'm a 20th century doctor, not a 19th century one. I'm trained to use drugs, medical equipment and procedures which aren't invented yet. What good would I be here?"

  "Enough to make a difference." He waved a hand at Matthew, who seemed to be resting quietly now. "You already have. Sarah will need you, once her baby starts to come."

  Libby paused. Her father's words made sense, but she still didn't want to believe it. "Okay, I'll grant you I can do some good here, but I still can't accept we're not going back."

  "Have you given any consideration to why we came in the first place?"

  She frowned at the intensity of his voice. "No, I supposed it was a freak of nature. One," she added, "which will correct itself soon." Suddenly, she thought about his motives. "You've considered it, haven't you?"

  "Yes, I have." Her father picked up some of the soiled cloths and put them into a wooden bowl.

  "So," she prompted. "What's your theory?"

  "I really can't say. At least, not yet."

  "You mean you're not going to give me a hint?"

  "Not until I'm sure."

  "When will you know?" Libby's patience had worn too thin for mysteries. She threw up her hands in defeat. "Wonderful. Meanwhile, I'll putter around, playing 19th century doctor, while you decide."

  Theo laughed. "Sounds like a plan. By the way, Doctor, since you're finished with your patient here, where do you want him? He can't lie on the table for the rest of the night."

  Libby glanced at Matthew and grinned. He was flat on his back with his feet hanging off the end the table. "Why not, he looks comfortable enough."

  "Libby." Theo shook a finger at her. "Behave yourself."

  "Oh, all right. He can go upstairs to the spare room. Hopefully the bed is big enough to hold all of him. Sarah's in Luke's bedroom."

  "We're going to need some help getting him up there."

  She eyed Matthew's large frame and nodded. "Joseph and Tim can help."

  She stepped into the starry night. A chill breeze brushed her face, and Libby wrapped her arms close for warmth. Light spilled from the barn doors, but the silence surprised he
r. Joseph and Tim stood just outside the brightness. When they noticed her walking toward them, Tim called out. "How are they doin'?"

  "Sarah's fine," she replied. "The baby's not ready to be born. Matthew and Getz are still unconscious."

  Tim whistled. "Got to be some sort of record. Two men out so long."

  "I suppose so. Listen, I need assistance with Matthew. Can the two of you help carry him upstairs?"

  "Sure," Tim turned to the abnormally quiet Joseph. "Come on, Joe."

  Libby noticed Joseph rub his stomach before he nodded. She remembered how he'd joked earlier about eating too many of Harold T.'s chili beans for lunch. "Those beans of Harold T.'s still bothering you?"

  He grinned at her and nodded. "Yeah, 'fraid so. I keep getting a pain right here." He pointed to the right side of his abdomen.

  She frowned. "It might be something else."

  "Naw. I've had it before. His beans do it to me all the time. Give it a couple hours, and I'll be back to normal."

  Since he seemed so sure, Libby accepted his word then decided to add a final warning. "If you don't, let me know, all right?"

  He grinned at her. "You bet, Doc."

  "So you don't mind a female being a doctor?"

  "Mind?" He looked at her in disbelief. "Hell, we need a doctor out here real bad. You coming is a Godsend."

  Tim nodded. "Even truth. Everybody feels the same way. When they heard you were doctor, they all started talkin'. Especially, the women. They don't care yo're a woman."

  Libby glanced toward the barn. "It's so quiet. Where is everyone?"

  "Gone home, mostly. Oh, there's a few stragglers out back, enjoyin' Getz's brew, but I reckon they'll be moseyin' on after a while."

  "This late?" Libby glanced at her wrist out of habit and frowned. She wondered if she'd ever get used to not having her wristwatch with her. It was at home on her dresser in 1966. She hadn't wanted to wear anything not authentic during the reenactment. Some reenactment it turned out to be. "What time is it, anyway?"

  Joseph pulled out a gold pocket watch and opened the lid. He tilted it toward the light coming from the barn. "Eight o'clock."

  Libby thought of Claude Getz. She needed to get started on him soon. There was no telling how long it would take. "We've got to go to the house. I...I still need to tend to Mr. Getz."

  Tim looked at her in surprise. "What's wrong with him? He didn't look hurt when I carried him."

  "He...he's not hurt on the outside, but Matthew hit him pretty hard. I need to make sure he doesn't have a concussion." There was some truth in what she said, but, for a moment, she had the urge to cross her fingers. Thankfully, both men accepted her excuse. They nodded and followed her to the house without further comment.

  As the men tended to Matthew, Libby slipped into the parlor. Getz lay on a small settee, his head propped up with pillows. Luke sat in a chair holding a book with his good hand. His injured hand rested in a bucket. She grinned and asked quietly, "Soaking your hand?"

  Luke jumped, almost dropping the book. "God, you startled me. I wasn't expecting you."

  "Who were you expecting?"

  He looked at her and frowned. "Nobody."

  She moved closer to him and peered into the bucket. Chunks of ice floated in water. "Ice water, huh? Your idea?"

  "No, your father's. He brought the bucket in a few minutes ago."

  "I take it you have ice stored in your cellar?"

  "Certainly. During the winter, we cut ice on Jacob Basgal's pond and bring it back. Matt was the one who thought of using wood shavings to help preserve it through the summer."

  Libby didn't know if she had twenty minutes or a half hour before Getz regained consciousness. His pupil appeared slightly dilated but not abnormally so. Libby pulled up a foot stool and plopped down on it. She needed to rest. She closed her eyes and thought about what it must have been like to saw huge chunks of ice and transport them back to the farmhouses. It would have been back-breaking work. She remembered the stern daguerreotype she'd seen of Jacob in the Basgal family album. He glared at the camera with hard lines between his thick eyebrows. Even in old age, the blacksmith looked powerful enough to shoe a Clydesdale.

  Opening her eyes and turning to Luke she said softly. 'I'd like to meet Joseph's father, How come old Jacob didn't come to your party?"

  Luke snorted. "That old codger. He's too stubborn to do anything he thinks is non-productive."

  "I see." Libby pulled out the glass paperweight from her pocket and held it to the light. She loved the colors reflecting from the flickering lantern. "Why is Joseph helping Katherine instead of his father?"

  "Because." Luke glanced at the paperweight then back at her. "Jacob wants it that way. He feels guilty about what happened to Katherine's first husband."

  The more she heard about the prairie fire twenty years ago, the more fascinated she became. "Why?"

  "He was the one who insisted they all return to the wagon train instead of trying to skirt the fire and look for Matt and Elizabeth. John Meyers disagreed and took off alone. So when they discovered Katherine's husband dead, and later, Matt nearly buried up to his head, screaming Elizabeth was beneath the dirt too, Jacob couldn't stand it. He's been trying ever since to make it up to Katherine."

  "I see," Libby rolled the paperweight between her palms as she visualized the scene Luke described. "If he hadn't insisted on going back, then maybe John Meyers wouldn't have died, nor Elizabeth."

  "That's about the size of it."

  How could one little girl be responsible for so many people's grief? "Luke? What about Matthew?"

  "What about him?"

  "Katherine says he blames himself for Elizabeth's death. Like Jacob Basgal."

  "I know." Luke stared into space as if lost in his own thoughts. Finally he added, "Believe it or not, I just found out today. Joseph told me. He said Matt admitted it. You have to understand a little about Elizabeth. She trailed after Matt. We used to tease him about having a shadow. She was a cute little kid, and we all liked her, but Matt thought the world of her. At the time, it seemed Matt was looking out for her. You know, her parents took him in after his folks drowned."

  A moan, coming from the settee stopped Luke from finishing. Libby stood and studied Getz. "I think it's time."

  Lines of worry creased Luke's brow. He rubbed his good hand over his face and sighed. "If it wasn't for Sarah's sake," he said slowly, "I'd say the hell with this. What if something goes wrong?"

  "It will be all right." Libby understood Luke's concern, and to tell the truth, she was a bit worried herself. Getz wasn't one of her fellow classmates willing to be a test subject. The man had a violent streak that could have put the Quantrill Raiders to shame. If what she was about to do didn't work, she and Luke would have a very angry man on their hands and a lot of explaining to do. Libby went through her breathing ritual to gather her courage. "Here," she said, picking up the lantern. "Hold this up when I tell you. I want it at an angle." She held the lantern a few inches below eye level.

  "Why?" Luke pulled his injured hand from the ice water and patted it gingerly with the towel sitting beside the bucket.

  "Because I want the light to come at an angle through this." She picked up the paperweight and passed it in front of the lantern. The crystal shone with several colors, lighting up her hand.

  Getz moaned louder and moved his head back and forth. Luke frowned and took the lantern from her. "Okay, you're the doctor."

  Libby knelt next to the settee. "Claude," she said softly. "Relax. You're in a comfortable chair. Relax and notice the light."

  "Wh...aa...t?" Getz mumbled something unintelligible and then coughed. "Wha..aat?"

  "Relax..." Libby spoke again. "You're doing fine."

  In a voice more like his own, but still not quite normal, Getz said simply, "Oh."

  "You learned to make good beer. You're learning new things all the time. Look at the light and think about learning, and relax more and more deeply."

  Chapter Tw
enty-two

  Matthew awoke with a throbbing head. He reached up and touched a bandage wrapped tighter than a new hat. The long strip of cloth held a thick pad of material against the side of his head. He found the source of his pain.

  "I see you've decided to join us."

  Theo Strammon's voice startled him. Matthew forced his eyes open and groaned when sunlight instantly blinded him, sending a fresh, new pain to his head. He closed his eyes and rolled away from the light.

  "Pretty painful?"

  Matthew didn't dare acknowledge Theo's question with a nod, his head hurt too much. He licked his lips and croaked, "The light."

  "Oh, sorry. I should have realized."

  Sounds of curtains being closed followed. Theo said cheerfully, "All right, try opening your eyes."

  Carefully, Matthew raised his eyelids. "Better." He cleared his dry throat and looked around, realizing he was in a bedroom. Bits of memory returned along with his eyesight. He remembered seeing a man's shadow swing something at his head. "How long have I been out?"

  "Quite awhile. About fourteen hours."

  Matthew fingered the bandage. There was something else. Something about Getz. Awareness of other pain filtered through his hazy brain. His hand hurt as bad as his head. He lowered his hand and looked at it. The knuckles throbbed and for good reason. Red, swollen, and bruised, they looked much like the time when he got into a fight. Did Getz come out of the shadows to swing at him?

  "Having trouble remembering?"

  Matthew nodded. Sparks of pain shot across the top of his head and traveled clear to his toes. He winced. "God," he groaned. "What did he hit me with? A hammer?"

  Theo chuckled. "A piece of firewood, actually. Libby said it was a lucky thing for you it was softwood, or you'd been hurting worse."

  Matthew stiffened, remembering more of last night. "Is she all right?"

  She's fine."

  "What about Getz?"

  "He's fine, too. The last I heard, he was out sealing Luke's new kegs of beer, happy as a lark."

  An image of Libby struggling with Getz flashed through his mind. With a curse, he remembered why there had been a fight. He threw back the covers and rose up. "Bastard. I'm going to kill him." As soon as he sat up, the room swayed.