Dr. Lee had dosed him heavily with laudanum before they moved him here. David had protested at first, but the doctor assured him that he wouldn’t give him too much of the drug, and that he would regret it if he refused. The trip was apt to be excruciating if he wasn’t medicated in advance.
Millie had heard stories about people who were given too much of the concoction. It could stop your heart, some said. She didn’t blame David for being wary. Not only was there a danger of overdose, but he was also the type of man who liked his wits about him. Knowing he hadn’t been in control of his faculties for hours at a time was probably a great frustration to him in his lucid moments.
At last he had given in, but he’d looked almost fearful. Millie was sure the pain and the uncertainty about his recovery had much to do with that. He looked like a frightened little boy as he lay waiting for the doctor to mix his tonic. Out of empathy so sharp that it hurt, Millie had reached for his hand and held it until Dr. Lee had the dose ready, and then she’d helped prop David up so that he could drink it without spilling.
She’d sat beside him afterward, while Dr. Lee repeatedly checked his pulse and respiration rate. David didn’t seem to mind when she reached out and patted his hand. When he slipped gently into slumber, the doctor summoned another man to help him get David into the wagon.
That was nearly twenty hours ago. Millie didn’t have a clock, but she consulted David’s watch occasionally, to reassure herself that the night was not really endless.
David hadn’t stirred for the first eight hours after they put him to bed in the hotel room. It was only as night came on that he began to move slightly now and then, and sometimes he let out a sound that might have been a garbled word or a moan. Millie felt his brow frequently, but he didn’t seem to have any fever. She used it as an excuse to brush the blond hair back from his forehead. He really was a striking man.
While the light lasted, she read off and on from her Bible. To save lamp oil—which guests must pay to replenish—she used a candle once true darkness had fallen. Candles cost less and gave enough light for her to get about the room, but the single taper’s illumination was too dim for her to read by without sitting very close to it and squinting. She’d put the volume aside hours ago and sat quietly, thinking about David and Sam, and even James, whom she rarely contemplated anymore.
She was growing very fond of David—again, she realized. She liked him even more than she had when she first knew him. He was smart and discreet, though his personality was not the warmest. He seemed to reserve the easy camaraderie she knew he was capable of for those he knew well and trusted.
Even the fact that he now eschewed her fueled Millie’s admiration for the handsome Englishman. After all, a true gentleman should avoid women like her—or such as she had once been. She didn’t take it as snobbery. Rather, she thought he might be quite devout, though he didn’t broadcast it. She’d had his Bible for some time now and had seen how well-worn it had become. She’d found dozens of passages underlined within the book, and her heart sang when she read them, because they often spoke to her own spirit, and she felt she shared something with him.
Dawn had turned the room gray when she startled awake again. A sharp pain hitched between her shoulder blades. She’d slumped in the chair, and she’d probably have a crick all day from it.
She arched her back and stretched her arms and legs. She glanced toward the pillow and froze. David’s eyes were open.
She jumped from the chair and bent over him. “You’re awake. Can I get you some water?”
He nodded, and she poured some from the pitcher on the washstand into a tumbler.
“It’s time for your medicine, too. Past time. I should have given it to you an hour ago, but I’m afraid I fell asleep.”
He blinked and said in a low, raspy voice, “Where are we?”
“At a hotel. Remember, Dr. Lee got some men to help move you?”
David shook his head.
“Well, we’re settled in here, and you must tell me if there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable. I need to mix your laudanum, but take a sip of water first. You’ll feel better.”
She helped him raise his head enough to take a small swallow from the glass.
“There. Now just lie still—”
“I need to get up.”
“Oh dear.” She’d feared this. “You can’t. You see, your leg is badly fractured. I’ll have to help you.”
He stared up at her. She’d never seen a man look so terrified.
“Or perhaps I can rout the boy out, though I hate to wake him.”
“Boy?”
“The one who carries the bags in for people.”
“Get him.”
Millie decided it was best to do as he wished. She set down the medicine bottle and scooted for the back stairs. If Billy wasn’t about yet, perhaps Mr. Simmons, the hotel’s owner, was. She’d try the kitchen first. Surely the cook would be there and could advise her.
Fifteen minutes later, David wished he hadn’t sent Millie away so fast. The boy might be able to help him tend to his personal needs, but he wouldn’t trust the lad to mix the opium tincture, and he hadn’t allowed Millie time to fix it. Consequently, the screaming pain in his leg got worse and worse.
He hated to take the laudanum. When he didn’t, he could think without it clouding his mind. But the pain! He supposed he’d have to give in to the opiate for a while longer.
At last he was settled in the bed again, though he wouldn’t say he was comfortable, and the boy stood back.
“Anything else I can do for you, sir?”
David said between clenched teeth, “Send Mrs. Evans in.”
“Right.”
A moment later Millie was at his side.
“I’m so sorry,” she began, but David raised his hand to cut her off.
“Laudanum.”
“Of course.”
She went to the washstand and began to measure and stir.
“Here you go, sir.”
David shuddered as he swallowed it. The vile stuff would put him into darkness for several hours, but by now it was obvious he needed the dose.
“There!” Millie smiled down at him and took the tumbler away.
“I’ll need to send a letter right away,” he managed.
“Of course. I’ll get paper and take it down for you.”
He nodded, saving his breath. She left the room, and he let his head sink into the pillow. He wasn’t sure he could stay awake until she got back. At least he had someone looking out for him, and for that he was thankful. Before he could form a coherent prayer of thanks, she was back.
“I have a scrap here. If you’d like to tell me what you want in the letter, I’ll take it down. Later I’ll get some good paper and an envelope and write it over nice.”
He blinked up at her, trying to make sense of her rapid speech.
“Mr. Stone?” she asked doubtfully, a stub of a pencil poised over her bit of paper.
“Yes. To my solicitor, Jonathan Conrad. His address is in my valise. Tell him I will be delayed. And whatever the doctor said about recovery time.” David couldn’t recall anything Dr. Lee had told him, but a month was batting about in the recesses of his mind. He would lose a full month. At least. “Millie?” He looked up at her suddenly, a fearful thought seizing him.
“Yes?” She leaned close.
“I will get better, won’t I?”
“Of course!”
He exhaled. “My leg?”
“Once the swelling is down, Dr. Lee will put a plaster cast on it. Later today, I expect, or perhaps tomorrow. Now, I shall write this out for you and have it ready for you to look over whenever you feel up to it.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like anything to eat?” she asked.
“No, I…” He closed his eyes and let go of the worries and the pain, drifting into misty dreams.
“New York? What is your brother doing in New York?” Randolph Stone waved a
sheet of paper over his head as he entered the morning room.
Merrileigh flicked her fan open and fluttered it before her face. “Goodness, Husband! What is all this to-do?”
“Here’s a letter come from Peregrin, and he’s in New York, at one of the finest hotels. I thought he’d cut and run to Australia, or at least to Canada. How can he afford to gad about in the best circles in New York? He says he met up with Freddie Wallace’s cousin and went with him to a card game. What on earth is that lad thinking?”
Merrileigh stood and plucked the letter from his hand. “Come now, dear. What’s the harm in his enjoying a little company with a fellow Britisher? And Perry left here with enough money to keep him in style for a bit.”
“But he’s likely to be in exile for years. And a card game is what put him in this fix to begin with.” Randolph sighed and strode to the bell pull. “Your brother never did have any common sense. When he’s flush, he lives high, and when he’s broke, he cadges on us. Well, I don’t intend to be sending him an allowance to keep him at the Metropolitan, I’ll tell you that.”
Merrileigh skimmed the letter quickly. “Relax, Mr. Stone. He says right here he walked out of the game ten dollars to the good. So long as he’s winning, you won’t have to support him.”
“Oh wonderful. My brother-in-law is now supporting himself as a professional gambler. That is so much better.” Randolph rolled his eyes and yanked the bell pull.
A moment later Thomas appeared in the doorway.
“Yes sir?”
“Sherry,” Randolph said.
“Yes sir.” Thomas went to the sideboard and poured his master a glass of wine.
Merrileigh turned the sheet over and caught her breath. Apparently Randolph hadn’t read this far, to where Peregrin mentioned that he’d put out some feelers but hadn’t caught word of David yet. The foolish boy! He hadn’t bargained on Randolph opening the mail before she did. Usually she had first look at the post, but not today. At least he’d worded it so that she could make a plausible explanation if need be.
“Oh, Conrad’s man was here earlier,” Randolph said.
“Was he?” Merrileigh jerked her head toward him. She’d gone out for two hours after lunch to make a few courtesy calls and leave her card at a few of her acquaintances’ homes. Nothing ever happened when she was on the premises, but set foot outside, and the fireworks began.
“Yes. They’d had a letter from David.”
“Indeed?” Merrileigh tucked Peregrin’s letter into her sleeve. She would peruse it again later in private. “What did he say? Is he coming soon?”
“Apparently not. He’s stalled in the middle of the country.”
“St. Louis?”
“No, but somewhere out there.” Randolph frowned and sipped his sherry. “Said he’d had an accident and would be delayed several weeks.” Randolph grinned at her, obviously delighted with himself. “Independence, that’s it. The name of the town, I mean.”
Merrileigh shelved that bit of information for later contemplation as well. “Did he say when he expects to arrive?”
“Iverson thought it would be at least a month.”
“Oh.”
Randolph chuckled. “Maybe he’ll run into your brother. Wouldn’t that be a corker?”
“Yes,” Merrileigh said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t it just?”
CHAPTER 20
I’ll need to send another letter.” David’s voice held authority that Millie hadn’t heard in more than two weeks. She turned from where she’d been arranging his clean linen in the dresser and stepped over to the bedside, glad he was feeling better. His will to do something showed her that the pain no longer overpowered him. “Of course. I’ll get you some paper and ink.”
She went downstairs and stopped at the desk in the front hall, where Mr. Simmons was bent over a ledger.
“I’m in need of stationery, sir. I don’t suppose—”
“Oh yes, Mrs. Evans. I took your suggestion and laid in a supply.”
Millie smiled. “That was good of you, sir. I’m sure other guests will be pleased, too. I’d like two sheets, please, and an envelope.”
The first time she’d written a letter for David, she’d had to go out to find a mercantile for the supplies. She’d purchased a small bottle of ink and a pen at the time. She was grateful she wouldn’t have to do that again.
She got the stationery she needed from the landlord and thanked him, then went back up to David’s room. He was still awake, scowling at the ceiling.
“There, I think we’re ready,” she said cheerfully. “I only got one envelope.”
“That’s enough—unless you need to send a letter as well.”
“No, I’ve no need, but thank you.” She hesitated.
He raised his head suddenly, fixing her with an inquisitive stare. “Did you pay for it yourself?”
“This time, yes. But earlier, I…there were some coins in the pocket of the trousers you wore at the time of the accident. Dr. Lee cut the trousers off you, and…well, I salvaged the contents of your pockets for you.” Her cheeks flushed, and she couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Did you pay the doctor?”
“Yes, and the man who carted us here. I’m sorry, Mr. Stone, but I had to take the money for them from your wallet. I didn’t ask you then. You were indisposed.” Unconscious, actually, but she didn’t like to remind him of his weakness too vividly.
“Bring it here.” He stirred and gasped, sinking back onto the pillow, his face ashen.
Millie grabbed the wallet from the dresser and hurried to his side. “Are you all right?”
“No.”
“What can I do?”
He said nothing but stared upward with clenched teeth.
She wanted to give him another dose of the painkiller, but Dr. Lee had told her yesterday to lengthen the intervals between doses, lest David become addicted to the stuff. “It will be time for more laudanum in an hour.”
“Yes.” It was barely a whisper, and she thought that an hour must seem very long to a man in pain.
She put his wallet in his hand, and he held it up where he could see it. He inspected the contents.
“What do I owe you for the stationery—and anything else you’ve paid for yourself?”
“Nothing.” Need she remind him that every cent she had came from him to begin with?
He withdrew a dollar and handed it to her. “You must have used up most of what I gave you before.”
“Well…yes. Thank you.” She pocketed the dollar. “Would you like to dictate your letter now?”
“Yes. Do you mind? It pains me to sit up, and I don’t think I’m ready to undertake it myself.”
“I’d be happy to.”
He dictated slowly, so that she could write nicely as he talked. The message was destined for his niece. Millie’s color heightened as she wrote the name, but neither she nor David said anything about Millie’s past connection to Anne.
“My dear niece,” David said. “I regret to inform you that I have been delayed in my travels. The stagecoach on which I was bound for Independence met with an accident, and it seems my leg is broken. I’ve been sequestered two weeks in a hotel on the outskirts of town. The doctor assures me I shall have full use of the limb again within a month or so. Meanwhile, I submit to the kind ministrations of others. You probably will not recognize this hand, for the letter is penned by one who has been of assistance to me.
“Do not worry, dear Anne. Your uncle may be nearly twice your age, but I assure you that I will mend. Please tell Daniel I am confident leaving all in his hands so far as the line is concerned. I trust the arrangements we made earlier are working smoothly. I expect that I shall be gone from here by the time you read this, as the overland mail is so slow. I am now at the Frontier Hotel in Independence, but if you have urgent news, a missive might catch me at Astor House in New York before I sail. With great affection, your uncle.”
Millie wrote it as neatly as she could and blew on it to dr
y the ink before handing it over to him to sign.
“I expect she’ll be relieved to hear from you,” she said.
“Yes, though this news may unsettle her. I almost hate to tell her. There’s nothing she can do, and I don’t like to worry her. Still, if I don’t tell her and she learns of my mishap later, she’ll be upset that I didn’t say anything.”
“She can pray for your speedy recovery, sir.”
“Yes, there is that.” He gritted his teeth. “I shall have to sit up a bit if I’m to sign that.”
“Are you sure you want to?” Millie asked.
“Yes. I want her to see by my signature that I’m well enough to write it.”
She put an extra pillow behind his shoulders, and he let out a groan as he shifted.
“I’m sorry,” Millie said.
“No matter. Hand me the pen, please.”
His face had gone white, but he managed to write his name with a confident flourish. Then he thrust the pen into her hand and sank back with his eyes closed, his mouth in a tight line.
Millie set aside the letter and pen. “I think we can give you the laudanum now, Mr. Stone.”
“Good. I think I’m ready for it, thank you.”
Sweat trickled from his temple down his cheek as she held him up to drink the dose, and Millie fetched his towel to wipe it away.
“I’m sorry you feel so bad.”
“Ah well, the doctor assures me I’m healing. I daresay it’s not as bad now as it was at first, but we forget, don’t we?”
“Yes, mercifully, we do. Would you like to rest now?”
“I would. Oh, Anne’s address…”
“She’s Mrs. Adams, is she not? Of Corvallis?”
“Yes. Mrs. Daniel Adams…”
“That’s all I need then.”
She removed the extra pillow and arranged the bedclothes neatly. David was already asleep when she turned away.
She folded the letter and put it into the envelope. Mrs. Daniel Adams, Corvallis, Oregon, she wrote across the front. She decided to take it directly to the post office, rather than relying on Mr. Simmons to get it there swiftly.
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 80
