She held out her arms to him, and together—while embraced—they sobbed. It was a clear fact both had taken the oath to do no harm. So, for Brodie to shoot someone and end his life, he had to have been brought to the edge of fear and moved by the sheer love he held for her. But he vowed he’d never let any harm come to her, and today he kept that promise. Still and all, it was no wonder he sobbed as they held each other close.
“I was so scared I’d lost you.” He buried his face against her neck. “And I knew I couldn’t go on if that happened, because you are so much a part of me—of my life. We are bound in every way.”
She stroked his deep russet curls, swallowing her tears and inhaling his comforting and familiar scent. “I feared I’d never see you again, Brodie. As my lungs were being robbed of air, my thoughts raced to everything I was standing to lose…to all the days, months, years I was going to miss being with you. Laughing with you, working by your side, loving you at night, making a home and having children. And those thoughts hurt worse than anything physical Attwater was doing to me. It was though my heart was bleeding.”
He pulled back, gently caressing her bruised jaw and frowning down at her blood-stained blouse. “I felt the exact same way, Cassia. I could feel my heart bleeding as it only beats for you. But now we’re going to have all those things together that you mentioned, honey. And the mad man is dead, so he will never be able to hurt another human being again.” His face hardened. “I hope his soul rots in hell.”
She flinched in agony when she tried to move her left leg, her sore ankle shooting pain to her shin and knee.
Immediately his handsome features softened with concern. “Enough talk now. It’s time for me to tend to your wounds, my love.”
“Outside of my jaw, ankle, and the ring of fire around my neck, I have no open wounds,” she quickly conveyed. Glancing down at the front of her blouse, she added, “The blood is not mine.”
His frown deepened. “You said as much before you blacked out and mentioned a name…Ramona.” He cleared his throat. “Michael and his men are waiting to question you, when you think you’re able to talk to them. Gabriel and Ethan are waiting to see you too.”
She arched a brow. “Question me? Why would Michael need to question me about Ramona?”
Gently he took her hand. “Because of who she was…another of Attwater’s victims murdered in this area. Obviously, for you to know her name, the two of you must have been held together. Mike needs to know where Attwater left her body.”
“No. No, you don’t understand,” she interrupted, sitting up quickly. The room spun.
“Stay put, honey, until you regain more of your strength.” He helped her to lie back upon the pillow.
Her voice trembled. “Ramona is a gypsy woman whom I helped through a breech birth. Last night, just as I pulled up to my house, a gypsy man and his young daughter came seeking my help. The call was an emergency, and there was no time to grab my bag. I’ve been at their camp all night trying to save both mother and baby.”
“And did you save them?” He recaptured her hand and warmed it within his.
“Yes, both are fine.” She sighed. “But I was so scared. I had no medical supplies or instruments with me, and I had to turn the baby. I’ve never done such a procedure before, and only saw it performed once. I put my hands inside of this woman’s womb and navigated the baby to a better birthing position. Then the child’s head was stuck, and I had to fiddle around to free it. But, thank God, all was fine. And then, this morning, the man started to drive me home again when we heard the hounds,” she explained. “I feared he’d be detained because he is a gypsy. You know how that goes?”
He nodded. “Yes, there are a lot of small minds around. At times my own folks have been looked down upon, being immigrants from Ireland.”
“Exactly as my brother Gabriel who is often referred to as the half breed as well as the other Apaches in town, and the dark skinned folks who’ve migrated here from the southern states. Though it’s been fifty-five years since slavery has been abolished, they still aren’t considered equal.” She paused a moment. “Please, don’t get me wrong, Brodie. I don’t fault or hold anything against Michael, for I think coming from Ireland himself he knows enough to be fair, but he still must answer to the protocol of the law, as he’s sworn to do. And I couldn’t take a chance this poor man—who only sought help for his wife—wouldn’t be unnecessarily detained. So I told him to drop me off at the clinic. I thought, once inside, I’d be able to phone you, and while I waited for you to arrive, I could tend my sore ankle. But before I could get to the door, I was attacked by Attwater.”
He frowned. “How did you hurt your ankle?”
“I was startled by the gypsy’s wagon, as he came upon me in such urgency, and fell off the bicycle, landing on my ankle,” she said. Then she frowned, suddenly realizing he indicated a second woman. “Why would Michael think Ramona was another of Attwater’s victims?”
Brodie sighed heavily. “He murdered another woman before he grabbed you. The hounds found her body by the creek. I examined and identified her.”
She swallowed hard. “Was she someone we know?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes moist.
Fear rioted within her chest. “Who was she, Brodie? Tell me.”
He sighed again and kissed the top of her hand. “It was Alma Lee. And I am so sorry, honey. I know how much she meant to you and how hard you tried to help her.”
The grief and horror of it all…Alma Lee dead, was just too much to bear. That poor young woman lost everything dear to her…her husband, the hope of a baby, and now her life. The thought of how horrible the end had to be for Alma Lee…alone, scared, with no one coming to her rescue…set a fire of pure sorrow burning within her she had no power to contain.
She screamed a sob at the top of her lungs, which echoed throughout the clinic, and covered her face with her hands. The curtain shielding her from the others in the room ripped open, and in an instant Gabriel had her in his arms, rocking and cradling her like she was still a small child. Often he soothed her, when she was little, in just such a manner. He, being so much older, was like a second father. And she felt no shame to curl into his embrace, like she’d done all those many years ago, allowing him to comfort her the way only family knew how to do.
“You are with those who love and care for you, especially your man, Brodie. He saved your life.” Gabriel stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “Everything will now be all right, baby girl.”
The endearing name—baby girl—was what her father always called her. She hated hearing the loving words when she got older, but now she welcomed the sentiment. And somehow Gabriel knew what she needed…understood how much those words would comfort her and help relay the safety of a family member’s strength. And so she felt free to release all of her sorrow. With her face buried beneath her older brother’s neck—she wailed.
Ethan neared them and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against her shoulder. “I am here as well, Cassia.”
The three of them stayed entwined while she sobbed. No one spoke or interrupted, and she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. Then exhausted and spent, she let them take her home.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cassia remained in her brother’s arms until a wagon came for them and allowed him to hold her during the ride and carry her into the house. As they came through the door, her mother and Sadie gasped.
Sean broke instantly into professional mode. The elderly doctor, who took care of her so many times, began to bark out orders. “Get her to a bed, Gabriel, for me to check her wounds.”
“The blood’s not hers, Papa,” Brodie instantly added.
“Nevertheless, get her onto a bed.” Sean reached for his medical bag.
Gabriel carried her into her room. Sean, Sadie, and her mother followed closely behind. Gently her brother set her on the bed, placing another kiss upon her forehead. “You’re in good hands now,” he whispered, before leaving
the room.
After the door was securely shut, her mother and Sadie set to work removing the blood-stained blouse and skirt. Then off came her slip, leaving her clad only in a brassiere and underpants. She was too exhausted to protest, too grieved to feel any shame while lying nearly naked before their eyes. Sean took her temperature and listened to her heart. Then he examined her head, shoulders, and back, which had scrapes and bruises from being slammed against the tree. He felt around her jaw, the front of her throat, and moved to her abdomen, checking for broken ribs.
As the doctor moved his hands to examine her pelvic region, he paused. “Cassia, were…were you…compromised?”
“No,” she responded quickly. “Brodie arrived in time.”
“Then there’s no need to check ye further.” He covered her with a sheet. From his medical bag, he pulled salve for her neck, jaw, and the scratches along her back. “I’ll leave ye now, Lass, so the women can bathe ye and apply the salve. Then I’ll return to wrap yer ankle.” He gave her hand an affectionate pat.
Sadie and her mother left the room long enough to fetch wash clothes and towels, soap, and a basin of hot water. Together they stripped her of the rest of her clothes and bathed her. Like a child she was washed, arms raised, legs spread, and turned from side to side. Then they dried her, covered her bruises with salve, and dressed her in a nightgown and robe. All the while she stayed silent, accepting the personal care. It was easy to fall into such sadness you didn’t mind others tending to private matters—those parts of your body otherwise held modestly. This must be how Alma Lee felt during her great despair. It was just easier not to have to cope with anything other than breathing, and let others do all the worrying for you. But then, she still had Brodie—the man who was the love of her life. If nothing else, coming to grips with tragedy and carrying on was worth it just to be with him. The thought of sharing her life with him brought her a measure of strength. But when her mother coaxed her to sit at the dressing table to have her hair brushed, she spotted the discarded clothes in a pile on the floor. In a rush the day’s events gripped her again, the impact so fierce, she had to fight back becoming physically ill.
Swallowing the bile threatening to choke her, she cried out, “Burn those clothes, Mama. Burn them…burn them all, because I never will want to wear them again.”
“As you wish, my darling.” Her mother moved to retrieve the garments.
Sadie quickly stepped in. “Let me be doin’ that for ye, me friend. Ye stay with yer daughter and help her to set things right.”
Amanda reached out to affectionately pat Sadie’s arm. “I thank you for being here for me…for all you do.”
While Sadie went through the skirt’s pockets, removing the change purse she found in one and setting it aside, she added, “I’ll see what I can feed the men, as they must be hungry and thirsty. Then I’ll bring somethin’ in for Cassia.”
“Again, thank you, Sadie.” Amanda turned to help Cassia to the dressing table. “Now, sit, let me brush your hair. And when we’re done here, Sean will wrap your ankle, and you can have a bite to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled. “Besides, I’ve got to go to the Boyds’ house.”
Amanda arched a brow. “You’re not in condition to go anywhere.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand, Mama. Alma Lee is dead—murdered.”
“I know. Michael called from the clinic when they found you and gave us the devastating news about Alma Lee.” Amanda sighed. “I wouldn’t doubt it if the whole town knows by now, as gossip travels fast in Eagle’s Landing.”
“I wanted so much for Alma Lee to recover and be happy again,” she said.
“I know you did, dear. And we are all so sorry—for her passing and her family’s loss,” Amanda said. “But we’re also very grateful you’re all right.”
“I’ve got to pay my respects, comfort her family during…during…”
“What sort of comfort will you be,” her mother interrupted, “as bruised and exhausted as you are at this very moment?” Amanda pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the tears streaming down Cassia’s cheeks. “Besides, it’s your father’s place to visit the family, as he will know the right words to say. And no doubt Sean will accompany him, so he can medically soothe whatever distress ails Trudy and her children. In a few days, when you’re able to walk properly on your foot, you and I will go over to see them.”
“Yes, you’re right, Mama,” she agreed. The last thing any of the Boyds needed was to see her battered, swollen jaw, and the choker of bruises around her neck. Brodie hadn’t disclosed Alma Lee’s condition, and she was thankful for his discretion as she wouldn’t have been able to handle how she succumbed to her death. But in view of what Attwater did to two other women and what he tried to do to her, the actual cause of Alama Lee’s demise had to be horrendous. She closed her eyes, sorrow coursing through every part of her body. “I pray the Lord was with Alma Lee at the end, Mama.”
“I know He was.” Her mother hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “Of that I am sure.”
She sat on the bed while Sean wrapped her ankle. Her father, coming into the room, plopped down beside her. Gently he reached for her hand. Without saying a word, he comforted her. His peaceful presence wove a cocoon of security and love around her. She knew, when he closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment, he was praying.
Then he stood, his eyes searching her face. “God’s grace is greater than our woes, baby girl. Don’t let the light He’s given you to share, go dim with your sorrow.” After kissing her forehead, he whispered, “I will give those grieving Alma Lee’s loss your love.” Sean left as well, to accompany her father to the Boyds’ home, just as her mother had said.
Ethan looked in on her before taking himself back to his house next door. Gabriel followed soon after. Both men looked exhausted, after being up all night searching for her. Come to think of it, everyone had yet to sleep in their beds. Truth be told, lying on the ground beside the campfire hadn’t really afforded her much sleep either.
Her brother had the shawl, her sandals, and keys in his hands. “I found these things on the ground when Brodie carried you into the clinic.” He placed the shawl over a nearby chair, the sandals beside her bed, and laid the keys on the nightstand.
She glanced at the leather cord holding the keys and sighed. “Those keys helped in saving my life.”
Gabriel frowned. “How so?”
“I remembered what you said…how anything, if used right and held correctly, can be applied as a weapon. I set the keys between my fingers, and when Attwater reached for me, I stabbed him in the arm. I believe that action bought me some time until help arrived.”
Brodie was the last one to check on her. “I wanted to wait until your family had time with you,” he explained while caressing her face.
“But you are family,” she countered.
He hesitated a moment before he made a reply, and the pause concerned her. “Not yet, I’m not.”
She frowned. “Brodie, what…”
“No more talk, honey.” He pulled her close for a hug. “You get some rest, and I’ll be back later, after I’ve done the same.” He lowered his lips to hers for a kiss and whispered against her mouth, “I love you with all that I am.” Then he was gone, departing with his mother to his home.
That left just her and her mother. After a quick trip to use the bathroom, Cassia tried to rest. But within an hour, delicious aromas sprung from the kitchen. Her mother was making bacon and eggs. Since she barely touched the tea and toast Sadie made for her earlier, her stomach groaned with hunger. She climbed out of bed, slipped on her robe, and reached for the shawl before joining her mother in the kitchen. Able now to put more weight on her foot, due to Sean’s expert bandaging, she examined the shawl in her hands. It had sustained a bit of abuse…pulled slightly apart and soiled…during her scuffle with Attwater. But her mother was skilled in repairing yarn made garments, as well as knowing h
ow to hand wash to clean and block while drying. Together she and Amanda sat and ate the small meal, while Cassia explained about the gypsies and Ramona’s breech birth.
“Then that would explain why your bicycle almost made it home, but you didn’t,” Amanda mused aloud.
“And I met someone else while at the gypsies’ camp…someone you know. Her name is Thea Johnson,” she began. She handed the shawl over to her mother. “She made this,” she added, going into more detail. Amanda held the shawl against her heart and hung on her every word Cassia spoke, listening spellbound.
“I always wondered what happened to Thea—one day there, the next gone,” Amanda admitted. She glanced at the shawl, fingering the few frayed pieces of yarn. “I’ll fix and wash this for you.”
“No, I want you to have it. I know Thea would want that too,” she said.
Her mother sighed. “She was my best and dearest friend, and I missed her terribly after she left town.”
“She said she missed you too, and grandmamma,” Cassia relayed.
Amanda shook her head amazed. “Imagine, after all these years I finally get an answer as to what happened to her. And to think my daughter saved the life of my best friend’s granddaughter and her baby.” She smiled. “Thea bridged the gap with the gypsies, as I did with the Apaches. What a pair we are,” she marveled.
Cassia cocked her head sideways. “Funny thing is, Thea said the exact same thing when I told her about Proud Eagle and your time as a warrior’s wife.”
Amanda’s smile broadened. “Well then, I’d say it just goes to prove, great minds think alike.”
At that point the mantel clock chimed the noon hour. She yawned, hardly able to keep her eyes open.
Amanda stood, making her way over to where Cassia sat. “Come, time for sleep.”
She took the hand her mother held out to her. “I can barely hold my eyes open,” she confessed while her mother walked with her toward her room.
“No doubt the effect of the sleeping powder Sean gave me. I put a bit of it in your tea,” Amanda admitted.
The Last Bloom Page 26
