Darlin' Druid

by Lyn Horner

  Corporal Thompson cleared his throat. “Uh, if you don’t need us for anything else, ma’am, I reckon we’ll head on back to the train.”

  “Go ahead. And thank ye kindly for helping,” Jessie said, watching Tye and Mr. Cooper tug off David’s boots.

  “Glad to, ma’am. I sure hope the cap’n pulls through.”

  “So do I,” she said, giving the soldier a weak smile. He truly wasn’t such a bad sort, she realized as he touched his cap and filed out with his companions.

  “Jessie, would you fetch me some water, please?” Milly Cooper requested, indicating a washstand located across the room. As she spoke, she helped her husband ease David out of his coat.

  “Aye, right away.” Moving swiftly, Jessie poured water from a crockery pitcher into the matching wash basin and carried it over to the bedside table, where Mrs. Cooper had already laid out bandages and washrags. By then David’s bloody shirt had been stripped away, and Milly sat inspecting his wound. Her husband excused himself, but Tye lingered in the doorway.

  “Sis, we can’t tarry long. We’re holding up the train,” he said.

  Milly shot him an impatient glance as she dampened a rag in the basin and began to clean David’s wound.

  Facing her brother, Jessie clutched the bed’s scrolled footboard to bolster her courage. “Tye, I can’t leave him like this, not after what he did for me tonight. I’ll not be going with ye.”

  “What! Have ye gone daft?” he cried, staring at her in disbelief. “D’ye expect me to go off and leave ye here?” He slashed the air. “No, never!”

  The thought of staying behind brought a hollow feeling to Jessie’s stomach, yet she held out her hands to him in appeal. “But I might be dead, or worse, if not for Captain Taylor. He’s lying here wounded because of me. I can’t leave, not knowing whether he’ll live or die. I must stay and do what I can for him. After he recovers, and pray God he will,” she added with a catch in her throat, “I’ll follow ye to Utah.”

  “Jess, I realize ye feel indebted to the man. Lord knows, so do I.” Tye grimaced and rubbed his neck. “But the idea of ye traveling by yourself, especially after what happened tonight . . . . I won’t hear of it.”

  Jessie gritted her teeth. If only Tye would reach out to her with his mind, then he would understand her desperate need to stay, not only for David Taylor’s sake, but for her own. But Tye seldom lowered the barrier he had erected to protect himself, even for her. Sighing impatiently, she walked over to him and looked into his eyes.

  “D’ye recall what ye said on the train? About Captain Taylor maybe being the . . . the man for me?” She didn’t dare speak plainly of her prophetic vision in front of their one woman audience.

  Tye hesitated before nodding slowly. “Aye, I recall.”

  “Well, I’m thinking ye maybe had the right of it.”

  She saw comprehension dawn in his eyes and waited anxiously for his reply. However, Milly Cooper spoke first.

  “Young man, you might consider postponing your own journey for a few days,” she suggested, drawing Jessie’s surprised glance and a protesting sound from Tye.

  “I could use your sister’s help with the captain,” she went on. “You’re both welcome to stay here with Charles and me. Why don’t you go discuss the matter with your conductor and our station agent, Will Sampson.” She gave him a pointed stare. “And let us get on with our task, unless you want this man to bleed to death.”

  Shock swept across Tye’s features at her comment. Jessie watched him war with himself. He urgently wanted to get to Utah while there was still silver to be found, but his conscience, together with her hint about David possibly being the man she sought, were clearly bidding him stay. To her relief, his better self won out. Nodding in resignation, he smiled crookedly at her and went to do as Mrs. Cooper suggested.

  Jessie sat down beside David, across from the older woman. “I’m grateful to ye, ma’am, for offering to take us in,” she said. “Although I wish we needn’t trouble ye so.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll enjoy your company. And, please, call me Milly.” Dampening a washrag, Milly handed it to Jessie. “Here. Why don’t you clean him up some while I work on this stubborn bleeding.”

  “Aye.” Jessie began to wipe sticky blood from David’s chest. Lifting the chain he wore around his neck, she studied the gold ring dangling from it for a moment.

  “Looks like a woman’s wedding band,” Milly commented. “I wonder who it belongs to.”

  Jessie wondered that too. It disturbed her to think David Taylor might have a wife waiting for him somewhere, but if he did, wouldn’t the woman be wearing her ring? She noticed that the plain gold band bore a tracery of fine scratches, indicating years of wear. Could the poor man be a widower?

  Laying her speculations aside along with the ring and chain, Jessie attempted to concentrate on her job, but she grew increasingly aware of the muscled flesh beneath her hands. She was fascinated by the captain’s broad, tanned chest and the patch of curly dark hair that reached from one flat male nipple to the other, tapering to a thin line that vanished beneath his trousers. The springy curls made her fingertips tingle as she cleansed him of blood. She daringly imagined being held against that hard, furred expanse, with his arms enfolding her and his mouth . . . .

  Milly Cooper clucked her tongue and Jessie jumped, blushing at her brazen thoughts.

  “He can’t afford to lose any more blood,” Milly said, frowning at the red-stained pad she held pressed to David’s shoulder. “If I stitch him up, I fear the wound will mortify. Cauterizing would stop the bleeding and prevent infection, but it could damage the muscles. His arm might be useless.”

  Jessie swallowed hard, horrified by that possibility, but if cauterizing would save David’s life . . . .

  “I wonder if I should try a poultice first,” Milly murmured to herself more than Jessie. “It might not work, but if it does, he ought to have full use of his arm after he heals.” She tapped her lips for a moment then nodded decisively. Laying a fresh pad over the ugly gash in David’s shoulder, she said, “Jessie, will you hold this compress in place while I prepare the poultice?”

  “Of course.” Jessie leaned over their unconscious patient and did as requested while Milly picked up the washbowl and hurried off to make her preparations. Attending to her task with one hand, Jessie used her other hand to brush a dark brown lock from David’s forehead. It surprised her to see how much younger he looked with his features relaxed, rather than scowling harshly or grinning in that mocking way of his.

  Sweet Mary, if he truly was the man from her dreams, he wasn’t anything like what she had expected. He was infuriatingly high-handed and he seemed to enjoy vexing her. Oh aye, he had saved her life, but even that differed from the way her hero always saved her in her fiery nightmares. Was he or was he not the man she searched for?

  And what of Wolf Gerard? Could he be the madman from her water vision? He was a murderous villain, to be sure, but was he insane? She thought not. Besides, his eyes were mud-colored, not flame-orange. Still, she couldn’t be sure.

  Questions and doubts flitted back and forth in her head like birds trapped in a cage. Finding no certain answers, she was glad when Milly Cooper returned, carrying the washbowl, now with steam rising from it, between two thick hot pads. Her husband followed at her heels, surprising Jessie. She’d assumed he would accompany Tye on his errand.

  Mr. Cooper must have caught her look of surprise. “Good thing your brother insisted he didn’t need me to go with him. Probably thought I could use a rest.” He chuckled. “He was right, too. Anyhow, seems like Milly might need some help here.”

  “Indeed I will, dear.” Milly deposited the hot bowl on the bedside table. “Hopefully, this will do the trick.”

  “What’s in it?” Jessie asked, catching an odd blend of scents from the bowl’s contents.

  “Oh, there’s ground up oak bark to stop the bleeding, apple cider vinegar to keep the wound from mortifying, and beeswax for thickeni
ng. It was my granny’s cure for everything from cuts and scrapes to bullet wounds.” Folding a clean rag into several layers, she laughed. “She will probably haunt me for giving you her secret recipe.

  “Now then, I’ll need the two of you to hold him still,” she directed in a stern tone. “This poultice is piping hot and I can’t have him thrashing around when I apply it.”

  Turning worried eyes to David, Jessie swallowed hard, hating the thought of inflicting more pain on him.

  Milly noticed her reaction. “The bleeding has to be stopped, dear,” she said gently. “But if you would rather not be in here while I do this, I’ll understand. Charles will help me.”

  “No! I’m fine,” Jessie insisted, determined to stay.

  “Very well,” Milly replied after a brief hesitation. Removing the bloody dressing from David’s shoulder, she quickly spooned a generous amount of hot, thick poultice onto the layered pad in her hand. “Hold him steady now, both of you. I’m afraid he’s going to feel this.”

  “No doubt,” Mr. Cooper said grimly. He gave Jessie a heartening smile, and they braced to restrain the unconscious man.

  Turning the poultice face down, Milly laid it over David’s wound. At its searing touch, he cried out in agony and heaved upward, nearly bucking Jessie and Mr. Cooper off.

  “Hold him still!” Milly ordered sharply.

  Her husband leaned more heavily on David’s chest and left arm while Jessie threw herself half on top of him. Even so, they had all they could do to hold him down as Milly adjusted the poultice, making sure it covered every inch of his raw flesh. Finally, it was done. His struggles gradually subsided into labored breathing, broken by an occasional groan.

  Jessie eased herself away from him on shaky limbs. Blinking back tears, she fought down the bile that had risen in her throat. She mustn’t be sick. Milly still needed her assistance.

  Charles Cooper retreated from the room while Jessie helped Milly bind the poultice in place, shifting David’s weight back and forth as they worked. By the time they finished they were both breathing hard. Their patient once more lay deathly still, causing Jessie to ring her hands in worry as she stood staring at him. Would all their efforts be for naught?

  “Don’t fret, dear,” Milly said, slipping an arm around her. “I believe Granny’s poultice is working. The bleeding seems to have stopped, and he’s a strong young man. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She gave Jessie a reassuring squeeze. “Now, why don’t we go see what your brother has worked out? I do hope you’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

  “Oh! I’d forgotten.” With the reminder, Jessie grew anxious to know if Tye had made the necessary arrangements. She sincerely hoped so because she would not be talked into leaving. Squaring her shoulders, she followed Milly, prepared to do battle with her brother.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tye and Mr. Cooper were seated in the parlor, talking while they waited. The two men broke off their conversation and rose when Jessie and Milly walked in.

  “Well, my dear, will the captain survive?” Mr. Cooper asked his wife.

  “Aye, how is he, ma’am?” Tye echoed, with his hat clutched to his chest like a shield against bad news.

  Milly folded her hands and smiled benignly. “He’s fine for now. If all goes well, he should be back on his feet in a few days.”

  “Saints be praised,” Tye said, lowering his hat.

  Mr. Cooper slapped him on the back. “Told you not to worry, son.” He chuckled and beamed at his wife. “Yes sir, my Milly’s got the touch when it comes to healing. And like I said, she did a lot of nursing during the war.”

  “Charles, dear, let’s not burden these two young people with my background just now,” his wife lightly chided. She indicated Jessie, whose shoulders drooped tiredly. “They’re both worn out, and I believe Jessie needs to speak to her brother.”

  Jessie nodded, aiming a tense look at Tye. “Did the train leave or are they still waiting for us? ’Tis a waste of time if they are, for I’ll not go anywhere until Captain Taylor has recovered.” She crossed her arms and stubbornly clenched her jaw.

  Tye grinned and twirled his derby. “Sure now, you’re ready for a fight, are ye? Well, calm yourself, colleen. The train is long gone. Ye have your wish. We’ll be staying here until the man’s fit to travel.”

  Relief poured through Jessie; she wouldn’t need to do battle with him after all. “Saints be praised! Thank ye, brother.”

  He nodded, blue eyes twinkling, and pointed to a spot off to her right and behind her. “And if you’d care to have a look, you’ll notice I even remembered to collect our things. Along with the good captain’s, of course.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Jessie saw their belongings and an unfamiliar brown valise piled together in the corner near the room’s arched entrance. Atop the valise lay David Taylor’s hat and gun belt, with his gun tucked in its holster.

  “Mister Higgins was quite agreeable to my request,” Tye added. “I believe he’s feeling guilty for not booting that rogue, Gerard, off the train when he made trouble earlier.”

  “As well he should. But I’m not the one to criticize him for poor judgment.” Jessie shook her head in regret.

  “Aye, I’ll have to agree with ye there.”

  Ducking her head before her brother’s reproving gaze, she glanced at the Coopers. “I hope we won’t be putting the two of ye out too greatly. We’ll pay for our keep, naturally.”

  “Don’t be silly!” Milly exclaimed, cinching the belt of her robe tighter. “As I said, we’ll be happy to have your company. And we’ll hear no more talk of payment, will we, Charles?”

  “Of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it,” her husband agreed.

  “Good. Now, if you and Mister Devlin will be kind enough to remove the captain’s trousers, I’ll finish getting him settled.”

  While the men went about their mission, Jessie was ushered into the Coopers’ own bedroom, where she washed and changed into her nightdress and robe. At Milly’s insistence she handed over her bloodstained gown so that it could be put to soak along with David’s uniform. However, she refused the offer of a pallet next to Tye’s in the parlor.

  “I’ll sit with Captain Taylor,” she said, standing in the hall outside the sickroom with Milly.

  “Why don’t you leave that to me, dear. I’ll stay up and keep an eye on him. You go get some rest.”

  “No, please, you’ve done so much already, ma’am.” Jessie glanced through the open doorway at David, who now lay beneath a light quilt. “Besides, I . . . I couldn’t sleep a wink right now.”

  The older woman studied her a moment. “Very well, Jessie, as you wish.” She smiled. “And call me Milly, remember?”

  Jessie returned her smile. “Aye . . . Milly.”

  A short while later, she sat at David’s bedside, comfortably settled in a cushioned rocker. She had released her hair from its confining bun to ease the tension on her scalp, and the long tresses fell in heavy waves around her shoulders. Milly had opened the nearby window to allow in the cool night breeze. It felt wonderful after the day’s oppressive heat.

  She rocked slowly back and forth, listening to the floorboards creak. How strange it was to find herself alone in a bedroom with a man she barely knew, a man she had accused of taking indecent liberties with her just that afternoon. Not that there was anything improper in her being here with him, considering his unconscious state, and even if there was, she owed him far too much to worry about propriety. Besides, if he truly was the man from her dreams, she might share more than a room with him before long.

  “For shame! Don’t be thinking such things,” she whispered. “Ye can’t be certain he’s the one. And after what’s happened, he’ll probably want nothing to do with ye.”

  Staring at the thick bandage binding David’s chest and shoulder, Jessie groaned in dismay. Why had she been so stupid as to walk off alone in the dark the way she had? Without even telling her brother and without giving a single thought to that
villain Gerard.

  Wishing she could undo her witless actions and take back all the harsh words she’d flung at David on the train and back in Omaha, Jessie could no longer contain her tears of remorse. She pressed a hand to her mouth to smother the choked sounds she made, shaking with the force of her sobs. When the deluge finally ended, she was exhausted. Swiping the wetness from her cheeks, she allowed her heavy eyelids to close. She only meant to rest her eyes for a few moments, but despite her resolve to stay awake, sleep overtook her.

  With it came the nightmare.

  Heat, smoke, fire everywhere! She was surrounded by it. It leapt up walls, across rooftops, along wooden boardwalks and paving blocks in the street. Wind-driven burning debris fell like hot snow. She mustn’t let the wagon catch fire!

  She screamed for Tye and he climbed down into the wagon bed to help her beat out the cinders. Perched on the seat, Da fought to control their terrified mare.

  Now they were nearing a side street. Jessie’s heart raced. She knew what came next. Suddenly, windows exploded from a building on the corner, and a shriek of stark terror rose above the fire’s roar. She looked toward the sound and gave a horrified cry as flames burst from the blown out windows, catching an unlucky woman who had been running for her life. In seconds she was a human torch. Shrieking in agony, she ran, trying to escape the flames. Terrified onlookers scattered like rabbits before her.

  “Do something! Help her, someone!” Jessie cried.

  All at once, the crowd disappeared and the dream changed.

  Now she was inside a building filled with smoke and her skirts were on fire. She screamed in terror; then her phantom hero was suddenly kneeling beside her, beating out the flames. He looked up, gray-green eyes gently caressing her, with sadness in their depths, she thought. And for the first time she saw his face clearly. It was David Taylor’s face.