A Broken Wing (Kansas Crossroads)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Are you all right, Trinity? You seem unwell.”

  She looked down at her hands, then clasped them in her lap. “A combination of several things, I suppose. The shock of the robbery and the surgery, plus hunger—I’ll be all right after we’ve eaten.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  The waitress arrived back at their table as though she’d been waiting for her cue. “Pot roast and potatoes, warm bread, honey butter, and peach pie,” she said as she took each thing from the tray and set it in front of them. “May I refill your water glasses?”

  “Yes, please,” Raymond replied, and the girl came back with a pitcher.

  The scent of food wafting up from Trinity’s plate nearly did her in. She picked up her fork and tasted the meat, which all but melted in her mouth, and then she moved on to the potatoes. “Is this uncommonly good, or does it just taste that way because I’m so hungry?”

  “I’m probably not the best judge, being hungry myself, but yes, I’d say this is excellent.”

  They hardly spoke to each other at all until every scrap of food had been eaten. Then Trinity sat back, looked at the empty dishes, and started to laugh. “Well, that’s embarrassing,” she said.

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “A young lady isn’t supposed to eat more than her escort.”

  “Did you? I thought we ate exactly the same amount.”

  She shook her head. “No, my slice of pie was slightly larger.”

  “It was larger?” Raymond looked at her, an expression of mock drama on his face. “My dear young lady, do you mean to say that when you chose your piece of pie, you purposely selected the bigger one?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I did.”

  “My goodness. How very unladylike of you. I’m not sure I can be seen in public with the likes of you. I’m quite scandalized.” He lifted a finger, and the waitress scurried back over.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “May we please have two more slices of pie?”

  “Of course. Peach again, or would you like cherry?”

  He glanced at Trinity, and at her nod, said, “Cherry, please.”

  The girl bustled off, and he turned to Trinity. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, you know. When the body is under a great deal of strain, it needs more nutrition to keep going. You’ll probably be extra hungry for the next few days. You can either be embarrassed by it, or eat hearty and enjoy it.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She smiled when the waitress returned. Raymond compared the servings on each, then handed her the larger one.

  Chapter Four

  After they finished eating, Raymond and Trinity went back to the lobby of the hotel, where they found the kind young woman who had greeted them when they first arrived. She introduced herself as Mrs. Brody, then motioned toward the parlor off the main room.

  “That’s Dr. Wayment. He just arrived to look in on Mr. Jensen and see if there was anything he could do to help.”

  “I’ll be glad of a second opinion.” Raymond crossed the floor and shook the newcomer’s hand. “Thank you for coming, Doctor.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’m sure you did an excellent job on the train, but when I heard of your rough circumstances, I thought I’d offer a second set of eyes.”

  “It’s much appreciated.”

  As they climbed the stairs to the second floor, Raymond told Dr. Wayment everything that had been done for the care of the patient. Trinity felt a little excluded as they lapsed into their native doctor language, but when they reached the top of the stairs, Dr. Wayment turned to her and said, “And will you now develop a love for medicine and decide to attend nursing school, Miss Scott?”

  “Oh, gracious no,” she replied. “I was glad to be of help, but this isn’t at all something I want to do on a regular basis.”

  “That’s a shame. You sound quite competent.” Dr. Wayment gave her a nod, and then they entered the Jensens’ room.

  Trinity sat and visited with Mrs. Jensen while the doctors examined Mr. Jensen, but her attention kept straying, and she listened in to what the men were saying.

  “It was impossible to measure how much blood he lost, but it didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary,” Raymond said. “We accomplished the surgery with six handkerchiefs for sponges, if that helps give an indication of blood loss.”

  “So there were no nicked arteries, then,” Dr. Wayment said.

  “No. The bullet missed all the major arteries and the heart.”

  Dr. Wayment looked over to where Mrs. Jensen sat. “Your husband is a very lucky man.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it.” Her eyes welled up with tears, and she wiped them with the crumpled handkerchief she held.

  “He’s additionally lucky that Dr. Foster was around at the time.” Dr. Wayment covered Mr. Jensen’s chest with a light sheet and stepped back. “How are you feeling, Mr. Jensen?”

  “A little weak, but I’m all right,” Mr. Jensen replied.

  “Any need for pain medication?”

  “Maybe just a little.”

  Dr. Wayment reached into his bag, removed a bottle of laudanum and administered a dose, then returned it to its rightful place. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow, if that’s all right. I don’t believe you should continue your journey for about a week. That will give everything time to heal.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Mrs. Jensen said, coming to her feet and clasping his hand. “What do we owe you?”

  “Mrs. Brody promised me a hot meal. That’s good enough for me.” Dr. Wayment nodded to her, then turned to Raymond. “You did fine work, Doctor. I don’t believe I could have done better in a proper operating room.”

  “Perhaps I should do all my surgeries on a moving train from now on,” Raymond joked.

  “With that kind of success, I’d encourage you to do so.”

  Trinity and Raymond walked Dr. Wayment back downstairs, where they said good-bye and then arranged for rooms of their own. One of the waitresses showed them back upstairs. They reached Raymond’s room first, and Trinity was about to pass him to continue down the hall when he stopped her.

  “I wonder if you’d care to take a walk with me. I’d like to rest for about an hour, but after that?”

  “I’d enjoy that. I’ll meet you in the lobby?”

  He nodded, then disappeared behind his door.

  Trinity was exhausted, but she knew she’d never be able to sleep if she attempted it now. Her mind had never been in such a jumble. She took off her traveling suit and shook it out, wishing she could rid herself of the memories as easily as she could rid herself of the dust. She could still feel Bob’s hot breath on her neck, and she crossed the room and snatched up the washcloth sitting next to the basin.

  She scrubbed her neck until it hurt, then calmed down. He hadn’t actually touched her—no harm had been done. Then she laughed at herself. No harm? He had tainted her mind and frightened her to the core with his crude insinuations. Of course she knew some men said such things—she wasn’t entirely naïve—but she’d never had those kinds of words directed at her, spoken in her ear, by a man who had every intention of making good on his threat. Harm had most certainly been done, and she didn’t have the faintest idea how to combat it.

  Distraction. Yes, that was it. She would distract herself. She’d hardly thought about . . . that man . . . at all during dinner because she’d been so focused on Raymond and their delicious meal. Now she’d focus on getting ready for their walk. She pulled a light yellow dress from her bag and shook it out, hoping it wasn’t too wrinkled. She had a nicer gown in one of her trunks, but they were still waiting for her behind the check-in desk downstairs, and she saw no need to have them brought up only to have them carried down again the next morning. The yellow dress would do nicely.

  She washed up again, knowing she was overdoing it, but wanting to feel clean. Then she put on the dress, brushed out her hair and pinned it again, and studied herself in the mirror over the ba
sin. She missed her earrings, those cheap little baubles her sister had given her the year before as a birthday gift, but she’d be all right without them. They hardly seemed important next to the wedding bands the other passengers had surrendered.

  Enough. She gave a practice smile in the mirror, gathered up her reticule, and headed down the stairs. She was going to enjoy her walk and put everything else behind her.

  When she reached the base of the stairs, she noticed Mr. Dupree in the lobby, and crossed the floor to shake his hand.

  “Thank you so much for everything you did today,” she said, noting the weariness in his eyes. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

  “I’ve only experienced it once before, thankfully.” He gave a rueful smile. “I’m glad to run into you. Colonel Gordon, the marshal here in town, has asked us to stay put until he can question us. The railway has brought in a replacement for me for my next couple of shifts, and the train will be departing in twenty minutes.”

  “When you say ‘us,’ who all do you mean, Mr. Dupree?”

  “You, Dr. Foster, the Jensens, and myself. We’re all key witnesses to what happened. Anyone else who wishes to give a statement may do so, but we’re the lucky ones who have been requested by law.”

  “I suppose it’s just as well I decided to stay the night,” Trinity said lightly.

  “I wish I could promise that you’ll only be delayed that one night, Miss Scott. We might be here a few days.”

  “A . . . a few days? I’m expected in Denver.” A cold hand of apprehension gripped her stomach. What would happen when she was late?

  “You can send a telegram and let your party know where you are. The telegraph office is just down the street here a short ways.” Mr. Dupree nodded toward the front door of the hotel.

  “Yes, I think that would be best. I’ll take care of that as soon as I can.”

  She looked up when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Raymond looked much refreshed. He too had changed his clothes, and his shirt was neat and crisp. She wondered how he’d managed that when everything in her bag looked like it had been tied in knots and stomped on. He smiled when he saw her, and when he reached the bottom step, he held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  “We shall.”

  They left the hotel and meandered up the street, noticing the small houses along the way. “I hope your surgery isn’t scheduled immediately,” she said as they passed a garden of blue and red flowers. “Mr. Dupree was just telling me that the law here in town has asked us to stay until we can be questioned.”

  Raymond shook his head. “I was afraid of that. No, my surgery isn’t until next week, but I’d hoped for more time to meet with the doctors and discuss the procedure. Did he say how long we’d be here?”

  “He thought it might be a few days.”

  “Then I suppose we’re here for a few days.” He turned and smiled at her. “I suggest that we do whatever we can to make this a pleasant layover. This looks like a well-established town with friendly people and plenty to do. I’m sure we can find ways to amuse ourselves.”

  “You keep saying ‘we.’”

  “I do, don’t I? I must secretly plan to include you.”

  She smiled up at him. “It’s not much of a secret. You just told me, after all.”

  “Oh, dear. Now it’s out in the open. It looks like I mustn’t be trusted with anything.”

  They came to the business section of the street—a general store, what looked to be a small boarding house, the telegraph office . . . It was still open, and Trinity knew she should take this opportunity. “Do you mind if we step in here for a moment? I should let . . . my friends know that I’ve been delayed.”

  “Excellent idea. I should notify the Denver hospital as well.”

  They stepped inside, and Trinity blinked at the change from the bright sunshine to the dimmer interior. A young man behind the counter looked up, boredom on his face. “May I help you?”

  “Yes. We’d each like to send a telegram, please,” Raymond told him.

  He slid two sheets of paper across the counter. “Write down what you’d like to say using clear penmanship, and I’ll be right with you.”

  Trinity pulled her sheet closer and considered what she wanted to say. Words didn’t come easily to her, and in this situation, they were even more difficult to construct. Finally, she wrote, Delayed and will arrive as soon as I’m able. She hoped that would suffice.

  Raymond didn’t seem to have any trouble at all deciding what to say and had returned his paper before she finished hers. He looked at her with curious eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I was just trying to keep my message short—I dislike paying a lot for a telegram.”

  He looked as though he didn’t believe her little lie, but he didn’t question her.

  The telegraph operator sent off their notes, and within minutes, they were back out in the sunshine.

  “Does it hurt?” Trinity asked, nodding toward his arm.

  “Yes. Like thunder. That’s why I have hope that it will mend. If there was no feeling whatsoever, I’d be much more disheartened.”

  “I’m sorry. It must be so difficult for you.”

  “It’s certainly not the most enjoyable experience I’ve ever had.” He motioned toward a bench under a tree just a short distance away. “Let’s sit. Our conversations keep getting interrupted, and I haven’t gotten a straight answer out of you all day. I plan to remedy that right now.”

  “A straight answer? I’ve been very straight with you.”

  “All right, I misspoke. A complete answer.”

  They sat side by side. Trinity watched as ladies swished by in their long dresses and gentleman lifted their hats as they passed. A charming community going about its daily affairs, all the while her stomach churned and she wished beyond everything that she could go back to how things had been the day before, the month before . . .

  The train’s whistle sounded in the distance, and Trinity send up a silent prayer that those continuing on would have a more peaceful journey than the one she’d just endured.

  “I asked what was taking you to Denver, but you never answered me. And just now, when we were sending the telegrams—Trinity, I realize this is none of my concern, but something’s bothering you, and if there’s anything I can do to help, I wish you’d let me.”

  She turned to face him. Those little curls along his neck . . . she wondered what it would be like to touch them. They looked soft. “There are two things,” she said after a long moment. “And I’d like to share them, but I can’t decide which to tell you first.”

  He reached out and rested his hand on hers. “I’ve managed to clear my schedule for the next few days, and I’m entirely at your disposal. Take all the time you need.”

  She smiled, her hand warming under his touch. It was comforting, friendly, and yet sent a tingle up her arm. “How did you manage your buttons?” she asked suddenly.

  “Pardon?”

  “On your shirt. You changed it. How did you manage the buttons?”

  His face colored, which surprised her. She didn’t think he was capable of embarrassment. “I hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

  “You hoped I wouldn’t notice how nicely you were dressed? That seems odd,” she replied lightly, trying to put him at ease.

  “There was a gentleman passing in the hall, and I asked for his help. He was a nice fellow and wished me well. Sometimes I can hold the fabric in place with my left wrist while I wrangle the buttons into submission, but if the threads are new . . . well, we’ll just say that the strangers here in Topeka are a friendly sort, and leave it at that.”

  “You dislike asking for help.”

  “Very much, when it’s something as personal as a shirt. There are things a man ought to be able to do for himself.”

  She ached for him. “You’re right, and I’m sorry for asking about it. I was merely curious, but it is a personal thing, and I should have left you to it.”

  “I
have noticed that curiosity is one of your rather outstanding traits.”

  She wasn’t sure if his smirk was one of amusement or mockery. “Do you mean outstanding as in, ‘My goodness! Her curiosity is so delightful!’ or outstanding as in, it’s all you can see when you look at me?”

  “Well, the first, of course. Infinitely delightful.” He moved his hand, but only to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She nearly flinched away from his touch, but she knew he didn’t mean anything improper by it, and she took a deep breath to chase away the panic.

  “I’ve never been so frightened in all my life as I was today,” she blurted. “I . . . keep replaying it in my mind, over and over again, unless I’m thinking about something else, but even then . . . It’s only been a few hours, and I’m already losing my mind. What will I do tomorrow, or the day after, when it won’t leave me alone? I . . . I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re not talking about the surgery,” Raymond said slowly.

  “No, I’m not. That was frightening, I’m sure you understand, but I mean . . . the other things that happened.”

  He didn’t reply for a long moment, and she was afraid she’d said too much. She was always saying too much, being impertinent, bringing up things that were best left unexplored. First, asking about his buttons, and now this—they were strangers. They weren’t connected by anything except a train ride—they hadn’t even been properly introduced. And yet now, she wanted to confide in him, to trust him, and it made no sense.

  When he did speak, his voice sounded as though it came from some distant place. “You have no idea how deeply I regret what happened to you. He never should have said those things, he never should have come that close—the insinuations were horrible, and I would do anything to erase that from your mind.”

  She was startled that he knew so precisely what she had been talking about. She hadn’t supposed that it meant anything to anyone but herself.

  “I know it will do nothing to lift that burden now, but please know that there were two passengers behind you and off to the side who were prepared to spring into action if he had tried to make good on his threat. I caught their eye, and they motioned what they intended to do. There are good men in this world, Trinity, men who are willing to put themselves in danger to protect another. And please know that I would also do whatever I could for you, with one arm or no arms—it makes no difference.”