Carson's Christmas Bride (Hero Hearts; Lawmen's Brides Book 3)

by Natalie Dean

  Sarah sat up, the dream so real that it took her moments to realize that she was alone in the room and safe from harm. This humble cabin seemed so comfortable now; the children asleep, the night still . . . there was no sense of Graham Boone here, even though it was his home. Would he come back here? Surely not, she thought. He had escaped from the jail and to return to Knox Mills would also return him to justice, which he would avoid at all costs. He had already proven that he did not particularly care to be a proper father to his children. There was nothing in Knox Mills for Graham Boone, she told herself. He would not come back.

  She laid back against the pillow and sought, as she always had, the comfort of faith. Her mother had required her family to memorize scripture and now a verse from the Psalms came to mind as a balm for her fears and the disquiet that had disturbed her sleep.

  I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure. You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

  Tomorrow, they would go to church, just as if they were a family, she resolved. It was what the children had done with their mother and now that Mrs. Boone was no longer here, she would expect her children—and whoever was caring for them—to see that they did not stray from the path of righteousness.

  The next morning, the children seemed eager to go to church, donning their new clothing and shoes and standing still while Sarah combed their hair and inspected their faces and hands to make sure that they were clean.

  The Boone cabin was located so distantly on the outskirts of town that the walk to church took longer than Sarah had expected. She resolved that before winter, she would purchase a wagon and a horse. They needed transportation in any case and it would be good for the children to learn to ride.

  She was surprised, when they arrived, to see so few wagons or buggies tethered outside. Did everyone walk to church?

  When they went inside, she saw that the benches were sparsely filled. Was Knox Mills populated by heathens, she wondered. On Sunday mornings in Charleston, all the churches were filled.

  The children hurried to what she guessed was the spot where they had sat with their mother. As they sat down, Mary-Lee Graves, the wife of Deputy Marshal Benjamin Graves, hurried over to her.

  “The smallpox has returned,” she whispered. “My Benjamin is down with it. Carson will be filling in for him. I know that he’s been helping you and I wanted to explain why he may not be able to come around as often.”

  “Smallpox!”

  Mary-Lee nodded. Sarah could see that the woman looked exhausted and worried; her petite face was pinched and the circles under her eyes were dark. In her condition, Mrs. Graves was likely to be more vulnerable to illness, even if she had been vaccinated against the disease.

  Sarah rose. “Will you sit with the children?” she asked. “I’m a nurse; I will go and tend to your husband.”

  For an instant, relief flooded the other woman’s features. “No,” she said, “I cannot ask you to risk that. I have been vaccinated against the smallpox, but most of the people have not. Benjamin—I thought he was, I thought Jack had insisted, but it turns out that none of them has gotten around to it. Menfolk!” she exclaimed, her eyes blazing. “They’re more afraid of a prick to the arm than they are of a bullet!”

  “I have also been vaccinated,” Sarah said, her voice low. “I have nursed as well. If you will mind the children, I can go to your husband and see how severely he is afflicted. Even if he is vaccinated now, the progress of the smallpox may be somewhat alleviated.”

  “I should not impose upon you,” Mary-Lee began, but this time, she was much less strident.

  “I am a nurse,” Sarah said, “and you are not imposing.”

  “Take my horse, Bette,” Mary-Lee urged. “She’s tied to the pecan tree in the back.”

  Sarah rose. “Lucy, I will need you and Erich to help Mrs. Graves. I am going to look after her husband, who is ill. She will care for you while I am gone. Lucy will help you in the kitchen,” Sarah said to Mary-Lee.

  Mary-Lee nodded while Lucy beamed with pride that her housekeeping skills had brought her praise.

  Promising to return as soon as she could, Sarah left the church, aware that the eyes of the congregation were on her. She knew that, even though she was a stranger among them, their prayers would accompany her.

  Chapter 13

  The fever had already taken hold of Benjamin Graves by the time she arrived at the Graves home. He was delirious, calling out names that had no meaning to Sarah. There were no lesions yet, but Sarah knew that they would appear within a few more days as the disease took over. If only she could get a message to Dr. Darnley to vaccinate Deputy Graves right away, he would not suffer as much as he would otherwise. But she could not leave him; she had promised his wife that she would take care of him. She had no doubt that Mary-Lee would watch the children, but she feared for them. What would they think if they learned that the disease which had taken their mother had returned? Although she knew that Mary-Lee would not frighten them, adults were often unaware of how deeply children reacted to fear.

  They had lost their mother. Would they dread losing her, Sarah wondered as she pressed cold, wet cloths against Benjamin Graves’ feverish skin? Or would they care? She was a stranger still, an interloper and, despite the thaw in their response to her, they did not have deep ties to her. Why was she so tied to them, Sarah wondered?

  “Mary-Lee,” Benjamin moaned. His hair was soaked with sweat, his shirt damp. There was no reason for a man with a fever to be wearing a shirt. She was a nurse, and a widow; she was no shy miss who had never seen a man’s chest. She began to unfasten the buttons when she heard someone call out her name.

  “Sarah!”

  “I’m in here,” she called out when she heard the Deputy Harlow’s voice call her name. It was strange, she thought as she bared Benjamin’s chest and began pulling the shirt from his body. She had never heard Deputy Harlow call her by her given name.

  “I heard about Benjamin—what are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m removing his shirt, of course. He has a fever.”

  “Mary-Lee told me that you were here,” he said, approaching the bed hesitantly. “She said that you’ve been vaccinated.”

  “Yes, and you should be too,” Sarah said. “Don’t get too close to him, contact is part of the infecting process.”

  When Benjamin was relieved of his shirt, Sarah continued to wipe his face with the wet cloth. “A quarantine area needs to be established,” she said.

  “Doc Darnley is doing that. The old feed store in town; he’s having people sent there.”

  “We need to bring Deputy Marshal Graves there. And then you can get vaccinated.”

  Carson looked alarmed. “I didn’t get the smallpox last time when it came through,” he said. “I reckon I’m immune.”

  “I reckon you’re a fool for thinking so,” Sarah shot back. “Will you hitch up the wagon and we can take him to town in it?”

  Carson went to do as she asked, marveling that a pretty Southern belle who looked as helpless as a fawn could suddenly transform into a figure of authority, telling a man what to do and brooking no objections. But she wasn’t going to see him get vaccinated, no sir, no matter what she thought. He’d made it through the summer outbreak and that proved that he wouldn’t get the smallpox this time around.

  He drove the wagon with swift care while Sarah sat in the back of the wagon to tend to Benjamin. Her voice was soothing as she comforted the fever-wrought man who was not even aware of her presence. Carson wondered if Benjamin would make it through this illness. He had never seen his fellow lawman so helpless; it had taken the two of them to bring him from the house to the wagon. Carson had tried to take the bulk of Benjamin’s weight so that Sarah would not be overwhelmed, but even so, it had tak
en them awhile until he was placed in the wagon.

  Finally, they arrived in town. Carson steered the wagon over to the old feed store. He alighted from the wagon and went to help Sarah out, but she shook her head. “Please go to Dr. Darnley and ask him to send a stretcher,” she ordered.

  “A stretcher?”

  “Go, quickly. I can’t begin to help with the nursing that needs to be done until we’ve made sure that Deputy Marshal Graves is attended to.”

  “Nursing? You’re going to nurse?”

  “I am, unless you are going to stand here arguing with me.”

  She sure did know her own mind, Carson thought as he made his way into the feed store. The light inside was dim, with only candles for illumination and those in short supply. He found Dr. Darnley bending over a man whose face looked like it had erupted in a veil of thick blisters.

  “Doc, it’s Benjamin, he’s got the smallpox. Sarah—Mrs. Baker—says to send a stretcher to bring him inside.”

  “Two of the men are making stretchers now,” Darnley told him. “This caught us by surprise. If only the people had listened to me when I urged everyone to be vaccinated. What about you, Harlow, you haven’t done it yet, either.”

  “Mrs. Baker has been vaccinated and she said she’s here to help with the nursing,” Carson answered, dodging the matter.

  “Nursing! God bless her,” Darnley responded fervently. “Please ask her to come in right away. You can watch over the Deputy Marshal. Do not get close to him. As soon as the stretcher is ready, I’ll send it out. Please ask Mrs. Baker to come in as soon as she can; if she is an experienced nurse who has been vaccinated, she is a godsend.”

  Carson delivered the message. “Doc says to go in right away,” he told her. “He says I can stay here with Benjamin until the stretcher can bring him inside.”

  “Do not get close to him,” Sarah warned as she stood up and held out her hand so that the Deputy could help her down. But Carson wasn’t going to let her do that; he put his hands around her waist and lifted her up as if she were nothing but a sack of feathers, gently putting her down.

  She smiled, the belle once more. “Thank you, Deputy,” she said. “But do not think that, because you have discovered your gentlemanly manners, I will forget that you are not vaccinated.”

  Saying that, she turned and walked into the feed store, looking like some kind of military leader heading to battle.

  Carson shook his head. Women! There was just no figuring them out. Didn’t she look as helpless as a kitten not so many mornings ago when the Boone kids were running around the kitchen, food thrown everywhere? And now, he didn’t think that Old Hickory himself would have dared to say nay to her if they’d met.

  Dr. Darnley greeted her as if she were the answer to a hopeless prayer. “Mrs. Baker,” he said, “I am sorely in need of a nurse. I cannot risk the health of the other ladies, you understand. They have not been vaccinated, most of them, and I expect that we are going to be overwhelmed with victims of smallpox over the next several days. That dress looks much too fine to be wearing in this situation.”

  “It’s only a dress, Dr. Darnley. I shall get an apron in due time. For now, let me know where you need me first. But first, you must see that Deputy Harlow is vaccinated. He is likely to be infected, despite his protestations that he is immune.”

  “Vaccination now won’t prevent him from getting smallpox.”

  “No, but it will shorten the duration of the disease and the suffering that is to come,” Sarah said calmly. “We are going to need everyone as healthy as they can be if we are to keep this outbreak under control. What measures have you taken thus far?”

  Dr. Darnley quickly explained that he had sent word to the general store, the church, and the local businesses so that they were aware that the former feed store was serving as a hospital. It was a quarantined area; no one was to enter unless vaccinated. There was a small fenced-in area at the side of the building which served as a makeshift greeting area; this was where men were putting stretchers together. Dr. Darnley wanted the stretchers to be taken on wagons and brought through the town and the outlying areas so that patients could be brought to the hospital without delay. “The last time smallpox struck,” Darnley said, “we were scrambling to keep up, but people stayed home and they died. I want them all brought here. We can keep it from spreading and we can take care of them better if they’re all in one place.”

  Sarah nodded. “I’ll go to the patients now,” she said. “You have water, basins, cloths?”

  “We have nothing yet,” Dr. Darnley said. “Except for a growing number of people who are likely to die.”

  Chapter 14

  It was nighttime and Sarah was weary, but her work was not done for the day. More patients had been brought in since the hospital had first opened and Sarah had concentrated her efforts on making them comfortable. By the time they arrived at the hospital, they were suffering from fever, but there were others, still early in the onset of the smallpox, who were weak and nauseated. For all of them, the disease was making inroads according to its own deadly pace. Sarah brought cold, wet cloths to sooth the feverish patients; she brought a basin and linens for those who were vomiting, and she brought water to drink for those who were thirsty, worn and weary. None of the measures was going to halt the symptoms, but it would give them some comfort.

  After she had made her rounds, she asked Dr. Darnley for permission to go outside and get some air. He nodded. “I don’t want you falling ill,” he told her.

  “I’ve been vaccinated,” she reminded him.

  “Against smallpox, yes. But diseases, as you know from nursing, breed infections and any number of contagions. See to your own health as well. I need you.”

  She felt pleased at his praise. It was good to hear that her efforts were useful. She went outside, where the air was cool and clean.

  She leaned against the fence and raised her head so that the nighttime breeze could refresh her cheeks.

  “Sarah?”

  Startled by the sound of her name, Sarah turned. In the darkness, it was impossible to see.

  “It’s me, Carson. I’ve been making rounds and I wanted to know how Benjamin is faring.”

  “He’s sleeping. Dr. Darnley has vaccinated him so that the disease will run its course with less virulence. Have you been vaccinated?”

  “I’ll get to it,” he said, coming nearer. “Others need care more than I do right now.”

  He stood before her, separated by the fencepost between them.

  “Mary-Lee Graves is staying with the Boones. She wanted to come and nurse Benjamin, but with her being in the family way, Dr. Darnley won’t let her.”

  “No,” Sarah agreed. “This is not the place for her. I think that Dr. Darnley has moved quickly on this outbreak and we should not lose as many as were lost over the summer.”

  “But some will die.”

  Sarah was silent for a moment. Some always died. She’d had to get used to that when she nursed in Charleston, but it was never easy. “Yes,” she said at last. “Some will die. But Mary-Lee’s husband is not likely to be among them. He is very strong and healthy and now that he has been vaccinated, he has something to fight the smallpox with. You should—"

  “I will,” he promised. “I will. But not now. I’m not taking Doc away from where he’s needed. Do you need me to bring you anything? Have you eaten?”

  She had, but she couldn’t remember what she had eaten or when she had eaten it. The Wiessens had sent food over from the general store. Or had the hotel sent sandwiches? She couldn’t remember.

  “The children are all right?”

  “Mary-Lee is going to stay with them so they aren’t alone. She used to be a schoolteacher back in Kansas, so she’ll know how to handle them. Not that you don’t,” he added quickly. “I reckon . . . I reckon you know how to handle them now, too. In fact, I think you do a fine job of it.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I hope they are all right. They’re good childr
en.”

  “You care for them,” he said quietly.

  “Yes. I cannot even think of leaving them now.”

  “What will you do if Boone comes back?”

  “I suppose he would have to serve out his sentence.”

  “He would. Then what?”

  Sarah was not sure why Deputy Harlow sounded so insistent in his questioning. It was not a subject that she cared to pursue. She did not want to think about Boone coming back. If he returned to Knox Mills, what would happen to his children? Because they were his children and it didn’t matter that Sarah was caring for them. She was not their mother. There was no legal recourse for her to rely upon. She was a newcomer to Knox Mills. She was not married. She had no network of friends, family or supporters in the town who could come to her aid. And even if she had these people, it would not change the fact that they were Graham Boone’s offspring, not hers.

  “He is not a competent father.”

  “What would you do, Sarah?”

  His use of her first name was impertinent and inappropriate but she did not scold him for his breach of manners. The dark night, veiling them from one another, made it easier to understand and to perceive what the other meant, regardless of the words that were said. Knox Mills, deferential to the illness in its midst and the peril of those who were afflicted, had retired to bed for the night. The street was devoid of illumination. But had it been daylight, or had they had a lamp to ward off the darkness, they would not have been able to have this conversation. It was too personal and too probing.

  “If I must,” she answered at least, after a long silence, “I will marry him. Otherwise, I have no rights to the children and I will not allow them to be sacrificed to Graham Boone’s neglect.”

  “You don’t—you can’t do that,” he said, sounding as if what she did mattered desperately to him. “You don’t understand what he is, or what you’d be dealing with. Justin Ward—he’s the new deputy—he knows Boone. Justin is from this area and he’s known Boone ever since he got here, or at least his family has. He’s always been violent, Justin says. Boone has already hit you, and men like that, once they’ve struck a woman, they figure it’s their right to strike her again. You don’t understand the risk you’d be taking if you married him.”