Flory’s eyebrows scrunched together. She put the teapot on the table to allow the water to brew. “What do you mean? It’s in my trunk, isn’t it? I haven’t taken that out.”
Gloria shook her head, looking down at her hands. “It isn’t in there, Flory. I can’t find it.”
Flory turned and crossed the room, going up the stairs. Gloria wasn’t always that good at finding items she needed to look for. Sometimes, she had to be directed at least three times.
Gloria’s young mind was always wandering. Woolgathering, their mother called it. Sometimes, it was just easier for Flory to do whatever was needed herself.
Entering the room, she frowned at the mess Gloria had left behind. The trunk was empty, and everything was strewn on the floor. The few books Flory owned were tossed aside and ribbons littered the ground.
Thankfully her clothes had been put in the dresser or else they may have been tossed aside as well. She groaned, stepping over a book and crouched down, examining the wooden bottom of the trunk.
Just as Gloria had said, there was no yarn or needles anywhere to be found. She jumped to her feet and staggered a bit, the sudden pounding in her heart taking her by surprise.
She reached her hand out to try and steady herself, but there was nothing there. She felt like she wanted to retch. Perhaps Gloria was right? Maybe she was becoming ill.
A faintness overcame her, and she felt the floor give way underneath her. She was falling and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Her eyes rolled back, and she heard Gloria scream as Flory felt the impact of her body hitting the floor.
Chapter 8
Jonathan’s heart stopped when he heard Gloria scream. He quickly changed so he could return to the kitchen and have coffee with the sisters.
“Gloria!” he shouted. He wasn’t sure where the scream came from.
“Flory! Flory!”
“Gloria!” he shouted once more.
He heard footsteps running upstairs. “Flory has fallen. Hurry!”
He took the steps two at a time and ran around the corner and into the room. Flory was sprawled on the floor, blood pooling on the side of her head.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Gloria cried.
Jonathan grabbed the blanket from the bed and used it to apply pressure against Flory’s head. She looked so pale.
“Gloria, I need you to go get Harriet. Can you do that for me?”
“Is she dying?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Not if I can help it. A head wound bleeds like the dickens. Now run and get Harriet. Tell her to send someone for the doctor.”
Gloria wiped the tears from her cheek and then nodded. Jonathan could hear her footsteps run down the stairs and disappear through the door.
He lifted the blanket to look at the wound. It was still gushing, so he returned the blanket. He noticed a bit of blood on the edge of the trunk. She must have hit her head when she fell, he thought.
“Flory?” he asked. She didn’t respond. He brushed the hair from her face. “Flory, wake up, honey.”
His leg was turning numb. Still holding the blanket to the side of her head he shifted position, lifting her head slightly and placed it on his lap.
Even though it was only a few moments, time appeared to slow to a crawl. He heard the door open and heavier footsteps could be heard coming into the house.
“Jonathan?” Harriet called.
“Upstairs.”
Harriet climbed the stairs and rounded the corner. “Oh my,” she said looking at Jonathan holding the cloth against Flory’s head. “I brought some warm water and linen cloths. George went to get the doctor.”
Jonathan removed the blood-soaked blanket and held his hand out to Harriet for a wet linen. “I’ll clean it up.” Harriet handed him the cloth and he blotted it against Flory’s head.
“I can do it, Jonathan.”
“She’s my guest. I need to take care of her.” He blotted the blood that was crusting to her skin. The bleeding was subsiding, and Harriet wrapped linen strips around Flory’s head while Jonathan gently held it. “We should probably get her on the bed.”
Harriet grabbed Flory’s feet and Jonathan gently lifted her by the shoulders and they placed her on the bed. Harriet covered her with a light blanket.
“We can’t do anything until the doctor gets here, so I’m going to take this down to soak it,” she said, picking up the soiled blanket from the floor.
“Is she alright?” a small voice called from the doorway.
Harriet wrapped her arm around Gloria. “She’ll be fine. She just hit her head when she fell, and it looks much worse than it actually is.” Gloria gave a sniff. “How about we go get something warm to drink?”
Gloria nodded and took Harriet’s hand to go downstairs.
It took about an hour for the doctor to arrive from town. In that time, Jonathan had managed to clean up the room, placing all the items back in the trunk.
Doc Wiggins, a tall thin man with glasses, came into the room and leaned over Flory. “She really has a goose egg, doesn’t she?”
“She hit her head on the corner of the trunk. It was a small cut.”
“Bled like the dickens?”
Jonathan nodded. “Will she be alright?”
“Let me examine her.” He pulled items from his bag. “Head wounds are terrible for bleeding.” He lit a candle and held it in front of Flory’s eyes, picking up each eyelid before waving the flame in front of them. “She’s responding, which is good.” He turned to Jonathan. “Can you get me some fresh water? I want to clean the wound.”
Jonathan quickly left and returned with a bowl of clean water and several linen strips. The doctor wet the towel and blotted it around the cut. As he removed the dried blood, fresh blood quickly flowed from the wound.
The doctor picked up a needle and thread and quickly used three stitches to close the wound. He then wrapped Flory’s head in gauze. “She’s going to need to stay in bed.”
“For how long?”
The doctor started putting his items back in the bag. “I’d say a week. Let the swelling go down, make sure she doesn’t develop a fever and she has the strength to get up.”
“What happened, Doc?” Jonathan asked. He was really concerned.
“The poor girl was probably overcome with exhaustion. Keep her quiet and if anything changes let me know. Otherwise I’ll be out again in a few days to check up on her.”
Jonathan thanked the doctor and escorted him to the door. After watching the doc leave in the rain, Jonathan headed to the kitchen to see Harriet and Gloria.
Gloria was sitting at the table eating a cookie and drinking a glass of milk. She lifted her head when Jonathan walked in. “Is Flory alright?”
Jonathan ruffled the girl’s hair. “She’ll be just fine. What are you doing here?” he asked, pointing to the paper on the table.
“Mrs. Jackson is helping me write a letter.”
Jonathan sat at the table. “To whom?”
“Father Christmas. Mrs. Jackson said if I write what I want on a piece of paper and sleep with it inside my pillowcase the wish will come true.” Jonathan glanced over Gloria’s head to Harriet, who shrugged and started stirring something on the stove.
“Don’t you have to mail it?”
Gloria finished her milk. “It’s too close to Christmas. If I put it under my head, Father Christmas will find it there.”
Jonathan thought it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, but he admired the faith the child displayed.
“What are you wishing for?” he asked her.
“I can’t tell you. Then it won’t come true.”
“Well then, you should probably get busy on that letter.”
Jonathan stood and walked over to the stove. His eyes drifted to the paper that Gloria had painstakingly printed letters in a list.
My wish:
Flory gets well.
We find a home forever.
Jonathan loves us.
Jonathan
blinked his eyes. There wasn’t any mention of chocolate, or gifts. Just a simple list from the heart of a child.
He didn’t want to tell her that the last two had already happened.
Chapter 9
Flory opened her eyes, blinking away the darkness. The light hurt her eyes, so she quickly closed them again. She let out a moan as her head began to throb.
Muffled voices rose from the room, but she couldn’t distinguish the words or the speaker. She tried to turn her head but realized she couldn’t. It was as if a vice was holding her head in place.
Memories of the past few weeks came rushing forth in a burst of images in her mind. She let out a sob, fighting against the hands that held her.
“Flory!” the voice called. It called again.
In the deep recesses of her mind Flory recognized the voice. It held safety and hope for her and Gloria. Gloria? Where was her sister?
“Why is she fighting you?” There she was. Who was she fighting?
“She hit her head pretty hard, honey,” she heard the masculine voice say. Flory felt a strong hand brush the hair from her forehead. “Can you open your eyes, Flory?”
Flory tried once more. She blinked again, drawing the unfocused world into view. She blinked several times to try to clear her vision. “The light,” she croaked. Her lips were parched, and her tongue felt too big for her mouth.
“Shut the curtains, Gloria.”
The light faded and Flory opened her eyes once more, squinting until they became adjusted to the darkened interior.
She felt a small hand pick up hers and start rubbing the back of her hand. She couldn’t see Gloria because something was blocking her view.
The shape came in focus. Jonathan. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his forehead had deep creases as he looked at her. She could get lost in those deep chocolate eyes.
“Flory?” Gloria’s voice sounded so small. Flory turned and looked at her sister. Gloria’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and her cheeks were red and puffy. Flory could see Gloria’s bottom lip trembling as she tried not to cry.
“It’s okay, Bug. I’m here,” she whispered hoarsely. Gloria put her face in the blanket next to Flory. “Don’t cry,” Flory said, lifting her hand and rubbing the young girl’s hair.
“She was very worried about you.” Flory turned her head towards Jonathan. “How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty.” She lifted her free hand to her head. “And like I’ve been hit with an anvil.”
Jonathan gave a low chuckle. “You really hit your head. Gloria was so worried. We all were.” He placed a glass against Flory’s lips so she could sip the water. It felt cool against her throat. As he pulled away, she lifted her head to reach the glass. “You don’t want to drink too much at once. I don’t want you to retch.”
Flory nodded slightly. “How long have I been out?”
“Two nights. Doc said it was a combination of the head injury and just sheer exhaustion.” Flory tried to sit up and winced at the pain radiating from her head.
“I need to get up. I can’t stay in bed.” Her arms felt weak as she tried to push up on them. Gentle hands pushed her shoulders back to the bed.
“You aren’t going anywhere, missy,” Jonathan said softly.
“Should I tell Harriet?” Gloria asked, squeezing her sister’s hand once more.
Jonathan shook his head. “I’ll tell her in a few minutes. You should stay here with your sister.”
“Oh, Flory,” Gloria cried. “I’m so happy you are alright.”
“I can’t believe it has been over two nights.”
“The doc came out to look at you immediately. Says you need to stay bedbound for at least a week.”
“I can’t do that,” Flory said. “I have work to do. I need to go to town for…” she shot a side glance to Gloria, “for some things.”
“There is nothing you need to do. I need to send one of the men to fetch the doctor. I promised we would send for him once you woke.”
Flory reached out her hand and grabbed Jonathan’s arm. “Please don’t. I can’t afford a doctor.”
Jonathan patted her hand. “You are my guest. It is my responsibility that you are taken care of. Don’t fret yourself.” He turned to Gloria. “You watch her, and I’ll be right back with some water.” He picked up the glass and headed towards the door.
Gloria nodded. Once he left, Flory turned to her sister. “We need to leave.”
“What do you mean, Flory?”
“We can’t stay here. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to pay the doctor.”
“But Jonathan said we could stay here.”
“I know.” Flory waved her hand dismissively in the air. “But what people say and what they mean can be two different things.”
Gloria flounced back in the chair next to the bed. “No. I’m not going.”
Her head was pounding now. “You’ll listen to me, Gloria. I’m in charge. We can find someone who will marry us and give us a home.”
Gloria crossed her arms over her chest and pouted out her bottom lip. “I want to stay here. I like it here.”
“I know you do, Bug.” Flory softened her tone. “But we have to be realistic.”
“I wrote a letter for Christmas.”
“A what?”
“A letter. Harriet said that if I write to Father Christmas and tell him what I want, it would come true.”
Flory eyed her sister skeptically. “When did you start calling Mrs. Jackson, Harriet?”
“When I was staying with her.”
“When was this?”
“While you were asleep. We stayed downstairs in her old room so no one would bother you.”
Flory winced. She didn’t want anyone feeling responsible for her sister. “Where was Jonathan?”
“He didn’t leave your side at all. He slept on the floor, right there,” she pointed to the rug at the foot of the bed. “He wanted to be here in case you woke up.”
Flory thought for a moment and then a horrific idea entered her mind. “That means I was alone with him. That isn’t good.”
“He wouldn’t let anyone else take care of you.”
Flory looked under the blanket. She was in her nightgown. She must have had the question on her face, because before she could ask, Gloria was already volunteering the information. “Oh, Harriet and I changed you after the doctor left. There was a lot of blood. She soaked and washed your clothes.”
Jonathan returned with a full glass of water and Harriet right behind him.
“Oh, my dear child,” she said, pushing Jonathan aside to get to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been kicked by a mule.”
“Just a trunk,” Harriet laughed. “You need to rest.”
“I can’t stay in here all day.”
“You wait to see what the doctor says.”
“Jonathan didn’t bring me here to stay in bed all day. I am supposed to do chores. That is our bargain.”
Harriet lifted her eyebrow and looked at Jonathan. “Well, I’m sure that he knows you need to stay in bed for a bit.” She patted Flory’s arm. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“You might be in a bit. I’ll make you a soft egg and some toast.” Harriet nodded to Jonathan and left the room.
Jonathan sat down next to Flory. “Do you remember anything about your fall?”
Flory thought for a moment. “I remember coming upstairs and I was looking for…? What?”
“The knitting bag,” Gloria offered.
“That’s right. I was looking for my knitting bag.” Panic filled her and her chest started to hurt. She clutched the blanket, her nails digging into the soft cloth. “Where’s my knitting bag?”
“Shhhh,” Jonathan said, trying to reassure her. “It is probably around here somewhere. Don’t get upset.”
“Can you look?” Flory pleaded with him.
He looked at her for a moment with those warm brown eyes and then
he stood and started looking around the room. Gloria opened the trunk again, the dark blood still on the corner of the lid.
“I couldn’t find it in here,” Gloria said to Jonathan.
“Did you check the drawers?” She didn’t remember putting it anywhere, but that didn’t mean anything. It could have been wrapped in one of her skirts. Gloria rummaged through the dresser.
“Flory, I just don’t see it,” Jonathan said.
Flory felt the panic rise, but she was interrupted as Harriet arrived with a tray. She watched as Harriet came by the bed and pointed to Jonathan with her elbow.
“Jonathan, can you help her to a sitting position?”
Jonathan leaned over and put one arm underneath Flory’s back, and the other under her legs; covers and all. Flory took a deep breath. The scent of horses and leather overwhelmed her. She lifted her arm around Jonathan’s neck as he scooted her into a sitting position. It was over too quickly.
As he made sure that she was sitting properly, Flory realized that they were mere inches apart. His deep brown eyes probed hers as if he was seeking answers to unasked questions. Flory flicked her tongue over her lips, trying to ease the cracked skin. She saw Jonathan swallow hard and her eyes flew open wide.
If she didn’t know better, she would have thought that he might kiss her. He turned his head and removed his arms. Flory felt the loss immediately.
“I made you a soft-boiled egg and mashed it up with a bit of butter. One piece of toast and some weak tea.” Harriet placed the tray on Flory’s lap.
“Th-thank you,” Flory said. She took a sip of the weak tea before taking a bite of the egg. Just as she was finishing up her breakfast, the doctor arrived.
“I got here as quickly as I could. I don’t think my horse is very happy with me right now.” The doctor looked at Flory. “How’s the patient?”
“Upset about losing her knitting,” Jonathan replied dryly. Flory shot him a look.
“I’m fine. I should be able to get up.”
“Slow down, Miss West. Let me examine you first.” He looked around the room. “If we can be alone.”
“Do I need to go too, Flory?” Gloria asked. She had come back to the side of the bed and was holding tight to Flory’s hand.
A Cowboy for Christmas (Spinster Mail Order Brides Book 11) Page 5
