Annetta tore her patient’s blood-soaked shirt and packed his chest wound, hoping she could slow the bleeding. But already the man appeared diaphoretic, and the faint pulse he had was racing. To sum it up, he was about to bleed to death.
Four men showed up, and Reverend McCabe explained the situation to them. Then he turned to Annetta and held out his arms. “Why don’t you go on ahead and open the door and ready anything you’ll need to treat his wound.”
Nodding, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders and felt his hands on her waist. In one fluid move he lifted her down and set her feet on the plank walk. Annetta fumbled in her skirt pocket for her keys, wondering why her face flamed. Back in Philadelphia, scores of refined, educated men had helped her down from carriages and the like. Why in the world was Jacob McCabe having such an effect upon her sensibilities?
And why was she thinking about him now when she should be focused on a dying man?
Annetta found the key and opened the door. She walked through the sitting room, then the library, and finally back to the examination room, which doubled as an operating room. Oh, if only there was a hospital in town!
The men came in right behind her, and Annetta instructed them to lay the patient on the clean sheet-covered wooden table. They obliged her.
Afterward, they stood back.
“Let’s leave Dr. Cavanaugh to her work.” Reverend McCabe shooed the men out of the clinic. He paused before following them out. “Would you like some assistance? I don’t know a lot about doctoring, but I can—”
“I can manage. Thank you.”
Without another word, the reverend turned. The footfalls of his uneven gait filled Annetta’s ears until they stopped, probably in the sitting room. She figured he’d wait for word about her patient, and somehow knowing he was out there comforted her.
She washed her hands and donned a black apron before inspecting her patient. A bluish shadow had crossed his face. Death lurked nearby. She removed the pieces of his shirt to inspect the chest wound more closely and realized then that there was nothing she could do.
Only seconds later, the stranger was dead.
Annetta stitched up the wound in case the man had family and wanted a funeral. Once the task was completed, she strode to the washbasin. As she soaped up her red-stained fingers, memories surfaced of Gregory, lying by the hearth, mortally wounded. She hadn’t been able to help him either.
Why? Every muscle in her body tensed with anger. She hated death’s brutal mockery.
Slipping out of her apron, she placed it in a basket of other soiled items needing to be laundered before making her way to the front to tell the reverend the news. She was surprised to see Sheriff Montaño beside him.
Both men stood as she entered the room.
“I did all I could.” She lowered her gaze. “But he didn’t make it.”
“I had a hunch he wasn’t going to.” Reverend McCabe held his black hat in front of him with both hands.
Annetta shrugged at his remark.
“May I see the victim of the alleged Indian attack?” The sheriff stepped toward her.
Nodding, Annetta led him to the back. Reverend McCabe followed.
After a ten-second inspection, the sheriff’s features contorted into a heavy frown. “Him.” He said the word like a curse. Then he lifted the dead man’s head up by his dirty brown hair. “Wally Hankins.”
“You know him, Montaño?” The reverend set down his hat and put his hands on his hips.
“Sí, I know him. He is a wanted man. A murderer and a thief.” He dropped the man’s head unceremoniously, causing Annetta to wince when it bounced on the metal table. “Little wonder why the Indians killed him. If he’d lived, he would have hanged.” Paden Montaño’s dark eyes moved to Annetta. “I am sorry you wasted your time, Doctor.”
“Time spent saving a life, no matter to whom it belongs, is never wasted.”
“Hmm…” Montaño shrugged. “You are very gracious.” He bowed then turned around and searched the dead man’s pockets. “I will bring over the wanted poster, and the two of you can verify and attest to Hankins’s identity.” Finding a gold pocket watch, he turned and handed it to Reverend McCabe.
“WH,” the reverend read. “I reckon this is another proof positive the man is Hankins.”
“Sí. And I will notify Senõr Rivers. He will come for the body.”
Jake nodded.
Annetta knew of him, Billy Rivers. She’d made his acquaintance numerous times. Mr. Rivers was the town’s wagon-maker and blacksmith, and he also ran the mortuary. An odd side job, perhaps, but a very necessary one in this town.
The sheriff took his leave, and Annetta covered the dead man with a sheet.
“Are you all right?” Jake asked.
“Of course.” She felt insulted that he would ask. As a trained physician she saw people die often enough. Besides, her wellbeing was none of his business.
Ignoring him, Annetta strode to the large rolltop desk she’d managed to bring with her from Pennsylvania. She took out a piece of parchment and dipped the pen into the inkwell, preparing to write the death certificate.
“Well, I’ll be leaving now. Have yourself a good rest of the night.”
Annetta stiffened. “You also, Reverend McCabe.”
She listened to his footsteps and finally the opening and closing of the door. Her conscience pricked for her rudeness, but the fewer people who liked her in this town, the better. She was far too busy to make friends and get involved in their lives, and she certainly didn’t want anyone in her life.
Suddenly Annetta realized ink had been dripping from her pen and spreading a black stain across the parchment. She set the pen aside and stared at the inkblot. It resembled a heart. Annetta looked closer. And sure enough, it was breaking.
ELEVEN
AN HOUR LATER THREE HARD KNOCKS SOUNDED AT THE door. Annetta set aside Mr. Hankins’s death certificate, which she’d finished penning. Mr. Rivers and an assistant had come for the body a half hour ago.
She stood and straightened her dress and made her way to the front of the building. Another few raps and Annetta reached the latch and pulled. There on the boardwalk stood Reverend McCabe, his brother, and Miss Stafford. Each held a linen-covered basket.
“What can I do for you?” Her gaze flitted back to Reverend Jake.
“I reckon it’s what we can do for you, Dr. Cavanaugh.” He wore a wry grin. “You see, none of us had our supper yet, and we have it on good account that you didn’t eat much yourself before you were called into duty. So we brought chicken, biscuits, and corn in hopes of sharing them with you.”
Annetta opened her mouth to refuse the offer, but then her stomach protested loud enough for at least him to hear. Her face flushed with embarrassment.
He laughed and pushed past her. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
The other two smiled and followed him.
“Please, come in.” Annetta spoke the words after the fact. She felt her resolve crumbling like stucco. There was just something about that man and his charm and persistence. “My quarters are upstairs.” She motioned toward the back and grabbed the lamp off the wall. “Follow me.”
Annetta led the trio to the stairs behind the clinic to the narrow stairwell that led to her apartment. She unlocked the door and stepped aside so her guests could enter.
“It’s not fancy.” Annetta hated the apology in her tone. “However, I do have a nice table at which we can all sit.” She set the lamp down, found another, and lit that one too.
When they reached the dining area, which served as a parlor of sorts, Annetta gathered four chairs while the baskets of food were unpacked. Cool night breezes blew in through the opened windows along with strains of bawdy music from across the street.
“How nice that we can share a cozy dinner tonight,” Miss Stafford said, “instead of sitting at a crowded table at the boardinghouse.”
“Crowded?” Annetta knitted her brows. “Since when?”
/> “Since a couple of soldiers came from Fort Yuma today,” Reverend Luke replied. “A lot of townsfolk decided to take advantage of their time and bend the officers’ ears about the Indian situation.”
“It doesn’t help,” Reverend Jake added, “that news is circulating about the outlaw’s death. No one seems to care about who Hankins was, just how he died—from an Indian’s arrow. The sheriff is there too, defending the Indians, which is causing more of a stir.” He held out a chair. “Have a seat, Dr. Cavanaugh.”
“Thank you.”
Reverend Luke politely held Miss Stafford’s chair. Then both he and Jake sat down. As Annetta reached for her napkin, her elbow bumped Jake’s.
He fixed his brown eyes on her. “It’s cozy all right.”
Annetta smiled. She couldn’t help it. Something about his glib remark struck her funny bone, if there ever was such a thing.
“Let’s pray.” Reverend Luke bowed his head, and the others followed suit.
Annetta sat by and mentally distanced herself. She’d given up on God a long time ago and didn’t see any point in thanking Him. Once grace was said, she reached for the biscuits.
“You know, Dr. Cavanaugh,” Jake started off, “you’re real pretty when you smile. You ought to do that more often.”
“Well, perhaps I will if there’s ever something to smile at.”
Beside her, she felt rather than heard Jake’s chuckle, but she glimpsed Luke’s amused grin.
“Woe abounds. Nothing to smile about here in Silverstone.” Reverend Luke’s mouth split into a grin. “Except for maybe Mrs. Morchunk’s new hat. She wore it last Sunday.”
Miss Stafford looked like she fought to conceal a smile. “That’s not nice, Luke. She made that hat herself by dipping fruits and berries in wax then adhering them to her straw bonnet.”
“Well, I got hungry just looking at it.”
Miss Stafford rolled her eyes.
“I’ll bet you McCabe boys were a handful when you were growing up.” Annetta glanced at the schoolteacher. “Would you agree, Miss Stafford?”
“Oh, please call me Bethany, and, yes, I would agree.”
“Now you just hold on, honey.” Luke pointed his fork at her, feigning indignation. “I was a good kid.”
“And that’s why you put frogs and other reptiles in your cousin’s bed when she visited?” Bethany lifted a piece of chicken to her lips.
“Not me. It was Jake who did that.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Annetta retorted. True, she didn’t know these men well, but somehow she could envision a younger Jake McCabe pulling all sorts of pranks. Maybe an older one too.
He chuckled before biting into a biscuit.
“I was a perfect child,” Luke stated dramatically, “looking up to my older brothers for example—and finding none.”
Bethany sent him a skeptical stare before smiling and taking another bite of her chicken.
“Hush, Luke, before I give all your transgressions away.” Jake sent him a hooded glance.
“You wouldn’t!” He looked aghast.
“Sure would.” Jake pushed the remainder of his biscuit into his mouth.
“See? Some example you are.”
Bethany laughed and gave Jake’s shoulder a playful shove.
Annetta grinned, thinking the McCabe brothers were quite entertaining. And as much as she hated to admit it, there was something that drew her to them, Jake McCabe in particular.
“Do you mind if I ask how you injured your leg, Reverend McCabe?”
He met her gaze. “I’d be obliged if you’d call me Jake.”
“All right.” She didn’t see any harm in it. “You may call me Annetta.” She glanced around the table. “All of you.”
A moment of silence passed. “Back to your question about my leg, I rode with McCulloch’s Army of the West and got wounded at Wilson Creek. Lead ball shattered my leg. It never healed properly.”
Annetta felt her throat grow dry. “McCulloch?” A Southern general. “You’re a…a Confederate?” Another reason not to like Jacob McCabe.
“I hope that’s not a problem,” he said with a lazy drawl.
She clenched her jaw, unable to trust the next words from her mouth.
“War’s over, Annetta.” Jake helped himself to chicken. “I had my reasons for fighting with the South.”
“You believe in allowing one man to own another?”
“No. I believe in the Constitution of this country and states’ rights. I also didn’t appreciate the heavy taxes the North imposed on Southern farmers, shippers, and other hardworking men. However, I am opposed to slavery.” He grinned wryly. “In fact, most of the soldiers I fought beside never owned a single slave.”
Annetta replied with a dismissive roll of her shoulder and trained her gaze on Luke. “How about you? Are you a Confederate as well?”
“No, ma’am. I decided to remain neutral, being a chaplain and all. Then a funny thing happened at the first Bull Run. I got hit in the head with something, maybe a lead ball. I lost my memory and wound up with a Northern regiment until my brother Ben found me. I’m told I fought alongside them, although I don’t exactly recall if I did or didn’t.”
“Really? A head wound?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Curious, Annetta turned to Jake. “And how does it make you feel that your own brother fought on the opposing side?”
“Well, it didn’t start off that way. Both Luke and Ben thought both sides had good points. Both hated war, but Ben felt called to photograph the war as it happened and Luke felt called to share God’s Word with the soldiers.” Jake wagged his head and grinned. “Didn’t bother me. I’m glad we all came home alive.”
“Amen, brother,” Luke said.
Annetta couldn’t share their joy and relief. She’d lost her brother and…Gregory.
“Jake’s always been interested in politics and community events. That’s why he’s on the Silverstone’s advisory board. He’d be mayor of the town except he keeps returning to Missouri to recruit new residents.”
Jake chuckled softly.
“My brother wouldn’t tell you this because he’s much too humble…” A facetious note rang in Luke’s tone. “Seriously, Jake is a fine carpenter and was instrumental in helping rebuild Arizona City. You see, the town was nearly wiped out in the flood back in sixty-two. With the war and all, the rebuilding took years.”
“That it did,” Jake said. “I was happy to help.”
“Some residents here in Silverstone were flooded out too,” Luke added. “Folks still talk about it.”
Annetta lifted a shoulder and shook her head slightly. “I haven’t heard about it yet, but it sounds terrible.” She eyed Jake more closely. “You’re a carpenter?” She suddenly imagined a hospital at the end of Main Street, adjacent to the church.
“Yes, ma’am.” He met her gaze. “Do you have a project in mind for me, Annetta?”
“Perhaps…in the future.” Did she dare reveal her idea to him? After all, Jake was a town board member and had probably hoped for a male doctor.
“So you like it here, Annetta?” Jake reached for a chicken leg. “Think you’ll stay?”
“I’m adjusting, and I plan to stay—unless city officials drive me out.” She gave Jake a pointed look.
“I don’t think there’s cause for concern there.”
Annetta pulled her gaze from Jake’s. “What about you, Bethany? It seems you’ve adjusted well enough in Silverstone. And now you and Luke are going to be married. How nice for the both of you.”
“Yes, it’s nice.” She pushed out a polite smile while Luke turned and seemed to study her every move.
“Beth is still…adjusting too.” Luke stretched his arm out on top of Bethany’s chair. “Wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Her eyes met Luke’s for the briefest of moments, and Annetta had a sense that her first inklings had been correct. Bethany wasn’t excited to get married.
“So when is your wedding?” Annetta pressed.
“As soon as Jake builds his own cabin and will marry us.” Luke wore a wide grin.
“I can start, now that I’ve got lumber.”
“Well, I thought we’d be married in the spring.” A frown furrowed Bethany’s brow as she gazed at Luke. “In Jericho Junction. So your entire family can all attend.”
Silence fell over the table, and Annetta watched the interesting dynamics around her. Bethany looked wide-eyed and hopeful while Luke appeared pensive and rubbed his shadowed jaw. Jake narrowed a puzzled gaze at his brother.
“I know Sarah will want to come for the wedding with Richard and their little one.” Bethany sounded like she tried to convince him. “Leah, Jon, and their children. Valerie, Ben, and their brood. And Adalia and her husband…why, they’re part of the family too. I imagine your father officiating the ceremony.” She swung her gaze to Jake. “No offense intended.”
“None taken.” He still stared at Luke.
“Your father’s a minister also?” Annetta glanced from Jake to Luke and back to Jake again.
“That’s right.” Jake pulled his gaze from Luke and gave his attention to Annetta. “We’re from Jericho Junction, Missouri. It’s a small town, just west of St. Louis.”
“Yes, I’d heard you were Missourians.” Annetta looked at Bethany. “And you’re from Wisconsin, correct?”
She nodded.
“And what about your family, Bethany?” Annetta couldn’t help asking. “Do you have relatives who will want to attend your wedding ceremony?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps my brothers and sisters…there’s a chance my father will let the older ones come with Sarah and Richard. But he and my stepmother…” She paused and her eyes flitted to Luke, then Jake. “I doubt they’d be able to leave the farm for that long.”
Then all at once Bethany sat back in her chair. “My, but this is a good supper. Mrs. Winters outdid herself again.”
“Hits the spot, that’s for sure,” Jake conceded.
“You really want to wait until spring to get married?” Luke brought the subject back up despite Bethany’s efforts to change it. He stared at her with what Annetta thought was a wounded expression. “I’d hoped by Christmas.”
An Undaunted Faith Page 12
