Tansy stepped inside at the tail end of Dr. Blackburn’s speech. “I still have an ailing cow,” she said abruptly, skewering Gideon with a look.
“We have something of a crisis on our hands, Tansy. I will come tomorrow if I can, but—”
“I already paid you, Doc.” She looked downright livid. “M’ cow needs looking after, and you’re the only doctor nearby.” Her eyes darted to Blackburn. “This’n ain’t worth nothin’.”
As much as he appreciated the sentiment, Gideon wasn’t about to leave while Miriam was still missing. “I can come tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
It wasn’t like Tansy to be so irate, not over something as inconsequential as a cow with a sore hoof. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Her mouth pulled inward, and her eyes snapped. “I only think a person who helped out another person as much as I helped you with that fever shouldn’t have to argue with that person to get a little help.”
“Are you truly this worried about your cow?” It was an overreaction by anyone’s estimation.
“I am. Now, what’re you going to do about it?”
Blackburn wandered to the window. “This entire town is in chaos.”
“You’d best go with her, Gid.” Cade hadn’t moved from his casual position, though Gideon didn’t doubt he was as concerned as anyone. “I’ll send word if Andrew finds anything.”
“This is not how it’s done,” Blackburn shot back. “If your imbecile finds mine, I had best be the first person he tells.”
“Keep shooting your mouth off like that, and I’ll see to it you experience a bit of ‘chaos.’” No one hearing Cade could interpret that as anything but a threat.
Gideon snatched up his bag from near the door. He hadn’t been without it since learning of Miriam’s disappearance. “Let’s go look at your cow,” he muttered to Tansy.
She’d come in her wagon and motioned for him to climb in. He didn’t want to waste time arguing with her that it’d be more convenient if he rode out on his own. The sooner he saw to this, the sooner he could return to town and rejoin the efforts to find Miriam.
The moment they left town, she urged the horses to a much faster speed.
“You must be really worried about your cow.”
“I am.”
What in heaven’s name was wrong with the animal that she was this upset? Perhaps it had a wounded leg that had taken an infection or had fallen ill in another way. Tansy was not well-off by any stretch of the imagination. Replacing a cow would be a tremendous financial burden. That would be reason enough for her to worry a great deal.
“I’m sorry I’ve been short with you,” he said.
She shook her head. “You’re worried about Miriam. I understand.”
“Tell me about your cow’s hoof.”
“You’ll have to see it for yourself.” She turned the wagon off the road and along the path to her barn.
This didn’t sound like a simple case of hoofrot.
Tansy hopped down and wrapped the horse’s reins around a hitching post. “In here.” She led the way to the barn.
Sunset had come, and the barn interior was dim. Tansy was a step ahead of him, lighting a lantern.
Now able to see, Gideon stepped over to the cow quietly chewing on a bit of hay. Tansy, however, walked right past the animal.
“I’ll need the lantern,” he reminded her.
“This way.” She spoke too firmly to be dismissed.
Gideon followed her to the back of the barn. “Is there another cow? I thought you only had one.”
“Had to say something to get you to come without that blowhard figuring things out.” She reached down and pulled open a door in the floor. “Come on.”
What was going on? He followed her down a ladder into a root cellar. Gideon blinked a few times and squinted to help his eyes adjust.
“She’ll either be hiding or sleeping,” Tansy said. She hung her lantern on a peg on the wall, illuminating a cot tucked into the corner of the cellar. There, fast asleep and pale as a ghost, lay Miriam.
“Thank heavens.” Gideon knelt beside the cot and carefully took Miriam’s hand in his. She didn’t awaken. “Where did you find her? How did you convince her to stay with you?”
“She had another of her episodes,” Tansy said. “Dragged herself here afterward. She knew I wouldn’t turn her over to that brute who’s chasing her.”
His heart dropped. “How bad was it? Has she had more since?”
“She hasn’t said there’ve been any more, but the one she had roughed her up bad.”
He pulled open his doctoring bag. “Is anything broken or out of joint?”
“A lot of bruising and a deep cut on her leg. It don’t seem putrid or nothing, but I thought you’d like to see it.” There was something conspiratorial in Tansy’s tone.
“You mean, you thought I would like to see her.”
Tansy nodded. “I ain’t blind.”
“Thank you,” he said. “For keeping her safe, for bringing me down here, for not even hinting at any of this while Blackburn was listening.”
“She’s good people,” Tansy said. “And I’ve been where she is, when the most dangerous path is the only safe one. Patch her up, Doc. Say your piece if she’ll let you. But if you all can’t thwart that horrid doctor who’s waiting for her, she’ll run again, and I won’t stop her. At least out on her own she has a chance.”
“We’re going to beat him, Tansy. One way or another, we’ll beat him.” The declaration was overly confident, he knew that. But he wasn’t ready to admit defeat.
“I don’t think he suspected nothin’ with you coming out here tonight, but I’ll plop myself on the stool by the barn door and keep an eye out, just in case.” Tansy watched Miriam a moment. “She was kind to me right from the first. Never looked down on me for not being cultured.”
“Like you said, she is good people.”
Tansy climbed the ladder back out of the cellar. The trapdoor closed with a thud. He had only the light of the lantern they’d brought down. Examining a wound would be far easier if it weren’t so dark.
Gideon found an unlit candle in a dinged and battered candlestick holder. He lit it with the lantern and set both carefully on a makeshift table close to the cot. The small flicker of additional light helped.
“Miriam,” he said quietly. He knelt beside her cot and ran his hand over her mess of copper curls. “Miriam, dear. I need you to wake up.”
She stirred but didn’t fully awaken. She had a few cuts on her face. Bruises. Even asleep, her features wore a look of distress and pain. He didn’t rush her. Blackburn wasn’t likely to grow suspicious unless Gideon was gone for hours. He had time to hold her and convince himself she truly was there with him, relatively whole and temporarily safe.
He slipped his hands around hers, warming her cold fingers. Cellars were perfect for keeping food from spoiling, but not such a comfortable hideout for a person.
“Miriam.”
Her eyelids flickered. Was she sleeping so deeply because she was tired, or had she taken ill?
He kept her hand in one of his and used his other to check her forehead. She didn’t feel overly warm. She certainly wasn’t flushed. Indeed, her coloring was worryingly pale.
Her eyes opened at last, though they were unfocused. In the next moment, she sat up. “Gideon?”
Oh, to hear his name on her lips. He would never again take that sound for granted. “You are a difficult woman to find, Miriam Bricks.”
“How did you—?” She dropped back to the cot. “Tansy. I told her not to worry you about this.”
“You’ve been hurt, love. She had certainly better ‘worry me about this.’”
“Nothing severe,” she said. “And there are no signs of infection. I wouldn’t even still be here, exc
ept I felt certain the lot of you were out looking for me, and I didn’t want any of you breaking even more laws or taking even more risks.”
“If we didn’t know where you were, we couldn’t be faulted for not turning you in, is that it?”
“I won’t let you ruin your life.”
“You’ve opted, instead, to ruin it for me.”
She looked genuinely confused. Did she have no idea of his feelings?
He took up her hands again. “We may have begun under less than ideal circumstances, but I count the day you stepped off that stage as the best and most important day of my life. If I were to lose you, there would be little point in continuing on.”
“But with this ax hanging over my head, there is little point in continuing on.”
He would not allow her to live with such despair a moment longer. “Tell me which leg is injured, and while I examine it, I will tell you what we’ve concocted.”
“The left one, just below the knee.”
Over the next few minutes, he discovered two things: she was right about the relative insignificance of her wound, and she was even more terrified of Blackburn Asylum than she had admitted. Over and over she kept saying, “I cannot go back there.”
“Tansy will let you stay here while we await answers to our telegrams or until Blackburn leaves,” Gideon said. “I know it isn’t the finest of accommodations, but it’s better than wandering the expanse of Wyoming. And decidedly better than returning to Nebraska.”
“You underestimate his tenacity.” She sat up fully, tucking her legs beside her and pulling the blanket close. “He won’t give up.”
Gideon set his arms around her. “If we can’t stop him, I’ll go with you.”
She shook her head. “He will find me.”
“We’ll go north to Canada, if need be. His claims have no hold there.”
She shook her head. “But this town. Your practice. You can’t simply abandon them.”
He kissed her temple, then rested his head against hers. “None of that matters without you. None of it.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and he returned the embrace. He was not an easily emotional person, but having her in his arms again, safe and whole, nearly undid him.
“Does Dr. Blackburn know I’m gone?”
“He does. As does your father. Blackburn has been demanding you be returned, even going so far as to threaten Cade.”
“He is most dangerous when he is no longer trying to appear harmless.” The fear in her words could not be mistaken. “A person with a conscience has limits. Dr. Blackburn has neither.”
“I will warn Cade,” he promised. “And we will all take care.”
“Is my father angry?”
“He has said very little. The one time I have seen him since he learned of your disappearance, he was quiet, contemplative.”
She sighed and leaned more heavily against him. “I wish that were more encouraging. If I had the least hope that he loved me, I might feel more confident.”
“Know that I love you, deeply and fully and truly.”
The trapdoor pulled open. Gideon positioned himself in front of Miriam, shielding her as much as he could from view.
“It’s me,” Tansy called down. “Get your sparkin’ out of the way, you two. If Doc’s here much longer, someone might suspect something.”
“I’ll be up in a minute,” he called to her. He turned back to Miriam. Her downcast expression tore at him.
“I had fully expected to never see you again,” she said. “Now that I have, I can hardly bear for you to leave.”
He took her face in his hands and held her gaze with his. “Promise me that you will not run. Not unless you have to.”
“I promise.”
“I can likely make a reasonable argument to return in a day or so without drawing too much attention.” He kissed her forehead first, then the tip of her nose. “Please be careful.”
“I will.” She leaned forward and kissed his lips.
He slipped his arms around her again, returning her kiss with every bit of desperation he’d felt that day while searching for her. Though he’d never allowed himself to fully think it, there’d been many times over the course of the day when he’d feared he would never find her.
“I love you, Miriam Bricks. Do not ever doubt that.”
Chapter 37
Without a window, and with only the meals Tansy brought her to mark the passage of time, Miriam had only the vaguest idea how long she’d been in the cellar. By her estimation, two days had passed since Gideon’s visit. She knew he stayed away to keep her location a secret. Loneliness was the price she paid for her safety. But she was growing nervous.
Footsteps sounded overhead at a time she wasn’t expecting. She’d eaten a few hours earlier; it wasn’t time for another meal. And this footfall was different than Tansy’s heavy and determined steps. These were slow, light, furtive. Someone was either looking for something or didn’t want to be heard. Or both. Gideon would have come directly to the trapdoor. Unless, of course, he had reason to think someone was watching him.
Miriam took up the candle and slipped into the corner, listening. Whoever was in the barn stepped on the trapdoor, but kept going, only to return and step on it again. Then once more. Testing it, likely listening to the sound, sorting out what it meant.
Gideon knew where the door was. Tansy knew where the door was.
Someone else had found it.
The cellar was small with almost nothing to hide behind. Whoever was coming would find her quickly. She didn’t know if the new arrival was friendly but had to assume not.
The trapdoor shook. Someone was hopping on it.
Miriam sat on the floor between the wall and a few barrels. She blew out the candle. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, especially if it was daytime—light would come in through the trapdoor once it was opened—but she had no other options.
The door squeaked. No light spilled in. It was nighttime, then. That would help her. She knew the cellar better than anyone other than Tansy, well enough to navigate in the dark. That would give her an advantage.
Footsteps sounded off the rungs of the ladder. Miriam held her breath. Whoever was coming down hadn’t brought a lantern. She didn’t hear the swish of a skirt. A man, then. Who would be looking for her in such a secretive way other than Dr. Blackburn? She didn’t allow the thought to take root; she couldn’t afford to panic.
The new arrival stepped onto the dirt floor with the same light step he’d used in navigating the barn above. Miriam had spent enough time in the dark that she could likely see better than he could, but even her vision was dim.
Should she stay hidden and hope he didn’t make a thorough search, or should she try to climb out while he wasn’t looking? She likely wouldn’t be fast enough, but it might be her only chance.
She inched closer to the ladder, praying the darkness would keep her hidden long enough to make her escape. Her shoulder was still unreliable and tender. The wound in her leg, while not debilitating, made her less steady on her feet. The Fates seemed determined to undermine her.
“Miriam?”
She froze. That wasn’t Dr. Blackburn.
“Doc said you was down here.” It was Andrew. “Blackburn has sorted it out. He knows you’re hiding on this end of town. Won’t be long ’til he starts searching here.”
Miriam could see enough to make out Andrew’s silhouette. “How much time do I have?”
“He’s just finished at the Clarks’ house. I’m gonna sneak you there, and Mr. Clark will take you to town.”
“To town?” She shook her head. “Dr. Blackburn will return there. My father is there.”
“And they’ve both combed the place,” Andrew said. “They won’t be looking for you there.” Andrew knocked into a barrel on his way back to the ladder. “Mrs. Wilh
ite and Mrs. Carol have an empty room above their shop.”
“I won’t expose them to Dr. Blackburn’s viciousness.” Still, she climbed out of the cellar, Andrew right behind her.
He dropped the door back into place. “There’s not a soul in this town who wouldn’t do everything they could for you. We won’t let Blackburn hurt you. We won’t let your pa hurt you, either.”
“And I can’t let them hurt you, any of you. If you break the law to thwart him, there will be consequences.”
Andrew squared his shoulders and stood firm. “We need you here, Miriam, and we’re tucking you away until we are sure we can keep you.”
“Andrew—”
“I’m deputy sheriff of this town. It’s my job to look after the people here. Let me do my job.”
She had never seen him so resolute. He was bravely and willingly undermining the very man who had labeled him a lunatic. He was thwarting that man’s cruelty despite the danger. There was firmness and confidence and surety in his words and bearing. Perhaps some of his wounds were finally beginning to heal.
“I am sorry, Andrew,” she said. “You are right. I’m being stubborn.”
“We need to hurry.” He led her from the barn and into the fields behind Tansy’s house, away from the road. “I know a back way to the Clarks’. We’ll not be seen.”
Not another word was spoken as they traversed the dark fields. She kept close to his side, and he checked for her at regular intervals. Mr. Clark was waiting for them when they arrived.
“Blackburn’s already gone up the road to Tansy’s. Now’s our best chance for getting you to town without him noticing.”
“This is such a risk,” Miriam said.
“My wife’s kept the children in the back. They’ll not know you were ever here, so there’s no chance of them giving you away.”
That was at least comforting. “What do you need me to do?”
“Though I hate to ask it of you, I need you to climb in the wagon bed under the canvas and tuck yourself among the barrels and crates.” He pulled back the cloth. “I don’t think we’ll run into Blackburn, but it’d be best not to have you sitting out in the open.”
Healing Hearts Page 25
