Brides of Texas (4 page)

Duncan put a restraining hand on the boy’s arm. “Doctor will tell her. Hearing it from him will be more reassuring.”

“Is she scared that bad man will come back?”

Connant and Chris were out in the barn at this very moment, loading the body onto a buckboard. Duncan shook his head. “I give you my word, lad—he’ll never bother you again. Now you finish eating, then we’ll chop up the crisp bits of that roast and go feed them to your dog. After whelping, a mama dog needs lots of food.”

After they’d left with the body and while Duncan took Peter out to feed the dog, Mercy’s door opened. Instead of putting on her nightwear, she’d donned a rust-colored calico dress. Avoiding looking at Robert or speaking, she sidled into the other bedroom.

Robert stood by the door and watched as she smoothed the quilt over the old man’s chest, then combed back an errant lock of his white hair. Her hand shook.

Though she’d washed her hair, it was too thick to towel dry well. Wisps that didn’t make it into the simple bun started to coil around her wan face and nape, reinforcing a vulnerability that tore at him.

She didn’t seem in a hurry to leave her grandda’s side, and Robert struggled with that fact. If she drew comfort from seeing the old man was all right, that was good. She deserved solace whatever the source. Then again, he needed to examine her and hoped to have it finished before Peter came back into the house.

Hooking his thumbs into his suspenders so he’d appear friendly and casual, Rob said quietly, “He’s resting well. With time and attention, he’ll be up and about.”

“Thank you.”

She whispered the words so quietly, he almost didn’t hear her. The hoarse quality to her whisper worried him.
Is she having trouble breathing? She has marks around her throat. If she screamed
… Robert shut down that line of thought immediately. It caused his ire to flare brighter, and she needed him to stay composed. He made the next overture. “Come out to the kitchen. I’ll examine your eye.”

She ducked her head and turned to the side, as if to hide the bruising, swollen eye.

“If we put a cool compress to it, you’ll not look so bruised tomorrow.” He paused. “Your little brother’s out feeding the beasts in the barn.”

She shuddered. “Peter—”

“We’ll talk about him.” Robert tilted his head toward the kitchen table. “Come.”

’Twasn’t an easy span of time, those next minutes. Mercy Stein left her grandfather’s side only to hear about her brother’s condition. Wary as could be, she tried to keep as much distance from Robert as possible.

Robert turned his back on her and took a dishcloth from the rod by the pump. He dampened it, then methodically folded it into a compress. Each move he made was deliberate in an effort to keep from spooking the lass. As he drew close to her, she flinched.

“There, now. This will make a difference.” He extended his hand and offered her the compress.

“I don’t need it. Tell me about Peter.”

The lass has grit
. Robert laid the compress on the table easily within her reach and turned back to his bag. “Other than the bump on his noggin, he’s right as rain.”

The corner of her mouth twitched in acknowledgment.

After taking a few items from his bag and closing it, Robert approached her again. This time, he pulled out a chair and sat at an angle from her—close enough to touch, far enough that she wouldn’t feel crowded. “This is witch hazel.”

He opened his other hand. Cotton wadding tumbled free. “I’ll dab this on your temple, throat, and wrists. It’ll lessen the soreness.”

She cringed back into her chair. “Don’t need it.”

“Miss Stein, did you hear Sheriff Gilchrist? You know I’m a doctor.”

“I have witch hazel if I decide to use it.”

“I’m here to help you,” he said gently. He waited a beat, then stated, “Something happened in the stable.”

Her breath caught.

“Women are delicate, easily hurt. It would be wise for me to—”

“Leave me alone!”

He stood and picked up the cotton wadding piece by piece, then took up the Thayer’s witch hazel. “I’m going to take these into your chamber and bring out the tub. You want your privacy, and I’ll honor that. Witch hazel is very safe and mild. A woman can use it anywhere she hurts. Do you understand me?”

He got no response and didn’t wait beyond a heartbeat. His shoes made the only sound in the small wooden home as he went to her chamber. A tidy little place it was. An airy green-and-white quilt covered the iron bedstead, and matching cushions covered both a small chair and a dowry trunk.

A dowry trunk—no doubt filled with all sorts of useful linens she’d prettified as she dreamed of a happy future. Robert winced. The dreams could still come true, but she’d not go to her wedding with the joy of an innocent bride. Otto knew already. At least she’d be spared having to tell him.

Lily of the valley. He inhaled again. The scent from her soap lingered in her room. Robert lifted the tub and carried it through the kitchen to the back door. As he emptied the water into a flower bed, Duncan and little Peter came strolling back. Peter went on inside while Duncan stopped.

“I’ll spend the night here. I want to be sure the old man’s all right when he awakens. The lass isn’t in any condition to do much, and if they needed help, the boy’s too young to fetch it.”

Duncan nodded. “Should I stay?”

“Nae. ’Tis already hard enough on the lass. The last thing she needs is folks hovering.”

Hours later, Robert moved from the old man’s bedside and peered over the trundle to be sure Peter was sleeping well. Mr. Stein had awakened an hour ago. He answered questions appropriately and worried about Mercy and Peter before slipping back to sleep. In a day or two, he’d learn the truth. For now, he slept with the same innocence as his grandson, deaf to the sound of his granddaughter’s sobs.

Where’s Otto? Connant said she and Otto were engaged to be married
. If ever a woman needed comfort, now was the time. She deserved all of the solace and reassurance Otto could give.

Robert carried the kerosene lantern with him to the parlor. A photograph of a woman and the old man in his younger days standing in front of a different house was propped beside another photograph of a family of four. The third photograph was of the children with their grandparents. It didn’t take much to deduce that Mercy and her little brother were orphaned and reared by their grandfather.
Puir lass hasna had an easy life
.

Even if Peter hadn’t knelt and said a bedtime prayer, Robert would have known this was a believer’s home. A well-thumbed hymnal, a much-loved Bible, and little colored picture cards from Sunday school bespoke that these people lived their faith.
And their faith was just put to an awful test
.

He didn’t want to snoop. Casual observations were fine, but this parlor held too many personal touches. Robert went to the kitchen stove, where he stirred up the coals. Spending the night here was a prudent choice, but it wasn’t a comfortable one.

He wanted to be sure Mr. Stein didn’t brew a fever and hadn’t lost his mental abilities. Between the punctures in the old man’s leg and the bump on the back of his head, either of those complications could occur. So far, neither had materialized. Robert had confidence in his own professional skills, but medical science could only do so much. His faith in the Great Physician’s healing knew no bounds, and he sought wisdom and assistance from the Lord for each case. In regard to Mr. Stein’s welfare, his prayer was being answered.

Robert also stayed for Mercy’s sake. He knew she didn’t want him there, but folks often resented a physician’s presence because it underscored problems they wanted to deny. She might seek care from him still; he’d discovered that in the dark of night, folks sometimes could ask a doctor things they couldn’t speak of in daylight.

He’d set a pot of coffee on to boil after he tucked the boy in for the night. Sickened by the violence these people had suffered, Rob hadn’t bothered to eat. Grumbling in his stomach now made him lift the towel draped over a pan. The yeasty smell drifted up to him as he gazed at the dough that had risen and finally fallen flat. Fried in a dab of bacon grease, such dough still gave an empty belly satisfaction.

The scents of fried bread and coffee filled the house. Robert sat down at the table and ate by the light of that single lantern until a faint creak made him look up.

Still wearing her calico dress and clutching a shawl about her, Mercy slipped out of her own room and directly into the other bedchamber.

Robert walked to the doorway and whispered, “Peter’s been sleeping like a bear. Your grandfather woke about an hour and a half ago. He knew where he was. He’s able to move his leg and wiggle his toes—both excellent signs. I expect him to make a full recovery.”

“I’ll watch over them. You should go.”

“I’ve no doubt you’d hover like a guardian angel if you had the chance, but ’tisn’t necessary. I’m stuck here. I’ve no horse, and even if I did, I couldn’t find my way back to town since I just arrived today. After I change the dressing on his leg in the morning, I’ll leave.”

She pulled the shawl more closely about her shoulders.

“You’ve yet to slumber, and you need your rest. I’ve powders in my bag that will help you fall asleep.”

“No, thank you.”

Robert grudgingly admitted to himself that Mercy shared a trait of his own—she knew her mind and stuck to her plans. Often, that perseverance paid off, but in this case, her stubbornness resulted in needless suffering. He decided it wasn’t worth arguing with her. If anything, she needed to feel she’d regained control—however simple or slight it might be.

“Forgive me, Miss Stein. You’re barefoot and likely catching a chill whilst I natter away the night. I’ll go back to my coffee. If you’d like, I can pour you a cup.”

“I’ll retire.” Though she stated her plan, she made no move to carry it out.

Robert turned and went back to the table. So that was the way of it. She’d refused to brush past him to leave the room. He couldn’t fault her for being skittish; she had just cause to be wary—extremely wary. He’d have to earn her trust, and from this encounter, he reckoned it would take a good long while.

Mercy woke and promised herself it was just a bad dream, but that false hope disappeared the minute she rolled out of bed and hurt all over. Deep purple-black ringed her left eye, and she turned away from the mirror as she pinned her braid into a bun.

The door to Grossvater’s room stood open. A quick peek reassured her that he and Peter still slept soundly. Usually, Grossvater would be stirring, if not up by now. Knowing how he’d chafe at being kept in bed, Mercy hoped he’d sleep late.

She tiptoed past the doctor, too. He’d fallen asleep with his head resting on his folded arms at the dining table. The settee in the parlor was far too short for a man of his height to stretch out on. Just seeing him made her balk. She’d need to speak to him before Grossvater woke up. Would he honor her request to keep what happened from Grossvater?

Otto
. Surely Otto wouldn’t tell anyone. He’d shelter her from the humiliation of others knowing the full truth of what had happened. He’d responded to her screams and come—too late to stop the worst—but Otto knew what happened and killed that awful man.
I’m glad he’s dead. Glad. He can’t come back to hurt me again
.

Steeling herself, she stepped into the barn. Bile rose, and she swallowed it. Just off to her right was where
that man
died at Otto’s hand. Another few steps and she was near the place where he’d held the knife to her sweet little brother’s neck, then struck him in the head. Her legs shook so badly, she could hardly walk deeper into the barn. Over there, in that straw, he’d…

She stumbled and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Evalina’s lowing jarred her back to what she needed to do.
I can go on. I can. I’ll do my chores and make it through the morning. Then I’ll make it through the afternoon
.

Mercy rested her cheek against Evalina’s warm side and listened to the
shhh-shhh-shhh
as the bucket filled with the rhythmic motions of her hands. The smell of milk, hay, and cow were so common. After promising herself that staying busy with tasks would keep her from remembering, Mercy discovered she’d been lying to herself.