Debra Holland (13 page)

Ant extended his arm to her. “My lady. Shall I escort you to Mrs. Murphy’s?”

Harriet blushed and set her hand in the crook of his arm.
 

They fell into step. Although Ant was far taller than any man she had ever walked with, he courteously kept his arm at an angle that was comfortable for her. Her sore ankle made her grateful for his support.

“Some fireworks back there.”

Harriet looked up at him to see Ant’s crooked grin, peeked eyebrow, and teasing brown eyes. “Oh, dear, you heard.”

Ant chuckled. “I would have paid money to see the look on Mrs. Cobb’s face.”

“Puce and puckered.”

Ant laughed again. “What a vision.”

“It was, indeed,” Harriet admitted ruefully. “Your invitation offered a welcomed escape.”

“I don’t think Widow Murphy’s is going to be much of an escape.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “My thoughts, exactly. But for right now, better than the Cobbs.”

“And later?”

She sobered. “I’ll worry about later...later.”

They’d reached Widow Murphy’s house and went around the side to the kitchen door. Once again, Ant set down the basket so he could open the door for her.

In the middle of the kitchen, Widow Murphy sat in a chair next to the wooden tub. David crouched in the tub, his legs drawn up, arms wrapped around his knees, as the woman attacked his back with a scrubbrush. He whimpered in pain, tears rolling down his face.

A wave of anger carried Harriet over the threshold, Ant close on her heels. She tossed the parcels on the table, then stormed over to Widow Murphy and grabbed the scrubbrush out of her hands. “He’s not the kitchen floor. You’re hurting him!”

“That boy has years of ground-in dirt. He needs to be scrubbed off.”

“You’re scrubbing off his skin along with the dirt! It’s cruel.”

“How dare you!” Mrs. Murphy puffed up like a rooster.

Ant came up behind them. He placed a quieting hand on Harriet’s back before kneeling down next to the tub and brushing the stringy wet hair out of David’s reddened eyes. “I’m sorry, David. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I shouldn’t have left you.”

Harriet heard a whole wealth of pain in Ant’s words, and her heart twisted in sympathy. “Why don’t we finish giving him the bath,” she said to him. “We can be
gentle
.” She shot a sharp look at the widow.

The woman’s body trembled with rage. She shook her head, and her wattle jiggled. “Don’t you order me around in my own house.”

Ant rose to his feet, his dark length towering over both of them. “Mrs. Murphy,” he said in a firm tone. “Let’s talk in the parlor.”

Harriet took off her new bonnet and set it on the table. She grabbed the towel from the washstand and dipped one end in the water, then gently wiped David’s tearstained face.

He scrunched his eyes shut and turned his face away, making a noise of protest.

“I know, dear. This is uncomfortable. Let’s get you clean so you can get out of the bath.”

He didn’t turn his head.

Harriet kept up a flow of soothing one-way conversation, but to no avail. David wasn’t responding. She needed to try something else.

Harriet started to hum. She soaped the towel, then ran it down David’s arm.

He flinched, but didn’t protest.
 

She glanced at his face, but was disconcerted to see how his eyes stared into nothing. She increased the level of her humming, gently washing the cloth down his body. Gradually his muscles relaxed.

The water in the tub turned darker. She needed to change it but didn’t want to stop. She worried how David would react if they made him get out of the tub while they emptied and filled it again.

“David, I’m going to wash your hair. I want you to keep your head tilted back and your eyes closed.”

Harriet reached over to a bowl on the table and grabbed the handle of a ladle. She dipped it in the dirty water, and then sprinkled it over his head, smoothing his hair back with the palm of her hand so no soap would drip into his eyes. Once his hair was wet, she took the bar of soap and rubbed it over his head, then worked it through the long strands. Then she rinsed the soap out.
 

David started to shiver.

He probably needed another soaping and rinsing, but he was clean enough. He could always take another bath tomorrow.

With a pang, she realized she wouldn’t be here to give him one. Maybe she should have Ant take him to the bathhouse, although from the rumors she’d heard about the place, maybe that wasn’t a good idea either. Ant would just have to do the bathing himself.

CHAPTER TEN

Knowing he was leaving his nephew in good hands, Ant led Mrs. Murphy into the painfully clean parlor, as sparsely decorated as the Cobbs’ was ornate. He turned to face her, holding onto his temper as if damming up a stream.

Charm, Gordon. Use charm
. Once, he’d possessed that ability in abundance. Overabundance, actually, considering some of the escapades he’d engaged in during his younger years. Just that thought was enough to lighten his anger. Not much, but a little.

“Mrs. Murphy,” he said in a manner so smooth you could skid on it. “I know—”

“Don’t you try to bamboozle me, Mr. Gordon. I don’t run a lodging house for boys.”

So much for my charm.

“David’s been through a horrible experience. Actually, several years of abuse. I appeal to your sense of Christian charity, Mrs. Murphy. The boy needs food and shelter. It will only be a few days, while I figure out what to do.”

Her expression remained mulish.

So much for Christian charity.

“I’ll make it worth your while, Mrs. Murphy. Just for a few days.”

“Three, Mr. Gordon. Three days. And I want
triple
my regular room and board.”

“Then we have an agreement. You will be....” He was going to say
kind
, but didn’t think the woman had any caring blood running through her veins. “You’ll be...
accommodating
to David.”

She gave a sharp nod that bounced her wattle. “I’ll be in the garden until you finish bathing the boy,” she said, each word sharp. “Then I’ll git the meal together. I’ve got venison stew cooking on the stove. Bread’s baked, although,” she grimaced, “it’s no longer a whole loaf. I’ve already made a lemon cake from California lemons.”
 

Ant gave her a slight bow. “I think your lemon cake will be a treat for David. One he hasn’t had in several years. For that matter, it’s been quite a while since
I’ve
had lemon cake, so I’ll look forward to it.”

Her face didn’t soften, and she left the room.

Old besom.
Ant took a moment to take several breaths and calm down. He and David had a reprieve. Hopefully, that would be enough.

* * *

Widow Murphy stomped into the kitchen. Ant followed her, hoping that Harriet had things well in control with David. Without a word, the woman stormed to the door, took a battered straw hat from a peg on the wall, and plopped it on her head. Then she continued out the door. Harriet, crouched down by the tub, looked up in inquiry at him.

“She’s letting us stay here for three more days.”

“How did you accomplish that?”

“Judicious bribery.”

She laughed.

Seeing Harriet smile for the first time lightened a bit of the heaviness and guilt that Ant had carried with him all day.

Harriet tilted her head toward the stove. “We’re going to need clean water. Check the temperature. If the water is too hot, add some cold.”

Ant hurried to obey.

They worked together, sometimes fumbling, to get David cleaned, rinsed, dried, and dressed in his new clothes. He didn’t help, just moved his limbs like a marionette whenever they told him to do something. Then Harriet combed out David’s hair. “Maybe we can give him a haircut tomorrow,” she said to Ant. “He’s been through enough today.”

Ant smiled at David. “That you have.” He handed him another hunk of bread.
 

The boy slowly nibbled at the chunk, still staring vacantly out the window.
 

“Tomorrow’s good.” Ant tried to force some optimism into his tone. “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

“Well, it certainly couldn’t be worse,” she retorted.

Shame coiled around his gut. Before he could say anything, a knock sounded on the door.

Ant opened it to see Dr. Cameron, dressed in a black Prince Albert coat, standing with a leather satchel in his hand. Ant had met the doctor during his quest to find David and had formed a good impression of the man. His blue eyes looked tired, but his cheerful smile with the crooked teeth, banished the signs of fatigue.

“I’m told you’ve found your nephew and wanted me to examine him?” he said in a Scottish brogue.

“Please come in.” As the doctor stepped inside, Ant continued, “I’d also like you to examine Miss Stanton who was attacked today.

Harriet shot him a sharp look. “I’m fine!”

Doctor Cameron set his bag on the table next to Harriet’s bonnet. He took his hat off, and then dropped it next to the bag. He ran his hand through his red hair. His curls sprang up. “How about I see to David first, Miss Stanton, and you can fill me in later on what happened and let me be the judge.”

Harriet grudgingly acquiesced.

All this time, David sat in the chair, like a stick figure, staring out the window. Only the tenseness of his posture betrayed any emotion.

Dr. Cameron fished a hard candy out of his sagging pocket, walked over and crouched down in front of David, eye level to the boy. “David, laddie. I’m Doctor Cameron.” He held the sweet up to David’s face. “I’m here to see how you’re doing. Can you tell me if anything hurts?”

David didn’t move. Nor did he look at the doctor.

Dr. Cameron pressed the candy into David’s hand. “You can eat that later.”

The boy’s fingers closed around it.

Ant gestured to David. “He’s been like that the whole time. Hasn’t said a word.”

The doctor ran his hands over David’s arms and down his torso.
 

David winced.

“He has a bruise there,” Harriet offered. “I saw it when I bathed him.”

The doctor unbuttoned David’s shirt, and he visually examined the bruise. “I’m going to press on you there, David. It will hurt, but I need to know if you have broken ribs.” The doctor followed his words with his fingers.

David shrank away, giving a little mew of pain.

“Not broken,” Dr. Cameron said in a cheerful tone. “Now for your legs.” He ran his hands down David’s legs.” He peered into David’s eyes, and took a metal tongue depressor out of his bag and looked down his throat. Standing, he ran his hands over David’s scalp. He patted David on the head before turning to Ant.
 

The doctor pointed to the parlor door. “Why don’t we talk in there? Miss Stanton, if you’d keep an eye on the boy?”

Harriet sent David a warm smile. “Both eyes.”

The men went into the other room, and Dr. Cameron lost his cheerful air. “That laddie’s
been dreadfully abused.” The doctor’s accent thickened. “If that father of his wasn’t dead, I’d be tempted to take my buggy whip to him.”

 
“I believe the first honors would have gone to me, Doctor.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Ant related the story. Even the retelling was enough to make his muscles tight.

Dr. Cameron reached up and clasped Ant’s shoulder. “It’s hard for a parent when something happens to his child.”

“I’m not his parent.”

“You are now.”

Ant digested that thought. It formed a lump in his stomach.

“He’s obviously malnourished. He’s been mistreated, but physically, with some good food in him, he’ll fill out.”

“What about talking?”
 

The doctor hesitated. “David’s been through a lot, but I don’t find a bump on his head to indicate an injury. I believe it will take time. Perhaps when he feels safe, he’ll come around.”

“You’re sure?”

Dr. Cameron gave him a wry glance. “Like I said. Give him time.” The doctor dropped his hand from Ant’s shoulder.

“I do na advise moving him though. The laddie’s been through enough.”

“I wanted to take him back to New York.”

“Nor do I advise travel and a big city life for the lad. At least not for a while. Let him get his bearings, then we’ll see.”

Ant clenched his fist at the news, and then relaxed it.

“As for Miss Stanton,” the doctor continued. “It doesn’t seem as if she’s injured. So I won’t push to examine her.”

“She’s a stubborn woman. A little mule.”

The doctor laughed. “That she is. However, our Miss Stanton needs every bit of that stubbornness to be a good schoolteacher.”

“Then she must be an exceptional one,” Ant said wryly.