Emily's Vow (25 page)

Frank grimaced at the gasp followed by smattered clapping the man's declaration elicited.

Apparently pleased with the reaction, the colonel continued. "I've ordered an increased diligence from my officers to ensure our enemies are not to be found within the town limits as long as British troops occupy it. The security of this town is my highest priority. That is all." The colonel descended the steps, surrounded by several of his officers.

Realizing he'd have to step up his efforts to reclaim his property, Frank peered at Graham.

"Can you do something for me?"

A hard glint shone in the man's eyes as he looked at Frank. "Anything you need, sir, I'm your man."

Frank stepped closer. "Here's what I want you to do."

* * *

Hours later Graham entered McCrady's, sidling between the groups of men talking and drinking. A low cloud of pipe smoke swirled lazily in the air. His uniform showed signs of a tussle. Grimly Frank ordered him an ale.

"You were right."

"You managed entry?" Frank held his breath, anxious for news as to the status of his former home.

"Aye, and so far it looks in fair shape." The man hesitated, then resumed. "Mostly, that is."

Coldness settled on Frank's shoulders as he sipped his drink. "Tell me."

A quick nod and a gulp preceded the man's tale. "The main floor parlor is their headquarters, you know. They've made some... changes to it."

Frank gripped the blue bottle. Jedediah had invested a great deal of time and money into perfecting the cedar inlaid floor and massive stone fireplace. If they destroyed his brother's house, he'd seek his own kind of revenge. "Go on."

"The floor's been stripped out and replaced with pine. I think I seen the red wood used for the Major's travel chest. Least, the chest were made from thin strips of wood, like the flooring."

"The bastard... What else?"

"Sorry for it, sir, but he's taken down the heavy drapes and gotten rid of them. I couldn't discover where they went. My gut says they're aboard one of them ships at anchor." He took a long draught of his ale.

An outburst drew their attention toward the back of the room. Two sailors proceeded to settle their disagreement with fists. Grunts and thuds filled the crowded room, competing with the laughter and cheers urging them on. Shaking his head, Frank turned back to Graham.

"They'll pay for that in the morning, I dare say. But, what of the furnishings? The table Jedediah built?"

"Nowhere I saw. Probably used for firewood, knowing the man."

Frank slammed the bottle onto the bar, breaking it into five large pieces, ale spilling across the scarred surface. "Bloody hell!"

The barkeeper appeared suddenly and discarded the pieces, mopping up the mess with a rag. "Get ya another?"

Frank shook his head, then focused on Graham as the barkeeper stumped away. "I imagine he's stripped anything of value from the place as well?"

"At least it is still standing. The house can be repaired after they evacuate."

Frank hunched his shoulders as he shook his head. "It's not over yet, friend. The bastards are capable of anything. They're desperate enough to wreak havoc on everything left behind. We've seen that before."

"Aye, but it will be over soon if the treaty is signed as expected."

"Keep your eyes open, and don't let your guard down." Frank tossed coins on the bar. "Tomorrow I'll put the wheels in motion to get my house back before the bastard destroys it."

Chapter 12

Emily woke to snuffling and whimpering. Moon glow illuminated the cradle by her bed and its tiny occupant, arms flailing and head thrashing. "Tommy!"

She pushed back the quilt and rushed to his side. Her fingertips encountered searing heat when she touched his forehead. Lifting the baby, she hugged him close and hurried down the hall to her father's room. Bursting inside, relief washed over her when she saw him waking before she said a word.

"Father, Tommy still has a fever." Panting from her run, she paused to catch her breath. "Please. We need the doctor."

"Now, my dear," he said, putting his feet on the floor, "calm down and let me see what we have here before we wake the poor man from his rest." He slipped on his dressing robe over his night shirt, tying the belt in one fluid motion. He looked at the boy, felt his head, a frown lodging between his eyes. "Should have done this earlier, but you convinced me not to worry. The old ways are never as good as a trained doctor, I always say."

Going out to the hall, he hollered for Solomon and sent him to fetch the doctor. He turned back to confront his daughter. "Now we wait."

Wait? She shook her head. "We need to cool this fever or he'll die. A wet cloth may help." Emily hurried with Tommy out of the room and downstairs to the dining room and its ready pitcher of water.

"Likely not." Her father trailed after her.

"I have to do something in the meantime." She sponged cool water onto the child quietly fretting in her lap. "I hope Solomon hurries."

"He's fast and trustworthy. He won't come back without the doctor."

Twenty anxious minutes later Emily heard the front door open and voices in the hall.

"Where's the child?" Doctor Cunningham strode into the room, a black leather bag in hand, a young man silently following him. A frown marred Dr. Cunningham's usually pleasant features. He caught Emily's eye and held it. "Well? I haven't all night."

She stared at the men, uncertainty sweeping through her. Upcountry Cunninghams were notoriously loyalist, especially the family led by William "Bloody Bill" Cunningham, who attacked a group of patriots at Clouds Creek last November. She didn't know if the men before her sided with the loyalists as well. If they could help Tommy, what difference did it make? Her grip on the baby tightened as she met his gaze. "I'm sorry for disturbing your rest, but thank you for coming so quickly, Doctor."

"What have we here? A snake bit him, I'm told." He took the silent baby from Emily's arms and turned to the fair-haired man standing behind him. "This is my son, Dr. Trenton Cunningham. He has more experience with venomous injuries than I do, so I asked him to accompany me."

"Thanks again for coming." Emily appraised the younger man. His broad forehead and generous mouth showed his displeasure in tense lines even as the skin around his startlingly blue eyes displayed small lines radiating from the outside corners. She imagined his smile normally conveyed warmth and caring. "I understand it's inconvenient."

"Call me Trent. You should have sent for us as soon as this happened." Trent's eyes were dark and concerned. "The delay may cost this child his life."

He turned his attention immediately to the boy, listless, lying in the older doctor's arms. The elder's deference to the younger man showed his pride and trust in his son's abilities. The lack of motion and even sound from her nephew propelled a wave of fear and regret crashing through her. She couldn't determine whether he even breathed. Trent's frown deepened, but he ignored her. What had she done?

As much as she resented Tommy living when her sister had died, she could not bear to lose him now. His smile and babbling worked into her heart until life without him seemed unimaginable. As Samantha had said, he embodied the only living piece of Elizabeth left.

Frank.
He should be summoned. She caught Jasmine's eye where she stood in the door, and then walked to her.

"Jasmine, go wake Captain Frank. He'll want to be here, I'm sure." She'd make sure to keep him informed whether he responded or not. She wouldn't give him any reason to mistrust her again.

"Yes, miss." Jasmine scooted out the door, and her slippered feet pounded up the steps.

Emily watched the young doctor inspect the wound and then raise his worried gaze to her.

"I need a tub of cold water." Trent pinned her with accusing blue eyes, and she swallowed the protest forming in her throat.

Hurrying past the speechless Mary, she rushed upstairs and retrieved the small tub from the nursery, lugging it back into the gathering room. She poured cool water from the urn into the tub, and Trent placed the baby in it, reaching automatically for a cloth to sponge him.

"He'll warm this up in no time as hot as he is."

"I'll fetch more." She hurried to the door. As Emily approached the uncertain girl, she said, "Mary, we'll need towels to wrap him in."

She grasped the back of a chair to support her shaking legs. She must stay strong for Tommy. The wisp of a girl nodded once before running from the room soundlessly. With a sigh, Emily followed her trail toward the open door.

Booted footsteps thudded on the floor boards, and Frank suddenly filled the door, two vertical frown lines between his eyes. His presence calmed her ragged emotions, her overwhelming fears for her nephew. Her eyes smarted, but she forced the tears back as she crossed the short distance to take Frank's hand in hers.

When he didn't look at her, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

He continued to stare over her head at the scene unfolding behind her for a moment; then she felt the weight of his look. "What have you to be sorry for?"

"I should have sent for the doctor earlier after all. I didn't think—"

"We all trusted Samantha." Frank's deep voice pulsed with anger as he interrupted her. His scowl deepened, and he raked a hand through his hair, a sure indicator of his distress. "My brother's son may die because of a miscalculation."

"But Samantha assured me he'd be fine." Her voice failed her. Had her trust in Samantha's abilities killed Tommy? She glanced at the small body in the tub. Dr. Trent gently bathed him in the tepid water, his face serious. She looked back at Frank. He had every right to never forgive her for endangering his nephew, his charge. How had they gotten to this place of enmity and mistrust? Insistent tears finally won the battle and coursed down her cheeks unheeded.

"At least a doctor is trained based on careful observation and study and not some old wives' tales. She's apparently following in her mother's footsteps. Let me through." He brushed past her, his worry emanating from him as he moved her away from him.

"What do you mean?" Emily swiped at the tears and grimaced as the little boy moaned. "Frank?"

He waved a hand to silence her as he stopped by the young doctor. "How is he?"

Emily leaned against the door frame, unable to leave without hearing the verdict.

"Do you mean, will he live?" Trent continued sponging the little boy as he glanced at Frank, then Emily. "It's hard to say. I will do everything I can, but it's been so long since the bite, the venom has spread throughout his body. If you'd called sooner—" Tommy writhed in his arms and moaned softly when Trent turned him over. "Shh, little one. We must balance your humors by purging you to reduce your fever. You're safe with me."

"What do you need, son?" the elder doctor asked.

"An emetic should serve the purpose," Trent said.

Emily's tears fell more rapidly as the men hovered over Tommy. Safe. With them, but not with her. Elizabeth should not have left her precious one in such clumsy hands. Emily had let her down as she feared she would. Because of Emily's lack of knowledge, her nephew would die. She hiccupped as the extent of her failings seared through her. Clasping a hand to her mouth, she tried to stifle the next hiccup. No one paid her any mind. No one wanted her. They didn't need her except for sewing and overseeing the chores. Nothing more. Unable to bear being in the same room, she grabbed her skirt in one hand, whirled in the doorway, and fled.

Racing into the backyard, she hurried to the winding garden path. Her breaths came quick and shallow, tears in her eyes. She must calm down. She could do no good for anyone in such a state. Her rapid steps carried her through the stark flower beds, dry and brittle stems lying dormant under the pine needles and fallen leaves. She hugged herself against the chill air and the growing coldness within. The barren scene echoed her feelings. She paced the narrow path, wiping the tears from her cheeks as quickly as they fell. Surely she could do something to help. Anything.

Her feet stumbled to a halt. Oh no! She'd forgotten. Selfish, that's what she was. Through and through thinking only of her own wants and needs and feelings. No more.