Give My Love to Rose (15 page)

“
Go to town and get the
damn doc,” Marston growled as he stood and faced Langley. “Take the
buckskin out there. He’s already saddled and ready.”

“
Is she gonna be okay,
Marston?”

Marston pointed toward the door. “Go
kid.”

Even after Langley had left the cabin,
Marston didn’t let his gaze return to Rose. He didn’t like the way
the sight of her made him feel. Helplessness was not something
Marston was good at. Tenderness and caring were both things that
Marston had no experience with. Now that he feeling all three
things at once, he was overwhelmed.

Marston had to forget that this was Rose. He
had to forget that this was the angel woman who had wanted him
around despite the evil inside of him. He had to forget just how
badly he would break if she died. He had to tell himself she was
just another person—that’s the only way he’d be able to help
her.

The first step was to lower her fever.
Marston went to the kitchen and turned on the faucet, but no water
came—the pipes were frozen. Marston slammed his hand on the counter
and then scolded himself. He wasn’t usually the type to get so
upset over a little thing like frozen pipes.

Caring about someone else was stressful. It
was no wonder he’d never bothered with doing so before. Marston
took a deep breath to steady his nerves before grabbing a pot. He
filled it from the well outside and placed it on the cook stove to
warm a bit.

He made his way back into Rose’s bedroom and
gazed down at her. She moaned and shifted restlessly beneath her
covers. Looking at her this way proved to be too much and Marston
found himself all but running back out of the room.

With shaking hands, Marston gathered a few
washrags from the washroom and then stepped back into the kitchen.
With nothing else to do as he waited for his water to heat, Marston
leaned against the wall and took stock of his bleeding arm.

He slid out of his duster coat and growled
when the tiny graze Langley had gouged into him burned like
fire.

Tapping his fingers on his legs and pacing
back and forth, Marston realized that he had no patience for
waiting. The wind whistled outside and Marston felt the cold air
come through the drafty wall. That was something he’d have to
remedy.

Marston stoked up the fire in the fireplace
and noted that the wood box was nearly empty. He’d have to fill it
as well….

Finding that he was running out of things to
occupy his racing mind, Marston grabbed the water, which was still
cool but no longer ice cold and he carried the pot and the washrags
into the bedroom.

Soaking a rag, Marston wrung out the excess
water and sat gently on the side of the bed. He braced one arm on
the opposite side of Rose’s still form and softly began to smooth
the washrag over her heated brow.

He had no idea how long he simply sat there.
He ran that wash rag along her brow, over her soft cheeks and down
her graceful neck. He silently willed her to wake up but other than
her eyelids fluttering and her labored breaths, there was no other
sign of life coming from her.

“
Rose?” Marston whispered,
hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. “Rose, you need to
wake up now. Your boy is worried about you.”

Marston sat the washrag on the bedside table
and laid his hand over her cheek. His skin was dark against hers
and the softness of her skin caused the roughness of his own to
stand out in sharp contrast.

He ran his calloused thumb over her full
bottom lip and stooped lower to place a tender kiss to her brow,
pouring strength into her and hoping against hope she would
awaken.

“
Marston…?” she
moaned.

Marston sat bolt upright and stared down at
her. Her blue eyes fluttered open, but they were bright with fever
and not entirely focused. “Hi Rose,” he greeted as he teased her
damp red curls.

She offered a weak smile. “You’re here.”

“
Yeah, I’m here,” he
whispered. If the men he’d once run with could see and hear him
now, they wouldn’t recognize him as Marston caressed Rose’s cheek
and did nothing to hide the emotions shining in his
eyes.

“
You’re so handsome,” she
admitted sleepily, raising her hand and laying it on his bearded
cheek. He knew it was more than likely her fever talking, but he’d
still gladly accept the compliment.

“
Thank you,
ma’am.”

“
Do you still think I’m
pretty?”

Marston frowned. He couldn’t remember ever
telling her that she was pretty. She was. She was downright
beautiful and so Marston told her so.

A bright smile lit her face and then she
coughed and cried out as she clutched her chest. “I’m sick…” she
whispered.

“
I know.” Marston
swallowed hard and helped her get comfortable once again. “You’re
real sick.”

Another wracking cough shook her fevered
body and Marston once again grabbed that rag and began to smooth it
over her brow. “Shh…” he urged as she whimpered. “Rest, Rose. The
doctor will be here soon.”

“
I’m sick…” she mumbled
again, her eyelids slowly slipping closed.

“
I know.”

“
You’re back.”

“
Uh-uh,” Marston agreed as
he ran the rag over the tiny mole above her collarbone.

“
God does answer prayers,”
Rose announced before slipping back into
unconsciousness.

Marston’s hand still as he stared down at
the woman in that bed. She had prayed he’d come back? After the way
he had abandoned her, she had still wanted him around? Could
Marston be the man that this woman clearly thought he could?

Marston was still sitting there lost in
thoughts when Langley returned with the doctor. When Doctor
Brinkley came into the room, Marston quickly stood and distanced
himself from the bed. He slipped his mask of indifference back on
his face and greeted the older man.

“
Langley told me she’s had
a terrible cough for nearly a month and now she is feverish and
won’t wake up,” the doctor stated. “Does that cover it?”

Marston shrugged. “I just arrived so I
couldn’t say how long it’s been going on. If the boy says it’s been
a month then I guess it has. She came to for a minute or so while
Langley was gone fetching you but then she went right back
out.”

Doctor Brinkley nodded and stepped toward
the bed. “You two wait outside. I’ll see what I can do for
her.”

Marston and Langley were quick to obey and
while Langley locked himself up in his room, Marston went out onto
the porch. He should probably try to comfort the boy since it was
clear he was scared but, hell, what could Marston say? He was
damned scared himself.

Marston settled himself down in the rocking
chair and pulled a rolled cigarette and pack of matches from his
pocket. He took several long slow draws in an attempt to settle his
nerves.

Damn but all these feelings were new! He had
never, not once in his life, felt this kind of worry for another
person. If something happened to that woman…

If something happened to Rose than Marston
would take Langley under his wing and ensure the boy was taken care
of. After leaving her alone to fend for herself the last few months
it was the least Marston could do.

“
God?” he spoke quietly.
“It’s me again—that guy You don’t much care for who doesn’t much
care for You back. You know I never ask You for anything and You’ve
damn sure never seen fit to give me anything, but I’m telling You
now to lay off that woman in there. That boy needs his mother and
she’s a damn good soul. You best let her get better.”

Marston nearly swallowed his own tongue when
a mourning dove flew across the yard and landed on the porch rail
only a few feet from where Marston was sitting.

The bird and Marston stared hard at one
another for several long moments and then the bird flew away once
again. Marston took another draw off his cigarette and sighed. He
was going to take that as a sign that Rose would be fine.

Desperation?

Probably.

But at this point desperation was all he
had.

***

“
She should be fine,”
Doctor Brinkley stated as he and Langley joined Marston on the
porch a short time later.

Marston stood quickly and nodded. “What’s
wrong…” he stopped and cleared his throat when he realized how
thick his voice sounded. “What’s wrong with her?”

“
Lung infection and she
let it get out of hand. If she had come to me sooner, I could have
stopped it before it got this bad. Do you have any idea why she
didn’t?”

Both Langley and Marston shook their heads.
“No, but I intend to find out just as soon as she wakes up,”
Marston assured the doctor.

Doctor Brinkley nodded and wrapped his wool
coat tighter around himself. “I left her some medicine beside the
bed. Something for fever and something for the cough. If her fever
hasn’t broken by morning come and fetch me. If I don’t hear from
you then I’ll ride back out in three days to see how she’s
faring.”

“
What do I owe you?”
Marston asked.

Doctor Brinkley sighed. “I know things are
hard for Rose…”

Marston shook his head. “Don’t worry about
that,” he growled. “What do I owe you?”

“
Let’s just say a dollar
and leave it at that.”

Marston stepped off the porch and rummaged
in the saddlebags still laying over Buck. He pulled out a dollar
and laid it in the doctor’s gloved hand. “Thank you, doctor,”
Marston said, finding that he nearly choked on the unfamiliar
words.

The doctor tipped his head. “You’re welcome.
Now, you and Langley see to it that she rests. She needs rest and
lots of it. It could be weeks before she feels as if she’s back to
her old self.”

Marston nodded. “Don’t worry, doc. I’m not
going anywhere.”

Doctor Brinkley nodded. “Alright then. I’ll
be going. Maybe soon this cold snap will break and we’ll all have a
bit of relief.”

Marston nodded and he and Langley watched
the doctor climb onto his cart and ride away. “So mama is going to
be okay then?” Langley asked once they were alone.

“
That’s what the doc
said,” Marston replied. “Now let’s get these horses put away and
then cut up some wood. You’re running low.”

“
Sounds good to me,”
Langley agreed. “Golly gee, Marston, it sure is good to have you
back. I’ve missed you and so has mama. She never said so out loud,
but I could tell. Why did you stay gone so long? Oh well, I guess
it doesn’t matter now that you’re back. Are you gonna stay around
this time”

Marston blew out a long breath as he grabbed
Buck’s reins. “If your mama will let me.”

“
Good! She’ll let you, I’m
sure of it. I’m sorry I shot your arm. Does it hurt? Well, of
course it hurts. What kind of question was that? A pretty dumb one,
I reckon. It sure is good to have you back here though.”

Marston fought back a grin and forced out a
grumble in response to the boy’s rambling—he had an image to uphold
after all. But in all honesty, it felt damn good to be back.

Chapter Fourteen

Rose groaned as she clicked her tongue
against the roof of her dry mouth. Her body felt sore and sluggish,
but the burning in her lungs seemed to have eased. She kept her
eyes closed as a smile curved her lips.

Rose had had wonderful dreams.

She had dreamt of Marston. His strong arms
had been holding her close as his deep voice whispered soothingly
into her ear. His big hands had caressed her face and his breath
had teased her hair. Rose had even dreamed that she had woken up
and spoke to him once and he’d been warm and tender.

She frowned.

The dreams hadn’t been wonderful, they’d
been mean. Marston was gone.

Pushing thoughts of him away, Rose took
stock of herself. She truly did feel a little better. She wondered
how long she’d been lying in this bed. Her body was so weak, Rose
didn’t know if she would even have the strength to get up.

But she had to get up.

She had to cook Langley some breakfast and
sew the pants for Old Man Tippler. The floors needed scrubbing and
she had to chop more firewood.

Rose shifted on the bed and opened her eyes.
Her mouth dropped open and she would have screamed if she could
have managed a sound.

Sprawled in a chair beside the bed was
Marston. His long, thick legs were stretched out in front of him
and his hands were dragging the floor on either side of the chair.
His bearded chin was resting on his chest and quiet snores filled
the room.

There was blood on his arm, his clothes were
dirty, torn and stained and he looked all around filthy as his
brown hair lay over his brow and covered his ears.

Why was Marston here? And why had he snuck
into her bedroom only to fall asleep in the chair?

Rose did her best to force her aching
muscles to listen as she shifted upon the mattress. At the faint
rustling of the sheets, Marston’s golden eyes shot open and he was
crouched beside her bed in an instant.

“
Damn woman, but if you
ain’t a sight for sore eyes I don’t know what is,” he whispered.
“It sure is good to see those blue eyes again. I didn’t think you’d
ever wake up.”

Rose frowned. Marston sounded different. He
didn’t sound rough or cold or charming and slick. He sounded tender
and caring just as he had in her dreams. He grabbed a glass of
water and held it Rose’s lips. She took several small sips and he
pulled the glass away.

“
Why are you here?” Rose
asked, glancing toward the window and realizing it was dark… the
lantern beside the bed illuminated the shadows in her room. Why was
it dark? It should be morning!