Rebellious Bride (28 page)

Sam shrugged. “Why should I? Things like that have been known to happen from time to time.”

Rolfe shook his head in disagreement. “Let’s examine this logically. Is it safe to assume this particular preacher followed the same routine every day?”

After a moment of thought Sam nodded his head. “I would assume so, since he has families to call on and services to conduct. A preacher in these parts can usually be found easily.”

“Then he would eat his supper at a certain time each day?”

“I’d say so.”

“So anyone in town would have known that at, let’s say, seven o’clock the preacher would be having his evening meal?”

Sam laughed and slapped his leg. “I know what you’re getting at. You think the shooting of the preacher was planned.”

“It’s possible.”

Sam grinned. “Not possible. The preacher always took his meals with different families in the town.”

“Who was he having supper with on that particular evening?”

“From what I heard it was one widow Miller.”

Rolfe nodded slowly, concentrating. “Did he have supper with this widow often?”

Sam’s grin faded. “I heard every Wednesday night. The preacher claimed he was helping her cope with grief in her time of loss.”

It was Rolfe’s turn to laugh. “Is it possible that the man who shot him was also helping the widow Miller cope with her loss?”

“Damn!” Sam said. “I never looked at it that way.”

“I have found if you rummage through all of the possibilities you usually uncover the truth.”

“Meaning you don’t believe that the shooting here today was accidental?”

Rolfe looked Sam straight in the eye. “Not one bit.”

“Any ideas as to who fired that shot or why?” Sam asked, feeling uneasy himself.

Rolfe stood, taking Sam’s glass to refill along with his own. “Perhaps someone objects to my presence here.”

“I can’t believe that,” Sam said, accepting the glass from Rolfe before he returned to his seat. “You’ve established many strong friendships, and with this marriage to Lil and the coming baby, you’ve really established a kinship with the townsfolk.”

Rolfe was glad to hear of his acceptance in Little, but it troubled him that a forced marriage had forged the final bond. He was about to ask Sam if Lillian had made any enemies over the years, but just then his wife rushed into the room, her bright smile contagious.

“Dad, have you heard about our excitement?” she asked, pecking his cheek with a kiss.

Sam prepared to stand so his daughter could sit, but Rolfe stood first.

Lil waved him back down. “Stay where you are. I’ll sit on the footstool.” She reached for it and felt Rolfe’s hands grasp her wrist.

He took the wooden stool from her hand. “You will sit in the chair, Lillian.”

Lil smiled, aware that her husband stubbornly intended to see that she complied. She had to do something about his penchant for dominance.

She playfully patted his cheek. “Yes, dear.” She sat in the chair and turned her attention back to her father. “So did you hear?”

Sam hid his grin. His amusement with her obedience would only rile her. “Rolfe and I were just discussing it.”

“Your father and I agree that it was an unfortunate accident,” Rolfe said, sending Sam a conspiratorial glance.

Sam nodded his head. “Yup, an unfortunate accident.”

“Good,” Lil said. “Now there’s no need to worry.”

Perhaps both men really did agree that there was no need for concern, but Lil, being her perceptive self, just smiled and decided to do some investigating of her own.

Sam was about to leave when Billy Johnson flew into the house passed a startled Jonathan.

“You better hurry, Sheriff,” Billy cried, winded from his run. “There’s been a shooting in town. You too, Lil. The doc says to hightail it. He needs your help.”

Sam rushed out.

Lil stood and looked to Rolfe. “This could be a very long night.”

Rolfe didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want her working over a bloody body while she was carrying his child. He wanted her home and safe where he could watch over her. He kept his objections to himself, though, having fully realized that his wife’s work was important to her, as was his support.

“You better wear comfortable shoes,” he said and held out his hand to her.

She hurried over to him, flung her arms around his neck, and planted a sensually tingling kiss on his lips. “You know something?” she said, licking the taste of him from her lips.

“What?” he asked, watching her tongue circle her lips lazily and thinking how he’d like to feel it in his mouth once again.

“I’ve decided to keep you.”

“Keep me?” he asked quizzically.

“As a husband,” she confirmed.

Jonathan interrupted with the announcement that the buggy was ready and waiting.

Lil rushed Rolfe out of the house, grabbing her blue cape from Jonathan as she hurried passed him.

They were well on their way to town when Rolfe asked, “Why have you decided to keep me?”

Lil smiled and patted his arm. “You’re more to my liking than I had first thought.”

Rolfe didn’t pursue her explanation. There wasn’t time, and besides, he felt a step closer to moving this marriage from its forced status to one of mutual compliance.

Doc’s office reeked with the smell of blood, sweat, and cigar smoke. Lil took a step back outside the door and breathed deeply, filling her lungs with clean air to prepare herself to face that wretched smell again.

“Lillian,” Rolfe said, his arm going around her and supporting her as she took deep breaths. “Perhaps this is too much for you.”

She protested with a weak shake of her head. “I’ll be fine. The baby objects to certain aspects of my work and delights in letting me know about it.”

Rolfe couldn’t help but tease. “Just like his father.”

“Exactly like his father,” Lil agreed with a laugh before her expression turned serious. “Will you stay here with me no matter how long it takes?” Her request sounded strange to her own ears. She couldn’t quite comprehend why she needed him there with her. She attributed it to her unstable emotions during pregnancy and decided not to fight the strange urge.

“No matter how long, Lillian, I’ll be here,” he assured her, realizing of late she frequently sought his presence.

Fortified with fresh air and Rolfe’s support, Lil once again entered Doc’s office. She ignored the obnoxious odor and walked straight to the examining room.

Rolfe followed, but halted abruptly at the door when he caught sight of the scene that greeted Lillian. A man lay on the examining table, his stomach split open. Doc worked over him, his arms covered with blood up to his elbows.

“Move your butt, girl, or we’ll lose him,” Doc yelled at her as she hurried out of her cape and into an apron.

Rolfe attempted to step into the room again, but found his feet unwilling. He remained in the doorway, averting his eyes as soon as Lillian threaded her needle.

“I got the bullet out,” Doc said, talking as he worked. “Don’t think it hit any vital organs or caused any irreparable damage. If we can get him closed up and keep the fever away, he might make it.”

“In other words you want me to stitch fast, clean him up good, and pray a lot,” Lil said, her needle already touching the patient’s stomach.

“Real fast, Lil. They’re bringing the other injured man over any minute.”

Lil’s hands flew with speed and accuracy. When she had tied the last stitch off, Doc helped her strip the man of his remaining clothes.

Rolfe moved to protest and thought better of it. The man was unconscious, possibly close to death, and Lil was a married woman now, intimately familiar with a man’s anatomy, thanks to him.

“Rolfe,” Doc called to him, “you’re going to have to help me move him. Open that door to your left and light the lamps in the other room.”

Relieved to have something to do, Rolfe followed Doc’s instructions. A single bed and a dresser occupied the adjacent room, and Rolfe pulled back the quilt on the bed in preparation for the patient.

Doc and Rolfe moved the man without much of a problem. Lil fussed over the patient, checking his stitches and making certain he rested comfortably before returning to the examining room.

Respect and concern for his wife washed over him as he watched her work amid the whirlwind of activity. She scrubbed the examining table down with lye soap and a stiff-bristle brush, then rinsed it with alcohol. She then turned her attention to the floor, dragging a heavy mop and pail filled with hot sudsy water into the room.

Rolfe stopped her dead in her tracks. “I’ll mop the floor. You rest for a few minutes before they bring over the other man.”

“I can—”

Doc cut her off. “Listen to your husband. You’re no good to me tired or sick.”

Standing on tiptoe she whispered in Rolfe’s ear, “You’ve never mopped a floor before.”

“I’ve seen it done often enough. I can manage,” he assured her and slopped the mop out onto the floor.

Lil sat down in a nearby chair and admired her husband’s mopping skills. For someone with no experience he was doing an excellent job. She absentmindedly rubbed her belly and concentrated on the mop. Her stomach still protested the sickening odors, but she had successfully controlled its rumbling. She worried over how long she had before her control completely drained away.

Hearing shouts and raised voices coming from the front room, Lil stood, a clean apron in place, her hands freshly scrubbed, ready to tend to the next man.

Her father was one of the men who helped carry the patient in and place him on the examining table. He sent Rolfe a concerned look when his daughter approached the injured man.

“Lord almighty, he’s been riddled,” Doc said in disgust.

“Christ, Sam, there’s not much of him left to save.”

“That’s why I sent the other fella over first,” Sam explained. “I figured he had a fighting chance.”

“Lil, get over here. We’ve got to see how many bullet holes he’s got in him,” Doc called out. “And bring the alcohol with you.”

Sam joined Rolfe by the door after sending the other men on their way. They both remained silent, watching Lil.

Hours crawled by as Doc and Lil worked on the unconscious man. Doc cursed and grumbled and snapped orders at Lil. Never once objecting to his brusque demeanor, she simply did as he directed.

Rolfe found it difficult to stand by while his wife worked herself into exhaustion. Every time she rubbed her belly or eased her shoulders back he wanted to grab her, fold her in his arms, and rush her home to the safety and comfort of their bed. But he quietly remained where he was, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Damn,” Doc said softly and shook his head. “We’ve lost him.”

Lil dropped the bloody cloth she was holding and rushed out the back door. Rolfe followed on her heels.

The cool night air was refreshing, though Lil took no note of it. She leaned over the post rail and retched. Rolfe tucked his arm beneath her breasts and supported her. When he was certain she was through, he helped her to sit on the bench next to the back door. He soaked his handkerchief in the barrel of rainwater by the door and squeezed it out before sitting beside her and gently wiping her face with the wet cloth.

Lil rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, relieved he was tending to her needs, glad he was sitting beside her, grateful to be held in the safety of his arms.

“No more, Lillian. Do you hear me? No more,” he insisted most adamantly, annoyed with himself for having allowed her to reach such a state of exhaustion.

“I agree with your husband,” Doc said, walking out of the office. “In your condition you have no business tending to serious injuries. You’re to cut back on your work and see to your own health and that of your baby. I was a fool to send for you. Take her home, Rolfe.”

“But who will help you look after—”

“That’s not your problem,” Doc snapped. “Your only concern right now should be for yourself and that baby. Now go home.”

Beneath Doc’s rough tone, Lil heard sincere concern. And besides, he was right. It was about time she started considering the baby. “Whatever you say. Doctor.”

Rolfe and Doc exchanged shocked glances.

Lil looked from one man to the other and laughed. “I may be stubborn, but I’m not stupid. Let’s go home, Rolfe.”

By the time she was ready to leave, guilt had settled in at leaving Doc with such a mess to clean up. He assured her he’d be fine and hustled her and Rolfe out to their waiting buggy.

“Take care,” Doc said. “And don’t let me see you in this office more than once a week.”

“You can count on that,” Rolfe said with a satisfied smile and waved as Doc returned to his patient.

Lil snuggled next to her husband. The late night air was cool, its scent rich with pine. The dark sky was dotted with hundreds of twinkling stars, promising a bright tomorrow. She could have ridden for hours on a glorious night like this. She was sorry the house was but a short distance away.

“Let’s have a picnic tomorrow,” she said, eager to enjoy her unexpected leisure time.

“I’d like that.” Rolfe directed the horses on the turn up to the house.

“I’ll help Jonathan pack a ton of food and we can spend the—’“

The sudden jolt of the wagon silenced Lil, and she looked to her right. Everything happened in seconds, leaving Lil and Rolfe no time to think, only to react. The buggy wheel broke off, the wagon tilted, and Lil screamed, sliding to the end of the seat, her hands grasping for anything solid to hold on to.

Rolfe’s reaction was instantaneous; he grabbed for her.

Lil watched with horror as the ground rushed up to meet her. She threw her hands up in front of her and screamed.

“You’re all right, Lillian. Wake up. You’re all right.”

Rolfe grabbed his wife’s hands and pulled them away from her face, then wrapped her in the safety of his arms. It had been three weeks since the buggy accident, but Lil’s dream about the frightening experience still occurred frequently. Doc Talbert had warned him that her highly charged emotional state stemmed from her pregnancy and precipitated many of her reactions. He recommended patience and time. Rolfe possessed an abundance of patience and didn’t doubt that she would fully recover.