Candace McCarthy (6 page)

“Amelia!” The harsh whisper accompanied by a gentle shake of her shoulder jolted Amelia awake in the middle of the night.

She blinked in the darkness and saw her father silhouetted against the soft light filtering in from the next room. “Father, what’s wrong?”

“Patient,” he said, and turned away.

Without another word, Amelia sprang from her bed and pulled a dressing gown over her nightwear. She was familiar with such a summons; she’d helped her father often enough with his medical practice back in Baltimore. Her heart gave a lurch as she hurried to the front room. She had immediate thoughts of Daniel Trahern. Was he sick or injured? It had been over a week since she’d seen him, and although he was married, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind.

At the door to the infirmary, she was pulled up short at the sight of her father’s patient. It was an Indian brave, looking so much different than the other Indians she’d met.
A different tribe,
she guessed. She became aware there were others in the room. She checked her surroundings and was taken aback by the number of Indians who had come with the patient. She did a quick mental count. There were eight of them, all watching her father from various positions about the room.

She drew a sharp breath and entered the infirmary. Several pairs of dark eyes pinned her as she reached her father’s side. Her gaze fell on the patient, and she had to conceal her reaction of surprise. The brave, merely a boy, had suffered a gunshot wound. The young Indian held himself erect, trying hard not to flinch or make a sound, as John Dempsey examined and probed the wound with his fingers. She felt instant sympathy for him.

Without a word from her father, Amelia left his side to gather the supplies and instruments he would need to remove the bullet and properly tend the wound. First order of business was to clean the injury and the surrounding area. She handed her father a cloth and the solution he’d need. He accepted the items with a nod of thanks, and with a frown of concentration on his face, got to the task at hand.

While her father was thus engaged, Amelia set up his instruments—a lancet, a probe, and the new pair of forceps—where John Dempsey could reach them. As she worked, she was aware that the Indians watched her. Tense, she refused to meet any of their gazes. She kept her eyes on her work, her father, and their young patient.

Her father caught and held her glance. Amelia nodded at the silent message and went to prepare a dose of laudanum for the boy’s pain. She poured the proper amount into a glass tumbler and brought it to the patient to drink. As she extended the glass toward the boy, a hand shot out to clamp about her wrist.

Amelia gasped and almost dropped the glass. Her gaze shot to the Indian who’d grabbed her, an older warrior with red-and-black stripes painted across his chest and forehead, and tattoos circling his wrists and upper arms.

The angry brave muttered something in his own language.
Petrified, Amelia looked at him, then at her father. “Father—”

“It’s all right,” he said in English, as if it would do any good when the Indian didn’t understand. “Taking out the bullet is going to hurt. We just want to ease the boy’s pain.”

A second Indian murmured something to the one who held Amelia’s arm. The brave released Amelia, and it was all Amelia could do not to drop the glass. He stared at Amelia hard as he moved back against the wall to the position he’d been in before he’d rushed forward.

“He did not mean to frighten you, doctor’s daughter,” the second Indian said, causing Amelia to start. “Runs-with-the-Wind feared what was in the cup. I explained to him that it was something to make Little Cloud feel less pain.”

“You speak English,” she said.

He nodded. “So, too, do Morning Eagle and Walks-with-Big-Stick.” He gestured toward two of his friends, both behind her.

She nodded. “Thank you.”

The Indian smiled. “Little Cloud is Runs-with-the-Wind’s son. He is concerned for him.”

Amelia murmured that she understood. While curiosity prompted her to ask more questions, she kept silent instead, feeling that it would be somewhat inappropriate to pry into the Indians’ affairs.

She waited until her father was done deciding the best way to extract the bullet, then she again extended the glass toward Little Cloud. He reached for it with his one free hand, raised it to his lips, and made a face as he swallowed it. He handed the glass back to her. She looked, and there was a little bit of the contents left in the glass.

“Drink all of it,” she said. Her gaze went to the Indian
who spoke English. “Make him understand that if he doesn’t drink enough of it, it will not help him with the pain.”

The older Indian spoke rapidly to the boy. The boy answered, and the man answered. The boy hesitated, but then he drank the remainder. He gasped when he was done, and his eyes watered.

Amelia smiled as she took back the glass.

“More, Amelia,” her father said.

She froze. “But, Father, he’s just a child.”

John Dempsey seemed to consider that. “All right. We’ll wait a few minutes to see how the medicine affects him.”

Amelia nodded, relieved.

When the boy closed his eyes and started to doze despite the pain he must have been feeling in his shoulder, the doctor proclaimed the patient ready for the operation.

It had always bothered Amelia seeing people suffer, but she’d been able to do her job, because she knew they were trying to help them to heal. But on this occasion Amelia had to admit that she’d never felt a patient’s pain as much as she did with this young Indian. He didn’t cry out or whimper. Rather it was his courage and attempt to hide the pain he felt that garnered her sympathy and respect.

All the while her father was digging into the child’s shoulder for the bullet, Amelia was conscious of the other Indians in the room, especially the boy’s father, Runs-with-the-Wind. She tried not to think what the Indians might do to them if the boy became ill or died under her father’s care. She offered up several silent prayers asking for Little Cloud’s quick recovery.

Once while the doctor poured whiskey into the wound in an attempt to clean it, she’d met Run-with-the-Wind’s gaze and felt a chill shiver along her spine as he stared
back at her without emotion. When she transferred her gaze to the Indian who helped her earlier, she found the same stoic expression unbroken by a smile.

Amelia felt a pooling of relief when John Dempsey finally lifted the bullet with his forceps. He examined the bullet, then set it in a glass dish. After her father had stitched the boy’s wound closed, Amelia was able to relax, as she felt some of the tension leave the room.

With a silent nod, the doctor instructed his daughter to put a plaster on the boy’s shoulder. Then he addressed one of the English-speaking braves. “The boy needs to sleep,” he said. “He shouldn’t be moved.”

“We cannot stay,” the man replied. “We must move him.”

John nodded, as if he understood. “Then you must move him carefully and find a safe place for him to recover. He is young and should mend well, as long as he doesn’t take infection.”

The Indian translated, and the father answered.

“We will find a safe place for him to heal,” the man said.

“Good,” the doctor responded. He gazed down at the bullet on the stand next to the examining table. “How did it happen?” He raised his gaze to the friend.

“While he slept, the boy was shot by a white soldier.”

Amelia gasped, having overheard. Her gaze was full of warmth and sympathy as she studied Little Cloud.

The friend, noting Amelia’s reaction, smiled at her. “You think this wrong. Perhaps only a savage would shoot a child while he was sleeping.”

“Only an evil man would hurt an innocent child,” she responded softly, drawing a respectful nod from the Indian.

The Indians left shortly afterward, their needs making
it imperative they leave before dawn. John and Amelia Dempsey looked at each other. They should have been exhausted, but neither one felt tired. With a soft smile, Amelia embraced her father, then started to clean the surgery. With a thoughtful expression on his face, her father quietly began to help.

“Father, who are they?” she asked, remembering her first impression that these Indians were not Ojibwa. “Why wouldn’t they stay?”

John Dempsey paused in the act of putting away the unused bandages. “Sioux,” he said.

Amelia frowned. “Sioux? Aren’t they—”

“Yes,” her father said, interrupting her. “The enemy of the Ojibwa, and they have ventured into Ojibwa territory.”

Suddenly, Amelia understood why the Indians had departed quickly and why, while at the infirmary, they’d been totally on their guard.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Amelia … how she looked, what she’d said about Susie, how much he’d missed sparring with her. As one week then two passed since he’d last seen her at the post, Daniel wondered if something was wrong. He’d been upset at their last meeting, but from his brief experience with her, he’d learned that it wasn’t like her to avoid a challenge.

He’d given a lot of thought to her words about Susie and had come to the conclusion that Amelia was right. This was no place for a little girl. But he wasn’t about to send Susie away, and it wasn’t the wildness of this place that was bad for Susie. It was the lack of a woman’s influence in her life. Susie needed someone to teach her proper manners; although he tried his best, he didn’t know all a lady needed to know. He’d never imagined such a
thing could be important out here in this vast wilderness of the great lake. He hadn’t thought ahead to Susie’s future, where her life might take her, how ill prepared she’d be for a more civilized place should fate lead her there.

As he viewed his beloved little girl through Amelia’s eyes, Daniel had to admit that he’d failed in doing all that he should have for Susie. He planned to rectify the matter, and he hoped Amelia would help him. He was going to ask Amelia to educate Susie in the ways of being a little lady.

With Susie safely with Jack for the morning, Daniel headed toward the mission to speak with Amelia. Would she help him or be angry that he’d dared to come? He didn’t know how she’d react, but there was only one way to find out—and that was to ask her.

He arrived at the infirmary, expecting to find her inside, but spied her coming out of the building across the yard, accompanied by a young man. Daniel’s narrowed gaze failed to recognize her caller. He searched his memory but couldn’t recall a name.

Was that why she’d stayed close to the mission? To spend time with this young man?

Daniel felt a burning in his gut. Surely, he couldn’t be jealous. It didn’t make sense, but he could find no other name for this feeling.

He heard her laugh at something the man said, felt the burning intensify, and Daniel turned away, unable to watch, afraid of what he might do or say if he confronted her.

His intentions forgotten, Daniel left the mission before Amelia could see him. His feelings troubled him, and he needed time to think about them.

He didn’t get too far from the mission when he heard a horrific scream. Heart racing, fear clutching his breast, Daniel ran back.

As he broke, running, from the woods, Daniel saw that the mission was being attacked.
Sioux!
he thought. He jerked a knife free from the sheath tucked into his legging string. The scene was terrifying. Men, women, and children ran screaming from their assailants. He watched with horror as a brave chased down a sobbing woman and sank a tomahawk into her back. He heard her death shriek as she fell dying in the middle of the yard.

A child’s ear-piercing cry of terror captured his attention. He turned and spied a little boy as he was being swept away by a Sioux warrior. Daniel rushed forward to help the child, but it was too late. The warrior and his captive had disappeared from sight.

His blood humming with fear, Daniel searched for Amelia, but couldn’t find her about the yard. He saw a brave struggling to retain his grip on a young man. Daniel hurried to help the missionary. Approaching the Sioux warrior from behind, he plunged his knife into the Indian’s side. The warrior cried out and released his captive to clutch the area of his injury. The young white man flashed Daniel a look of gratitude before he escaped into the church.

Daniel continued to search for Amelia, his heart thundering in his chest, his body tense when he couldn’t find her. The victims’ cries for help from all directions within
the settlement made it difficult to decide whom to help next.

And then he saw her at the door to the infirmary building, fighting off a Sioux brave as he dragged her from the building. Amelia kicked out at the man with her foot, then cried out as the Indian retaliated with a heavy-handed cuff across her face. She stumbled, looking dazed, but then her vision cleared as the warrior grabbed her. She kicked and swung her arms in a valiant attempt at escape.

Daniel bellowed with outrage and raced toward the struggling pair, his knife raised for attack. “Amelia!”

She saw him. “Daniel! Help me!” Her gaze was wild with fear. The Indian whooped triumphantly as he caught hold of both of Amelia’s arms. The savage twisted them behind her back, making her cry out with pain.

Daniel slipped his knife into its sheath, and, with a wild shriek of his own, went after the Sioux warrior. He grabbed the savage with one arm, locking him in a choke hold. The brave released Amelia to pry away Daniel’s arm. The two men struggled. The Indian broke free. Daniel withdrew his knife. He and the warrior crouched defensively and began to circle each other with their weapons raised to defend.

With her heart in her throat, Amelia studied the combatants, saw the way their knives glinted in the sunlight. She feared for Daniel’s safety; the Indian wore the look of someone with the intent to kill.

Then, she caught sight of Daniel’s savage expression, realized that the brave had met his match. Daniel was not just any unskilled white man.

She watched the two men with mounting horror as knife blades arched in the air and slashed, often missing their target, but a few times nicking flesh and skin. All
about them came the bloodcurdling cries of the Indians and the terrified shrieks of their helpless victims.

The warrior bent low and thrust his knife toward Daniel’s stomach. In a sudden defensive move, Daniel spun, then returned to deflect the attack with a direct hit to the warrior’s arm. The Indian lunged a second time, causing Daniel to trip. Amelia held her breath as Daniel quickly rolled backward and sprang to his feet again, with knife ready to defend.

Amelia’s gaze went beyond the two men toward the churchyard as she searched frantically for a glimpse of her missing father.

“Go back inside, lock the door,” Daniel ordered, as he and the Indian continued to dance about each other.

“No, I won’t leave you!” she cried.

“Now!” he growled as the Indian’s knife grazed his arm.

Amelia hurried inside the infirmary, locked the door, and rushed back to her father’s room to look for his flintlock pistol. She found it in his bed stand, grabbed it from the drawer, and spent precious seconds trying to load it. When she had loaded both barrels, she ran back to the door, unlocked it, and slipped back outside again. The first Indian had fallen, but Daniel was fighting another. Holding the long-barreled gun awkwardly, she found the trigger, then aimed toward the sky, off toward one side, and discharged a shot. The loud crack made by the gun startled both men, who drew instantly apart.

Amelia aimed the barrel at the Indian. “Let him go or I’ll shoot!”

“He doesn’t understand English,” Daniel said.

“That’s why I fired a shot.”

The Indian narrowed his gaze, looked at Daniel and the smoking gun in Amelia’s hands, then fled.

After he’d gone, Amelia lowered the gun with shaking hands. Daniel came to her quickly and eased the weapon out of her grip. “You did fine, Amelia,” he said softly. “But what would you have done if he hadn’t run when you’ve already discharged your shot.”

“The gun fires two shots. I had one left to blast him with,” she said.

Reaction set in, and she began to shake. She looked stunned. Concerned, he slipped his arm around her and pulled her to his side.

“Come on,” he urged gently. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Amelia shook her head. “My father—”

“He wasn’t inside?”

“No,” she replied. “I don’t know where he is!”

“Amelia,” he said, “we’ll find your father, but right now we have to get out of here. If we’re killed or captured, we won’t be able to help him.”

She blinked up at him with trusting eyes. “The missionaries,” she whispered with a dawning look of horror. Her attention caught by a fallen, dead woman several yards away, she shuddered.

“There is nothing we can do for her or any of them now,” he said. “Come. Later, I’ll see that they receive a decent burial.”

With a quick check of their surroundings, Daniel hurried Amelia away from the mission and the carnage.

Amelia didn’t say a word, but every so often Daniel heard a soft sob or a whimper.

She halted suddenly. “Miriam!” she burst out.

Daniel frowned. “When was the last time you saw her?”

Tears filled Amelia’s eyes. “In the yard,” she whispered. “She was running from a savage.”

He felt a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. “We have to believe that they didn’t hurt her, that she’s alive and a captive.” He didn’t want to tell her what the Sioux might do to one of their prisoners. He didn’t really know, but could imagine.

“Oh, God,” she breathed with closed eyes. “May the Lord have mercy on them both.”

He took her away from the scene, to his house near the forge. She didn’t say much during the journey. Daniel understood that she was shocked by what had occurred and deeply worried about her father and her friend.

It was as they reached the trading post that she seemed to come alive, asking questions, worried about the safety of a place so near to the attacked mission.

“Will they come here next?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Anything is possible, but I think it’s highly unlikely.” He stopped at Keller’s to warn Jack and get Susie. He told Jack what was happening at the mission, and Jack pulled out some guns from his stock and handed Daniel and Amelia a supply of ammunition.

“Pa!” Susie greeted him with a hug and a smile.

“Hello, sweeting,” he said. “Miss me?”

She nodded. “Uncle Jack said I helped him good.”

Daniel’s gaze went to his friend. “He did, did he?”

“I did.” Jack smiled at the little girl. “Susie girl was helping me straighten out this front room.” His glance flickered to Amelia, noted with a frown her bruised face. “Hello, Miss Dempsey.”

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Keller.”

“If not under the best of circumstances,” Jack replied quietly.

Amelia nodded, then followed Daniel as he took her to his home. Her whole being cried out to find her father,
but she needed to talk with Daniel about it. She’d have little chance against the Indians should she return to the mission and find them still there.

The horror clung to her, imprinting images in her mind, leaving the memory of screams that continued to ring in her ears long after she’d reached the silence. Tears filled her eyes as Daniel opened the door for her and gestured for her to enter his home.

If she hadn’t been so upset, she would have appreciated the house as a home. Then, suddenly, Amelia tensed as she recalled Daniel’s wife. Would she object to her presence? Amelia wondered. Her gaze sharpened as she studied her surroundings. She thought about the woman who had made Daniel a home, gave him a daughter.

She looked at Daniel, who had stooped to Susie’s level and talked with her quietly in words Amelia couldn’t hear. The little girl nodded while her gaze focused on Amelia with an intensity that was surprising for a child.

“You need something for your cheek,” he said, then left the main room.

Susie approached her. She stared at her. “You’ve hurt your face.” She reached up to tentatively touch Amelia’s bruised cheek.

Before the child had a chance for questions, Daniel reappeared with a wet linen towel. He pulled out a chair and gestured for Amelia to sit down. When she’d complied, he gently placed the cool, wet towel over her injured cheek. The towel felt good against her skin. She wondered if her face would swell, but realized that she didn’t care if it did.

Susie moved to stand on the opposite side of the table. “Miss Amelia,” she said in a mature-sounding voice, “Pa said you’ll be staying with us a while.”

Amelia’s gaze flew to Daniel before returning to the child. “Yes, I guess I will be.”

“You don’t have to be scared here,” the little girl said. “Pa will protect you. You won’t have to worry about bad men as long as you’re with Pa.”

“Thank you, Susie. I’ll try not to worry anymore.” She managed a slight smile. “I appreciate you sharing your home with me.”

Susie nodded, then headed to one of the back rooms.

“I can’t stay here,” Amelia told Daniel. “It’s surely an imposition.” She glanced toward the back of the house, searching. “Besides, what will your wife say?”

Daniel looked stunned. “I have no wife,” he said. A muscle twitched along his jawline. “She died years ago.”

Amelia caught herself staring. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The realization that she was staying in the house of an unmarried man came to her like she’d been kicked in the stomach. Her mind raced with confusion.

Daniel has no wife,
she thought, startled by the sudden burst of gladness she felt. She frowned. Sharing his house wasn’t a wise thing given that she was attracted to the man. She couldn’t stay with him. It couldn’t possibly be proper for her to remain.

He was looking at her oddly, speculatively. She held his gaze for a moment, wondering if he could read her thoughts. As a glimmer entered his blue eyes, she blushed and looked away.

She studied the room with more interest, then saw what she hadn’t seen at first glance. There was nothing about the room that displayed a woman’s touch, nothing except a small vase of wildflowers, picked no doubt by a little girl.

“I should go back to the mission,” she murmured, knowing that it would be too dangerous for her heart if she stayed.

“You can’t go back,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

“But my father!” she argued. “And what about Miriam? And all of the others. What if there is someone hurt but alive, who might die if they don’t receive medical attention?”

“Amelia,” he said patiently as if speaking to a child, “the only thing you’ll do by going back to the mission now is to put yourself in danger. Do you want to end up kidnapped or dead?”

“No, of course not.”

He touched her cheek, clearly startling her with his caress although he noted that she didn’t pull away. “I promise I’ll go back tonight as soon as it gets dark.” He’d realized something disturbing about the attack, something he had to think about further.

“You will?” She had a childlike look of trust in her beautiful brown eyes.

He nodded. “Will you trust me?”

Her eyes filled with tears as she inclined her head. “Yes,” she whispered.

With a soft groan, he pulled Amelia into his arms, held her tightly while she wept quietly. He understood her pain; he remembered his own that wouldn’t go away. He recalled the smell and sight of blood … envisioned savages as they attacked their innocent victims.

He held her to comfort, and found comfort of his own. He enjoyed the feel of her warm softness against his muscled hardness, the silkiness of her hair against his chin.

They stood together until silence reigned in the house and a little girl came from the back room to touch Amelia’s arm.

Amelia raised her head from Daniel’s chest, realized where she was, and blushed as she pulled away. She met Susie’s gaze with a sad smile.

“It will be all right,” the child said. “Pa will take care of you.”

The woman had to blink back new tears. Susie looked up at her with empathy in her pretty blue eyes. As she gazed at the little girl, Amelia realized what she hadn’t noticed before, that the child was clean, that her hair was blond not brown, and that she had the most beautiful blue eyes fringed with thick lashes.

Amelia touched Susie’s shoulder. “Thank you, Susie.”

She nodded, then faced Daniel. “Pa, I fixed up Miss Amelia’s room.”

“Thank you, Susie,” he responded with a gentle smile. “You’re an angel.” Susie beamed. He addressed Amelia. “Susie will show you to your room.”

She didn’t feel right about staying there. “Daniel, I’m sorry for this inconvenience.”

He gave her a halfhearted grin. “Who said you’re an inconvenience? I’ve got a problem, and you may be the solution. But we’ll talk about that later.”

Amelia tilted her head, intrigued.

“Go along with Susie now,” he urged.

The woman smiled at the child and followed her toward the back of the house.

The room that would be Amelia’s was cozy and had a four-poster bed large enough for two that was covered with a beautifully handcrafted patchwork quilt. A window on the farside of the room allowed the muted afternoon light to filter in past chintz curtains in soft shades of rose, pink, and-green. A washstand stood in a corner holding a white-and-blue porcelain pitcher and basin. A clean linen towel had been placed over the wooden rack that was part of the stand. A bar of lye soap sat next to the basin within easy reach of the bather. Not far from the washstand, a looking glass hung over a beautifully made dresser.