Captive Heart (6 page)

Chapter 10

The sound of a rattle stopped Thayne cold. He looked down just in time to see a three-foot prairie rattler slither alongside Emmalyne. Thayne searched for a rock, but seeing none, he slowly crouched down, enough to reach for his pistol lying in the grass a few feet away. He lifted the gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The sound reverberated across the prairie, leaving silence behind. Emmalyne hadn’t even flinched.

Thayne picked up the headless remnant of the snake and flung it across the track to the other side. Holstering his gun, he dropped to the ground beside Emmalyne.
Had she been bitten? Or just scared?
He hoped fervently for the latter as he checked her arms, then lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing a distinctive, angry welt just above her left ankle.

All this and a snake—
Thayne took out his knife and cut a strip of fabric from the hem of her skirt. He tied the cloth just below her knee then lifted his blade again, slicing an
X
across the bite. Lowering his mouth to her leg, he began the arduous and uncertain task of removing the venom from her bloodstream.

* * *

“Upstairs, second door on the left,” Mrs. Beckett instructed as she clasped and unclasped her hands. “Doctor’s not in, you know.”

“Yes. I’d heard that,” Thayne said dryly. It was the third time in about three minutes the distraught woman had mentioned her husband wasn’t at home. “I’m sure—where you’ve been his assistant—you must know of something to help the lady.” He started up the steep, narrow stairs, Emmalyne limp in his arms.

Behind him, Mrs. Beckett looked out at the street, considering. “Well, yes. Yes.” Her voice rose with sudden certainty. “There
is
something.” She closed the front door and turned to go into the dining room. “I’ll be right there,” she called up the stairs.

Thayne entered the bedroom and gently laid Emmalyne across the bed. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing shallow. He took her hand and felt for her pulse. It seemed unnaturally quick.
The venom doing its job?

Behind him he heard Mrs. Beckett’s heavy footsteps.

“Bought this just last month. Mr. Beckett was none too pleased, but he didn’t see the demonstration like I did.” Mrs. Beckett bustled into the room, brown bottle in one hand, a spoon in the other. “Miraculous. That’s what it was. Cured Miranda Bigbee, and that woman ain’t been right for years.”

Thayne looked doubtful. “When did you say the doctor might return?”

“Oh, not for a long while.” Mrs. Beckett seemed almost cheerful. “He’s out to the Nielson farm for a birthing. And Mary’s so big, she’s likely having twins.”

Not good news. Thayne rubbed the stubble on his chin as he watched the woman pour a spoonful of greenish syrup. “What exactly is that?”

“Humphrey’s Homeopathic Number 28.” Mrs. Beckett held up the bottle, peering at the fine print on the label. “A sure cure for nervous debility, vital weakness or depression, a weak exhausted feeling, no energy or courage, the result of mental overwork, indiscretion, or excess.”

“It doesn’t say anything about snake bites?” Thayne walked around to the other side of the bed.

“Sure it does.” As if sensing his intention to stop her, Mrs. Beckett leaned over, pinched Emmalyne’s mouth open, and shoved the spoon inside. Emmalyne began to gag, the greenish liquid spilling from the sides of her mouth.

“Now hold it in there, girl,” Mrs. Beckett said firmly. She turned to Thayne, who was standing beside her, an angry look on his face. “She
is
weak and exhausted, and if venom doesn’t qualify as excess, then I don’t know what does.” Mrs. Beckett took a cloth from her apron pocket and returned her attention to Emmalyne. “Leave the doctoring to me, and we’ll have her good as new in no time.”

* * *

Thayne’s head tilted to the side as a snore escaped his open mouth. Mrs. Beckett clucked her disapproval as she marched into the room, an armful of clean linens held tight to her ample chest.

“Mr. Kendrich,” she said loudly. Thayne responded with another, deeper snore. Her eyes narrowed as she advanced and gave a swift kick to the raised front leg of the chair he rested in, already propped at a precarious angle against the wall.

The chair wobbled, and Thayne’s head snapped up, his eyes opening wide as one hand flailed in the air and his other went automatically to the holster at his hip.

It was empty. The chair spilled him to the floor, and he struck his head on the wall. Looking up, he remembered belatedly where he was and that the stout woman standing over him had demanded he leave his gun with her before entering the house.

“I told you earlier, there’ll be
no
sleeping in here. I’m not running a boardinghouse, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Thayne reached a hand up to tip his hat in apology before remembering the woman had taken that too.
No gentleman wears a hat in my house,
she’d insisted.
Am I correct in assuming you
are
a gentleman, Mr. Kendrich?
What could he say then or now? He needed her to think him as gentlemanly as they came.

He rose slowly to his feet, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “I’ll get me a room just as soon as my Emmalyne wakes and I know she’s all right.”

“She’s right as rain,” Mrs. Beckett insisted, striding toward the bed. She deposited the linens at the foot, then leaned toward the headboard, reaching out to feel Emmalyne’s forehead. “No fever.” She picked up Emmalyne’s limp arm, clamping a hand around her wrist, feeling for her pulse. “Steady as can be,” Mrs. Beckett announced less than ten seconds later—not long enough to really tell, Thayne thought.

She dropped Emmalyne’s arm unceremoniously to the bed and turned to him. “Your lady is fine. Off with you now. You can come back tomorrow.”

Thayne racked his brain for an excuse to stay. “But—”

“Nope.” She cut him off, her palm flashing in his face. “Having a strange man in our house don’t sit right with Mr. Beckett
or
me.”

She was not going to be persuaded. He looked past her to Emmalyne, sleeping peacefully on a comfortable bed, while he was ordered out like a stray dog.

Mrs. Beckett held her arm out, indicating he was to precede her out of the room. Thayne took one step then turned to her. “She’s like to be in a panic if I’m not here when she wakes.”

Mrs. Beckett shook her head. “Nonsense. A woman always feels better in the company of another woman.”

Thayne was afraid she was right, especially considering all Emmalyne had been through the past few days. Waking up in a bed—in a
house
—with a woman nearby instead of him would probably seem like heaven after being dragged across the prairie, starved, dehydrated, nearly burned, and bitten by a snake. If he was any sort of decent man, he’d just walk away and leave her here in peace.

Too bad it’d been so long since he’d been decent. His needs—or rather, Joshua’s—trumped Miss Madsen’s just now, and that was all there was to it.

Thayne stepped out into the hallway, and Mrs. Beckett closed the door behind them. He had no choice but to walk down the stairs and wait in the parlor while she retrieved his things.

“My gun?” he asked, irritated when she returned with his hat and nothing else.

“Collateral. It will be returned after we’re paid, of course.” She gave him a forced smile.

“Of course,” he grumbled. He could pay her now with his remaining money, but he decided to wait. If he wasn’t able to get the bank in Deadwood to wire him a note for a wagon and supplies, he might need that cash to get them home. What he needed right now was a tale that would keep Emmalyne safely here until he
could
get her home.

“Take care of her,” he said, glancing toward the door at the top of the stairs. “We haven’t known each other all that long. Mail-order bride, you know.”

Mrs. Beckett’s eyebrows rose. “I see. How . . . interesting.”

Clearly, she wanted to know more. Thayne grinned inwardly as he stood there, watching as she struggled against asking him. No doubt she was imagining what a juicy piece of gossip she’d have to share with her friends. He turned his hat in his hand, a thoughtful look on his face as he constructed his tale. “She’s a city girl. We wrote a couple of letters. I took the train and met her in Chicago, and we were married. Next day we boarded the train heading back to Colorado, then three days ago, in the middle of Nebraska, that train was waylaid by outlaws.”

“Oh my,” Mrs. Beckett exclaimed, one hand covering her heart. “I suppose it was dreadful.”

He nodded emphatically.

“Were there many of them—outlaws, I mean? Do you know what they were after? Was there some special cargo on the train?” Mrs. Beckett’s tongue practically tripped over itself as she struggled to get all her questions out.

“I’m not certain what they were after,” Thayne said. “But they threw all us men off the train, myself included. But Emmalyne, my little Emma—”A half smile touched his lips as he remembered the way she’d fought
him
on the train. “She launched herself at the nearest outlaw, somehow threw him off balance, then she jumped right outta that train after me. We both nearly died.”

“I’d wondered at her bruises,” Mrs. Beckett said.

Have you now? Good thing I thought to explain these few things, then.
“Once we’d recovered enough to walk, we started out along the track. Trouble was, we didn’t have much in the way of food or water. After a bit, we ventured away from the rail line, searching for a spring to get us by.” Thayne shrugged. “That’s about the whole of it—oh,
except
for the holes.” He touched his shoulder gingerly. “Outlaws shot me twice. I lost a fair amount of blood. Emmalyne took care of me.” He looked up the stairs again with what he hoped was a tender expression.

“Only thing I did was carry her here after she stepped in that snake’s path. But you see, she’s had a time of it—hardly slept at all except with me to comfort her. She’s had terrible nightmares about them outlaws.” Thayne shook his head. “Heck of a way to start a marriage.”

“Well she’s sleeping beautifully now. Must be the tonic.” Mrs. Beckett studied him for a long minute. “Unbutton your shirt, Mr. Kendrich.” She folded her arms across her chest, waiting expectantly.

He stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“That’s quite a tale you’ve just told, and I wish to see if it’s true. Beyond that, you may be in need of some doctoring yourself.”

“I’m well enough,” Thayne grumbled. But he began unbuttoning his shirt, only too eager to have such proof to offer the doctor’s wife. When he’d undone the last button, he pulled the shirt back as much as he could. Carrying Emmalyne had hurt, but rotating his shoulder brought a fair amount of pain as well.

Mrs. Beckett stepped forward, lips pursed as she inspected his wounds.

Thayne grimaced, then swore under his breath as her fingers tugged at the makeshift bandages stuck to his skin with a mixture of dried blood and sweat.

“Hush now,” Mrs. Beckett scolded. “From the looks of this, it appears that maybe you are in need of a bed.” A genuine smile touched her lips. “A bed and a spoonful of Humphrey’s Homeopathic Number 28.” She stepped aside and directed her newest patient up the stairs. “Arthur will be singing a different tune when he discovers I’ve cured not one but
two
patients in his absence.”

Chapter 11

Thayne whistled cheerfully as he left the bank and headed toward the livery. The promissory note from Deadwood had arrived that morning, and he was out to purchase a team of horses, a wagon, and supplies for the remainder of their trip and the winter ahead. Had Emmalyne recovered faster, he’d have simply bought a couple of horses for them to ride, but she’d slept most of the past two days, waking only for short periods of time.

He was worried about her slow recovery—more worried that her already tiny frame was shrinking further without proper nourishment—but he hoped that would soon be amended. After being forced himself to take Mrs. Beckett’s nasty tonic, then sleeping like the dead for the next twelve hours, he was pretty certain he knew what was causing Emmalyne’s continued drowsiness. Fortunately, today
Doctor
Beckett was around to keep his wife out of the sickroom. Thayne fervently hoped they’d see vast improvement in their patient by evening.

Thinking about Emmalyne and what the two of them would need to get to the Lakota camp and then home, Thayne paused in front of one of Sidney’s two general stores. He watched through the window as two women talked over a bolt of fabric, their heads bent in conversation. He thought of Emmalyne’s torn brown wool, her discarded corset, her ruined shoes. He hadn’t done right by her at all, and it was time he changed that—time he showed the woman he expected such great help from that he could provide all she needed. And even a little more.

* * *

“I need to send a telegraph,” Emmalyne insisted as she tried—with only partial success—to sit up in bed. Her head felt twice its normal weight, and the room spun dizzily, the man and woman standing over her moving in and out of focus. Emmalyne concentrated all her efforts on the woman. “I’m supposed to be in Sterling, but outlaws boarded our train. One abducted me and—”

“I
told
you. She still needs that tonic.” Hands on hips, the woman looked from Emmalyne to the man beside her.

He wagged a finger. “It’s the gosh-darned tonic caused her to hallucinate in the first place.”

“You’re wrong, Arthur. For once, just please admit that you—are—wrong. Her husband told me she’s had nightmares ever since they were waylaid by those outlaws.”

“I don’t have a husband!” Emmalyne’s voice was shrill, and she gripped the covers, pulling herself up straighter. “I’m a schoolteacher. I answered an advertisement to go to Colorado.”

“There, there, dear.” The woman sent one more glare the doctor’s way then sat on the edge of the bed and took Emmalyne’s hand in her own. “I’m Mrs. Beckett, and this is my husband,
Doc
Beckett
.
I know it’s difficult, but let’s try to help you remember where you are. You were on your way to Colorado, just after you were
married.
”

“No—I . . .”

“It’s only natural you’d forget,” Mrs. Beckett interrupted. “You were barely wed when those bandits stopped that train. You remember being on the train now, don’t you?”

“Yes. But I’m not—”

“Do you remember getting bitten by a snake?” she prodded.

Emmalyne shuddered. She’d likely never forget. She had walked that day until she was certain her feet were going to fall off, and then out of nowhere, the snake had struck. “I’d almost made it. I was almost safe, and that horrid snake bit me.” Her temper flared again. She brought a hand to her head, massaging her temple as she looked up at the couple imploringly. “I was trying to get away, and I was even going to get help for Mr. Kendrich.”

“Of course you were.” Mrs. Beckett reached for the bottle on the night table. “It must have been terrible.”

“You have no idea,” Emmalyne said. “I nearly died in a fire. They shot him twice.”

“Yes, yes. We saw his wounds. You were a good wife to treat him so carefully.” Mrs. Beckett arched an eyebrow and looked knowingly at her husband. He shook his head, but she turned her back on him, hand touching the tonic as she spoke soothingly to Emmalyne. “We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

“She’s already better.” Dr. Beckett towered over his wife. “Give me the bottle, Agatha, and go down and fix this poor woman something to eat.” He placed one hand on his wife’s shoulder while the other tried to pry the bottle from her fingers.

“Arthur, I—”

“
Now,
Agatha.” His tone was stern, leaving no room for argument.

Emmalyne shrank back onto the pillows, watching the peculiar exchange between her caretakers. With a huff, the woman stood, lips scowling, eyebrows drawn together. Her husband held his hand out, clearly expecting her to give him the medicine. With a pained expression, she surrendered it, then stomped out of the room. He followed quietly, turning in the doorway to address Emmalyne.

“We’ll bring supper shortly, and don’t worry about any more of Mrs. Beckett’s cures. She means well, but I’ll watch her close tonight.” Half closing the door, he stepped into the hall.

Emmalyne shut her eyes, head hung in defeat as she thought of what to do now. Clearly, Mrs. Beckett was not going to believe or help her, but the doctor might possibly. And Mr. Kendrich? Where was he? When had they seen his wounds and heard his twisted version of her abduction?

Married, indeed.

She felt the same spark of anger as when he had first demanded she get out of her seat on the train. Thinking of all she’d faced since then, Emmalyne knew she could still figure a way out of this mess. She just needed to get to the telegraph office. Wondering if the house had a back stairway and an exit other than the front door, she leaned forward, pushing the blankets away, her intent to walk to the window and survey the street below.

“You’ll need some new clothes before you leave.”

Emmalyne’s hands froze on the quilt, and she slowly raised her head, looking at Thayne Kendrich, standing—hale and hearty—in the doorway. She met his eyes, crystal clear and blue, looking at her almost as if he were concerned.

“You’re alive.” It was a ridiculous thing to say, but all she could think of was the last time she’d seen him and the guilt she’d felt at leaving him alone and injured.

“No thanks to you.” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Emmalyne drew the quilt back up to her chest. “You wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know what to do. I left to get help.” She didn’t know why she cared, but it suddenly mattered that he believed she hadn’t left him to die.

“I’m sure that was your plan,” he said sarcastically. “Help would have been a little late, seeing how you left me with no gun, canteen, or hat.”

“I left you a pail of water,” Emmalyne said. “And what could you do with a gun when you couldn’t even move your arm?”

“And my
hat
?” Thayne walked closer, tossing a package on the bed.

“It was hot,” Emmalyne said, defending herself. “I thought it might help me get to Sidney without fainting again.”

“Nice try, and I might have believed it, except Mrs. Beckett just told me how you said you were almost safe when that snake bit you.”

“I was!” Emmalyne cried, leaning forward, her hands balled into fists at her side. “Was I so wrong to want to get away from you, to get to Sterling where I’m supposed to be?”

Several seconds passed before Thayne answered. At last he shook his head. “Not wrong at all, Brownie. I can’t blame you for wanting to leave. Trouble is, I still need you.”

“You don’t.” Emmalyne shook her head. “What could you possibly need me for? You’ve gotten out of more predicaments in the past few days than most people see in a lifetime. Surely you can get whatever you need from the Indians—without my help.” Her fingers clenched the blanket, and she looked at him, pleading.

Thayne pulled the chair away from the wall and turned it around. Straddling it, he sat, leaning closer to her. “You feeling all right?”

“Marvelous,” Emmalyne grumbled, realizing he wasn’t about to be swayed. “How long does snake poison stay with you? My head feels like it’s full of cobwebs.”

Thayne nodded, understanding. “That’s not the venom—took care of that myself. And for the record, that’s five times I’ve saved your hide now.”

Emmalyne glared at him.

“Mrs. Beckett’s tonic is what’s muddling your mind. I had a dose myself, and it knocked me for a loop.”

“I don’t think she’ll rest until she’s given me more,” Emmalyne complained.

“It’s not likely I can convince her to leave you be, but how about something to take your medicine with?” Thayne reached into his empty holster and pulled out a shiny silver spoon. He held it out to Emmalyne.

Her brow furrowed a moment before her mouth opened in surprise, and she snatched the spoon from him. “My silver? Wherever did you find it?”

Thayne grinned. “Seems your dear old granny is staying at the Sidney Imperial for a few days.”

“My gran—” Emmalyne stopped abruptly, realizing he’d caught her in her lie again.

“I said I’d bring her here so you two could catch up, but she declined the offer.”

Emmalyne lifted her chin. “As I told you before, considering the circumstances, my falsehood was perfectly justified.”

“Whatever you say.” Thayne’s grin broadened. “Anyhow, I persuaded Granny to return your bag.”

“You’ve my entire valise?” Emmalyne asked, unable to conceal her delight.

In answer,Thayne reached down and retrieved it from below the foot of the bed. “Seems to be yours. Still got that heavy dictionary. I’ll let you keep it if you’ll promise not to hit me.”

Emmalyne ignored his barbs and reached for the carpet bag. Cheered, she held it on her lap, quickly opening it and looking inside. A wistful smile touched her lips as she sorted through the familiar treasures, laying them out across the coverlet.

“She looks just like you,” Thayne said a moment later as Emmalyne lifted a miniature portrait.

Her head snapped up. “You went through my belongings?”

“Only to see that your silver was still there. I wasn’t about to pay good money for some old books.”

“Money?” Emmalyne scoffed. “What’d you do, convince the old woman you’ll work with her again on the next train robbery?”

Thayne shook his head. “Nope. Just got some money the good old-fashioned way. I went to the bank here in Sidney.”

Emmalyne’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth, horrified. The portrait slipped from her fingers, landing softly on the quilt. “You
robbed
a bank? Did you hurt anyone? Are they looking for you? Oh my.” She began shoving the books and silverware back into the valise.

Thayne rolled his eyes. “I didn’t rob it. I wired my bank, and they sent a note. The only people looking for me are the Doc and Mrs. Beckett, waiting on me to join them for supper downstairs.”

“Supper?” Emmalyne said indignantly. “Why should they invite a common outlaw to their table?”

Thayne shrugged. “Could be on account of how I’ve paid a pretty penny for your care. And Mrs. Beckett is particularly taken with me. I drank her tonic and survived to tell the tale. She’s downright beholden to me for showing up her husband, not to mention she thought it particularly heroic how I carried my bride here while I had two bullet holes in me.”

Emmalyne’s eyes narrowed. “You’re despicable. You—you—”

“Could charm the skin off a snake?” Thayne asked with a disarming grin.

She nodded vigorously, arms folded across her chest. “Thank heavens I’m no viper.”

“My thoughts precisely,” he concurred, rising from the chair.

“And we’re
not
married.” Her tone was sharp, but she couldn’t help looking up, questions in her eyes.

Thayne laughed disdainfully. “’Course not. Tried that once before, and believe me, I won’t be making that mistake
ever
again.”