Cindy Holby (25 page)

“That we may receive mercy…” Could he receive mercy? Was it possible? If he asked, could it be given to Leah? She was so very still, so very quiet, so very lost in her battle.

Cade folded his hands and dropped his forehead to rest on them. He sighed deeply, searching inside for the words to begin.

“God I haven’t asked you for anything in years. But I’m asking you now, Lord…no, I’m begging you. Don’t take this woman. She’s good and she’s kind, and she saved my life when I didn’t deserve it.” He wiped his forehead across his folded hands, to press his mind for the correct words, words that would convey the need right before him.

“She’s got a boy. A boy that she loves with her whole life. A boy that needs her. A boy shouldn’t lose his mother…” Cade spoke from experience. He could easily say his life fell apart when his father took them west, but he knew it was the horrid death of his mother that destroyed them all.

“If you let her live, God, I’ll go on my way. I’ll leave and never look back, even though there’s nothing I want more than to stay here and try to build some sort of life. I think with Leah in my life I could be good. I could do something besides waste my life and the time you’ve given me.”

He took a deep breath. What else could he say? What else could he offer in trade for her life? “Lord, I know I’m not worth saving, but Leah is. I’ll never ask for anything else for the rest of my life. Please Lord, just let her live.” Cade dropped his head to the bed and took Leah’s hand in his. It was so hot and felt so frail. “Please Lord, just let her live…”

Exhaustion finally overtook him and Cade dozed, still gripping Leah’s hand as he was caught in that half world between dreams and reality. Something finally awakened him and he realized it was the bed shaking that brought him back. He looked up to find Leah shivering violently.

“Please…I’m so co-co-cold.” Her teeth chattered so hard that he thought they might break. “Hel-help me.”

Cade wrapped the blankets around her and scooped her out of the bed.

“Wha-what arrre you doing?”

“Taking you someplace warm,” he explained. He’d let the fires die down overnight to help cool her fever. Cade took her into the parlor and laid her on the sofa. Leah clutched weakly at the blankets as she shook so hard that she nearly slid into the floor. Cade threw kindling into the fireplace, and then stacked log after log onto the fire as it flared to life. When the heat rolled forth, he picked her up again. With one foot he scooted the rocking chair around until it faced the hearth then he sat down and bundled Leah onto his lap.

She huddled against him. Her arms curled against her breasts as she continued to shake. “What’s wr-wrong with m-me?”

Cade pulled the blankets up tighter around her. Tucked the corners in. Folded her into his arms and placed her head up under his chin. “Don’t worry, it’s a good thing,” he said. “The shaking is your body’s way of staying warm.”

Dodger padded into the parlor and sat down on the rug beside the chair. Ashes peeped up from the mending basket where she’d been sleeping and squeaked out a yawn. Cade pushed at the hearth with his feet and the chair rocked gently back and forth. The fire popped and cracked and the bird popped out of the clock in the hall and chimed the hour. Eventually the shaking subsided, until Cade, with Leah still safely on his lap, leaned forward and tossed another log on the fire.

“How long has it been?” she asked.

“Two days.”

“It feels like forever.”

Cade rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. “Yes it does.”

“And you’ve taken care of me all this time?”

“It’s the same you did for me.”

“Thank you Cade,” she said, and sighed.

Even though every one of his instincts told him to let go, to run, to leave town this very minute, Cade continued to rock the chair and held her even tighter against him.

“W
hen did you have the measles?” Leah finally felt warm. She felt safe. She was exhausted, yet she felt content. She didn’t want to move from her place in his arms so she watched the fire as the flames licked at the logs and pressed her head against his chest with the rumble of his words.

“When I was a boy. I was seven.”

“Tell me about it.”

Cade tilted his head to look down at her. He looked tired and worn, but a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “You really want to know?”

She smiled back. “I really want to know.”

“We were living with the Cheyenne.”

“The Cheyenne? Why?”

“My father was a minister. And according to my father, God wanted him to minister to the Cheyenne. They were his chosen flock as he called it. He took our family west
when I was six. Soon after we arrived at the village, there was a measles outbreak. My brother and I both got sick, and my mother nursed us inside of a hide tent, as we were living as they lived. She’d had the measles when she was a girl, so she was immune like I am now.” He shook his head at the memory. “We had to sleep on pallets. I remember hating it, as the ground was cold and hard and I ached all over. The entire time I wished that I was back at home and in my bed.”

Leah listened with fascination to the way his voice rumbled deep inside his chest as he spoke. His hold on her felt so solid, so strong and so comforting. She had no desire to move. She wanted to stay this way, safe and secure, until sleep overtook her once more, yet she felt sorry for the boy he must have been, far away from home, living with strangers and so very sick. It must have been horrible for his mother to be in a strange place and worried over the lives of her children. She wanted to know more. This glimpse into his childhood was unexpected and seemed so private.

“It must have been frightening for your mother.”

Cade suddenly went quiet and Leah turned from her perusal of the fire to look at his face. He must not have taken the time to shave in the past few days, not since she did it for him that night that seemed like ages ago. The dark stubble of his beard trailed down beneath his chin to the soft and smooth skin on his lower neck where his breastbone lay. The indentation above seemed very vulnerable when he swallowed.

“If she was frightened, she never showed it,” he finally said. “I just remember her singing to us. Smiling a lot and telling us everything would be all right.”

“She sounds like a very good mother.” She wanted her to be, just as she wanted to be. She wanted Banks to look back when he was grown and know that even though they didn’t have much, he was loved and cared for. She hoped that Cade had the same memories of his mother.

She wanted the sadness to be gone from his eyes.

“She was.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died during the massacre at Sand Creek.” His voice did not change in timbre when he spoke and she looked up to see his eyes were focused on the fire as if he were far, far away.

Leah swallowed her gasp of shock. She watched his face carefully. “Were you there?”

He stared into the fire and the rocking of the chair was steady. “Yes. I was. I saw it happen. The soldiers raped her and then stabbed her with their bayonets. They bashed my baby sister’s head in with their rifle butts. My father held me back because I tried to run to her. He wouldn’t let me save her.”

“You were just a boy. How could you save her?”

His eyes, so sad, darted down to her face, then quickly moved back to the fire. Did he see her death once more? “I could have made them realize she was white. Her hair was light brown, not black. It was a bit darker than yours. Her eyes were blue. How could they not see that she wasn’t Cheyenne? Not that it should make a difference. She was a woman. They shouldn’t have hurt her, no matter what tribe she belonged to.”

“I’m so sorry…”

He stopped rocking abruptly and looked down at her. His dark eyes searched her face. Was that why he was so sad? Because he’d seen his mother murdered? And even though he’d seen such a bad thing happen, he’d still gone on to be a minister, like his father. It spoke volumes about his heart.

And he’d nursed her. Taken care of her in her time of need. Where would she be if he hadn’t been here? Would someone else have taken such good care of her? She gave him a tremulous smile.

“You’re the first person who’s ever said that,” he remarked.

“Said what?”

“That you were sorry. About my mother.”

What a strange thing to say. And a stranger thing to happen. Why had no one comforted the small boy who lost his mother?

“What happened to you then? Did your father bring you back east?”

His eyes left her face and he once more stared into the fire. “My father dropped me and my brother in an orphanage and we never saw him again.” The words were bitter and venomous. Full of hatred for the man who abandoned him. Yet he became a minister…

The rocking stopped and he shifted in the chair. Leah realized he was done speaking, that he was done sharing. She waited, expectantly, for him to move, to release her, to tell her to rest, or to eat, or something, but he didn’t. He just shut his eyes, as if the things he saw in the fire were too painful. She watched him, watched his face for some movement, some sign. He swallowed, once, and she watched the movement with quiet fascination, and then her eyes, so very heavy because she was so achingly weary, closed into sleep.

If he let her go, he would have to leave. When he let her go…After all, he’d promised God that he would leave. Cade looked down at Leah as she snuggled deep within the blankets, safe and sound in his arms. The fever was gone. She slept, exhausted from her fight. Cade smiled at his next thought. She’d be covered in spots soon. He was certain she wouldn’t like that a bit.

Why had he told her about his past? It wasn’t as if he
forgot he was supposed to be Timothy, it was more like he just didn’t care. He wanted her to know about his past. He wanted her to know his secrets. Since he was leaving, it didn’t matter. She would know he was a liar soon enough. But despite that he wanted her to know something true about him. He wanted her to know there were reasons he left.

Cade closed his eyes and fell asleep with Leah still safely in his arms.

The smells woke him. Warm smells that drifted from the kitchen and made his stomach grumble in anticipation. How long had it been since he ate? Yesterday? The day before? His arms felt numb and his legs cramped. Leah was still asleep in his arms. Dodger was gone from his place by the chair and there was no sign of Ashes. Cade heard the creak of a floorboard and turned his head to the door. An old woman stared back at him with a knowing smile on her face. Cade arched an eyebrow in her direction.

She dipped her head in his direction. “I’m Nonnie,” she said. Her English was heavily accented. She was from somewhere in Europe. Germany? Austria?

“The apple strudel?” Leah had mentioned her. She went with the Martins. Jim and Gretchen and the passel of kids. Banks’s friends.

“Yah.” She bobbed her head. “Leah is better now?”

“Her fever broke this morning.” He flexed his cramped muscles carefully, so as not to disturb her. She made a small sound, similar to the one he’d heard Ashes make in her sleep, and he could not help but smile.

“That is good.” Nonnie came closer. She approached him as if she were afraid he might hurt her. “May I?” She touched the blanket close to Leah’s shoulder.

“Sure,” Cade said. The woman wanted to see for herself if Leah was still alive. He couldn’t blame her for that.

Nonnie pulled the blanket away. “Ach! She has the spots. See?”

Cade grinned as he looked at the rash that covered Leah’s breastbone. He wasn’t leaving quite yet. After all she was still contagious which meant he might be too.

I will leave…as soon as she is better
.

“W
hat’s the total today? A thousand? Two?” Cade put Ashes on the floor and leaned in her doorway with his arms crossed. He looked infuriatingly handsome and agonizingly spot free. He must have shaved while she napped after breakfast, and from the fresh clean smell that drifted her way it seemed he’d washed up too. His hair, still shaggy, shone from a good brushing and his smile shone as bright as the sun.

“I don’t think either one of us can count that high,” Leah replied. The spots were aggravating, but at least they didn’t itch after Nonnie had helped her bathe in oatmeal and smoothed her special rose ointment on her skin. All after hanging a sheet over her doorway, and promising to make Jim get her doors done. Her fever had returned but it wasn’t near as bad as it was before, and just left her feeling very tired. She wore a clean gown and her hair in a braid that fell over her shoulder. She was tired of lying about, but
unfortunately didn’t have the energy to do much of anything except sew. She put his frock coat aside where she’d been stitching a new collar on with some scraps of velvet.