Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (44 page)

“Danny!” She heard the same brisk command in her voice that she'd heard in her father's. Like a true Stone, Danny's head snapped up and he gave her his full attention.

“Run get Roland. I need someone to help me get your father inside. Then go tell your grandmother and the others. They need to know what's happened. Run like the wind.”

Danny took off, passing Roland, who was just rounding the corner of the house. If there had been time, Rachel would have hugged him in relief.

“I heard all the commotion and headed this direction. Figured you might need some help,” he said, already moving toward the rear of the wagon. “There's a passel of folks headed this way to see what's going on.”

Grabbing her skirt in one hand, she hurried to join him. When Roland saw who it was, he raised his troubled gaze to hers. She knew he was remembering the other time a beaten, bloody Gabe had been brought for her to patch up.

Edward returned, dragging the stretcher behind him. Rachel slid it into the wagon bed and Roland climbed in, lifting Gabe's upper torso while Rachel took his feet. Every molecule of her body was telling her to hurry, yet common sense urged her to take care.

A quick visual once-over told her that he'd been in another fight—were there more broken ribs?—and confirmed that he had indeed been shot. Twice. One bullet had struck him low in the side. The other had grazed his skull just above his left eyebrow. It had bled profusely, which was normal for a scalp wound. The bleeding had slowed to a sluggish ooze. She didn't want to think that if it had been an inch over he would be dead. She didn't want to think of possible brain trauma.

Together, she and Roland got Gabe into the surgery and onto the table. She gave Roland a quick smile of thanks. “Go get Mrs. VanSickle and take her into the bedroom. She thinks she's broken her ankle. Dad will have to handle that while I take care of Gabe. Then stay close in case we need you.”

Knowing Roland would do her bidding, she gave Gabe a whiff of ether to keep him from waking while she treated him, then scrubbed her hands. She cut away his shirt and vest and pushed the fabric aside to examine the wound on his side. Luckily the bullet had entered the soft tissue near his waist. She rounded the table and heaved him to his side. Spotting the exit wound, she knew the bullet had traveled straight through. She was cleaning the injury when her father came into the room.

“How about some help?”

“That would be great, but what about Sarah's ankle?”

Edward was already scrubbing his hands. “It isn't broken, just a really nasty sprain. I gave her a little laudanum to ease the pain, so she'll be fine until we get to her. From the looks of things, Gabe needs us worse than she does.”

“He does,” Rachel said, probing with sterile tweezers for any bits of fabric that might have been drawn into the cavity by the expansion and contraction of the surrounding flesh.

While she worked on the soft-tissue wound, Edward irrigated the head injury and probed the area with his finger. “I'm pretty sure there's no fracture or bone splinters,” he said. “And the bullet missed all the big vessels. He'll have a massive headache when he wakes up, but barring infection, he should be fine with a few stitches.”

Still as white as a sheet, Rachel looked up from her own work and flashed him an uneasy smile.
Barring infection...
The unknown element that doctors always worried about. But Gabe was strong and healthy, and she'd done a thorough job of cleaning his wound, as she knew Edward had.
Please, God...

When she finished bandaging Gabe's side, she determined that besides a few bruises on his face, he had no other injuries. Then she poured some fresh water, fetched a clean cloth and began to wash away the blood.

Her touch was as gentle as if he were a newborn, as she cleansed the reminder of the ordeal and revealed the face she loved so much. She smoothed the cloth over a cheekbone, trailing it over his eyebrows and the grooves in his cheeks.

“Rachel.”

She looked up to see her father's smiling face.

“Maybe you ought to marry the boy so you can keep an eye on him. We can't have this happening every six months.”

“What makes you think he wants to marry me?” she asked, amazed by the breathlessness she heard in her voice and surprised that her father had brought up what she'd supposed would be a touchy subject.

“Because he's already asked me if I'd mind.”

* * *

Rachel had no time to think about what her father had said. After they checked Sarah over and treated her cuts and scrapes, Rachel immobilized the swollen ankle. Sarah would spend a miserable few days, but her injuries were not serious, and Rachel released the groggy female into the care of her husband and son, telling them that if they needed her in the night, not to hesitate coming for her.

Secure in the knowledge that she and her father had done all they could for their patients, she cleaned and straightened the bedroom and treatment room. Rock steady and able to rely on her skill and knowledge in a crisis, she was less professional if the patient was someone she cared about, often assaulted by a ridiculous panic and shakiness once the emergency had passed. Mundane tasks helped steady her.

After peeping in on Gabe once more, she and her father went into the parlor, where the Granvilles and the preacher sat waiting for news of his condition. Someone had made coffee and served the leftover peach cobbler she'd made for supper.

Libby, who was cuddling Danny on her lap, looked up as soon as she spied them in the doorway. Worry added years to her pretty face. Danny, too, looked anxious. Thank goodness his grandmother had been here to comfort him.

“How is he?” Libby demanded. “Danny said he'd been shot.”

“Yes.”

“Who would do such a thing?”

“Sarah said it was Elton Thomerson and another man.”

“A local, I assume?” Win asked.

“Yes. Sarah told Dad she was being robbed and Gabe came to help, but that's all we know at the moment. There was no time to ask too many questions since he needed immediate attention. We'll have to wait until one of them is lucid enough to tell us more.”

Weary from standing so long, Edward, who had traded his canes for his wheelchair, rolled himself over to Libby and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Barring infection or trauma to the brain, he should be fine.”

“Trauma to the brain?” Win echoed. For the first time since meeting him, Rachel saw a breach in his supreme self-possession.

“He sustained a gunshot wound to his side.” Rachel put her hand on her own side to indicate the approximate location. “The bullet went all the way through. I cleaned it as best I could and removed a few cloth fragments. But infection is always a concern.

“It appears the second bullet grazed his scalp.” Again, she pointed out the spot. “Dad didn't detect any bone fragments, and we don't expect any other damage at this point, but we can't be completely sure. Unfortunately, we have no way of looking beneath the skull to assess any other injury.”

“Is he gonna be all right?”

The question was asked by Danny, who looked at her with the fearful expression of someone who realized that his world had been turned upside down and he had no way to set it aright.

Rachel crossed over to him and squatted down. Danny catapulted from his grandmother's lap into his mother's embrace, flinging his arms around her neck.

“I hope so, Danny,” she said, holding him close and inhaling the little-boy scent of him. Dirt and sweat. A smell she could breathe in all day. One Libby had been robbed of by Lucas Gentry. She blinked back the sudden sting of tears. “You know Pops and I will do everything we can to make him better, but it's in God's hands.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Then we should pray, shouldn't we?”

“We have been,” Blythe offered. “But we can certainly pray now if you like.” She looked at the minister. “Brother McAdams, would you lead us, please?”

“I'd be glad to.”

The preacher led the request to God, praying for returned health for both Gabe and Sarah, for the capture of the men who'd caused the injuries and for strength for the families and protection for the community from further incidents. When he'd finished, Danny seemed comforted and asked if he could see Gabe.

“Of course you can,” Rachel said, standing and taking Danny's hand. “I'll go with you.”

“If it's okay with you, I think Pip should go,” he said and gave a shrug. “I mean, Dad is her little boy, and I know she's worried about him.”

“You're right, of course,” Rachel told him, meeting Libby's gaze. Like Danny, Libby had just found Gabe. If her heart was aching half as much as Rachel's, she was in a lot of pain.

Rachel followed Libby and Danny to the room where Roland had put Gabe after Sarah was taken home. She stopped in the aperture and leaned against the doorframe. Libby went straight to the bed and reached out to brush back an errant lock of Gabe's hair. Danny stood in the doorway watching, almost as if he were gathering the courage to face Gabe's injuries.

Finally he took a tentative step and then another. Libby held out her hand to him and pulled him to her side. Rachel watched as he looked from the bandage wrapped around Gabe's head, over his bruised face to the one circling his middle. He swallowed hard.

“He looks really sick, doesn't he, Pip?” he asked in a low, trembling voice.

“He does,” she agreed, pulling up the sheet to hide the disturbing picture from Danny.

Rachel approved of the answer and gesture. There was no sense denying the obvious.

“Do you think he'll be all right?” he asked in a quavering voice.

“I do.” The statement held firm conviction. “His father was as tough as nails, and I come from sturdy New England stock, and your mother and grandpa are very good doctors. Besides he's already come through one round with those robbers, so I can't imagine him letting this get him down, can you? He has too much to look forward to.”

Danny angled his head and looked up at her. “Like what?”

“Like being a father to you, for one thing. I know it's in God's hands, but I just can't believe that He would bring your father back to his family and not allow you to have a life together.”

“Like God sent him back here on purpose?”

“I really think so,” she said, brushing Danny's hair away from his forehead as she'd done for Gabe. “God works in our lives, Danny, even when we don't do what He wants. He says, ‘You didn't do what I wanted, and now look what a mess you've made of things! But don't worry, I can fix it if you'll only trust me and let me have control of your life.'”

She smoothed his hair again. “People usually understand things better and change as they grow older. Often they try to fix their mistakes by doing the right thing. I believe that when they do, it's God working in their lives.”

He nodded. “Is that what He's doing with Mom and Dad? Mom said they made a mistake a long time ago. Do you think God is trying to help them fix it?”

Rachel blinked and swallowed the lump that suddenly clogged her throat. From across the room, Libby's eyes met hers.

“I do,” she said with the same conviction she'd used earlier. “I really do.”

Chapter Thirteen

I
t was almost midnight when Rachel finally convinced the Granvilles that Gabe was stable and they all should go back to the hotel for some sleep since they would be leaving for Boston the following day. When he arrived, Caleb joined her in trying to convince his mother. Libby finally agreed to get some rest but vowed that nothing could persuade her to leave town until she knew for certain that Gabe was on the road to recovery. Understanding the maternal mind-set, Rachel offered no further argument.

Once she had donned her gown and robe, she went into Gabe's room and made another thorough check of him. His pulse was steady, and both injuries had all but stopped bleeding. He stirred as she listened to his chest.

“Lie still,” she said, gently pressing a hand to his shoulder.

At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes, glassy with pain and dulled by the anesthesia she'd given him. “Rachel.”

His voice sounded as if he'd swallowed gravel.

“Don't talk.”

“Not going anywhere.”

“Not for a while,” she said, removing the earpieces and looping the stethoscope around her neck. She started to turn away, and his hand moved with surprising speed to grasp her wrist.

“Don't go.”

“I'll be right here,” she said.

“Promise.”

“I promise.” The vow seemed to satisfy him, and he closed his eyes. She slipped from his loose grasp, and convinced that he was holding his own, she lay down on the cot.

Drawing a deep breath, she forced the hands fisted at her sides to unclench and folded them over her middle. Using a technique her father had taught her, she started at her toes and willed every part of her body to relax, releasing her not only from the tension, but also the “doctor mode.” Once she was filled with calmness instead of cool objectivity, she could try to process the past few hours and all they meant. One thing stood out above all else.

Gabe might have been killed.

She wasn't aware that the tears she'd imprisoned behind a facade of professionalism had escaped and were running down her temples. She had waffled over her feelings for weeks now, knowing she loved him but telling herself she wasn't sure she could trust him or that love, feeling he had to prove that he had changed and that he intended to stay no matter what, so that she and Danny would not get hurt.

What a cockamamy notion! She either loved him or she didn't. Real love didn't set rules. It didn't depend on stipulations:
Promise you will never do anything to make me angry or hurt me. Prove that you won't repeat the same transgressions so that I can trust that you mean what you say. Do all these things and I'll love you.

Ridiculous and naive.

Love just
was.

Loving someone and sharing a life was fraught with pitfalls that guaranteed pain. Whether it was sudden and passionate, tender and gentle, or based on the solid bedrock of respect and mutual liking learned through the years, love was an indefinable emotion that crept up and took root in the heart, often when you were not looking for it and least expected it.

Love bloomed indiscriminately and for reasons no one understood, often striking two people who were totally unsuited or were in disparate places in their lives—like Caleb and Abby.

It was near impossible to imagine two people less likely to suit, yet despite that, and despite not knowing it at the time, they had each seen something in the other they needed to be whole.

She began to think it was the same with her and Gabe, and yet she had almost let her stubborn pride and resentment blind her to the truth. She would make no excuses for him or herself or their past. The truth was that even back then she'd recognized something in him that she lacked and yearned to possess.

He was interested in almost everything and she was single-minded. He was curious and she was cautious. He was spontaneous; she was structured.

Yet she'd been drawn to something else about him. She sensed there was a hunger gnawing at him, but she had not been able to pinpoint what it was. Only in the past few weeks had she realized that his happy-go-lucky persona was nothing but a veneer to hide his loneliness, and his years of defying convention had been a quest for some indefinable something to fill the void in his life and his heart.

An emptiness left by a dearth of love.

Lying immobile, trying to keep the noise of her crying as quiet as possible, her aching heart threatened to break as she tried to imagine what it must have been like to grow up with Lucas Gentry as a father in a house that was not a home. With no one to comfort, to encourage, to love. She could not reconcile the image with her own loving upbringing.

She imagined what it must have been like to grow to young adulthood with Lucas setting the standard. There had been no one to teach Gabe and Caleb decent values, respect for women or the difference between love and desire. That he would grow up to be a scoundrel was not so surprising. The surprise was that he'd grown up to be decent in spite of his upbringing...or lack of it. Libby's goodness and integrity surely ran through his veins.

Rachel could almost imagine Gabe's thoughts as he wandered aimlessly over the country seeking the next city, the next amusement, the next woman. Maybe
here
would be the place,
this
would be the diversion,
she
would be the woman, only to realize that they were not.

She was positive of one thing now. He was not the same man she'd fallen for nine years ago. She couldn't imagine that Gabe throwing himself between a bullet and a woman who had wronged him so badly. This Gabe had made great strides in becoming a different person. This Gabe was a man she could love and trust, and yet it had taken the prospect of losing him to make her realize it.

If he did die—and that still was not outside the realm of possibility—he would never know she loved him or that she would say yes if he did ask her to marry him. Faced with the possibility of losing him, she was certain she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him, teaching and showing him all about the love he'd never known.

She would let him teach her about the things she lacked and so desperately needed—like spontaneity and seeing the unexpected humor in the commonplace and what it was that made him so fascinated with so many areas of life. She wanted to wade in the creek, to fly kites, to go off for a weekend without a plan....

She prayed, asking God to spare Gabe, for her sake and Danny's. Prayed for another chance to get things right. Even knowing that her requests might not be answered in the way she wished, when she whispered “Amen” she was at peace.

She had done everything in her power to restore him to health. He was fine for the moment. It was enough. Like Libby, Rachel believed that God indeed had had a plan when He brought them all together again. They would just have to wait to see what it was.

* * *

The following morning dawned sunny and full of promise. Gabe had slept soundly through the night. If he was able, she would have him sit up today.

After a quick breakfast and a single cup of coffee, she left her father in charge of the patient and headed across town to see how Sarah was doing. She hoped the woman was enough recovered to tell her exactly what had happened.

She found Sheriff Garrett there with the same goal in mind. They exchanged smiles and greetings.

Sarah was propped up in bed and was having a light breakfast, though she said she wasn't the least bit hungry. She was still groggy from the laudanum and had trouble keeping her thoughts corralled, but she managed to give a reasonable account of what had happened on the Antoine road.

“I'd gone out to the Allen place to take Nita some supplies. She's been having a hard time of it since Yancy was killed.”

Nita was an Indian who, to the consternation of many in town, had married an Irish logger some thirty-three years before. Not only had they held it against her, they'd looked down on her son, until he'd left to make his own way in the world.

“The boy is back from prison now, you know,” Sarah said. “Though someone well over thirty isn't a boy, is he? He's quite a menacing-looking individual,” she said with a shudder. “Big and mean looking. He never said a word or cracked a smile while I was there. Nita said he—”

“Begging your pardon, Sarah, but can you tell us what happened to you and Gabe yesterday evening?” Colt asked, sensing that a gossip session was about to begin. “You said you'd taken them some supplies.”

“Yes, just basic things. It's our Christian duty to help others, you know, even if they are savages.”

Colt's mouth tightened. “Right. So what happened on your way home?”

“These two masked ruffians ambushed me! They came riding out of the woods and forced me to pull over. Then one of them dragged me from the buggy and ripped off my earrings. Thank the good Lord my ears aren't pierced,” she exclaimed. “Ears bleed a lot, don't they, Rachel?”

Not waiting for her to answer, Sarah forged ahead. “About the time they demanded my reticule and other valuables, Gabe came along and told me to give them what they wanted. Well, I told him, told the others, too, that I had no intention of handing anything over. I like my jewelry, and Randolph worked hard to buy it for me. You understand, don't you, Rachel? How a woman feels about her pretties?”

“Of course,” she replied, eager for Sarah to move along with the story. She was more than a bit amazed by Sarah's tenacity and willingness to fight.

“Gabe and the other man wrestled around and his bandanna fell down, but I didn't recognize him. I was trying to scratch out the other hooligan's eyes, and he lost his mask, too. You can't imagine how shocked I was to see that it was that no-good Thomerson scoundrel.”

“So it
was
Meg's husband?” Rachel asked, forgetting that she was not the one asking the questions.

“I told you that last night,” Sarah complained. “You should pay better attention. At any rate, one of them said that we'd seen their faces. The other one pulled his gun, and I could see by the cold meanness in his eyes that he had every intention of using it. He swung it toward me and told Gabe to stay back. I flung myself into the gully, figuring any harm that might come of it would be better than being shot. As I was going over the edge, Gabe threw himself between me and Thomerson.

“He could have been killed,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a snowy-white napkin, “but he stepped between me and those bullets.”

The sheriff and Rachel looked at each other, shocked by the display of emotion. Maybe Sarah had a heart after all.

Colt asked her a few more questions and said if he needed to know anything more, he'd come back when she was feeling better.

After he left, Rachel examined Sarah from head to toe. Satisfied that she, too, was doing well and cautioning her to stay in bed for the remainder of the day, Rachel promised to be back before supper and headed to Ellie's.

She stepped into the cozy café with its cheerful yellow gingham curtains and blue crockery displayed on the shelves. The air was redolent with the mingled scents of frying ham and fresh-brewed coffee, teasing her taste buds even though she'd eaten with her father.

She was surprised to see Win sitting at a table near the window. Ellie was nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen. Bethany was standing at the pass-through to the kitchen, waiting for an order. Her hair, strawberry blond instead of dark auburn like her mother's, rippled down her back in loose waves. She turned and recognized Rachel. The smile that bloomed on her face shone in her slanted brown eyes.

“Coffee, Miss Doctor Rachel?”

Her words were not enunciated clearly because of the extra length of her tongue, but you could still understand what she was saying.

“That's right, Beth. And will you add some of that condensed milk if you have it?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Rachel took the seat across from Win. “Eating alone?”

“Everyone else was still asleep, and I needed my coffee,” he told her with that easy smile of his. “Of course, the ham smelled so good I decided on breakfast, too. May I buy you some?”

“Thank you, but I ate with Dad.”

“How's Gabe?”

“He had a good night. Everything seems fine this morning. I don't suppose you know if your mother rested or not.”

“No. Have you found out anything else?”

“Sheriff Garrett was at Sarah's when I went to check on her.”

Bethany arrived with the coffee and set it down carefully. “Thank you,” Rachel said, smiling at the young girl. “You look very pretty in that blue dress.”

“Thank you, Miss Doctor Rachel.” She turned to go back to wait for the order.

“What a shame,” Win said, watching her go. “If it weren't for the Mongolism, she'd be a beautiful child.”

Rachel speared him with a disapproving look. “She's a beautiful child just as she is,” she informed him in a tart tone. “And actually very smart in her own way.”

“Forgive me,” he said, seeing that he had ruffled Rachel's feathers. “I mean no disrespect, merely that it is a sadness.”

“I'm sure you didn't, but please don't waste any time on pity. Neither Bethany nor Ellie would appreciate it, I can assure you.”

Ellie chose that moment to step through the swinging door, Win's breakfast in her hands. His relief was palpable. Instead of handing it to her daughter, she said, “Will you please bring that little bowl with Mr. Granville's gravy, Beth?”

“Yes, Mama.”

The smile Ellie bestowed on her daughter lingered as she turned back to Win. “Here you go,” she said, setting down the plate filled with fried ham, biscuits and three eggs over easy.

Win looked at the spread with combined pleasure and dismay. “You wouldn't want to marry me, would you?” he asked, his tawny-brown eyes gleaming with that wicked, teasing twinkle.