Montana Legend (Harlequin Historical, No. 624) (20 page)

Sarah decided that she couldn't risk it. “We'll pay another visit to the doctor this morning.”

“Aw, Ma. No.” Ella stomped her foot in protest.

Proof enough that her daughter wasn't feeling as well as she claimed. “Just a quick stop. If you're fine, we'll take you straight to school so you hardly miss a thing.”

“I don't wanna go.” Ella's eyes filled.

“I know, baby. But we want to be careful.” Sarah held her child close. “Come on, let's get breakfast or you girls are going to be late.”

She kept her voice light as she rescued the pancakes and sausages from the warmer. Everything was going to be fine. She had to believe it.

H
ome. Gage had never been so glad to be anywhere. While the house was dark, a single lamp burned in an upstairs window. Sarah was waiting for him.

He'd thought of nothing else but her the entire trip. Even had a few surprises in his saddlebag for her. One that he'd chosen from a jeweler's case. One his entire future hinged on.

He didn't bother to light the lantern, and put up his horse in the dark, going by feel. Scout nickered a welcome, begging for sugar. He gave her some, rubbed her nose, and poured grain into her feed tray when he filled the bucket for his mare.

He followed the light to the back door, where his key fit the lock. The instant he stepped into the house, he knew his life was different. Better. Because of the woman upstairs.

A flicker of light tumbled into the kitchen, showing the tidy counters and new curtains at the window. A wicker basket of colorful napkins perched on the counter next to an enamel cookie jar in the shape of a beehive. He breathed in the lingering scent of roses.

Sarah.
He warmed to the marrow of his bones,
thinking of her in his bed. Waiting. His trousers grew snug as he climbed the stairs, not bothering to kick off his boots as he went.

The light glowed beneath the door, and he felt for the ring in his shirt pocket. It was there, a reassuring presence as he turned the knob.

Would she be naked beneath those sheets? Or wearing a soft white gown he could take off, button by button?

Anxious to find out, he opened the door.

She was on the bed all right, her long hair spilling over her shoulders like liquid gold. She sat propped against the headboard in a pretty white nightgown, little Ella asleep, her head pillowed on Sarah's thighs.

The desire ebbed away.

“She's sick. Just the croup, and a light case of it. We're lucky. But her lungs are weak, and…” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and said no more. She stroked Ella's hair.

“I'm sorry.” He didn't know what to say. Wasn't prepared for this. His mind had to make an abrupt turn and he faltered a little, making his way to the bed. “You had the doctor come out?”

“We went in to see him. He's coming to check on her in the morning.”

“Good.” He cupped Sarah's neck and stole a kiss. “You look exhausted. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Barely.”

She'd spent the night watching over her daughter. Gage knew that. She didn't have to tell him. He hated how tired she looked. How dark those smudges were beneath her eyes. How pale her skin.

“It's almost time to change the mustard compress.” Sarah gently lifted Ella onto the bed.

“I'll get the fire started.” He stopped her with a touch. “You stay here with your girl.”

“Oh.” She caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “You're a good man, Gage Gatlin.”

“That's not what you told me the other night.” He nuzzled her cheek, then headed for the door.

Sarah loved Gage a little bit more for that. Her love for him grew and grew. When he returned with a steaming mustard plaster for Ella, made just right. When he carried away the cold plaster-caked cloths so she could stay with Ella. Then he returned with a cup of mint tea, so she could relax while Ella slept.

When Ella's croup broke before dawn and the worst was over, Gage promised to watch Ella for a few hours and tucked Sarah into bed beside her child.

Her last image before she closed her eyes was of Gage sitting tall and vigilant in the chair beside the bed, beyond the small pool of lamplight. He was cloaked in darkness and shadow, invisible in the night.

She had never seen him more clearly.

 

The early morning sun hurt her tired eyes, but the few hours of sleep had made a difference. Sarah slipped into a fresh dress as quietly as she could, for Ella was asleep, curled on her side beneath the blankets.

“Sarah?” Gage kept his voice low and his step light as he carried a tray into the bedroom. “Figured you could use some breakfast.”

Her stomach growled at the scents of coffee, crisp bacon, cheese-topped scrambled eggs and sliced po
tatoes in thick buttery wedges. “You did this? Of course you did. I just— It's unexpected.”

“See how useful I am?” He bussed her cheek with a hint of a kiss and set the tray on the window seat. “Ella needs her sleep, and her mother needs sustenance. You clean your plate or there'll be hell to pay.”

“Hell, huh?” She leaned into his embrace, drinking in the bliss of his strength and his touch. “I would call this heaven.”

“Me, too.” Her hair snagged on his whiskered chin as he held her safe. “Everything is going to be fine. The doctor ought to be here soon. I'll get Lucy her breakfast, and we'll watch for him.”

“I can't believe you're doing all this.”

“This is just the beginning, angel.” He released her. “I'll be downstairs if you need me.”

She nodded, too overcome to speak. See how much Gage loved her? She'd never been so cherished. Never felt such devotion.

Ella stirred in her sleep, breathing evenly, and her color was good. Sarah resisted the urge to brush blond locks from her daughter's dear face, because she didn't want to disturb her. Ella needed her sleep to recover. And she
was
going to recover.

How lucky they were.

Sarah curled up on the window seat with the plate of food Gage had made for her. As she ate and watched the sun rise over the peaceful prairie, she counted her blessings. Every single one.

 

The doctor placed his stethoscope into his medical bag with slow precision, and Sarah didn't need to hear the words as he nodded toward the hallway outside the sunny bedroom.

Her knees wobbled as she forced her feet to carry her over the threshold. Her hands were ice as she pulled the door closed behind her. “I watched her so carefully. The croup broke around four this morning. She's breathing fine.”

“I know, but I heard something with the stethoscope that concerns me.”

“Not pneumonia. No. Ella can't go through that again. I almost lost her last time and she's only starting to be as strong as she ought to be—”

“Sarah.” A hand settled on her shoulder, gripping tight. It wasn't the doctor's touch, but Gage's. “What do we need to do, Doc?”

“Sarah's been through this before. I'll be back to check on Ella around noon. If we can keep her from worsening, she'll be just fine.”

This couldn't be happening. Not to Ella. Not again. Numb with fear, she couldn't think of any questions to ask. She opened the door slightly and peered through the opening to see her daughter, so little and fragile. She didn't deserve to be ill.

“Ma? Do I have to take more yicky medicine?”

“Probably, sweetie.” Sarah stumbled into the room, tamping down her fear.

“I'm not sick anymore. Honest.” Ella shoved off the covers. “I can sit up and everything.”

“I see.” She could also see the fine trembles that shook Ella's body. Sarah helped her back onto the pillows. Heavens, she was as weak as a kitten. “You close your eyes for me, baby. You need your rest.”

“No-oo.” Tears filled Ella's eyes. “I don't wanna be sick.”

“You're just a little ill. There's nothing to be afraid
of. Some medicine, a few poultices, and in a few days you'll be playing in the sunshine with Lucy.”

“I'm so sorry, Mama.” Ella sobbed into her pillow.

“There's nothing to be sorry about. Don't be sad. Think of only good things, baby. Like Sugar waiting in the pasture for you to ride her.”

Ella didn't answer, and Sarah rubbed her back in small comforting circles. Wished she could take away her child's pain.

Muffled clangs and thuds sounded from the kitchen downstairs. Sarah knew she ought to go down and help the doctor. He was probably heating water for the powdered medicine he would bring for Ella. But she hated to leave. Lucy tiptoed into the room and climbed onto the far side of the bed.

“It's gonna be okay, Ella.” Lucy traced the stitching on the comforter with her forefinger. “My pa doesn't let little girls stay sick. He always makes sure I get better.”

Ella sighed, as if too sad to say one more word.

 

The day passed in a blur and became night before Sarah had a chance to sit down. The doctor had stayed most of the afternoon as Ella's condition worsened, fearing pneumonia could set in.

It was after midnight as Sarah wrung cool well water from a cloth, folded it in thirds and draped it over Ella's brow.

The door hinges creaked. There was Gage, his brow furrowed, holding two blue enamel cups. “Thought you might join me for some tea. With fresh honey from Mr. Lukens's hive.”

“Was that his donkey I heard braying outside this afternoon?”

“Yep. He had me look over the shoe repair I did on his animal.” Gage kept his voice low as he crossed the room and settled next to her on the window seat. “Heard about Ella and came to offer his personal remedy.”

“I'm afraid to ask.”

“Two shots of whiskey, followed by honey and tea.” Gage handed her the steaming cup. “He said it was a surefire cure.”

“Yes, but for what?” Sarah breathed in the steam. The earthy, sweet scent was pure comfort. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“Name it.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” she joked because this wasn't going to be easy. “You need to find someone else to take care of Lucy and cook for you. Ella needs me. I can't work as long as she's ill.”

“I don't expect you to.”

“The cooking needs to be done.”

“I'll manage.” He held her so tight. “Don't you see? You are welcome here. You and your daughter can stay right here forever. I'd like that just fine.”

Her throat knotted, and she couldn't speak.

“You're not alone, Sarah. Not as long as you have me.”

“What luck.” She kissed him, savored the velvet heat of his lips and the caress of his tongue to hers. Desire rose as fast as a flash flood, snapping through her nerves, sweeping away all thought.

In the quiet between them, she felt his love in a hundred different ways, from the brush of his kiss on the crown of her head to the weight of his hand on the curve of her hip. With every breath he took. With every beat of his heart against her ear.

Gage stayed with her as the hours ticked by. He brought cool water to bath Ella's face. Mixed the putrid-smelling poultice the doctor had sworn would help her lungs, and steeped a new pot of tea. They worked side by side, in perfect synchrony, until the first light of dawn.

 

Gage could see how hard it was for Sarah. See with his own eyes the nights she went without more than snatches of sleep. There were bed linens to wash daily so there would be fresh sheets for little Ella to lie on, broths to make and poultices to prepare. By the end of the week, Sarah looked as thin and pale as her child.

He was lucky to hire a girl from town—one of Mr. Lukens's granddaughters—to cook twice a day for the men and to help Sarah where she could.

There was Sarah's room rent due, and the doctor's bill to be paid. He handled it quietly, paying ahead on the room. When he heard the amount she owed the doc, he had to see the written accounts to believe it. The doctor was a fair fellow, but Gage hadn't realized how hard things had been for Sarah.

He'd brought the ring out twice before from behind the loose brick in the fireplace. Twice he'd considered this band of gold and twice he'd returned it to the hiding place behind the corner brick. He held it, studied it. Debated what to do.

Marriage was serious business, but it was a decision he'd made when he had made love to Sarah. From that moment she'd become his responsibility and now was the time she needed more from him than a job or a lover's touch.

Ella was out of danger, and he'd waited long enough.

He heard her bare feet whisper on the stairs and the hush of her skirts around her ankles. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as she came close, his body sensing her presence. That was all it took. He was rock-hard and ready and wanting her.

Yep, he was definitely going to have to propose.

“What are you doing alone in an empty room?” She hunkered down beside him on the hearth bricks. “Before Ella came down sick, I was going to ask Lucy to pick out the sofa.”

“Do you think that's wise? Her favorite color is purple and she has a fondness for fringe.”

“I happen to like purple. And fringe. That would certainly liven up this room.”

That's what Sarah had done—bring life to his world. He thought of the ring he held in his fist. “How's Ella?”

“She ate the broth on her own, and she's sleeping peacefully.”

“The doctor was pleased when he left today. Said she'd turned a corner.”

“Thankfully.” Sarah rubbed her face with her hands.

“Then that means we can be together.”

“You want me, huh?” She nestled against him, finding just the right place beneath his chin. “I suppose you came home from your trip thinking to climb right into bed with me.”

“I have to confess it's true. I'm a man longed denied his needs. Not that I'm complaining. Your girl comes first. But I've been a mighty patient man, considering what you so freely offered.”

“Hmm. That makes me sound like a certain kind of woman.”

“And me a fortunate man.” He wanted her. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding her tight, fighting control. What a good wife she would make. Loyal and hardworking and sensible. She was a devoted mother, a good friend and a passionate lover.

“Ella
is
better.” Sarah glanced at the front door, open to let in the warm night air, considering. “Maybe I could—”

Something flashed in Gage's hand, a brilliant sparkle of pure light. A ring lay in his palm, a row of diamonds nestled in a gold band. An expensive ring.