Silver Heart (Historical Western Romance) (Longren Family series #1) (3 page)

             
"The knife?  You're – Maggie?  Margaret?  What's the knife for?"

             
An absurd need to laugh rose, the response to fear, and to the absurdity of the introductions.  "Hush," I said, "and stop moving.  I need to cut the trousers only.  I need to see the wound."  And looked up to the nearest pair of male legs to find that Hutch Longren now stood there.  I nodded at him, as if certain he would understand, and he did, leaning down to put his hands on his brother's shoulders. 

             
"Easy, Matthew, let her work. She's a trained midwife." 

             
That got a harsh, nervous laugh from the men who still ringed us and on the wave of the laughter, I used the enormous knife to cut away the cloth surrounding the bloody hole on Matthew's leg, cutting as far as I could and ripping the rest, then nodding to Hutch so he could help me move his brother and I could see the back of his leg.  Moving him made Matthew cry out. I worked as fast as I could, wanting to provoke as little pain as possible. 

             
The bullet had gone straight through and the hole was relatively small on both sides.  Someone had tied the rags above the wound, and the blood had stopped.  What was left, then, was to get him something for the pain and to clean the wound.  The first, he'd like but the second, not so much, and both could be accomplished at the same time.

             
"Which of you has whisky?" I asked, and the men around us had the sense not to worry that Mr. Longren was their boss, but simply offered me their flasks.

             
"Drink this," I said, handing one flask to Matthew.  His hand brushed mine as he took it.  I felt the same shock I had when Hutch had brushed against me in the house and refused to acknowledge it. 

             
The second flask I used to wash out the wound, which made Matthew draw in his breath and then shout.  The sound echoed from the maw of the mine.  I did not look at the mine, did not meet Matthew's eyes, just waited until the echoes and the patient had stilled, then, still kneeling, looked up to Hutch Longren.

             
"That needs to mend, uncovered, and probably needs to be cleaned another time or two. Does he have someone to care for him at home?"

             
Mr. Longren shook his head.  "But he lives not a mile away."  He sounded grim as he crouched now beside his brother.  To his brother, he said, "We will discuss this when the bleeding has stopped," in a voice that made me glad I was not Matthew Longren.

             
I thought Matthew's response, "The bleeding has already stopped, brother", was unwise, and my hands tightened just enough on his knee to both remind me that I still touched him and to suggest to him perhaps discretion was the better part of valor at present.

             
The bleeding
had
stopped and though I might not be the traditional doctor these men were used to, there was a general loosening of tension.  The knot of them loosened as well, men stepping back and away, pinches of tobacco being shared, voices rising.  I didn't mind no longer being in a circle of strong smelling strangers, or having the room to think what needed to be done next and someone to consider options with.

             
Hutch remained with me and his brother, and the two men who had ridden with us.

             
"We need the wagon to take him back to his home," I said, and saw the slighter of the men, the one with the eyeglasses, blink owlishly at me, as if surprised I would continue to give orders or make suggestions now that the emergency was over.  I met his eyes, and refused to look away until he did.  Once he looked back to Matthew, I looked at the man Mr. Longren had called John and then at my intended.  "Or is there something here we can use?"  I did not want to be left waiting as Mr. Longren went back for the wagon we had used.

             
"How about the steam donkey?" one of the clutch of men called, and laughter followed that, though it seemed good natured.

             
I turned to stare at Hutch Longren and found him grinning.  "You'd best ignore that lot," he said.  "Steam donkey's for hauling within the mine."

             
"Very funny," Matthew said.  "I can ride."

             
"No, you can't," Mr. Longren said, at the same time I said, "You certainly cannot."  Our eyes met and he nodded slightly.  "There's a wagon 'round here somewhere.  John'll round it up," he said, nodding, and John started away.  "Wait a minute," Mr. Longren stopped him, and when he turned back, nodded to me.  "John Overton, this is Margaret Lucas, my betrothed.  Miss Lucas, Mr. Overton manages and oversees Silver Sky mine for me, and tries to keep Matthew out of trouble."             

             
"Failed at that," John Overton said, as he nodded to me, hat lifted slightly.

             
Matthew started to protest, caught his brother's no-longer-smiling glance, and subsided.

             
In due course, the pale man with spectacles, Marcus Millichap, as it turned out also a mine foreman, went off with John Overton and the two returned with a wagon they'd collected blankets and branches for, trying to soften the bare boards of it.  Matthew was loaded into the wagon and though he turned quite pale, he remained stoic throughout.  Two horses were hitched and Mr. Longren offered me a hand to climb up.  I shook my head.

             
"I'd rather walk," I said, and as he started to protest, "I can keep a better eye on the patient here – " which made Matthew sputter indignantly.  I could use the time to clear my head, as well, for seated so close to Matthew, I doubted my head would remain even as clear as it was.

             
Hutch Longren gave me a considering look, one that, if I didn't imagine it, seemed not only appraising but impressed, then turned and clicked at the horses and began to lead us back to the house.

             
I walked beside the wagon, just slightly behind Matthew so I didn't have to meet his eyes or Hutch Longren's.  My head didn't clear at all and through the few miles we covered, I found myself looking from Hutch's strong, broad shoulders to Matthew's dusty curve of neck, and my heart refused to slow its frantic pace.

             
Twilight on my first day in Gold Hill found me heating foods the neighbors had brought by when they heard about the accident.  I didn't manage to meet anyone. They came like brownies are supposed to do in the night, cleaning up and leaving food and going away again, because that's what neighbors do when there's an accident.

             
"Accident my – eye," Mr. Longren amended, seeing a note left under a Dutch oven that contained chicken and potatoes. 

             
Together, we had brought Matthew in, his arms around our shoulders, and I had studiously not thought about what I was doing, trying to jar him as little as possible but of course, our heights were wildly different and Matthew listed to my side, which was, at least, the uninjured leg.

             
"I should go home," Matthew said as we installed him on the davenport, his leg extended and propped up.  "Miss Lucas, I surely didn't mean – "

             
His earnest face made me laugh before he even finished.  "To get shot on my first day?"

             
He looked mortified, and more so when Hutch said, somewhat lightly, "Thought she might as well know what she's in for, did you?"

             
But following that was an uncomfortable silence.  If I hadn't known my place or what was expected of me before, I certainly couldn't know it now.  But as the sun was going down, and as I was hungry, I assumed both men were as well, and cooking would be familiar, even if all I was doing tonight was building a fire and heating foods the neighbors had brought.  I took my leave of them both, glancing back as I went into the large, well-scrubbed kitchen.  They were eyeing each other warily and though I thought Matthew had the most to fear, Hutch looked equally ill at ease.

             
I didn't try to eavesdrop, and I made certain to move as came naturally in the kitchen which, given it was a kitchen I didn't know, was loud.  I dropped things, bumped into things, and, once, swore audibly when my elbow came in contact with the iron cook stove.  Maybe because I didn't try to be silent, or maybe because Mr. Longren was unused to having anyone else in his house, they spoke in normal voices and once I found I could overhear, I made a point of doing so.

             
"What are you doing?"

             
"Getting up.  I need to get back to my house.  It's no good, me being here. You have a new bride – "

             
"She's not my bride yet, and you'll not get out of it that easy.  Sit down, damn it, Matthew. You're going to make it bleed again.  Do you ever think or do you only act?"

             
"You don't know what happened."  He sounded grumbly, in pain, and I'd need to find a chemist or the doctor everyone had spoken of.  He needed something for the pain.

             
"I intend to," said his brother grimly.  "Was it Joseph Gibbons?"

             
Matthew's voice sounded surprised when he answered.  "No.  Why would Joseph shoot me?"

             
There came a sound like Hutch had punched one hand into the other.  "Why wouldn't he?  I've heard tell you've been courting his daughter."

             
A faint sound of amusement in Matthew's voice.  "This is news to me.  Are we enjoying ourselves?"

             
"You were shot today, Matthew.  Is that a laughing matter?" 

             
I thought that he could laugh at all was a good thing, and then that before much longer, I needed to go in and tell – or perhaps ask – Mr. Longren to go and fetch the doctor.

             
"I'm not seeing Mr. Gibbons' daughter.  I'm fairly certain I'd know."

             
I caught a round of cheese I'd just knocked off the bench, put it back up and looked around for a knife.  I'd lost all track of what I was preparing to go with the plentiful chicken and potatoes.  My attention was fully on the drama going on in the sitting room.

             
"Matthew, I'm not joking.  What.  Happened?"

             
I pumped water, added it to a pitcher, moved to put the pitcher on the big, well-used, spotless table.  I needed to find a tray – Matthew couldn't be sitting up at the table – but was loathe to interrupt the conversation going on in the other room.

             
Which turned then, suddenly far more serious, as befit a gunshot wound, but I was sorry to hear Matthew's voice so grim.

             
"Jason Seth, Hutch." 

             
And after that came silence.  My heart raced, because his voice was grim and because his pronouncement was followed by silence.  Hutch said nothing, though I waited, straining to hear.  I had no idea who Mr. Seth was, or what this had meant, and I was moving toward the door to the kitchen, the one I'd left only pushed to, when something alerted me, the smallest sound, and I whirled back around, going back to the cabinets, searching for plates, for utensils. 

             
"We're just about ready," I said as Mr. Longren came through the door, and turned to see his face was drawn and ashen.  He looked my father's age, and ill.  "Are you all right?"  My hands went out to him.  Without thinking, I reached for him, putting both hands on his forearm.

             
He didn't seem to notice, though I was well aware of warm skin and the corded muscle beneath. 

             
"Is it Matthew?" I asked when he didn't reply, and he looked up, bewildered, before his eyes cleared. 

             
"Matthew is fine.  Empty headed, but his leg isn't bleeding.  The doctor will be here soon."  His expression didn't change.  Without admitting I'd been listening, there was nothing more I could ask.

             
"Shall I bring a tray for Matthew?"  The kitchen was hot, stuffy from the stove and end of day as it faced west.

             
"Yes, of course, thank you."

             
I waited a beat, and when he said nothing else, said, "Could you tell me where to find a tray?"

             
"Hmm?"  His eyes cleared then and he looked right at me.  "I'm sorry, Miss Lucas.  What an introduction to Gold Hill.  I appreciate what you did for my brother today, and don't mean to worry you with – " He stumbled over his words.  "With anything else."  He crossed to the pantry and after a few minutes of more noise than I had produced, came out holding a silver tray, which he handed to me.  "Could you bring my supper out as well?"

             
I swallowed, thinking of eating alone in the kitchen, but truly I could use the time to think.  Or not think.  I was tired and the conversation I had been overhearing was more worrisome than informative.  I made up the tray with plates of chicken and potatoes, with biscuits, cheese, and freshly sliced apples, with glasses of water and mugs of coffee and took it into the sitting room. 

             
Hutch Longren stood at the window, looking out toward the street, one arm up against the wall, his shoulders strong and broad.  Matthew lay with his eyes closed, a curl of dark hair over his forehead, his lips parted.

             
I got out of there as soon as I could and this time, I closed the kitchen door firmly behind myself.

              The doctor arrived as I finished cleaning up the kitchen.  He came with a buckboard and left his horse tethered to the porch rail, as if either the horse or the doctor meant to leave in some great hurry.

             
"Matthew Longren," he called from beyond the screened door.  "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

             
I hoped for an answer to be forthcoming but when none was, I let myself out of the kitchen and into the sitting room.  If I learned nothing else, I could at least learn what I'd done right or wrong for Matthew's wound.

             
The doctor nodded to me when I entered but didn't stop what he was doing, which mostly concerned looking at the wound, gently pressing around the edges, and making "mmm" sounds.  At last, he stood and I was able to see Matthew's face again.  He was covered with a sheen of perspiration, looking gray and exhausted, and I was grateful when the doctor opened his black bag and removed a needle and syringe. 

             
"Morphine will get you through the night," he said, and to Hutch, "I assume he'll be staying here."

             
Hutch nodded.  His own face was gray and exhausted.  Worry for his brother, no doubt.  I hadn't heard them talking much before the doctor came and I was no more enlightened as to who Jason Seth was than I had been before.

             
"The sheriff will be visiting, no doubt, but with the morning," the doctor said, and administered the shot to Matthew, who had closed his eyes and kept them closed.  "Now," he said, straightening, "I'd like to talk to the nurse."

             
I blushed, cursing my fair skin, and stepped forward.  Before I could say anything, Hutch stepped forward and said, "This is Miss Margaret Lucas, Doctor Horton, my bride-to-be.  She only arrived this afternoon on the train."

             
The doctor tipped his head back to look at me through his spectacles, which had slipped down his nose.  He was a young man, red haired and earnest, and he studied me for a moment before saying, "Quite the introduction to our town, then.  I'd like to commend you, Miss Lucas.  Are you a trained nurse?"

             
"I did very little," I said, feeling nerves flutter in my stomach.  Despite how little there'd been for me to do, I'd had hours of worrying I'd done something wrong.

             
"What you did, you did well.  Cleaning the wound, which not everyone knows to do, and tying it off."  He still studied me, absently polishing his glasses now on his vest.

             
"My mother was a nurse in Boston," I said.  "During the war."  When this didn't make him look away, I added, "I'm trained as a midwife."

             
And that, finally, made him look down at the glasses he held, his mouth tightening just a bit. 
Yes,
I thought,
there's the reaction, and maybe what he had been looking for.
  Was I competition?  No, sir, I wasn't.  I had no need to be confronted with another bullet wound, or with snakebite or illness or anything outside the realm of births but often, my admission of my training left men uncomfortable, and now my first day was closing with the local doctor suspicious and local matrons glaring as I galloped past on my not-yet husband's lap.

             
So be it.  I'd done what I needed to do, and wasn't one for letting propriety keep me from doing what was right.

             
And in that minute, Dr. Horton relented.  "It was in the family and it was done well, no harm and no concern."

             
I wasn't sure what that meant, so I merely nodded. 

             
"He should sleep now, and I will take my leave," he said.  "I will see him tomorrow, and you, I presume?"

             
I nodded again, and the doctor left.  Matthew didn't open his eyes and his breathing had evened out and when Mr. Longren touched my arm, I accompanied him back into the kitchen.

             
He sat at the table, strong, long-fingered hands clasped together.  "I wonder if you'd make me a cup of coffee, and join me?"

             
There were roasted coffee beans, and someone had beaten the sugar and broken it out, and the stove was hot.  I set about making the coffee, watching him as the last of the sun went down.  He sat with his back to the kitchen window, his dark curls gleamed in the remaining light and his face was shadowed. 

             
When the coffee was ready, I served it then took a seat beside him at the table.  Once seated, I could see his features again, his bright blue eyes. 

             
"What should I tell you about today?" he asked, his hands wrapped around the mug, despite the heat in the kitchen.

             
"All of it, if I'm to be your helpmate," I said, my attention focused on his hands.  They were strong and rough where they wrapped around the mug.

             
He took a long look at me and nodded.

             
I didn't expect him to begin where he began.  His face was serious and from the sitting room, we could hear Matthew's breathing, heavy and pained despite his sleep. 

             
Still, the first thing Hutch Longren said was, "This morning, I woke up knowing I'd meet the future Mrs. Longren."

             
I caught my breath but managed not to move.  He wasn't looking at me, but rather past me at something I couldn't see.  For a horrible instant, I thought he'd start with what a disappointment the meeting had been.  No reason to suspect that, we didn't know each other yet, it had been a day full of incident neither of us could be blamed for.