The Parson's Christmas Gift (4 page)

“Did Reverend Thompson—Zane—say how she was?”

“Your horse?”

“Yes.” She yawned again. “Gypsy.”

Abby turned away, as if she suddenly remembered the spoon and bottle she still held. They clinked together on the table. “Zane didn’t say. He was more anxious about Doc Ferris getting out here to see you. He said you were in and out, calling him ‘Hank’ or something like that.”

Journey kept her eyes down, staring at her hands on the quilt. A chill fell over her. She no longer felt drowsy. What else might she have said?

But Abby chattered on, unaware that she’d struck a nerve. “If anyone can patch up your horse, it’s Zane. He worked with his father raising horses before Mr. Thompson passed away. What he didn’t know about horses wouldn’t fill a thimble, and he taught Zane everything.”

She slid back down on the bed, pulling the covers all the way over her shoulders, and Abby put another log on the fire. “Keep warm. Doc was worried you’d fall into shock, being out in the cold air like you were. But you look better already than you did when I first arrived. Your color’s back.”

Boots on the porch boards outside the front door roused her. She and Abby turned as the door swung open, revealing Zane and Sam. Journey caught the shake of Sam’s head when he looked at his wife. The sharp whinny of the horse echoed in her memory. How bad could it be?

Zane looked haggard. The bruise around his eye from his fall at Miss Rose’s was dark and swollen. He rubbed a hand over the shadow beard on his chin, and she felt sorry for the trouble she’d caused him. He shrugged her saddlebag from his shoulder and hung it on a peg near the door, then hooked the gun he carried above it. He turned and stared at her.

She grew uneasy, self-conscious, thankful the doctor hadn’t needed to disrobe her to splint the leg. She felt bare toes scrape the blanket only on that foot, the other stocking still in place. Why didn’t he say something?

He swiped a hand through his hair and cleared his throat, then placed his hand on his hip.

“How bad is she? I have to know.”

Zane cleared his throat again and looked over to Sam and Abby. Then his gray eyes turned in her direction and he drew in a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am—Journey,” he said. “I had to put her down.”

The coldness swept through her again, and this time her injuries weren’t to blame. She covered her face with her palms.

Slender fingers squeezed her shoulder. Journey looked up to see Abby’s teary face. She’d cry herself if she thought it would do any good. She’d come all this way. She couldn’t let herself get caught now. But without Gypsy…

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Abby said. “We’ll help you. Miss Rose has plenty of space and a good little riding horse she’ll let you use, I know it. We’ll work things out with her.”

“I have nothing to bargain with. I can’t stay here. I’m sorry, I should have said before, but I couldn’t possibly—”

“Sure you can,” Sam said. “I’m sorry about your horse. Believe me, I know what it’s like to lose a good mount like that. It feels like you lost your best friend. But the Lord works in mysterious ways, right, Zane?”

Zane nodded. “Don’t worry about anything, Journey. It’ll work out.” His voice rasped as he stood in the flickering light.

You don’t know! How could you take my horse?
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to shove him out the door and demand he bring Gypsy back.

“I’ll stay with you tonight, and we’ll let you get some rest,” Abby said. “Zane and Sam can stay out in the barn. Then in the morning they can ride over and talk to Miss Rose, let her know what’s happened. After church we’ll ride you over in our wagon.”

“But how can I work for her now?”

“It’s the company she needs most,” Abby said.

“And we’ll be around to give her a hand,” Zane added. “I guarantee she’ll not consider you a bother.”

Her options had been shot out from under her. It was all decided. She’d stay in Walten until her leg healed. Until she could afford another horse. Until she paid all the debts this one night had cost her. She sighed. Or until the law caught up with her.

Z
ane dragged his feet across the rug at the door. Journey lay across his bed on top of the quilt Sarah had made. He’d had it in his buckboard the night of the fire, and it was the only tangible thing he had left of her.

“Zane? What’s wrong?”

Abby’s voice drew him from the memories that never were very far away. “Nothing. I was just…nothing.” He nodded toward the patient. “She ready?”

Abby nodded. “She’s tuckered out. I helped her wash her hair, so between that and the laudanum Doc Ferris left her, she sleeps hard.” She looked from him to the tiny form on the bed. “I get the feeling she hasn’t had a good rest for a long time.”

Zane remembered her wild-eyed fear the night before when he’d found her in the woods. Something about her tugged at him, and he didn’t know himself yet what it was. “Well, maybe that’s why the Lord led her here. He definitely wanted her to stick around awhile. What did Doc say?”

“Six weeks. By then the snow will be through the pass and she’ll be here until spring.”

“Did she say where she was headed yesterday?”

Abby shook her head. “I have a feeling she wasn’t planning to be here long, though.” Her shoulders rose with a forceful breath. “Does Sam have the wagon ready?”

“He’s ready and waiting.”

“Good. I’ll go out and get the blankets ready, and you can bring her out,” Abby said, pulling on her sweater from the back of the chair.

Zane started. He hadn’t thought of how they would get Journey to the wagon, but looking at her now, he knew she wouldn’t be managing it on her own.

“It’ll be good if she stays asleep. I know from experience that leg will pain her these first few days especially.” He didn’t add the fact that she hadn’t been too fond of him the last time he’d tried to help.

Abby grinned and patted his shoulder on the way out. “Don’t be nervous, Zane. It’s not like she’ll bite.”

“You didn’t see her last night when I brought her in here.”

Abby got a strange look in her eyes, the one that told him her thoughts were moving the conversation into a different direction entirely. “Maybe in time both of you will change your perceptions, then. You deserve to give some girl the chance to make you happy again.”

He laughed softly as she swept out the door with a wink. Abby, the eternal matchmaker. She’d been the one to introduce him to Sarah.

Striding over to Journey’s prone form, he adjusted his hat and bent down to pick her up. Instead of the tense fear that weighed her down last night, she felt no heavier than a new colt. He pulled her head against his shoulder before managing to get a grip under her knees to lift her up.

Her hair followed in a trail that swept past his elbow, a fiery wave of still-damp curls. She smelled of lavender soap, and he knew Abby had been adding any little thing she could to comfort their newest resident.

Standing upright, he felt her shift against him, burrowing her face into his shoulder with a soft murmur. Thick lashes brushed her tanned cheek, which blurred a fine spray of freckles that could be seen only from this close. Her wide mouth parted open slightly, and he felt her soft breath at his neck.

Zane tightened his hold and focused on moving her out the door without jarring her bound leg. But had she been awake and not fighting against him, he knew she would feel his pounding heart in the hand that brushed his chest.

Abby needed to stop putting ideas into a man’s head.

The rumble of pans being placed in a cupboard roused Journey. She ran her fingers over the heavy brocade of the couch where she lay. The fire crackled and cast a soft light over the room, which had grown darker since her arrival that afternoon.

Her throbbing head reminded her why she was there. A groan escaped before she could stifle it. She eased into the pillow as Miss Rose came into view, standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a drying towel in her hand.

“Did you sleep well?”

Journey stretched her leg, the one that wasn’t broken. “I must’ve. I forgot where I was for a moment. What time is it?” Her whole body felt stiff.

“Nigh onto seven o’clock.”

“I guess I slept the day away.”

Miss Rose smiled. “It’s the best thing for you. You had enough excitement last night to wear a body out. And I’ll bet the ride here this morning didn’t help any. Are you hungry?”

Her stomach rumbled before she could deny it. “A little.” She mustered a small grin.

“Good. You dropped off before supper and we hated to wake you, so I saved you a plate. Let me warm it a bit and I’ll bring it in for you.”

Journey pulled herself up further with her arm. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. I can come out.” She paused as her vision swam.

Miss Rose had already moved back into the kitchen, but her crackling voice carried through. “You’ll do no such thing. Doc Ferris said you’re to keep that leg up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Doc Ferris’s word carried a lot of weight, Journey already knew. Pain medication was given every two hours, no matter how she tried to beg off. No weight on that leg meant being carted to the house by Zane Thompson in his arms, much to her embarrassment. She’d slept through the move from his house, at least. But now here she sat, being waited on by the woman she’d been hired to care for.

The steaming plate placed on her lap aroused her hunger even more. She smiled her thanks and leaned forward as Miss Rose propped more pillows behind her. The chicken leg and green beans smelled delicious, and a thick slice of bread with a generous spread of butter and a drizzle of honey made her mouth water. She calculated the cost of such a meal and made a mental note to keep a ledger. But for now there was nothing to do for it. She’d have to eat if she was going to stay strong and mend quickly. She poked a bean with her fork.

Miss Rose must have been satisfied, because she smiled and said, “I’ll leave you to your supper. I figure you’ll want some time to ponder your situation.” Then she moved back toward the kitchen.

Journey sat back into the cushions, grateful for the solitude. But ponder? There wasn’t much she could do. Miss Rose welcomed her with open arms and seemed pleased with the arrangement. Tears fought their way into her eyes as she thought about the kindness these people had shown. How could she tell them why she had run? Didn’t they deserve to know? What if they threw her out? What would she do then?

Her options had been cut off. She tried to think what had spooked the horse in the first place, but a fog surrounded all the particulars of the night before. Now here she sat. No horse. No money. No job. Broken leg. She tore a corner from the bread and chewed, trying to slow her jumbled thoughts.

Part of the reason she’d taken up with Hank back then had been because she’d felt she had no choice. But the day she had stood up to Hank was the day she’d realized she was never without options. Even now, looking over her shoulder, waiting to be caught for her crime, she was better off than she’d been with Hank.

Biting into the tender chicken, she thought about her predicament. She couldn’t walk around, but there was nothing wrong with her hands. There had to be something. No great loss without some small gain, Mama had always said. Where was the glimmer of hope?

Journey licked the salty crisps from her fingers. Cooking meant standing. Tending children was out of the question. She drew in a deep breath. Something would come to her. The one thing she did have was time to think—a lot of time to think.

She silently thanked Abby for taking the time to help wash her hair before she had dozed off. She’d need some pins to put it back up. She yawned. Maybe it could wait until tomorrow.

The shuffle of feet from the kitchen drew her attention. “I thought you might want your saddlebag,” Miss Rose said, nodding toward the floor by her side. “Zane left it there for you.”

She glanced at the buckles. They didn’t seem to have been opened since she’d fastened them yesterday. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You might as well get into the practice of calling me Miss Rose,” the old woman said.

“I’ll work on it.” She squirmed under the blanket, trying to shift her aching leg into a more comfortable position. “I appreciate what you’re doing, honestly I do. I’d be at a loss without your kindness. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll pay you back for everything, somehow. I hate to be beholden.”

“Nonsense. I’m glad to help. And I don’t want you fretting about it. This gives me my chance to play the Good Samaritan.” She patted Journey’s good leg and took her empty plate. “We’ll even it out when you’re able, dear.”

“You’ll find I’m not very ‘dear,’” she whispered. “Please, just call me Journey.”

“I think there’s more ‘dear’ in you than you give yourself credit for.” Miss Rose stroked a hand over Journey’s hair. Like Mama used to do. Warmth for this woman grew no matter how she tried to stop it.

“Zane left this package for you. He brought it in with your saddle.” Miss Rose handed her a lump tied in brown paper, then returned to the kitchen.

The fabric she’d bought at the store. She’d have a fine dress, plenty warm for winter. At least she could work on that.

She always could sew a fine seam. Mama had taught her to stitch and to sew in the afternoon hours before she’d go to work. If she could find sewing to do, it might not be much, but at least she could pay something toward her board until she was up and around again. She would ask Abby to post a notice in the store.

She turned her attention to the saddlebag, listening for Miss Rose to return. Looking over her shoulder, she fumbled the buckle open and hefted the bag to her lap to reach the bottom of the deep pocket.

The touch of cool metal brought a sense of relief. They hadn’t found it. She pulled the Double Derringer gun from the pack and slid it into her skirt pocket. The smooth nickel barrel and walnut handle felt secure in her fingers.

Yes, there were options. Spring was a long winter away. She had to wait and not tip her hand. Because if they knew she had killed a man, her only options would be prison or a rope.