Wild Innocence (8 page)

Rachel eyed the surgery with satisfaction. She had just finished straightening her father's instruments. With a missionary's help, she had replenished the medicine cabinet with the plants and herbs necessary to prepare John Dempsey's medicines. She had met Miriam Lathom, the missionary in question, earlier that week, and been amazed by her knowledge of medicinal plants.

Rachel had moved from Amelia's house a week ago. Already, she felt a lift in her spirits. It had been difficult living near Daniel. The man brought tension into every room; Rachel had continually felt his disapproval of her. Now that she had moved in with her father, she felt a return of her confidence and self-worth.

I can do this,
she thought. It hadn't been hard so far. During this past week, her father had treated patients for a splinter, an infected insect bite, and a broken arm. The infected bite had made Rachel slightly queasy, as it had been an ugly wound, but she'd assisted her father without flinching or turning away.

I can handle anything if I put my mind to it.
She was pleased with how things were going. It wasn't Baltimore; she missed Aunt Bess and the social life she'd once known, but here she had her father and Amelia.

If I have to put up with Daniel Trahern to enjoy Amelia's company, then I'll do so.
Perhaps with time Daniel would come to know, then to trust her. She didn't understand why he'd been quick to judge her. She'd done nothing wrong.

Her best friend Miranda was still in the area, but she would be leaving soon—the next day, in fact. Rachel would miss her friend terribly. They had visited each other often this past week with the knowledge that their time together was limited.

Miranda had an interest in Jack Keller, Rachel noted. But Jack's affections lay elsewhere ... with Jane Milton, Daniel's sister. She didn't know if the others could see it, but Rachel could.

She might not get along with Daniel, but she liked his sister Jane. Jane was shy and kind. It bothered Rachel to see the sadness in her blue eyes; she wished there were something she could do for the woman.

Unlike Daniel, Jack had changed his attitude toward her. He was actually quite pleasant. Rachel didn't feel threatened in any way by him, perhaps because of his feelings for Jane.
He would be good for Jane,
she thought. But she wasn't about to interfere. She was no expert on love; she'd failed badly in her own experience with it. The pain of Jordan's betrayal still hurt bitterly. She missed what they'd had together, but she found it more difficult to picture his face these days. Was that a good thing? She wasn't sure, but she thought it might be.

With the surgery and sickroom cleaned, Rachel moved to the living quarters. She had taken over Amelia's old room, making it her own, decorating it with her belongings. She had her own keepsakes of her mother. Among them were a piece of glassware similar to the one Amelia had displayed in her great room, and a table runner embroidered by her mother's hand. Her most prized possession sat on the dresser in her bedchamber at the infirmary: a delicate silver comb and brush set with hand mirror. Rachel had gazed into that mirror many times as a child, after Amelia or Aunt Bess had brushed and fixed her hair.

Rachel thought of her mother wistfully as she entered her father's bedchamber and saw his clothes tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair and on the bed. She smiled as she picked up John Dempsey's shirt and hung it on a wall hook.
Was he always this messy, Mother?

The pants she left on the chair, but she smoothed the fabric so that it lay without a wrinkle.

Were you happy together?
she wondered as she straightened his bedcovers.
Father certainly loved you. Did you love him as well?
She got misty-eyed as she picked up a cup he'd left on his bed table.
Were you sorry you married him? Did you ever doubt his love or your feelings for him?

With a last glance around the room, Rachel took the dirty cup and brought it into the kitchen. There she eyed the remains of the breakfast dishes. She set the cup down and went about preparing to wash plates and cups.

“Hello?” A feminine voice accompanied a soft knock on the inside kitchen door trim a short while later.

Rachel turned without alarm and grinned at Miranda. “You're up early this morning,” Rachel said as she continued to wash, then dried a teacup.

Miranda nodded. “Uncle Rupert wanted me to make a list of supplies for our journey home.”

The women's expressions sobered at the mention of Miranda leaving.

“What am I going to do when you're gone?” Rachel asked, her throat tightening. They had been friends for so long. She would miss her.

Miranda shook her head, her eyes glistening. “You have Amelia,” she whispered. “But what will I do? I'm almost tempted to stay, but my parents will be upset if I don't return soon. I've been here longer than I'd planned.”

Rachel smiled through her tears. “There is a whole line of beaux waiting for you back in Baltimore.”

Her friend grinned. “And you need someone there to put a stop to the rumors about you and Jordan.”

The smile fell from Rachel's face. “Yes.”

“Your sister has invited us for supper on our last night. You're coming, aren't you?”

“Because it's for you, I wouldn't miss it.”

Miranda frowned. “Is Daniel still behaving badly?”

“Not exactly. He's civil enough to me, thanks to Amelia. But when my sister's not around, he makes no secret of his disapproval of me.”

“I don't understand this. You've never had a problem getting a man to like you.”

“That was before Jordan,” Rachel said quietly.

Miranda hesitated, as if she didn't know what to say.

Rachel saved her friend from having to respond. “What time is supper?”

Miranda mentioned the time. “Good,” Rachel said. “It'll give me some time to finish here before I go over to help her.”

Her friend's eyes widened as she glanced around the room. “You're cleaning?”

Rachel smiled. “Can't you see?”

Miranda nodded. “Who would have thought ...”

“I'm enjoying it, Randa. I never thought I would, but I do. In fact, I didn't at first.”

“I'm glad for you.” Miranda shivered as if the thought of such work offended her. She regarded her friend with concern. “You're sure you'll be all right here?”

Rachel's expression softened. “I'll be fine. I have Father; and as you said, I have Amelia.”

 

 

Supper was an unusual affair attended by Amelia's family, Miranda and Rupert Clark, and Jack Keller and Daniel's sister and niece. Rachel had arrived earlier to see if she could in some way help her sister. To his credit, Daniel hadn't said a negative word when he'd opened the door to her, smiling instead as he'd told Rachel where she could find her sister.

Rachel had enjoyed the time spent with Amelia that afternoon as they prepared the night's feast. There were two kinds of meat, three types of vegetables, and Rachel had helped Amelia make muffins and cake to accompany the meal. Judging from the praise from the evening's guests, the sisters' efforts had been well worth it.

“Miranda, would you mind taking something back to Aunt Bess for me?” Amelia asked.

“I'd be happy to,” the young woman assured her with a smile.

“I'll like you to take a note from me, too,” Rachel said quietly.

Miranda nodded. “Anything for a friend.”

Rachel blushed under Jack's and Daniel's curious gazes. “Thank you,” she said.

The conversation at the dinner table was light and centered on the Clarks' journey back East. There was a knock on the cabin door as the guests began their dessert. Daniel rose from the table to answer the summons. Rachel heard the low murmur of male voices. Then, her brother-in-law stepped back from the doorway, and Rachel recognized Will Thornton, a young man from the mission.

Will's gaze immediately sought out John Dempsey. “Dr. Dempsey, there's a new patient at the infirmary,” he said.

At the sight of Will, John had already risen from his chair. Rachel stood, ready to follow.

“What happened?” the doctor asked.

“It's Black Hawk,” Daniel said, and Rachel saw what she hadn't noticed before—that her brother-in-law appeared extremely upset. “He's been attacked and shot.”

“Oh, Daniel,” Amelia cried, hurrying to her husband's side.

John turned to his youngest daughter. “Rachel—”

“I'm coming, Father.” She quickly hugged her friend, with the knowledge that she might not see Miranda again before she departed for home. “Take care, Miranda.” She touched Rupert's cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Rupert,” she whispered, her eyes misting.

“I'll go with Father,” Amelia offered.

“No, Rachel can handle it,” John said firmly. “You've got that babe to worry about now.”

Daniel looked stunned by the news of his injured friend. Rachel went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She knew how much the Indian meant to him. “Are you coming?” she asked softly.

He glanced at her, then nodded.

“We'll see you there,” she said.

John and Rachel left for the mission, with Will Thornton and Daniel following on horseback not far behind them.

As their wagon wheels trundled along the uneven road to the mission, Rachel's thoughts turned to Black Hawk. She felt a tightening in her chest as she pictured the brave lying in bed, bruised and bleeding from a gunshot wound. Would he be all right? She remembered the intensity of his ebony gaze, his expression when they'd locked glances.

Suddenly, she wanted to get to the mission in a hurry. She wanted to help the brave and ensure that he was safe. The thought that he might die made her blood run cold.

It seemed to take forever for them to travel to the mission. John Dempsey sprang from the wagon as soon as it stopped in front of the infirmary. Rachel followed him closely after relinquishing the reins to the horse to Will, who rode up almost immediately.

There was an uneasy quietness about the sickroom. As she entered the chamber, Rachel noticed immediately that two Indians stood along the far wall. John Dempsey was already bent over his patient. Someone had lit an oil lamp, and a golden glow fell over the room's interior and across the patient's bed.

John looked up as his daughter approached. “Hurry, Rachel,” he said, “I need my forceps and a lancet.”

Rachel nodded, and quickly went to the supply cabinet for the requested instruments. She returned and set the lancet, the forceps, and fabric strips to wipe away the blood on the table at her father's side.

She gasped as she studied Black Hawk. Unconscious, he lay on the bed, his pallor sickly, his face bruised and swollen. His chest was scratched, his shoulder torn open by gunpowder and shot. Blood oozed from the wound, quickly saturating the cloth that John Dempsey placed upon the injury site.

No!
she cried silently.

Swallowing back a cry of horror, Rachel ran back to the cabinet for more bandages. Then, she filled a basin of water and set it on the work stand within her father's reach. Her pulse pounded as she worked, her thoughts with Black Hawk.

“Will he be all right?” Daniel asked as he entered the room.

John Dempsey kept his gaze on his patient, his brow furrowed with concentration. “If I have anything to say about it, he will,” he said quietly.

Watching her father work, Rachel felt light-headed and slightly sick to her stomach. She glanced toward Daniel and saw the strain in his expression. “He has the best doctor there is,” she told him encouragingly.

Daniel tore his gaze from his injured friend to look at his sister-in-law. “I know he has.” He offered her a weak smile.

John's careful examination of Black Hawk took a long time. Besides the bullet wound, the Indian had contusions to his chest, his arms, and his legs. Rachel wondered if he had suffered any internal injuries.

She felt the tension within her grow as she waited for her father's instructions and some sign that Black Hawk would recover. “Father, will he survive?”

Ignoring her question, John Dempsey gestured toward the opposite side of the bed as he looked at his daughter. “Rachel, I need you to stand here.”

“Father, will be he all right?” she asked.

“He'll live,” he said, and Rachel was relieved. Heart thundering, she skirted the bed.

“Daniel, please tell Black Hawk's friends they will have to leave now,” John said. “Tell them to wait in the next room.”

Daniel spoke briefly to the braves in Ojibwa. One warrior seemed to argue with Daniel, until a quiet word from the second one ended the discussion. The Indians left, with one brave lingering behind briefly to gaze at Black Hawk with concern. Rachel gave him a smile of encouragement.

“Is there anything I can do?” Daniel asked when the Indians had gone. John shook his head. “Then I'll wait with the Ojibwa in the other room.” The doctor didn't answer.

Rachel gave Daniel a nod to tell him that it was fine if he left. Then she returned her attention to Black Hawk.

Her stomach rolled as Rachel watched her father probe Black Hawk's open wound. “Is it bad?” she asked, upset by the sight of the injured man.

“Bad enough,” John said. “I need you to take these instruments and hold open the wound for me.”

Rachel felt the blood drain from her face. I
can do this. I will do this.