Dream Weaver (34 page)

She shook Christian's shoulder. "Christian! I smell smoke!"

Mumbling in his sleep, Christian turned onto his back, then opened his eyes, the sheet twisted around his naked body. "What's amiss?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"Smoke!" She jumped out of bed. "What shall we do if the Indians burn the fort? Where can we go?"

Heavy-eyed, Christian raised up on his elbows and sniffed the air. "There are still many houses within the fort's environs, George Croghan's, for one." He sighed, sinking back onto the bed. "Poor Mr. Croghan. 'Tis hard he worked to build that house, but he probably isn't living there now. He owns another one near
Carlisle
."

"But don't you understand? We've got to leave! If the fort is on fire--"

 
"The fort is not on fire." He spoke slowly and distinctly. "Believe me, the British won't let the Indians get close enough to even attempt it." He reached for her wrist, drawing her back to bed. "Pray don't worry about the Indians. They can do us but little harm while we remain inside the fort."

She sat down on the bed next to him, pushing her hair back from her face. "You seem quite calm," she said in a shaky voice. "Calm? I suppose so. I'm not going to worry about something beyond my control, especially when I know Ecuyer and the entire garrison can handle any Indian threat." He drew her closer, easing her down on the bed. "Please, darling," he whispered, "I don't want you to be concerned. Now, if I'm not mistaken, we must arise soon. But we still have time to ourselves, so let's not waste it."

Christian leaned over her, feathering kisses on her face and neck. He kissed her mouth, hard and long, his hand moving along the curves of her body.

She responded to his kisses, his caresses, loving him so, wondering how much longer they would have together, to make love. To live.

Chapter Twenty-three

Christian sat down beside Gwen in the soldier's mess hall, speaking without preamble. "I always admit it when I'm wrong."

Gwen peered at him as she buttered a slice of bread. "Wrong about what?"

"I've come to see the wisdom of your advice to Judith Holloway," he said, cutting a slice of pork. "I realize having a baby lie on his stomach entails a certain amount of risk. 'Tis wise to have the baby sleep on his back or his side, a fact I'll remember in future."

"So, Dr. Norgard, could I share your medical practice? And the fees, of course." She paused, the bread halfway to her mouth. "Good idea, don't you think?"

"I believe you're doing as well as any doctor, with all the help you've given me in the smallpox hospital." Frowning, Christian rubbed his hand across his forehead. "I wish there were some miracle that could help me save every one of my patients. Another one died last night, you know."

Gwen nodded, as dejected as Christian. "You're doing as much as any man could do. And honey, while we're speaking of medical advice, I have some for you. I wish you wouldn't work so hard and would eat better, too." As she spoke, she ran a worried glance over him, observing the dark circles under his eyes, the lines of exhaustion etched around his mouth. "And another thing--try to get more sleep at night."

"We still have our smallpox patients. I must take care of them."

"Well, try to get more rest, okay?"

"Aye, doctor, whatever you say." As if attempting to throw off his despair, Christian grinned at her, his look warm and tender.

Something told Gwen he wouldn't follow her advice. Within a few minutes, she heard talk and the clatter of boots on the puncheon floor as others gathered at the long table. After greeting the officers, Gwen returned to her breakfast, anxious to get to the hospital, well aware she didn't follow her own advice. She and Christian would both fare better if they could learn to relax more.

He gave her a sidelong glance. "Mayhap you should follow your advice about resting, especially in your condition."

She stared at him, nearly choking on her tea. "My condition?" He knows! her conscience told her. What had made her think she could keep this secret from him?

"Dear love," he said, "you think I don't recognize the symptoms? As a doctor, I have seen these signs many times." He clasped her hand in his. "But with my wife, they have a special meaning."

Gwen squeezed his hand, happy to have her news out in the open, tired of trying to keep it to herself.

By now, every place in the mess hall was taken. Talk and laughter filled the vast room, combined with the scrape of cutlery on pewter platters. Gwen tried to shut out the background noise, concentrating on Christian and the others at her table.

Richard took a seat across from them with a warm smile for Gwen and a curt nod in Christian's direction. "Gw--" He coughed. "Mistress Norgard. Pray don't be concerned about these few isolated Indian attacks at the fort. The savages can cause us but little harm." He dipped his fork into his scrambled eggs, his gaze on her face.

"The Indians? I don't give them a thought," Gwen lied. "We've been much too busy in the smallpox hospital to leave time for worry."

"The smallpox hospital," Richard mused aloud. "'Tis a rough life for such a pretty young lady." He gave Christian a hard look before turning back to Gwen, all other talk ceasing at their table. "A lady such as you should be gracing the ballrooms of
London
."

"I haven't heard my wife complain," Christian said in an even voice, but Gwen could tell from a tightening of his facial muscles and the curled fist in his lap that he was one step away from losing his temper. Usually calm and cool, Christian was beginning to show the stress he'd been under for the past several weeks. Lack of sleep didn't help, either. She wondered how much longer he could continue to work under such a strain, this tremendous pressure of caring for the smallpox patients--sick and dying--that was wearing him down, both physically and mentally.

She switched her attention to Richard. "The ballrooms of
London
. Don't know if I could maintain those late hours. Anyway, I like to keep busy. Stay out of trouble that way," she said with a smile, trying to take the sting from her words.

Lieutenant Caldwell spoke up, obviously to ease the tension. "How d'you fare in the smallpox hospital, Dr. Norgard? Have you fewer cases now?"

Christian exchanged an anxious glance with her. "If anything, our responsibilities have increased. If only we could inoculate people, we might rid ourselves of this dread disease."
Caldwell
raised his mug to his mouth, taking a cautious sip of the steaming brew. "I fear you have a task ahead of you."

"Aye, but 'tis something to strive for." Christian chewed and swallowed, his mouth tight with worry. She wished they were alone so she could hold him close to her heart and tell him he was doing more than anyone could ever be expected to do. He was the most wonderful man in the world, her husband. Full of love for him, she watched from the corner of her eye as he nursed his tea.

Despite all the hardships, all the privations of her life now, she realized she was gradually getting used to this time. In many respects she considered life better now than in the twenty-first century. There was more courtesy and civility, more thinking of others. And another thing she knew, as if she needed a reminder--she could never live without Christian. She wanted only to be with him for the rest of her life.

* * *

That same afternoon, Gwen worked alongside Christian in the hot, smelly hospital. She shuddered as a burst of gunfire erupted outside the fort. "Christian, did you hear that?" Her hands shaking, she set a flask onto a stand, nearly spilling the vitriol.

Three cots away, Christian looked up from spreading a salve on a young boy's arm. "Aye, rifle shots from across the
Ohio
. Pray do not worry." He set the salve aside and dabbed a cloth across the child's forehead. "Our men are more than a match for the Indians."

"But this firing has been going on all day!" Fear and desperation roiled inside her.

"So what would you have us do?" He moved away from the patient, weaving his way among the cots until he reached her. He gestured toward the stairs. "Shall we leave the fort? And if we depart, where shall we go?"

"Well, I--"

"We are as safe here as anywhere else, safer, I should say. Captain Ecuyer can handle the Indian menace, I do assure you." His face gentling, he cupped her cheeks. "My dear love, try to dismiss your concerns."

"Okay, I'll try." Might as well take a rocket ship to Mars, she thought, knowing her worries would nag her during the day and keep her awake at night.

She was right, too, she found that evening.

"Did you hear several soldiers were killed this morning when they went to pick apples outside the fort?" she asked Christian as they prepared for bed.

He nodded, his eyelids heavy from lack of sleep. He turned away to hang his shirt on a peg. "Aye, it pays to stay inside the fort. Here, we can feel safe."

Oh, no we can't! A knot of fear twisted inside her stomach as she grabbed the top of the washstand for support. Glad that Christian had his back to her, she wondered how she could ever convince him of the danger from Indians. When he saw the threat, it might be too late.

* * *

The Indian attacks on the fort increased with such ferocity Christian agonized how much longer the fort could hold out. Mayhap Gwen had the right of it, he fretted, trying to appear optimistic for her sake. Yet worry about his wife kept him awake at night. What if the Indians took her prisoner? Oh, God, it didn't bear thinking about.

* * *

Richard stood on the battlements, directing the grenadiers as they lit the fuses of hand grenades and hurled them into a nearby ditch, where several Indians lurked. Seconds later, he heard the answering explosion and hoped the grenades had hit their mark. The Indians had proved more ferociously cunning than he'd ever imagined.

What had happened to Bouquet? With no word from the outside world for weeks, Richard had no idea if Bouquet's army could still come to their rescue...or if the Indians had defeated him.

* * *

Unable to sleep, Gwen tossed and turned in bed, crazed out of her mind about saving Christian's life...and her own. If they both died in the Indian siege, then why had she made her trip back in time? To know Christian's love again, she answered herself, because even death could not take his love from her.

She pressed her fist to her mouth, vowing she would save Christian's life. God, she prayed in nighttime silence, please take care of my husband. She'd do her part by ensuring he never left the hospital, except for meals and at bedtime. She'd keep him by her side day and night, even if she had to throw herself in front of him.

* * *

"Hear those screams!" Gwen's breath came hard and fast, her body trembling. In the steamy August heat, she and Christian worked side-by-side, tending to patients in the smallpox hospital while the Indian attacks raged outside. The British wounded moaned on the open ground, adding to her fears. If only she could cover her ears and run, do anything to escape the heartrending cries.

"Soldiers must be suffering terribly," Christian said as he set his lancet down. "I can't stay here to tend to the smallpox patients when those men need me more." He grabbed his medicine chest from a stand. "I'm going out to the field."

"No!" Gwen clutched his arm. "Please don't go out there! Don't you know how dangerous it is? You might get hurt or-or k-k-killed!” She had to keep him with her, must keep him safe.

"What kind of doctor do you think I am?" he snapped, breaking free. "What kind of a man?" He threw her a look of exasperation, then strode on.

Gwen caught up with him, grabbing his arm again. "Don't go! Stay here!"

He jerked his arm back. "Gwen, for God's sake, can't you see those soldiers need me?" Grimly silent, he spun around, striding toward the stairs.

God, please help me, Gwen prayed.

Swallowing convulsively, she pounded up the stairs and emerged onto the grounds of the fort, several feet behind Christian.

Her gaze covered the open ground, and she saw--her worst nightmare! Arrows from the banks of the Allegheny zipped through the air, hitting soldiers at the ramparts. Howitzers banged out shells that arced across the river and exploded on the other side. Blood-curdling shrieks from the Indians told her they'd found their target. And God! the women and children in their crowded barracks cried, their heartrending screams blasting her eardrums.