A Journey of the Heart Collection (45 page)

“No-o-o!”

Emmie turned at the drawn-out wail. Mrs. DuBois screamed and beat at her daughter's restraining arms that held her from rushing to the ambulance.

“Major DuBois must be the officer who was killed,” Sarah whispered.

Emmie wanted to offer her condolences, but Jessica wouldn't welcome them. At least not yet. It was hard to believe that the strong, vibrant major had been felled by a Sioux arrow.

Isaac headed her way, but Mrs. DuBois and Jessica intercepted him. Emmie's stomach tightened as she watched Jessica burst into tears and throw herself into his arms. Emmie started toward them, but Jessica pulled back and grabbed his hand, then led him away with them. He glanced back toward Emmie with a helpless expression but followed after the two weeping women.

Emmie clutched her hands together and turned to go with Sarah. It meant nothing. He was just doing his duty. But what if Jessica told him Emmie's secret before she could?

Jessica shut the door behind Isaac, and he helped her remove her coat. He handed it to their striker, then helped Mrs. DuBois as she shrugged off her coat “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

What must Emmie have thought to see him go off like that? It had been his duty to see to his superior officer's family, and he'd respected the major. He hoped she could understand his situation. He followed the women into the parlor where a fire blazed and began to thaw his cold hands and feet. He'd been in the frigid weather for hours.

Mrs. DuBois had finally stopped crying. “I shall see about some food and hot coffee for you, Lieutenant. You look hungry and cold.”

He held his hands out to the comforting heat of the flame. “Thank you, ma'am, I wouldn't turn it down.”

Jessica sank onto the sofa. “I can't believe Father is gone. What will we do?”

He turned to face her and found her staring at him as if he were her last hope in the world. “Do you have family back east?”

“I would suffocate back there now. I expect Mother will return to her sister's home though. She's always hated it here.”

Her fixed stare made him shuffle, and he wished he
could make an escape. All he wanted was to see Emmie, to hold her and remember he was alive yet another day.

She wet her lips. “Isaac, have you thought of taking a wife? You could go far in the army with the right helper at your side.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Actually, I have. I plan to marry Emmie Croftner. I asked her last night. I hope you'll wish me well.”

Jessica inhaled, and moisture gleamed in her eyes. She inclined her head. “I think you should get to know her a little better before you tie the knot. There's something you don't know about her.”

“I know everything I need to know.” Did this have anything to do with the secret Emmie had said she must tell him? And how would Jessica know?

Mrs. DuBois returned with a plate of sandwiches and cups of steaming coffee. If there was something problematic in Emmie's past, he wanted to hear it from her lips.

TWO

E
mmie barely closed her eyes all night. She kept expecting to hear Sioux war cries as they attacked the fort.

As soon as breakfast was over, she went to grab her cloak. “Let's pay our respects to Mrs. DuBois and Jessica.”

Emmie's heart pounded and her mouth was dry as she and Sarah went across the parade ground to the major's quarters. Jessica was sure to have heard the news of the engagement by now. How would she react?

Isaac had gone out on duty first thing this morning, and she longed to tell him her secret. He wasn't anything like Monroe, and she prayed he would understand her dead husband had been no husband at all. She'd been gullible, oh so gullible.

Mrs. DuBois's striker answered the door and ushered them into the parlor. Most of the officers employed “strikers,” enlisted men who worked for them as servants on off-duty hours for a small compensation. Emmie had asked why Rand hadn't done the same instead of taking in a homeless waif like her. It was probably more expensive to pay for her expenses than to employ a striker. But Sarah had told her that Rand thought Sarah needed the company more than the physical help.

Jessica, sitting alone and staring out the window, looked up as they entered the room. Her eyes, swollen from crying, narrowed as she saw Emmie. “What do you want? Did you come here to gloat? You have everything you want.”

Emmie flinched. “We just want you to know how sorry we are about your father. I would like to be your friend, Jessica. Not your enemy. I never meant to hurt you.”

Her face flushing with rage, Jessica rose and
advanced toward them. “Get out! I don't want your condolences, and I certainly don't need your friendship.”

Emmie swallowed hard and put out a trembling hand to Jessica. “I've been praying for you. I don't know what hurt drives you so, but God does.”

Jessica's eyes filled with tears, but then her face hardened and she flushed a deeper red. “Get out!” She advanced toward them. “Get out—get out—get out!” She screamed the words at them. “I don't need your pity!”

Emmie and Sarah backed away hastily. “We truly are sorry,” Sarah said as they slipped out through the door. “We didn't come just to be polite.”

As the door shut in their faces, Emmie and Sarah looked at each other. Sarah was pale, and Emmie was sure she looked just as ravaged as her friend did.

“You know, I think you have a lot of insight,” Sarah said a few minutes later as they drew near their house. “I never really thought about why Jessica is like she is. There must be some hidden pain in her life that has shaped her.”

Emmie nodded, her gaze on a familiar set of shoulders. “There's Isaac.” She raised her gloved hand, and he altered his course and headed their way.

“I'll see you at the house.” Sarah waved at Isaac and took off briskly toward Officers' Row.

He reached Emmie. His face was reddened from the cold. “There you are. How are they holding up?”

“As poorly as you'd expect. It's so sad.” She saw his worried glance toward the DuBois residence. His kindness was one of the many things she loved about him.

“I've got to go out with the men. You said there was something you wanted to tell me?”

Why was he bringing it up now? Had Jessica already told him? Emmie searched his expression but couldn't discern any suspicion.

“There will be time later.” She squeezed his hand. “Hurry back home to me.”

“I will.” He pulled the house plans from inside his coat and pressed them into her hand. “You keep these and think of any changes you want.”

She clutched the paper and tucked it into her reticule where the wind couldn't snatch it away. The thought of a home with Isaac was the one bright spot in this tragic day.

Emmie blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. Baking pies had heated up the kitchen quite nicely this afternoon. She set the mincemeat pie on the table and cut a piece for Sarah. “See if it's any good.”

Sarah tasted it. “It's delicious! Let's take some to Amelia.”

“Should we wait for Morning Song to return from the Indian encampment?”

Sarah shook her head. “She won't be back until this evening.”

The women bundled up in warm cloaks and hurried toward Amelia's quarters. The wind snatched Emmie's breath away as soon as they stepped outside. As they approached Jake and Amelia's small cabin, they heard the baby's wail. The infant sounded frantic, and Emmie hastened her steps. What could be wrong with little Gabrielle?

They didn't bother to knock but opened the door and hurried to the bedroom, where the baby shrieked in her cradle. Amelia lay on the floor beside the bed, one arm reaching toward her tiny daughter.

“Amelia!” Sarah knelt beside her. “Quick, help me get her back into bed.” She grasped Amelia's shoulders
and Emmie lifted her legs. They managed to place her on the bed.

Emmie touched Amelia's skin. “She's burning up! You take care of Gabrielle, and I'll fetch Dr. Horton.”

Emmie flew out the door and across the parade ground. By the time she and the doctor returned, Sarah had managed to calm the baby with a cloth dipped in sugar water. The baby was sucking on it vigorously and making mewing sounds of contentment.

Dr. Horton frowned when he felt the heat radiating off Amelia's body. He quickly put his stethoscope to her chest and listened intently. Amelia muttered incoherently and moved restlessly in the bed.

“What is it?” Sarah bit her lip.

The doctor put his instruments away. “Pneumonia, I'm afraid. Her condition is very grave. We must try to reduce the fever. You need to sponge her down with tepid water. She won't like it, but it must be done.”

Emmie nodded. “I'll do it while you take care of the baby.”

Sarah nodded. “When Morning Song gets back, we can send her to the sutler's store for some tinned milk.”

Emmie warmed a pan of water to lukewarm and began to sponge Amelia's body.
Wring, wipe, wring,
wipe.
Over and over, Emmie wiped the damp cloth over Amelia. After an hour, Emmie felt as though her arms would fall off. But still her friend drifted in and out of consciousness, calling for Jacob and baby Gabrielle.

When Amelia finally fell into a fitful sleep, Emmie stepped outside the bedroom to speak with Morning Song and Sarah. Gabrielle wailed and wouldn't suck the cloth dipped in tinned milk anymore.

Morning Song had tears in her eyes. “I have extra milk if you wish me to feed her.”

Sarah quickly handed her the baby. “I wanted to ask earlier but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Hearing her cries hurts me when I could help.” Morning Song turned away to nurse the baby by the fire.

The doctor came in again, and Emmie followed him into the bedroom with Sarah on her heels. He listened to Amelia's chest again, then stepped back, his expression grave. “Unchanged. It's very serious. I've sent someone to fetch Jacob, but he hasn't returned yet.”

Morning Song slipped in behind Emmie. She had a cup of steaming liquid in her hands. “I wish to try some Sioux medicine. It is from the bark of a tree you call white oak.”

“Go ahead. There's nothing much I can do.” Dr.
Horton stepped toward the door. “I'll be back in an hour or so.”

Emmie lifted Amelia's head and shoulders onto her lap while Morning Song spooned the steaming liquid into her mouth. Some ran out the corners of her mouth, but she managed to swallow a little. Emmie wiped Amelia's mouth and eased her back against the pillows.

Sarah wrung her hands. “I wish Jacob would get back. I'm so afraid.”

Amelia moaned and both women knelt beside her bed. She opened her eyes and they looked bright and blue against the pure white of her face. Those blue eyes shone with love and a strange joy. Emmie swallowed hard and fought a rising sense of panic as Amelia smiled at someone just past Emmie's shoulder. Emmie almost turned around to look, but she knew no one was there.