A Most Unsuitable Match (33 page)

The dark eyebrows drew together, almost as if it hurt to think. Lamar’s lips parted. “Sssss . . .”

“Yes?” Fannie said. “Samuel? Where is Sam?”

“Gone,” Lamar said. “Sam’s . . . gone.”

“Fannie.”

At the sound of her name, Fannie started awake. Edmund was on one knee beside the chair where she’d been keeping vigil over Lamar. She smiled and reached out to touch his cheek. “You’re back.”

He took her hand. “I’m taking you to the boarding house and I want you to sleep until you awaken naturally. And if you’re still tired, I want you to sleep some more. Do you hear me?”

Fannie opened her mouth to argue. She had to stay there. By Lamar’s side. Didn’t Edmund understand? What if Lamar awakened and she wasn’t there? What if he said something about Samuel and they missed it? But instead of protesting, she leaned into him as weariness washed over her.

Dear Edmund. He cradled her head on his shoulder and stood up with her in his arms. She was vaguely aware of low voices and things being moved around in the clinic, but she was safe with Edmund . . . and so tired. And then . . . she was in her room at Abe’s . . . sleeping.

Fannie burrowed into her pillow and tried to ignore the sunshine pouring through the tiny window on the back wall of her room. Caught between sleep and wakefulness, she inwardly groused at Hannah for failing to draw the drapes. She wanted to sleep. Didn’t Hannah realize. . . . She heard men’s voices just outside her door. Her eyes flew open. And she remembered. She was back at Abe’s and the voices were other boarders headed toward the dining room for breakfast.

She lifted herself up on one elbow and looked through the window. Surely not breakfast. Perhaps lunch. What time was it? And Lamar—was there news? Throwing back her comforter, she sat up, then shivered and snatched the comforter back around her. She could see her own breath rising in the cold air.
The last boat . . . what am I going to do if the last boat is leaving and Lamar’s still . . . and Samuel . . .
Closing her eyes, she willed herself to stop worrying.

The comforter still wrapped around her, she reached for her shoes and stockings, perched atop her trunk.
Did Edmund take them off?
She had a flannel nightgown on. Apparently he’d taken her dress off . . . and petticoats . . . and tucked her in. Her cheeks blazed. Pulling her stockings out of her shoes, she pulled first one, then the other on. Finally letting the comforter go, she hopped up and scurried to the washstand crammed between the doorway and the wall and poured water from pitcher into bowl.
How long will it be now, before the water in the pitcher has a crust of ice over it every morning?
The idea made her shiver even more as she bent to splash her face. She peered into the cloudy mirror above the washstand. She looked horrible. Pale. Tired. Frazzled.
And Edmund took down my hair.

Poor Edmund. He had to be exhausted. She’d gather up some victuals and hurry back to the clinic. Making quick work of her toilette, Fannie made up the bed and reached for her shawl, then thought better of it and pulled the hooded wool cape Mrs. Tatum had provided out of her trunk.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Mrs. Tatum. I didn’t know I’d need it, but I’m so glad I have it.

Thoughts of Mrs. Tatum made her think about the grave in Sioux City. Did Hannah have a grave marker by now?
Hannah. I still miss you . . . do you see me? Lord . . . I need help. With everything. Samuel’s missing . . . Lamar’s hurt . . . and Edie. I don’t even know what to say about her except . . . help. Nothing’s happening fast enough. I can’t stay here through a winter . . . I can’t . . . can I?

Draping her cape over her arm, Fannie closed and locked the door to her little room, then made her way across the yard, past the long tables, and in the back door of Abe’s lean-to kitchen. Her stomach growled. She inhaled with appreciation.
Stew for lunch . . . maybe for supper, too.
Reaching into a basket of biscuits, she took one, poured herself a cup of coffee, and then set to gathering up food to take over to the clinic. But then she heard someone calling for her from the next room. Peering around the doorjamb into the dining area, she saw Patrick sitting at the table in the corner, a pad of paper before him, a ruler in one hand and a pencil in the other.

“How did you know it was me?”

“You were talking to yourself,” he said with a grin. “And Abe doesn’t clatter around as much when he’s in the kitchen.”

“Clatter?! I do not clatter,” Fannie teased. “And since you mentioned him, where is Abe?”

“Helping Pa with his other patient. They left me here to tell you to come over but to eat breakfast first.”

Another patient? Fannie thought back. Vaguely, she remembered other voices and things being moved around as Edmund carried her out the door. “Have you been here since breakfast? I didn’t realize how tired I was. But I feel better now. I’m just gathering up some food to take over. Since Abe is over there, too, maybe we’ll just take the whole stew pot. Your father probably hasn’t eaten. You know how he is sometimes.”

Patrick nodded.

A few minutes later Fannie and Patrick headed for the clinic. They were halfway there when Patrick said, “Pa said I could tell you the rest once we were on our way over.”

Fannie only heard one word of “the rest.”
Samuel.

Edmund met them at the clinic door. Abe appeared and took the stewpot out of Fannie’s hand. He and Patrick retreated to the kitchen with the food. Edmund insisted Fannie sit down beside him on the bench where patients usually waited. He had to keep repeating things. Fannie couldn’t seem to take it all in with only one telling.

Lame Bear’s sons had found Samuel unconscious at the bottom of a ravine below the trail. His horse must have thrown him in the melee. When Edmund called the horrible fall a blessing, Fannie looked at him in disbelief. But then, as he went on to explain what had happened, Fannie began to realize he might be right. Samuel and Lamar had gotten caught up in the middle of a skirmish between two different bands of Blackfeet. If the Bloods had found Samuel, they would have taken his horse, scalped him, and left him to die.

“But Lame Bear’s sons were on the other side of the battle,” Edmund said. “They didn’t recognize Samuel because it got dark, but when they picked their way down into the ravine to head back toward their own camp, they found him and remembered him from that day here in Fort Benton.

“They said their father wouldn’t have wanted harm to come to one of ‘White Sparrow’s friends,’ so they couldn’t just leave Sam out there to die.”

White Sparrow?
Lame Bear called her White Sparrow? Fannie shook her head. “But they ignored Lamar? He’s my friend, too.”

“Bear took a horse back up the trail to get Lamar, but he was already gone. Turley and Bud must have come along by then. When they all got back to camp, Lame Bear wanted to bring Samuel here, but Owl, Eagle, and Bear refused. They made a good case for what would happen if the three of them were seen with an injured white man who’d obviously been in a scrap with Indians. So . . . they compromised. They took Samuel to Edie’s.”

“Edie’s?!”

“Uh-huh. They dumped him on her doorstep and then made a lot of racket to get someone to come to the door.”

“I want to see him.” Fannie started to get up. Edmund put his hand on her arm. “Remember how swollen Lamar’s face was a few days ago? Samuel looks worse. His fever is high and he isn’t making a lot of sense right now when he tries to talk, but I don’t think he has any broken bones. He’s young and strong. He has all that . . . and our prayers . . . in his favor.”

Fannie nodded. She understood exactly what Edmund was saying.
I don’t know if he’s going to live.

The left side of Samuel’s once-handsome face looked as white as death. The right sported a ridge of swelling and the blackest eye she’d ever seen. A neat row of stitches ran just under the curve of one eyebrow. Another row began at the edge of Sam’s scalp and disappeared somewhere near the crown of his head.

Edmund did his best to reassure her. “A few nasty scars are a small price to pay after what he’s been through.”

Fannie looked across Samuel’s still body to where Lamar lay, sleeping peacefully, the swelling in his face almost gone, his wounds healing.

“Arrows?”

“Only one,” Edmund said. “In his right thigh. A flesh wound.”

“Then . . . why . . . why does he look so . . .”

“He fell a long way, Fannie. A very long way.” Edmund cleared his throat. “I don’t like the fact that he hasn’t moved his legs since he came in. There could be other damage we can’t see. The brain is a complex organism. We just have to wait.”

Patrick came to the door between the clinic and the living quarters. “Edie helped me,” he called softly. “There’s food ready, if anybody’s interested in eating.”

Fannie whirled about. Edie stood silhouetted in the lamplight, standing just behind Patrick. When Fannie met her gaze, she turned away and retreated into the kitchen.

Fannie glanced at Edmund for an explanation.

“Pete drove the wagon and Edie rode in the back with Sam.” He paused. “The team was about to drop in their traces when they pulled up.” He took her hand. “Come into the kitchen. Eat something.”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait here. You go ahead. You must be ravenous.”

“All right then, don’t eat. But Lamar and Samuel don’t need you right now.” He squeezed her hand. “She came all this way, Fannie. She’s stayed, and you’re a big part of the reason. So talk to her.”

With a little nod, Fannie followed Edmund through the door. Her heart pounding, she stepped into the room. Edie was standing at the stove, stirring the pot of bubbling stew Fannie and Patrick had brought over from Abe’s.

“Pete already downed a bowl and headed out back. He’s real worried about the team.”

Edie kept talking, reporting on the whereabouts of Abe—gone back to the hostelry—and Patrick—with Pete—in a tone of voice Fannie hadn’t heard. Edie had been calm and seemingly in complete control before. Now she seemed nervous and somehow less imposing than Fannie remembered. While Edie chattered, Fannie glanced at Edmund. He nodded toward the table. Fannie recognized Samuel’s Bible and, lying atop it, a letter. The letter Samuel had carried with him for Edith LeClerc. Fannie glanced at the nervous woman standing at Edmund’s stove.