Ashes and Memories (22 page)

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Thaddeus Stevens watched as Emma stretched her back wearily. She’d been leaning over an injured man’s bed, and now she straightened, blowing a stray lock of auburn hair out of her eyes.

“They’re all resting,” she said with a wan smile.

Thaddeus swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to notice the way her mannish shirt stretched over womanly curves.

What he needed was a distraction. Eight hours working side by side with Emma, watching her competence and her compassion, was more than any man should be expected to endure.

Wrapping his bloodied instruments in a towel, he carried them to a table in the corner and began washing them.

“I never would have been able to care for all of them without your help,” he told her with a kind smile. “As you can see, no one else in this town came forward. They’re all either huddled in their houses, equally fearful of the Garrett gang and Reece MacBride or they’re out tearing up the countryside searching for the outlaws. All of them are more concerned with their own hides and their property than human lives.”

“Why did they do it?” she asked, her voice small and weary. “I never dreamed --”

Thaddeus looked up at her sharply. “You can’t blame yourself." But she would, he knew. It was the way she was made, responsible, honorable, idealistic.

“Reece blames me,” Emma replied bitterly.

He cringed at the sound of Reece MacBride’s given name on her lips.

“Well, Reece isn’t the kind of man to take the blame himself." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he didn’t think he’d succeeded.

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“Don’t defend him,” he said more harshly than he’d intended. Suddenly chagrined, he turned back to his instruments, drying each one with great care.

 “I guess I just don’t understand how they could have done it. I mean, they’re all so frightened of Reece and his men. Why would they deliberately defy him?”

Thaddeus sat wearily at a nearby table, signaling for Emma to do the same. “They are peaceful, law-abiding people who owe their livelihoods and even their lives to MacBride. They resent it to a degree, but it’s easier just to go along than to make trouble.”

Emma sat in the chair he’d indicated. “I know, that’s why it doesn’t make sense.”

“Well,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an effort to stem the beginnings of a headache, “yours is a powerful voice.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am very serious, Emma,” he told her sincerely. “You have no way of knowing just how much power you could wield in this town. A woman standing up to Reece MacBride, I think you shamed them somewhat. And the things you printed made sense. They were the truth.”

“You just said it wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t." He reached across the table and wrapped a hand around her arm, gazing into her wide blue eyes, trying to smother the yearning inside him, trying to concentrate on the conversation and not the pain in his chest at the realization that she would never return his affection. She hardly even saw him at all, or if she did she thought of him as a friend and nothing more.

“Reece and his men keep this town safe from outside trouble,” he went on, “but I guess the town didn’t feel he could do so this time. I don’t know.”

“How did you end up here?” she asked.

It was the first time she’d even asked him about himself, and his heart leaped with hope before he regained control. A man could look into a woman’s eyes and tell what was in her heart, and there was room in her Emma’s for only one man, God help her.

“You said before that you arrived here on the same day as Reece,” Emma pointed out.

Thaddeus removed his hand from her arm and leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh, not sure he wanted to return to the place where her question led him. But once the door to that part of his life was open, he found he had to step inside. “I met Reece MacBride a long time ago - back in seventy-one. He saved my life.”

Emma sat up straighter, obviously stunned by his pronouncement. “Where? What happened?”

He shrugged. “I had already started west, but I hadn’t made it any farther than St. Louis. That’s where we met.”

She leaned forward, her eyes ablaze with impatience. “Are you going to tell me the rest?”

Thaddeus smiled ironically, remembering. “It was a very bad time for me. My wife... my wife had just died in childbirth.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said, blinking against the tears that formed in her eyes.

“I didn’t take it very well,” he said with a humorless laugh. “If I couldn’t save my own wife, what kind of doctor was I?”

“But --”

“Don’t say it,” he said, raising a hand to silence her. “Blame doesn’t matter. As I said, I made it as far as St. Louis -- well, almost to St. Louis. I made it to the river anyway. And something peculiar happened.”

“What?”

“It was the most awesome sight I’d ever seen, a roaring, living thing. I’d seen rivers before, but that river.... I don’t know, it made me realize how insignificant I really was. You won’t understand, but it spoke to me.”

“I do understand,” Emma assured him. “I grew up near the Mississippi. I know what it can do to your soul.”

“It called to mine,” he said with a feeble smile, avoiding her eyes as he recalled that dark, desperate might. “I’d never thought of killing myself before, but there was the river and the night.... I was about to jump in. I was so close to the river I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the water rushing past. I couldn’t, but somehow I heard a man groan.”

“You ever dig a bullet out before?" Reece’s feeble voice asked from the past.

“It was coming from the brush close by,” Thaddeus continued as the numbing cold of that night seeped into his bones. “He’d been wounded, shot in the leg. I never asked why, but I have a few suspicions.”

“Let me get you to town, to a doctor,” he’d offered.

“No!" Reece’s voice returned, and the effort he’d put behind that word stole his breath. “No doctors. No town.”

“My guess is he was shot over a card game. Maybe someone accused him of cheating, got violent. He was close to shock from the loss of blood and the cold night air. I’d sworn I’d never practice medicine again after.... But I couldn’t let him bleed to death.”

“It sounds like you saved his life,” Emma commented.

“I guess you could say we’re even on that score,” Thaddeus agreed.

“What were you going to do, jump?" Reece asked. “It’s a damned cold night for a swim, doc.”

“I patched him up. He told me his men were supposed to meet him on the other side of the river at first light and then he was headed west. I didn’t see him for four years. We met again in Cheyenne, and he asked me to come along to Dakota Territory with him.”

“What made you decide to come?”

“What kind of life have you made for yourself, doc?" Reece asked.

Thaddeus looked into the other man’s eyes and saw the same ruthless determination he’d seen that night on the river bank. Reece MacBride was harder now, the darkness in his eyes more pronounced. But beyond the darkness, he recognized a little piece of himself in the other man, a common bond of pain and a need for forgetfulness.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed,” he said wryly, “Mr. MacBride is a very persuasive person,” he pointed out with a hint of amusement. “He made it sound like the grandest adventure since Lewis and Clark, like the answer to every dream and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I guess like him I needed something to believe in.”

“And why do you stay?”

“The people need me." He shrugged. “Everyone needs to be needed. Why are you still here?” he countered, though he thought he knew the answer. “MacBride hasn’t exactly made it easy for you.”

“Maybe I need to be needed, too. Or maybe I’m just afraid to trade the devil I know for one I don’t know.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re here,” he assured her.

“He’s such a strange, unhappy man,” she said wistfully. “Did you know he has a war medal?”

The longing in her voice sliced through him. He felt as if his heart were being ripped from his body. He pitied her, even as he envied Reece. She deserved so much more than Reece MacBride could ever give her, maybe more than he could give her himself. But he wouldn’t chew her up and spit her out like he knew Reece would. He wanted to warn her, but something told him she wouldn’t believe him.

“Yes, I know,” he replied stiffly.

“Has he ever talked about it or about the war?”

“Very little. He’s a very private man." He came to his feet with a tired sigh. “Well, I suppose we can relax for awhile. Why don’t you go home and get some rest.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’d rather stay here. You could --”

He could kick himself for his insensitivity. He’d noticed the yellow bruise on her cheek, and she’d told him about the attack, about the man she’d killed. He’d been overwhelmed with concern and horror. Thank God she’d been able to defend herself.

If only he had been the one to comfort her instead of Reece.

“No, Brody over there isn’t out of the woods yet,” he said. “I’ll watch him for a while.”

He lifted the basin and walked toward the back door to dispose of the bloodied water.

“Doctor?”

Her voice halted him, and he turned to face her. “Yes?”

“Do you suppose he was always like this? I mean, well, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know, Emma, I honestly don’t know.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Reece stepped out the front door of the saloon just before dusk and watched as Stanton and his men rode into town. He waited on the front porch until the horsemen pulled to a halt before him.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked Stanton, his breath coming out in white tufts of smoke in the cold, damp air.

The other man looked chagrined. He also looked like he hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours, and Reece instantly regretted his harsh tone.

“We never got word about the raid on the town, Mr. MacBride.”

Stanton motioned toward a horse that bore a body. Reece knew it was Grady without looking, and a knot of pain hardened in his chest. Grady had worked for him faithfully for nearly nine years, ever since he’d dragged the Irishman out of a brawl in a dockside tavern in Natchez. Reece had admired his tenacity as much as his skill with his fists, so he’d offered him a job.

“We found him just outside town,” one of the men Wilson had sent to search for Stanton said. “Garrett’s gang must’ve come across him on the way into town. That’s how it looked.”

“All right." Reece ran a hand across his chin, taking a moment to assimilate everything before speaking to Stanton again. “Did you suffer any casualties?”

“No sir,” Stanton told him. “We were too far away. They never spotted us and we never heard the shots nor nothing.”

“Good. You men get something to eat and rest awhile. I want everyone here in front of the saloon tomorrow morning at first light." He turned to look at the body, his gut clenching again as he thought of everything he’d been through with Grady, all the times Grady had proven his loyalty and his mettle. “Take Grady to the undertaker. Tell him I want the finest coffin he’s got. I’ll pay for it.”

The men dispersed slowly until Reece stood alone with Stanton. The other man swung out of his saddle and came to stand at the bottom of the porch.

“I want that bunch,” Stanton said angrily. “Grady was a good man.”

“No more than I do, I assure you,” Reece told him. “Tomorrow I want half the men to form a posse and scour the countryside. The rest will stay here and guard the town. Last night they lost five men to our two. Next time we’ll be ready for them, if there is a next time. There will be casualties on one side and one side only.”

“You want a posse, I’ll lead it.”

“Good,” Reece said with a smile. “Make sure the men rest up. If any of them would rather stay here and help guard the town, I know some of the men who fought Garrett and his gang last night would be glad for another shot at them.”

“Yes sir,” Stanton said, turning away.

“And Stanton,” Reece said, halting the other man. “You get some rest, too.”

Stanton nodded and led his horse away. Reece waited until Stanton disappeared into the livery stable before making his way up the street toward the hotel. The dining room was open for business. Doc Stevens’ hospital was set up in the lobby where it wouldn’t interfere with diners.

The sun was all but gone, and the chill that had been annoying during the day showed signs of growing brutal without the sun to temper it. He drew his duster closer around him, looking forward to a hot meal and coffee in the warm dining room.

But as much as a warm meal appealed to him, it was not the only thing that propelled him toward the hotel. He had to speak with Emma. He’d already had his men clean Emma’s room and dispose of the body, but he felt compelled to advise her not to go home until they could repair the door. She might be glad not to. Even with the body gone, the memories would still linger.

Of course, if he were honest with himself, he had to admit he wanted to see how she was now that some of the shock had worn off. He’d hated to leave her before she’d awakened this morning, but she’d been sleeping so soundly. He was the leader, and the town -- and more importantly his men -- had expected him to be there on the street at daybreak, surveying the damage and evaluating the situation.

She’d been avoiding him all day, or maybe he’d been avoiding her. At any rate, their paths hadn’t crossed. She’d been playing angel of mercy at the hotel and he’d been dealing with distraught merchants who should have had better sense than to break a condemned criminal out of
his
jail.
 

And while he was very aware that not all of them had been a party to the jailbreak, he couldn’t help but feel a certain animosity toward them. Nearly all of them had rallied on the steps of the jail the day before the break, thanks to Emma’s inflammatory newspaper. He just couldn’t seem to muster any real sympathy for their plight.

The acrid odor of ether and blood assaulted him the instant he opened the hotel door. Taken aback for a moment, Reece stood uncertainly, struggling to conquer the rush of memory that bombarded him. He swept the hat from his head, forcing himself to take deep breaths and concentrate on his surroundings, not the image of a field hospital that flashed into his mind at the sight of cots set up haphazardly in the hotel lobby.