Between Two Worlds (25 page)

“You look beautiful.” Delaney mouthed the words through the glass
and then went on her way.

As she strolled by Hurley’s Market, a horse in the street spooked
and reared up. Everyone stopped to watch as its rider expertly turned the mount
in circles until he calmed. She observed the cowboy with admiration. Her
eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when the rugged cowpoke looked
directly at her and tipped his well-worn Stetson. She was beginning to find that
the men in 1888 were definitely more chivalrous and attentive to the female
persuasion than those in 2012. Most of them, anyway. Her blood ran cold when she
thought of the brutal Warren Hooper.

When someone tapped her on the shoulder, she spun around and came
face-to-face with one of the two men she was on her way to see. The
curly-headed Irishman greeted her, “Hello again, miss. Off to see Doc Whitman,
are ye?”

“Yes, but I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been wanting to get you
alone for a few minutes.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “Those are some sweet words, lass. If only I was
thirty years younger…” When she rolled her eyes in jest, he said, “I knew I
couldn’t escape ye indefinitely, so I may as well give in. I have the feelin’
I’m in for an ear bendin’, but I’ll take me chances. Follow me.”

Donovan hustled her down a side street she hadn’t been on before.
They walked up a slight incline, and a small park with some wooden benches and
a few trees came into view. He offered her a seat on one of the benches and
wiped his forehead with a hankie pulled from his vest pocket. “Now,” he panted,
“How do ye think I can help ye with this situation you’ve found yerself in?”

She gazed deeply into his big emerald eyes. “First of all, tell me
about Mrs. O’Reilly.”

Donovan looked perplexed. “Beg yer pardon?”

“Mrs. Fiona O’Reilly,” Delaney said, staring. “She’s the lady who
passed away recently at Charlotte’s boarding house. I’m told you knew her.”

“Ah, yes. Good ole’ Fiona. We were acquainted. She was Irish, too.
With a name like Fiona, she’d have to be.”

“I know she was Irish. Charlotte said you were more than
acquainted. She said you were friends. Did you know my mother’s maiden name was
also O’Reilly?”

Donovan’s bushy brows knitted together. “How would I know that,
Miss Marshall? I just met ye a few days ago. Do ye think I somehow became privy
to that information without yer knowledge?”

Delaney prodded her finger into his chest. “Yes. As a matter of
fact, I do.”

He feigned hurt.

“I think you
do
know my mother was an O’Reilly, because Sam
McKinney knew my mother was of Celtic descent. And somehow he just happened to
be waiting for me outside my office three days ago, and
somehow
I ended
up here and living in the same house Mrs. Fiona O’Reilly lived in. Don’t you
find that more than coincidence?” She stabbed him in the chest with her finger
again.

He chuckled. “Miss Marshall, I told ye the other day. Samuel
McKinney would be three hundred years old if he lived today. Now we both know
that can’t be possible. Why do ye insist on imagining he’s alive, drivin’ cabs,
and that the two of us are in cahoots together? That’s not possible.
I
don’t
even know what a cab is, so how would ‘ole Samuel know how to drive one?”

“You know what can’t be possible?” she challenged. “The fact that
I crossed a bridge outside of town that has somehow disappeared. And the little
matter of my time traveling from 2012 back to 1888. That’s what’s not possible!”
An unexpected tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her
cheek. “And something else. I know you and Sam
are
in cahoots together.
I feel it in here.” She pushed her hand into her gut. “I don’t know why you’re tormenting
me this way, but I’ve got a life back, I mean forward—oh, you know what I mean!
I have a life in Phoenix and you’re keeping me from it. Are you going to tell
me what’s going on here, or not?” Her voice had risen to almost shriek level.

A lady walking by with her dog threw them a curious glance. “Are
you all right, miss?” she asked. She raised her parasol and tottered forward, as
if she were going to hit Donovan over the head with it.

Delaney nodded and took several deep breaths. Donovan tipped his
cap and smiled at the dog walker. “Everything’s fine here, ma’am,” he said. “Go
on about yer business. Ye ’ole busy body,” he grumbled under his breath.

“I heard that!” the lady retorted. “Come, Princess.” She and her
prissy dog stuck their noses in the air and walked on.

When Donovan met Delaney’s wet eyes, a look of compassion filled
his round face. He placed his hand over hers. “Please believe me, lass. I’d do
nothing to hurt ye intentionally. I’m sorry yer upset. I just ask that ye be patient.
I’ll explain it all to ye in due time.”

Her gaze flew to his. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head and glanced around. “Oh, boy. Yer gonna get me
in trouble, for sure. I shouldn’t have said anything a‘tall. Pretty women are
always the downfall of weak fellas like me. Well, that and the drink.”

Before either could say more, a boy riding a high-wheeled bicycle entered
the park. His loud hyena-like laugh caught their attention. Another boy ran
alongside him swinging a stick around in the air. Delaney gawked. She’d never
seen such a contraption before, only in pictures in the history books. The
front wheel was huge, at least three feet in diameter, and the pedals were
attached to it with no freewheeling mechanism. The back wheel was small to make
the bike look like it should be in a circus parade. The youngster riding it sat
high above the center of gravity, his legs pumping strenuously in order to climb
the incline.

“I’ve never seen such an unusual bicycle in real life,” she said,
momentarily distracted from her conversation with Donovan.

“That’s the banker’s son. Only the rich can afford such a toy.” He
crossed his feet and leaned against the back of the bench, observing the
youngsters as they came near.

When the bicycle crossed the path in front of them, the boy with
the stick banged on the large wheel. The stick caught in the spokes, and his
hand went in with it. The boy howled like a wolf as the spokes tore at his
hand. The entire apparatus rotated forward on its front axle. With the rider’s
legs trapped under the handlebars, there was nowhere for that boy to go but
down.

“That one’s takin’ a header!” Donovan yelled, hopping up from the
bench.

Both youngsters landed in a heap at Delaney’s feet. She and
Donovan dropped to the boys’ sides. The one who’d gotten caught in the spokes
cried and held his mangled hand against his chest while the other lay barely
conscious, bleeding from a gash in his scalp.

“We’ve got to get them to the clinic!” She knelt and attempted to
lift the child with the injured  hand, but he screamed for her not to touch
him.

“I’ll get him,” said a deep voice behind her.

Nineteen

Delaney looked up and saw a tall drink of water with a handlebar
moustache peering down at her. He wore a silver star on his leather vest
pocket. The man touched a finger to the brim of his cowboy hat in quick
greeting.

“Hush now,” he told the moaning boy. “I’ll get you to the Doc’s.
He’ll fix ya up.” He lifted the boy and swept him into his long arms. “Donovan,
you get the other one.”

“You bet, Sheriff.” He’d already gotten the banker’s son to his
feet. Delaney rose from her crouch and went around to the other side of the
boy. He was semi-conscious. Blood matted his light brown hair. She and Donovan
swung his arms around their necks and hauled him down the hill with his feet
dragging on the ground, leaving a trail of dust in the air.

Sheriff Bowman was already in the waiting room telling Gabriel
what he thought had happened when Delaney and Donovan arrived with the second
child.

“Bring them both into my examination room.” Gabriel strode into
his bedroom and carried out a chair. “Lay Tommy on the table,” he told Donovan.
“Sheriff, you can put your son in this chair.”

The boy with the bloodied hand was the sheriff’s son. This was a
sobering introduction to the lawman, Delaney thought. Bowman gently deposited
his boy in the chair and smoothed his hair down with a tender hand and wiped a
tear from his cheek. “Doc Whitman’s going to take care of you, son.” The
frightened child whimpered.

Delaney glanced at Jasmine lying on the cot in the corner and saw
that she was sleeping as sound as a stone.

Gabriel checked both boys’ injuries quickly and announced that
they’d both need some stitches. He took antiseptic, bandages and needle and
thread from his medicine cabinet and then washed his hands. Delaney joined him
at the basin and whispered, “How bad are they?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Not as bad as I expected. Ben’s
hand needs the most attention. Tommy has a superficial wound. Two or three
stitches should suffice. I want you to clean his head. Can you do that?” She
nodded, and he said, “When it’s good and clean, pour this antiseptic in and
apply pressure until the blood stops flowing. Donovan,” he called.

“Yes, Doc?” Donovan sidled up to him.

“Would you mind running to the bank to inform Mr. Admirand that
his son is here and has been injured?”

“On me way.” He scooted out of the room and slammed the front door
behind him.

Delaney began to clean the semi-lucid boy’s head and face where
the blood had dripped and congealed. When he stirred, she lay her hand on his
forehead and spoke soothingly to him. “Your father’s on his way, Tommy. Don’t be
afraid. You’re in the doctor’s office and we’re going to take good care of
you.”

Gabriel knelt and inspected Ben Bowman’s chewed hand. The left
index finger was nearly separated from the hand. The boy tried to be brave, but
hot tears spilled from his eyes as Gabriel cleaned the wounds. The sheriff
remained tough, but clenched his teeth each time Ben cried out in pain.

“I’ll give him a Morphine tablet before I begin stitching,”
Gabriel told Jake. “That’ll work faster than my herbal pain remedies.”

Bowman stared at his son, but didn’t agree right off. Perhaps he
was considering making his boy bite a bullet, Delaney thought.

“It’ll ease the pain,” Gabriel assured him.

She let out a small breath when the father acquiesced.

“All right. I guess it won’t hurt none. Just one though.” Ben swallowed
the pill. After a few minutes, his tears subsided, and he grew calm and
relaxed. His father knelt beside him and placed his hand on the boy’s knee.
Gabriel threaded a needle with catgut. When he began suturing the dangling
finger, the sheriff asked, “Why weren’t you in school, Ben?”

Delaney had wondered the same thing. The boy didn’t answer; only
whimpered like a pup and closed his eyes.

When the job was done, Gabriel wrapped the whole hand in clean
gauze bandages. “My supply of Morphine is low, so I’ll send you home with a
bottle of Laudanum for tonight. Ben’s pain might become unbearable when the Morphine
wears off, but just give him the smallest amount of Laudanum. Only if he
absolutely requires it. This drug is highly addictive. Do you understand,
Jake?”

The sheriff nodded.

Mr. Admirand burst through the door. “Where’s my son?” he
hollered. “Where’s Tommy?”

“In here,” Gabriel called. “Come on back.”

The banker strode into the exam room, nodded at the doctor and
Jake Bowman, and then made a beeline to his son, who was sprawled on the table.
“What happened to him?” he asked, looking directly at Delaney.

She explained what had happened, since she’d been a witness
firsthand, and then she glanced over at the sheriff, who fired an accusatory gaze
at Ben.

“It was an accident, Pa,” Ben groaned, still half-groggy from the
drug.

“Will he be all right?” Mr. Admirand asked.

Gabriel patted Ben on the shoulder as if to assure him that
accidents sometime happened, before walking over to inspect Tommy. He nodded at
Delaney, silently telling her she’d done a fine job cleaning the gash.

“He’s a lucky boy. Both of them are. Tommy’s wound is not too
deep, Mr. Admirand, but it requires two or three stitches. Let me prepare the
needle.”

The boy opened his eyes and said, “Father?”

“Yes, son. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Father. I skipped my schooling and was riding the new
bicycle you bought me. I fell off and bumped my head.”

“We’ll talk about all that later, son.”

As Gabriel strung another needle with catgut, he asked Delaney to
give Tommy a Morphine pill. “It’ll help him relax and ease his pain,” she told
Mr. Admirand, repeating what she’d heard Gabriel tell Sheriff Bowman. When
Tommy fell asleep, Gabriel began to suture.

Donovan, Jake, Ben and Mr. Admirand all huddled around the table,
watching. Delaney, in particular, paid close attention to the procedure in case
she was called on to do the same in the future. Gabriel put three stitches in
the child’s scalp and then wrapped his head in gauze.

When both boys were fully awake and ready to be taken home, Jake
Bowman pulled Delaney aside. “Dr. Whitman mentioned you had a run-in with
Warren Hooper. I’d like to talk with you about that sometime and take down your
statement. It’ll help, if and when he goes to trial.”