Frontier Wife (12 page)

“You better stay here, Adam, in case I need help,” the doctor said.

David lay quietly now. Somehow this seemed even more frightening as she watched the doctor bending over his prostrate form. Adam stood at one side of the bed watching, his tanned features grim and forbidding, as the doctor unbuttoned David’s uniform jacket and shirt.

“My God, look at this.” Both men leaned over the bed. “I haven't seen such severe wounds since the Crimean war.”

She couldn’t move because her limbs had frozen. As Adam straightened up she noticed his usually brown skin was bleached of color.

“Is he all right?” David lay so still she thought he must be dead.

“What happened to him, Miss?”

“He got wounded in the Zulu uprising then he caught some kind of fever.”

“I thought as much.”

“Will he be all right now, Doc?” Adam asked.

“The boy needs rest. His wounds aren't all physical, you know. Scars on the body can heal quicker than those on the mind.”

“You mean he's losing his mind?” Tommy swayed, and would have fallen if Adam hadn’t caught her.

“You aren't going to faint, are you?” He held her upper arms in a surprisingly gentle grip. His warm breath, carrying just the faintest hint of alcohol, fanned her icy cheeks.

“She shouldn’t be the type to have a fit of the vapors,” the doctor said gruffly. “We English always keep a stiff upper lip in a crisis. I've given your brother something to settle him down.”

“When can we go home?”

“Give him an hour, then if someone can help you with him, there's no reason why he can't be moved. You must understand he's far from strong yet.” The doctor stared intently at her. “His wounds are healing quite well. Apart from the fever, I think he's suffering from nervous exhaustion more than anything else. I served as an army doctor in the Crimean war, my dear, so I've seen plenty of similar cases; only time can cure him.”

“Thank you, doctor. What do we owe you? I don't have any money on me at the moment but…”

“No charge, my dear.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts,’ just an old army doctor treating a wounded soldier. I'm off now. Can you arrange for someone to help her get him home, Adam?”

“I'll see to it.” Adam escorted the doctor to the door. The two men conversed together for a few minutes. David slept now, she noticed with relief, his breathing no longer harsh and ragged.

Adam returned to her side. “He seems much easier.”

“Yes, thank you for your help.”

He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. “Stay here. I'll see about arranging Miss Bothroyd's transport home then I'll help you with him.”

“I couldn't let you do that.” She gnawed her bottom lip. “I mean, you've done a great deal already. I couldn't impose upon your kindness any further.”

“It wasn't kindness, just a case of necessity.”

She felt as if he had slapped her across the face.

“Can you get him home on your own, Tommy?”

“No.”

“Well, I'll be back in an hour to help you. I never start anything I don't intend finishing.” With these abrupt words he left the room.

Quietness descended; only the muted sound of music drifted in through the closed door. The drapes were of heavy velvet in some dark brown color. Even though the window stood open, nothing stirred in the stillness. Twinkling stars lit the darkness of the night, bathing the garden in translucent silver.

How could she have been so selfish? What was a ball compared to her brother's health? She shut her eyes, trying to stop the tears from slipping between her closed lids.

“Your brother, is he all right?”

Tommy jumped when Adam spoke near her shoulder.

She turned around and heard him catch his breath.

“Do you think we could go home soon?” She scrubbed the tears away with her knuckles, too distraught to care whether he thought her weak.

“Yes, we can leave in a few minutes. He started to stir when I entered the room.”

They both leaned over the bed, and she realized that David was indeed awake, his eyes puzzled as they took in the strange surroundings.

“What happened? I must have blacked out.”

“You frightened me.”

“What an ass I must have made of myself.” He tried to rise.

“Lie still for a moment,” Adam ordered. “Raise yourself slowly. If you feel up to it we can get you home.”

“Have you made arrangements for Miss Bothroyd?” Tommy couldn’t care less about Sophia, but felt duty bound to at least pretend interest in her welfare.

“Yes, her father will take her home.”

David levered himself into a sitting position. “Where's my jacket?”

“Here it is; the doctor took it off while he examined you.”

“I do remember, I think.” David ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought your hands felt a bit rough, sis.” He swayed like a drunk when he stood up, and she rushed over so he could lean on her.

“I'm as weak as a kitten.”

“Here, rest your weight on me.” Adam came up. “You open the doors,” he directed Tommy. “We'll take him out by the side entrance. I got a groom to bring your…carriage, around the back.”

“How did you know which one belonged to us?”

“Simple; I only saw one buggy parked in the drive, so I guessed it had to be yours.”

“Not everyone can afford a fancy carriage.”

“You obviously can't.”

They lapsed into silence. She sensed a hidden anger in Adam, probably furious because she upset his night. They left the building and came to the buggy. He helped David up before assisting her.

“Better if you sit in the middle, Lindsay, in case you black out again.”

“I'm sorry about this, Munro.”

“It can't be helped, it wasn't your fault.”

He's blaming me.
Why did her presence always incite him to anger? They did not speak again. David slumped against her, and she clasped his hand as Adam drove at a steady pace, staring straight ahead.

Night birds called out to each other. The distant, mournful howl of a wild dog raised the fine hairs at the back of her neck. She never dreamed it possible for a night to be so black. Even though the stars shone in bright perfusion, the trees and bush growing right up to the road closed in menacingly around them.

When they arrived at the homestead, Adam helped David down before giving Tommy his hand so she could alight also.

“You all right, Lindsay?”

David swayed like a drunken man. “I'm just tired now.”

“You're still under the influence of Doc Brannigan's draught. Once you're in bed, you should sleep for hours.”

Tommy held the door open for them.

“Where's his room, I'll help him get undressed.”

“I feel so weak; imagine having to be put to bed like a truculent baby.”

“Down here, Mr. Munro.” Tommy became formal again. She opened the door to her brother's room and stepped back to allow them entry. “Would you like some tea, David?”

“No thanks. What about you, Munro?”

Adam glanced up at her and frowned. “Yes, make some tea, Miss Lindsay.”

The tea was drawing in the pot when he returned to the parlor. He waited for her to sit down before doing likewise himself.

“How do you take it?”

“Black, one sugar, thank you.”

She poured the tea into her best Wedgewood cups, but her hand shook so much some of it slopped into the saucer. “Sorry.”

“Do you have any brandy in the house?”

“No. I can only offer you tea; neither of us drinks alcohol.”

“Not for me, for you, to settle your nerves.”

Her lips trembled and she fought back tears. Why get emotional now?

His mouth tightened. “Everyone should keep some brandy in the house. Are you Quakers or something?”

“No, Church of England. What is your religion?”

“None of your business, unless…” he snapped his fingers and gave a mocking grin, “you’ve got marriage on your mind.”

“Marry you? Never.” She started trembling as shock from the trauma of the last few hours hit her with the force of a tornado. Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she tried to blink them away.

“Oh, for goodness sake, I’m only taunting you. Stop weeping. I can't bear watching women cry.”

She rose from the table to escape his scrutiny and in her distressed state tripped over the mat. He dived out of his chair and caught her in his arms.

He held her for a moment, pressing her face against his chest, while she sobbed into the soft fabric of his shirt. His fingers running over her hair were a gentle soothing caress. His breath, smelling faintly of whisky, fanned the side of her face. Suddenly he let her go.

“Here, dry your eyes.” He thrust a white linen handkerchief into her hand and put a couple of yards between them. “Where's Jamie?”

“Jim and Mary Cavendish are minding him.”

“I'll pick him up tomorrow. I have to go near their place to check on some stock, so I'll drop your buggy off on my way past. I'll have to use it tonight to travel home.”

“I don't know how to thank you for everything you did tonight.”

“Oh, I could think of a way,” he whispered, and the smile he bestowed on her softened the hard planes of his face and did funny things to her heart.

****

With every stride towards the buggy, where the drowsy horse waited, Adam’s rage intensified. He vaulted up and slapped the horse’s rump several times in quick succession. Good thing there wasn’t a whip, or he might have been tempted to lay it across the unfortunate animal's back.

Why he felt so
enraged he didn’t know. Of course, those Lindsay's ruined all his plans. Hadn't he almost made up his mind to speak with Sophia's father? It would have been a nice touch, announcing their betrothal at the ball.

He ground his teeth when he thought of David Lindsay. Young fool, imagine going to a ball in his condition. Tommy must have nagged the poor devil until he gave in just for the sake of peace and quiet.

He had been shocked when the doctor took young Lindsay's jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt. Several long, ragged scars crisscrossed his chest. Any wonder the poor devil limped if his leg was as mangled as his chest. He could not be more than twenty-two or so, a mere boy, yet he held the rank of captain. These weren’t simple farm folk. Jamie said his brother went to Eton; he could well believe it now.

He admired pretty women, and Tommy Lindsay was exquisite. His heartbeats had quickened when she made her grand entrance at the ball. She swept in like a queen, and every other woman in the room paled into insignificance.

The night was black, but nowhere near as dark as he felt.

When he remembered young Lindsay tossing and turning, racked with the turmoil a man who had never been in battle could not understand, he felt something akin to shame. He deliberately set out to turn the townsfolk against him, intimidated, threatened retribution on any man who mated his mare with the Lindsay stallion.