HT02 - Sing: A Novel of Colorado (33 page)

After a moment, he sat back and put the stethoscope into his bag. “Heart sounds steady, broken or not. Lungs too.”

She gave him a small smile for his attempt at humor. He picked up her wrist and held his pocket watch in the other hand, timing her pulse. “Hmm. Your pulse is a bit slow. When’d you eat last?”

“I don’t remember. I confess I have no desire to eat.”

“Common, when ailing from heartache,” he said sweetly. His eyes were quick, light gray. “Your man said you’ve been nauseated over the last few days.”

My man.
Daniel, he meant. “Constantly.”

“Hmm. It’s difficult to manage a meal if one is purging. Forgive me the intrusion, Moira, but I need to do an abdominal exam.” He pulled down the blanket, and she looked away. It felt like a hundred days since a man had touched her. The doctor’s fingers were mechanical, purposeful, not the hands of a lover. “Any pain?”

She shook her head.

“Here?”

Again, she shook her head.

“How ’bout here?”

“No.”

He paused and then sat down in the chair again. “Moira, have you had your monthly time yet?”

She frowned, thinking back. “No, not yet.”

“How about last month?”

Her frown deepened as she concentrated. She’d had it right before they reached New York. But since? She gave her head a little shake. “I’ve been traveling constantly. Perhaps that’s upset my cycle.”

“Perhaps,” he returned, no belief in his voice. “How long? When was the last cycle you remember?”

“Two months past.”

He nodded, chin in hand. “I’m sorry, Moira, but a doctor must sometimes ask painfully personal questions.” A blush grew at his jaw line and spread up his lower cheeks. He refused to meet her eyes. “Could it be … is it possible that you are with child?”

“With child?” she repeated blankly. She knew how babies were made, of course. It was possible, considering her relationship with Gavin. She shook her head. “No. No, no.”

“No, it isn’t possible? Or no, you hope I’m incorrect in my potential diagnosis? Your uterus is enlarged and hardened, as is common with pregnancy.”

“No, no, no,” she whispered. Tears dripped down her face, into her ears.

She could almost feel his eyes on the false wedding ring she wore. “Your husband … Daniel told me he passed on. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

That made her giggle, slightly hysterical. “My husband? Passed on? I supposed that’s right, in a manner of speaking.”

He frowned and put his chin in his hand again. “Do you have people you could go to then? During this time?”

People. People, yes. But people she could go to? How would Bryce and Odessa, the perfect, proper Christian couple, receive her? Who knew where Nic was; it had been a long time … And Gavin was dead. No one in his family would ever acknowledge the responsibility of his estate to provide for his child, born out of wedlock. It was impossible.

“Can you get rid of it?”

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open for a moment. “I hardly think—”

“I’ve heard … there are methods. Ways to be rid of an unwanted—”

“No. I would never be a part of such a thing.” He shoved back his disgust and leaned forward. “Moira, despite your sorrow, could this not be a good thing? A blessing?”

She laughed in his face. “A blessing? A blessing! I will be ostracized. No one will hire me for the stage, unless I become a common showgirl. ‘Moira Colorado’ is not, she’s not … someone who becomes pregnant without being married.”

“Apparently she is,” the doctor said drily. “Moira, the mirage that is Moira Colorado is quickly evaporating. You need to decide who Moira the woman—the mother—will be.” He buttoned up his satchel. “And it’s imperative you eat. If not for you, for the child. I’m leaving this tonic for you. Take a spoonful three times a day. It will calm your stomach. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Doctor’s duty,” he returned. “Give it a night’s sleep. What might seem the darkest news possible might be what ultimately brings you light.”

“Are you a philosopher or a doctor?” she asked wearily.

“Both,” he said with a small smile, “on occasion.”

“I might leave town this very night. I’m in no condition to sing.”

“No, I agree on that count, but I advise you to stay right where you are. Gain your strength. Gather your thoughts. Come up with a plan. It will all work out. It always does.”

“Not always—”

“Not always the way we planned. But somehow, life has a way of righting itself, even when it’s been put at odds.” He turned away and walked to the door. “I’ll come back tomorrow at the same time.”

“Suit yourself. I may or may not be here.”

“I hope you are, Moira.”

He put his hand on the knob.

“Doctor!”

He looked back at her over his shoulder.

“Not a word about this, to anyone?”

“Of course not.”

“If anyone asks, tell them I’ll make a full recovery, in time. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Perfectly.”

“It is too perfect,” Reid said to Dennis. They watched as the young town doctor shook hands with Moira’s guard—Daniel Adams—and walked down the street. “Judging from their faces, Moira will not be singing again tonight. The opera owner will be beside himself with rage.” He looked to the man. “You took care of the McAllans’ detective?”

“He will no longer be sending them further word of your whereabouts.”

“You have all his telegrams?”

“I obtained them last night from his hotel room.”

“Excellent. And his telegrams to the McAllans?”

“Your funds secured copies. You can easily emulate them.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a leather folder. “You’ll find everything in here. He’s been sending a telegram every three days.”

“Easily replicated,” Reid said, clasping his hands together. “Who knows better than I what I am up to? This will be rather enjoyable, keeping the McAllans busy with news, until we are directly upon them.”

Chapter 20

Bryce had returned from his search with the men. She could tell by the stoop of his shoulders, the way he hung his head, that they had not found success. Quickly, she told him of Samuel’s illness, and he listened with concern. He pulled the baby into his arms and stared down into his eyes, then softly kissed his forehead. Then they sat down on two porch chairs and he looked her way. “It’s a ruse, Odessa, a myth,” he said. “We found the canyon, the canyon with a layer of black. It ran ten miles along No Sip Creek. We searched a hundred caves. There’s no treasure, Dess. We must face the moment at hand, rather than what might be. And this moment,” he said, taking her hands in his and looking to the mountains, then back to the ground. “Dess, I don’t see a way out.” He dared to look her in the eye. “Something must give. Robert will auction off my paintings, and we’ll sell the gold bar and send the men to Spain, but in the meantime—Dess, there’s no way to make it. I’ve reviewed the ledgers again and again. We’ll starve before they return. We have to sell off some of the land.”

Odessa considered his words. She knew why he was loathe to take this path. There was a cattleman to their north who would undoubtedly be pleased to pick up their land, but what would happen next year, when they needed it as their own herd returned to normal? Every year, even as remote as they were, this valley was becoming more populated.

“We have to pray for direction,” she said, lifting a hand to her husband’s cheek. “This desert place, this feeling of being lost? Let’s ask God to show us how to go.” She gave him a little shrug. “Because surely, I am as lost as you.”

He slowly brought his eyes to meet hers. “We could sell it. Sell it all. Live off the proceeds for decades, even after Robert takes his cut.”

She stared at him. She could not imagine him, her husband, without a ranch, without horses. She could not imagine herself anywhere but here, under the shadow of Eagle Peak. This was home. Theirs. Core. And yet, she bit her tongue. Who was she to say this was not the way in which God was leading?

“Can we pray about it?” she asked, her voice higher than normal.

He gathered her in then, into his arms. “We’ll pray about it, Dess,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I know this place means as much to you as it does to me. But all things are temporal, right? Could it be that God has something different in mind, even far better than we imagine?”

“Perhaps,” she managed to whisper, nestled beneath his chin. But she longed for her heart to believe what her lips were speaking.

Odessa picked up the baby from his crib and moved to the window where she studied their ranch. It was a spectacular afternoon; brilliant white snow still clung to the tips of the mountains, but below them, the valley was a riot in glorious spring green. New wildflowers had emerged this week, sprinkling the canvas with drops of bloodred and tropical orange and lemon yellow. “We must get out into that, Samuel McAllan,” she said to the baby. “It will clear our heads, allow God to speak directly to us, I’d wager.”

He looked up at her as if startled she was speaking to him, then smiled and cooed his approval of her plan. She was so glad to see him well again; no trace of the fever lingered.

“Your father doesn’t want me going anywhere alone, but he’s occupied elsewhere.” She thought a moment. “Come, let us see if your uncle cares to join us.” She hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen and stopped short, when she saw Robert was again pouring over the ranch ledgers. “Oh,” she muttered.

He looked up at them and then down to the ledger. “Bryce asked me to take another look,” he said, explaining. “He told me he’s thinking he might have to sell a portion of the property to see you through—and wondered if I might be able to see another way.”

She hesitated, feeling the shift within her from defense to partnership. He was looking for a way to help them. Help them all. “Well then, I won’t bother you.”

“No, no,” he said, “you’re never a bother. Please. What did you need?”

“I didn’t need anything. It’s only that it’s so beautiful … I wondered if you’d care to go on a ride with me. Bryce is up in the north forty and isn’t due back until sundown.” She sighed. “Even though he’s hired a man to watch Reid Bannock, he’s a little overprotective. He’d be very angry if I set out alone. But I fear if I don’t get out of this house, I just might scream. And I know my horse needs it as much as I. But if you’re too busy, I can talk one of the ranch hands into it.”

He gave her a wry smile. “It might be good for me to clear my head—might give me some new ideas on how to help.” He reached over to stroke the baby’s head. “You think Samuel’s well enough for it?”

“Tabito taught me how to make a sling to strap him on. He’ll probably go straight to sleep with the rocking motion. And the fresh air will do him good.”

Robert smiled again and lifted a brow. “I’d be happy to escort you.”

“Marvelous!” she said. “I’ll just pack a bag with some water and food and supplies for the baby and we can be off—if you’ll see to our horses.”

“I’d be glad to,” he said with a mock bow.

She smiled and turned from him, thinking again how much he resembled Bryce. She wished Bryce was here to take the ride with her, but in his absence, his brother was a fine stand-in. She’d been silly, worrying over what might be transpiring between them. Since Bryce had been home, Robert had been nothing but proper. She shook her head. Her imagination was taking her places she didn’t need to go. Bryce would be glad if she showed Robert the other side of the ranch, and the overlook that they both so loved.