Spring Creek Bride (10 page)

A
deafening fog enveloped Mick and he fought to breathe. Every few seconds a searing pain tore across his jaw and his head and the taste of blood on his lips served as a chilling reminder of what had just happened.

He tried to sit up, but the searing pain in his right leg stopped him cold.

Dear God…

Mick’s thoughts, rapid and scattered, were interrupted by a strange tightness in his chest—a crushing feeling that caused him to wonder if his heart might explode.

He couldn’t make a bit of sense out of any of it. Nor could he see. A light, white and hot, blinded him and forced him to think he must surely have drifted into a ghoulish nightmare.

“You all right, mister? Answer me if you’re all right.”

Mick heard the words but couldn’t will his head to nod. Or to move at all, for that matter. Instead, he lay quite still, fighting to remember where he was,
what had brought him to this agonizing place. He could taste blood on his lips, and pain tore through his jaw. But it was nothing compared to what he felt in his right leg. He began to lose consciousness.

“Ready for bed, son?” His mother’s voice brought comfort as she brushed the hair from his brow. “Let’s say our prayers before we settle in for the night.” Her smile, bright and reassuring as always, made him want to bow his knees in prayer. And her beautiful eyes—caring, compassionate. How they danced with joy.

He tried to respond, but found himself unable to.

“Now I lay me down to sleep…What’s next, son? Say the next part.”

Mick whispered, “I pray the Lord…”

She joined him for the rest. “…my soul to keep.”

A gripping pain crushed Mick’s chest, as if in an attempt to squeeze the breath out of him, and he could not continue. His arms broke free from their numbed state and he reached up, hoping for someone—anyone—to ease the pain.

“Mister, don’t move. Whatever you do. We’ll do our best to help you, but you’re going to have to work with us.”

If I should die before I wake…

Mick faded into a world of dreams.

As Ida took a long, hot bath, she did everything in her power not to think about Mick Bradley. She tried not to reflect on the color of his eyes. She did
her best to push aside the gentle sound of his voice as he’d offered to walk her home.

Oh, if only she could banish all thoughts of him. Then life would return to normal. She would get back to work, saving her town from ruin, and he would…

Her stomach knotted as she thought about the possibilities.

He would leave.

The idea of Mick Bradley leaving Spring Creek didn’t hold the same appeal it once had. Not in the slightest.

She dressed for bed and prayed before settling in for the night. No sooner had she done so than a knock came at the door. Ida rose at once, knowing somehow that the news would not be good. She waited at the top of the stairs as her father answered the door.

“I-I’m so sorry to bother you, sir,” said a breathless Johnsey Fischer.

“Nonsense, son. What’s happened?”

“It’s…it’s Mick Bradley.”

A gripping sensation took hold of Ida’s heart. “What about him?” She descended the stairs, clutching her dressing robe.

Johnsey stepped into the front hall and she read the concern in his eyes in the flicker of the lamplight. “He’s been attacked. At the roundhouse.”

“No!” Ida gasped. “How bad is it?”

“It doesn’t look good, I’m afraid. One of the railroad men found him. He’s barely alive.”

“Where is he now?” A violent trembling took hold
of her. Oh, how she wanted to be there. To help in whatever way she could.

“Doc Klein is on his way to the roundhouse as we speak. Dinah feels sure the men will take Mick back to Doc Klein’s place within the hour.”

Ida wanted to ask a thousand questions. Why the roundhouse? How badly was he hurt? Who did this unspeakable thing?

She knew, of course. Knew that Brewster’s men had been behind this. Surely Mick knew it, too. If he was still…

As the word
alive
flitted through her mind, Ida’s tears started.

“Dinah wants to be freed up to offer her assistance, if needed. She’s hoping you will watch Carter, Ida, if you don’t mind,” Johnsey continued.

“Of course I don’t mind.” Ida flew into action, rushing to her room and changing clothes as quickly as she could, a prayer winding its way from her heart to her lips as she raced to and fro.

“Lord, I beg you, please protect Mick. Don’t let him die. Oh, God, forgive me for getting the men so stirred up. Lord, I…”

She dissolved into sobs. Mick Bradley was dying…because of her.

Every now and again, Mick shifted into his right mind. He attempted to understand what had happened.

Shouting.

Tugging.

Agony unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Someone kneeling over him. He heard the tearing of cloth and then felt the person wrapping his leg. But why? As Mick tried to reach down, he found himself restrained and fought against it. He did not want to be led to the bowels of hell bound like a prisoner.

If, in fact, hell was his destination.

Again he fought those who tried to restrain him, but this time their voices attempted to soothe his troubled soul.

“Easy now.”

He shook his head, the bitter taste of bile rising up into his mouth.
If I should die…

Mick groaned in pain as men came from every side—lifting, twisting, pulling…

Through the haze, Mick felt a crowd gathered around, sensed their presence. Surely a band of angels wouldn’t have offered any more comfort.

“Let’s get him out of here, boys.” Within minutes, Mick had been loaded on a wagon and was on his way back to town. Whatever awaited him there was completely beyond his control.

I
da paced in the kitchen above the mercantile, trying to remain calm.

“Ida, all the worrying in the world won’t make things any better,” Dinah said.

“I know, I know.” Ida twisted a worn dishcloth in her hands, released it and then twisted it again. Her heart felt much like that rag, as if it had been pummeled and then released, only to take a beating once more. First the fire, and now this.

She turned to face her aunt head-on. “What am I to do? I can’t help but worry. This is all my fault. If only I hadn’t gotten everyone so worked up when he first came—”

Dinah gripped her hand, prying the dishcloth loose. “The Bible instructs us not to worry, only to pray. And you spoke very plainly to the church folks on Wednesday night, encouraging a prayerful approach to Mr. Bradley. This is not your fault, Ida.”

“Still—”

“Whenever worries arise, we need to go to God at once. And I can’t think of a better time than now.” Dinah took a seat at the breakfast table and motioned for Ida to do the same.

Ida dropped into a seat, her eyes filling with tears. She didn’t feel like bowing her head or praying. No, she wanted to join the doctor as he cared for Mick, tending to his wounds. She wanted to jump in and fix things, as always. Only now, she could fix nothing. Perhaps Dinah’s idea to simply pray made sense after all.

As if reading her thoughts, her aunt reached across the small table and took hold of Ida’s hand once again. This time, she began to pray aloud. “Lord, we ask You to watch over Mick. Bring healing and comfort. Be with Doc Klein as he tends to Mick’s wounds. Be with the sheriff as he pursues the men who did this. Make Your presence known in the midst of this tragedy, Father. May every heart turn to You. We place this tragic situation in Your capable hands and acknowledge Your role as Sovereign King and as One who knows all things. Amen.”

Ida echoed with a quiet “Amen,” then gazed up into Dinah’s eyes. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“You’re so strong, Dinah. You’ve lost so much, and yet you always manage to find the good in everything. And everyone. You turn to God first, when others would simply panic. And you somehow manage to keep the rest of us calm whenever there’s a calamity.”

“I struggle more than you know. Especially on
days like today.” She brushed away a tear and Ida knew her thoughts had shifted to Larson. Dinah’s back stiffened and she dried her eyes. “But every time I reach the point where I feel I cannot go on, I am reminded of the Lord’s hand at work in my life. And in Carter’s. I must trust Him, Ida. And you must, too.”

“Yes. I know.”

“He will look after Mick, and will shine His searchlight on those who have committed this awful deed. They will be brought to justice.”

“But if Mick should die—”

“Ida, you can’t think like that.”

“Don’t you see, Dinah? Papa’s right. I try to fix everything. And everyone. I attempted to fix our little town by making Mick miserable enough to leave. Then, suddenly, I felt as if sending him away was the last thing the Lord wanted. Mick Bradley was sent here for a reason, perhaps to come to know the love of the Lord through our good witness. I see that now. But if he’s been killed—”

“We have no way of knowing that,” Dinah cautioned, “so don’t spend time dwelling on it. We will deal with the details as they are revealed. In the meantime, we must busy ourselves in the best possible way. Doc Klein will likely need my help, as always. He was so kind to train me as an assistant for situations like this. Could I leave Carter here with you so that I might offer my services?”

“Of course.” Ida worked to press all fears from her
mind as she stood. “Just promise me you’ll send word. If you’re able, I mean. And to be careful, Dinah.”

“Of course.”

Dinah and Ida looked in on Carter as he slept, and then Dinah planted a kiss on her son’s forehead. “He’s growing up so fast,” she whispered.

“Indeed. And he will be such a wonderful man one day, Dinah. I’m sure of it.” Even as the words were spoken, Mick Bradley’s face flashed before Ida’s eyes.

With a heavy heart, she said goodbye to Dinah and settled in to wait for news.

“Son, can you hear me?”

Mick awoke to the sound of a strange voice. Through the fog, he looked up into an unfamiliar face. A man with kind eyes. An angel, perhaps? Had he died?

“Son, I’m Doc Klein.” The older man’s voice sounded soothing, reassuring. “I’m going to take good care of you.”

“What happened?”

“Never you mind that now. Just know that I’m going to do the best I can, and lots of folks are praying for you, so you rest easy.”

Mick would have laughed if he’d had the strength. Even if the good folks of Spring Creek banded together to offer up prayers on his behalf, why would the Almighty listen?

A violent shaking began and Mick gave himself over to it. How could he possibly be this cold in the middle of summer? Everything swirled around him in
a haze. The taste of blood lingered on his tongue and the pain in his chest grew worse with every breath.

Dear God, just take me. Please. Put me out of this pain.

Would death bring an end to the unbearable suffering? Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.

A sound at the door drew his attention. He wanted to turn his head but could not seem to move. He soon heard a familiar voice.

“Mick, it’s Dinah. I’ve come to help Doc Klein as he operates.”

“Operates?”

“Yes, son,” the doctor said. “We’ve got some work to do on that leg. And I’ll wrap those ribs afterward. See if we can ease your pain.”

None of this made any sense. Not a bit.

“I’ll be giving you morphine, son,” the doctor said, “so you’ll be asleep soon. I’ll do the best I can to piece you back together.”

Mick wondered if he deserved to be pieced back together. Probably not, he concluded. Just as well. The best thing that could happen to him now—and to Spring Creek, and to Ida—was if Doc Klein couldn’t put the pieces back together. Save them all a lot of trouble.

“I
’m sorry, Dinah, but I had to come. Carter is with Mrs. Gertsch. I simply couldn’t sit still and do nothing. Not when I feel so…responsible.”

For once Dinah did not scold her. Instead, she gave Ida a compassionate look, then brought her in the room to see Mick.

Ida gasped at the sight of him—a bloody, mangled mess. “Oh, Dinah!” She knelt at his bedside, her throat in a knot. She finally managed a whisper. “Will he make it?”

Dinah put her finger to her lips and ushered Ida back out of the room. “He just came out of surgery and Doc says it’s too early to tell. He’s lost a tremendous amount of blood and has several broken bones. His leg is shattered. Even if he does live…” She stopped speaking and simply shook her head.

“What? Please say it.”

“Even if he makes it, he might not walk again. And then there’s the issue of all the broken ribs. Doc
was afraid his lung was punctured, but praise God, that doesn’t appear to be the case. Still, it doesn’t look good. But we mustn’t let him see that.”

“Has he come to yet?”

“No. He’s on a heavy dose of morphine and will be out most of the night.”

Ida’s heart twisted. Dinah reached to slip an arm around her waist.

“We need to be strong for him, Ida,” Dinah whispered. “If he sees us falling to pieces, imagine what that will do to him. We have to speak words of hope and give him the best possible care.”

Ida nodded and did her best to swallow the lump in her throat. “You are right, of course. And I will do whatever you need me to do.”

“Go back to my place and get some sleep. You’re going to need your strength over the next few days. I have a feeling we’re going to have our hands plenty full trying to care for a patient and run the mercantile.”

Ida nodded, though she wanted to stay put and sit at Mick’s bedside until he awoke. She went into the room again and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, offering up a silent prayer.

Lord, I beg You, spare this man’s life. Give him another chance, Father.

Give me another chance.

No sooner had she sent the prayer heavenward than Mick’s eyes began to open.

“Doc Klein!” she called out. “I think he’s waking up.”

If I should die before I wake…

Mick fought the blinding pain in his leg and attempted to cry out, but words wouldn’t come. He groped about with his right hand, ignoring the throb in his midsection as he aimed for his leg.
Dear God, please let it still be there.
He found the answer to his prayer as his hand lit upon a gaping wound.

He worked to open his eyes.
Have I been drugged?
What in the world had happened to cause such pain?

A familiar face appeared in a haze above him. Ida.

Mick tried to sit up, tried to make sense of things, but his rib cage wouldn’t allow it. At that moment, the doctor appeared at his side. “Take it easy, young fellow. You’re just waking up from surgery, but you’re not well enough to sit up just yet.”

“Wh-what—”

“Don’t talk. Just lie still. I’m going to give you more morphine to ease the pain. Just let me examine you first.”

The man leaned down and touched a stethoscope to Mick’s chest.

“You had some major injuries, son,” the doctor explained as he pulled away a sheet to reveal a bloody array of bandages. “We operated on you a couple of hours ago. Your lungs are both fine, but you came awfully close to losing your right leg. If not for the grace of God…”

The grace of God? What kind of a God would allow something like this to happen?

Mick’s head throbbed and he closed his eyes once more. Just as he felt a wave of agony break over him, a small, cool hand grasped his and calmed his racing heart.

“You’ll be all right, Mick. You’ll be all right,” Ida said.

He wished he could open his eyes to see her lovely face, but sleep claimed him once again, the feel of her hand sending him into a deep, dreamless slumber.