Wishes on the Wind (55 page)

    But things had not worked out as he had unconsciously hoped. What was the answer? What could he do to salve the aching emptiness inside him?

    A sound nearby interrupted his thoughts, setting his mount to snorting, and David turned. He saw movement in the bushes and became immediately alert. His hands tightening on the reins, he was about to call out when the bark of a gun sounded simultaneously with the burst of pain that slammed into his chest.

    Knocked to the ground with the impact of the bullet that struck him, David clutched his chest, feeling the sticky wetness of blood, groaning with an agonizing effort to draw breath into his lungs. He heard a second shot, and a third, and the blue sky over his head wavered in and out of vision as he strained to breathe. His labored rasps echoed in his ears and the pain grew more intense until sound abruptly began fading. In a moment of complete lucidity before darkness overwhelmed him, David realized that he was fading as well.

    Meg entered her room, stripped off her dress with a low sigh, and tossed it on the bed. She had arrived home late from McCall's Apothecary because of Mr. McCall's request that she deliver a prescription to an ailing family. That errand had brought her too close to the colliery for full comfort, and the realization that she ran the risk of meeting David leaving his office at that time of day had shaken her badly.

    Taking the soap from the dish nearby, Meg worked up a lather between her palms and spread it on her face. Relief was instantaneous as she spread the fragrant bubbles onto her neck and shoulders. With little regard for the trickles that ran down her chest and between her breasts to spot her chemise, she rinsed herself clean and dried the moisture from her skin, feeling fresh for the first time that day.

    A sudden shouting from the street below interrupted Meg's thoughts, and an inexplicable premonition sent chills moving down her spine. Running to the window, she leaned out, straining to see the street, her fears escalating at the agitation of the   pedestrians below. Her heart pounding, she was about to call out when the sound of rushing footsteps in the hallway turned her toward the door the second before it burst open. Terry and Sean paused in the doorway for a fraction of a moment before stepping inside to close the door behind them.

    They were breathing heavily, their faces damp with perspiration and Meg swallowed her escalating fear. "What happened? Why is everyone in the street shouting?"

    Terry's small eyes pinned her, but it was Sean who responded, his eyes cold.

    "We wanted to make sure you were all right. Someone said they saw you near the colliery a little earlier."

    "Aye, I had to deliver some medicine for Mr. McCall."

    No response.

    "Sean?" Meg's heart was hammering and a creeping terror was beginning to overwhelm her. "Sean, tell me what's wrong!"

    "Lang's been shot."

    Gasping, Meg swayed. Both men stepped forward, but she held them back with an outraged "No!" Shuddering as a portion of her mind registered the growing commotion on the street below them, she rasped, "Is he dead?"

    "We're not certain."

    Terry's low response turned her toward him, only to have the eyes of a stranger return her gaze. But she was not intimidated by the coldness there. "Did you do it?" Turning to include Sean, she continued with growing rage. "Did you have anything to do with it at all? Did you?"

    No response. Meg grabbed her dress and slipped it over her head.

    "What're ye doin'?"

    Terry's question was a low growl that she answered with a biting snap. "I'm going to him."

    "No, ye won't!"

    "Oh, yes, I will!" Her quaking increasing, Meg hissed, "You wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than his death, would you? Well, I hope God can forgive you both for whatever part you played in this evil, because I know
I
never can!"

    Grasping her arm, Terry shook her hard. "Ye'll not go anywhere. Ye'll stay here, in this house, where you belong!"

    "I belong wherever I want to be, and right now I want to be with David." A low sob escaped Meg's throat and she paused momentarily to regain control. "And I tell you now, if David Lang      dies, I'll leave this valley forever, and neither of you will ever see me again!"

    Meghan attempted to pull herself free, only to feel Terry's grip tighten to the point of pain as he glared at her with barely controlled fury. "Yer
my
woman, and ye'll stay where I tell ye!"

    Sean took a step toward them only to have Terry snap, "Stay back, ye fool! Would ye have her out on the street now, to have the whole world hear what she has to say?"

    "Let me go!"

    "Ye'll stay here, woman!" And at her struggling protest, Terry muttered a low curse the moment before he picked her up bodily and threw her onto the bed. She was still disoriented when Terry signaled Sean and started toward the door. Holding her gaze for only a moment, Sean followed Terry out the door and pulled it closed behind him.

    Jumping to her feet, Meg was almost across the room when the click of the lock sounded in the silence, and she stopped still.

    Shaking uncontrollably, she was still pounding on the door minutes later, her hands battered and bruised, when reality registered with full impact for the first time. David had been shot and it was her fault! He would never have returned to Shenandoah if not for her, and now

    Desperate, Meg resumed pounding.

    An indeterminate time later, breathless and frantic, her face wet with tears, Meg heard footsteps outside the door. The sound of a scuffle reached her ears and then Uncle Timothy's drunken raving, "I tell ye, woman, I'll beat ye to within an inch of yer life if ye go near that door!"

    She heard Aunt Fiona's grating response. "Leave me be, I say!"

    Again a scuffle and Aunt Fiona's voice sounded with a grunt.

    Silence.

    Meg caught her breath as the key turned in the lock. The door opened to Aunt Fiona's flushed face, and a gasp of relief escaped Meg as she looked past her aunt to see Uncle Timothy sprawled on the hallway floor behind her, his expression incredulous.

    "The drunken sot had not the strength of a flea."

    Aunt Fiona's low explanation touched an unexpected chord inside her, and had not the occasion been so grave, Meg was certain she would have laughed. Instead, she threw her arms around the woman with a gasping word of thanks, and, still buttoning her dress, fled down the staircase without a backward look.

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    Labored breathing, sharp and rasping, filled the room, and Captain Linden looked again toward the bed where David Lang lay. His craggy face tightened with concern at Lang's pale countenance; the veil of perspiration that covered his twitching features as he thrashed in the throes of tortured unconsciousness.

    Linden silently cursed. Had they arrived a few seconds earlier, his men would have been able to thwart this foul deed. Instead, the guard he had assigned to David Lang despite his protests reached the top of the hill only in time to fire a few shots at the assassins before they escaped.

    His men had wasted little time after that, although the damage had already been done. Within minutes David Lang had been rushed to his home and the doctor summoned, while he accompanied another group into Lawler's. In truth, he had not been surprised to find that all were accounted for with alibis sworn by a score or more.

    Linden had realized then that the draw conducted the night before in Lawler's upstairs room, as reported by their Pinkerton agent within the organization, and the plan to kill David Lang slated for a week hence, had been a blind to cover this action by assassins brought in from out of town.

    The labored breathing from the bed stopped, and Linden's heart leapt in the second before Lang coughed raggedly. Despite Dr. Wilson's pessimistic prognosis, he knew that while David Lang still breathed there was a chance for survival from his serious wound, for the fellow was a man not given to surrender of any kind.

    Linden nodded. Aye, young Lang had demonstrated that plainly enough with his management of the colliery. His visit to the O'Connor girl revealed that his strategy was the same in his private life as well, and he had the feeling that if the Mollies had not tried to kill him for one believed crime against them, they would have for another.

    Lang was mumbling again, his breathing becoming more labored, and Dr. Wilson turned a frustrated glance toward Linden. "He's started the bleeding again with his thrashing about, Captain. If we can't get him to settle down, he'll do himself in. Did you send that wire to his family?"

    "There's only his cousin in Philadelphia, sir, and I've no doubt she'll come as soon as she can. His aunt and uncle are out of the country, and I know of no one else."

    "Did you stipulate in the wire that if she doesn't hurry it may be too late?"

    "Aye, I did."

    A sudden commotion in the foyer below drew Dr. Wilson's attention from the policeman with an impatient frown. "Tell your men to settle whatever problem they have down there. Mr. Lang doesn't need any more agitation."

    Turning without reply, Captain Linden slipped from the room, spotting the reason for the disturbance as he pulled the door shut behind him. Moving with surprising speed for a man of his size, Linden reached the bottom of the staircase and snapped a short command.

    "Leave the girl be." And then, with a look of concern directed into frantic blue eyes, "What are you doing here, Mrs. Donovan?"

    "I have to see Mr. Lang."

    Captain Linden assessed the girl's breathless response. Satisfied at what he saw, he instructed, "Follow me."

    David groaned. Each breath fanned anew the burning pain in his chest and the heat of it threatened to devour him. But he fought the searing flames, for within them flickered fragmented images he would not surrender to be consumed.

    Meg, seated in front of him on the saddle as they galloped across the sunlit
hilltopMeg
in his arms in the secluded glade, learning the myriad facets of
loveMeg
lying beneath him as the rain beat against the leafy arbor over their
headsMeg
clutching him close, returning his love. Then the sober word, "Goodbye."

    Pain seared again as David fought the finality of that word, and he called out as he had so many times without receiving a response. Suddenly stilling, David saw a glimmer of light in the darkness surrounding him. He concentrated on the glow, and it grew larger, gaining a voice that he strained to hear with the last of his remaining strength. Uncertain of the sound, he fought to lift his heavy eyelids. His eyes slowly opened.

    Glittering pools of brilliant blue met his gaze. They were so close that he could see the shimmering dampness that clung to the thick dark lashes bordering them, and he gasped with relief. He felt an unexpected touch on his cheek, and heard Meg's voice as her lips moved with a whisper. "You're not alone, David. I'm here with you."

    Her small hand slipped into his, and David gripped it tightly, reveling at the temporary possession. He tried to speak, but was not up to the effort. He felt Meg's lips move briefly against his cheek as she whispered into his ear, ''Don't slip away from me, David, for I could not bear the loss."

    David fought to focus on the beautiful face so close to his. Meg's warm breath bathed his lips, and he drank it in. Fear deserted him, and he knew it was because Meg had breathed life back into him, with her breath, with her touch, and with her love.

    David went suddenly still, and Dr. Wilson moved quickly to David's bedside. Meg glanced up to see relief sweep tension from the doctor's face as he mumbled, "He's resting. For a minute I thought"

    Addressing Meg directly for the first time since she entered the room, Dr. Wilson spoke softly, his tone grave.

    "If you value this man's life at all, I suggest you send word to your home that you'll be detained for an indefinite period, for it's my belief that if you were to leave right now, it would finish him."

    Uncaring of the manner in which it might be misconstrued, Meg looked back at David's pale face as she responded, "Nay, I'll not leave
himnot
while he's needing me."

    That commitment spoken aloud became fixed in Meg's heart more firmly than a sacred vow.

Chapter 24

    The crunch of rubber boots against the dusty road grew louder as the line of miners reporting for the first shift at Lang Colliery thickened. The heat and moisture-laden air of the previous day had not abated, but Sean was unconscious of the beads of perspiration that dotted his forehead and upper lip as he sought to ignore whispered discussions of the previous day's shooting of David Lang that continued around him.

    Sean had slept little after the events of the previous evening and darting a glance toward Terry, where his brother-in-law walked at his side, Sean felt his resentment grow. Cold as ice the bastard was, and while he had often admired that quality in Terry in the past, he felt little regard for it now. As for himself, his fury was barely restrained. The attempt on Lang's life had sent everything wrong.