penetrated the nightmare. He heard a woman's gentle alto reading to him, her words so faint he could not distinguish them but he clung to the sound. He no longer felt lost and forgotten. For as long he could hear her voice, he was not alone.
"
"Lila, it is past your bedtime."
She stopped reading, marked the place on the page with her thumb and squinted through the half dark with tired eyes at her father standing in the doorway. "Can I stay up late, just this once?"
"It's not good for your health, child." Pa padded into the fall of the lamplight. He was a robust man, although some vital part of him had never recovered after her mother's death. "No, you must come to bed."
"But, Pa, I want to stay and help."
"The doctor is here." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The deputy will be in good hands. If anything changes, I'm sure Doc Frost will let us know. Come, now. Your stepmother is very concerned about your reputation."
"As you said, the doctor is here, as well." She was loath to put down her book. She glanced at the man on the pallet and felt tethered to him in a way she didn't understand. She needed to help him. "I'm in the middle of a scene. At least let me finish the part where the Range Rider is backed into a canyon and out of bullets. Please?"
"You'll have to dangle for a bit, I'm afraid." Pa held out one hand. "Perhaps you can sneak in here when no one is looking tomorrow and read the rest of the scene for the deputy. Not that he can probably hear you."
"He can." Reluctantly, she shut the book's cover. The lamplight caressed the man on the pallet, who was fighting a fever, sweat sluicing down his face and dampening his dark hair. Earlier, when she had rejoined the doctor after the supper dishes were done, Burke had been restless, tossing and turning. After two hours of reading, her throat may be scratchy but he was resting calmly.
"I promise not to leave his side." Dr. Frost withdrew his stethoscope from his medical bag, which sat at his feet. "His fever is the main concern. If it hasn't broken by morning'¦"
A lump formed in her throat, making it impossible to answer. Sadly, she pushed off the stool and backed away from the foot of the pallet. Would he die in the night? She resisted the urge to smooth his tangled hair and dry the sweat beading on his granite face.
"Lila, you're dawdling." Pa stood in the hallway, waiting to close the door. "The deputy is not your responsibility."
"It feels as if he is." It took effort to force her shoes to carry her across the threshold. She took one last glance over her shoulder, surely not the last time she would see him. He lay motionless as if only a shell, but she remembered his smile and his humor. She reluctantly placed one shoe on the bottom stair. She could not explain why with each step she took up the staircase, she left a piece of herself behind.
"Pray for him," Pa advised as he closed the door tight behind her. "It's all any of us can do for him now. He's in God's hands."
"Will you pray for him, too?"
"I already have many times. I hate seeing this happen to anyone so young."
"How do you know anything about him?" She clutched her book. He was just like the hero in her favorite series of novels. Maybe that explained the quick, innocent spark of her interest in him. "He hasn't been in the store, has he?"
"Not that I remember. A while back he stopped to help me when a spoke broke on the delivery wagon." Pa ambled into the fall of light from the upstairs lamps. "At least a few of the town's other deputies would have kept on going, but he dismounted, moseyed up and took over the repair. Expert at it, too. Had the spoke jury-rigged together and back in place in half the time I had been wrestling with
"
"Lila, it is past your bedtime."
She stopped reading, marked the place on the page with her thumb and squinted through the half dark with tired eyes at her father standing in the doorway. "Can I stay up late, just this once?"
"It's not good for your health, child." Pa padded into the fall of the lamplight. He was a robust man, although some vital part of him had never recovered after her mother's death. "No, you must come to bed."
"But, Pa, I want to stay and help."
"The doctor is here." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The deputy will be in good hands. If anything changes, I'm sure Doc Frost will let us know. Come, now. Your stepmother is very concerned about your reputation."
"As you said, the doctor is here, as well." She was loath to put down her book. She glanced at the man on the pallet and felt tethered to him in a way she didn't understand. She needed to help him. "I'm in the middle of a scene. At least let me finish the part where the Range Rider is backed into a canyon and out of bullets. Please?"
"You'll have to dangle for a bit, I'm afraid." Pa held out one hand. "Perhaps you can sneak in here when no one is looking tomorrow and read the rest of the scene for the deputy. Not that he can probably hear you."
"He can." Reluctantly, she shut the book's cover. The lamplight caressed the man on the pallet, who was fighting a fever, sweat sluicing down his face and dampening his dark hair. Earlier, when she had rejoined the doctor after the supper dishes were done, Burke had been restless, tossing and turning. After two hours of reading, her throat may be scratchy but he was resting calmly.
"I promise not to leave his side." Dr. Frost withdrew his stethoscope from his medical bag, which sat at his feet. "His fever is the main concern. If it hasn't broken by morning'¦"
A lump formed in her throat, making it impossible to answer. Sadly, she pushed off the stool and backed away from the foot of the pallet. Would he die in the night? She resisted the urge to smooth his tangled hair and dry the sweat beading on his granite face.
"Lila, you're dawdling." Pa stood in the hallway, waiting to close the door. "The deputy is not your responsibility."
"It feels as if he is." It took effort to force her shoes to carry her across the threshold. She took one last glance over her shoulder, surely not the last time she would see him. He lay motionless as if only a shell, but she remembered his smile and his humor. She reluctantly placed one shoe on the bottom stair. She could not explain why with each step she took up the staircase, she left a piece of herself behind.
"Pray for him," Pa advised as he closed the door tight behind her. "It's all any of us can do for him now. He's in God's hands."
"Will you pray for him, too?"
"I already have many times. I hate seeing this happen to anyone so young."
"How do you know anything about him?" She clutched her book. He was just like the hero in her favorite series of novels. Maybe that explained the quick, innocent spark of her interest in him. "He hasn't been in the store, has he?"
"Not that I remember. A while back he stopped to help me when a spoke broke on the delivery wagon." Pa ambled into the fall of light from the upstairs lamps. "At least a few of the town's other deputies would have kept on going, but he dismounted, moseyed up and took over the repair. Expert at it, too. Had the spoke jury-rigged together and back in place in half the time I had been wrestling with
Similar Books
The Purple Shroud: A Novel of Empress Theodora
Stella Duffy
Wild Awake
Hilary T. Smith
Ravish Her Completely
Jenika Snow
What a Demon Wants
Kathy Love
Three Hands for Scorpio
Andre Norton
Secrets to the Grave
Tami Hoag
The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu
Michael Stanley
Mexican Ghost Tales of the Southwest
Alfred Ávila
Passion's Exile
Glynnis Campbell
A Soldier for Christmas
Jillian Hart