A Man With a Pure Heart Page 14

  “That’d be ’round eleven thirty tonight.” The old woman looked at the clock on the wall. “You got about a five-hour wait ahead of you.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I wonder if you can get me some cool water. The poor girl in there is burning up with a fever. She had a coughing fit a while back, and I think she might have pneumonia. The Indian kidnapped her a couple of nights ago, and she’s been through quite a lot.”

  “Well, lordy be, why didn’t you say so?” She turned to the boy. “Freddy, run fetch a bucket of water, fresh from the spring. Now, run.”

  She turned to Howard. “I’ll get my daughter, and we’ll take care of the poor girl. You just have a seat and rest.”

  Howard was grateful to the woman. He hadn’t been looking forward to talking to the schoolteacher, let alone trying to clean her up. Only the good Lord knew what she’d been through, judging by how the Indian had treated his past captives.

  Howard didn’t see Albert scramble up from under the table and take off for the front door. By the time he hit the front porch he was whining and baying. Howard’s head jerked up at the sound, and he almost fell out of the chair he’d settled in. Good grief, he must have fallen asleep.

  He was awake now. Albert was seeing to that. Howard quickly glanced around and finally found his rifle. He grabbed it up on his way to the front porch. He could see it was good and dark now, so he must have slept a couple of hours.

  Howard put out the oil lamp by the door before he stepped out. No point in making himself a target. He eased out the door and put his back against the wall, straining to see what had upset Albert. He could finally make out a horse approaching slowly. As the horse got closer, he could make out the body of a man slumped over the horse’s neck. When the horse stopped at the rail and whinnied, Howard realized it was Samuel Hinton slumped over the saddle, not the Indian.

  Howard yelled, “Freddy,” as he ran down the steps just in time to have Samuel slide off the horse and take him to the ground.

  The boy ran down the stairs with a lantern but stopped abruptly at the sight before him.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, son. Help me roll him off, so we can see how bad he’s hurt.”

  It took Howard, Freddy, and Freddy’s mother, Alice, to get Samuel up the steps and onto a table in the kitchen. Once they tore his blood-soaked shirt off, they could see that the blood flow had stopped in the front of the shoulder but continued to seep slowly from the exit wound in the back.

  Alice shook her head from side to side. “We’re gonna have to stop that blood flow quick, while he’s still got enough inside to keep him going.”

  While Howard rolled Samuel onto his left side, Alice took a jug off the shelf. She uncorked it and proceeded to pour it over Samuel’s chest and back. He didn’t so much as flinch as the moonshine washed his wounds. She then took a cleaver from a rack on the stove and held it in the oven’s flame for a couple of minutes.

  She turned to Howard and Freddy. “Ya’ll better get a good grip, ’cause he ain’t gonna like this.” She waited until both of them were braced, then placed the cleaver against the exit wound.

  Howard’s insides churned at the sizzling sound it made, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it because Samuel screamed out loud and threw poor Freddy against the opposite wall as he reared up off the table. Howard held on for dear life, yelling the whole time.

  “Samuel! Samuel, it’s me, Howard. You’re okay now, boy. Just lay back down.”

  Samuel was too weak to fight Howard. He fell back to the table. He was mumbling something. Howard leaned closer to hear.

  “She’s gone…gone…he won.”

  “Oh, no, boy, she’s alive. I’ve got her right here.” But it was too late. Samuel had lost consciousness again.

  “Well.” Howard sighed. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

  ****

  When the train rolled in at eleven thirty, Howard Wilkes was ready.

  He met the engineer and explained his problem. Every train had one man onboard who could run the telegraph if needed.

  The operator opened the station office and telegraphed Tallahassee, and when the train pulled into Tallahassee, all was ready. It might have been two thirty in the morning, but the platform seemed filled.

  Edward Finch was there with an ambulance and attendants. Garth Hinton was there to take the horses. Captain Lance was there to make sure his deputies were well cared for.

  While Edward saw to the patients, Captain Lance met with Wilkes.

  “So you’re saying you don’t know if the killer is dead or alive?”

  “That’s right, sir. The only time Samuel was conscious was when we cauterized the wound, and that was only for a few seconds, so I haven’t been able to ask him anything.”

  “Excuse me,” Edward yelled across the platform. “I need to know Kathleen’s history.”

  Howard Wilkes shook his head. “All I know, Doc, is that she was tied to a tree and burning up with fever when I found her. She had that big bruise on the side of her face already. She mumbled a few times as we rode to Sopchoppy, but it was never anything I could understand, but when she coughed I could feel her whole chest rattle.” Wilkes could feel his face start to burn, as he actually heard his words.

  Edward patted his shoulder. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think she’ll mind, Officer.”

  “But, Doc, there is one thing you should know. Samuel thinks she’s dead. I wasn’t able to tell him I’d found her. And you could tell he was real broke up about it. He just kept saying, ‘She’s gone.’ ”

  “Thank you, Officer, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  By the time Edward got the ambulance to the manor, Mae and Martha had set up a fine “hospital” room on the first floor. There was a dresser loaded with bandages, alcohol, and clean towels. They had hot water for the gunshot patient and ice in the icebox for the fever of either patient.

  Edward took one look at Mae and put on his most stern “doctor” face.

  “You, my dear, can just march right up those stairs and climb into bed. You will remember, please, that you are carrying what is probably twins, and you are almost seven months along. No, no, do not argue.” Mae started pouring hot water into a basin to wash the blood off Samuel.

  Edward was fully aware the bond between Mae and Samuel was far beyond the normal brother-and-sister relationship. He went to Mae and took her in his arms, and she rested her head on his chest.

  “Mae, it is three in the morning, and if Samuel were to wake and see you standing over him, he would have my head on a platter for allowing you to put your health, not to mention the health of the babies, in jeopardy. You know this to be true. Now, I am going to have my hands full with these patients for the next few days, and I don’t need the added strain of worrying about you. Do I make myself clear?”

  He kissed the top of her head and turned her toward the door, where a waiting Martha escorted her upstairs.

  The door had no sooner closed behind Martha and Mae than it opened again. Roxanne and Mrs. Peters marched in, bearing trays.

  “Now, what have we here?” Edward asked. “Is there no end to the trail of women who insist on helping me care for Samuel?”

  Both women raised their chins, but before they could speak, Edward laughed.

  “Yes, I am fully aware that Samuel is a hero to every woman he has ever met. So…Mrs. Peters, pull up a chair for that tray, and start taking off that bandage on his back. Roxanne, help me get the clothes off Kathleen, and we’ll see what we can do about this fever.”

  ****

  It had been a day and a half, and neither patient was responding as well as Edward would have preferred. Samuel had started running a low fever, which in itself was not bad, just proof that his body was trying to fight off any infection. But Edward was concerned over the loss of blood and the fact that Samuel had not wakened.

  He had just sent Roxanne home to bathe and eat, and threatened that if she did not sleep for at least three hours he would bar her from
the sickroom. The look she gave him as she left spoke volumes.

  Edward checked Kathleen’s temperature. They had gotten the fever to break about fourteen hours ago. The racking cough was aided by the mustard plaster Mrs. Peters had used three times now. Edward believed he might have time to slip into the kitchen and steal a cup of coffee, as both patients appeared to be in a peaceful, recuperative mode. He lowered the oil lamp and quietly left the room.

  The flame in the lamp flickered, then sputtered out, leaving the room in a soft darkness.

  Samuel was floating in a quiet place, a place which made no demands on his heart or his mind. There was something around the outer edges of his memory that he kept turning away from. Something painful and dark.

  Samuel. Samuel, I know you can hear me. Listen closely, dear. It is time for me to leave you. You are no longer alone in this world. You have met your mate. She will be your strength, your inspiration, and your helpmeet from this day forward.

  Samuel began to stir. Something was wrong. He needed to speak.

  That’s right, dear one. You must wake up now. She needs you as much as you need her.

  Samuel’s eyes blinked. He became aware of his surroundings, and suddenly his mind translated what his heart had just heard.

  “No! Don’t go.” Samuel thought he shouted, but in truth, his voice was barely a whisper. There was a cool touch on his forehead.

  “Mama,” he whispered, just as the door opened.

  Edward almost dropped his cup of coffee. There she was. He’d only seen her for a few moments, six years ago, but this was something you never forgot.

  And as the faint light around her began to fade, she looked straight into Edward’s eyes.

  “I leave them all in your competent hands, my son. Goodbye.”

  And she was gone.

  “No!” Samuel’s voice now carried across the room.

  Edward practically ran to his side. “Hey, brother, don’t tear those stitches loose. Just lie back and let me re-light the lamp. Then I’ll tell you a story.”

  Edward spent the next few minutes telling Samuel how he had arrived home.

  “I’m really glad you have come back to the living. I was afraid I would have to tell Kathleen you didn’t love her enough to live for her.”

  Samuel’s confused expression was enough to let Edward know they had come to a critical moment.

  “She’s alive, Samuel. Wilkes found her while you were getting yourself shot. She has been very sick. And I’m hoping you can help me persuade her to wake up.”

  Samuel turned his head toward the other bed. His eyes filled with tears, so he closed them.

  Edward cleared his throat. “Uh, Samuel. When I entered the room just now…” His voice trailed off.

  Samuel opened his eyes. “She’s gone. She said we didn’t need her now. That I didn’t need her. That Kathleen would take it from here.”

  Edward slowly shook his head. “Then I guess that’s that.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Edward had to drug Samuel to keep him from trying to get up and check on Kathleen himself.

  “All right, brother, just let me get you something to drink first. You have lost a lot of blood and need to take in liquids.” He said all this with his back to Samuel, as he stirred a goodly dose of morphine into the cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Here, I’ll hold it for you. That’s it. Get as much as possible down. There you go. Now, hold still a minute, and just let me check that bandage before you try to get up.”

  Samuel lay back. Just the act of swallowing the coffee seemed to have drained him.

  “Edward, how badly hurt was Kathleen? Does it look like…did he…hurt her?” Samuel closed his eyes. Edward grinned. As Samuel’s breathing became shallow and rhythmic, he raised the sheet up to Samuel’s chin.

  “That’s it, brother, sleep for now, and we’ll take all the questions tomorrow.”

  ****

  When Samuel woke again, it was to see Sergeant Wilkes staring at him.

  Samuel blinked his eyes several times. Howard was still there, so he must be alive.

  “Howard, what are you doing?”

  “Well, I was given orders to check on you. You and the schoolteacher.”

  Kathleen! Oh, Lord, how was she? Samuel jerked his head to the left, and all he saw was the wall. He turned back to the right, and there was a large curtain down the middle of the room.

  “Where is she? She was here.”

  Edward spoke from behind the curtain. “Calm down, Samuel. I’ll be right there.”

  The curtain parted enough to allow Edward to slide through.

  “Now, what’s all the fuss about? I have to tell you, Samuel, you are not a very cooperative patient.” Edward stopped by the bed and took Samuel’s wrist in his hand. “You seem to have slept well last night. Any pain this morning, other than when you flex your shoulder?”

  “No, I’m fine. Where is Kathleen? Where did you take her?”

  “She is right there, on the other side of the curtain. I figured I would not be able to keep you in bed after this morning, and that you might need a little privacy to wash up and change. But you’re going to need to move slowly. I’ve kept you drugged for two days to give your shoulder time to begin mending.”

  The look Samuel gave him would have scared most men, but Edward was aware Samuel had good sense and understood that it was all done for the best, so he just stood there grinning like a boy who had played a prank on a friend.

  “So, has Kathleen wakened yet?”

  The grin left slowly. “No, not entirely.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, we’ve managed to get small amounts of broth down her, at various times. Like when she’s mumbling. She keeps whispering she wants to sleep. That it’s easier that way. Unlike you, she has not tried to leave the bed, so it was not necessary to drug her. So it concerns me that she continues to sleep. Now, as soon as your vision has cleared and you can keep down some broth, I’ll let you bathe and see if you can talk to her.”

  Howard Wilkes cleared his throat.

  Both Samuel and Edward had forgotten he was there. He had their attention now.

  “I just have one important question to ask, Detective. Is Nash dead?”

  “Yes, Howard, he is dead. We won’t need to worry about him ever again.”

  Howard nodded. “Just one more thing. Did you kill him?” Howard had to make some kind of report, and while it didn’t matter a hill of beans to him, one way or the other, the captain was going to want to know.

  Samuel was slow to answer. His mind ran back over the pursuit.

  “I would have killed him. I would have killed him in cold blood, if needed. But I didn’t. He wrestled with a gator, and he lost. Gator took a large chunk out of his upper thigh, and by the time I could kill the gator, Nash was near gone. Every heartbeat was forcing out a stream of blood. I dragged him out of the water, and all he could say before he died was ‘tree.’ ”

  “Well, then we know that deep down somewhere he must have had some good left in him.”

  “What the hell gave you that idea?”

  “He was trying to tell you she was by a tree. That’s where Albert and I found her, tied to a tree.”

  Samuel slowly sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The room spun for a few seconds, so he kept his eyes closed. He finally opened them and looked at Howard.

  “You’re a good man, Howard, if you can give that killer credit for any human feelings. Regardless, it’s done.”

  “Captain Lance said to tell you to take your time, get well, and then you can write your report.” Howard grinned.

  Samuel give his half smile. “Tell the good captain… Tell him I’ll be in soon.”

  Samuel and Edward waited until the sickroom door closed behind Deputy Wilkes.

  “Now, Edward, how bad is it that Kathleen is not waking?”

  “Truth be told, Samuel, I’m not sure. She obviously has been through a deeply trauma
tic experience, being taken in the night, by a known murderer. She had a serious case of pneumonia, which Martha and Mrs. Peters handled without much help from me, I might add.”

  Samuel raised one eyebrow in question.

  “Well, it seems that modern medicine has yet to find anything more effective than a mustard plaster, when it comes to problems with the lungs. And grateful I am for them—the ladies, I mean. And while the pneumonia was very hard on her, I believe Kathleen’s refusal to wake up has more to do with her mental state than her physical one.”

  Samuel slowly stood, one hand on the bed in case the room started moving again. When it appeared he would be okay, he said, “I’d like that bath…”

  He was interrupted when Martha bustled in. Patrick and Cyrus were right behind her with a large copper washtub. Their faces lit up with smiles when they saw Samuel standing on his own.

  “Praise be!” Martha exclaimed as she dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.

  “Well, about time you got up and stopped lollygaggin’.” Cyrus grinned. “I’d hug you, but you reek of swamp. So where do you want this tub?”

  “Over here, boys, on this side of the curtain. You can fill it and then get out and let a man make himself presentable in peace.”

  Martha clucked at the foolishness. “I fetched you clean clothes and a towel, and…oh, here comes the water now.”

  Through the door marched a line of young women, each carrying a bucket of hot water to pour in the tub.

  Edward stood shaking his head as they all marched back out, followed by Martha, Patrick, and Cyrus.

  “It must be difficult, Samuel, being so important to so many people.” Edward was grinning like a fool, as he headed for the door.

  “I’d make you eat those words”—Samuel grinned weakly—“but I don’t want my water to get cold.”

  “Well, just don’t wet the bandage. I’ll be back in a while to change it.”

  ****

  Samuel bathed as best he could with only one hand. He agreed with Cyrus: anything would be an improvement. He couldn’t manage a shirt, so he just threw it over one shoulder. He opened the curtain in the middle of the room and positioned a chair beside Kathleen’s bed.