Ashes and Memories (24 page)

The only life and death struggle that would occur in this town tonight was going on behind him in the next room. Ralphy. God, why did it have to be Ralphy?

“
You were born to privilege,
” his grandfather’s voice reverberated in his mind. “
But you were also born to responsibility. Never forget that. You must take care of those who depend on you.”
 

This entire town depended on him, and he’d turned his back on them. But damn it, they’d defied him, betrayed his trust by freeing Garrett. They’d brought everything on themselves.

“
Maintain control, no matter what. You’re a MacBride, my heir. You answer to no one but yourself.”
 

Reece yanked off his hat and tossed it on the table beside him. Well, his father would have been proud of him last night.

He’d fought his father’s upbringing, his example, for the first nineteen years of his life, fought against the cruel realities he’d tried to teach him, but he’d lived long enough to learn that his father was right.

And Reece was suffering tonight because he hadn’t been able to completely cut off the emotions his father had warned him against.

If there had ever been any doubt, that terrible moment when he’d walked up the drive to what used to be Longwood had confirmed forever that Thomas MacBride was right. His grandfather believed in fairy tales, in what could be instead of what was. The world was a cruel, unforgiving place, and the best way to survive was to form no attachments to anyone or anything.

And he’d lived that way for thirteen years, or so he’d thought, until he’d been brought to his knees by a small boy and a woman whose softness concealed a will of iron. She would save Ralphy. If anyone could, Emma could, Emma and the doc, of course. Maybe God would answer their prayers. The Almighty had been silent where Reece was concerned for a very long time, but maybe he would listen to Emma.

For an hour Reece paced the lobby, returning to Ralphy’s bed frequently to check on him and to make sure the doctor was using the right amount of caution and skill in treating him. Reece had treated gunshot wounds himself, and he knew what was involved. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Doc Stevens, but this was Ralphy, brave, dauntless Ralphy.

What if he never saw that defiant little face again, never heard that bitter, brave tone of his? What if Ralphy never got the chance to grow up, to have a family, to fulfill his promise?

Maybe he’d be better off. Ralphy had just barely experienced the anguish and unfairness of life. There would be even more pain and disappointment in his future. Maybe....

Reece turned his mind away from its dark, fatalistic track. Just because his own life was a shambles didn’t mean Ralphy’s would be, too. Whatever Reece had done to anger God, maybe Ralphy could avoid in his own life. Maybe....

That was just it. Ralphy’s life was one big maybe, nothing more than a promise. It was so goddamed unfair for him to die now.

Why couldn’t it have been me? He asked whatever dark spirit looked over his shoulder, and in that moment he knew he would trade places with Ralphy if he could, even if it meant making a deal with the devil, and the fight went out of him. It was no use denying the depth of his feeling for the boy.

First Emma and now Ralphy. His defenses had not been breached, they had been annihilated.

The clank of metal against metal brought Reece to his feet. He stumbled to Ralphy’s bed, avoiding Emma’s gaze. A bloody bullet lay in the bottom of the bowl on the bedside table.

Reece’s gaze traveled from the bullet to Doc Stevens’s grim face.

“I have to sew him up,” the doctor said. “Then the vigil begins.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Emma pulled the sheet down and gazed at the white bandage on Ralphy’s small chest, checking for bleeding as the doctor had instructed before taking himself off to bed. The poor man had been close to collapse from exhaustion, and she’d finally convinced him to get some sleep by promising to watch over the patients and wake him if there was the slightest change in Ralphy’s condition.

Finding no tell-tale red against the white cotton, Emma replaced the sheet, gazing down at his pale little face. He looked so small lying there, so very ill, his fragile body fighting for life.

She blinked against the tears that welled behind her eyes, her gaze coming to rest on Reece’s grim face. She’d never seen him like this, and she wasn’t sure how to react. He hadn’t spoken all night beyond monosyllabic replies to her few questions and comments.

She’d given up trying to reach him, resigning him to his private hell, a place she could not go because he guarded it too diligently.

He couldn’t hold up like this much longer, she knew. Not once throughout the night had the tension left his body. He had never moved from Ralphy’s side, and Emma couldn’t help wondering what was going on inside him.

It was as if he’d harbored a deep well of caring behind a dam of indifference and the possibility of losing Ralphy had broken through that dam. The depth of his caring touched her deeply and gave her hope for him... if Ralphy lived.

Her heart caught in her throat. He had to live. He had to.

She went to the kitchen for coffee. Returning, she stood beside Reece for a long moment before he noticed and glanced up at her.

“I brought you some coffee,” she said, holding the steaming cup toward him.

Reece blinked as if he’d been roused from a dream. He smiled wanly, his face haggard. “No thank you.”

Emma’s heart twisted at the grief and worry etched in is eyes. Impulsively she set the cup on the table beside Ralphy’s cot and knelt before him, placing a hand on his where it rested on the arm of the chair, and to her surprise he didn’t pull away.

“He’s sleeping,” she told him needlessly.

“Why did he come back to town?” he asked, his voice thick with pain. “If he had just stayed at the mine he would have been safe.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can ask him tomorrow,” she said with more hope than she felt. Ralphy had lost a lot of blood. He’d been in that alley since last night. It would take nothing short of a miracle to save him, and she’d prayed for one all night.

Reece shook his head slowly, his eyes glazed as if he didn’t even know she was there.

“I never meant to feel... to feel this again,” he murmured. “Feelings are weakness. You shut them off and do what you have to do. There’s no other way.”

His voice sounded strange to her ears, subdued, devoid of sarcasm or cynicism for once. Her heart ached at the pain she sensed in him as she remembered everything she’d learned about Reece that morning. He’d once had a family he cared for, and he was a war hero.

“Those tactics work in war,” she told him, “where a soldier has to distance himself from his emotions in order to --”

“Don’t talk to me about war, Emma,” he warned, his eyes glowing dark in the light of the hurricane lamp beside Ralphy’s cot, “about things you don’t understand.”

“I know what I’m talking about.” She couldn’t back down now, couldn’t give up, despite the rigid tension that radiated through his body like a living thing. “My father told me that much. But the war is over.”

“I know that.” His voice held enough bitterness to cause her blood to run cold. “I know the difference.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You live your whole life like it’s one continuous war. When are you going to stop?”

“I just feel responsible for him. He works for me and I take care of my employees. Is that so hard to understand?”

“It’s more than that, Reece, and you know it. You’ve tried to isolate yourself, to keep yourself safe from caring, but Ralphy got inside your defenses. Why can’t you admit that you care?”

“I just wanted to help him.”

“Yes, because you cared,” she pointed out. “It’s only natural. I care for Ralphy, too. No one can live without some sense of belonging, of being needed.”

He came to his feet, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to be needed. And I don’t want to need anyone else. I can’t.... I can’t do it again. You open up even a little, let someone inside, and then they die and it takes another piece of you until there’s nothing left. Well, I can’t do it again. I won’t.”

“You can’t go through life not caring about anyone because they might die. Everyone dies. Ralphy’s strong. And young. He’ll pull through.”

“He reminds me of myself in a way,” Reece said. “He’s lost everything... too.”

He gazed at her chagrined, and Emma knew he hadn’t meant to say that, to draw a parallel between himself and Ralphy, to reveal so much.

“What did you lose, Reece?” she asked softly. She thought she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him. If only he would talk about whatever was eating him up inside, if only she could get him to face the demons, maybe she could save him where she couldn’t save her father.

“My future, my home, my family... everything. I went on, you know you have to go on. It’s part of life. There’s always another death, another grave, another funeral.”

“You can’t lose hope.” It was all she had to offer, all anyone had to cling to.

“Hope,” he said with a deprecating laugh. “Hope is an empty word, Emma. Like faith and love. Meaningless. Whether I have hope or not has no bearing on Ralphy’s survival. Don’t talk to me about hope.”

“If you lose hope --”

“No thank you. I’d rather be prepared for the worst than hope for the best. Things rarely work out for the best.”

The desolation in his eyes chilled her. How dismal his life must be. He struggled toward some unattainable goal that would never make him happy even if he could reach it, and all the while he expected disaster. Courted it, she realized.

“My God, are you still here?”

They turned together as Doc Stevens entered the room, his brow furrowed with concern. “Reece, you should go home and get some rest. You too, Emma. I’ll take over now.”

“I’m staying,” Reece said, returning to his seat beside Ralphy’s cot.

“You won’t be any good to Ralphy or anyone else if you collapse from fatigue,” the doctor told him sharply.

Reece gazed up at Emma and she looked away nervously from the unspoken question in his eyes.

“I... I’ve decided to take a room here at the hotel,” she said. She’d realized during the day that she couldn’t sleep in her own room yet, not now. Besides, she should stay close by in case the doctor needed her.

“Good,” Reece said with a smile that held no trace of smugness.

“But I do need to go home.” She didn’t want to go alone, but she wasn’t sure how to ask him to go with her. She wasn’t even sure she wanted him to. “I need some of my things.”

Reece nodded his understanding. “I’ll walk over with you.”

“Ah, good,” the doctor said, “why don’t you both get out of here. Get some fresh air, rest. I’ll be here to take care of Ralphy.”

Reece took his duster from the coat rack just inside the lobby door. Placing his hat on his head, he turned to face Emma.

“Where’s your coat?” he asked, slipping his gloves on.

“I don’t have one. It’s in my room.”

“You’re free to use mine,” the doctor offered, motioning toward the coat rack. “You’ll need it. It’s brutal out there.”

Emma nodded, then slipped into the woolen coat. Doctor Stevens was shorter and smaller than Reece, so his coat fit a little better than Reece’s duster had last night, but she didn’t draw the same comfort, the same sensual pleasure from wearing it as she had the duster. She reminded herself that the important thing was warmth. It would keep her warm.

Shoving her hands into the coat pockets, she preceded Reece through the door, gasping in shock at the arctic air that greeted her.

They made their way up the street in silence, too cold to speak, their breath forming white clouds in the dark night. Reece put an arm around her shivering body and she leaned against his solid form for warmth and security.

They reached the broken door, a reminder of what had happened last night, and Emma faltered, trembling with trepidation. She didn’t want to go inside, and she was unable to make herself do so.

Reece must have noticed her hesitation. He took her by the arm and she turned to look into his eyes.

“Come on,” he said gently, stepping through the door and guiding her in behind him.

They walked through the familiar office, the shadows suddenly sinister, every noise suddenly cause for alarm. She clung to Reece, ashamed of her own weakness, afraid to let go.

“Do you want to stay down here until I make sure everything is all right upstairs?” he asked as they reached the foot of the stairs and Emma hesitated again.

“No,” she replied quickly. The last thing in the world she wanted was to wait down here alone while he went up those stairs. She didn’t even want to let go of him.

With a nod of understanding, Reece started up the stairs, Emma close on his heels.

Emma stopped at the door to her bedroom while Reece went inside. He needlessly checked all the corners for her benefit, even bending down to look under the unmade bed. When he turned to look at her again, the concern in his eyes told her that her face reflected the terror in her soul.

“I’d fallen asleep with the light on,” she said. “The noise woke me and I jumped out of bed. Everything seemed calm on the street, but I could hear the gunfire growing closer and closer. I decided to dress and keep my pistol close at hand. But --”

Reece crossed the room to her, wrapping her in his warm, strong arms. “It’s over, Emma. You’ve got to stop reliving it.”

“I know. I know.”

“Look,” he said, tilting her chin so she gazed into his eyes. “Get whatever you need. Take as long as you like.”

With a deep breath, Emma stiffened her resolve. She could do this. Reece was here. She had nothing to be afraid of.

She stalked across the room to the armoire and opened it. Inside she found her valise and placed it open on the dressing table. Her hairbrush and hand mirror went into the valise. Across the room she fumbled in a drawer of her bureau until she found a clean nightgown. Holding the garment reminded her that she’d left her other one in Reece’s bedroom, and she trembled as she imagined him finding it where she’d left it on his bed, holding the intimate garment in his hand.