Breathe: A Novel of Colorado (19 page)

He took a step inward, then over to her, barely visible in the soft
golden light of the streetlamp from outside the window. The door
swung halfway shut behind him.

Moira vacillated between trying to get past him and screaming,
taking two precious seconds. He was in front of her then, perilously
close. "I saw you outside," she stammered. "I thought you might be
looking for a criminal, thought I might be able to better make out
where you were looking down here."

"No criminals," he said with a smile in his voice. "Just a man
with a woman on his mind."

He stepped closer. "Reid ..." she warned.

"I heard your brother is away. A woman ought not to be left
alone." He was so close she could feel his breath on her bare neck.

"I don't mind being alone, actually," she said, turning away. "I
told him to go out."

His voice softened and he turned away, running a hand through
his hair. "My mama was alone too often. My father never liked to
be home much. It was hard on her. When I heard Dominic left, I
felt I ought to come over and keep watch over you." He paused and
studied her. "I'll have to remember you might have a different mindset than my mama."

She laughed lightly. "I don't believe I've ever been compared to
anyone's mother."

"No. No, I don't suppose you have," he said with a soft grin.
"Come. Come outside. It isn't seemly, us being here alone."

Moira considered him in the warm light of the gas lamp. Perhaps
her imagination was simply running wild. He was only out on this
cold spring night to make sure she was safe. Perhaps he was a bit
zealous, but she was moved by his attentions, his care. Surely a man
who loved his mother as dearly as he loved his couldn't be all bad.

"Thank you for watching over me, Reid. But now that I know
all is well, I think I will return to my room. I'm dreadfully tired." She
kept her hands clasped before her waist.

He twisted his hat in his hands. "Then good night, Moira. May
I call on you tomorrow?"

She hesitated. "I'll look forward to it. Good night, Reid."

She took a step away but he reached out and gripped her arm
with a steely hand. Then, as if he had moved too forcefully, he softened his hold immediately. "Please."

"Pardon me?"

"Please, Moira. Just say that one more time," he said with eyes
closed. "Say good night to me."

Moira paused, confused. He stood there before her, waiting,
eyes shut. It was rather awkward. "G-good night, Reid." She moved
quickly then, hand on the door before she glanced back.

He was grinning and placing his hat on his head again. "It has
been a good night, Moira," he said. "Sleep well."

Odessa awakened at dawn and immediately knew someone watched
her. She turned quickly upon her bed and looked to the doorway.
Amille DeChant stood there, shifting nervously, wringing her
hands. She coughed, and it was then that Odessa could hear the
deep wheeze of her breath. "My baby," she managed to say as she
panted for air. "I can't find my baby. Can you help me ... find
her?"

Odessa winced and coughed as she came to a sitting position
on the edge of her bed. She reached for a glass of water, willing the
coughing to not even begin this morning. "I am Odessa St. Clair.
Your name is Amille, right? It's a very pretty name."

Amille stared at her blankly, then shifted back and forth. "They
took my baby."

"Who took your baby?" Odessa asked, feeling the woman's
pain.

"The men. The men who want the mine."

Odessa frowned and rose. "I'm sure your baby is all right, Amille.
It's early yet. She's probably fast asleep, asleep in Jesus' arms."

Amille glanced at her quickly then. "No, she's not with Jesus.
She's lost. I have to find her. Have to find her. Have to find her. Have
to find her. Have to-"

"All right," Odessa said, holding up a hand. "We'll go look. But first we must get some clothes on. It's not seemly, going out in our
night shifts."

"Not seemly. Not seemly. Not seemly. Have to find her. Have to
find her. Have to find-"

"Here," Odessa said. "Let me help you choose a dress and then
I'll come back and find my own." She sighed. Was she making a
wise decision? Would it be better to stick to the truth, try and force
Amille's mind back to reality? Her heart told her no. There would be
a time and place for fact. For now, fiction would soothe.

"Thought I told you to keep away from brawling in my town," Reid
said, leveling a gaze at Dominic, who sat across from him, barely able
to see through two eyes that were nearly swollen shut.

Moira knew the sheriff was watching her shaking hand as she
poured tea from the china kettle he had given her. Did he credit it
to fear for her brother? Desire for him? She didn't like how he spoke to
her brother, his total lack of respect, regardless of what Dominic had
been up to.

"I wasn't in your town," Dominic returned. He lifted his cup.
"Thank you, Moira. I'm certain our guest is grateful for your pouring
as well."

"Yes, thank you," Reid ground out, still staring at Dominic.
"If it wasn't in my town, may I ask where you found yourself in
fisticuffs?"

"No," Dominic said with a cheerful grin, sipping at the tea. He
stared through slitted eyes at Reid, then Moira.

The sheriff sat back, considering. It was then that Moira knew that Reid was well aware where he had taken his beating. Otherwise,
he would be pressing him for a response. How much transpired in
this town, or even the next, or the next that Bannock didn't know
about? Or was it simply the St. Clairs that had captured the sheriffs
undivided attention?

"This is fine tea, Moira," the sheriff said, eyeing her as she joined
them at the small table in the center of the vast, empty shop floor.

"Thank you, Sheriff. I bought the tea leaves at Baxter's
Mercantile." She dropped one sugar cube in her cup, then another,
stirring slowly. "He said the tea had just arrived, the best that San
Francisco importers had to offer."

"San Francisco," Reid said, shaking his head as if that was the most
wondrous news he had ever heard. Moira had the notion she could
utter unintelligible jabber and still the man would shake his head as
if she had shared the most insightful comment possible. "Colorado is
well on her way. Imports from the West, as well as from the East."

"Speaking of imports," Dominic said, "my father was sending
a shipment of books and supplies to arrive soon after us, in the off
chance that we might obtain a storefront already built." He waved
about them. "Here we are, but without our wares. We've been here
over two weeks. Do you know to whom we should inquire about a
shipment set to arrive at the Colorado Springs Depot?"

"Joe Potosky," said the sheriff easily. "He gets such shipments all
the time. I imagine your crates are awaiting you in the warehouse
even now."

"Excellent," Dominic said, draining his cup of tea. He set it
down in the saucer with a loud clatter. "Well, we appreciate you
coming to call, Sheriff."

Reid leaned back in his chair, teacup still in hand, and did little
more than raise an eyebrow. "I thought I might, if you will permit
me, after we finish our tea, take you both over to the sanatorium to
visit the elder Miss St. Clair. The streets are terribly muddy, hardly
suitable for Miss Moira to trudge through."

"Oh, that's no trouble," Moira said, lifting a hand prettily to her
chest. "Dominic can see me there safely. Though you should see my
sister, Reid. Odessa has begun riding. I'm eager to find out how she is
faring. You can't imagine how amazing this progress is, to our minds.
She hasn't ridden in more than a year! And now she's to be astride a
horse every day?"

"That Doc Morton knows how to handle his patients," Reid
said, a comforting tone in his voice. "I'm certain Odessa will be only
one of many he heals over the years."

"Oh, I do hope you're right," she said, setting down her teacup.
"Talk of her makes me anxious to see her," she said. "Might you take
us over there now, Reid?"

"Of course," he said, setting down his own cup and rising. He
looked to Dominic. "Perhaps you should consider staying behind.
Your appearance might upset your sister."

Dominic paused, as if the last thing he wanted to do was to
send Odessa into one of her breathing attacks. Not when she had so
recently made such good strides. But Moira silently begged him with
her eyes to come along. "Your words are wise," Nic said to the sheriff.
"I don't want to upset Odessa."

"But-" Moira began.

"But as we've said before," Dominic cut in, "our father does
not approve of unchaperoned visits with his daughters. As the sole St. Clair man present, I must see to his wishes. I will travel with you
to the sanatorium and await my sister outside."

Without a word the sheriff rose and set his hat upon his head,
eyed them both, and turned to lead the way. Nic winked at Moira as
they walked out behind him. What would Nic do if he knew Reid
had found her alone last night?

The trail nurse led them to a small canyon south of Glen Eyrie
and told them to leave their horses to munch on the tender scrub
oak trees' new leaves while they made their way upward on foot.
"Slowly," she said, warning them needlessly. "Pause often to rest and
rise carefully. You don't wish to take a tumble up here."

Odessa raised her brows at the understatement. On one side of
the trail was a sheer cliff, rising high above them. On the other side
was a sheer drop, falling down to a winding creek far below. Were
they mad, bringing patients to such a place?

"Those who feel strongest, go first. If you pause, everyone has
to pause behind you. We'll walk just a little way up, to a pretty
waterfall."

Bryce looked back at her with a question in his eyes, but the
nurse sent him forward, five people ahead of Odessa. Only one girl
of sixteen was behind her. "Last of the pack, I suppose," she said to
the girl. "What is your name?"

"Charlotte. Charlotte Hansen."

"A pleasure to meet you, Charlotte. I am Odessa St. Clair." The
girl was as pale as her white hair, with the consumptive's classic, oddly
flushed cheeks, as if someone had painted Parisian rouge upon them.

She had a sheen of sweat across her face and neck, an echo of what
Odessa felt upon her own. "Just breathe, Charlotte. Be sure you take
it slow and concentrate on your breathing. If you feel faint, go to your
knees. The waterfall mustn't be far. Otherwise, we'd still be astride our
horses." She looked ahead, frowning when she saw the trail nurse so
distant. Shouldn't she be behind them all, with those who fared the
worst? "They're aware we're ill-prepared for an arduous hike."

The nurse caught her accusing eye and paused, letting several
patients pass her at a wider section of the path.

They continued on, taking several steps, pausing to catch their
meager breath, then moving on, as pathetic a group of climbers as
there ever was. The thought of them posing for some poster touting
Colorado Springs' good health made Odessa giggle, but the laughter
stole her precious breath, so she considered more sober thoughts.
Like falling down the canyon wall to the river below. Or Amille's
fruitless search for her daughter. Looking around the sanatorium had
only succeeded in agitating the woman further, until she collapsed
in a full-blown consumptive attack. Odessa was miserable as she
watched Doctor Morton help a nurse to get Amille back to her room
and sedated again.