Debra Holland (14 page)

“Oh, yes. The very best.” Dr. Cameron tilted his head toward the door. “Shall we join them?” He walked to the door.

Once inside the kitchen, the doctor gave Harriet another opportunity to talk to him, which she rejected, careful not to look at Ant.

Stubborn little mule
.
 

“How’s Mrs. Cameron doing?” Harriet asked the doctor, obviously trying to switch his attention elsewhere.

The man’s tired face lit up. “She’s past the time of bending over the chamber pot in the morning. As far as I can tell, the babe’s healthy.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll have to go visit her.”

“She’ll love the company.”

The doctor glanced at Ant. “This is our miracle baby. We’ve been married nigh on ten years, and like Abraham and Sarah, had given up hope.”

Ant felt a twinge of jealousy, which surprised him. He’d never before thought of having babies
. Is life passing me by while I gather the ruined shards of my past?

Harriet picked up the doctor’s hat and held it out to him. “Do you want a girl or boy?”

“A healthy babe is all we pray for. And a safe delivery.” He took the hat from her. “However, I think we’ll have a boy. I have six brothers and Mrs. Cameron has five. Nary a sister in the bunch. No nieces. Only nephews.”

Harriet shook her head. “Your mother must have had her hands full.”

“That she did. I was the eldest, so I had my hands full too.”

“I can’t imagine having brothers. I just have one sister.” Her expression turned wistful. “She married and moved with her husband to Kentucky.” She shrugged. “At least we exchange letters.”

“We do, too.” Doctor Cameron placed his hat on his head. “My youngest brother has recently finished medical school in Edinburgh. He’ll be joining me in Sweetwater Springs.”

Ant’s interest quickened. If the town could support two doctors it was far larger than he’d suspected. “Do you have a big enough practice for both of you to make a living?”

Dr. Cameron shrugged. “Probably not. I know we could help more people, though. It will do Angus good to practice frontier medicine, although I’m sure he’ll be shoving all sorts of new-fangled medical notions my way.”

Ant handed Dr. Cameron some money.

The doctor tucked the money into his pocket and shot a knowing glance at Harriet. “You come on by if you need to see me...or to talk.”

“I will.” She opened the door for him. When it closed, she leaned her back against it, and gave Ant a wary glance.

“I wish you would have let him examine you.”

Harriet huffed in exacerbation. “I’m
quite
well. And that’s my last word.” She walked over to David.

Ant held up his hands in surrender.

The door flew open, and in stomped the widow, her dirty hands full of carrots. She dumped them in a basket on the shelf near the washbasin, and then proceeded to wash and dry her hands, although she had to hunt around for a fresh towel, scolding under her breath.

Briskly she directed them to help her set out the food. A general couldn’t have commanded his troops better. Soon, they were sitting down to the meal.

Ant had been prepared to keep David from wolfing down his food, but instead, the boy ate like a mannequin, not seeming to taste anything. Although once, from the corner of his eye, Ant thought he’d seen a look of satisfaction cross David’s face, but the expression passed so quickly he couldn’t be sure.

After a few attempts at conversation on Harriet’s part, they lapsed into awkward silence. The food was good. Ant had to give the widow credit for her cooking and housekeeping skills, the only favorable things about her. After a small slice of cake, Ant finally surrendered to the uncomfortable feeling building within him. He needed a few quiet minutes to think.

Knowing he was acting rudely, he excused himself by saying he needed to check on Shadow and left David and the women to finish the widow’s lemon cake. He only took a few steps outside and stopped under the window of Widow Murphy’s parlor.

Overhead, an almost-full moon gave off enough light to see vague details of the town. The breeze carried a faint whiff of horse manure and dust from the street. He turned to the back of the house, looking past the garden and the street behind. He spared a glance for the tall, dark shape of Banker Livingston’s house, downstairs windows alight, set back from the street and towering over the rest of the homes in the area. Then, he stared blankly off into the darkness, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that his life had changed today, and not the way he’d expected it to.

For two years, Ant had focused exclusively on his quest to find David. He thought recovering his nephew and revenging Emily would release the knot of anger that had settled in his stomach after his sister’s murder. He’d rescue David and all would be well. Perhaps not well, he amended. Not with David orphaned in the worst possible way. But uncle and nephew would be reunited—a joyful scene that he’d imagined too many times to count.

Now, instead of the happy ending he’d assumed he’d find when he’d accomplished his goal, and a speedy return to his old life, he had a whole new set of problems.
And no answers.

He heard the door open. Quiet footsteps and the silent swish of a skirt told him one of the women had followed him outside. He didn’t have to turn to know his schoolmarm had joined him, but he did anyway, surprised by the feeling of comfort her presence brought him.

Harriet had draped a shawl she must have borrowed from Mrs. Murphy over her shoulders, and stood hugging the ends around her body, as if uncertain about her welcome. “Widow Murphy gave David another piece of cake. Guess she figures as long as you’re paying for it, she can be generous.”

“That’s the first sharp thing I’ve ever heard you say about anyone.”

“I’m still angry with her for how she treated some of my students a few weeks ago. She caused great pain to them and their family and friends. I know I’ll have to work on forgiving her, but I’m not quite there yet. But that’s a story for another time.” She stepped closer. “Actually, I’m also angry at you.”

“Me?”

“For not telling me the truth about Lewis.”

“I didn’t think you’d go hightailin’ after him alone,” he chided, dropping his hands on her shoulders. “Good God, woman, what were you thinking? That man would have taken advantage of you, then murdered you like he did my sister. He would have tossed your body over the cliff without giving two thoughts to it.”

In the moonlight, he could see the blood drain from her face and cursed his loose tongue.

“He murdered your sister? David’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”
 

Hoping not to answer the question, he barreled on with the story. “Then Lewis took David and fled before he could be arrested. You can see why it was so important to get my nephew back before his father harmed him or he became steeped in vice from growing up with that blackguard.”

“Oh, that poor boy.”

“I think David witnessed the murder. Or at least saw his mother’s body. There were small bloody footprints next to Lewis’ big ones.”

“What he’s been through,” she whispered. Then her voice sharpened. “But that doesn’t excuse you not telling me.”

Ant took a long, drawn breath and ran his hand over his head. “You’re right. I’ve kept as close to the ground as possible for someone as big as me. It’s a salacious tale. I learned early on that if I told one person, it often spread through the town. Lewis would hear word of it and light out with David before I even knew he was there.”

“But you could have trusted me,” she said, disappointment in her voice.
 

“It wasn’t you, Harriet. I couldn’t take a chance on David’s life. I wouldn’t put it past Lewis to kill David, just to keep him out of my hands.”

Her hand flew to cover her mouth. She stood there, obviously taking in what he’d said. “What an
evil
man. My feelings about his death were all mixed up before this, but now I’m relieved that neither David nor anyone else will ever be harmed by him.”

The fierceness in her voice caused a wave of emotion to flood through him. He half turned away from her and glanced at the moon.

“Ant, are you all right?”

No, I’m not all right. Not that I would admit it.
“Harriet, I don’t know what to do. David’s so…” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “It never occurred to me that my own nephew wouldn’t recognize me. Instead see me as a stranger and a threat.”

“Today was upsetting for you both.”

Upsetting wasn’t the word. David’s rejection caused a pain deep in his gut. What his nephew must have been through to withdraw inside that frozen shell.

Just thinking about what the boy had experienced send a surge of anger through him. If his brother-in-law were standing in front of him, he’d take pleasure from grabbing the man by the throat and slowly choking the life out of him.

Harriet placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

Ant tried to shake off his anger and form words to describe his concern for his nephew. He wanted her opinion, for he certainly didn’t know anything about children, especially damaged ones. “David hasn’t said one word yet. To me. To anyone. And the look in his eyes is positively eerie. He seems like he’s gone away within himself.”

She squeezed his arm. “My uncle fought for the North in the Civil War and liked to tell us stories. He and his boyhood friend, Jimmy, signed up in the very beginning. As he put it, ‘two still-wet-behind-the-ears boys barely old enough to squeak past enlistment age.’”

Ant nodded for her to go on.

“They were so proud of their ill-fitting new uniforms. Bragged about what they’d do to Jonnie Reb. Until their first battle. Bull Run. They’d never been so scared in their lives.”

“I’m sure that was just the first time.”

She grimaced. “Yes. Uncle Ed said that battles became more familiar, but never less scary.”

“Go on.”

“After Bull Run, Uncle Ed saw a blank look on Jimmy’s face. His eyes looked empty. He became uncharacteristically quiet. Wasn’t the same. My Uncle described him as looking as if his soul had fled from his body. Uncle Ed thought it would wear off but it didn’t.”
 

“What happened?”

“When Jimmy did talk, he kept saying he wanted to go home. But Uncle Ed knew that would make him a deserter. He’d be in worse trouble. So my uncle persuaded him to stay. He died in the next battle. Uncle Ed always blamed himself for that.”

Ant stroked his chin. “So you’re saying fear from the experiences David’s been through has caused that empty expression, and that it might not go away?”

She nodded. “Or at least will take some time to heal. But you’ll give him the security he needs, Ant.”

“Will I?”

“You sound doubtful.”

“I am…ill-equipped....”

“What did you expect to do with David after you found him?”

“You mean after I killed his father?”

She frowned at him. “I didn’t quite mean that.”

“I’m serious, Harriet. That was the plan.” He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

She pursed her lips. “I never thought I’d feel this way about another living soul, but I think I would make the same decision if I had to protect that child from his father.”

Relieved, Ant released his breath. “Now to answer your question... I planned to spend a couple of months with David and then send him to boarding school. While he was in school, I could travel where I needed and still report for the paper. Come home at school breaks.”

“I don’t think your plan’s going to work, Ant.”

“I realize that now.”

“David won’t be ready for boarding school for a long time...if ever. He’ll need to be around you...become acquainted with you again.” She stretched her arm to indicate the town. “Stay in familiar territory. Learn that he’s safe.”

Ant rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll have to give up reporting.”

“Maybe give up being a foreign correspondent, but couldn’t you write from here?”

“About what?” Ant said, an edge in his tone. “The latest saloon brawl?”

Harriet looked as if he had slapped her, but before he could apologize, she snapped back. “Write a book!”

The kitten had her claws out. In the light of the moon, he could see how annoyance brought a becoming flush to her cheeks and sparked her eyes.
She’s pretty when she’s angry. Fighting with her would definitely have some benefits
. The thought mellowed Ant’s ill-humor. He grinned at her. “I was a dashing war correspondent. I hate to give that up.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “All right. Maybe not a
war
correspondent because officially they weren’t
wars.
Clashes actually.”

Harriet raised her brows. “You were the dashing clashes correspondent?”

“Yes, indeed. Not important to anyone but those involved. Some noble would get greedy and try to annex his neighbor, who wouldn’t be pleased at the idea of relinquishing part of his land. I’d write a long story and the paper would maybe print an inch, if that. Actually, Europe during the last few years has been remarkably peaceful. I had better luck writing about the news in the capital cities. Americans love to read about nobility and royalty.”