“Myles!”
The scream left Delsie’s throat raw. She’d watched in horror as the Indian had released his arrow toward the spot where she knew Myles was crouched, then the man had fallen, unmoving, to the ground. But she couldn’t see or hear Myles. Fear pulsed icy in her veins at the thought of him hurt, or worse... She bit her lip against her rising panic. Branches scratched at her face and dress, but she waited, her eyes trained on the cabin. Please be safe. Please be safe.
Movement to her left pulled her attention in that direction. The other Indians were leaving. Relief coursed through her, but it was fleeting. She heard Amos yell Myles’s name as well, but there was no response. Where was he? She climbed slowly to her knees, her body trembling with worry. Not even the sight of their pursuers had inspired as much fear in her as the thought of losing Myles did.
Then suddenly he was there, crawling in front of the cabin. Delsie rushed to her feet, a smile working the corners of her mouth. Until she saw the arrow sticking out of his back, below his shoulder. Fresh terror washed over her as she stumbled from the shelter of the brush, the revolver still gripped in her hand.
“Myles,” she screamed again, but he slumped to the ground, his eyes shut. “No, no, no, no.” She rushed across the station yard, doing her best to ignore the dead Indian still lying there. This couldn’t be happening.
Amos reached his side right before her. Delsie dropped herself and the gun to the ground, her hands hovering over Myles’s still body. Blood wet his shirt around the arrow.
“He’s not...” She couldn’t even voice the word.
Bending down, Amos glanced at her and shook his head. “He’s not dead—just unconscious from the pain. That arrow’s gonna need to come out. Go see what they’ve got in that cabin by way of supplies.”
She willed back the tears pressing hard against her eyes and nodded. Climbing to her feet, she hurried into the cabin. What would help Myles? She turned in a helpless circle, her mind too cloudy with fear to think. “Come on, Delsie,” she chided herself.
She found a blanket under the bed that had been singed but still had plenty of workable material left to it. There was also a tin cup and a chipped china bowl. She added them both to the blanket in her arms. Her search of the rest of the cabin produced nothing else of value, so she ran back outside.
Amos glanced up as she came near him. “What have you got?”
“A blanket we could use as bandage material and a cup and bowl for carrying some of the spring water.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding.
The gravity of the situation had etched itself onto every line of Amos’s face. Still, he set his jaw and turned to face Myles again. “Will you go get some water from the spring?”
Setting the blanket next to him, Delsie obeyed. She filled the cup and bowl with as much water as they could hold, then she moved carefully but quickly back to Amos and Myles.
Amos took the filled dishes from her and placed them on the ground. “Now I need you to go over by the horses, Delsie.”
“What for?” She didn’t want to leave Myles.
The older man released a breath of resignation. “I’ve got to pull this arrow out, and I know he wouldn’t want you around when I do it.”
Delsie gazed down at Myles. His handsome face blurred with renewed tears. “All right.”
“Good girl.”
She set her sights on the corral and forced her feet to move in that direction, away from Myles’s prone figure. When she reached the horses, she walked the fence line until the cabin obscured her view of the two men. What would happen when Amos pulled out the arrow? She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
A cry so loud and full of pain it made her gasp shattered the quiet evening air. The horses even skittered at the sound. No longer checking the tears coursing down her cheeks, she wrapped her arms around the nearest fence post and hung on. Another agonized shout filled her ears. “Please don’t let him die, Lord. Please don’t let him die.”
After several long minutes, she heard Amos call for her. Delsie rushed back. The arrow no longer protruded from Myles’s back, but he was no longer unconscious, either. Hard lines of pain creased his face, and his chest rose and fell with labored breaths. Amos had tied a portion of the blanket over his wound, though the blood still seeped through.
“We need to get him inside but moving him is going to hurt something fierce.” Amos knelt in front of Myles’s head. “I’ll take his upper body, but I need you to get his legs.”
Delsie pressed her mouth over a fresh sob. “I can do that.” She positioned herself below Myles’s boots, praying she would have the strength to carry him and not injure him further.
“All right,” Amos said. “On the count of three, we’ll lift him together. Ready?”
She managed a nod, even as her heart beat faster against her ribs.
“One...two...three!”
She lifted Myles’s legs as Amos raised his head and shoulders. Myles cried out in agony as they slowly turned him toward the cabin. The cry tore at her heart, but she made herself focus on walking one step after the other. Once inside she helped Amos lay him, stomach down, on the tick mattress.
When she stepped back, she saw that he’d passed out again. Perhaps that was better, for now. “I’ll get more water,” she volunteered. At least it was something she could do.
She collected the bowl and cup, which had both been emptied of nearly all their liquid, and returned to the spring. Had it only been a short time ago when they’d all been sitting here happy? Delsie filled the vessels and carried them back to the cabin. Amos had pulled a chair up to the bed and was once again examining Myles’s wound.
“Is it very bad?” She hated not knowing, but at the same time, she feared his answer.
“It’s not good,” Amos replied honestly. “But we would have lost him for sure if it had struck his chest or stomach.” He stood and headed for the door. “Since it looks like we’ll be here for some time, I’m going to see what I can find for supper and get to work burying those two men outside.”
Delsie sat in the chair next to Myles. A minute or two later, Amos ducked back inside, both of Myles’s guns in hand.
“You keep one of these with you,” he said, handing her one of the guns. “I doubt those Indians are coming back tonight, but you know how to use this if they do.”
She gave a wooden nod, her eyes trained on Myles.
“Delsie?”
She turned toward Amos, standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
“I’m praying for him, too.”
His words infused her with renewed hope.
“I’ll be back.” He shut the door behind him.
She set the gun on the floor, within easy reach, beside her chair, then she took Myles’s hand in hers. How many times had these strong, masculine hands provided comfort to her over the past few weeks? She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, willing all her strength and hope and love to reach him through her touch.
Shutting her watery eyes, she bent her head and began her silent prayers for help.
* * *
Bright light and immense pain registered simultaneously in Myles’s mind. He jerked awake, opening his eyes, and regretted the movement at once. The back of his shoulder roared in agony. Sucking his breath in through clenched teeth, he did his best to relax his body.
“Myles? Are you awake?” The scent of lavender wafted over him as Delsie leaned near. Carefully he turned his head to look at her. She sat on a chair at his bedside, her eyes wide with concern, her hands twisting and untwisting a handkerchief in her lap. The sight of her alive and unharmed brought him a moment of peace.
“Where’s Amos? Is he all right?”
A sheen of tears graced her long lashes, but she managed a tentative smile. “Amos is fine. He went to find some breakfast. Are you hungry? You didn’t want anything last night.”
“Last night?” Myles ran a hand over his tried eyes, trying to recall the last thing he remembered. Amos had pulled the arrow from his back—that was something he wouldn’t soon forget—then he’d been carried into the cabin. After that, he could vaguely recall Amos rebandaging his wound once or twice. “What time is it?”
Delsie glanced at the roofless ceiling of the cabin. “Probably nearing eight o’clock or so.”
“Eight o’clock?” he echoed. Normally they would have been two hours or more into their journey by now. Delsie couldn’t afford a late start—not when her sister was getting married tomorrow. “Can you help me sit up?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good—”
“Please, Delsie. Help me up.” He’d vowed to get her to the end of the trail, no matter what, and he wouldn’t go back on his word.
She hesitated a moment longer, then set her jaw and sat forward. “It’s probably best if you roll onto your good side first.”
He nodded. Gently he moved his left arm under his body and rolled onto that side. Pain screamed at him to keep still, but he fought it by gritting his teeth. “All right. Now help me sit up.”
Biting her lip, she reached out and gingerly took hold of his right arm. Even the reluctant tug she gave his arm aggravated his injury. He clenched his jaw over the ache and sat up. Immediately the cabin began to spin and tilt. Myles lowered his head, nearly to his chest, and gripped his knees until the dizziness subsided.
Would he be able to sit on his horse? Anxiety churned his empty stomach at the thought of not being able to continue on for Delsie. He loved her and he’d promised to protect her—he had to keep going.
When he could see straight again, he tipped his chin up, his left hand curling into a tight fist against his thigh. “All right. Now I want you to help me stand.”
“What?” Delsie shook her head. “Myles, you were shot with an arrow last night. You’ve either been passed out or restless with the pain since then.”
He met her determined gaze with one of his own. “We were supposed to go another twenty miles last night before we stopped. That would’ve put us only sixty miles from your sister. She gets married tomorrow, Delsie.”
She visibly swallowed, but the firmness in her expression didn’t waver. “I’ll just have to miss it. Because I’m not leaving you behind.”
She’d give up her chance to reconcile with her family, for him? He studied her beautiful face, an unfamiliar lump filling his throat. He coughed it away. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m not going to let you quit.”
“And you can’t ride today.”
“Stubborn woman,” he muttered, shaking his head.
The tiniest smile lifted her lips. “Pigheaded man.”
Her fortitude would be the death of them both, he thought wryly. How could he convince her that he would do anything for her, even if that meant they had to tie him to the saddle? But already, the room was beginning to tip again and he felt as if he might vomit from sitting up even this long. With a groan of defeat, he dropped to his side.
“Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll take some water,” he said, more to give her something to do while he took the few minutes to himself to think. Or try to think. The pain messed with his normally clearheaded mind. That, and the concern and sacrifice of the woman he loved.
“I’ll be right back.” She picked up a cup and exited the cabin.
Myles forced a few deep breaths, though his chest protested it as much as his shoulder did. If he couldn’t ride, then what? He would not lie here and watch Delsie miss the very event she’d come nearly eighteen hundred miles to be at.
Could Amos go with her? Possibly. But without the older man’s help, Myles might not survive long enough to climb back into a saddle. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed someone here to help him get food, water and fresh bandages.
That left only one solution, and the more Myles pondered it, the more he felt the rightness of it deep down. Delsie could go on. The lessons he’d given her on the trail hadn’t been just happenstance. Surely God had seen what might happen, and He’d inspired Myles to help her learn to fend for herself.
Did he dare let her go, though? He hated the idea of not being at her side, protecting her, as she ventured on her own in an unfamiliar desert.
But she’s not alone.
The thought reminded him of the one he’d had right before the Indian had shot him. The recollection filled him with awe, temporarily numbing his pain. If he hadn’t looked up when he did, he wouldn’t have turned away from the arrow. It would have struck him in the chest or abdomen, and that would have meant a sure and agonizing death.
God wasn’t just aware of Delsie. He was looking out for Myles, too. The man who’d bitterly told himself he’d been abandoned, that God had no need of him and his lowly station in life, had been wrong. If anything, God had stepped up His efforts to help Myles since Charles’s death, giving him a friend in Cynthia, and Elijah and Amos. And now Delsie.
The lump returned to his throat and this time tears pricked his eyes as a feeling of warmth and peace settled like a blanket over his entire body. His shoulder still throbbed with pain, but he would be all right.
And so would Delsie.
She stepped back into the cabin, carefully carrying the full cup. “Here you go.”
Myles willed back the moisture in his eyes and lifted his head as she brought the cup to his mouth. “Thank you.”
She smiled, a real smile. “You’re welcome. Amos should be back soon, and then you can have a little meat.”
He reached out and took her free hand in his. She threw him a questioning glance. “After he comes back, I want you to have him saddle up your mare.”
“Myles, we went over this.” She glanced away. “I’m not leaving—”
“Delsie?” He waited for her to face him again. “I need you to do this. Your sister needs you to do this.” He turned her hand over and ran his thumb over the hardened blisters of her palm. “I think God needs you to do this, too.”
Her brow knit in disbelief. “I don’t know when to stop or what to feed my horse.”
Was she relenting? “Amos can give you his watch or you can simply stop at every other station and pay them to feed you and the mare.”
“What about the Indians?”
“We’re close enough to Carson Valley that there shouldn’t be any more trouble like that. The Express stations should be open from this point on.” He motioned to the gun on the table. “Just in case, you can take one of my revolvers with you. You’ll be fine. Your horse can outrun those ponies we saw yesterday.”
She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know.”
“You can do this, darling.” The endearment rolled effortlessly off his tongue. Would he say it as easily again, to some other woman, someday? “We practiced how to saddle and unsaddle your mare, if you need to do that. You also know how to shoot and how to cook. It’s only eighty miles. Slightly less than a typical day for us on the trail.”
Delsie released a heavy sigh and dropped her chin. A single tear rolled down her face.
“It wasn’t just coincidence that we met,” Myles said, using his other hand, despite the pain it caused, to brush the tear from her skin. Skin that was no longer creamy white but slightly brown and freckled. And he loved it. “God put you and me there together by the stables that day. And He helped me teach you everything you need to finish this, Delsie. You can set everything right with your family. You can keep your promise.”
When she lifted her head, her chin was trembling. “But I don’t want to say goodbye.” Her words were perfect echoes of those she’d voiced right before their kiss in the barn all those days ago.
Was that the real reason for her reluctance? He didn’t want to say goodbye, either, especially not now, like this. “It was coming eventually,” Myles replied, if only to mask the ache near his heart at the thought of not seeing her again.
She frowned. Was she hoping he’d say more? The words pushed toward his mouth and made his heart pound in his chest. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, that he loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to her, to claim her heart when neither of them could make good on such a claim. She had to return to her father and her life in Pennsylvania and he had to return to his job and his tiny room back in Saint Joe.
“I’ll never ever forget you, Myles.” She clasped his hand between both of hers. “You have become...” Her voice hitched with a sob. “My dearest, dearest friend.”
“And you mine,” he murmured so low he wasn’t sure if she heard him. “Does this mean you’re going?” he asked more loudly.
She laughed, in spite of her tears. “I suppose it does.”
“Then I’ll say farewell, Miss Delsie Radford...” Foolish or not, he lifted one of her hands and kissed her knuckles, enjoying the feel of her skin beneath his lips for the last time.
“Goodbye, Myles Patton.” That steely spark had returned to her dark blue eyes. “Promise me you will get better?”
“I promise.”
With a decisive nod, she stood and went to the table where her valise sat beside his gun. “Here’s the money for you and Amos.” She set the stacks of bills on the chair beside his bed.
“That’s too much,” Myles protested. “We didn’t get you all the way there.”
She glared down at him. “It’s my money and I’ll do with it as I want.”
Amos appeared in the doorway, a limp coyote hanging from one hand. “Myles, you’re awake.” He took in Delsie and the money and cocked his head. “What’s going on?”
She shot Myles a look, then raised her chin. Her bravery was better medicine than anything he could think of. “I’m going on, alone.”
“You certain?” Amos asked.
This time she didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Amos shot her a sad smile, reminding Myles that he wasn’t the only one regretting Delsie’s approaching absence. “Then we’d best draw you up a map.”