Chapter Fourteen

A loud groan startled Rowena awake to absolute darkness so still she could hear her own heartbeat. A smell of sickness, alcohol, medicines. The hospital. At Fort Hays. But who had cried out, or was it only a dream? Perhaps one of the many poor souls being treated here for various diseases and injuries.

Blair was here, in the same room.

Still groggy with sleep, she sat up and dropped her bare feet to the cold floor. Feeling her way to his bed, she patted his still form, held her hand there a moment to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. If it had been him crying out, he was silent now.

She turned to go and he grabbed her arm, said something she didn’t understand, followed by the name Lysette. “Que Dieu nous aide tous.” He muttered the unfamiliar phrase several times.

“It’s French,” Simmons whispered from the other side of the bed, startling her. “He was in Paris a good long while, and probably learned to speak it in the hospital. The girl, Lysette, I heard she was killed in the streets before I took Lord Prescott from there.”

An unknown fear caused her teeth to chatter. “But why is he speaking it now? Something is wrong.” She leaned down, kissed his cheek. “He’s hot, burning up. I think he has a fever.”

“I’ll get a nurse.”

“Yes, please hurry.”

Blair rolled his head, uttering short phrases that sounded much like what he’d said soon after the accident, only a little different.

“Shh, darling. Everything will be all right.” She sat in the chair Simmons had vacated and clasped his other hand in hers so that he held her arm and she held his hand.

It seemed like forever before an older nurse bustled in carrying a lamp she set on the bedside table. A circle of light cast the woman’s wavering shadow across the room. When she couldn’t loosen Blair’s grip on Rowena’s arm, she hurried to the other side of the bed and took his temperature.

“He thinks he is in hospital in France,” Simmons told the nurse. “He must be delirious.”

Without speaking she scurried away, and was gone what seemed like forever before she returned with a man they hadn’t seen before. He leaned over Blair. “Nurse, get some more blankets so we can sweat this fever out of him. And bring some acetylsalicylic acid powders.”

Blair's grip on her arm loosened, fell away. Frightened, she turned loose his hand to touch his forehead. “Please, what is wrong with him?”

“From what Mendenhall told me earlier, he’s been through hell. No doubt suffering from shock and exposure. Why is he speaking French? Is he French?”

“No, no, he isn’t. Do you understand what he’s saying?”

“Yes, I believe it’s ‘God help us all.’ And something about everyone is dead. ‘All are dead,’ it translates. Where has this poor boy been?”

“To hell and back,” Simmons muttered. “To hell and back.”

“Looks to me like he’s still in hell, so let’s get him started on his way back.”

Rowena buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Blair began to thrash about, throwing his arms and kicking. The nurse held his bad leg down.

She had to stop crying. Surely he had heard her and was upset.

“Let’s restrain him before he injures himself further.” The doctor leaned down and brought a strap from under the bed. He and the nurse secured the leather straps across his chest, hips, and legs.

“Please don’t do that. Please.” Foolish to think she could protect him, yet she lay across his chest.

“Remove her, sir, if you would. He’ll only do himself more harm if we don’t restrain him.”

She beat her fists against Simmons’ chest when he lifted her away from the bed. “Here, here, dear child. You must not carry on so. They are trying to help him, and you will only make yourself ill.”

She collapsed, and he carried her to the bed previously brought in for her. In a faraway voice, she heard him speak. “Doctor, could she have a small dose of laudanum, just so she can sleep? She has been awake and by his side every moment except for a few hours, since all this started.”

“I do not wish to sleep.” Did she say it aloud? What if when she woke Blair had died and she would not have been with him? Finally she gave in and took a few sips of laudanum. After a while she drifted off and remembered no more.

****

A god-awful pain in his leg awoke Blair to a room filled with a silvery light. Silence. Strange smells in the air. Familiar, yet not. Where was he? A hospital in Paris drifted in and out of his memory. But no, there was something else. Someone else. He was wrapped in so many blankets he could scarcely breathe, and drenched in sweat. And he could not move. Strapped down. A prisoner. The Prussians had taken over the hospital.

“Get me up from here.” The shouted voice was one he did not recognize. Surely not his own.

Warmth touched his cheek, and he opened his eyes. Sunlight poured into the room against walls so white they hurt his eyes. Someone’s face hovered over him. A familiar voice, then another.

“He’s awake.” The woman kissed his forehead “Good morning, darling. Feeling better?”

He struggled to touch her, pull her close, but could not move. “Where am I?” His voice was weak, confused. Sunlight around the face blotted out the features so he could not see who she was, this woman who called him darling.

A hand covered his. “You’re in Kansas, Blair.”

He tightened his grip, tried to make sense out of her reply. “Please, is that in France? Turn me loose. I can’t move.”

“Come help me,” her sweet voice said. “Help me take these off.” A kiss on his cheek. “Lie still, we are removing the straps. Blair, dear, please lie still.”

The voice, soft and sweet. Lips like warm satin against his skin. The straps fell away, releasing the pressure. His throat was parched so dry he could not ask for water. She knew, though, and lifted his head to hold a glass to his mouth. He gulped the cold liquid until it hurt his teeth and he pushed it away.

Who were these people? Certainly not Prussians, nor Frenchmen. He searched his memory but came up with nothing. Confused and frightened, he locked his gaze on that of the woman who had called him darling and kissed him. If he kept her in his sight, everything might be all right.

“His leg needs to be re-splinted.” A male voice. “I’m going to give him an injection of morphine now.” Before he could object, a none-too-gentle prick had him drifting away, her gentle hand on his forehead.

A delicious smell awoke him. Food cooking. He was so hungry his stomach growled. Distant conversations. Movement back and forth. A cool, wet cloth rubbing his face. Peaceful sounds and muted movements. A blessed dreamless sleep. Enticing. One could easily become dependent on it.

“He’s awake.” A woman. The same voice.

“Sir, how do you feel?” He knew that voice. Simmons. What was he doing here?

“Where am I?” He grabbed the arm, held on. A dream, it had all been a dream, and he still lay in hospital in Paris. Lysette, that was her name. He spoke to her in French, asked what day it was.

Someone sobbed. “Blair, darling, it’s me, Rowena.” Again the sweet calming touch.

“Please, sir. You’re going to be all right. You’re in hospital at Fort Hays. We’re taking good care of you. You can let go. It’s okay.”

“Let go?” He was clutching the hand that lay against his forehead. Holding it as if it kept him from tumbling into nothingness.

A kind, sweet voice. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you, Blair, and I won’t.” He let her go and tried to ask what day it was in English…but the words would not come. All he could do was stare at her.

Do not look away. Keep me safe. He wanted to say this to her, but nothing would come from his mouth.

Someone else entered the room, bringing the delicious aroma of food closer. His mouth watered. “You must be hungry.” Another strange voice, one he could not place.

“Where is she?” he shouted, frightened deep down in the darkness of his soul. Lost, adrift. Dear God, was he dead and this hell? Frustrated, he lashed out, knocked away the tray. “Damn you, what have you done with her?”

Clattering, shouting, shuffling. And pain. Fingers locked around his throbbing wrists, holding him down.

“Watch his leg,” someone said.

What in hell was happening to him?

“Everything will be all right, sir.” Hands on his shoulders, pushing him down, making him feel as if he were drowning.

“No, no. Don’t strap me down again. Don’t. I will be good.”

“They won’t. I won’t let them. But you must lie still before you injure your leg again.”

The voice, so familiar yet unknown, mesmerized him and he relaxed, caught her gaze, and trusted her.

****

Rowena sat beside him, wearing the nightgown they had brought her, touching him, letting him know she was there. His beautiful hair, plastered to his head by sweat and the filth they’d dragged him through. And in his eyes, when he awoke, a terrified panic. A reflection of the horror of the war, as if he were still on the battlefield. She continued to massage his temple and hold his hand tightly.

A nurse came in, hovered close by.

“May I wash his hair?” Rowena asked.

The nurse gave her such a look of profound sorrow it brought tears to her eyes. “Of course, dear. I’ll bring a wash pan and warm water and soap. That would make him feel so much better, I think. How dreadful. You know, each time we have a patient like him I want to lay my hands on those who invented war, and tear their very hearts from their chests.”

“Well, do me a favor and include that awful sheriff in your punishment. He did this to him.”

The nurse patted her shoulder. “I’m so very sorry. I’ll be right back.” She hustled away, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the long hallway.

Blair opened his eyes, looked all around, then found her and locked on once again, dark eyes pleading. Still saying nothing.

“It will be okay, sweetheart. You will be okay.”

Whether he understood, she could not tell.

The nurse returned, pushing a cart with towels, a bowl and pitcher, and a bar of soap. “I’m sorry this is the only soap we have, but it will clean his hair just fine. Would you like me to do it?”

Rowena turned back toward the bed to find him watching her intently. “No, I’d like to.”

“I’ll help you move him a bit so we won’t get the bed wet.”

Together they shifted him sideways so his head lay near the edge of the bed, and folded a towel there to soak up the water. Rowena slid the chair around to hold the wash pan. “Blair, I’m going to wash your hair. Lean back a bit so you won’t get soap in your eyes.”

He obeyed, tilting his head off the edge of the bed. She poured the warm water through his hair, then lathered the soap in her hands and worked her fingers through the matted, gritty strands. All the while, tears poured down her cheeks. She couldn’t seem to stop them.

“I’ll bring some more water to rinse out the soap.” The nurse took the pitcher and left.

Careful in case he had abrasions on his scalp, Rowena massaged his head gently with her fingertips. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Sweetheart, would you talk to me, please? I’m worried about you.”

He coughed, cleared his throat, lips forming words that would not come out.

“Do you know where you are?”

He shook his head, eyes coming to life.

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry you are frightened.” She then explained where they were and a bit of what had happened.

He watched her lips as if reading them, some of the confusion leaving his features. She continued to wash his hair because he appeared to enjoy her fingers running over his scalp.

“And now we are waiting for James Lee to arrange a hearing. You will go home soon, he says.”

The nurse returned with water and helped her rinse the soap out. She wrapped a towel around his head, and they moved him to a more comfortable position. While the nurse cleaned up and gathered everything onto the cart, Rowena gently worked the towel over his hair, then kissed him on the forehead, on each eyelid and cheek, and on the lips, her tears wetting his face so she had to dry them away. And all the while he remained silent, his gaze unnerving. Why didn’t he say something? He barely responded to the kisses.

She sat beside him till he fell asleep, still clutching her hand. She pried her fingers loose, crept behind the screen, and changed into the dress Marguerite had sent with Tyra when she and James Lee returned to Hays that morning. Grady had brought it to her and now waited in the hallway, where James Lee was in consultation with Ellis County Judge Eldon Conroy, Sheriff Calumet, and the distinguished George Grant, founder of Victoria.

Once dressed, she joined the group to discuss Blair’s problem.

“He does not even know where he is. I tried to explain, but I’m afraid he’s still confused.” She cast a hard glance toward Calumet. “I could not explain why the sheriff did what he did because I do not understand it either. I thank you for coming, Mr. Grant, and you too, Judge Conroy. I hope you can help us. But I would appreciate it if you get this man out of my sight before I scratch his eyes out. I can’t bear to look at him after his cruel treatment of the man who lies in there.”

She whirled and to her own surprise slugged the sheriff on the chin. The blow sent pain shooting through her hand and up her arm, but she did not care. No one did a thing, just stared at her.

Calumet staggered backward, his hat falling to the floor. He shook his head and cradled his chin in one palm, gazing at her. Simmons stepped between the glowering sheriff and Rowena. “Perhaps you should go somewhere else.” He faced the sheriff, his usual cool demeanor exploding in fury. The angry lawman scurried away down the hall.

Grant was as tall as James Lee, but much more rotund. He had a trim white beard and matching head of hair. He cleared his throat and addressed her. “This entire affair is most unfortunate. We will certainly try to help your young man, ma’am.”

He then spoke to Judge Conroy with a heavy British accent. “Lord Prescott has been an exemplary member of our settlement for more than two years. His family goes back for generations. They are not outlaws or lawbreakers of any sort. We in Victoria would appreciate your consideration in this matter. If a hearing could be held in his hospital room, it would be much appreciated.” He ran a finger over his mustache and smiled warmly at Judge Conroy.

Conroy nodded and aimed his stern brown eyes at James Lee. “I understand you are representing the young man in this matter. Is he able to comprehend what he is charged with?”

“At this moment, no, but I believe once he comes out from under the influence of the morphine, he will be able to, sir. He is of perfectly sound mind. We would also like to request a hearing here at the hospital. To move him could permanently damage his leg, if that hasn’t already occurred with that brutal sheriff’s treatment. Prescott suffered additional injuries during his unseemly and violent arrest. His doctor wants him to remain here another day, at least, before going home. Holding the hearing would speed things up for the court and us. There is not a shred of evidence against my client.”

Conroy held up a hand. “That’s to be determined at the hearing, but I do agree, and we can hold the hearing as soon as he is awake, provided the doctor pronounces him fit to hear and understand the charges.”

At that moment a ruckus erupted inside Blair’s room. The noise of breaking dishes and shouting reached them.

“Sounds like he’s awake,” James Lee said.

Grady was the first into the room, followed closely by Rowena and Simmons. The others hung back, for the place was astir with activity.

Grady stepped through the breakfast scattered over the floor and spread a big hand on Blair’s shoulder, easily putting a stop to his struggle to sit up.

“Captain, you need to settle down now, ’fore these good folks take it in their heads you might need tied down again. Come on, Captain.”

The nurse glanced up. “It was my fault. I startled him awake when I brought his tray. His arm hit it and knocked it to the floor. It was my fault. He did nothing wrong.”

Rowena pushed her way to his other side while the young nurse tried to explain what had happened.

“Please, let me.” She took his arm, and the harried nurse backed up, murmuring, “Gladly.”

“Blair, darling. Come on. Everything’s okay. I was just out in the hall. You need to quiet down now.”

The moment she began to speak, his tensed limbs calmed. Terrified, puzzled dark eyes gazed into hers. Dear God, where was he, and would he ever return to her?

“You have to let these people take care of you, so we can go home.”

He was so afraid, she couldn’t bear to think of what might be going on in his mind. The darkness that dwelt there would frighten anyone. With the back of her hand she smoothed his cheeks, and at last he closed his eyes, never letting go of her.

Doctor Proctor, whom she had met earlier and who had only just come into the room, spoke. “I’ve seen this before. Soldier’s heart they called it during the Civil War. Dreadful war, that Franco-Prussian disaster, but then, isn’t all war dreadful? He’ll be fine. Just give him a chance to get his bearings.”

As he spoke, he took Blair’s pulse, listened to his heart, and kept up the monologue in his soothing voice.

Blair’s gaze went from following his every move to studying Rowena.

“Not unusual for some men to experience this type of upset, sometimes many years after their service. Don’t you worry, dear.” He patted her arm and glanced back at Blair, who lay peacefully, still clutching her hand. “He seems to be attached to you. These men don’t usually develop close friendships. You see, they’ve lost so many friends in the battles that they fear if they attach themselves to someone, they too will be taken away or will leave them.”

She lifted Blair’s hand, kissed it. “Will he be forever damaged, or can he get over it?” She feared what the answer would be and wished she hadn’t asked.

“Hard to say. Some learn to handle their emotional turmoil”—he patted her hand that clutched Blair’s—“especially when someone truly cares for them. Others become dangerous to themselves or others and have to be committed. Has he ever hurt you?”

“No, he has not. And I will not allow him to be committed.”

He nodded without reply, then moved to examine Blair’s leg. When finished, he instructed the nurse in an undertone Rowena couldn’t hear.

“The judge wishes to speak to you.” She gestured toward the hallway where Grant and Conroy remained in conversation.

The doctor patted her hand and left.

“Can he have something to eat now?” She eyed the young man cleaning up the tray and the food scattered over the floor.

“I’ll bring another tray,” the nurse said. “Doctor said there’s no reason he can’t eat what he wants. But I’m going to let you give it to him.” She grinned wryly. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

Rowena smiled back at her. “I don’t mind in the least. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Oh, we’re used to these kinds of shenanigans from our boys. They deserve a bit of understanding, don’t you think?”

“I certainly do. I will just sit here with him, if you don’t mind.”

“Doctor says you’re to be allowed to remain with him, seein’ as how you quiet him so.”

Rowena batted her eyes to keep from shedding any more tears. There had been quite enough of that. Judge Conroy appeared to be cognizant of the situation. If Blair could remain awake and alert after he ate his breakfast, the judge would listen to the witnesses and let the sheriff present his evidence, then make a decision as to whether Blair would be held for trial or set free. Blair did not actually have to speak for himself, and James Lee, acting as his lawyer, said he would not be asked to. Earlier, Judge Conroy had assured her that if a trial had to be held, Blair could pay a bond and return to Fairhaven until it was scheduled.

Sheriff Calumet spluttered something to the effect that the way Blair was acting only proved he was violent. The judge ignored him.

“There’s really nothing Calumet can do once the judge rules,” James Lee told her while they waited at Blair’s bedside for his second breakfast to be delivered.

Propped up by pillows, his eyes were closed as if he slept, though he continued to hold her hand tightly.

“What about the charges the sheriff brought against Blair, Simmons, Grady, and me for assaulting officers of the law?”

“Under the circumstances, I would imagine a small fine will settle that. Calumet was in the wrong when he made the arrests with such unnecessary force. Course you did pop him one in front of the judge, but my guess is we’ll be on our way back to Fairhaven as soon as the doctor releases Blair. I think we might consider lodging a complaint against the sheriff. What he did was absolutely uncalled for.”

Blair squeezed her hand. “Rowena?”

Startled, she bent down and kissed his cheek. “Yes, do you need something?”

“That is you. I thought…I was in Paris. Strangest thing. Why am I here? What happened to me?” He held up his bandaged wrists.

Explaining it to him once again, she brought him up to date, then kissed him on the mouth. He responded with a gentleness that nearly broke her heart. To lighten the mood, she said, “You were speaking French again.”

Before he could explain, his breakfast arrived. A plate of fried eggs, ham, potatoes, a chunk of bread buttered lavishly, and a cup of coffee.

“Not exactly an English breakfast, but it looks wonderful. Would you like to sit up to eat?”

“Yes, please.”

James Lee helped her lift him to a sitting position and prop more pillows at his back. She slid the tray onto his lap, spread the napkin under his chin, and handed him the eating utensils. He attacked the food with such vigor that she and James Lee laughed. He glanced up and grinned before stuffing another bite in his mouth.

Relief spread through her in such a rush she had to stifle a joyful shout. It was as if he had completely recovered from an unendurable emotional and physical experience.

Blair mopped up the last of the runny egg yolks with a chunk of bread, washed it down with black coffee, laid down the utensils, and leaned back. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his stomach. “Cowboys sure do know how to eat, don’t they? What’s next? When can we go home?”

James Lee explained the process that would occur, including that Rowena, as a witness, could not stay with him but had to wait outside. James Lee said that he would be with him. Blair assured her he was ready to get it over with.

After Doctor Proctor declared Blair sound of mind, Judge Conroy led the witnesses into the hospital room. Annie and Lizza had been fetched after James Lee and the judge discussed the hearing the day before, so they were there too. Sheriff Calumet filed in with Colonel Crouch and two deputies, one wearing a sling on his arm and a ferocious frown. The group filled the room.

The judge explained that he would hear all their stories. The witnesses would wait outside until their turn came to testify, but Blair, being the one charged with murder, would remain during the hearing. James Lee would ask questions of the witnesses, presenting his case for Blair, then the sheriff, the colonel, and the two deputies would tell their side. There would be no shouting, no disruptions, or he would cheerfully charge the disrupter with contempt. Everyone nodded that they understood, the witnesses were escorted out, and the hearing began.

Lizza, who had not been present during the altercation between Barton Crouch and the others, could only testify to her husband’s state of mind. Rowena knew precisely what the girl would say. She’d heard it that day at the clinic when she first met Lizza.

Rowena sat outside the room with the others on a hard wooden bench set there by a couple of men who could have been staff or patients. First Simmons, then Annie, then Grady filed in when called upon by the nurse who had been asked to act as clerk. Each one went inside, then returned looking relieved. Rowena took a deep breath when the door swung open and her name was called. One small white lie had to be maintained. And that was that they were the only ones in the room. Calder and Wilda had to be kept out of this. If any of the others had mentioned them, their demeanor didn’t reveal the slip.

Blair remained propped up in his bed, and he lifted a hand toward her when she entered. She wiggled her fingers back at him, and he smiled. Despite all he’d been through, he appeared alert, if a bit haggard, his face battered.

James Lee asked her to tell exactly what had happened the day Barton Crouch was shot and killed at Fairhaven. And she did, concluding with Blair’s lifting the gun from his sickbed and shooting the man who had already fired several times around the room.

Sheriff Calumet asked if he could ask a question, and the judge allowed it. She squirmed in the chair they’d provided for witnesses. The man frightened her after the way he’d dragged Blair around so viciously. She wanted to smack him again, but it probably was not a good idea.

He rose and stared at her, a plaster on his chin. She stared right back. “Did any of the fired shots hit anyone in the room?”

“I…no, of course not. One went in the pillow next to Blair’s head.”

“That’s all. I contend that the man was only threatening, or he would have shot someone in that room, Judge. He didn’t need to be killed.”

James Lee rose to his feet. “The defense would like to state for the record that Blair Prescott did not have time to aim precisely and simply wound the man. All were in danger when Crouch continued to pull the trigger.”

Judge Conroy said, “Duly noted,” and gestured for James Lee to be seated.

“Thank you, Lady Prescott,” Judge Conroy said, waving a hand of dismissal.

Her hands shook, and she could only look at the floor when she left. If she met the sheriff’s gaze, he’d guess she might not be telling everything she knew. But as long as they all stuck to their stories, Calder would not be involved. If the law learned he’d been involved in a shooting in Kansas, he could be tracked down and arrested. He had nothing to do with what had happened, so there was no reason to involve him in any way, and she didn’t feel guilty. It was hard to lie, that was all, even if for a good cause.

No one said anything as they sat outside and waited for the judge’s decision as to whether there would be a trial. Even the outgoing Grady remained silent at Annie’s side, holding her hand in both of his. Funny how holding the hand of someone you loved was so soothing to the heart and soul.

Watching Blair inside during her testimony, all she’d wanted was to go to him and hold him. Though he was aware he’d shot Crouch, he did not remember it, and so it must have been difficult for him to listen to four people attest to it. She was glad that James Lee had decided not to question him as to what he might recall, for he might have remembered Calder and Wilda being at Fairhaven. She had mentioned that they needed to be kept out of it, but he might not remember.

Finally, the door opened, and the nurse/clerk told them they could all return. Rowena hurried in first, going to sit beside Blair in case the news was bad. No telling what he might do. Would she ever be absolutely sure how he would react to even the simplest occurrences? But no matter. He loved her and she loved him, and together they would handle whatever came up.

She held her breath, fingers intertwined in his, when Judge Conroy began to speak. “It is my opinion that the prosecution has not presented sufficient evidence for the defendant to be held over for trial. As to the charges of assaulting officers of the law, I have chastised Sheriff Calumet for his handling of the arrest and cleared Blair Prescott, Mr. Simmons, Grady Jones, and Rowena Duncan Prescott of the charges. You can all go home.”

The sheriff threw his hat on the floor, his face red as a beet, ready to splutter a protest. Judge Conroy pounded his gavel and gave him a stern look. Rowena kissed Blair on the mouth in front of everyone, and he kissed her back soundly before Judge Conroy came to his bedside and offered his hand.

“I want to apologize to you, son, for what happened, and assure you that as long as I’m judge of this county, that sort of thing will not be tolerated. You take care now, the both of you.” He nodded at Rowena and left, a scowling Colonel Crouch right behind him, muttering something she couldn’t hear. He wasn’t pleased, that she could tell.

He could say all he wanted now. It was over and done with.

Once the room had cleared, Doctor Proctor came in. “Congratulations, son. I’m glad it went that way for you. We need to try to get you some help for your, um, other problems.”

He looked so serious that Rowena dropped down into the chair beside Blair’s bed. “I understood this was an army hospital. I thought you would send him back to his doctor in Victoria for treatment.”

“It is, ma’am. But you should know that this is the finest hospital in this region, and as such we do treat civilians. While Blair here is technically a civilian, he is a veteran of the Franco-Prussian War.” He smiled. “A foreign war, true, but les Zuoaves were and are some of the finest fighting men in the world, and some took part in our Civil War.” He glanced at Blair, who watched him intently. “Your training and experience with them is probably what saved you from serious injury during that altercation with Sheriff Calumet.

“I’d like to try something on that leg of yours, son. After the splint comes off, it’s going to be weak because of the crushing of the muscles and tendons.”

Blair’s hand tightened on hers. “Will I be able to walk?”

“I think I can help you, if you’re ready to do some work yourself.”

Blair nodded. Rowena swallowed so hard her throat clicked. The doctor had not answered Blair’s question, and that worried her. Whatever happened with the leg, she would always love him, but Blair would never be content if he couldn’t do the things he enjoyed. The times he would ride alone throughout the night he’d come in flushed with excitement. It was his way of escaping some of his demons, and he needed that outlet.

“Because of all this rough treatment, I’m suggesting that we leave the splint on another three weeks. So let’s wait till after the Christmas holidays, and then I want you to return. Till then, do not put your full weight on the leg. You may use crutches, but you’re to be very careful. A young man will be in to help you learn to use them properly. Traverse the halls a few times so we can make sure you have the knack. Then I think you can go on home tomorrow.”

Blair finally managed to speak. “What happens when I return here?”

“I’d like to put a leather brace from the ankle to the knee. We will take measurements today so as to make it fit precisely. It will help support the leg and carry some of the weight so you can walk and strengthen those muscles. We will continue to loosen the brace over time until your own muscles and bone can take over.”

Rowena shifted in her chair. “How long will that take?”

“Depends on young Mr. Prescott here. Under the best of circumstances, I would say that by spring you’ll be walking, providing you work hard enough. You may have to continue to wear the brace.”

“Can he ride?” she asked.

“Ride? On horseback? Perhaps we’ll take that as it comes. I’m not familiar with what it takes to mount up and support oneself. Aren’t the legs involved in the act of riding a horse?”

Blair laughed nervously. “Well, certainly. More so with an English saddle than a Western saddle. But trotting or galloping calls for more support from both legs.”

“Then I should say you could start with the horse walking, using a Western saddle, and see how it goes. I do understand that you mount from the left side. Your strong left leg would do the work in that instance.”

Rowena grinned at him. “I find it strange that a doctor who practices in a hospital in Kansas doesn’t know anything about horseback riding.”

“I practiced in Boston until a few weeks ago, and was never around so many people riding horses. I only came out here because this hospital has such a good reputation and I wanted to come west. All those stories we heard about outlaws and Indians and the cavalry… Sounded so exciting.”

Blair laughed. “Well, have you found it to be so?”

“Indeed I have. You, my good fellow, added to that excitement considerably.”

“I apologize if I did or said anything inappropriate, especially to your fine staff, and you too, of course. I was not myself for a while there.”

Proctor studied the file open in his lap. “Which brings me to another suggestion. I can help heal your body, but I’m not much for…”—he gestured as if embarrassed—“for the dreadful tricks our minds can play on us.”

Blair stiffened, and Rowena readied herself for a blowup. Instead, he kept quiet, waiting for the doctor’s next words.

“In my experience, it would be best for you if you could talk to someone you trust about what’s going on in there.” He tapped his temple.

Silence. She swung from watching the doctor to studying Blair. Dear God, don’t let him go all crazy. They’ll want to put him away, just like Doctor Weatherby suggested.

“Could I speak to you alone?” Blair said, releasing her hand.

It felt like a hole had opened up and swallowed her. How could he want to exclude her when he claimed to trust her and no one else? Hurt and angry, she rose. “I will just be outside.” She wasn’t out the door before the tears came.

****

Blair waited a long time after Rowena walked stiffly from the room. When he began to speak, he had to clear his throat several times.

“I know I hurt her. But I cannot, will not, tell her of the dark monsters that dwell in my mind. Certainly I cannot speak to her of the terrible things I’ve done in battle. I’m afraid she would not stay with me, and she’s all that holds me together, yet those things I just can’t—”

“Of course not, son. There’s a woman in Victoria who would hold all you say in strictest confidence. And she understands that what you have to say may be horrific, but you need to spill the filth out of where it lurks.” Again he tapped his temple. “Inside here.”

“You mean the phrenologist?” He released a long breath. “Rowena has begged me to see this woman—what is her name? I’ve forgotten. Rowena would be fine with that. It would not hurt her. And I will not hurt her. Not ever. She is my life.”

“And you hers. That is clear from her actions of the last few days. You surely realize that your sweet wife protected you, guarded you, lost sleep to see nothing happened to you.”

Blair nodded. “I know. I owe her more than I can ever repay. However, I shall spend my life trying to make it up to her. If that’s at all possible. But what of this woman?”

“I’m speaking of Hildegarde Smythe. I suggest that you make an appointment. I believe if you were able to pay her accordingly, she could be persuaded to come to your place once or twice a week. Please do try it. I know it will help. You can tell her anything. Anything at all. And I’ll expect you the week after Christmas holidays, to be fitted for your brace.”

“I will think about the other. It’s hard for me to imagine pouring out my guts to a stranger. I’d like to get Rowena back in here now, please. I know she’s upset, but I didn’t want her to hear what I might say.”

Proctor rubbed a hand over his thin gray hair as he stuck out the other hand to shake with Blair. “I’ll send her in. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you. It was reprehensible.”

When she returned, her eyes were red, but she managed a smile. Blair held out his arms. “Come here, love.”

She ran to him, and he folded her up in a tight hug, kissing her ear and her throat. “Dear heart, I did not mean to hurt you, and that’s why I asked you to step out.” He returned to trailing kisses, between her breasts, then nuzzling, snorting and growling so that she laughed.

“We’re going home,” he said against the warmth of her skin. “And I want you in my arms in my bed. I know I have on occasion instructed you differently. But we shall simply have to be very careful. I would not hurt you for the world, but accidents can happen.”

“I promise to be careful. Anything so we can be together.” She hugged him so tight his breath was shut off. When she released him, he laughed. “Hmm, it was nice in there, but a bit stuffy.”

She managed a smile. “That’s only the beginning, your lordship. Hope you know I’ve always loved you.”

“And I you. I love you, my darling. You can’t ever know how much. And what you’ve done for me these past few days, I’ll never forget that. Proctor spoke of your special care, Simmons has also told me how devoted you’ve been to me.”

“I only wish I could have stopped the violent actions of that sheriff. If I ever get him alone in a dark alley, I’m going to beat him senseless.”

Blair laughed. “My tough little defender. Come here. Is there room for you in here?” He patted his bed.

The other bed in which she’d slept while caring for him had been moved away for the hearing. She lifted her legs to curl in beside him, and at that moment a young man hustled through the door carrying a pair of crutches.

“Blair Prescott?” His voice was that of a youth eager to please. “Name is Horace, and I’m to help you learn to use these.” Only then did he spot the couple on the bed. “Ah, sorry to interrupt. I’d tell you to continue with what you’re doing, but I’m afraid I have other patients to attend to and we need to get busy.”