Isabel knelt next to Theodore’s limp body, frozen. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she thought it might explode, breaking through her ribcage. He lay there, pale and motionless, covered in blood. The room, which had just been filled with the loud echo of the gunshot and yells from the men, was eerily silent. Sheriff Norris had wrestled Ellis outside, and most of the posse members followed.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Theodore.
He can’t be dead! He just can’t be!
“Please, wake up. Please, don’t leave me,” she whispered, her tears falling on his face.
Timmy’s loud cry from the couch jolted her back to reality. She jumped up and ran to their little boy. Her hands shook as she scooped him up from the sofa and held him close. She clung to him tightly and pressed a kiss onto his forehead.
“I’ll go for Doctor Miller,” one of the posse members said as he ran to the door.
“Please let Abigail know what happened and ask her to come here,” Mick called after the man.
He raised his hand, acknowledging that he heard Mick, as the door slammed behind him.
Jacob knelt beside Theodore, his face pale. “Come on, pal. You can’t let him win.”
“We need to get him to his bed,” Mick said. “Help me lift him.”
“Careful,” Jacob warned, his voice rough. “We don’t want to make it worse.”
Isabel’s heart was in her throat as she watched the two men carefully pick her husband off the floor and carry him into his room. She was terrified that they would hurt him more, but they couldn’t leave him lying there like he was.
Isabel trailed behind, holding Timmy against her chest as her entire body shook. She couldn’t stop crying. She felt so helpless. Her entire world was collapsing around her, and she could do nothing to stop it.
Timmy was very quiet and laid his head on Isabel’s chest. He was either exhausted from the events or sensed her mood—maybe a little of both.
Jacob and Mick gently laid Theodore down on the bed. Isabel hovered nearby, her breath catching in her throat. He was covered in blood. His shirt was soaked through, and the fabric clung to his skin.
Can someone lose that much blood and still survive?
“I need towels,” Jacob said tersely.
Isabel ran to grab some and set them next to Jacob. She watched as Jacob pressed one against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Biting on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, Isabel wanted to do something, anything, to help save him, but she couldn’t.
I love him so much, and he finally admitted that he loves me, too. I can’t lose him. I just can’t.
It was as if someone was ripping her heart out of her chest.
“He’s going to be alright,” Jacob said, glancing at Isabel. “The doctor will be here soon, and Doc Miller is one of the best.”
Isabel briefly wondered if he was trying to comfort her or himself.
The minutes felt like an eternity. All she could do was stand there, holding the baby, watching Mick and Jacob take turns holding the towel on Theodore’s chest.
Robert and the rest of the men crowded the bedroom.
“Is he gonna be alright?” Jeb asked.
“Yeah. Theodore isn’t going to let the likes of Ellis Turner take him down,” Jacob said, offering everyone a weak smile.
The men stood against the wall, each of them pale-faced. They stared at Theodore, willing him to survive the gunshot wound.
Isabel’s heart raced, and even though she tried to tell herself that Jacob was right, she couldn’t fight off the horrible thoughts that flooded her mind.
What if he doesn’t make it? What if the doctor can’t save him? How can I survive without him?
Isabel realized that Theodore had slowly become a part of her without her knowing it. Losing him would mean losing a part of her soul.
Finally, after what seemed like a century, the door burst open, and the doctor rushed in with his bag in his hand.
“Everyone but Isabel, Jacob, and Mick out,” he ordered. “I need some room.
Jeb held his arms out for the baby.
Timmy smiled at the man and said, “Jeb.”
“That’s right, Timmy. Yer just come with me while the doc looks after yer daddy.”
Isabel was grateful for the gentle old man. She knew he would die before he let anything happen to Timmy.
The doctor hurried to Theodore’s side, pushing Jacob and Mick out of the way so he could get a closer look. Isabel watched, biting her bottom lip so hard that she tasted blood. She shifted from one foot to the other, sending a silent prayer that Theodore would survive.
Finally, the doctor said, “I think the bullet nicked his lung. He’s lost a lot of blood, but I’ve seen worse.” He met Isabel’s eyes. “I can’t make any promises, but you know that I’ll do the very best that I can to save him.”
Isabel nodded, her throat too closed up to speak. She sucked in a huge breath as the doctor poured whiskey over the wound to disinfect it and wash away some of the blood. Cringing, she could only imagine how bad that would sting if Theodore was awake to feel it.
She, Jacob, and Mick watched in silence as Doctor Miller worked to retrieve the bullet. He used a long, thin, metal probe to locate the bullet.
“Found it,” he muttered under his breath.
He grabbed a pair of long tweezers off the bed and inserted them into the hole. The doctor angled the instrument and slowly pulled the bullet out, then dropped it into a small metal bowl. The loud clank echoed through the room.
Isabel clenched her fists, bit her bottom lip, and tried to remember to breathe. Her heart raced, and she blinked several times, trying not to cry again. Her knees grew weak, and she grabbed the wall to steady herself.
Doctor Miller poured more alcohol over the wound and carefully bandaged it. He finally straightened up and wiped his hands on a rag. “The bullet’s out. His lung is damaged, and some ribs are broken, but he’ll survive if infection doesn’t set in. That’s the biggest risk right now.”
Her breath hitched.
She knew how easily infection could set in and take over.
The doctor added, “You’ll need to stay with him and keep a constant eye on him.”
As if on cue, Abigail arrived. She pushed her way into the room and wasted no time putting her hand on Isabel’s arm. “I’ll help you with Timmy, meals, and whatever else you need so you can take care of him.”
Isabel nodded gratefully, feeling some of the weight lift from her shoulders.
At least I have someone standing with me. I won’t be alone in this.
Over the next few days, Isabel barely left Theodore’s side. She nursed him the best that she could, changing his bandages and cleaning the wounds, carefully following the doctor’s instructions.
Theodore slept a lot. When he woke up, he was cranky and frustrated because Isabel wouldn’t let him out of bed.
“The doctor said you couldn’t move yet. The more you fight it, the more you move around, the longer you’ll be stuck in bed.”
Theodore grumbled under his breath but stayed where he was except to use the bathroom. Then, he went straight back to bed. Every time he tried to get up, Isabel put her foot down.
“You have to listen to me. You’re staying put. I’m not losing you just because you’re too stubborn to stay in bed.”
Sometimes, Isabel read the Bible to him. He also had a decent collection of other books that she read to him, such as Moby Dick, The Last of the Mohicans, and some Shakespeare.
Isabel asked him about the books.
“My grandmother was from out East and brought them with her when she married. She insisted that I was educated. Grandfather argued that I didn’t need to know anything other than how to read, write, and do arithmetic enough to run the ranch. Grandmother won the debate,” Theodore said. “It was the only time I ever saw her challenge him on anything.”
Once in a while, while he was sleeping, Isabel would slip her hand into Theodore’s. Her heart beat a little faster when she felt his fingers curl around hers. She didn’t know if he did it on purpose or if it was some kind of reflex, but she took it as a great sign that he had meant it when he told her he loved her.
Abigail brought Timmy to see Theodore a couple of times a day. The baby seemed to know that Theodore was injured and sat still next to him. Isabel smiled when they carried on long, nonsense conversations. Seeing the tenderness with which Theodore treated Timmy filled her heart with warmth.
She finally felt like she could breathe as she watched Theodore improve each day. She hadn’t lost him, and they had a real chance to be a family. Several times, she caught Theodore looking at her strangely, and she wanted to ask him what he was thinking. She was afraid to press him too much, though. The last thing Theodore needed was to be stressed out while trying to heal.
Jacob and Mick visited often, as did the rest of the ranch hands. Theodore was constantly worried about the ranch, grilling Jacob. Jacob assured him that the ranch was fine. Since Ellis had been arrested, nothing else had happened. The cattle were safe, the new calves had been born and were healthy, and the men were taking care of everything.
Isabel knew Theodore was chomping at the bit, anxious to return to work. He knew the ranch was in good hands with Jacob and the men, but he was still afraid of losing everything he had worked so hard for.
The doctor came every other day to check on Theodore, and Isabel was relieved when he delivered the news that they had all been waiting for.
“He’s healing well. His breathing seems to be fine, so I’m crossing my fingers that there was no permanent hard damage done to his lung. He can get up now, but only for light work. There will be no heavy lifting or riding across the plains. You have to take it slow.”
“There’s no light work on a ranch,” Theodore grumbled.
“Fine, stay in bed another three weeks,” Doctor Miller said.
Isabel hid a grin as Theodore sighed heavily and agreed to the doctor’s terms.
The next day, Abigail packed up and prepared to leave. Mick was coming with the wagon to take her home that evening.
“Thank you so much,” Isabel managed to say, her throat clogged with emotion. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’ve never had a friend like you before.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Abigail grinned, her gaze softening. “We’re more than friends; we’re family. You’re like the sister I’ve never had.”
Mick and Theodore chatted for just a few minutes. He was eager to get back into town before it got dark.
“You call on me if you need anything,” Mick said. “You can send one of your men, and I’ll be here.”
Isabel was sure Theodore was genuinely touched and pleased with Mick’s words. The man had proven to be a good friend and loyal to him.
Abigail hugged Isabel tightly, promising to come back if she was needed. At the promise, warmth surged through her, reminding her that she was never truly alone.
Later that night, after Theodore went to bed and Timmy was tucked into his crib, Isabel sat outside, staring into the night sky. The moon was bright and full of promise. Something in her soul told her that everything was going to be good.