Chapter 5 #2
“No, I’m quite fine. There are a few things I’m giving away to other people here, but I can manage that myself.
” She lowered her voice with a quick glance in the direction of Rebecca’s apartment.
“Thank you for helping me. They struggle to keep their heads above water, and they’re quite proud and hate to take charity.
I confess that I included a few new things that I bought specifically for them.
I figured by stressing to Rebecca that they were doing me a favor taking the stuff off my hands that they wouldn’t be hesitant to take it. ”
“You’ve a tender heart, Carrie Vogel. I’ve known that since I first met you.” Spencer lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
Carrie’s breath caught in the back of her throat, and her eyes widened.
“See, looking like that you’re going to raise all sorts of suspicions with your folks. You better start practicing for this new role, or no one is ever going to believe you’re madly in love with me.”
She watched him go, chuckling to himself as if he’d just told a great joke. She pulled her hand to her chin, rather stupefied by what he’d done. Still, he made a good point. She was going to have to work at this or her parents would immediately see that something was wrong.
The pain was blinding, and the only thing Eugene could do was seek the comfort of his darkened bedroom. He buried his head under the pillow and moaned in agony. The mornings were always the worst.
The doctor in Denver had told him to expect the pain to worsen.
The dizziness had started causing him some nausea as well, but at least his vision seemed stable today.
Of course, with the pain he had little desire to read, which was a monumental disappointment.
Reading was one of his few pleasures, and a new crate of books had just arrived from London the day before.
Would he live long enough to read them all?
The doctors in Denver held little hope for him. They had given him suggestions for dealing with the pain and had given him a liquid opium mixture that was deemed stronger than laudanum.
“Take it sparingly,” the doctor had warned. “It’s quite powerful and will render you unable to do much but sleep.”
Sleep wasn’t at all what he wanted to do. In death, he would sleep enough. At this moment in time, his desire was to see to his mother’s needs and perhaps locate a doctor who had a differing opinion as to what might be done to alter his condition.
Of course, there was still Kansas City and Chicago.
He had heard of doctors there who were making great strides in brain-related surgeries.
The physician in Denver thought it would be a waste of time for Eugene to travel so far.
He stressed that Eugene could suffer any number of problems before the tumor ended his life.
The pain began to subside a bit. Clear thought returned to remind Eugene that there was far too much to accomplish to succumb to the misery just yet. He’d seen the lawyer and made arrangements for his mother, but there was still other work to do.
He rolled to his side and took the pillow away.
The small amount of light that filtered into the room from beneath the window shade forced him to look away.
It still exacerbated the pain. He closed his eyes, and for reasons beyond his understanding, he thought again of that day in Philadelphia when he’d killed the Pinkerton.
Eugene had known the moment the man appeared that he meant business. It was Duval’s intention to take Eugene to trial for his sins. And if he couldn’t get his prisoner willingly, he would take him by force, even kill him if necessary. His drawn and cocked revolver made that much clear.
Eugene hadn’t ever planned to take a life. Even after his brothers had been killed, he didn’t want that kind of retribution. But the man was determined to end his life, and that Eugene could not allow.
As they raced down the alleyway, Eugene had fired a warning shot.
He’d hoped it would scare off the agent.
Unfortunately, that only caused the man to be more determined to catch him.
Eugene had pulled back against the wall behind some piles of trash.
It was poor refuge, offering very little protection, but it allowed him to wait for the Pinkerton to catch up.
Why couldn’t the man have stopped his pursuit? The war was over. Why not just stop hunting him and let bygones be bygones? Eugene hadn’t taken his money, and it wasn’t like a few thousand dollars had set the government on its ear.
“It’s not what I wanted,” he muttered.
Then the terrified and anguished face of the Pinkerton’s son came to mind. The boy couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve. He was devastated by his father’s death. It was clear to see that the two had been very close. After all, here the boy was with his father on a day of celebration.
Eugene had looked into the eyes of that poor boy and known the agony he felt.
For only a moment, he had considered ending the boy’s life to spare him years of misery and nightmares.
But Eugene wasn’t a killer. The death of that man had been a mistake.
He had figured to shoot and graze him—just enough that he would have to stop chasing after him. Why had the man moved?
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Eugene did his best to push those memories aside.
He needed to make his plans for going to Chicago and Kansas City.
He didn’t have time to waste. The doctor in Denver said he might well go blind or suffer a stroke at any given time.
Memories were useless . . . his regrets even more so.
“Well, will you look at this?” Marybeth Vogel said, showing the telegram to her husband.
“What is it?” He took the paper and read the brief message before looking up at his wife.
“She’s coming home?”
“That’s what it says.” Marybeth looked her husband in the eye. “Carrie is moving back to Cheyenne. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“I wonder what’s wrong.”
“Why does anything have to be wrong?”
Edward put the telegram down and raised a brow. “Do you really want to pretend that you think it otherwise?”
Marybeth shook her head. “No. Something’s wrong. I agree.”
“We’ll just need to pray about it and trust the Lord to guide us,” Edward said, getting to his feet. “I’m heading to my men’s Bible study, so I’ll ask them to pray as well.”
“Don’t tell them about the surprise Carrie said she’s bringing. I can’t even begin to imagine what that might be, and I certainly don’t want others speculating.”
Edward took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. Pulling back, he grinned. “I won’t say a word about the surprise.”
Marybeth sighed and watched her husband go. Her mind raced with thoughts. Carrie had once said she’d never come back to Cheyenne, that she thrived on the big city life and all the amenities such places offered. When they had visited her, it was easy to see that Chicago agreed with her in every way.
A new thought came to mind, causing Marybeth to bite her lip.
What if the surprise had to do with the man Carrie had engaged herself to?
What if they had married already? The idea made Marybeth a little queasy.
She didn’t like Dr. Oswald Nelson. He had been arrogant and far too full of himself for Marybeth’s taste.
When they’d all gone to dinner together, Oswald had talked on and on about himself.
Marybeth had even asked him why he wanted to marry Carrie, and the answer came in rather vague comments about his own needs and desires.
She glanced upward. “Oh, Lord, please don’t let her have married that man.”