Chapter 56
DODGE LOWERED HER TO THE BED, and Josephine sank down onto it, the pain in her palm excruciating.
But knowing that Clay Darden was somewhere near her, alive—and that God had allowed it—caused a different and somehow even more excruciating pain.
If the Almighty did still know the details of her life, so much for him caring enough to step into them.
Dodge picked up the stool by the hearth and placed it by her bedside.
“Josephine . . .” He glanced behind him to the open cabin door through which Miss Mary and Calla had just left, Miss Mary’s parting glance saying they still wanted details.
“This is not at all how I’d planned on saying this to you, but—” He took her left hand, his gaze filled with emotion.
“You have captured my heart, and I love you. Every morning when I open my eyes, I’m already thinking of you, and I can’t imagine that day without you in it. And I never want to.”
The room swayed slightly. Despite his words resonating, blisters now covered her palm, and it felt like it was on fire. “Dodge, I—”
“Please, let me finish. While I don’t have what I once did to offer you, the sale of the land in Wyoming will still go a long way in providing for a home and a good life. We could leave tomorrow. I’ve already thought it through. You, me, and Bethie, we leave in the morning and go someplace where—”
“Dodge . . .” She looked at him through tears, her strength near gone. “I cannot outrun this. There is nowhere I can go to escape it. It will find me, I see that now.”
“No . . . You’re still thinking in terms of I, Josephine. Not us. We could do this.”
She touched his face, his stubbled jawline, then traced the curve of his mouth. “If I could choose the course for my life, I would choose you,” she whispered. “Again and again. But that’s not a choice I can make. Not anymore.”
“But it is . . .” He kissed her hand and brought it to his chest. “Say the word, and we’ll leave at sunup. We—”
Faint footsteps sounded in the breezeway outside Calla’s cabin. Josephine didn’t even try to pull her hand away, and she sensed he wouldn’t have let go, if she had.
“We’re back,” Miss Mary said softly, her attention on the pitcher of water and basin in her hand, and Calla’s on the cup and saucer she carried. Then they looked up.
Calla gave a small gasp.
But Miss Mary stared with her appraising gaze, a hint of pleasure showing.
“I knew it. Last Saturday night when I stepped onto the porch to say good night, I sensed something between you two. And you still being married, Josephine.” Understanding softened her features.
“But you’re perfect for each other. True North, yet still a little lost,” she said, looking at Dodge.
Her gaze shifted to Josephine. “And knowing where you want to go, but still trying to find your way.”
The room tilted hard, and Josephine swayed.
Calla quickly sat and slipped an arm around her waist. “Here, drink some of this. It’s tea steeped with slippery elm bark. It’ll help clear your throat of all that smoke.”
Josephine took a long sip. The brew had a mild, slightly sweet taste and felt soothing going down, at least at first.
“Speaking of . . .” Miss Mary dragged Calla’s rocker over, her intent clear. But Josephine didn’t have the strength. She looked at Dodge.
“The man you both saw, the one on the ground who’d been badly burned . . . That was Clay Darden.”
“No.” Miss Mary looked between them. “The man from Atlanta? From the newspaper?”
“But how did he know you were here?” Calla asked, looking at Josephine.
“It was clear he didn’t,” Dodge continued.
“Josephine said he looked as surprised as she was when she first saw him. And although we don’t know how, yet, we figure he was somehow part of the group who came for the distillery visit this weekend.
” Dodge briefly bowed his head. “But it all happened when Josephine was leaving the party . . .”
As he recounted what happened, Josephine sipped on the tea and tried to detach herself from the moment.
Her head ached, and she reached back and felt a tender knot at the base of her skull, then remembered hitting a table in the kitchen as she’d fallen.
She wished she could just curl into a ball and sleep for days, and wake up to find this was all a bad dream.
Just hearing Clay Darden’s name twisted her stomach and stirred a familiar fear. Yet she kept telling herself that he’d been badly burned and couldn’t even stand, much less walk. He could no longer physically harm her. Then again, that’s what she’d believed before.
As Dodge continued speaking, Calla’s arm gradually tightened around her waist and tears slipped down her cheeks. Miss Mary’s eyes brimmed with anger and hurt, her hands clutching the arms of the rocker in a white-knuckled grip.
Finally, Calla pulled Josephine close and kissed her temple. “You are one brave woman, I hope you know that.”
“A man like that should be whipped.” Miss Mary swiped a tear away. “And I’ll be first in line.”
“You’ll have to get behind me,” Dodge said, voice hard.
Josephine leaned forward, her hand going to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Calla grabbed a bucket from the hearth and made it back just in time. Dodge sat beside her, holding back her hair.
A few moments later, long past embarrassed, Josephine straightened and wiped her face and mouth with a damp rag from Calla, her right hand still cradled in her lap. She tried to move her fingers the slightest bit, but the pain brought lightheadedness. “Do you think Doc Wyatt’s coming soon?”
Calla rose. “I can go fetch him.”
“No.” Dodge stood. “I’ll go. It’s well past midnight.” He kissed the top of Josephine’s head. “Try to rest, if at all possible. I’ll be back as soon as I can. And please, one of you stay with her. Don’t leave her alone.”
“Don’t you worry.” Miss Mary gestured. “I’ll run check on Bethie, then come right back down. She was still asleep on the settee in the library, Jessie right by her, when I last looked.”
He paused at the door. “I’ll check them on my way out.” He looked back at Josephine, and as much as she wanted to trust the hope in his eyes, the weight of her circumstances wouldn’t let her.
After reheating the water in the pitcher, Miss Mary and Calla helped her clean up and change into a nightgown.
Her contribution . . . somehow managing to stand.
When they finished, she laid down and curled onto her side, smoke still clinging to her hair.
With eyes clenched tight, she counted every heartbeat, wishing Dodge would return with Doc Wyatt. Or at least with the laudanum.
He learned obedience from the things he suffered.
The words Nannie had spoken wove a path through her pain and tears pooled in her eyes, but she welcomed the moisture after the sting of smoke and flame.
All her life, she’d pursued learning, had prided herself on acquiring knowledge, had devoured every book in her father’s library while craving more.
So why did she feel more like a student in this moment than ever before?
Finally, footsteps outside the cabin promised the fading hope of relief from pain, and Miss Mary offered her an encouraging smile as she hurried to the door.
“Good evenin’, Miss Mary.”
“Sheriff Rigby.” Miss Mary’s voice held confusion, and a trace of distrust. “What brings you by this time of night?”
“I’m here to speak with Miss Josephine Dunham.”