Miracle Jones (17 page)

“What happened to your fingers?” Miracle asked gently, since he’d opened the topic.

He grinned like a bandit.
“Got caught stealin’ from the butcher when I was a boy.
He chopped my fingers near clean off!”

Miracle was taken aback by the horror of that.
“He deliberately cut your fingers off?” she cried, aghast.

“Yes, ma’am.
Though I think he was jes’ tryin’ to get rid o’ me.”

Miracle fell silent, warming to Billy.
He, too, had suffered the whims of fate and had somehow survived.
She would survive, too.
She followed him up the wooden ramp that led to the main floor of the barn.
Dry red and gold maple leaves crunched beneath their booted feet.

“How’d you team up with Mr.
Harrison?” Billy asked curiously.

Miracle grimaced.
“It just sort of happened.
He said he lived with his sister and her husband,” Miracle added, her curiosity getting the better of herself in spite of Kelsey.
“Here?”

“Nah.
They got a place over that way.” He gestured farther east.
“And Mr.
Harrison’s bought hisself some prime property for him’n his bride just beyond it.” Billy strode through the gloomy barn.
He snatched the lantern from where it hung on the post and struck a match to it.
Light glowed warmly within the barn.

“When is the wedding?” Miracle managed to choke out.

“Shoulda been last Saturday.
He missed it, on account of bein’ with you, I guess,” Billy added, his face turning scarlet as he considered what that might mean.

Miracle stood in a shaft of lantern light, dust motes swirling lazily in that finger of gold illumination.
Last Saturday?
He should have been married
last
Saturday.
She felt physically sick when she recalled the wanton way she’d lain beneath him, the fevered excitement that took her when he pressed his manhood against her, the hard, melting heat of him deep inside her.

Blind and deaf to everything but the terrible crashing inside her ears, she stumbled back toward the ramp.
Injun whore.
The name that long-ago bully had called her mother ran through Miracle’s mind.

How could she have been so utterly foolish?
And she couldn’t even blame Harrison, because he didn’t know!

She ran headlong into a wall of flesh.
Hard arms closed around her, and Harrison’s startled voice said, “Hey!
Whoa.
I’ve been looking for you.”

“Let me go!
I’ve got to go!”

“Miracle.”

The rasp of anguish in his voice stopped her cold.
Miracle ceased all movement except her furious heartbeat.

“My mother is ill,” he said.
Through the haze of her own misery Miracle heard the worry that consumed him.
“She’s been asking for Belinda, but Belinda’s gone.”

Miracle blinked, her mind dull.
She didn’t know who he was talking about.

“And Tremaine doesn’t want to see Belinda anyway,” Harrison said in a low, angry tone.
“Neither do I.
But she’s in a fever and she needs someone.
Will you see her?
Talk to her, give her hope, or a prayer, or whatever you do.”

Miracle then understood.
Though Harrison had no faith in her powers as an herbalist, his mother wanted one.
The much-maligned faith healer, Belinda, was unavailable.
Miracle, the Indian medicine woman, would have to do.

Hurt, Miracle nevertheless understood that he was giving her a chance to prove her worth.
But her need to escape was so strong.
It was nearly impossible to believe he didn’t know about their lovemaking, yet apart from that one lapse, when he’d pressed her back against the wagon bed, he’d been a perfect gentleman.

All in all, he’d treated her with respect, and that was why, Miracle discovered to her donning misery, she was so attracted to him.
He’d been nothing but kind to her.
He’d tried to rescue her and had assured her he wouldn’t tell the sheriff she’d stabbed him.

She, Miracle Jones, was a fraud.
She was falling in love with him, and all she’d brought him was pain and trouble.
The least she could do was see his mother and try to help her, perhaps soothe the sick misery that was eating Harrison alive.

“Take me to her,” Miracle said abruptly, brushing past him out of the barn.

¤   ¤   ¤

Eliza Danner lay motionless on the sumptuous feather bed, only the barest rise and fall of her chest indicating she was still alive.
She had a face like porcelain, finally cracked now with lines of age, or maybe illness.
Her hair was blond and thick, pulled back from the loveliest features Miracle had ever seen.
The woman fairly took Miracle’s breath away, and the unmistakable aristocracy around her nose and lips made Miracle even more aware that there were depths to this family she hadn’t suspected.

Looking down at her, Miracle felt as dirty and torn as the young beggars who pulled at her skirts and pleaded with huge, empty eyes for a penny or a hunk off a loaf of bread.

Diphtheria.
The word was only whispered in the dark.
The horror of it evident in the hopelessness of families who lost all their children in one devastating wave, and maybe even both parents, too.
The maid’s reaction had been understandable, if cowardly.
There was no cure.

She lifted her gaze to Harrison’s.
His expression was somber and tense.
Did he blame her for keeping him away?
How could he not?
She was half sick with blame herself.

“She’s unconscious.
She doesn’t know you’re here,” a deep masculine voice said from Miracle’s right.
“Why don’t you come back tomorrow?”

There were four other people besides Eliza, Harrison, and herself in the room.
Kelsey was there, quietly standing back, her hands clasped in the folds of her skirt.
On one side of the bed stood Harrison’s sister, Lexie, blond like Harrison, with the same green eyes.
Next to her was the tall, dark-haired man with the piercing blue eyes who’d just spoken, Dr.
Tremaine Danner, Lexie’s husband.
In a chair pulled close to the head of the bed sat a gray-haired man with slightly stooped shoulders and a face ravaged with fear and pain.
Joseph Danner, Miracle had learned.
Harrison’s father.

As if on cue, the group, except Joseph, who elected to remain at his wife’s bedside holding her limp, white hand, left the room as one.
In the hallway, Harrison grabbed Tremaine’s arm, stopping him.

“Will she live?”

Tremaine’s eyes were hooded, as if he were purposely hiding his thoughts from the anxious gazes of Lexie and Harrison.
Miracle held her breath.
He didn’t have to answer as far as she was concerned.
The truth was evident.

“I’ve seen people worse than she is recover,” Tremaine said at length, drawing air between his teeth as if it were some magic fortifier.
“But not many.”

“You are absolutely certain it’s diphtheria?” Harrison demanded.

“She has the membrane across her throat,” Tremaine answered flatly.
“It’s ripped and bleeding in places.”

“God.” This was from Lexie, who stood stoically beside her husband, her face as pale as alabaster.

“She’s not swallowing well,” Tremaine finished harshly, his face grim.
“It may be the beginnings of paralysis of the throat and diaphragm.”

Harrison absorbed the news without flinching.
Kelsey stared at him, as if she didn’t know what to do.
She didn’t throw her arms around him or console him in any way.
Miracle sensed that Kelsey’s relationship with her future husband didn’t include such displays of affection.
Miracle was slightly surprised.
Harrison was neither standoffish nor cold.
He was, in fact, quite warm and sensual, as she knew from experience.

Swallowing, Miracle gazed at Harrison through her thick lashes.
Apart from a tightening of his jaw, she could scarcely tell he was emotionally overwrought.

“What have you given her?” he asked Tremaine.

“Diphtheria antitoxin.”

“She needs her throat swabbed,” Miracle said in a strange disembodied voice.
“A mixture of carbolic acid, glycerin, tincture of myrrh, and maybe a drop of oil of wintergreen.
She should swallow some, too, if she can.” She felt three pairs of eyes turn her way.
“It will relieve the pain,” she said simply.

“Do you have tincture of myrrh and wintergreen?” Tremaine asked her.

Miracle nodded.
“I think so.
If the bottles are still intact.”

“Get them,” he said.

She ran down the stairs, half stumbling.
Behind her, she heard Lexie say on a choking sob to Harrison, “Thank God, you’re all right.
Mother’s been calling for you, and we were all afraid you’d been burned in the barn fire!”

Kelsey answered, her words indistinguishable, but then Miracle heard Harrison’s voice, clear and regretful.
“Kelsey, later, when things have calmed down, we need to talk.
I’m sorry about the wedding.”

Miracle ran out into the deepening shadows.
Billy was at the wagon, pounding the wheel on with a sledgehammer.
The lantern which had been strung on to the end of the wagon was jumping and flickering with each blow.

“Thank you, Billy,” she told him in a heartfelt voice, glad she wouldn’t have to spend the night on Danner property.
She wanted desperately to get away.

“It’s finished, ma’am,” Billy said, wiping his grease-spattered hands on his pants.

“Would you do something for me?” Miracle asked, climbing up the stairs into the back of the wagon.

“Sure.
If’n I can.”

She rummaged through several large trunks that she rarely opened, pulling out two bottles.
“Take these to Dr.
Danner.
He’ll know what to do with them.”

Billy’s brow creased.
“Are you leavin’ then?”

“I’m afraid so.” Miracle smiled.
“Tell – Mr.
Harrison good-bye,” she added softly.

“Will you be in Rock Springs?”

“I’ll be looking for someone,” was her oblique answer.
She closed the wagon doors and then settled herself on the front seat.
“Oh, Billy!” she cried to his disappearing back.
“What do I owe you?”

He held up the bottles.
“Figure if Dr.
Danner wants these, they’ll do as payment.”

Miracle waved good-bye as Billy took the wintergreen and myrrh to the house.
“Giddyap,” she yelled at the drowsing nags, turning her attention to practical matters in order to ignore her bruised soul.
“And don’t delay this time!
I’ve got enough problems without the two of you arguing with me.” As they lurched forward, she added, “When we get to Rock Springs I’ll give you each a feedbag.
Just go!”

¤   ¤   ¤

“Where’s Miracle?” Harrison demanded as soon as Billy delivered the bottles to Tremaine.

“Gone off,” he answered, his face changing as he realized he might have erred in letting her go.

“To Rock Springs?” Harrison demanded.

“I – think so.” Billy’s brow puckered.
“Said she had to find someone.”

“Ah.
Uncle Horace,” Harrison muttered more to himself than to Lexie and Kelsey, who stood beside him outside Eliza’s room.
Miracle was undoubtedly heading to Rock Springs.
She wouldn’t leave the area until she’d either found Uncle Horace or learned he was dead.
“All right.
Thanks, Billy.”

He glanced at the half open door, where he could see Tremaine trying to get Eliza to swallow some of Miracle’s cure.
No, it wasn’t a cure, he reminded himself harshly.
It was just something to help ease the pain.

“Maybe I should go,” Kelsey murmured.

Distracted, Harrison nodded.
Then, remembering himself, he asked, “Would you like me to take you back in the buggy?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He didn’t mind at all.
The impotence he felt over his mother’s illness made him uneasy and tense.
He wanted to do something to help but knew there was precious little even Tremaine could do to fight the dread disease.

Outside, he helped Kelsey into the passenger side of the buggy, which stood ready and waiting, courtesy of Billy, next to the stables.
Kelsey’s hands were folded in her lap, her gaze trained on the Garrett property which stretched toward the Cascade foothills on the other side of Silver Stream, the dividing line between Garrett and Danner land.