Chapter 145
The doctor glanced at Ant. "This is our miracle baby. We've been married nigh on ten years, and like Abraham and Sarah, had given up hope."
Ant felt a twinge of jealousy, which surprised him. He'd never before thought of having babies. Is life pa.s.sing me by while I gather the ruined shards of my past?
Harriet picked up the doctor's hat and held it out to him. "Do you want a girl or boy?"
"A healthy babe is all we pray for. And a safe delivery." He took the hat from her. "However, I think we'll have a boy. I have six brothers and Mrs. Cameron has five. Nary a sister in the bunch. No nieces. Only nephews."
Harriet shook her head. "Your mother must have had her hands full."
"That she did. I was the eldest, so I had my hands full too."
"I can't imagine having brothers. I just have one sister." Her expression turned wistful. "She married and moved with her husband to Kentucky." She shrugged. "At least we exchange letters."
"We do, too." Doctor Cameron placed his hat on his head. "My youngest brother has recently finished medical school in Edinburgh. He'll be joining me in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs."
Ant's interest quickened. If the town could support two doctors it was far larger than he'd suspected. "Do you have a big enough practice for both of you to make a living?"
Dr. Cameron shrugged. "Probably not. I know we could help more people, though. It will do Angus good to practice frontier medicine, although I'm sure he'll be shoving all sorts of new-fangled medical notions my way."
Ant handed Dr. Cameron some money.
The doctor tucked the money into his pocket and shot a knowing glance at Harriet. "You come on by if you need to see me...or to talk."
"I will." She opened the door for him. When it closed, she leaned her back against it, and gave Ant a wary glance.
"I wish you would have let him examine you."
Harriet huffed in exacerbation. "I'm quite well. And that's my last word." She walked over to David.
Ant held up his hands in surrender.
The door flew open, and in stomped the widow, her dirty hands full of carrots. She dumped them in a basket on the shelf near the washbasin, and then proceeded to wash and dry her hands, although she had to hunt around for a fresh towel, scolding under her breath.
Briskly she directed them to help her set out the food. A general couldn't have commanded his troops better. Harriet lifted down white china plates from a plain wooden china cabinet. Ant took food out of the icebox and pie safe. Mrs. Murphy did the rest. Soon, they were sitting down to the meal.
Ant had been prepared to keep David from wolfing down his food, but instead, the boy ate like a mannequin, not seeming to taste anything. Although once, from the corner of his eye, Ant thought he'd seen a look of satisfaction cross David's face, but the expression pa.s.sed so quickly he couldn't be sure.
After a few attempts at conversation on Harriet's part, they lapsed into awkward silence. The food was good. Ant had to give the widow credit for her cooking and housekeeping skills, the only favorable things about her. After a small slice of cake, Ant finally surrendered to the uncomfortable feeling building within him. He needed a few quiet minutes to think.
Knowing he was acting rudely, he excused himself by saying he needed to check on Shadow and left David and the women to finish the widow's lemon cake. He only took a few steps outside and stopped under the window of Widow Murphy's parlor.
Overhead, an almost-full moon gave off enough light to see vague details of the town. The breeze carried a faint whiff of horse manure and dust from the street. He turned to the back of the house, looking past the garden and the street behind. He spared a glance for the tall, dark shape of Banker Livingston's house, downstairs windows alight, set back from the street and towering over the rest of the homes in the area. Then, he stared blankly off into the darkness, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that his life had changed today, and not the way he'd expected it to.
For two years, Ant had focused exclusively on his quest to find David. He thought recovering his nephew and revenging Emily would release the knot of anger that had settled in his stomach after his sister's murder. He'd rescue David and all would be well. Perhaps not well, he amended. Not with David orphaned in the worst possible way. But uncle and nephew would be reunited--a joyful scene that he'd imagined too many times to count.
Now, instead of the happy ending he'd a.s.sumed he'd find when he'd accomplished his goal, and a speedy return to his old life, he had a whole new set of problems. And no answers.
He heard the door open. Quiet footsteps and the silent swish of a skirt told him one of the women had followed him outside. He didn't have to turn to know his schoolmarm had joined him, but he did anyway, surprised by the feeling of comfort her presence brought him.
Harriet had draped a shawl she must have borrowed from Mrs. Murphy over her shoulders, and stood hugging the ends around her body, as if uncertain about her welcome. "Widow Murphy gave David another piece of cake. Guess she figures as long as you're paying for it, she can be generous."
"That's the first sharp thing I've ever heard you say about anyone."
"I'm still angry with her for how she treated some of my students a few weeks ago. She caused great pain to them and their family and friends. I know I'll have
"Me?"
"For not telling me the truth about Lewis."
"I didn't think you'd go hightailin' after him alone," he chided, dropping his hands on her shoulders. "Good G.o.d, woman, what were you thinking? That man would have taken advantage of you, then murdered you like he did my sister. He would have tossed your body over the cliff without giving two thoughts to it."
In the moonlight, he could see the blood drain from her face and cursed his loose tongue.
"He murdered your sister? David's mother?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Hoping not to answer the question, he barreled on with the story. "Then Lewis took David and fled before he could be arrested. You can see why it was so important to get my nephew back before his father harmed him or he became steeped in vice from growing up with that blackguard."
"Oh, that poor boy."
"I think David witnessed the murder. Or at least saw his mother's body. There were small b.l.o.o.d.y footprints next to Lewis' big ones."
"What he's been through," she whispered. Then her voice sharpened. "But that doesn't excuse you not telling me."
Ant took a long, drawn breath and ran his hand over his head. "You're right. I've kept as close to the ground as possible for someone as big as me. It's a salacious tale. I learned early on that if I told one person, it often spread through the town. Lewis would hear word of it and light out with David before I even knew he was there."
"But you could have trusted me," she said, disappointment in her voice.
"It wasn't you, Harriet. I couldn't take a chance on David's life. I wouldn't put it past Lewis to kill David, just to keep him out of my hands."
Her hand flew to cover her mouth. She stood there, obviously taking in what he'd said. "What an evil man. My feelings about his death were all mixed up before this, but now I'm relieved that neither David nor anyone else will ever be harmed by him."
The fierceness in her voice caused a wave of emotion to flood through him. He half turned away from her and glanced at the moon.
"Ant, are you all right?"
No, I'm not all right. Not that I would admit it. "Harriet, I don't know what to do. David's so..." He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "It never occurred to me that my own nephew wouldn't recognize me. Instead see me as a stranger and a threat."
"Today was upsetting for you both."
Upsetting wasn't the word. David's rejection caused a pain deep in his gut. What his nephew must have been through to withdraw inside that frozen sh.e.l.l.
Just thinking about what the boy had experienced send a surge of anger through him. If his brother-in-law were standing in front of him, he'd take pleasure from grabbing the man by the throat and slowly choking the life out of him.
Harriet placed a rea.s.suring hand on his arm.
Ant tried to shake off his anger and form words to describe his concern for his nephew. He wanted her opinion, for he certainly didn't know anything about children, especially damaged ones. "David hasn't said one word yet. To me. To anyone. And the look in his eyes is positively eerie. He seems like he's gone away within himself."
She squeezed his arm. "My uncle fought for the North in the Civil War and liked to tell us stories. He and his boyhood friend, Jimmy, signed up in the very beginning. As he put it, 'two still-wet-behind-the-ears boys barely old enough to squeak past enlistment age.'"
Ant nodded for her to go on.
"They were so proud of their ill-fitting new uniforms. Bragged about what they'd do to Jonnie Reb. Until their first battle. Bull Run. They'd never been so scared in their lives."
"I'm sure that was just the first time."
She grimaced. "Yes. Uncle Ed said that battles became more familiar, but never less scary."
"Go on."
"After Bull Run, Uncle Ed saw a blank look on Jimmy's face. His eyes looked empty. He became uncharacteristically quiet. Wasn't the same. My Uncle described him as looking as if his soul had fled from his body. Uncle Ed thought it would wear off but it didn't."
"What happened?"
"When Jimmy did talk, he kept saying he wanted to go home. But Uncle Ed knew that would make him a deserter. He'd be in worse trouble. So my uncle persuaded him to stay. He died in the next battle. Uncle Ed always blamed himself for that."
Ant stroked his chin. "So you're saying fear from the experiences David's been through has caused that empty expression, and that it might not go away?"
She nodded. "Or at least will take some time to heal. But you'll give him the security he needs, Ant."
"Will I?"
"You sound doubtful."
"I am...ill-equipped...."
"What did you expect to do with David after you found him?"
"You mean after I killed his father?"
She frowned at him. "I didn't quite mean that."
"I'm serious, Harriet. That was the plan." He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.
She pursed her lips. "I never thought I'd feel this way about another living soul, but I think I would make the same decision if I had to protect that child from his father."
Relieved, Ant released his breath. "Now to answer your question... I planned to spend a couple of months with David and then send him to boarding school. While he was in school, I could travel where I needed and still report for the paper. Come home at school breaks."
"I don't think your plan's going to work, Ant."
"I realize that now."
"David won't be ready for boarding school for a long time...if ever. He'll need to be around you...become acquainted with you again." She stretched her arm to indicate the town. "Stay in familiar territory. Learn that he's safe."
Ant rubbed a hand over his face. "I'll have to give up reporting."
"Maybe give up being a foreign correspondent, but couldn't you write from here?"
"About what?" Ant said, an edge in his tone. "The latest saloon brawl?"
Harriet looked as if he had slapped her, but before he could apologize, she snapped back. "Write a book!"
The kitten had her claws out. In the light of the moon, he could see how annoyance brought a becoming flush to her cheeks and sparked her eyes. She's pretty when she's angry. Fighting with her would definitely have some benefits. The thought mellowed Ant's ill-humor. He grinned at her. "I was a das.h.i.+ng war correspondent. I hate to give that up."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "All right. Maybe not a war correspondent because officially they weren't wars. Clashes actually."
Harriet raised her brows. "You were the das.h.i.+ng clashes correspondent?"
"Yes, indeed. Not important to anyone but those involved. Some n.o.ble would get greedy and try to annex his neighbor, who wouldn't be pleased at the idea of relinquis.h.i.+ng part of his land. I'd write a long story and the paper would maybe print an inch, if that. Actually, Europe during the last few years has been remarkably peaceful. I had better luck writing about the news in the capital cities. Americans love to read about n.o.bility and royalty."
"Sounds interesting." Harriet's voice sounded wistful. "I still think you should write a book."
"Writing books is for fuddy-duddy college professors."
She playfully shook her head. "You're definitely not fuddy-duddy."
"At least you didn't say, I'm definitely not das.h.i.+ng."
She swatted his arm.
"Sorry, Harriet, I'm not interested in writing a book." Yet even as he said the words, a faint memory came to him, of the joy of creating stories and writing poetry before his stepfather had beaten that nonsense out of him. He wrenched his mind back to the here and now.
"Why don't you start a newspaper? We could certainly use one." She drew herself up. "I could contribute."
He seized on the idea as a way to get away from the thought of writing a book. "You could, could you?" He made his voice sound teasing. "What?"
"My poetry."
"No poetry!" Just the idea brought back bad memories.
Harriet s.h.i.+fted away from him, a look of fear on her face.
Ant cursed his sharpness. A man had violated her today. She needed gentleness from him. Instead he stomped on her suggestions like they were c.o.c.kroaches. He wanted to reach out and take her shoulders, drawing her closer, but he didn't dare touch her. He couldn't bear to feel her flinch under his hands. "What if you wrote a column?" He made sure to keep his tone mild.
Curiosity banished the fear from her face. "Maybe the doings at the school?"
Ant shook his head. "I can see the headline now," he said, careful to sound teasing and not critical. He moved his hand through the air as if framing a headline. "Sweet.w.a.ter Springs Students Recite Shakespeare."
Harriet placed her hands on her hips. "I'll write columns that will appeal to women."
Ant's amus.e.m.e.nt became genuine. He couldn't resist. "Housekeeping tips?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Perhaps, but women are interested in more than housekeeping, although keeping a family fed and clothed takes up most of a woman's time. Then there's shepherding the education, morals, and values of her youngsters. Making her home, no matter if it's a hut or a mansion as attractive as she can contrive, tending the garden and livestock..."