Distant Thunder Page 26

  Kutter approached him and rested a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Daniel?”

  Startled, Daniel looked up.

  “The doctor’s here,” Kutter repeated. His fingers tightened. “She’ll be fine, son. You and I both know that the hero always gets shot in the shoulder. And the hero always lives.” Kutter’s lips twitched in a weak smile of encouragement.

  Daniel laid Susan back on the pillows. Compared to the pallor of her skin, the fire of her hair seemed to have diminished, as if foretelling what was to come. Annie’s gold locket gleamed dully next to her skin.

  Daniel smoothed the thick waves away from her face. She didn’t move, didn’t react. He bent and pressed his mouth to her ear. “I love you,” he whispered. He brushed his lips over hers. Then, at Kutter’s urging, he stood and left the bedroom.

  The doctor stayed in the room for a long time. Daniel waited, not daring to hope.

  At long last the older man returned, offering Daniel a heartening smile. “She’ll be right as rain in a day or two, you wait and see. The bullet went clean through, near as I can tell. Just keep her warm and let her rest.”

  Relief coursed through Daniel, and he grinned. “Thank you. Thank you!”

  But by morning Susan had still not awakened. By the following nightfall, she was feverish and delirious.

  Sometime during the day, Essie arrived, then Donovan. They tried to get Daniel to eat, tried to get him to sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to step away from the bed even for a single minute.

  The next morning the doctor was summoned again. This time when he stepped from the room his expression was grim. “Her condition has been complicated by the blow she sustained to the head,” he stated slowly. “In addition, she has signs of an infection. I believe a piece of the bullet is embedded in her chest.” His expression grew sober. “The only alternative is to operate, but with possible injuries to the brain, she may not recover from the shock to her system.”

  Daniel barely registered the way Essie’s face blanched or the way Donovan clasped her hand. Daniel grew still. Silent. Essie turned and spoke to him. He could hear the words lapping over him in relentless waves, but he paid them no mind. He was seeing a tiny infant, her jaw shattered, her body broken.

  “Daniel?” Essie shook his arm. “It’s your choice.”

  He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  Please. Can you help her?

  “Daniel?”

  He tore free from the memories to see Essie regarding him with concern.

  “Do whatever you have to do,” he whispered. “But I can’t watch. Sweet heaven, don’t ask me to watch.” Incapable of saying anything more, Daniel walked to the door. Donovan patted his shoulder, but did not follow, and for that Daniel was grateful.

  Don’t love. Don’t need.

  Mother needed me. Annie needed me. And I let them both down.

  Don’t love me, Susan. Don’t need me.

  I’ve been followed by a damned unlucky star. Until now.

  Daniel walked into the musty warmth of the barn. He gathered his shovel from the first stall, then went back outside.

  The snow sighed beneath his feet in silent condemnation. The icy moisture sank through his clothes. Cloudy memories tumbled through his head. Annie, Belle and the social club, the Benton House Memorial Orphanage, the cavalry, the Pinkertons. Susan.

  I love you, Daniel … love you … love you… .

  The shovel bit into the ice and snow. The harsh squeak filled his ears, and Daniel saw another hillside, another grave. He forced himself to take another jabbing scoop. Then another and another, until he was striking bare frozen earth. And still he continued, even though the icy ground would not give way beneath the blade.

  You make me feel things I didn’t know were possible.

  You’ll see, Daniel. We’ll be happy. So happy.

  A sob tore through his chest, and Daniel sank to his knees. His head arched back, and his mouth opened in a silent cry. Inwardly he cursed God and the fates for requiring yet another sacrifice of him, another price for loving.

  “No!” His shout tore through the winter stillness and echoed against the brittle hills, shattering the silence. “Damn it all to hell, no.” As a boy he’d dug a narrow trough in the earth and enshrouded his sister in his only coat. Then, dry-eyed, he’d left her to rest for eternity in the dark ground. But he would not do the same for Susan! He would not let her die! Not when spring was so near and he needed her so much.

  Ruthlessly he threw the shovel away and watched as it skidded across the snow. Dropping his head, Daniel gasped deep lungfuls of air. He would make her live. Somehow.

  Pushing himself upright, Daniel turned.

  Behind him a huge giant of a man waited in the snow. “Where is she?” he said. “Where’s Susan?”

  Daniel approached him. He didn’t really know what to say to Max. Susan had told Daniel about him. She’d said he was special. Like a child.

  “She’s sick, Max.”

  “Sick?” He looked at Daniel with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “But I need her.”

  Wordlessly Daniel put his arm around the older man’s shoulder and led him back to the house. “We’re going to make her better, Max. We both need her.”

  In the hours that followed, Daniel closed himself in the parlor and tried to ignore the sounds coming from the kitchen where Susan had been laid out on the table. He and Max sat in silence, their backs against the wall, until Donovan entered the room again.

  “The doctor has finished. We need you to help carry her.”

  After squeezing Max’s shoulder reassuringly, Daniel went into the kitchen. Ignoring the blood that stained the floor and the table, he approached his wife. When Donovan would have helped, he waved him away. He lifted her slight form, carried her into the bedroom, and tucked her beneath the blankets.

  The doctor looked in on her once more before leaving. “I wish I could give her something for the pain, but with Gibby’s place burned to the ground, I haven’t got much of a supply on hand.”

  “I’ve got some morphine in my saddlebags.”

  “Give her just a bit. Not much.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Daniel clapped the man on the back and walked him as far as the bedroom door. Then he took the vial of white powder from his bags and shook a little into the tin mug of water Essie had left on the nightstand.

  Donovan stepped inside the doorway. “Doc gave her something for the pain?”

  “No. He told me to use the morphine powder Gibby filled for me.”

  Donovan nodded. “It’ll do the trick. I remember doling it out to my men during the war and they …” His words trailed off. His brow furrowed.

  Daniel held the cup to Susan’s lips.

  “No. Daniel, no!”

  Donovan lunged across the room, knocking the cup from Daniel’s hand. “What the hell?”

  Donovan snatched the vial from the nightstand, sniffed the bottle, and scowled. “Poison. That’s what Gibby was trying to say.” His eyes glittered. “I’m no expert on drugs, but I’d bet my money this isn’t straight morphine.”

  Daniel swore, wondering how much longer Beeb would continue to threaten his family. He could only hope his efforts would not end in Susan’s death.

  As dusk bled into total darkness, Daniel cared for his wife. Minutes stretched into hours. Hours into days. Days into eternities. Each night Daniel lit the lamps and talked to Susan, hoping to woo her from her unnatural sleep. His voice became hoarse from overuse, but still he continued. When she grew chill, he lay by her side, warming her. When she became feverish, he bathed her skin with water from the pump. Over and over he whispered words of encouragement and love, searching her face for a glimmer of improvement, of strength.

  Each day the doctor visited. Each day he returned from the bedroom, regretfully shaking his head. Esther offered her strength and comfort. And Donovan. There was nothing they could do. Nothing Daniel could do. But wait. And
pray.

  As the nights grew long, and one day stretched into two, then three, Daniel grew more and more afraid. He paused in drawing the covers up to her chin. A weariness flooded his body, and he fought the tide of despair that washed over him.

  Kneeling at her bedside, he rested his head on her breast, his arms winding around her waist. He didn’t know how much longer he could continue to hope.

  Huge sobs racked his body, tearing from his chest where they had been lodged for so long. His body shook, and he clutched her slender body when he found himself fearing that, after all his efforts, she would still die. From deep inside him, hidden wells of grief burst, painful reminders of all that he had tried to forget, all that he had buried.

  “Daniel?”

  He grew still, the blood in his veins seeming to freeze.

  Very slowly he lifted his head. Susan blinked at him in confusion, her brow creasing.

  “Why … are you … crying?”

  He stared hard, willing himself to believe this was no illusion, or that if it was, he would never awaken.

  Her body trembled with weariness, but inch by inch her hand crept across the covers to grasp his fingers.

  “D-Daniel?”

  Another sob tore from Daniel’s throat even as a smile of triumph split his mouth.

  “Wh-what’s … wrong?”

  He shook his head, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Not a thing. Not a damned thing.”

  She attempted to grin, but her expression was still a little confused.

  He tried to stand, to get Essie and Donovan, to send word to Kutter, Max, the doctor.

  “Stay?”

  The rest of the world melted away beneath the power of her gaze.

  “I love you, Susan,” he whispered gruffly.

  She smiled. “I knew … you would tell me someday … soon.”

  Knowing she was still weak and tired, Daniel slid into the bed beside her, then pulled her close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. Her hand curled over his chest, and he buried his fingers in her hair.

  “Susan?” A peace settled in his soul at the sound of her name and the nudging response of her hand on his skin. “Did I tell you we have a freshwater spring on the hill? And in the summer …”

  Epilogue

  Ashton, Wyoming Territory

  April 6, 1889

  A low grumble of thunder tumbled across the valley floor, bringing the thick scent of rain.

  Susan shifted, yawning and sliding her hand across the covers in search of her husband’s warm length. When her hand encountered only cool sheets and tousled pillows, she opened her eyes.

  Midnight shadows enveloped the room in a warm velvet cloak. Intermittent flashes of lightning splashed the bed with a hazy glow. Susan lay back, listening to the patter of the rain, waiting for Daniel to return.

  Another good-natured rumble of thunder echoed overhead, and Susan smiled. The rain would wash away the last patches of snow on the upper slopes. Then the forsythia and lilacs would bloom.

  Allowing thoughts of spring to fill her senses with the phantom scent of grass and flowers, Susan lay in bed watching the play of lightning and rain on the ceiling. Several minutes passed, and when there was still no sign of Daniel, she slipped from under the covers and picked up her wrapper. The smooth, polished floorboards were cool beneath her bare feet as she padded across the room. She opened the door, and the low murmur of Daniel’s voice told her where she would find him.

  Susan’s lips tilted in an indulgent smile, and she shrugged into her wrapper, fastening the tie over the faint protruding swell of her abdomen. Silently she moved to the door of the little bedroom. There she paused.

  The two occupants remained unaware of her presence. Daniel’s frame seemed incongruous on the child’s tiny bed. But there was nothing incongruous about the young girl he held tenderly in his arms or the expression of love on his face.

  Susan leaned against the door, watching her husband’s broad, work-hardened palm stroking their daughter’s tousled copper braids. Soft shushing noises whispered from his throat.

  At another grumble of thunder, Annabelle clung to his shoulders, damp trails of tears still streaking her cheeks.

  “Still scared?”

  Susan barely caught Daniel’s low query.

  Annabelle’s chest swelled in a ragged breath. “I don’t like … thunder.”

  “Shh …” Daniel drew her closer, wiping the tears from her face. “It’s all right to be afraid,” he murmured. “Everyone is afraid of something at one time or another.”

  “Even you, Papa?”

  Susan gripped the neckline of her wrapper. The slight movement caused Daniel’s glance to settle on her face.

  “Even me.” Daniel’s voice was oddly husky. “But I learned that when people love you, there’s nothing to fear.” His arms tightened around Annabelle’s tiny body. From above the child’s head, his eyes clung to Susan’s, burning with a love and adoration that had grown stronger over the years, never waning.

  “Never forget how much your mother and I love you, Annabelle, and you’ll always be safe.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “Love never dies.”

  Holding fast to her husband’s strong gaze, Susan knew that somehow—together—they had weathered the storms of their past to journey into a bright shining future. The distant sound of thunder would no longer hold a threat, but only the promise of cool, refreshing rains.

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