The man truly sounded hurt. She’d never meant to insult him; she just wanted to avoid an accident brought on by interfering with the rescue attempt. She opened her mouth to apologize, but the sheriff cut her off.
“Let me tell you something, Eden Spencer, of the high-and-mighty Spencers. I take my elected duties seriously. As sheriff, it’s my job to protect the citizens of this town, and if there’s a rescue to be made, ain’t nobody gonna keep me from doing my part—you understand?”
She managed a nod.
“Good.” His scorn melted away in an instant, so swift it set her off balance. His frown curved upward in a one-sided grin. Then he raised a finger to her face and traced the edge of her hair from her temple to her chin.
An unpleasant shiver coursed down her neck.
“Something tells me you might soon be changin’ your tune about that iron-bender. He ain’t all he seems. Trust me, darlin’. You can do better.”
For a moment she thought he might try to kiss her, and revulsion hit her so hard she had to fight the urge to flee. Instead, he winked and dropped his hand away from her face. “Yep, I got me a real good feeling.”
As he turned and left, Eden rubbed the back of her arm along the side of her face where he’d touched her, trying to remove the feel of him from her skin. Unfortunately, it did little to ease her growing discomfort.
The sheriff’s real good feeling gave her a real bad feeling.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Activity escalated in the quarry after the sheriff departed. He returned once to retrieve some long boards from a pile by one of the cranes, but that had been twenty minutes ago, and Eden hadn’t seen him since. Which was probably for the best. At least for Chloe.
She’d found the girl amid the other huddled family groups that waited for news of their loved ones. Chloe had stood alone, her expression forlorn as her troubled eyes followed every move the workmen made. Aching for her, Eden had rushed to her side and clasped her hand. Together, they watched, waited, and prayed.
All at once, the dark cluster of men outlined against the gray stone shifted. Two crewmen separated themselves from the rest, something large wedged between them.
“They’ve got them out!” a woman cried as she pulled away from her teenage son and took a few tentative steps forward. “They’re bringing them back. Look! They’re bringing them back. And the first one’s alive! Glory be!”
A murmur of anticipation swept through the group, and the separate huddles merged into one mass as everyone pressed forward to see who was being brought in. Dr. Adams sprinted out to meet the men, his black suit a stark contrast against the gray, dust-encrusted clothes and skin of the workers. The limping man suspended between them was even dirtier, nearly impossible to recognize.
“Is it Pa?” a tiny voice queried near Eden’s elbow. Eden’s heart broke as she looked at the cautious hope etched into the girl’s face.
The child’s mother folded her into a firm embrace. “I don’t know, sugar. I can’t tell from here.”
“It looks a bit like my Joe,” one woman offered. “He’s about the right height.”
“All of them are about that height,” a masculine voice grumbled. “Could be my boy just as easy as any other feller.”
Eden squeezed Chloe’s hand, knowing that similar thoughts must be bouncing through her mind, as well—thoughts about how the gray dust could be disguising Duncan’s fiery hair, or how the leg held stiffly out in front as the threesome hobbled along could be the same as the one that danced those jigs back in the Hang Dog.
Dr. Adams trotted back to the roped-off area he had set up for the injured. His eyes scanned the crowd until his gaze met Eden’s. “Miss Spencer? Would you assist me, please?”
She gave a little start but complied with his request, slowly separating herself from the rest.
“Who is it, Doctor?” the mother of the little girl called out. “Who are they bringing in?”
As Eden ducked under the rope to join him, Dr. Adams steadied his gaze on the young mother, swallowing three times before projecting any words. “It’s Joe Collier.”
The mother’s shoulders sagged, but behind her, the older woman clapped her hands and folded them to her breast as a tremulous smile broke out across her face.
“I knew it was my Joe. I just knew it.”
The man missing a son came up to the rope. His weathered hands gripped the strung boundary as if it were a lifeline. “How ’bout the rest of ’em, Doc?” He asked it quietly, but the others must have sensed the impact of the answer, for everyone hushed and pinned their attention to the physician.
Dr. Adams clenched his jaw. “They’re coming” was all he said as he took hold of Eden’s arm and steered her to the makeshift worktable that had been set up in the opposite corner.
Her limbs suddenly heavy, Eden stumbled as she followed the doctor. He mumbled an apology and slowed his pace, but it didn’t do anything to stop the growing numbness within her. When they reached the table, he released her arm and bent to retrieve a pail and a large speckled coffeepot.
Eden cast a glance back at Chloe before focusing again on the physician as he straightened. “Did the others not survive?” she whispered.
His mouth formed a tight line. “I don’t know. From what I could see, the others were being laid out on boards. Could just mean that they’re too busted up to walk, though.” He didn’t quite meet her eyes during that last statement, and that lack stole the reassurance from his words.
But then Dr. Adams lifted his chin and met her stare with his own unflinching one.
“Borrowing trouble won’t help matters, Miss Spencer. Borrowing water will. Fetch some from the rain barrels by the corral.” He held out the coffeepot and pail and waited for her to fit the handles over her fingers. “I won’t know the extent of these men’s injuries until we clean away that quarry dust. Looks like we’ll be turning some of those bandages you brought into washrags.”
By the time Eden returned from the corral, Mr. Collier had been deposited in the infirmary area on one of the sawhorse tables Dr. Adams had rigged with some pilfered boards. Mrs. Collier stood near her husband’s head, stroking his filthy hair, her forehead bent toward his, the two of them talking softly.
Seeing the tenderness between the couple stirred her heart. Her eyes suddenly lifted to search for Levi’s outline against the rocks.
“Miss Spencer? The water.” The doctor’s sharp voice ricocheted through her. Eden snapped her attention back to the situation at hand and bustled forward. She set the pail and water-filled coffeepot on the vacant sawhorse table to the doctor’s left and turned to face the patient. A gasp lodged in her throat, causing her to choke.
Dr. Adams had slit the man’s trouser leg from cuff to lower thigh. A scandalous amount of male limb lay exposed. She immediately averted her eyes only to hear an exasperated sigh from the man beside her.
“This is no time for missish modesty. I need a nurse, not a debutante. Can you manage to assist me without fainting into a heap, or do I need to recruit one of the begrimed workmen who’d likely contaminate the wound the moment a breeze blows across his clothing?”
Years of social training kept Eden’s lips closed against the flaming setdown that leapt to mind. Simply because she’d been caught off guard by a strange man’s hairy limb by no means meant she was some namby-pamby who would faint at the sight of a little blood. Why, she was the one who’d bandaged Cook’s finger when she’d nearly sliced the tip off preparing potatoes for one of Mother’s dinner parties years ago.
She stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders. “I’ll not faint, Doctor. Just tell me what you want done, and I’ll do it.”
“Clean away the blood on his leg so I can see how bad the break is.” Dr. Adams tossed her a rag and turned his back on her to question Mr. Collier.
Determined to prove her mettle, Eden gripped the pail’s handle and pivoted to face the waiting limb. Her earlier glance had been of the healthy flesh above the man’s k
nee, but now the sight of white bone protruding through bloody skin at the shin made her stomach convulse.
Give me strength, Lord.
She inhaled a deep breath and set the pail on the boards beside Mr. Collier’s ankle. Then she dipped the cotton rag into the water and set to work. Each time she pressed the cloth to the man’s leg, his muscles would clench, and she knew she was causing him pain. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. All her life she’d abhorred violence for the senseless pain it caused. She’d believed that education and enlightened minds would bring about a more peaceful society. But now here she was, hurting a man who was already suffering. Where was the enlightenment in that?
As she completed her task, Dr. Adams motioned her around to the opposite side. “I need you to restrain his good leg while I set this bone. Mrs. Collier will hold his shoulders.”
Eden nodded stiffly and tentatively placed her hands near Mr. Collier’s right ankle. She met Mrs. Collier’s gaze, gaining courage from the other woman’s fortitude.
“Ready, Joe?”
“Get it done, Doc,” the man grunted.
Dr. Adams glanced meaningfully at both women, and Eden tightened her hold. She closed her eyes and leaned her full weight on the man’s good leg.
Suddenly, Mr. Collier cried out, and the leg Eden gripped rose up against her hand. She leaned more of her weight on it until her feet nearly left the ground. Then a gruesome pop sounded and some of the tension flowed out of the wounded man.
“All done,” Dr. Adams said, his voice enviously matter-of-fact. Eden opened her eyes and released her grip on Mr. Collier’s leg, hiding her shaking hands behind her back as she fought to regain control.
The doctor went on to address the Colliers about the serious danger of blood poisoning and explaining how he would splint the leg in order to leave the open wound exposed so they could treat it with a carbolic-acid solution. Eden stepped back to allow them some privacy, only then recognizing the growing commotion from the crowd. Another pair of workers approached, this time carrying a plank with a disturbingly inert form upon it.
“Doctor.” The word came as barely a whisper. Eden cleared her throat and tried again. “Dr. Adams.”
He cast an impatient look over his shoulder.
“Another man is being brought in.”
The physician straightened immediately, frown lines creasing his brow as he took in the sight. Without excusing himself from their presence, he dashed forward to intercept the quarrymen.
“Miss Eden?” Chloe’s trembling voice found Eden’s ear. The girl had separated herself from the rest of the onlookers by moving several paces behind the others. Her face was an anxious mask, her cheeks pale, her eyes wide and a bit wild looking. Regretting that she had left her alone for so long, Eden hurried to rejoin her.
“All of ’em are coming in laid out across them boards. I’m scared, Miss Eden. What if Duncan’s . . .”
Eden ducked beneath the rope and hugged the girl close to her chest. “No matter what happens, God will see us through, Chloe.” She stepped back and clasped the hands of her friend. “Whether this day holds joy or grief, he will be here. And so will I. You’re not alone.”
“Will you stay with me while they bring ’em in?” Chloe sniffed and pulled one of her hands free to wipe at her eyes.
Eden squeezed her other hand. “Of course.” And at that moment she vowed that if Dr. Adams requested her help again, she’d decline. Her place was with Chloe now.
The first trio straggled toward the waiting crowd. Eden and Chloe edged up along the rope barrier to a position where they could better see what was happening. Dr. Adams stopped the workmen several yards out, placed his ear to the prostrate man’s chest, pressed his fingers to his wrist, then shook his head and straightened. Without a word to the families, he strode in the direction of the next litter.
Sheriff Pratt held the front of the plank that supported the fallen man the doctor had just checked, and as they neared the crowd, he signaled his partner to lower the board to the ground. He tugged his hat from his head and with slow steps, arrived to face the mother of the little girl. Two teen boys flanked her, each placing a hand on one of her shoulders as she clutched the young girl to her middle.
“Mrs. Dalton. Ma’am. I’m sorry, but your husband didn’t make it.”
The woman bowed her head, and if she wept, she did so quietly. Eden imagined her trying to stay strong for her children, but when the little girl twisted out of her grasp and asked why her papa was sleeping on that board, the woman crumpled. Her sons supported her elbows as the tight group crept forward to say their good-byes.
The next litter came in, and as the quarrymen called for Mr. Jones, Chloe let out a tiny moan that could have been sympathy or relief, Eden wasn’t sure. The older man strode out to meet them as Levi and Mr. Fieldman approached with the final man. The doctor trailed behind.
“Duncan.” Chloe released Eden’s hand and ran out to meet them. Eden hiked up her skirt and followed, her heart sending a plea heavenward with every frantic beat that thumped in her chest.
Eden tried to catch Levi’s eye as she ran, but he was focusing on the ground before him. The grim line of his mouth did nothing to lift her spirits.
When Chloe reached Duncan’s side, she reached for him, but Dr. Adams stopped her by gently grasping her wrist and steering it away.
“Best not to touch him just yet, miss. I suspect he’s got several cracked ribs as well as a nasty blow to the head. The less we jar him the better.”
Chloe spun to face the doctor, freeing her hand as she turned. “So he’s . . . he’s alive?”
“Yes. And I’m going to do everything I can to keep him that way.” Dr. Adams stepped around her. “Now let’s get him to the examination area, where I can tend him.”
“He’s alive, Miss Eden.” The despair and fear that had been etched into Chloe’s face for the last several hours gave way to a joyous smile. “He’s alive!”
Levi glanced at Eden for a just a second, and a wealth of meaning passed between them. She read his exhaustion and his elation, his determination and his hope. But there was something else there, too. Something intimate and deep. Something meant for her alone. A promise. One that made her stomach tickle.
In a matter of minutes, Levi and Mr. Fieldman had Duncan laid across the second sawhorse table. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell in a satisfying manner. After releasing the end of the litter, the quarry owner turned to face Chloe.
“McPherson’s a good man, miss. And strong, too. He’ll pull through. And when he does, you tell him I have a stonecutting job waiting for him.”
Chloe smiled at the man. “Thank you, sir. He’ll be happy to hear it.”
Mr. Fieldman clapped Levi on the shoulder. “If you ever find yourself in need of work, Grant, you’ve got a position here for the asking.”
Levi nodded. “I think I’ll . . . keep on at the forge for now.”
“I understand.” Mr. Fieldman glanced past Levi to the families clustered around the bodies of the men who’d not been as fortunate. “I . . . ah . . . better go see what I can do for Mrs. Dalton and Ernest Jones. Take good care of our boy, Doc.”
“I will.” Dr. Adams already had Duncan’s shirt cut open and was busy checking the young man’s ribs.
Eden fetched the coffeepot of water she’d filled earlier and brought it to Chloe. “Why don’t you bathe his face while the doctor is working. I’m sure it would be a comfort for him to be clean when he wakes.”
Chloe accepted the task eagerly, but as she tipped the spout to dampen her cloth, she suddenly stopped. She dropped the washrag atop the coffeepot, then rushed over to Levi and wrapped her arms around his waist, much like she had in the library earlier.
“Thank you, Mr. Levi. You got him out, just like you said you would.”
Eden smiled at the picture they made, her giant blacksmith giving Chloe an awkward pat while the girl burrowed into him.
“God
got him out, Chloe,” Levi said. “He merely borrowed my arms to do the heavy work.”
“Do . . . do you think he’d accept my thank-you?” Eden heard lingering insecurity in Chloe’s voice as she struggled to believe that God would listen to one such as her.
“Yep, I do, Chloe girl. I truly do.”
“Chloe?” A rasping sound came from the man on the table, and everyone jumped. “That you, lass? I’m not seein’ ye.”
Chloe scurried to his side, taking the hand he lifted a couple of inches off the table. “I’m here, Duncan. I’m here.”
Eden and Levi converged on the table, as well—Levi lightly fitting his hand to the curve of her back. She didn’t realize how much she’d longed for that physical connection to him until that moment. His touch filled her with warmth and security, making it all the sweeter to see Chloe and Duncan share a similar bond.
“Ah, me darlin’ Chloe.” Duncan tried to smile, but a cough interrupted him. He grimaced and tried to curl in on himself, his broken ribs surely paining him as the cough worked its way free. Once it passed, though, his lips twitched, hinting at the charming grin that was so much a part of him.
“I dreamed o’ ye, lass, down in that pit. I dreamed . . . and I promised meself that if the Almighty saw fit to spare me sorry hide, that I’d be asking a favor of ye the moment I saw yer bonny face.”
Chloe lifted Duncan’s filthy hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d do anything for you, Duncan. Anything.”
“Are ye sure, lass?” He paused, staring up at her.
“I’m sure.”
“Good. ’Cause I want ye to let me give ye a last name. . . . Mine.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Eden smiled to herself as the quiet banter of Chloe and Duncan filtered from the kitchen into the reading room. It had only been three days since the accident at the quarry, but Mr. McPherson was putting his convalescence to good use. Since he couldn’t work, he devoted all his time to courting, and Eden had never seen Chloe happier.