Alaskan Brides: Gold Rush Baby Part 4

"Back to normal."

He waited, frowned. "And?"

"And now I check the bandage." Jacob lowered the covers to his waist. "More good news. There is no seepage."

He fought the urge to grab the doctor's shirtfront and shake an answer from him. As if he could. "Which means?"

"Which means I must speak to Viola and see if she has more pillows I can use to prop you up a bit. If you give me your word you will not try to lift yourself higher, sit up or move about."

"Fine."

The doctor's left brow lifted toward his dark hair. "That sounded a little sour, and came a bit too quickly, Thomas. I will have your word as a man of G.o.d."

Perhaps twisting Jacob's shirtfront and choking him would be more satisfactory than merely shaking him. Thomas took a breath, nodded. "All right. I give you my word."

"Excellent. Now let me go and find Viola and see about those pillows."

Thomas watched Jacob go out the door, tried not to envy him the freedom of movement. There was finally some progress. Not as much as he would like. But it would be good not to have to lie flat on his back and... In everything give thanks: for this is the will of G.o.d in Christ Jesus concerning you. The scripture flowed into his thoughts, brought him up short. He closed his eyes and opened his heart. "Forgive me, Lord, for murmuring and complaining. I thank You for Your care. Please heal me quickly, so I am not a burden to Miss-"

"These pillows will work perfectly, Viola."

Thomas opened his eyes, slid his gaze toward the door, listened to the footsteps approaching. Surely Jacob was not bringing Viola G.o.ddard in here. His bandages! He braced himself for the pain he knew would follow and groped for the covers, froze when Viola, carrying a pillow, entered the room followed by Jacob Calloway, his arms wrapped around more pillows.

Viola looked his way, her steps faltered, he looked at her eyes, followed her gaze to his uncovered chest, and clenched his hand on the edge of the blanket. Choking was not fit punishment for Dr. Calloway. He would have to think of something more dire.

"You stand there, Viola-" the doctor dropped the pillows on the bed and indicated the spot next to his wounded shoulder "-and I will go around to Thomas' s good side and lift him. When I have his head and shoulders high enough off the bed, I want you to place the pillows-two beneath his head and one beneath his shoulders. Thomas-" Jacob looked down at him, no longer friend, but all doctor "-do not tense your body, and do not try to help. All right, everyone ready? I shall lift on three. One...two...three."

Pain sliced across his chest, drove the air from his lungs. Thomas gritted his teeth and set his jaw, fought down a swirl of nausea. His vision blurred, then cleared to reveal Viola leaning over him, her teeth clamped down on her full lower lip, her violet-blue eyes gentle with sympathy. The soft warmth of her hands touched his back as she placed the pillows beneath him. "All right, Doctor."

He stopped himself from tensing as Jacob lowered him and withdrew his arm. The softness of feather pillows in rose-scented cases embraced him. Cold sweat chilled him. He shivered, closed his eyes, drew a breath. The nausea ebbed.

"He can have solid food now, Viola. But I want him to continue to drink a lot of water. And he may begin moving his good arm a bit now. But only up and down slowly."

"All right, Doctor."

The covers were pulled up over his chest and shoulders. Soft hands tucked them under his chin-her hands, with that same faint hint of roses clinging to them.

"Give him the pain medicine with his meals, even if he says he doesn't want it. He's a stubborn cuss. But if you appeal to his G.o.dly side, he will come around."

"I shall remember that, Doctor. Now, if there is nothing further, I will go and tell Hattie she does not need to fix any broth for Mr. Stone, that he will share our dinner."

Thomas opened his eyes, watched Viola walk from the room, then fastened his gaze on Jacob Calloway. "You have a lot to answer for when I get out of this bed, Doctor. I do not want Viola subjected to such tasks again."

"Threats? Tsk, tsk." Jacob smiled and picked up his bag. "Remember your profession, Pastor Stone. Brotherly love and all of that."

"No need to concern yourself, Jacob. If you do not ask Viola to do any more nursing tasks all will be well. And if you do, I will love you the whole time I am pummeling you."

"You're not smiling, Thomas."

"No. I'm serious, Jacob. The sight of my bandages upsets Viola. I do not want her subjected to that again."

"I see." Jacob narrowed his eyes and studied him. "Methinks thou doth protest too much. The question is...why?" He lifted a hand in farewell and walked out the door.

Why?

The question hung suspended in the empty room, bald and begging to be answered. Thomas closed his mind to its challenge. He looked out the window, lifted his gaze beyond the trees in Viola's backyard, to the mountains that enfolded the town of Treasure Creek, and thought about the prospectors climbing the Chilkoot Trail in search of gold. How foolish those men, thinking happiness rested in possessing the precious metal or the things it could buy.

Viola slipped the bottle from between Goldie's lips, blotted away the sweetened goat's milk pooled at the corners of her tiny mouth and rose from the rocker. She knelt on the floor, kissed the warm, soft cheek and laid Goldie in her cradle. The baby's eyelids fluttered, opened, slid closed again. Viola smiled, drew the blankets up, then sat back on her heels and looked at the handmade cradle. Goldie would soon be outgrowing it. As soon as she could leave Thomas to Hattie's care, she would go to Tanner's and look through the catalogs and order a crib for the baby.

She glanced toward the bed to check on Thomas, found his gaze on her and suppressed a shiver. "I didn't realize you were awake."

"I didn't want to say anything. I thought I might wake the baby."

There was sadness in his quiet words. And in his eyes. Or was she imagining it because she knew about his child? She rose, shook out her long skirt and crossed to the bed. "Goldie sleeps quite soundly for a baby...I think. I've no experience with babies."

"From what I've seen, you're very good with her."

"Thank you." She reached up and tucked a lock of hair Goldie had pulled free back under her snood. "Would you like some water? Or perhaps some bread and b.u.t.ter? It will be a while until supper, and you must be hungry after having only broth since you were...wounded."

"No bread and b.u.t.ter. But I will have some water please. And no spoon. Now that I am permitted to move my arm, I can handle the gla.s.s myself." He grinned, chuckled. "Foolish of me to feel that is such an accomplishment. I've been feeding myself for years now."

She stared at him, taken aback by the deep, rumbly sound of his chuckle, the warm, fluttering response in her own chest. Dengler, and the men who visited her in his house, never laughed in a pleasant way. Nor did his thugs. Their laughter was cruel. The urge to smile died. She poured Thomas's water and handed him the gla.s.s-hovered nearby while he drank it, lest he start to spill.

"Thank you." He held out the gla.s.s.

She stared at it, empty now, with nothing to spill if he grabbed her wrist.

"Is something wrong?"

She glanced at him, met his gaze and shook her head. "No, nothing." She s.n.a.t.c.hed the gla.s.s, drew it away from his hand. "Would you like more water?"

"Not now. What I would like is for you to sit down and rest." His gaze swept over her face. "You look tired. I'm afraid you're exhausting yourself caring for me."

"I'm fine." She turned away from him, uncomfortable and tense. Why did he say things like that? She put the gla.s.s on the table and reached to close the curtains.

"Would you leave the curtains open please?"

She lowered her hands, looked at him. "You do not want them closed so you can sleep?"

He shook his head. "No, I have slept enough, and I like looking outside. It makes me hopeful. There is nothing like G.o.d's sunshine to cheer you up."

His smile was warm, friendly. It increased her discomfort. Thomas did not act like the other men she had known, which made her very uneasy indeed. She didn't know what to expect from him. She went to the rocker and picked up the jacket she was mending for Ezra Paine, freed the threaded needle from the fabric, where she had stuck it for safekeeping and took another neat st.i.tch in the row, repairing the slash in the sleeve. A knife slash. Now she understood that. She glanced at the ridge of scar tissue on the edge of her hand. She was familiar with things like knife cuts and bruised flesh. But not with a man who considered a woman's needs. How was she to respond to such remarks from Thomas Stone? What was she to think...to believe?

"How long have you had Goldie?"

She jerked, p.r.i.c.ked her finger-not hard. There was no blood. She resisted the urge to put the stinging fingertip in her mouth and took another st.i.tch. "It will soon be two months."

"I'd heard she was left on your doorstep, but figured it was just a rumor."

"No. It's quite true." She stilled her hands, looked down at Goldie. "There was a knock on my door one night, but when I opened it no one was there. Only the cradle on my stoop, with Goldie wrapped in her blanket fast asleep, a bottle, a few items of clothing, the small poke with two gold nuggets and a note from her father asking me to care for her until he returned."

"So her father is a friend."

She glanced at him, then looked down and resumed sewing. "No. I was only newly arrived in Treasure Creek at the time. I had no friends."

"You had one."

Did he doubt her word? She frowned, looked up.

He smiled. "G.o.d chose you to watch over the baby."

You wouldn't say that if you knew my past. She shook her head, as much to rid herself of the thought as to deny his statement. "I hardly think it was G.o.d."

"I'm certain it was." His gaze held hers. "The Bible says, 'When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.'" He smiled. "G.o.d is simply using your heart to love Goldie, and your hands to care for her."

It was a lovely thought. One she might even believe, if she hadn't been forsaken. Of course, G.o.d's word might not apply to a fifteen-year-old girl cast penniless and helpless onto the streets of Seattle when her parents died. Bitterness rose, soured her stomach. "Perhaps you are right, Mr. Stone. But if that is true, the Lord will have to help my unbelief. Now, I must go see how Hattie is coming along with supper." She set her sewing aside, checked to be sure Goldie was sleeping and hurried from the room before he could ask another question about her past.

Chapter Six.

"Here's dinner."

"Hattie, I told you to call and I would come get his food." Viola put down her sewing, rose and reached for the plate. "You didn't have to carry this in."

"I wanted to see how your patient is doin'." Hattie ignored her outstretched hands and walked to the bed.

Viola flexed her empty hands, frowned and hurried after her. Hattie was so outspoken and unconventional, there was no knowing what she might say or do. And the way she had been smiling...

"You're lookin' some better, Thomas." Hattie tipped her head, studied him. "Seems like you might even live."

Thomas grinned, gave an audible sniff. "I think I might-once I get whatever you're holding that smells so good in me."

Hattie gave her pleased chuckle. "It's beef stew. Beef'll help you get your strength back fast."

His stomach rumbled.

Hattie laughed, looked up at Viola. "Better feed this poor man afore he perishes."

A frown wiped the smile from Thomas's face. "I'm sorry I can't feed myself, Miss G.o.ddard."

"I'm certain you will soon be sitting up and doing so, Mr. Stone." She reached for the plate. It was pulled back. She jerked her gaze up to Hattie's face.

"Well ain't you two all niminy-piminy!" Hattie snorted, looked back to Thomas Stone. "What's wrong with you two calling each other Thomas and Viola is what I'd like to know?"

Viola stiffened, stared at Hattie's artless expression. So that was what she- "Nothing at all, Hattie. If Miss G.o.ddard agrees."

A smug expression, quickly erased, swept over Hattie's aged face.

Viola masked her displeasure, met Thomas's gaze and gave him a polite nod. "That will be fine." She reached out and took a firm hold on the plate. Hattie relinquished it with a sweet smile.

"I'll take Goldie out to the kitchen with me, Viola. So's you won't have to worry about her whilst you're feedin' Thomas." The elderly woman turned to the baby, scooped her up and marched out the door.

Viola watched her leave, wishing she had never come and that the past few minutes had not happened. Thomas and Viola. So cozy and friendly. Well, she had no intention of befriending Thomas Stone. And now, thanks to Hattie, it would be difficult to resume that polite distance she had so carefully maintained. She put down the plate and spread the towel over the quilt, careful not to meet Thomas's gaze, then lifted the plate.

"I think I can manage the bread."

She nodded, handed him the piece of bread and b.u.t.ter resting on the rim of the plate. "I apologize for Hattie's comment, Mr. Stone. We-"

"Thomas." He took a bite of bread.

She took a breath. "As I was saying, we do not have to use our given names."

"Mmm, real food. Tastes good!" He looked up, met her gaze, held it. "No we don't. But continuing to use formal address seems rather foolish in these circ.u.mstances."

"Yes, but-"

He shook his head. "No 'buts,' Viola. You agreed."

A tingle skittered through her at the soft way he spoke her name. It intensified when he smiled. She looked down at the plate, confused by the reaction.

"You don't want to get us in trouble with Hattie, do you? She strikes me as a lady to be reckoned with."

"So I am learning."

He chuckled, and that odd, warm little flutter happened again in her chest. She pushed at a piece of meat, held her face expressionless. She was a master at that.

"How long has she lived with you?" He took another bite of bread, then lowered his hand to rest it on the bed.

More questions about her past. She held back a frown. "Since her husband died." She stabbed the bite of beef and held it to his mouth. "It's a little over a month now." She chose carrot and potato for his next bite. Swiped it through the rich gravy. When she looked up from the plate, she found him studying her, his face sober.

"Did you know Hattie before you came to Treasure Creek?"

"No. I met her at church." Her words were curt, her tone cool. She offered him the bite of vegetables to stop him from talking.

"So you had only just met when she was widowed?" He accepted the bite, chewed slowly.

"Yes." She stabbed another piece of beef, uncomfortable with his steady perusal.

"Yet you took her in."

There was something warm in his voice...approval? Whatever it was, she didn't want it there. She nodded, gave him a cool look. "I only did what anyone would do." She added onion and held out the piece of meat, wishing she could leave the room.