Come Rain Or Shine Part 24

Chapter Forty-eight.

"What are you . . .?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Get back in the house."

The blood had soaked through his shirt and vest.

Emmie cried, "Somebody help him."

Emmie pleaded, but her voice wasn't working right. The words came out too slow as the world spun around her. Emmie pressed her hands against his wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Silas sucked in a breath against the pain of her touch.

"Oh my G.o.d, oh my G.o.d . . ." She couldn't say how many times she repeated the phrase, but it seemed to be the only thing she could make herself say.

"Trick," Silas said, his voice much quieter this time.

"I'm here, brother," Trick said, attempting to nudge Emmie out of the way. She didn't budge.

"Emmie, let me help him." Trick's voice was eerily calm.

She moved to his other side. His good side. The blood-free side. She put her hands on each side of his face. Her fingers left crimson fingerprints on his cheeks. They were stained from covering his wound with her hands. His eyes were dark and piercing as he looked at her. Emmie saw Trick rip his sleeve and shout something to someone standing nearby. The shooting had stopped. The world had gone quiet.

"Silas," her voice quivered as she spoke softly. Tears dripped from her eyes to his chest. He brought his good arm up and touched her face, running his thumb over her cheekbone.

"Mo Chuisle," he said softly.

"I love you. I love you. I'm sorry for everything. I'm so sorry, Silas," Emmie rambled, putting her right hand on top of his.

"You were right," his voice came out as a groan as Trick tied something around his brother's shoulder. "I was a coward to leave you."

"No, you're the bravest man I know. Oh G.o.d please." Emmie looked up at the sky making her words a prayer.

His fingers closed around the ring on her hands. "I wish I would have put that on the other hand."

Emmie moved the ring over to her left hand. "I've always been yours, right or left, it never mattered. Please don't go, Silas. Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me here alone."

She leaned down and kissed his lips, framing his face with her shaking hands again. He closed his eyes against the pain. He looked weaker, his eyes looked tired. It looked as if shadows were descending on him. She leaned down into his ear and whispered again, "My pulse, Mo Chuisle, please don't leave me."

"Walter," she heard Trick shout and saw him grab Silas's chin to get his attention. "We're gonna get you to the hospital, brother. Emmie keep talking to him. Millie put pressure on that while I move him."

Silas's eyes seemed to focus on Emmie again and then he groaned loudly, sucking in a breath as they moved him to the back of Walter's truck. Emmie climbed up into the truck bed, kneeling at his side. Walter took off as fast as the little truck would go. She glanced at their surroundings as they pulled out of the house. Dead leaves and bodies littered the front yard. She saw Mae standing on the front porch with her hand over her heart.

She and Trick did the best they could to keep him still but the gravel road was unforgiving. Trick kept one hand pressed firmly on his brother's wound. She had never seen so much blood. She looked back down at Silas. He was staring at her so intently. His good hand came up to touch her waist; she gripped it tightly. She leaned over him again, whispering prayers in his ear. He grimaced with each b.u.mp and turn. When she leaned back he tried to smile but came up short. When he spoke, his voice came out as little more than a hoa.r.s.e whisper, "M'Aingeal alainn."

"h.e.l.l no, Silas," Trick said, grabbing his brother's face and turning it to face him. "She might be beautiful but you aren't seeing an angel. That's your ball of trouble. You hear me, you aren't seeing angels." Trick tried to make the words come out as a joke but his voice was thick with emotion.

Emmie sat on the hospital floor with her back against the wall. At some point she'd stopped crying. She could hear the rush of doctors and nurses moving around Silas on the other side of the wall. Emmie wrapped her arms around herself and rocked, attempting to find peace in the rhythmic movement. She felt someone drop down next to her. Long arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her head over to his shoulder. All she could see was a long gray beard. The sweet smell of tobacco clung to Walter's clothes. She breathed it in. A sob escaped her.

Walter kissed the top of her head like she was a child cradled in his arms. "Silas is a strong one. How could he not be when he's got you to wake up to?"

His words only made her start to cry again. Fire. She'd expected fires today, not gunshots. Was the risk for fires over? She had no idea what had happened outside. Were the others okay? Had someone shot at the folks at her uncles'? A startling thought entered her mind.

"Walter, Max and Mae are alone in your house. You need to be with them," she said, pulling back to look in his eyes.

The old man didn't object but he didn't stand up either. "Millie's there with them. She and Mae should be fair shots with the sawed-off."

"Walter, go be with them. Max is scared. I'll be fine." Fine. There was that word again. Ava was right. She only said she was fine when she wasn't.

Trick seemed to appear from nowhere. "Go on, Walter. I'd appreciate if you'd ride out to the Sloan place and let them know we are here. They don't have a phone and I can't get out there. Take the butcher brothers with you to clean up."

"You sure you won't come with me?" Walter asked, biting his lip as he waited for her reply.

Emmie just shook her head and kissed the old man on the cheek. "Be careful."

Trick looked apprehensive as he asked the next question, "Will you keep Millie with you tonight? Don't let anyone take her-good or bad guy-until we can talk."

Bo's phone call. Had he known they were going to shoot Silas? He'd said to tell them that Millie didn't know better. Emmie looked up at Trick and swallowed hard. "When Bo called he said to tell you, all of you, that Millie didn't know. That he had used her."

Trick frowned at Emmie. "I suppose the he Bo mentioned was referring to their father?"

Emmie shrugged. "Bo said he was getting on a train tonight. He knew something was going to happen. That's why he called. He said it would be too late by the time he got here."

"Can you tell me what happened outside?" Walter asked.

Trick sat down next to Emmie, ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his mouth before he answered, "I think it's my fault." He put his hand over his mouth and struggled to continue. Emmie rubbed his knee. He shook his head as if to fight off the emotions, then opened his mouth to speak again, "They said they hadn't expected to see us there. Silas made some smart mouth comment like surprise or something. Then he asked them about Emmie's house and the word carved into her barn. Mr. Johnson just laughed and that other man said something about people who run with men like us are going to be punished."

Emmie's mouth dropped open. What had been carved into her barn? What had happened to her house? "Wait, Trick. What are you talking about?"

Trick rolled his eyes and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Emmie. I forgot he hadn't told you yet."

His words registered. "My house is gone."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"And what was carved into the old barn?"

"Moll," he answered.

Emmie felt bile rise in her throat. The same thing Mr. Parbour and Will Thomas had called her. Something clicked together in her mind.

"Trick, that stranger who showed up at the house with Mr. Johnson was Parbour's brother wasn't he?" she asked.

Trick nodded. "Mr. Johnson introduced him right before the shooting started. He said the bootleggers had united. He said Kentucky no longer answered to the boys from Chicago."

"Bootleggers? I get that for Johnson but aren't Parbour's family revenuers?" Emmie asked, confused.

Walter nodded, putting the story together before Emmie. "No. He was only a revenuer to eliminate the compet.i.tion."

Trick nodded in agreement. His eyes were hollow as he said, "Then he said some crude things about Millie being with me. Parbour said she was his gift. They were going to use a nineteen year old girl to unite their families."

"How would any of this be your fault?" Emmie asked.

"I pulled first. I didn't know about the man in the car. I thought Silas and I could take them, I guess. h.e.l.l, the truth was I was p.i.s.sed at the things he'd said about me and Millie that I wanted to shoot that son of a b.i.t.c.h right between the eyes. Looks like I got what I wanted," he sneered. "And now my brother's blood is on my hands."

"Trick, don't," Emmie said, trying to comfort him.

"No, it's true. We didn't even get all the answers we needed from him. I could tell Silas was going to needle them for more information. He didn't want to fight them until we had more men. He was right."

An awful sort of quiet ate up a few minutes. Trick finally looked over at Walter and spoke, "You need to go be with them though. I'm counting on you to get the word to Al. I'd go do it myself but I can't leave him right now."

Walter nodded, understanding. Emmie stood and walked him to the front door of the hospital. She watched until he pulled out onto the main road. When Emmie came back to Silas's room, Trick was inside. His head was bowed in prayer. He wiped his eyes and made the sign of the cross, then bent down and kissed his brother's forehead. He looked up, saw Emmie, and nodded for her to come in.

The nurse had given him a shot to ease the pain. His breathing was slow but easier. She walked over and kissed his forehead. Emmie leaned over him and brushed her fingertips across his forehead and through his hair. With each swipe of her hand she told him of times she'd seen him as handsome, funny, brave or strong: when he'd tossed her his jacket on the first day they'd met, when he'd taught her to dance, when he'd given her the box he'd found in her house, when he'd sent Mr. Thomas flowers . . . flour sacks, peac.o.c.k feathers, pants, flasks of apple pie to make her feel at home, the college applications, the children's books, Bell House, ice skating, and finally she talked to him about the ring he'd given her and his promises.

She leaned down and put her lips against his as she said, "All I want is for you to promise to come back to me, Silas."

Chapter Forty-nine.

Emmie awoke to the gentle pulling of her hair. She batted her eyes and took in her surroundings. Her head rested on the side of the hospital bed, her body stiff from hours spent in the small wooden chair someone had brought in last night. She felt the pull again. Pushing herself back, she found Silas's hand was running through her hair with clumsy movements. Her eyes met his. They were open, only barely, but they were open for the first time since they'd arrived at the hospital yesterday afternoon.

"Mo Chuisle." His voice was so raspy.

"Silas," she cried, moving to stand over him. Emmie ran her hands through his hair. "I love you, Silas."

The corners of his mouth turned up like he was trying to smile but it turned to a grimace as he tried to sit up. He reached over to hold the tender spot on his chest. "Trick?"

"He's right here. Silas, we're both here. Let me go get the nurse. You need more pain medicine," she said, running her fingers down his cheek.

"Trick," Silas said a little louder.

Emmie leaned over and nudged Trick who had propped himself up on the ground against the chair she had been sitting in. He awoke with a startle. Impulsively she saw his hand reach for his holster. She gently put her hand on his. "It's fine. Silas is asking to see you."

Trick jumped up and looked down at his Silas. For a moment his face clouded with sadness at the sight of his older brother pale and tired, but he forced the emotion away and a smile spread across his face. "It's about time you woke up."

The corner of Silas's mouth tilted in a grin at his brother's joke. He swallowed hard before he asked, "Who?"

"You were right, brother. Steve Johnson was still very much alive and he was Mr. Johnson's p.a.w.n in this game. He was the coward shooting from the car. You were right," Trick repeated before he went on. "You got him before you went all the way down. He has met his maker. I took out Parbour and in the end Walter took Johnson."

Silas nodded and blinked a few times before his eyes closed again.

Trick would retell the story five more times that day. The stress and pain medication were causing Silas to be only half coherent. The doctor came in late that evening to give an update. It seemed Silas's life was saved by only a few inches. Had the shot been a few inches lower it would have gone through his heart. The bullet had gone all the way through, a clean hole the doctor had called it. It was a horrible way to describe the injury. Nothing about the hole looked clean to Emmie.

By the third day Silas began to ask to go home and openly refused most of the pain medication. He grumbled as much as Walter when he wasn't getting his way. They still didn't know exactly when Silas would be out of the hospital. The doctor said he was keeping him until the wound's risk of infection subsided. It had been only three days but it seemed to be healing so far. Emmie insisted on having the nurses teach her how to change his bandages, saying she would need to know how when they went home.

"Okay, Mr. McDowell needs his rest, Miss," the nurse said when visiting hours were over. The first day he was at the hospital Trick had talked the nurses into leaving them alone, but these last two days the nurses had moved to the top of Emmie's most-annoying-people list.

"Surely, it wouldn't hurt if I stay a few more minutes." Emmie tried to smile sweetly. The smile went nowhere.

"I'm sorry, Miss, a rule is a rule," she said, jotting something down in Silas's file.

Emmie started to argue but felt Silas squeeze her hand. She turned to him and he was smiling. It was good to see him smile. He'd spent the whole day complaining he wasn't some bedridden old man and didn't like being treated like one.

"You need to get out of here for a little while," he said.

Emmie frowned at him. Maybe he wanted to be alone.

"Have you even left this hospital? I'm pretty sure every time I've opened my eyes- morning, noon, or night-you've been wearing that same dress."

Emmie looked down at her calico long-sleeved dress. Her own clothes had been covered in blood but she refused to leave the hospital, so Walter had brought her one of Mae's.

"Like I've been saying, I'm not some bedridden old man. I'd like for you not to look like an old woman." His face split into a wide grin.

"I think I make high-necked calico look quite nice, Mr. McDowell." She smiled and her face fell. "I don't want to leave. I'll wait outside, close by so you can rest though, and I won't upset these nurses. They already aren't too keen on the idea that I'm changing your bandages."

Silas shook his head and rubbed her hand. "Go. There's a shop just down the street if I remember right. Go buy yourself something nice to wear. Something like you wore the night of the Irish party in Chicago. Give me something to look forward to when you come back."

Emmie rolled her eyes but couldn't help the laugh that escaped her mouth. "You are unbelievable."

"You deserve some time out of this place. I'll see you in a few hours. My wallet is on the table," he said, nodding to a bag with his belongings.

"I don't want to go shopping while you are laid up here, Silas," she said, rubbing his hair.

He grabbed her left hand and took a good look at the ring. She could tell he was remembering when she had changed it over to her other hand.

"Emmie," he looked up at her with sad eyes, "I'm not going to hold you to a promise you made to a man you thought was dying." He grabbed the ring and started to slide it off her finger.

"No." She pulled her hand back and cradled it against her body. "No. I meant what I said. Dying man or living man. Left or right, Silas. I was already yours. I don't care about school. There's more to happiness than the four walls of a cla.s.sroom. Sometimes you don't know what you want until you have it. That's how I feel right now."

"I believe that is how you feel right now. I'm just not sure that's how you'll feel years from now," he said quietly.

"I am sure. I want you. I pick you," she said. Silas groaned and then grimaced, holding his left side. "Now is not the time for this conversation."

Silas nodded giving in to her for now. His eyes were closed as he started to speak, "You know why I picked that ring?"