The sun had passed its zenith, and was slowly sinking toward the western horizon. The sunshine was warm on their faces and painfully bright to their eyes as they emerged from the tree line onto the open plains, but both Marie and Jack turned their faces toward it, grateful for its presence, and savoring its warmth on their skin, even as they were forced to squint their eyes or close them altogether against the brightness.
Seated on the broad backs of the heavy draft horses, they were still wrapped in the gray wool blankets, clutching the ends together beneath their chins, and gradually, the chill that they had endured over the past two days began to subside.
As if by mutual consensus, the three friends rode side-by-side, Jack and Clive on the outside, with Marie tucked between them. Ahead of them, the townsmen rode proudly in the lead, satisfied with having performed a good job. With a smile, Jack observed their erect carriages and puffed chests, knowing that each man would tell and retell the story to family and friends, boasting about their part in saving the lives of the marshal and the doctor. He also knew that with each retelling, the story would probably grow into something much different than the actual event, but he would not interfere with their stories in any way. He would just let them have their moment of glory.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the brightness of daylight, Marie turned her gaze to the majestic snow-capped peaks in the west. "That is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen!"
Clive followed her gaze, surprised by the comment. "What, the mountains? Marie, you see them almost every day," he pointed out, but his voice was kind and his eyes were smiling at her obvious pleasure.
"I see them every day," she agreed, "but I've never looked at them quite like this before. Everything looks so wonderful!"
"Bein' in a situation like we was just in sorta makes ya see things diff'rently, don't it?" Jack agreed. He squinted his eyes painfully against the sun's glare. "Everything bein' so bright, 'n all," he added.
"I guess it would seem different, living in the dark for two days," Clive admitted. "It must have been terrible for you."
"It wasn't exactly the most pleasant experience we ever had, I'll tell ya that," Jack said.
"I've got to tell you two, I wasn't sure what we were going to find down in that cellar. You had the whole town worried."
"How is Lucy?" Marie asked, her thoughts irresistibly drawn to her young ward. "The past two days must have been terrible for her."
"She's fine," Clive told her. "Sally has been staying at your place with her. She's worried about you, though. They both are. In fact, Sally stormed into Zack's place to report you missing while I was having dinner that first night."
"Zack let her in?" Jack asked, surprised.
"Not exactly. She came in through the back door," Clive told him. "She did cause a bit of a -- what would you call it? A ruckus? Dom tried to block her path and attempted to escort her back out, but she threw him onto a table where Mr. and Mrs. Cooper were having supper. All their food and dishes landed on the floor."
Jack burst out laughing. "I'd love to 've seen that!"
"I have to admit, it was a sight worth seeing!" Clive chuckled. "I didn't know she was so strong! He managed to get the table upright again, and had to replace the Coopers' meals, but there was no real harm done. I thought Zack would probably charge her for the Coopers' meals, but I think he understood why she was so upset, and decided to overlook it."
"I'm glad," Marie said. "Sally's a good friend."
"Well, they'll both be glad to see you safe," Clive concluded.
"I can't wait to see them, too," Marie said. Casting a meaningful glance at Clive, she added, "Especially Lucy. She's become very much like a daughter to me."
If Clive heard the meaning behind her glance or the statement, he did not reveal it. Jack, however, understood it, and knew that the Mountie would have some serious explaining to do once Marie felt up to a debate on the subject. He hid a smile behind his hand, hoping he would be given the opportunity to witness the encounter.
After leaving the church that morning, Lucy had returned to the house and spent most of the morning sitting at her bedroom window, across the hall from Marie's room, watching the North road. Her hands trembled with apprehension, fearful of what she would see when the men returned to town.
Sally had brought breakfast to her on a tray, but, unable to eat because of her nervous stomach, she had refused the kind offer. With a worried expression, Sally had returned to the kitchen, trying to keep her hands busy while she waited for news. Deep down inside, she feared the news would be the worst. Finally, exhausted, she sat down on the lounge beneath the window to rest.
When the group of riders finally came into view in the afternoon, Lucy stood up for the best view possible, and pressed her forehead against the cold glass, trying to recognize the individuals. She immediately recognized the bowl hats belonging to Mr. MacWherter and Mr. Gleeson, who rode in the lead. Carefully, she studied their expressions. They did not appear somber; in fact, they appeared to be smiling! Mr. Bertino, Mr. Denny, and the others rode behind the leaders. They, too, appeared jovial!
Hope soared. If the news was bad, they would not be smiling.
Finally, near the end of the procession, she saw three people riding close together. One of them was Corporal Bennett, and the other two ---
Her heart leaped with joy, and a bright smile broke out on her face, recognizing the full head of blonde hair that could only belong to Marie.
Shoving herself away from the window, she raced out the bedroom door and pounded down the stairs as fast as she could run without risk of falling down the stairs.
Dozing on the lounge, Sally was startled awake by the pounding of feet on the staircase. Her body flinched as she came awake, and she jerked her chin from her hand and looked up with weary eyes, wondering how the girl could find so much energy after two sleepless nights.
"Lucy, where are you going?" she asked, rising from the lounge when she realized that the girl was rushing for the door. "What's wrong?"
"They're back!" Lucy shouted, breathlessly.
Fearful of what she would see, Sally sought to prevent her from meeting the returning townsmen. "Lucy, wait!"
Her protests fell upon deaf ears. Without slowing her pace, Lucy reached the bottom of the stairs, raced across the foyer, yanked open the door, and rushed outside.
"Lucy, wait!" Sally shouted after her.
Lucy leaped off the edge of the porch, not bothering to take the stairs. By the time Sally reached the door, Lucy was already running across the lawn, hair and skirts flying. She ducked under the clothesline, and reached the side gate just as the group of riders was passing it.
"Lucy!" Marie called. Jerking her horse to a halt, she slid from the back of the draft horse, and met he excited girl halfway. A moment later, they were in one another's arms, hugging each other tightly.
"Oh, Marie!" Lucy cried, tears of joy and relief streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so glad you're safe! I was so worried! Where have you been?"
Marie drew back to look into the girl's happy face, and brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Let's go inside, and I'll tell you all about it."
"You go ahead, Marie," Clive told her. "We'll take care of the horse."
Marie started toward the house, then turned back, her gaze meeting that of the marshal. "Jack, don't forget. After you get cleaned up, come to my house and have some soup with me."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Marie," he replied.
Marie turned back toward the house just as Sally came around the corner of the structure. Her face lit up, excitedly. "Marie!" she cried, rushing forward.
After embracing her good friend, Marie said, "I'll tell you both all about it, but I want to get inside and get cleaned up, first."
Sally placed an arm around her on one side, and Lucy did the same on the other side, and the three women walked toward the house together.
Jack and Clive watched them go, both of them smiling.
"So, tell me, Jack," Clive said. "What was it like being trapped in a cellar for two days and nights?"
"Well, I cain't say much for the setting, but the company was good," Jack repied, evasively. Nudging the horse with his heels, he urged his mount forward, leaving the Mountie to stare after him, wondering exactly what he had meant by that statement.
Jack's cabin was cold when he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Alone at last, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the door, allowing his weariness to show in his face and his posture, expressions he would never have allowed anyone else to witness. He could not recall a time in his entire life that he had been so exhusted. Not even during the war.
A wry smile formed on his lips. Of course, he had been twenty years younger during the war. Time does have a way of altering things!
As he had made his way along Main Street, walking toward his cabin, he had been stopped over and over by well-wishers who were glad to see him, offering words of respect and welcomes. Politely, he had responded to each one, thanking them for their concern and smiling in response to their comments, when all he wanted to do was get to his cabin, get cleaned up, and rest.
With a sigh, he pushed away from the door and moved to the pot bellied stove. He opened the damper, inserted an armload of wood from the woodbox and several wadded up pieces of newspaper, and ignited the kindling with a match. The tiny flame sputtered, caught hold of the newspapers and twigs, and grew into a good fire. He stoked it into a roaring blaze that quickly warmed the small cabin enough that he could shed the blanket.
He looked around his cluttered cabin. "Now, what did I do with that?" he asked himself, seeking the item that was used infrequently. Finally, his eyes fell upon the bathtub in the midst of all the clutter, propped against the far wall in the corner. He dragged it out into the center of the room near the fire, cringing when the effort caused him pain. Then, he took his bucket and carried it out back, and filled it with water from the well.
Lifting the heavy bucket was not an easy task, for it placed strain on his fractured rib. He paused to sigh with annoyance. This was going to take some getting used to. Shifting the bucket to his other hand, he grimaced as he carried it back to the cabin, where it was emptied into a large pot on the stove. While it heated, he filled the bucket again and again, transferring the hot water to the bathtub, and refilling the pot on the fire. It took a long time, but finally, he had enough hot water in the bathtub for an adequate bath.
Yawning with fatigue, he unfastened his gun belt, and draped it over the back of a chair, then sat down on the edge of the rumpled bed to remove his boots and socks. He dropped them on the floor, and sat still for several minutes, resisting the urge to simply lie back and go to sleep.
Forcing himself to stand up, he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it carefully, trying to avoid stressing his injuries any more than they already were. It was dropped on the floor along with the boots and socks. His trousers followed, but when he started to lower his long underwear, he stopped, glancing quickly at the door. Recalling a time when four people, including Clive and Marie, had simply opened his door and walked in on him during a bath, he locked it securely, then completed the task of undressing.
Pausing before a mirror as he made his way back to the tub, he glanced at himself and was startled by what he saw. His entire torso was blotched with black and blue bruises from the beams and debris that had struck him during the cave-ins. His hand sought out the fractured rib, pressing his fingertips gingerly against the hard ridge, its location marked with a large bruise, and he cringed when the pressure he applied caused pain.
"Yer one lucky hombre, Craddock," he said to the reflection that gazed back at him.
Turning away from the mirror, he stepped into the tub and eased his battered body into the hot water with a contented "Ahhh!"
For a while, he simply leaned back and closed his eyes, satisfied to sit in the bath and allow the hot water to soothe his injuries. He relaxed so completely that he could feel himself slipping into that warm and cozy place that one encounters just prior to dozing off. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and went about the task of washing away the dirt and debris from his body and his thick longish hair, liberally applying the soap that he had purchased from Marie at the general store.
When he was suitably cleansed of the filth that had rained down on him during his confinement inside the cellar of the abandoned old house, Jack vigorously dried himself with a linen towel, and searched for a clean pair of underwear. Unable to locate a clean pair of longhandles, he had to settle for a pair of summer undergarments, consisting of just the bottoms and tied at the waist with a cord. Perhaps that would be better anyway, he decided as he stepped into them, for Marie would likely insist on wrapping his ribs with a bandage.
Pausing in front of the mirror again, he scratched at the beard that bristled on his cheeks and chin. He hated shaving. Usually, he ended up peeling off as much skin as he did whiskers, which was why he typically went days without bothering with that particular task. However, with Marie's beautiful face in mind, he lathered his face and shaved off the bristles, leaving only the mustache.
After rinsing his face in the basin of water, he stroked the smooth skin with his fingers. Not bad, he thought. Only one cut. I'm getting better at this!
Next, he reached for the tin of bear grease, intending to slick back his hair, then hesitated. He could not recall a single time that he had seen Clive slick back his hair in that fashion, and considered the possibility that it might be going out of style. He reached up to finger comb his damp hair. He still had a full head of hair, an envious commodity that many men his age were lacking. It was clean and fresh, and would dry with a slight wave.
He snapped the lid back on the tin of bear grease and returned it to the shelf, deciding against using it this time.
He then searched through his clothing for a clean pair of trouser and a clean shirt. Then, freshly bathed, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes, Jack took his favorite coat onto the front porch, where he slammed it a couple of times against the support post to dislodge the dust that had settled into the folds, then coughed as a fine cloud of dust rose from the fabric and hovered in the air on the porch. Moving upwind of the dust cloud, he whacked it a couple more times for good measure, then, satisfied that it was as clean as he was going to get it, he put it on as he stepped from the porch and made his way across the open area toward the boardwalk in front of the saloon.
The temperatures had warmed somewhat as the sun settled into afternoon, but the mild chill was intensified by Jack's slightly damp hair. Marie would probably scold him for not seeing to it that his hair was fuly dried before venturing out into the autumn air, but he was eager to enjoy her company again, this time in the comfort of her home.
He mounted the boardwalk steps and passed Zack Denny's door, catching a phrase or two of the saloonkeeper's recount of the rescue of the marshal and the doctor. With an amused smile, he paused to observe, noticing that almost everyone in attendance had participated in the rescue, and all were offering their own particular twist to the story. By the end of the day, he knew the story would take on a life of its own. Moving away from the door, he proceeded down the boardwalk.
He was greeted by smiles and well wishes by those who passed him, those who had found a new appreciation of their law officer. He responded in kind, but as he passed the law enforcement offices, the door opened and Clive stepped onto the boardwalk with Grace Upton on his arm. All three stopped, as if surprised to see one another.
Jack quickly doffed his hat to the young woman. "Afternoon, ma'am."
"Good afternoon, Marshal," she responded with a pleasant smile. "I was so happy to hear that you had made it back safely."
"Thanks to the good corporal, here, and the other townsfolk who pitched in to get us out," he replied, casting a quick glance at Clive, who was watching him with a strange expression, apparently noticing that he had cleaned himself up and shaved. Jack rarely shaved unless he was trying to impress Marie. "I sure wasn't lookin' forward t' spendin' another night down in that there cellar!"
"I sure hope you catch that horrible man who did this."
"We'll get him," Jack assured her.
Clive entered the conversation for the first time. "I thought you'd probably be resting, Jack. You're bound to be exhausted."
"I'm all right, Clive, but thank you for askin'. Well, you two look like yer headin' to dinner, so I'll let you two get on with what you was doin'."
"You headed over to Marie's?" Clive asked, quickly, a peculiar tone to his voice.
"Yup. She said she was fixin' somethin' special for us," Jack needled, sensing that Clive was experiencing a twinge of jealousy. For a moment, he feared the corporal would invite himself and Grace to join them, but if the thought entered his mind, it was quickly dismissed.
"Well, I guess I'll see you later?" Clive said, presenting it more as a question than a comment.
"Oh, I doubt it, Corporal. I'll prob'ly see you tomorrow, sometime. I'll be spendin' the ev'nin' with Marie." Touching the brow of his hat again, he proceeded down the boardwalk toward Marie's house. He could feel Clive's eyes boring into his back, but he did not turn around.
Realizing that Clive was jealous of the time Jack intended to spend with the doctor, and understanding that Marie Dumont was still a rival, she nudged him on the arm. "Clive?"
His eyes snapped back to her face with a guilty expression that he had neglected her. "Oh! Yes." He offered his arm, and when she took it, they proceeded down the boardwalk toward the saloon. Allowing Grace to enter first, Clive cast one final, lingerly gaze up the street at Jack.
Lucy was watching from the front window, and when she saw the marshal approaching the front porch, she yanked the door open and rushed into his arms for a hug. "I'm so glad to see you!" she exclaimed.
"Easy, there," he said, cheerfully. "Marie says I got a busted rib." His arms encircled her, and he held onto her tightly. "With that kind o' greetin', I might just make a habit o' stoppin' by more often!" he told her, lifting her off the ground, then set her down again.
"I wish you would!" she told him. "I like it when you come by." She took his hand and led him to the house. "Marie's making soup, and boy! Does it smell good!"
As Jack stepped through the door, the mouthwatering aroma of Marie's soup reached his nostrils, and awakened his empty stomach, which grumbled in anticipation. "That does smell good!" he agreed.
"Jack, is that you?" Marie called from the kitchen.
"Yup. Me 'n Lucy."
She appeared in the parlor doorway, a wooden spoon in hand, and she smiled when she saw him. "I was afraid you might decide to stop at Zack's."
"You forbade me from doin' that, remember?" He observed her with admiring eyes. She had bathed and changed into a clean dress, and her long blonde hair was freshly washed and still damp, held back from her face by a ribbon. To him, she had never looked more beautiful. "Besides, how could I turn down an invitation from you and Lucy, huh? Ain't no place I'd rather be."
"Why don't you hang up your coat, and get comfortable," she suggested.
Lucy grasped his coat and helped him out of it, then hung it up for him in the foyer while he joined Marie in the kitchen.
He leaned over the pot, inhaling the aroma that drifted up from it. "My, that smells good!"
"I know," she smiled. "I've been fighting the urge to sample it."
"Reminds me a bit o' my ma's soup," he said, fondly. "That woman could cook! Even when we didn't have much to fix, she always managed to make somethin' good outta what little we had."
Marie listened with interested. Jack rarely spoke of his family. "She sounds like a fine lady."
"There was none better. How's your ankle?" he asked, remembering that she had received a sprained ankle during the collapse of the old house.
She flexed the foot, demonstrating that she could move it without too much discomfort. "It's not too bad. A little black and blue, but I'm getting around better than I thought I would." She noticed for the first time that Jack's hair was not completely dry. "Jack! Your hair is still wet! You should not have gone outside until it was completely dry! In this weather you'll catch your death of cold!"
He squirmed much the same way he had when he had been scolded by his mother as a boy. "I know, but I was gettin' hungry, Marie. I cain't even remember the last time I had somethin' to eat!"
"So am I," she reminded him. "It isn't quite ready yet. As long as you're early, I'll get those ribs wrapped up while we're waiting. Lucy, would you stir the pot occasionally while I take care of the marshal?"
"Sure, Marie," the girl replied.
Fetching a roll of bandages and a pair of scissors, she led him into the parlor. "Take off your shirt," she instructed.
He hesitated, reluctant to allow her to see the number of bruises he had acquired over the past few days. "Are you sure you need to do that, Marie? It really don't hurt all that much."
"It isn't to keep it from hurting, Jack. It's more of a protection than anything else. If you get hit on that side, it could complete the fracture." When he made no move to obey her instructions, she looked into his face, waiting. "Jack!"
He sighed. "Oh, all right." Moving carefully, he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, then draped it over the back of a chair.
Her eyes widened with shock when she saw the bruises, then looked into his face again, fully understanding the degree of abuse he had taken while protecting her from the falling debris. "Jack, those are terrible bruises! I knew you were getting hit by all those falling objects, but ---"
"Now, don't go gettin' all upset," he interrupted, his voice gruff. "It ain't as bad as it looks."
"I'm the doctor, Jack," she reminded him. "You let me be the judge of that!" With gentle fingers, she probed each of the contusions that discolored his skin until she was satisfied that the only fracture was the original injury of the first day. "I don't think there are any other breaks," she said. "Those are very bad bruises, but they will heal in time." She pressed the end of the bandage against his abdomen. "Hold this."
He complied, and she wrapped the bandage around and around his torso, then tied the ends together securely. "Okay, you can put your shirt back on."
He reached for the shirt, very aware of the discomfort of the wrapping. "That's awful tight, Marie!"
"It must be tight to support those ribs," she told him.
"I'm not sure I can even breathe all bound up like this!"
"Now you know what we women go through every day!" she quipped with a smile, referring to the corsets that women wore to preserve their figures and keep themselves from jiggling in embarrassing places, and felt a bit surprised that she was comfortable discussing such intimate things with him.
He smiled in agreement. "Well, I reckon if you women can tolerate it, I can too. At least I can take mine off in a few days."
"In a week or two, Jack," she corrected. "Come by every few days, and I'll rewrap it for you."
He nodded. "All right. If you insist."
"I do!" she said with a smile, then watched as he put on his shirt, trying not to notice his bare chest and the sparse sprinkling of soft hair that decorated the center of it. She looked away, averting her eyes as a soft blush came to her cheeks. She was a doctor; she wasn't supposed to be affected by things like that!
Unaware of the nature of the thoughts that were going through Marie's head, Jack put on the shirt and buttoned it up, then tucked the tails into his trousers.
"Well, I'd better see if the soup is ready!" Marie said. She turned and moved into the kitchen, placing her hands against her cheeks to cool the blush.
Jack followed.
Lucy looked up with a smile, still stirring the pot. "I think it's about done," she said.
Marie took a spoon and sampled it, then nodded her approval. "You're right. Everyone sit down."
She dipped the soup into bowls and carried them to the table, and they all sat down to eat.
Hours later, seated on the lounge with Marie beside him, Jack felt his eyelids growing heavy with fatigue. The three of them had spent the entire evening talking, looking very much like a family. Lucy, especially, enjoyed the family atmosphere, but she had to return to school the next morning, so she excused herself after dark, and went up to bed. Soon after, Jack knew it was time for him to leave.
He rubbed his eyes. "Well, I'd best be goin', Marie, so we can both get some rest."
She nodded in agreement. "It'll be wonderful to spend the night in my own warm bed tonight," she said.
"I know what you mean," he agreed. He stood up and went into the foyer to retrieve his coat. She followed to see him to the door, and took her shawl from the peg. When he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, she put on the shawl and joined him.
It was a beautiful, crisp evening, with a host of stars and a brilliantly glowing moon.
"I'm glad you came by, Jack. I've enjoyed your company tonight."
"I always enjoy yours, Marie," he said as he put on the coat. Then he turned to face her, wanting desperately to kiss her, but not knowing if she would react favorably to it. She had never rebuffed his previous kisses, which had been bestowed in most cases to annoy the corporal, but somehow tonight, the mood was different, more intimate.
She sensed his hesitation, and understood that she had never given him any encouragement, since she had believed her life would be spent with someone else. She recalled his statement of a week ago that she was only interested in him when Clive was otherwise occupied, and knew that she needed to reassure him that his words were not true. Impulsively, she reached up to caress his cheek with her fingertips, conveying the message through the gentle stroke of her fingers.
Correctly perceiving the gesture as a silent invitation, he leaned toward her and gently pressed his lips against hers. She did not pull away, but accepted the kiss willingly. One hand remained against his cheek, but the other hand found its way up his arm to his shoulder, and his arm encircled her waist, pulling her closer.
Finally, he drew back, gazing into her bright blue eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
She nodded. "I'm baking a cherry pie for dessert. You're welcome to join us."
"Caint' turn down an offer like that!" he said with a smile. "Good night, Marie."
"Good night, Jack."
He stepped off the porch and made his way down the street.
Unaware that she was being watched by a pair of enraged, jealous eyes, Marie went back inside and closed the door.
Concealed in the shrubs, Oliver Knapp had witnessed the kiss, and had felt his heart lurch with hate at the favorable attention she was bestowing on the marshal. He had failed in his attempt to eliminate the lawman from Marie's life. He had failed miserably in his attempt to punish them both. Now, he was on his own, having lost his once faithful servant. He sighed, heavily. Now, he would have to carry out a new plan on his own.
Filled with unreasonable anger and unfulfilled longing, he saw the lights go out downstairs as she extinguished all but one lamp. As he watched, the lamp was carried up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Quietly, he left his hiding place, and slipped onto her porch. Unable to resist the urge to test the accessibility of her house, he reached for the doorknob, but found it securely locked, as he had expected it would be. Most people in small towns did not lock their doors, but Marie obviously felt threatened by the fact that he had not been apprehended. He knew the windows would be locked as well, so he did not try them. He would have to wait for a time when she became careless and left a door unlocked. It would happen, in time. Of that, he had not doubt. He must be patient, and wait for the opportunity. Then, he would be able to slip inside and convince her of the mistake she was making by shunning his advances.
GO TO CHAPTER TWENTY ONE