The girl was not pretty, nor was she striking as she fancied was in some ways better than pretty. Her one redeeming feature, to her way of thinking, was her hair. She had very little in her life to be happy about, and virtually nothing of which to take pride in, but she did take a secret pleasure in knowing her hair was better than most. She knew the other girls envied her, and she noticed the boys would touch it “accidentally” if they could without being seen to do so.
Not that she would appear to be vain. It wasn’t that at all she told herself. It was her identity. It was what separated her from the thirty-seven other girls and the twenty-one boys in the orphanage. Without her flaming red, thick hair to distinguish her, she felt she would lose herself in a sea of similar sized and similarly clad waifs, dependant on the auspices of the church and the charity of the community.
She was only twelve. If she weren’t adopted, it would be another six years before she could leave to make her own way in the world, a prospect that both excited and frightened her.
Today her hair was drawn back into a single thick braid that reached down her back to where she could almost sit on it. It was as thick as a doubled rope and she swung it around behind her shoulders as she began to climb the rocky outcropping that had been her destination when she snuck away from the home. She liked to come here when she could get away without being seen. It allowed her to look over the countryside, to be outdoors in the sunshine, and to be alone.
To her mind, being alone was the most valuable of commodities, something for which she would, and had traded on the open market. A book and an hour to read in peace was worth doing the dinner dish cleanup shift that belonged to her loud and overly rambunctious roommate.
She hadn’t traded anything today. She had simply left when the opportunity presented itself. They had all been cooped up indoors for two days because of the rain. When the rain ended this morning, everyone went out into the sunshine. She just went out a little further than most, she grinned.
Reaching her own personal perch at the top of the hill, she scanned the familiar countryside. She had never shared this place with anyone, not even told anyone. She knew if the nuns found out, they’d make her stop coming here. She had occasionally seen travelers making their way slowly across the grasslands. She’d seen families in covered wagons and buckboards. There were no roads in this area, but there was a trail from the east that cut across and headed toward Everafter.
Today, she saw a lone horse, grazing in the open near a small stand of trees. It was saddled, and she could see no rider nearby. That was very odd, and warranted investigation. She decided to be cautious, like Penelope in her favorite book series. Penelope would watch and wait before making a move, and so shall Isabelle Blue Mellon.
Isabelle pushed her round glasses back up her freckled nose, and settled in to watch. She crossed her legs Indian-style, set her elbows on the knees of her denim overalls, and rested her chin in her hands. She decided she’d give it a half hour. If no rider appeared in that time, she’d go down and see the horse up close. The prospect of finding a horse, and keeping it, secretly of course, was just the kind of adventure that Isabelle always dreamed about.
Barely a half hour later, Isabelle found herself skipping lightly down the hill with the skill and grace of a gazelle. Her natural athleticism and fearlessness made her haphazard in her descent, but nevertheless, she reached the bottom unscathed and continued running across the grasslands without missing a step.
As she neared the horse, it raised its head and gazed at her curiously without stopping its chewing. She slowed her steps and approached it cautiously, not out of fear for herself, but fear that the horse would turn tail and run, depriving her of her adventure.
The horse seemed as calm and nerveless as one who had twelve-year-old girls running up to it on a daily basis. She reached out and took its bridle and smoothed a small hand down its nose and along its neck. She couldn’t reach its ears, but had she been able to, she would have scratched behind them like she did for Tex, the old dog who lived at the orphanage, belonging to all of them, and belonging to no one.
As she slowly walked around the large horse, she scanned the area for any sign of its owner, half hoping that she would not find him. As she neared the horse’s tail, he turned and put his nose over her shoulder. She laughed and reached up and stroked his nose.
“Oh you are a sweetheart, aren’t you!” She hugged his nose and continued her vigorous petting, almost able to hug his neck, but not quite.
Suddenly the horse’s head shot up and his ears pricked forward. He turned and looked toward the stand of trees about twenty yards away. Without a backward glance, he started walking slowly, but resolutely toward the trees. Isabelle took hold of his trailing reins and walked beside him.
As they neared the deep shade under the trees, Isabelle cleared her throat and nervously called, “Is anyone in there?”
She prayed silently for no answer, and she considered her prayer answered when she got none. The two continued into the trees, the horse having to duck his head under low branches, heavy with the recent rains. Isabelle walked pressed against his side.
Beneath the canopy of trees was cold, and wet, and dark after coming in from the bright sunlight. Isabelle let her eyes adjust and looked around. The horse had his own ideas about where he was going, and he moved further into the stand, taking them both around a particularly large and old specimen. Once around that, there was a small clearing where sunlight dappled the ground.
She saw him the minute she rounded the large oak. He was lying on the ground under a smaller, but no less impressive tree about ten feet away. He was lying on his side with his back against the exposed gnarled roots. He had moaned, and that’s what brought the horse. He moaned again, and the horse moved closer, Isabelle with him.
She cautiously moved away from the warmth of the horse beside her, and approached the man as quietly as she could. He looked to be sleeping. Who would be sleeping out here, and all wet, too? He was wet; she could see that. He was soaked, and as she drew closer she could see that he was shivering violently. He lay on ground that had become mud with the storms last night. He must be soaked to the skin and frozen to the bone.
Her innate concern, natural kindness and rampant curiosity overrode her fear and she hurried to the man’s side, stooping down and putting a hand on his shoulder. He was cold to the touch and she could see that his lips had a bluish tint. She rolled him over onto his back. “Mister?” She touched his face with a small, shaking hand. “Mister? Can you hear me?”
He was handsome; she could see that. She smiled to herself at the notion that it would be the first thing she would notice. He had dark, wavy hair and very dark, and very long eyelashes, which were at that very moment, struggling to open.
l bet they’re blueshe thought an instant before the stranger proved her right and she smiled. “Hey,” she said simply. Sister August always said she was a bold one. Never one to be shy and never one to keep her nose out of everyone else’s business.
He tried to speak, but no noise came out, and a moment later, he began coughing violently. He rose up with the force of his coughs, and when the spasms had subsided, he lay heavily back down.
“My name is Isabelle Blue Mellon. What’s yours?”
The stranger looked at her intently as if he were struggling to focus on her face. He licked his lips, which were dry, but made no attempt to speak.
“Would you like some water?” Isabelle said. Not waiting for an answer she stood up quickly and stepped over to where the horse was waiting patiently. She had to jump to reach the saddle horn where the canteen was looped by its leather strap. After three tries, she managed to get the canteen down and brought it back over to the man. She lifted his head and put it on her leg, and then removed the cap and held the canteen to his lips.
The stranger raised a hand and tipped the canteen until the water flowed into his mouth and down his chin. He gulped several large swallows, and then lowered the canteen and gasped for air.
As his breathing slowed, Isabelle could see that he was studying her, perhaps trying to focus. He squinted and blinked several times and reached his hand up to rub his eyes. Finally, he spoke. “Name’s Jess.” It was barely a whisper and he sounded to Isabelle like he had gravel in his throat.
“Jess,” she repeated softly and thoughtfully. She liked it. He would have a strong and plain name. If it had been Horace, she would have had to change it right away. She smiled at him. “That’s a good name, Jess. I like it. Why’re you out here by yourself?”
Jess rose up on one elbow. “I could ask you the same question.”
She looked around. She wasn’t expecting that. “Um, I’m just exploring. I live just over there.” She pointed to a vague area “out there” and hoped he would drop it. She decided it best to change the subject. “You’re sick, aren’t you? How long you been here?”
Jess nodded his head and swallowed hard. “I came yesterday just as that storm hit. I guess I been here. . . “ Just saying that much made him short of breath. He coughed a few more times and then lay back down on the ground and breathed hard. “I don’t feel so good.”
“You an outlaw?”
Jess laughed, which brought on more coughing. “No. Are you?” he rasped.
Isabelle laughed too. He was unexpected, he was funny, and he was the prettiest thing in pants she’d ever seen. “No, although Sister Paul sometimes says I should be locked up.”
He kept his eyes closed, but smiled. “Sister Paul?”
“One of the nuns at the home where I live.”
“You an orphan?”
Isabelle pulled her braid around front and began fiddling with it which was her habit when she was flustered or worried. Isabelle knew she was many things: a romantic silly girl for one, vain about her hair for another, but she was also practical and sensible. She quickly decided that the practical and sensible thing to do was to tell this man the truth and get him some help. That’s what Penelope Poindexter would do.
“Yes. The home is just over that next rise.”
He opened his eyes and was watching her. She felt like he was looking through her. He’d know the truth anyway, she figured. He reached out and took her braid from her hand and held it in his own.
“Pretty hair. My ma’s was that color.” He coughed hard. “But her’s wasn’t that long. ‘Least I don’t think so. She always wore it up.” He dropped the braid and his face went slack, his hand dropping into Isabelle’s lap.
“Jess? You okay?” She picked up his hand, held it tightly in hers and stroked it.
He nodded but didn’t speak. He was still with her. That was all the information he could muster just then.
She sighed and sat back on her heels, continuing to hold his hand. After a minute she spoke again. “Well, I reckon I need to get you out of here. Reckon you can get on your horse?”
Jess didn’t nod or answer. She leaned close to his face. Hearing his breathing, she sighed with relief and closed her eyes. She lowered her ear to his chest like she’d seen Sister Michael do, and listened to the air move in and out of his lungs. There were a lot of noises in there that she didn’t reckon should be there.
Chapter 14
They sat in the hotel restaurant eating breakfast. Johnny was hurrying, shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth like he was late for an appointment. Between bites he blurted out, “You shouldn’t’ve let me sleep so late.” He shot his brother an accusing stare.
Scott tossed down his napkin and leaned back in his chair. “Me? Let you? I did everything but pour cold water on you to get you up. You threatened me with violence!”
Johnny stopped eating momentarily. “I did not!”
“Did too!” Scott replied petulantly. “I distinctly heard the word murder somewhere in the babbling.”
“Babbling? Now you’re just making that up!”
“Little brother, you were letting me know in no uncertain terms that you wanted to be left alone, and I was not in any mood to argue.” Scott rubbed his jaw painfully and looked morosely at his soft scrambled eggs and oatmeal.
Pearl had intercepted the two of them as they came into the lobby and inquired solicitously about Scott’s tooth. He insisted that it was much improved, no doubt a result of Obediah’s fine soup and tea, but Pearl was skeptical. She saw, and felt the swelling that was still there. As she touched his cheek, Scott couldn’t help but wince, giving Pearl all the proof she needed.
While her attention was turned to Scott, Johnny had the opportunity to look over Pearl’s latest couture and coiffure. She was regaled in flowing green satin brocade with gold and red piping along the neck and sleeves. Large gold earrings dripped from her ears and almost brushed her shoulders. She had an ornate gold and satin rope belt around her ample waist that had a tail hanging almost to the floor with a large tassel inches from it.
If it were possible, she seemed to have on even more jewelry today than she had yesterday. Johnny couldn’t help but think she looked like a large Christmas tree. He was smothering a smile when she suddenly turned and focused her elaborately made-up eyes on him. She was saying something which he missed entirely, trying as he was not to lose control.
She hustled the two of them into the dining room, saw them ensconced in the plum seating area by the picture window, and then bustled off to the kitchen to oversee the special soft breakfast that would be prepared for Scott.
When the doting waiter came to take Johnny’s order, he only wanted coffee and toast. Five minutes later a veritable epicurean feast was laid in front of him. One large plate, and several smaller ones were heavily laden with eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, flapjacks, hash browns and what Scott had to explain to him were grits. There were bowls of fruits and jellies and butters of every description. Johnny glanced furtively around the room to see if any of the other patrons had noticed.
They had.
“Well, you did get your toast and coffee,” Scott commented wryly. Johnny shot him daggers.
Determined to ignore the stares, Johnny dug in. He was not really very hungry, but wanted to prevent Pearl from coming over and asking why he wasn’t eating. Something about her made him loath to disappoint her. He did slow down though. He decided he’d better or he’d get too full too fast and leave too much food. After the waiter had left after filling his coffee cup yet another time, he lowered his head and spoke to Scott. “Can you go to see the lady dentist by yourself?”
Scott looked mildly offended. “I am an adult, little brother.” Then he looked suspiciously at his brother. “What are you gonna do?”
Johnny bit off a piece of well-done bacon. “I’m gonna see if I can get hired by this Bumgarner fella,” he said through a grin as he chewed.
“Brubaker,” Scott corrected.
“Whatever.”
“Don’t you think we should get back to Lancer and talk to Murdoch about this?”
“Sure I do,” Johnny nodded agreeably. “That’s what you’re gonna do,” he said continuing to nod and chew. Seeing his brother’s scowl, he continued. “Look, Scott, Virgil McCoy is in town. He knows me. Well, he knows Johnny Madrid, and as far as he knows, Johnny Madrid does not have a brother.”
Taking a breath and a sip of coffee, he continued, “It’s the perfect set up. No one here knows Johnny Lancer and this way I can get on the inside and find out what’s going on.”
Scott interrupted. “Ah, ah, ah, little brother. You are mistaken about that.”
Johnny looked at him, puzzled.
Scott continued. “You introduced us to Kate yesterday as Johnny and Scott Lancer,” he pointed out.
Johnny looked thoughtful. “Mmmm hmmm.” He thought for a minute. “You’re right, I did. Well, there’s no reason for her to be involved in this. We won’t even see her again after today. Unless Virgil gets a toothache and they happen to start talking about their mutual acquaintances…”
Scott held up a restraining hand. “Alright, alright, I see your point.”
Johnny settled back in his chair, taking a deep breath.
Scott continued to look skeptical. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” He took a deep breath. “Look we’re sitting here in public together. It’s not a secret that we checked in together. What’s he gonna think if he knows that?”
Johnny shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll just tell him you’re my cousin and we met here on family business.” He leaned forward and affected a menacing scowl. “I can make him believe it.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Scott couldn’t help the grin that provoked. “I’m not sure you’re approaching this with the seriousness the situation requires.”
“Sure I am. I’m just not gonna let it spoil a perfectly good breakfast.”
“You’re feeling mighty chipper this morning. I think sleeping late agrees with you.”
Johnny smiled sheepishly.
“You love this stuff, don’t you,” Scott said, a statement, not a question.
Johnny grabbed his hat from the chair next to him, stood up and settled it on his head. “Sign for the check, will ya? I’m gonna go see a man about a job.”
Scott smiled resignedly. “Alright, but you meet me back here at noon.”
Johnny gave him a non-committal nod and started to move off.
“I mean it, Johhny! If you’re not back here at noon, I’m comin’ looking for you.”
Pearl came toward Johnny and blocked his egress through the tables. “You off, handsome? Did you have enough to eat?”
Johnny removed his hat and held it in both hands. “Yes, ma’am and it was delicious. I’ve got some business to take care of. I’ll leave Scott here in your capable hands.” Without giving her a chance to answer, he quickly leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on her fleshy cheek, replaced his hat on his dark head and hurried out.
Pearl’s face flushed deeply. Flustered, she watched him move smoothly among the sea of tables and chairs and leave the hotel through the front door. She shook her head; her earrings tinkled pleasantly, a wide smile made her face glow. She turned to Scott and sat in the chair that Johnny had vacated. “He’s a four-square charmer, ain’t he?”
Scott examined her closely. She was blushing like a school- girl under her makeup. “Yes, ma’am. More than what’s good for him.” Scott smiled affectionately.
Pearl batted her large hand, her bracelets rattled noisily. “Aw, sweetie, you don’t need to ma’am me. I’m just an old hillbilly from Kentucky. I know I look a sight, but I don’t put on airs about being no lady.”
Scott sipped his coffee appreciatively. The warmth felt good on his sore gums. “Kentucky? What brought you here?”
“My first husband, Henry. He was a banker. Oh, he didn’t own one, ‘er nothin’. Well, not until later. He was a good man. One o’ the most romantic souls you’d ever want to meet. Why, he’s the one that gave this town its name.”
“Everafter? Really?”
Pearl nodded. “Yup. As in happily everafter…”
“But, shouldn’t that be two words?”
“Well, sweetie, my Henry weren’t no scholar. He was a genius with money and numbers, but could barely spell his own name. The folks around here didn’t know, or just didn’t care.”
“I see,” Scott nodded, smiling. He’d often wondered.
Pearl’s expression saddened. “He died way too young.”
“I’m sorry, “ Scott said honestly. There were a few moments of silence as they both paid silent respect to Henry. Scott spoke next, breaking the awkward silence. “You said first husband?”
Pearl’s face immediately brightened, the momentary bereavement finished. “I sure did, sweetie. Henry was only the first. After that came Claude. He was a railroad man. He was a skunk in business and he died young, too. Killed by an employee he fired and rooked out of his pension.” It was apparent that there would be no bereavement pause for poor Claude.
“Then there was my dear Angus; a Scotsman and a gentleman.” She swept a brocaded arm to indicate the room. “He left me all this.”
Scott followed the sweep of her arm with his eyes. “I’m impressed.”
“Angus was an impressive man; big and boisterous. Had a full head of red hair and a full beard that covered everything but his twinkling blue eyes and his turned up nose.” Pearl’s eyes teared up and she pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. Scott was concerned that her false eyelashes would begin to peel off.
Scott looked at her with sympathy. “I didn’t mean to upset you by asking. . .”
Pearl put a hand over Scott’s where it rested on the table and patted it. “Don’t you worry a thing about that, sweetie. I love talking about my honeys. They’re all still right here.” She placed a meaty fist over where Scott supposed her heart beat beneath her ample bosom.
Curiosity had a hold on Scott and he had to find out more. “So Angus was your last?”
“Last?” Pearl asked, surprised. “My heavens, no, sweetie!” She laughed heartily. After my dear Angus died of that horrible consumption, I found my Johnny.” She thought for a moment and then nodded once. “Yup, he was the last. Well, until the next one. . .” She winked.
“Johnny?” Scott was startled, his eyes flickering to the door through which his brother had departed minutes before. He turned back to Pearl with a new understanding. This could explain a lot.
Pearl’s eyes took on a far away look; the look of one lost in the past and awash in pleasant memories. Scott knew by the beatific look on Pearl’s features, that Johnny was the love of her life; the one that held that big heart of hers in his hands. Wherever he was. Scott was almost afraid to ask, but couldn’t resist.
“What happened to Johnny?”
Pearl sniffed and dabbed her eyes again. “He had to leave, sweetie. He was too good for this world.” She shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks.
After a moment, Pearl got a hold on her emotions and continued. “My Johnny was part Basque. That’s Spanish, sweetie and he was a blue-eyed rogue with a smile that could make a woman melt to the ground.”
After a moment of reflection, Pearl apparently had a revelation. “Why, I do believe that your brother reminds me just a little bit of my Johnny,” she said unnecessarily.
A small, ironic smile flitted across Scott’s lips. He quickly quashed it so Pearl wouldn’t see.
“Really? In what way?” he asked innocently.
Pearl blushed again. This woman wore her emotions on her face, not obscured one whit by her makeup. “The same dark hair and blue eyes, the same easy smile and easier charm. Yes, I do believe I may be right about that,” she said matter-of-factly.
Wishing to change the subject and with a heartfelt desire to make Pearl feel better, Scott asked, “Do you have children?”
Pearl sadly shook her head, “No, sweetie, I was never blessed that way.”
Scott’s heart sank. He’d asked the wrong question.
Sensing his distress, Pearl reassured him. “Now don’t you go feeling sorry for me, sweetie. I’ve loved and been loved by three good men and one medium-good one,” she smiled wryly. “I’ve had more blessings and fortune in this life than any one woman has the right to expect.” Her mood returned to her usual joviality. “Hell, son, I’m richer’n God, I have a town full of good friends, I have a business that I love, my employees are my family and my guests are my children.”
She rose from her chair and swept her voluminous skirt behind her. “No, dearie, don’t you worry a thing about me. Now you come see me if you need anything, you hear?” She reached down and laid a warm affectionate hand on Scott’s cheek. “Thank you, sweetie.”
Scott looked up at her puzzled. “For?”
“For indulging a silly old woman.” With that, she swept away and mingled with the other diners in the room as Scott smiled affectionately after her and returned to his coffee.
Chapter 15
Jess’ first awareness came with a vague feeling of drowning. He felt a weight in his chest and he couldn’t take a deep breath. He was hot, uncomfortable, and all of that combined to bring on a sense of panic. He struggled to open his eyes, but even though he thought they were open, he could see only blackness. After blinking a few times, the blackness turned to gray and he could make out the faint outlines of rough-cut bricks. The air smelled moist and heavy.
He could tell he was lying on a bed, his head turned toward the brick wall he had seen. He slowly turned his head and as he did so, the room lightened to a pale yellow glow. There was an oil lamp on a small table to his right and an open door through which light from a hallway spilled.
The room was not large and it was sparsely furnished with a wooden armoire, a dresser and the little table in addition to the bed on which he lay and a chair sitting beside it. All four walls were large, roughly hewn brickwork and the door was large, heavy, thick wood with iron bands spanning its width and an opening covered with thin iron bars near the top. The place looked like a cell, or could have once been a cell.
The effort of turning his head and scanning the room tired him, he was aware of struggling to breathe and he instinctively tried to rise up.
As he struggled to get his elbows under him, a figure draped in black robes floated into the room. Looking up, it took him a moment to recognize the habit of a nun. She was dressed from head to toe in black, with white around her face, and a gold chain around her waist with a large cross hanging from it.
“Well, I see you waited until I stepped out for just a minute to join us again!” she said with mock exasperation. “Here, let me help you.” She quickly moved to Jess’ side and helped him rise while she pushed the pillows under his shoulders to prop him up. “There, that’s better,” she said finally.
Jess breathed hard, a rattle in his chest obvious even to his own ears. The movement had caused a sharp pain in his back and his vision faded momentarily. He sagged back and worked at trying to get his breathing under control.
“I’m Sister Michael, and you’re Jess, I understand.” As she spoke, she reached to a porcelain basin on the table and wrung out a wet rag. She gently wiped the cool cloth over Jess’ forehead, face, neck and chest. “You were very fortunate that our Isabelle found you. Of course she was somewhere that she ought not have been, but nevertheless, God sometimes works through mysterious ways, including naughty little girls.” She stopped talking and met Jess’ eyes. He hadn’t spoken yet. Smiling, she continued. “Don’t worry about Isabelle. She didn’t get in trouble. We’re just so glad that she was not hurt and that she found you, who so desperately needed our help…”
Jess raised a hand against the onslaught of words. “How…”
“How long have you been here?”
Jess nodded almost imperceptibly.
“You’ve been here almost five days. You’ve been very sick. Doctor Levy says that you have pneumonia. Now, enough of this, you must eat something now that you’re awake. I’ll go get some broth from the kitchen and be right back. Now don’t you go anywhere.” She gave him a big smile and floated out toward the hallway.
She was young, very pretty, what he could see of her, and obviously an enthusiastic nurse. His breathing had slowed, but he still found it hard to breathe. He wasn’t used to having to work at it. Sitting up had helped, but he was also exhausted and his back and shoulders hurt.
He lay back heavily against the pillows and waited with his eyes closed, absorbing the silence that engulfed him when the chattering nun left. After a few minutes, Sister Michael came back into the room with a bowl of broth and two pillows under her arm. She set the bowl on the table and put a pillow under each of Jess’ upper arms to support them. He felt a lessening of the pressure in his chest and nodded his thanks.
He was full of questions, but with no energy to ask them. He also realized for the first time that he was naked. The covers were pulled up to his waist. He was normally rather shy around women when it came to nakedness, but at the moment, he was too tired to care.
Sister Michael hitched her skirts and sat on the edge of the bed where Jess lay. He weakly grabbed at the blanket to keep it from slipping. She held the bowl over his chest and spoon-fed him the salty broth. He sipped it and let it run down his raw scratchy throat. After a few minutes, he raised his hand for her to stop. He was short of breath again and needed to rest. His eyes slipped closed and then promptly popped open again when a new presence entered the room.
“Is he awake?” Isabelle came boldly into the room without knocking and stood behind Sister Michael. “He is awake! Jess, I’m so glad! How are you feeling, I’ve been so worried.”
Sister Michael turned to her and put a finger to her lips. “Isabelle! Don’t overwhelm him with questions! He’s still very sick. And what are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night!”
Jess watched the exchange between the two and smiled weakly. He was glad to see his friend Isabelle again. He had vague memories of her finding him. She had a long red braid.
He raised his hand to her and gestured her to come closer and whispered, “C’mere.”
Isabelle glanced at Sister Michael and then moved over closer to Jess without waiting for permission. He reached out and took her hand, and then let it go and took her braid. He swallowed hard before speaking. The effort to speak was apparent and Isabelle’s heart broke for him. “Thank you,” he rasped.
Isabelle smiled and tears pooled in her blue eyes. She bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll come back and see you in the morning. I’ll read to you and tell you all about it.” He knew what she meant by it. What happened to him the last five days. He couldn’t remember a thing, but had no energy to ask about it.
He released her braid and she turned to leave, knowing that she wouldn’t be allowed to stay with him. She decided to concede first, and perhaps garner some privileges later. She stopped when she reached the door. “I’m glad you’re better,” she said quietly. He nodded, she smiled and then left.
Sister Michael smiled as she watched Isabelle go, and then turned back to her patient. She sat again on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on his arm. “She’s been so worried about you. She would have been in here around the clock if we’d let her. Oh, and you can rest assured that your horse is being looked after, probably better than he ever has before. Isabelle has taken command of the care of him, marshaling all the children into action. I think your horse will soon be spoiled rotten.” She giggled, a musical sound that was very pleasing to the ears. Jess smiled even as his eyes slowly closed.
“I’m keeping you awake when you should be sleeping. You just go right to sleep and I’ll be here if you need anything. Anything at all, don’t you even think about not asking.”
She rose from the bed and settled into the chair next to it, picked up her bible and her rosary and began to read by the lamplight. Jess was already asleep, oblivious to her quiet prayers.
