Spring Creek Bride Page 14

  Before he could nod, someone pounded on the downstairs door. Dinah disappeared from view and Mick did his best to stand. He wanted to know what had happened. And how he could be of service.

  Somehow he managed to make it from the bed to the hallway. He could hear the goings-on downstairs, homing in on the voice of one of the railroad men, asking for Dinah’s help. He heard her frantic footsteps as she raced back up the stairs.

  She met him, breathless, with the news. “It was Nellie. They’re bringing her here because Doc Klein doesn’t have room at his place. We’ll put her in my room so I’ll be close by.”

  “Of course. What can I do?”

  “I’m not sure what we will need. The doctor will tell us. In the meantime, the only thing I can think to ask you to do is pray.”

  Pray? He hardly knew where to start, but with a nod of his head agreed to somehow try.

  Minutes later, a couple of the men eased their way up the stairs with Nellie, pale and limp, in their arms. Blood oozed from her left shoulder, and he tried to assess where she’d been struck. Hopefully not close enough to the neck to be life-threatening. Still, one could never tell with gunshot wounds.

  Mick stood in the doorway of Dinah’s room as they laid Nellie in the four-poster bed. Every few seconds she would cry out and reach for her shoulder, then she would drift out of consciousness again. Dinah worked feverishly to clean the wound.

  Thankfully, Doc Klein arrived in short order, and put Dinah to work boiling water and preparing bandages. Mick sat at the kitchen table, wishing for something, anything to do. He tried to mutter a prayer, but had little to go by. He managed a choppy sentence or two then turned his attentions back to the fellows who’d brought Nellie in. Had these men been the ones who’d caused his injuries? His blood boiled at the very idea. Still, he had to keep his head on straight if he wanted to be any good to Nellie.

  The sheriff arrived, full of questions. “Do you know how this happened?” he asked. “Did either of you see anything firsthand?”

  “Carl Walken had one too many,” one of the fellows said. “Got all riled up about something or another, and pulled his gun on Eugene Weimer.”

  Weimer? Sophie’s older brother?

  “I don’t think Carl meant to hurt anyone at first,” the other man explained. “He got to bragging about something. Started out as a joke, I think. But the next thing I knew, his gun was pointed straight at Eugene, and shots were fired.”

  The sheriff pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through thinning hair. “Don’t look like he’s a very good shot.”

  The man shook his head. “The bullet flew right past him and hit Nellie. She was up on the stage, dancing her heart out.”

  Mick felt sick as he listened to the story. Sick for Nellie, and sick for Carl and Eugene, who would sober up soon enough and realize the harm their drunken recklessness had caused.

  And in the pit of his stomach, Mick also felt sick about the fact that this whole thing could have just as easily happened at The Lucky Penny if he’d carried through with his plans to rebuild.

  As the men went their separate ways and the doctor tended to Nellie, Mick finally found the words to offer up that prayer he’d promised Dinah. He said the only thing that seemed to make sense: “God, please help that poor girl.” It was his best attempt at reasoning with the Almighty. Surely, with both his leg and his heart in such a torn-up state, the Lord would understand.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ida drew near Nellie’s bedside with a heavy heart. She knew what Doc Klein had said, of course—that the wounds weren’t life-threatening. Still, as she knelt next to Nellie’s bed, she prayed for more than just her physical recovery; she prayed for her very soul.

  Ida managed to interject a few words on Carl’s behalf, as well. And Eugene’s. Her mind still reeled at the fact that Eugene Weimer had been in The Golden Spike in the first place. Surely the news must have brought pain to everyone in the Weimer household. Sophie hadn’t been by the mercantile this morning, though she usually came to town in the wagon with her mother on Saturday mornings to shop. No, likely today would be spent at home, the whole family coming to terms with what had happened.

  Nellie came awake and squinted at the sunlight that peeked in the window.

  Ida stood and smoothed back Nellie’s hair. “Good morning.”

  “Ida?” Nellie attempted to sit up, but could not.

  “Just rest easy.”

  Nellie leaned back against the pillows, her face still quite pale from the blood loss. “Wh-what happened?” she whispered. “How did I get here?”

  “You don’t remember?” When Nellie shook her head, Ida explained. “There was a shooting at the saloon last night, and a stray bullet hit you.”

  Nellie touched her shoulder and cried out. “Is it bad?” she whispered.

  “I truly believe the Lord protected you.” Ida took a seat on the edge of the bed and reached for Nellie’s hand. “Doc Klein said the bullet came within inches of hitting a major artery in your neck.”

  Nellie’s eyes grew wide.

  “The doctor had a doozy of a time getting it out, but you’re all patched up now, and he says you should be fine within days. But you have to take it easy. And we have to keep it clean, to guard against infection.”

  Again, Nellie tried to sit up, a frantic look in her eyes. “I have to get well quick. I need to get back to work. My mama—”

  “Don’t fret over anything right now,” Ida said. “Please. And if your mother needs financial help, I will speak to Reverend Langford. Likely the folks at the church will want to do what they can to assist you.”

  “Why would the church folks do anything for a girl like me?” Nellie’s eyes filled with tears. “Ain’t it true what you said before? Don’t they think I’m a sinner?”

  “I’m sorry I ever said that, Nellie. Sometimes my mouth gets me in trouble. Truth is, the church folks are ready to help anyone in need, whether they know you or not. The purpose of the church is to care for the broken and wounded,” Ida explained.

  “I do feel broken.” Nellie reached for her shoulder once again. “Chuck won’t wait long. He’ll put another girl in my place. I know he will. So I hope I heal up right quick.”

  Ida gave Nellie’s hand a tender squeeze. “If I had my druthers, I’d keep you from ever going back to work in that saloon. I’d find you a different job, something with less risk involved.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “We will see what the Lord does. In the meantime, you just rest. Please. And let me know when you’re hungry. Myrtle Mae came by with some of that famous pot roast of hers.”

  “Mmm.” Nellie nodded. “Maybe after I’ve napped a while.” Her eyes fluttered closed, and Ida turned to leave the room.

  As she entered the hallway, she caught a glimpse of Mick Bradley’s felt hat on the stand in the corner. Had it really only been last night they’d all shared a meal together? And had he really, as Dinah said, worked through the night to help out?

  Surely he must be exhausted today.

  Well, she’d have to stop by for a chat to see for herself.

  Mick eased his weight down into a chair at the kitchen table and turned as Ida entered the room.

  “There you are.” She gave him a broad smile. A good sign. A very good sign.

  “Did you need something?”

  She pulled up a chair and took a seat across the table from him. “No, not really. I just wanted to thank you for looking after Dinah last night. And Nellie, of course. From what I hear, they both had a rough time of it, and having you here to help meant the world to my aunt.”

  Mick didn’t even try to hide the grin. “You know,” he said, “I still can’t get used to the fact that she’s your aunt. Dinah can’t be more than, what…say, seven or eight years older than you?”

  Ida nodded. “Yes. My grandmother gave birth to Dinah in her later years. An unexpected blessing—that’s what folks around these parts call a late-in-life baby. Papa was an onl
y child until then. My grandmother truly thought she would never be able to have more children.” A wistful look came into Ida’s eyes.

  “Have I brought up a tender subject?” he asked.

  “I never knew my grandmother. She passed away giving birth to Dinah. Papa was a grown man by then, and he and Grandpa Max raised the baby by themselves, at least for a time.” Looking up at him with a smile, she added, “Can you imagine? Two rough-edged German men raising a little girl? Of course, my papa up and married my mama when Dinah was about five or so, and from what I hear Mama fell in love with her. Took the little tomboy under her wing.”

  “It’s hard to imagine Dinah was ever a tomboy.” Mick laughed as he thought about the prim and proper Dinah climbing trees and playing with frogs.

  “From what I hear, she was quite a handful. But my mama raised her to be a right fine lady.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking—”

  “What happened to Mama?” Ida sighed and sadness registered in her countenance. “She passed away about seven years ago. Yellow fever. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her.”

  “I’m so sorry. I lost both of my parents some years ago.” He reached out and took her hand. Fortunately, she did not pull away. Mick proceeded to tell her his story—how his parents had lost their lives together—and she listened with sympathy. They sat together for a few seconds, hand in hand, until they heard Dinah’s footsteps in the stairway. At once, Ida pulled away.

  Dinah entered the kitchen, took one look at Ida’s flushed cheeks and proceeded to ask if something had happened to Nellie to warrant concern.

  “Everything is fine.” Ida’s gaze shifted out the window. “We were just visiting.” She looked at her aunt with a smile. “I was telling Mick what a rough-and-tumble little girl you were.”

  “You were not.”

  “I was.” Ida grinned and for the first time Mick noticed tiny dimples in her cheeks.

  Dinah took to fanning herself as she turned to Mick. “Well, don’t believe everything you hear. Besides, there are any number of stories I could tell about Ida as a youngster, if you’re of a mind to hear them. Though I must warn you some of them are sure to embarrass her.”

  Ida rose from the table, her cheeks now crimson. “Well, there’s no time for stories now. I’m sure the shop is full of customers.”

  “Hardly. Looks like most folks are staying home this morning after hearing what happened at Brewster’s place. People are more afraid to bring their children into town on the weekends now. I don’t know what’s going to happen to the mercantile if these saloons stay in business.” She looked at Mick and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. If I’ve learned anything over the past twenty-four hours, it’s that Spring Creek has plenty of activity for the railroad men without another gambling hall going up.”

  “So you’ve laid the idea to rest altogether?” Ida looked at him, her eyes bright with excitement.

  “I don’t know what the future holds.” He eased his way out of the chair. “But I don’t ever want to see another night like the one we just spent.”

  He had to face the facts. Looking at these two civilized young women—realizing the challenges they now faced in their once-pristine little town—he suddenly wanted nothing more than to offer them his protection. And, as he looked into Ida’s blue eyes, still sparkling at his news, he was tempted to sweep her into his arms, to assure her all would end well, as long as she stuck by him.

  The words from Dinah’s Bible ran through his mind once more: In the beginning…

  Sitting here with these two women, Mick Bradley felt as if he might just get his first-ever shot at that. A new beginning.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The following Monday afternoon the postman came through town with the mail delivery. Ida spent much of her time at the mercantile sorting through it all. She bundled up stack after stack, much of it for the locals, but quite a bit for The Harvey House, as well.

  She tried to remain focused on the task at hand, but found it difficult. With so little sleep the night before, she could barely keep her eyes open, let alone get her work done. And the feelings that arose every time she thought about Mick didn’t help, either.

  Lord, I ask you to guide me every step of the way. And, Father, please reveal Yourself to Mick. May he come to know You.

  Dinah came down the stairs moments later with a smile on her face. “You will never guess what I did,” she whispered.

  After waiting on a customer, Ida turned to respond. “What?”

  “I invited Mick to the Fourth of July picnic at the church.”

  “Oh, Dinah, I don’t know—”

  “Isn’t that the most perfect idea?” Dinah said with a grin. “We’ve been trying to get him through the doors of the church all along, and if he comes with us to the picnic this Sunday, he will have to attend the service first.”

  “Well, yes. But I’m not sure this is the best timing for that.” Ida chose her words carefully. “After all, he can scarcely get up and down the stairs. How will he make it all the way to the church? It’s a good half mile from here.”

  “I need to take the wagon this Sunday anyway,” Dinah explained. “Reverend Langford and several of the men are coming by the store early in the morning to load up barrels and food. And I could never make it on foot with the pies I’m baking.”

  “Still—”

  “Can’t you see how the Lord has arranged this?” Dinah’s eyes flashed with excitement. “The men can help him down the stairs and onto the wagon. Reverend Langford thinks it’s a wonderful idea, and I am inclined to agree, even though I did think of it myself. Now, if only I could figure out a way to get Nellie to agree to come, too. Wouldn’t that be a miracle!”

  “Of biblical proportions,” Ida agreed. Somehow, she could scarcely imagine the saloon girl seated in a pew with a hymnal in hand. Then again, imagining Mick there was nearly as difficult.

  “Her shoulder is healing nicely, and she should be able to travel by Sunday.” Dinah shrugged. “I will pray about it and see what the Lord does.”

  “And I will add my prayers to yours,” Ida said.

  “In the meantime, I’ve come up with another idea. One I think will help Nellie along on her journey.”

  “Goodness, Dinah, you are full of ideas this afternoon!”

  “Her mother lives alone in Houston and suffers with health problems.”

  “Yes, so I’ve heard.”

  “I think it would be a wonderful idea to bring her here, to Spring Creek. That way she and Nellie can be together. And I’ve spoken with Doc Klein. He will be able to tend to Mrs. DeVries’s needs as well as any of the doctors in the big city.”

  “But how does Nellie feel about this?” Ida asked. “Does she want her mother to know what she does for a living?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t mentioned any of this to her yet. But I have laid aside a bit of money for Nellie’s mother to travel, if she likes the idea. And they can both stay on here with me. Once Mick is fully healed, I will have plenty of room upstairs. And if I have my way…”

  “What?”

  “Well, if we could afford it, I would hire Nellie to help around the shop. She’s quite good with the customers, and a hard worker at that.”

  Ida pondered her aunt’s generosity. Oh, if only she could be as good and kind. How did a person get to be so good?

  A noise in the stairway distracted them, and Ida looked up, startled to see Mick hobbling down the steps on his crutches.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Ida and Dinah spoke in unison.

  Ida took several steps in Mick’s direction, then slipped an arm around his waist and helped him maneuver the bottom two steps.

  His expression changed when she touched him. His look of pain quickly shifted to a look of contentment. She did her best to focus on helping him, and deliberately avoided his eyes. “I can’t believe you actually tried to come down those stairs on cr
utches. You might’ve fallen.”

  “Sorry, but I had to get out of that room,” he explained. “I couldn’t take it anymore.” He looked around the store, smiling when he saw several of the local men playing dominoes. “Thought maybe I’d find a game going down here. Looks like I was right.”

  She helped him over to a chair where he joined in a friendly game with some of the others. Ida returned to her work, but kept a watchful eye on Mick. She listened as laughter rang out across the room when Mick won his first game. Laughter truly was the better medicine.

  Later, when the crowd thinned and Dinah had gone upstairs to tend to Nellie, Ida offered Mick a cup of coffee, which he accepted with a smile.

  He gestured to an empty chair. “Sit for a minute.”

  Ida glanced around the store. “All right, just for a minute.”

  “Believe it or not, I was reading Exodus last night in that Bible Dinah left me.” Mick smiled at the look on Ida’s face. “Seemed like one minute Pharaoh wanted Moses to stay put. The next, he was chasing him out of town. The whole thing reminded me of, well, myself. My time in Texas. One minute I want to stay, the next I’m ready to go. I can’t help but wonder if Spring Creek is my Egypt.” He reached out and took her hand. With a twinkle in his eye, he added, “Or maybe it’s the Promised Land.”

  Ida held back a chuckle. So Mick had given thought to what he’d read. The Lord appeared to be moving in his life, drawing him in, wooing him.

  After a moment of contemplation, Ida realized that Mick still held her hand. He also held her gaze, which only served to fluster her more. She pulled her hand away, embarrassed.

  Ida sighed. Why did she always seem to act like a foolish schoolgirl when Mick was around? As she gazed into his twinkling eyes, she had to admit that acting in a sensible fashion might be out of the question altogether.

  Mick watched as Ida placed the Closed sign in the window. Then he inched his way toward the stairwell, knowing he must somehow make it back up to his room. He did not look forward to the challenge. His broken leg still ached, and the usable one did not appear to be as strong as it once was. Getting down had been difficult enough. How would he manage to get back up?