Page 36 of Heart on the Line

“I need to fetch someone with medical training,” Helen murmured as she set aside her basin and pressed a dressing to his wound. Taking another bandage, she held the end in place atop the dressing, then bent his leg at the knee so she could wrap it around his thigh. “We have a healer in town, and her apprentice is a friend of mine. She’ll know how to treat the infection that’s building and can finish patching you up.”

The stranger’s eyes flew open. His razor-sharp gaze slashed at her as his fingers latched onto her wrist. “No one can know,” he ground out. “No one can know I’m alive.” His hand fell away, his strength suddenly depleted. “A woman’s life . . . is at stake.” His eyelids began to droop. “Only chance . . . is for him to think . . . I’m dead.” His body went lax.

Well, at least they agreed on one point. They needed to keep his presence a secret. Helen just wished she knew which woman he was protecting. Grace or someone else?

“I’m gonna tell Claire whether you like it or not,” she whispered as she tied off the bandage and gently straightened his leg. She stood and, on impulse, brushed his disheveled hair to the side. Heat seeped from his forehead into her fingertips. Helen frowned. The fever was getting worse. “Unless you want to be dead for real, we gotta get help.”

She glanced at the cotton strips she’d set aside for binding. The poor man was in such sorry shape, she didn’t have the heart to tie him up. Thankfully, her mind overrode her heart, just as she’d trained it to do all those years ago in her father’s house.

Taking care to make the strip tight enough to be effective but loose enough not to chafe, she lifted each limp arm and tied it to the iron bedstead, close enough to the mattress to allow him to rest comfortably with his arms bent near his head. He’d be none too pleased when he awoke, but maybe she’d get lucky and return with Claire before he regained consciousness.

“Sorry, mister.” Her heart panged in sympathy even as she backed toward the cabin door. “I hate to leave you like this, but until I know I can trust you, I won’t be taking any chances.”

Ignoring the guilt jabbing at her chest, Helen stiffened her spine, lifted her chin, and walked out the door.

18

Helen approached the clinic from the east to avoid riding through the middle of town. It had been tricky retrieving a horse from the farm without rousing suspicion, but she’d managed to avoid Katie by dropping off the half-full basket of pecans by the back door instead of taking them into the kitchen, and Betty’s respect for her girls’ privacy kept the older woman from pressing for details when Helen proved reticent. Now all she had to do was get to Claire without attracting any undue notice.

After dismounting, she tied her horse to a fence post then pushed through the gate. Before she reached the porch, the front door opened, and a middle-aged woman with a black leather doctor’s bag stepped out.

“Helen.” Maybelle Curtis drew up short and raised a concerned brow. “Has something happened out at the farm? I was on my way to check on Daisy at the boardinghouse, but if there’s an emergency, I can visit her later.”

“No, no.” Helen waved away her offer, silently thanking God for removing another obstacle for her. “I’m here to see Claire. You go on and tend to Daisy. I remember that awful cough she was struggling with at the town meeting two nights ago.”

Maybelle nodded. “It’s settled into her chest, a dangerous thing for someone of her age. Claire mixed up a mustard plaster for me, a recipe her mother swears by. I thought I’d try it and see if it helps break up the congestion.”

“I’ll pray it does.”

Maybelle patted Helen’s shoulder and gave her a grateful smile. “I’m off, then. Claire’s in the examination room. Just go on in.”

“Thank you.” Helen moved past the midwife-turned-doctor and into the clinic, saying a quick prayer for Daisy’s recovery as she went, then adding a petition for her stranger, as well. Heaven knew he needed it.

Helen passed through the front parlor that doubled as a waiting room and knocked on a partially open door on the far side. “Claire?”

The young redhead spun around from where she’d been staring at something in the glass cabinet across the way. A gasp echoed loudly through the room.

Helen winced. “Sorry. It’s only me.”

The Irish woman scowled. “Merciful stars, Helen. Ye nearly had me droppin’ the digitalis. Maybelle would’ve boxed me ears for sure.” She relaxed her fisted hand from against her bosom, where it had flown when Helen startled her, and revealed a small brown vial.

“I’m sorry,” Helen repeated. “I ran into Maybelle outside, and she told me to come in. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Och! Pay me no mind. I’m only snappish because me own clumsiness served me a fright.” An apologetic smile bloomed across Claire’s face a moment before she turned, carefully placed the vial back on its shelf, then closed and locked the cabinet.

Claire was more girl than woman, having only turned eighteen a month ago, but she had the kind of disposition that put the sun to shame. Always vivacious, eager to learn, and more importantly today, always ready to help. As if on cue, Claire tucked the key she wore around her neck back into her bodice and spun to face Helen. “So? What can I do for ye on this lovely day?”

“I found a patient in need of medical attention. Gunshot.”

“Lord preserve us! We must fetch Maybelle at once.” Claire grabbed Helen’s arm and started dragging her toward the entrance. “Whisht, lass. Why did ye not stop her when ye saw her in the yard? She’s the one ye’ll be needin’. Not the likes o’ me.”

Helen tugged her arm free. “No, Claire. I need you. And you mustn’t say anything to Maybelle about it. It has to be kept a secret.”

“Why? If someone’s in trouble, Maybelle—”

“Will report to Emma and Malachi,” Helen interrupted. “And that can’t happen. Not yet. Other lives are at risk.”

Claire stepped backward and frowned. “I don’t hold with keepin’ secrets from me employer, Helen. It isna honorable.”