Page 86 of Mail-Order Lady

“—alive. Thank God you’re alive.”

The words finally broke through the distance.

Alive. He was alive.

His body ached everywhere—his right shoulder and everything else. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

But Clara was here. Safe.

He tried to speak, but his throat burned like he’d swallowed smoke and ash. “You’re...” The word came in a rasp. He swallowed and tried again. “You’re safe.”

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and she nodded. Her hand stayed pressed to his face.

But another hand touched his shoulder, and fire seared down his arm.

Bea’s voice joined in the distance, but the pain clouded out her words. She pressed his flesh and sucked in a breath. Then pushed the air back out.

He’d been shot in that shoulder, but he’d not had time to stop and see the damage. Not when he had to focus on taking out the man with the gun before he could light the fuse again.

Except he had lit the fuse. Before Robert picked himself up off the ground apparently.

And Robert hadn’t realized it until it was almost too late.

The ache in his head pounded harder. It had been too late.

The house.

He forced his eyes open and lifted his head to see around him. People moved through the dim light. Was that…Thomas? He stood at Robert’s feet with his arm tucked around Kate.

And beyond him loomed the massive form of the house. Yet…different.

“The outer wall is gone.” Clara must have heard his thoughts. “Just this side though. It’s…the structure is standing. It can be repaired.”

One wall. So much better than it could have been. “Everyone⁠—?”

“Everyone is safe.” She said it with a certainty that meant she’d already checked. Already seen each person. “Kate. Little Catherine. All of them.”

The pressure in his chest unknotted.

“Enoch and James are here too. They brought the sheriff with them. Sheriff Hawkins.” A small breath. “They have Sutton. And my mother is safe.”

Her mother. In all the chaos, that detail had slipped away.

Bea shifted position, her fingers probing his shoulder. Another spike of fire shot through the spot, but he clenched his jaw against it.

“The bullet went through. That is good.” Bea’s voice was clearer now. “Lot of blood on your clothes.” Her hands moved lower to press against his middle. “Does not look like you bleed anywhere else.”

The throbbing in his head intensified with each pulse, like someone driving a spike through his skull. Where he’d been struck, or maybe where he’d hit the ground when the explosion knocked him off his feet.

He would keep his mouth shut about that pain though. Bea had enough to worry with his shoulder wound.

“I need to bandage this.” Bea sat back on her heels. “Stop the bleeding until the doctor can stitch it properly.”

Robert forced himself to nod. The movement sent fresh agony through his skull, but he fought to keep his expression steady.

Clara’s fingers stroked his jaw, and the warmth of her touch anchored him. He turned his head—slowly—to look at her face.

Dirt streaked across her cheeks. A small cut marked her temple, and dried blood trailed toward her hairline. But her eyes held steady on his, and the relief shining in them eased some of the pounding in his head.