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Garret pushed himself up from Mr. Charles limp form, and his heart dropped as he saw his beautiful bride now covered in blood as she held her brother in her arms. Nancy was on her knees beside Rowan, her hands clasped together in prayer as tears rolled down her face. His heart sank as he saw the blood pouring down from Ted’s head, but the young man was still lucid as he reached up with a trembling hand and cupped the side of Rowan’s face.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said through her tears. “I love you so much.”
He didn’t respond, his eyes closing as his color went to a pasty tone that Garret had seen all too often on the battlefield.
“Ted!” she screamed with such heartache that Garret thought his might break.
“Move aside,” Dr. Tibbs ordered in his no-nonsense voice. “If we’re going to have any hope of saving this young man, you need to move.”
Garret and Edward ended up dragging a crying Rowan away, her eyes glassy with shock. Dr. Tibbs ordered some of his staff to put Ted on the bed, and then to go fetch his medical bag.
“Ted,” she sobbed as she held onto their arms. “He came back. I knew he’d come back. I should have waited for him. I should have waited. It’s all my fault if he dies.”
“Shhhh,” Edward hummed against her head. “No anger or sadness in a sickroom. He needs you to be strong, my little tigress. Be strong for him.”
Garret felt her shudder in his arms, and he held her even tighter, guilt and worry filling him. He knew in his gut that if Ted didn’t make it, Rowan would never be the same. She’d carry the remorse of his death with her like a stone around her heart. A group of men came in and dragged a battered and still unconscious Mr. Charles out, promising to keep him locked up in the town’s small jail until the local sheriff could come get him.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, though Mrs. Tibbs managed to get Rowan to change out of her blood-soaked gown. Food was brought up, but Rowan refused to eat anything as Dr. Tibbs worked on sewing up the long wound along the side of Ted’s head. Nancy sat in the other corner of the room, saying a steady litany of prayers as her fingers moved over her rosary. The wound on Ted’s head started at his temple and went all the way back. Dr. Tibbs gave Ted medicine to keep him asleep as he worked, and by the time he was done putting in twenty-one stitches, they were all exhausted.
Cleaning his hands in a bowl of water, Dr. Tibbs walked over to the side of the room where they all sat in chairs that had been brought up by the staff. “He’s lost a lot of blood, and he wasn’t very strong to begin with. Looks like he’s been missing a few too many meals. Luckily, the bullet skimmed the side of his skull. Didn’t penetrate the bone but I worry that there may be some swelling in his brain from the trauma.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Rowan asked, her voice raw from crying.
“I won’t lie to you, dear girl. He is badly hurt, and we won’t know the extent of the injuries to his brain until he wakes up. Best thing you can do for him right now is to let him rest and pray.”
Rowan let out a little sob, and Nancy handed her father a towel as she said, “Thank you, Pa. He’s a hero; he saved our lives. Mr. Charles was going to…do unspeakable things to us. If Ted hadn’t come…”
Garret wanted to point out that Ted hadn’t saved them alone, but he saw the hero worship in Nancy’s eyes and kept his mouth shut.
“Thank you,” Edward said as he rubbed his thumb along the back of Rowan’s hand. “I know you did your best.”
Rubbing his face with the clean towel, Dr. Tibbs sighed. “I’m spent, so I’m going to try and get some sleep. I’m assuming you won’t be leaving his side?” They all said no, and Dr. Tibbs ran his hands through his mussed up red and white hair. “I’d tell you to try and get some sleep yourselves, but I know you won’t. I will say this—when your brother wakes up, he’s going to want to see his sister. He’d probably be distressed if she looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion. Try to get some rest.”
Without a word, Rowan let go of their hands and made her way over to the bed. Moving carefully, she laid down next to her brother and took one of his hands in her own. A steady stream of tears leaked from her eyes as she began to whisper to him. Exchanging a glance with Edward, they both settled in for a long night.
* * *
Three weeks later
The violinist played a merry reel that had the revelers spinning madly on the wood floor of the schoolhouse. The desks had been cleared away, and pine boughs hung from the rafters along with silk ribbons and other pretty decorations the women of Bridgewater had made. Laughter and music filled the air, and Garret sat at one of the small tables pushed up against the wall.
Out on the improvised dance floor, the women’s dresses swirled out like colorful flowers as they were passed from partner to partner. Overhead the lanterns blazed, and the heat from the crowd and the cast iron stove at the end of the room kept everything toasty. Outside, more snow fell, and he looked forward to spending the rest of the evening in bed with their wife.
Once he managed to drag her away from the festivities.
Rowan had blossomed in the short time she’d been in Bridgewater, her smile bright and happiness practically radiating from her like the sun.
Garret’s gaze wandered through the crowd, finding Ted sitting next to Nancy not too far away under the watchful eye of Mrs. Tibbs. The young man was recovering well from his injury, though he would bear a rather nasty scar on the side of his face for the rest of his life—not that Nancy seemed to mind. The way she batted her lashes at Ted with stars in her eyes, and the way Ted was gazing at her like she was the only woman in the world, made Garret chuckle.
“What is it?” Edward asked as he returned from the dance floor, his face shiny with sweat.
“Young love,” Garret said as he slid Edward a beer after
he sat down. “I’m guessing it won’t be too much longer before Mrs. Tibbs has another wedding to plan.”
Brushing his upper lip, Edward tilted back in his chair so he could see the couple, then grinned. “Oh yeah, he’s a goner.”
