Chapter Eleven

L ibby drifted toward the whispering voices. Were Ben and Charlie planning something silly again? Ben liked to play practical jokes, harmless ones, but ones he was teaching Charlie. She drifted closer to the voices. It wasn't Ben's voice. There was an unrecognizable woman's voice and a more familiar man's. When her mind finally seemed to be resting quietly, she eased her eyes open.

A woman stood at the side of the bed. Her face seemed friendly enough, but her clothes, a long sleeved, high-necked blouse with lace running down the front, and a gathered skirt, looked out of date. She wasn't very tall, maybe five foot two or three. Her light brown hair was parted down the middle and pulled back to cover her ears. Libby couldn't tell what held it in place. At this point, as long as no one hurt her or her children, she really didn't care.

"How do you feel?" The woman's was soft and soothing.

Libby tried to answer, but her throat was dry enough to put a desert to shame.

"I think she needs some water." The masculine voice came from the other side of the bed.

Trying not to move her pounding head too fast, Libby turned toward the voice. Once she saw the man in the mask, she remembered everything. Knowing what she knew now, the couple's clothes and the furniture made more sense. It really was 1870, and Ben was dead. She closed her eyes to the emotional turmoil reeling through her body.

The woman came back with a glass of water. "Ma'am? Libby? Here, you drink this. It'll help you feel better." The woman put her arm around Libby's shoulders and helped her up.

"Nothing will make me feel better," Libby whispered as she lay back down and closed her eyes.

"We're all happy you've came out of your spell," The woman said. "Poor Brad has been worried sick for the past two days. Luckily, Caleb and I had come for a visit."

Libby's eyes flew open. "Two days? I've been out two days?" Her voice cracked. "Where's Charlie and Lucy?" Pounding head notwithstanding, she needed to see her children and tried to get out of bed.

A strong hand gripped her arm and kept her down. "Libby, you have to stay in bed. Colleen has been taking care of Lucy, and her husband, Caleb, and their children have been keeping Charlie occupied. Do you remember Cora?" At Libby's nod in the affirmative, Brad went on, "Well, she's been taking care of all of us."

"I have to feed Lucy. After two days she must be hungry." Several images of Lucy starving and emaciated passed through Libby's mind. She began to panic. "What's wrong with her? Why isn't she crying? I want my baby now!"

The woman Brad called Colleen tried to calm Libby down. "It's all right, Libby. She's fine. When she rejected the sugar-tit Cora tried giving her, I nursed Lucy. I had only quit nursing my youngest and still had milk left. I hope that doesn't offend you."

Libby shook her head. It was all too much to take in, but she was not one to let the kindness of others go unnoticed. "I appreciate what you've done. Thank you. Can I please hold her?"

Colleen leaned over the end of the cradle and picked up Lucy. A vague memory of another woman in the same position crossed Libby's mind. She looked closer at Colleen and Lucy. This was not the same woman she had seen before.

"There you go, sweetheart," Colleen cooed. "There's your mama."

****

B rad's heart swelled as Libby talked quietly to her daughter. Thankfully, Libby had finally woken and seemed to have all her faculties. Colleen's grin meant she felt the same. He was thinking about going to get Charlie when her next comment hit him like a brick.

"I want to see Ben and Charlie."

Brad cleared his voice, trying to stall for time while he found the right words. "Uh, Libby, I'll get Charlie for you in just a minute, but we had to bury your husband yesterday. You do remember he's dead?" Brad held his breath, waiting for her answer. Nothing so far had shown she would throw a fit, but he didn't want her passing out again, either. Nor did he want to find out she had forgotten everything.

Libby kept looking at Lucy. "I remember," she answered quietly. "You couldn't wait for me to get better before you buried him?"

Brad brought his hand toward his hair in frustration and stopped. Damn mask. "Ma'am, we just couldn't wait any longer. The weather is too warm, and..."

"I understand. You had to bury him."

Her quiet answers were getting on his nerves. He was glad she wasn't having fits or anything, but she was far too placid. He could understand how she might be feeling. Losing the one you love was the same as snapping the life out of yourself. Just because he had raised holy terror in his pain didn't mean everyone else had to react the same. They would all be wise to let her grieve in her own way.

What he thought he knew about her situation and what he figured she was remembering wouldn't help her grief any, either. Thank God she had her children to take care of and keep her mind off her husband.

"Could you please bring Charlie to me?" Libby interrupted his thoughts.

Colleen glanced at him and nodded.

Grateful for something to do, Brad left the room, ran down the stairs, and out the front door. Caleb and his children, along with Charlie, were still playing the game Charlie had called baseball. When Charlie mentioned the game, Caleb said he had read about a man who'd created the game. Of course, with Charlie's three-year-old way of speaking, they could be misunderstanding him.

"Hey, Uncle Brad, come and try this. It's fun," one of his nephews said, handing him the piece of wood Charlie called a "bat."

"Not now, Matthew, I have to take Charlie up to his mother."

Charlie ran up to Brad. "Is my mommy awake? Is she? Huh? Please, mister, can I see my mommy now?"

"Sure, whippersnapper, you can see your mommy now." Brad picked Charlie up and headed toward the house. "Your mommy is anxious to see you, but first I think we had better wash you up. Your face and hands are full of dirt."

Charlie laid his head on Brad's shoulder. "I just want to see my mommy," he whispered.

Brad patted Charlie on the back and thought about what the little boy had been through and how brave he had been. Chicken that he was, Brad still hadn't told him about his father. Brad kept telling himself the news should come from Libby, but deep down he knew he didn't have it in him to break the boy's heart.

"It'll be all right, Charlie. Let's go find Cora, get you cleaned up, and then take you to your mother." They entered the house calling for Cora's help.