Chapter Nine

With Sam's hand resting in hers, Olivia stared out the window. Stars, like diamonds strewn across a black velvet canvas, sparkled with brilliance. Below, the earth was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, revealing the glistening traces of snow and the bare silhouettes of the trees. On any other night, she would have enjoyed gazing at the heavens but tonight her heart was bruised.

She sat beside her bed regardless of it being near midnight. She wasn't about to leave. Other than bringing in more firewood, she hadn't moved from the chair since Doc Adams and three of the boarders had moved Sam into her room three days ago. Her room abutted the chimney, thus providing a layer of extra warmth for his sake.

She had hoped Aggie and Ed would have returned from their wedding trip by now but a blizzard in Chicago to visit Ed's family had detained them. She planned to tell them how the boarders had stepped up, fixed their own breakfast, and made her tea and toast. One of them, Mr. Higgins, offered to sit with Sam while she rested. She'd refused, of course.

She wasn't leaving Sam's side.

Hit from behind, the bullet had gone straight through, nicking the shoulder blade, and exiting the muscle, leaving a large wound. The blood loss, as she'd already suspected, was severe, and Doc Adams had warned her that Sam might go into shock. He'd left just before midnight, telling her he'd done all he could. The rest was up to the Lord and Sam's own body.

Every hour, she'd stoke the coals in the fireplace, add more wood, keep the reservoir full, and continue to pray for the man she loved. Jess Knowles had come by to see Sam just as dawn broke over the eastern sky the next morning. Armed with a basket of muffins from the bakery, two jars of preserves from Peggy Cobb, and a tin of tea from Hennigan's mercantile, he insisted Olivia get some nourishment and sleep. Though grateful for the respite, she didn't have the heart to tell Jess she only closed her eyes for an hour or so.

Now, here it was Tuesday, three days gone, and Sam had yet to wake, take a sip of water, or even make a sound.

Yet, he was still breathing.

Olivia ran her forefinger over the back of Sam's hand, unable to forget about the words he'd said to her after he'd been shot. He was going to ask her to marry him and she had dismissed him with the feeble excuse of not feeling well. Why had she allowed her past doubts to keep her from a future with Sam? Everything she'd had was gone. All that was left was the new life she was building in Cottonwood Falls. And now, because she withheld her deep affection for Sam, she could very well lose him, too.

She gazed out the window once again, thinking about where her life had been, where it was now, and where she wanted it to go. Surrendering to her need for help beyond her own abilities, she turned her thoughts to prayer.

Thinking she had no more tears left, she was surprised to feel moisture dripping down her cheeks, but she gained a measure of peace. No matter what the future held, whether it be a day, a week, a month, or a year, she wanted Sam to be part of it.

Olivia turned back to study Sam's profile. Even though it had only been two months, she knew his face as well as her own. Her eyelids fluttered, and tired as she was, she refused to close her eyes believing if she did she might lose him.

Thinking a cup of tea might help revive her, Olivia went to the kitchen. While waiting for the tea to steep, she prayed again . Lord, I pray that You give Sam the strength to overcome this struggle and return to me. You know our hearts better than we do. Please favor us with Your grace so that we may share our love. Amen.

Startled when she heard a voice like a rusty hinge calling her name, her teacup slipped from her hands. With her heart in her throat, she took a deep breath. Maybe it was one of the boarders. She went to the short hall leading to the stairs. All appeared quiet.

"Livvy?" This time when she heard the voice she knew exactly where it came from. She ran barefoot into her room and dropped to her knees beside the bed. Through a sheen of tears and the small kerosene lamp on the side table, she could see Sam was awake. "Hiya, Sheriff…" Her voice broke.

Sam struggled to smile. "I…it hurts, Livvy."

"It's going to hurt for some time. You're going to be all right, Sam. Just rest. You lost a lot of blood." She swiped at the tears with the sleeve of her blouse, realizing for the first time, she still wore the same clothes since Saturday.

He blinked twice and looked around. "Where am I? What time is it?"

Olivia found his hand. "You're at the boarding house…in my room. Today is Tuesday. You've been out for three days."

"Jess taking care of things in town?"

A sob caught in Olivia's throat. Lord, I love this man! Wasn't that just like him to be thinking of his responsibilities before himself? "Yes. He came by the day after you were injured. He's handling everything and decided to keep those men you deputized. Everything has been quiet. Would you like water, broth…Maggie Hennigan sent me some tea?"

Sam brought her hand to his lips. "Nah. Right now, I just want to look at you."

Heat stole into her face and she pulled her hand from his. "I must look a fright," she said, trying to smooth the wayward wisps into the sagging bun at the nape of her neck.

"Opening my eyes and seeing your beautiful face lets me know every second counts, Livvy."

As much as she wanted to be with him, to tell him how much she loved him, she knew he needed nourishment. "I'll warm up some broth. Maybe I'll put an egg in it."

Sam closed his eyes and leaned back, fatigue and pain etched in his face. "Sounds good."

A short time later, Olivia set a cup of broth on the small side table. Gingerly, he sipped the broth until it was gone.

From a brown bottle, she poured a teaspoon of liquid onto a spoon and stirred it into the water. "Doc Adams said this medicine would help with the pain."

He took the glass. After the first gulp, he pulled a face. "Ugh, that's awful." But when she arched an eyebrow, he continued drinking.

When he finished the entire glass, Olivia could feel the fear begin to ease. He was going to recover. She was sure of it. "Get some rest. Your body needs to heal."

"You'll be here when I wake?"

"You bet, Sheriff." Olivia adjusted the quilt, careful not to bump Sam's injured shoulder. She watched his eyes drift closed. Tomorrow, she'd ask Mr. Higgins or one of the other boarders to stop by the doctor's place to let him know Sam had pulled through the ordeal.

Instead of sleeping in the chair, she made a pallet on the floor next to the bed. She reached for her bible and thumbed through the pages. Finally, she found the verse that promises the peace of the Lord that passes all understanding. ‘Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God will guard your hearts and minds in the Lord.'

Olivia clasped her hands in prayer and reflected on the words. She believed with all her heart that the Lord would be with Sam, that He would protect him, and grant him peace.

After a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving, she closed her eyes. For the first time in days, her dreams were hopeful ones. Being Sam's wife. Sharing a home with him, and any children who might come.

Just before slipping into slumber, Olivia turned on her side to face the bed and whispered the words she labored to say when she was awake. "I love you, Sam Wright."

Sam came awake one labored breath at a time as pain across his shoulder and down his chest felt like a burning inferno. He struggled to open his eyes, and finally gave up, unable to do that and breathe at the same time.

He tried swallowing but couldn't. His mouth felt like it was filled with sand. And he was hot, so hot.

Reaching for the quilt with his good arm, he wrestled it down, emitting a string of grunts and groans until Olivia stirred and crawled to his side. "Sam? What is it?"

Sam managed a smile through the heat and the pain. Though her skin was pale, there was a soft color in her cheeks and her sweetly curled lips. Looking at him with eyes heavy with sleep, he couldn't recall a more beautiful sight. Yet they still held that glimmer he'd noticed when he'd first met her on the train platform. "I'm hot…and thirsty."

"Don't move," she ordered.

Memories came back with the pain. Olivia kneeling beside him in the street. The sound of her voice talking to him, pulling him away from the brink, not letting him sink away from the pain…away from life.

Olivia shifted her fingers through his hair. "You're going to be fine, Sam. Just rest."

Sam shook his head, fighting with the bedclothes. "I'm hot."

She laid a hand over his forehead. "You've got a fever." Her voice was tinged with worry. "I'll need to check the wound."

The thought of Olivia poking and prodding his wound made him nauseous "Later. Right now, I need something to drink."

As soon as she left, Sam shifted and tried to sit up, but the pain burned through his shoulder, and down his arm and chest. Spots danced before his eyes. He sank back into the pillow and closed his eyes fighting down the nausea coming from the pain in his skull.

Olivia returned, helping him drink a glass of water. Though he felt her hand travel from his forehead to his cheek, he couldn't gather the energy to open his eyes. Something was wrong…different. It wasn't just the pain from the gunshot. A jolt of fear seized him that he wouldn't wake up again if he fell asleep this time.

He struggled to open his eyes, to see Olivia for a final time, to tell her he loved her, to tell her he wanted to build a life with her, to have children with her. He tried swallowing again but the pain and fatigue washed over him, pulling him lower into an ocean of darkness.

His last thought was of her. I love you, Olivia Talbot .

Olivia placed a rag packed with a bit of snow inside on Sam's forehead. An hour later, it was hot. She touched his cheeks, tapping lightly to wake him so he could take some water. As a last resort, she lifted a spoonful of snow to his mouth, praying he would swallow some of the liquid.

"Sam? Wake up, Sam," she pleaded. There was no response. She began to shake as fearful images built in her mind.

Hoping to calm her fears, she tried to keep busy, filling the reservoir with water and stoking the fire before adding more logs. The weather had turned frigid again, and although the boardinghouse was snug and warm most days, cold air seeped through the windows and the door.

Sam continued to sweat as if it were summer. Moments later, she'd find him shivering. Olivia would pile on more blankets only to remove them minutes later when he would kick them off.

By late morning she could no longer sit by and wait for the fever to break. After trying to coax him into swallowing more snow with little success, she bathed his face, neck, and arms before she changed her clothes and headed to see Doc Adams.

A gaunt-looking man, appearing older than his years, and a woman holding a child waited on straight, ladder-back chairs, but Olivia wasn't above cutting in front of them. In her mind, a man's life was in danger.

She fisted her hand on the door, disregarding all manner of decorum. "Doctor, it's Sam. He needs you!" Her shouts woke the sleeping child, its cries adding to the racket.

Grumbling accompanied heavy footsteps echoing down the short hallway toward the door. Doc yanked open the door looking as fierce as Olivia had ever seen him.

"Miss Talbot, what's all the ruckus?"

Olivia breathed in quick, shallow gasps, trying to get the words out. "Doctor, Sam's got a fever. He won't eat, he won't drink. He's not even answering me when I talk to him."

Doc Adams expelled an exaggerated sigh and ran a hand through his already furrowed hair. "Olivia, I warned you something like this would happen. For a wound like that…" He shook his head. "Go on back to the boardinghouse. The best thing you can do for him now is just make him comfortable."

"You've got to come, Doc. You've got to give him something for the fever." She stomped her foot in desperation. Never in the whole of her life had she acted out in this manner. But then again, she never loved anyone as she loved Sam.

"Miss Talbot, I've got a boy in my surgery who broke his leg in two places, not to mention the bone has pierced the skin. If I leave him now, the worst outcome is that he may die from the shock or be crippled for his remaining days. As I said, go home, and make Sam comfortable. I'm sorry, Olivia."

The doctor closed the door before Olivia could plead her case again. Stumbling out of the surgery, she dropped down on the first step, heedless of the freezing temperatures and a light sprinkling of flurries. She let her tears flow, surprised they didn't freeze on her cheeks. She had to do something. She couldn't…wouldn't let the man she loved die.

"Olivia? Olivia Talbot."

In a very unladylike move, she swiped her nose with the cuff of her coat. Sweeping along the path leading to the back of the house, she saw Bea Adams coming her way. With her regal bearing, upswept hairdo, and stylish attire, she could have passed for a member of the Boston elite.

"My husband can be a real bear sometimes," she began sitting down next to Olivia and pulling her shawl tighter across her body. "As my papa used to say about my husband when we were courting ‘Tom Adams is all foam and no beer'"

"Sam's in a bad way," Olivia sniffled. "Doc says there's nothing to be done."

Bea patted her hand. "I know. Sam told me about it the night he came home after the shooting. Look, Olivia, Tom's a man and a good doctor. I respect his profession, but he isn't the only one with good medical sense in Cottonwood Falls. Have you met Miriam Red Bird?"

Olivia sat up. "Yes," she answered hesitantly. "Sam took me riding to Flint Hills one afternoon. On the way back to town we stopped at a house…a dugout he called it. He introduced me to Miriam and her husband, Sean. Sam said Sean used to be with the Army at Fort Riley."

Bea nodded. "I suggest you go see Miriam. She's a medicine woman, like her mother before her. Many of the tribes in the area go to her for help. Most of the folks in town don't trust her methods." She paused, then stood up, and Olivia saw a shadow of sadness pass over her features. "A friend of mine goes to her for some, um, tea leaves for help in conceiving a child. She may have some herbs to help with Sam's fever."

Realizing she'd left Sam alone for far too long, Olivia rose, her mind on what Bea Adams told her about teas or a potion that might help him. Plus, she had a feeling the woman Bea had spoken of was herself. "I appreciate the advice, Mrs. Adams."

Bea clasped Olivia's hand in hers. "I'll pray for Sam."

Olivia was a Christian. All the stories she'd heard back East about Indians suggested they worshipped the Lord in different ways. Well, so did lots of other people, and if an Indian woman could help Sam get well, who was she to argue?

Pulling up the collar of her paletot and her fur-trimmed hood, she held her purse close to her body as she headed in the direction Bea had pointed out. There were fewer businesses on the north edge of town, but since it was still daylight, she tamped down her fears.

Finally, she saw the dugout where she and Sam had stopped on their way home from Flint Hills. Built into a rise, the dugout was fortunate enough to have a glass window next to the door, and two stovepipes—one in the front of the newer section, another further back in the original structure. She knew from her first visit the floor was dirt, and the roof was fashioned from log beams that supported saplings or tree branches placed side by side and covered with grass. She couldn't even fathom what Auntie Dee or any of her co-workers back in Boston would have thought of her entering one, let alone enjoying sassafras tea and corncakes with honey in a hole in the ground.

Olivia had just stepped onto the stairs dug into the ground when the heavy log door swung open. An Indian filled the space. He wore leggings and a buckskin tunic beneath a buffalo cloak. Despite the wind and snow, he wore no hat, but his hair was stiffened and made to stand erect and curved like a horn. Around his waist, he wore two belts. One held up his britches the other held a tomahawk and a knife. A pair of light-colored soft-soled moccasins covered his feet.

Startled, she retreated backward. It wasn't that she was frightened; but rather, his appearance was unexpected. She lifted her chin. "I've come to see Miriam."

His brows rose before he called something over his shoulder in a lilting dialect then heard Miriam's distant reply. "She coming. You stay here." He pointed to the ground.

Olivia nodded and waited. Clearly, he didn't want her to enter the dugout.

"What you want?" he growled.

She was saved from answering when Miriam appeared, saying something to the man as she laid a hand on his arm. "Welcome again to my home, Olivia. And please excuse Grey Deer. My brother means well. He often comes to stay with me when Sean is away."

With Sam home alone and the wind rising, Olivia didn't want to be caught in a snowstorm. "I need something for a fever. Sam was shot and now he has a fever. Doctor Adams can't come…his wife said maybe you could help." She realized she was rambling but she was anxious to get home.

"Come," Miriam stretched out her arm. "Warm yourself by the fire. I will get what you need for Sam." Grey Deer finally stepped aside as she followed Miriam inside. "It shouldn't take me long." She disappeared behind the intricately designed blanket strung across the width of the room. Recalling her first visit, Olivia recalled Sam's explanation that once Sean and Miriam constructed the timber-framed sod house, the dugout would become an extra room or be used for storage.

Standing near the table, Olivia jumped suddenly as the rafters shook when Miriam's brother closed the door. He surprised her further as he picked up a chair, set it by the fire, and pointed to it. "Sit. Warm."

Olivia tipped her head. "Thank you." She lowered her hood and undid the top button of her paletot. Unfortunately, the heat from the fire reminded her that Sam was by himself at home, feverish. She may have been gone only an hour, but it seemed like a lifetime.

As if she willed Miriam to hurry, she stepped out from behind the partition carrying a deerskin pouch. "This is a sacred bundle. My people believe the medicines we place inside serve as a connection between us and the spirit world."

She undid the leather ties and held up a pouch of leaves wrapped in cheesecloth and held together with twine. "This is yarrow. My people call it plumajillo ‘little feather' for the shape of the leaves. Soak them in water. Put them on the wound. This," she picked up a second, larger pouch, "is horsemint. It will help with the fever. Steep the leaves in cold water, then have him drink it. Do this when you get home, and again in six hours until he's better," she instructed.

Olivia readied herself for the trip back to Sam and picked up the bundle. She smiled, not sure if the concoctions would work. But it was her last chance.

"Can I pay you?"

Miriam pushed her hand away. "Your money is no good here, Olivia. Sam is our friend. We do for one another. We hope you will be our friend, too. I'd like to give you a blessing from my ancestors."

Touched by Miriam's kindness and generosity, she nodded. "I'd like that very much, Miriam."

Grey Deer came to stand by Miriam and lifted both arms as she prayed. " Oh, Eagle; come with wings outspread in sunny skies. Oh, Eagle, come and bring us peace, thy gentle peace. Oh, Eagle, come and give new life to us who pray. Remember the circle of the sky, the stars, and the brown eagle, the great life of the Sun, the young within the nest. Remember the sacredness of your gifts."

Amen, Olivia added.

With a promise to visit once Sam recovered, Olivia rushed home, holding the bundle close. She had a medicine that might work or not but it was given as a gift along with a blessing.

When she arrived, she immediately ran to Sam's bedside. She wiped down his face and neck, checked his bandage, and adjusted the covers. Working quickly, she portioned out the horsemint leaves into a cup and covered them with cool water from the pump. Spoonful by spoonful, she managed to feed him the minty-scented drink. Once she soaked the yarrow and removed his bandage, she placed the damp leaves on the wound and re-bandaged it.

Needing to keep busy, she set the room to rights, then started on the kitchen. She kept an eye on the clock and repeated the procedure

As evening fell, the wind expanded into a gale, and with it came snow. Since Sam appeared no better than he had in the morning, she decided to take a sponge bath and wash her hair.

Done with her nightly ablutions, she slipped into a nightgown, fed Sam more medicine, and checked his bandage before finding her spot on the floor next to him. She would guard and pray over him for the rest of the night.

It might be the last time she had that opportunity.

"Lord, thank you for the privilege of caring for this good man. As the Divine Physician, please take the fever from his body. You've shown me how truly strong I am. With your guidance, I can go on without him, but I don't want to. I want to make a life with him here in Kansas and have children with him. To you, I give all honor and praise. Amen."