and drink plenty of water and take broth often.”
“And I’ll be able to get out of this bed then?”
“It’s going to be a few days, Thomas. Aside from the weakness due to your loss of blood, you need to limit movement and give this wound time to begin to heal. I put in some deep sutures to stop the bleeding, but only a few loose ones at the surface. You’ll have quite a scar, but any infection will be able to ooze out.” Jacob leaned down, peered closely at the bandage on his shoulder. “Hmm, we’ve got some seepage here. I’ll cleanse this and apply a new bandage.” He turned his attention to removing the bandage.
Thomas sucked in a slow breath, gathered his strength to talk against the pain. “Look, Jacob, I respect your skill, but—”
“No buts, Thomas.” Jacob delved into his bag, splashed liquid from a bottle onto a clean white cloth. “Hold still now.”
The cloth touched his shoulder, cool and moist. And then the burning started. He gritted his teeth, willed himself not to flinch away.
“There, that’s got it. Now for the bandage…” Soft cloth covered his wound. Jacob’s fingers brushed against his sore flesh, secured the bandage in place. “You will stay flat on your back in that bed until I say you can move, Thomas. Unless you want to rip that wound open and make everything worse. Now, let’s take care of your personal needs, then I will go back to the clinic. I’ll come check on you again tonight.”
A few more days until he could get out of this bed. And then, how long before he could go home to the solitude of his hut? How long must he be here with the baby? And with Viola? The woman pulled at his emotions in a way he had never experienced before, not even with Louise. She was eye-catchingly beautiful it was true. But it was something else. Something he couldn’t put a name to. But it was there all the same. When he’d first looked into her eyes he’d felt that sudden, sure connection. And it hadn’t gone away. It had gotten stronger.
Thomas pulled in more air, set his jaw and stared at the chimney stones against the opposite wall. It didn’t matter how long he stayed, or how strong the draw he felt toward Viola Goddard. He had made a vow to never again subject a wife to the primitive living conditions necessary to his missionary work with the Tlingits and the men swarming up the Chilkoot Trail to the gold fields. He intended to keep that vow. Being the cause of Louise’s and Susie’s deaths was enough guilt and regret to carry.
Chapter Five
“Sorry. So sorry…”
Viola started, opened her eyes, blinked and stared into the darkened room. Who was Thomas speaking to?
“I’ll carry them— Auugh!”
“Mr. Stone, no! Don’t move!” She threw off her blanket and rushed to the bed, placed her hand on his good shoulder to stop him from trying to rise. “Lie still. You will injure yourself!” His eyes opened, his good hand lifted, clamped around her wrist. She jerked, grabbed for his fingers. “Let go of—”
“Don’t try to stop me, Seth. That’s my wife and child. I’ll bury them myself.”
He was dreaming. Viola’s panic died. She stopped pulling at his fingers, stared into his unseeing eyes. The reflected, low flame of the oil lamp gleamed in their green depths, revealed shadows of pain.
“Do you want me, Viola? I thought I heard you call.”
She jumped, glanced over her shoulder at Hattie standing in the doorway in her rumpled nightgown, her gray hair hanging down around her plump shoulders, and shook her head. “Thank you, Hattie, but no. Everything is fine. Mr. Stone was dreaming.”
“Night, then.” Hattie yawned and padded off into the other room.
Viola took a calming breath and turned back. Thomas Stone’s eyes were closed, his mouth parted slightly in slumber. She tugged gently at his fingers. His grip tightened. She fought back resuming panic, the queasiness rising in her stomach. The man was sleeping. He didn’t know what he was doing. No matter, he was injured and Hattie was near. She was safe. She took another breath, tapped his cheek. “Wake up, Mr. Stone.” He blinked, stared up at her. She held her voice steady, tapped his hand. “Please let go of my wrist.”
His gaze dropped. He stared, frowned. “What…” He sucked in a breath, pressed his lips into a tight line.
“You were dreaming. And thrashing about a bit, which has probably increased your pain. I’ll get the medicine.” She pulled at his fingers, slipped her wrist from his grasp while he was still confused. His hand dropped to the bed.
Viola stepped back, moved to the window and pulled the bottom of one curtain back a slit. A narrow streak of midnight sun spilled down the wall and washed over the commode stand. Please, Almighty God, don’t let him have hurt his shoulder. Please don’t let it bleed. She opened the bottle, filled the spoon and turned back to the bed, on his wounded side. She would not make the mistake of standing by his good arm again. “Here is your medicine, Mr. Stone.”
He opened his eyes, fastened his gaze on hers. “I’m sorry for…whatever happened, Miss Goddard. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
His voice was tight with pain. She shook her head. “You were dreaming, Mr. Stone. And I am fine.”
His eyes darkened. “No, you’re not. You’re trembling.”
The words came out from between his gritted teeth. She looked down at the quivering medicine in the bowl of the spoon. Never admit fear. “I guess I am more fatigued than I realized. You had better take this before I spill it.” She held the spoon to his mouth. He swallowed. “I will get you some water in a moment. But first I must look at your bandage.”
“No. That upsets you.”
How did he— Oh, when she had washed his hand. Viola stared down at him, uncertain of how to respond to his concern—if that’s what it was—then turned and laid the spoon on the medicine tray. “I cannot deny that is true, Mr. Stone. But this is no time for such foolish weakness.” She turned back, reached for the covers.
“Please, don’t.” He slid his good hand toward her.
She jerked back, caught herself and leaned forward. He could not reach her unless he turned onto his wounded shoulder. “I’m afraid I must. The doctor warned me that if you moved you could cause your wound to begin bleeding again. If that happens, I am to go for him immediately.” She braced herself and lifted the covers, let out a relieved sigh. “There is no sign of bleeding.”
“You’re brave…”
His words were halting, slurring. “Don’t go to sleep, Mr. Stone. You must have some water. Doctor’s orders.” She replaced the covers, poured water into a glass and picked up the spoon. She managed to coax half of the water into him before sleep overcame his will. She gazed down at his face, taut with pain even in slumber, then slid her gaze to where his hand rested on top of the covers. Had he really tried to stop her from looking at his bandage because he had noticed it bothered her? She could not remember a man ever showing concern for her feelings. Not even her father. He had been only a distant figure of authority.
She put down the glass, stared at Thomas Stone’s bared arm. She had to cover it. From the other side of the bed. His good side. The queasiness returned to her stomach. She rubbed her wrist, erasing the feel of his
