her gaze toward the movement on the right, saw a man slipping through the trees toward the stones. Toward the bundle. They had set a trap. There were two of them! They had never intended to return Goldie. Could she reach the baby first?
She grasped her skirts, lifted the hems, then let them fall and leaned back against the tree again. The distance across the open area was too great. She would follow the man. She glanced toward the kidnapper. He was opening the gate, reaching down for the gold. When he turned back, she— Her thoughts froze, focused on the sheriff who was edging around the small building in the middle of the cemetery.
A stone flew out of the woods and crashed against the pile of rocks. She jumped, gasped.
The kidnapper looked up, spun around and raced back toward the stones.
The sheriff shouted and gave chase.
Goldie! She had to get her! Viola whirled, saw a man break from the woods and sprint toward the rocks. Thomas Stone!
The kidnapper stopped, raised his gun.
“No! Don’t—”
The report of a shot slammed against her ears, echoed off the mountain. Thomas Stone lurched, ran forward, grabbed the bundle and ran back into the woods. He had saved Goldie! Joy flooded her. She grabbed her skirt, lifted her hems. Another shot rang out. The kidnapper staggered, fell. She turned and ran. Shouts, grunts and curses followed her to the woods.
Thomas Stone was sitting with his back to a tree, the unwrapped baby in his arms. He smiled when she skidded to a stop, dropped to her knees and reached for the baby. “She’s all right.”
Viola nodded, clutched Goldie to her breast and looked at him. “Thank you, Mr. Stone. I—” She stared. The left side of his shirt was soaked with blood. “He shot you.” The whispered words brought a crooked grin to his face.
“It appears so.” He tried to rise, grimaced, sank back and closed his eyes. The blood stain spread.
Her heart clutched. “Don’t move, Mr. Stone. I’ll get the doctor.” She put Goldie on his outstretched legs, lurched to her feet and ran.
“He’s coming around, Viola. He’s going to be all right.”
Her lungs emptied in a long sigh. “Thank You, Lord.” She fought back grateful tears and brought up a smile. “And thank you, Dr. Calloway.”
He shook his head. “You were right the first time—thank the Lord. If that bullet had been a little closer to…” He stopped, smiled. “But it wasn’t. I was able to extract it safely.” The smile morphed into a frown that knit his brows together. “The problem now is his recovery. He lost a lot of blood before we got him here to the clinic, and more during the operation. He’s going to be as weak as that baby you’re clutching as if you’ll never let her go. And he won’t be able to move for a few days, and not use his left arm normally for weeks. He’s going to need constant care. I don’t know where we will find that for him. The clinic is full. And there is no place—”
“He’s not married?”
“No. And it’s certain he can’t go live in that hut of his on the Chilkoot Trail.” Jacob Calloway shook his head, sighed and massaged the back of his neck. “I’ll keep him here in the clinic overnight of course, but then I’ll need the room for other surgical patients.” The frown returned. Then he gave her another tired smile. “Why don’t you go home now and get some sleep. Morning will be here soon, and when the laudanum that thug gave Goldie wears off, she is going to be demanding a lot of attention.” His smile widened. “You can put her down, you know. She’s safe here.”
“Not yet. It’s for my sake I’m holding her.” Viola kissed the baby’s silky, dark hair, squelched the war raging inside her. It was clear what she must do. “You said Mr. Stone is ‘coming around.’ May I see him?”
He studied her for a moment then nodded. “All right. He keeps muttering about a baby. It will likely do him good to see you holding the baby safe in your arms. But you can’t stay but a minute. Like I said, he’s lost a lot of blood and needs rest.”
“I understand.” Viola rose, and hugging Goldie close, followed Jacob Calloway through his small surgery, to the tiny room where his surgical patients recovered, her steps reluctant but determined. She smiled at Teena Crow, stepped to the bed and looked down at Thomas Stone. Her heart almost stopped. She had never seen anyone so pale. Only his eyebrows gave his face color. Even his blond hair seemed to have paled.
“I didn’t realize he was so… I will thank him tomorrow.” She took a steadying breath, looked up at the doctor. “You said Mr. Stone will need care and a place to stay, Doctor. I have room. Please bring him to my cabin when he recovers and—”
“No.”
Viola glanced down. Thomas Stone had opened his eyes. Though his voice was weak, the look in those green eyes left no doubt that he meant exactly what he said. The tension left her. She had offered to care for him. Her obligation was satisfied. It was not her fault the man refused. Still, she stood rooted to the spot, unable to walk away. The man was in dire straits and most likely not fully aware of his situation. “This is no time to stand on pride, Mr. Stone. I am in your debt for saving Goldie, and Dr. Calloway has said you will need constant care—until you are recovered. Staying at my cabin is the sensible solution. I live close by, and the doctor will be able to come visit you daily.”
“No.” His voice was weaker this time, but the tone just as adamant. “Woman…repu…ta…tion…” His eyelids closed, fluttered, but refused to open.
“You’ll have to leave now, Viola. He needs to rest.”
She nodded, stared at Thomas Stone’s pale, still face. Surely, he hadn’t meant he was concerned for her? Of course not. It was his own reputation as a missionary he was concerned about. “No one’s reputation will be sullied, Mr. Stone. Hattie Marsh lives in my home and will help me care for you. Now, rest well. And I will see you tomorrow.” There was no response. She must have put his worries over his reputation at rest.
She looked up at Jacob Calloway. “As I was saying, Doctor, please bring Mr. Stone to my cabin when he is sufficiently recovered. I will have a bed ready for him.” She glanced at Teena, mouthed “thank you” and left the room.
“No.”
“Don’t be foolish, Thomas. If you don’t go to Viola Goddard’s, where will you go? You need care.”
Dr. Calloway sounded decidedly exasperated. Too bad. He was not going to spend a couple of weeks under Viola Goddard’s care. He wouldn’t do it. In spite of what she said, there was her reputation to think of. And there was the baby. Thomas mustered what little strength he could find and opened his eyes. “I’ll go to…my hut.”
“That’s ridiculous, Thomas. You’re too weak to even lift your head off the pillow. How do you expect to— Stop that!”
Jacob gripped his good shoulder and held him pinned to the bed. He hadn’t strength enough to push the restraining hand away, let alone sit up with one arm. Not that he wanted to try again anytime soon. The agony that shot through his upper chest at his movement was enough to hold him still.
“I told you not to try and move, Thomas. Any strain could start that wound bleeding again, and if that happens, I doubt I could save you. Here, swallow
