Chapter Fifteen
Abbie sped through the gates and quickly drew the wagon to a halt. People came running out of the house. She leapt down and rushed to take George out of his harness. She was just freeing him when a tall, dark-haired man rushed up with straw to rub him down. Abbie abruptly stopped murmuring soothing words to George and stared at the man, trying to find something that would tell her he was one of Matthew’s brothers.
“Fine sturdy cart horse, lass. Havenae seen one like this for a while. I am Iain, Matthew’s older brother.”
“Hello, Iain. I am Abigail Jenson.” She then heard gunfire and quickly looked around. “I thought we had run into a fort.”
“Lots of folk think that. Just the MacEnroy place.”
“Oh, Jeremiah,” Abbie cried when a wail came from the back of the wagon, and she hurried over, getting back in the wagon, to collect the baby.
Matthew, James, and the Jones brothers rode in just as she picked up the child. When she began to get out of the wagon several men shut the gates then ran up ladders to a walkway at the top of the wall. She had to wonder what kind of life the MacEnroys lived that made them believe they needed such protection. The moment she was back on the ground a small, blond woman hurried over to her.
“I am Emily, Iain’s wife. Do you want me to hold the babe as you get your goat down?”
“If you would, please.” She gently handed over Jeremiah who still fussed but quickly grew quiet. “It has just been too much noise and fast, rough travel for the child.” She kissed Jeremiah’s cheek then went to fetch the goat.
When Abbie brought Delphinium down, she stood and stared at the goat for a moment. “You need a new name. We are going to be stuck with each other for a while and I cannot keep calling you Delphinium.”
“Delphinium? Who would name the poor beast that?”
“The woman I was staying with. I wondered if the goat ate her flowers so she stuck it with a name, but it could be she just thought it was an elegant word. She kept her goats in her cellar whenever there was trouble and at night. She used to have over a dozen of them but only had five left. I needed the milk though and traded her one of my mother’s quilts for him.”
“He seems to be doing well on the goat’s milk.”
“It does appear to agree with him. Jeremiah is an orphan. The Rebs killed his da and his mother died soon after he was born.”
“So you took him . . .”
“I am not that good. There was an older boy I was thinking of taking, another orphan. I knew babies were a great deal of work and there would be hundreds of other problems to be faced with, but she made me promise to care for him. She was dying.” Abbie shook her head and sighed as she took Jeremiah back into her arms. “The poor boy is stuck with me.”
“Babes don’t require all that much to feel secure. Food, warmth, hugs, and getting their cloths changed regularly. Older children can be much more work,” she added softly as a young boy walked over to her and glared at the baby.
Abbie studied the boy and immediately missed Noah. He had a mass of black curls on his head and lovely brown eyes. “He looks just like a boy I know,” she said. “Well, not just like as the boy I know has red hair but those eyes look very familiar.”
“Where is he?” asked the boy.
“I had to leave him behind for now as I knew it would be a risky journey. I hope it won’t be for too long though.”
“How old is he?”
“Five.” She smiled faintly, wondering if Noah was five yet and knowing he’d be pleased to hear himself called it.
“Oh, so he is still little. I am Ned.”
“Hello, Ned.”
“My nephew, my late sister’s child,” said Emily and she ruffled the boy’s hair. “Look, Ned. I was just meeting Jeremiah.”
“Is that the baby? Is he going to scream a lot, too?”
One look at Emily’s face told Abbie she best swallow the laugh that tickled her throat. Ned obviously had a problem with babies and she recalled some mention of Emily having borne two. So a little jealousy, she guessed.
“Ned, babies cry. They cannot speak like you or I can so it is the only way they have of getting our attention. Now be nice. You know what manners are. Use them.”
“Jeremiah is a very, very young baby, too. He cannot even sit up or hold things.” She smiled softly. “I fear he is so young, he does it in the middle of the night, too.”
“Oh. Just like your two do. Or did. Nuala is pretty big now and quiet. Maybe I should move in with the O’Neals,” he grumbled, and stomped off.
Emily stared after her nephew, and by the time she turned back Abbie was laughing. “How can you laugh?” Emily said even though her lips twitched as if she wanted to join in. “That was horribly rude.”
“I know. Such a boy thing to say. For a moment I feared he was going to say Nuala was at least human now.” Emily started to laugh and Abbie grinned. “Think he will actually attempt to move in with the O’Neals?”
“Who knows? They only live in a small cottage out the back so it is not like he is running away very far. I fear he may be a bit jealous.”
“A bit?” Abbie shook her head. “Just be glad he is not one to brood on it.”
“I suppose. I fear I know little about boys.”
“I had a brother. Rather hoping I still do. One of those lawless groups of men attacked our home and took him off to fight with them. They beat my da near to death and attacked my mother.”
“And you?” Emily asked in a voice softened by horror.
“I was hiding. I know nothing that happened was my fault, but it is hard to break free of that thought when you know you were hiding away while all the bad happened.”
“You just would have been killed or attacked like your mother and left behind broken.”
“And that is just what she was: broken. She died when Matthew, James, and Boyd helped me fight off another attack. She would not duck, kept trying to protect my senseless and dying father. Eventually a shot took them both down. Then a fire took my home. I left what little word I could for my brother in case he ever returns.”
“It has been a very sad, bloody few years up in these hills.”
“What troubles me is all the innocents. There is no gain there.”
Abbie looked around, spotted Matthew standing between James and Boyd. They talked to three other men she suspected were more of Matthew’s brothers. She narrowed her eyes when she noticed how Matthew kept shifting his stance as if he was having difficulty holding it. The color was stronger on his cheeks again.
“Emily? Could you hold Jeremiah for me again?”
“Certainly.” She took the baby into her arms. “Is something wrong?”
“Might be. I begin to think Matthew is about to fall on his face. It also looks like his fever is back.”
Abbie did not wait for any reply from Emily but walked straight to Matthew and slipped her arm through his. “Matthew, I think it would be best if we go inside.”
“Probably would be. Not feeling too right.”
James moved up to put his arm around Matthew’s waist and one of the young men in front of her started toward the house, waving her to follow him. “Damn, Matt, you should have said something.”
“Just need to lie down for a while.”
Matthew then began to sink down and Abbie stumbled trying to hold him up. Two of the young men moved nearer, each one grabbing one of Matthew’s legs. James took more of his weight and the four of them carried him up the stairs.
“Just be careful with his legs. He has a bad wound on one of them,” said Abigail.
“Where?” asked the one in front of her.
“Top, left leg.”
They got him into a room and onto a bed. As Abbie searched out some cool water and a few rags with Mrs. O’Neal’s help from the moment she rushed into the room, the men stripped Matthew and pulled the covers over him. Abbie stepped over and began to wash him down with cool water.
“Where was he hurt?” asked Mrs. O’Neal.
“That arm. A through shot, this leg, a bit of meat lost. And his belly.” Abbie heard the woman suck in her breath. “It was shallow.” She cautiously moved the covering and showed her the wound. “Someone was trying to gut him, but he turned. That is why it is shaped oddly.”
“Doctor said that it only needs a pair of eyes,” said James, and the three young men snickered but Mrs. O’Neal slapped him on the back of the head.
“Ow! It was just a joke the doc was making.”
“You don’t go making jokes about such things.”
“Sorry, ma’am. Fellow tends to forget how to talk around the ladies after a time spent in the military.”
“No, no. I’m sorry. This cursed war has made me forget my manners and sense of humor.” She looked at Abbie. “You do this stitching, child?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Abbie even impressed our doc, and him Harvard educated and all. Even better than how neatly she does the stitching is the fact that she can do it fast,” said James and patted Abbie on the head then ducked her swing at him.
“Fast?”
“Less pain,” said Abbie. “I practiced until I could do it faster than my da who was a doctor in Pennsylvania.”
“What’s wrong with Matthew?” demanded Iain as he stormed into the room with Emily hurrying behind him.
“Aside from the fact that he is an idiot male who doesn’t know when to rest? Nothing. He has a fever,” Abbie said as she wiped down his arms, “but it is not too high. A few days resting and he should be fine.”
Iain came to stand by the bed and look his brother over. He stared down at Matthew’s stomach wound for a long time and Abbie watched his expression change slowly from worry to puzzlement. He tugged the sheet up over Matthew’s belly and looked at James.
“Why is his belly smiling at me?” Iain asked.
James said very quietly, “He turned as the knife started to go in and so the cut was lighter and across instead of deep.”
“But it should heal well?”
“Doctor said it would. Of course he also told him to stay off horses and Matthew didn’t obey that well at all. Then there was the fighting as we traveled here. It brought his fever back. Stitches held though.”
“So bed rest and getting the fever down.”
“That’s it.”
“He’s nay going to like that.”
“He’ll learn.”
Iain grinned. “Suspect he might. Nigel, Duncan, Lachlan? Time to feed the stock.” All three young men hurried out the door. “Thank you, Abbie. And you, Mrs. O’Neal.”
Emily hurried over and gave Jeremiah back to Abbie then followed her husband out of the room. Abbie tossed the damp cloth back into the bucket and, with her free hand, felt Matthew’s forehead and cheeks. He was noticeably cooler and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Better?” James asked.
“Very much so. Cooler and, by the looks of it, sleeping peacefully.”
“I’ve got to ride back.”
“Back to where?”
“The town. Meeting up with the doc and then it is off to fight in the far South.”
“Oh, I see. Didn’t you sign up only for a while?”
“I did and I’m pretty sure that time is rapidly coming to a close. Plan to wave them all fare-thee-well when it does but have to heed orders now.”
She impulsively hugged him, holding the baby to the side. “Take care. Sorry he’s not awake to see you off.”
“Yeah, but I know he will wake up and that will do for now. You watch yourself, pigeon.”
She watched him leave, even walking over to the window to see him mount his horse and ride away. Abigail really hoped he continued to have good luck. After putting Jeremiah to bed in the nursery, she also hoped he would find a good companion to watch his back as he had so skillfully watched theirs. Abigail then went to Matthew’s room.
“Well, Matthew, you missed James’s farewell. So best you get better soon or there may be others.” She pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down then looked at Mrs. O’Neal. “Where can I find a book?”
“Is it all right to leave him?”
“I think so, but we won’t be gone that long, will we?”
“No, just heading down to the library. I am just not sure the boys will have anything that will suit you.”
After some looking through a lot of books, Abigail found one that looked good. She did wonder how the MacEnroys got so many books on how to do so many different things. The book she picked had probably been added by Emily. As she walked back into the bedroom where Matthew was she caught him sliding one leg out of bed.
“Get back in that bed.” She would have laughed at how fast he did so except she was too angry. “Are you crazy? How many times do you have to nearly fall on your face before you accept that you need to rest?” she asked as she marched up to the side of the bed.
“Did I fall on my face?”
“No, because I was there, and so were James and several of your brothers.”
“Did I open up any stitches?”
“They are all fine and there appears to be no infection in any of the wounds. The fever comes from doing things too early and doing too much. So now you will have to play the invalid for a while. In fact, you should probably do that until the stitches can be taken out.”
“Where is James?”
“James has returned to the town and the army.”
“Oh hell. He can leave it soon, so why rush back into it? I had thought to keep him here somehow until it was done.”
“The time he signed up for or the war?”
“Both. But now he is in the middle of it without any of us to watch his back.”
“I suspect he knows how to cover himself if he has to. After all, he is the one who never got wounded.”
Abigail made herself comfortable on the side of the bed and opened her book. She was only a few pages in when a heavy sigh came from Matthew. He was clearly not a good reading companion. She turned on her side to look at him and absently pondered the possibility of smacking him with her book.
“Do you want me to get you a book?”
“Nay. I want someone to give me a hand so I can take care of some private business.”
“Okay.” She stood up and left the room.
Matthew hoped she was just going to get someone. He knew he had nearly fallen on his face outside, but he did not think he needed the added humiliation of wetting the bed, which he would do soon if he did not get some help. He swore he would rest as instructed until he could do such things on his own without risking his stitches. He had missed James’s leaving because he did not have the patience to heal himself properly, and that was a hard lesson. Just as he was prepared to yell for Abbie, Iain walked into the room.
“Come on then. Did she say how many days she is thinking of when she says rest?” He put an arm around Matthew’s waist and nearly carried him to the washroom.
“No, but I suspect she has some idea.”
Once done, Matthew allowed himself to be nearly carried back to the bed. “I am not a complete invalid, ye ken.”
“I find that the easiest way to do this. Much easier than just holding ye up while we both stumble along.” After setting Matthew on the bed, Iain sprawled on his back at his brother’s side.
“I suppose. I am angry because I missed James’s leave-taking.”
“I barely had a chance to wish him good luck. He thanked us and rode off.”
“He probably just wanted to get it done. I just hope his luck holds for whatever time he has left.”
“Did he sign up the same time ye did?”
“I think he might have.”
“Then he has ten days.”
“How do ye ken that?”
“Because we marked it down and it is now on the day list for this month. We actually talked about your coming home the other day.”
“Huh, so me, James, Dan, and Boyd are all pretty much done with this mess.” He nudged his brother. “I haven’t seen your new son.”
“I’ll bring him in for a visit when he wakes. Lad is sleeping now, and when he sleeps Emily does, too.”
“Then that must be Jeremiah singing,” said Matthew as a baby’s cry echoed through the house.
“Yup, and that Abbie is fast at hushing him,” Iain said as the noise went away. “That’s a blessing as Emily didnae get much sleep last night because the bairn is getting a few teeth.”
“Hope that misery doesnae last long, for Emily’s and the bairn’s sake.”
“So this lass, Abigail? Are ye gonna wed her or just borrow her for a wee bit longer?”
Matthew grimaced. “I dinnae ken. I keep going round and round then recall it is for life and am back to I just dinnae ken.”
“I am thinking ye best get your wee head on straight about it and soon.”
“Why? She say something about leaving?”
“Nay, and probably wouldnae say it to me. But I tell ye plain, there is only so long a lass will wait around before she decides the mon doesnae want marriage and there are better places to be.” Iain stood up and stretched then looked down at Matthew. “Make up your mind, fool.”
Watching Iain leave the room, Matthew grumbled a vast array of insults toward the man’s back.
Family was supposed to give one support, he thought, and shook his head. Since Iain said pretty much the same thing everyone else did, he guessed he better accept that as the best advice possible. It was a shame it was useless to him.
Abigail walked in still holding her book.
She stood by the side of the bed and stared down at Matthew, her head cocked slightly to one side. “You look better.” She placed her hand on his forehead. “Definitely cooler still. So might be that you don’t have to linger in bed for weeks. Just a couple of days.”
“That’s good, as I would go crazy.”
“That’s what they all say.”
He reached out, grabbed her round the waist, and pulled her down onto the bed. “But if I had something to keep me pleasantly busy, I might be able to endure it.” He kissed her throat as she laughed.
“Such pleasantries can do harm to your stitches.” She dragged her fingers across his belly, along the line of the stitches.
“Not if one takes it easy.”
“Afraid no one is sure just what stress can break the stitches.” She rested her cheek against his chest. “Best to err on the side of caution.”
“Then we will indulge in cautious play.”
“Not with the door wide open.” She hopped off the bed and went to shut the door, then hurried back across the room to crawl into bed beside him.
“Isn’t it a bit early in the day to be indulging in such things?”
“Never too early and never too late.” He unbuttoned the bodice of her gown.
The feel of his hand gently petting her breasts had Abigail shivering. Then she thought of where she would like to touch him. As he brushed warm kisses over the swell of her breasts, she undid his shirt and gently tugged it off him. For a moment she studied his broad chest lightly sprinkled with hair. Red hair, she thought as she studied it.
“Why do you have red hair here?” she asked as she idly smoothed it down only to watch it spring back up.
“I dinnae have red hair anywhere.”
She sat back a little and frowned at him as he hurriedly redid his shirt. “That hair is red.”
“It was just the light that made it look a bit red.”
“No, it was red. Really red. Cannot hide it away red.” She undid his shirt again, slapping away his hands when he tried to stop her. “There. Brilliant red.” She began to look very carefully at the hair on his head. “I wager in the right light I could see some red here, too.”
“Nay,” he began to say and a growing familiar wail went through the house. “Damnation, Abbie,” he said as she jumped off the bed, buttoning her bodice all the way to the door.
“Playing will have to wait. Can’t let him wake up the whole house,” she said as she opened the door and sped down the hall to the small nursery.
Matthew fell back into the bed and cursed. Then scolded himself for being a selfish man. It would have been nice playing with Abigail but she could not ignore the scream of a hungry bairn, and he should never expect her to. Play would have to wait.
Then again, he did not think she was aware of where her place to sleep was. He hurriedly smoothed out the sheets and made sure the blanket was in place and tucked in. Matthew shed his pants and shirt before he settled on his back and waited for her to realize. Forgetting how long feeding a child, cleaning him up, and settling him down to sleep again could take, Matthew slipped quietly into sleep.
It was late when Abbie came back to the room. She sighed because she could tell he had gone to sleep. Not that she blamed him. He was still sick even if he chose to ignore it. Jeremiah had not been cooperative. He had wanted to take his time then wanted to be held again. She had almost fallen asleep in the nursery. It was then that she realized she had not been shown to a room for her. If she was going to sleep in a bed for the night she had to go back to Matthew’s room.
Slipping off her shoes, she rubbed her feet a little so they were not cold. She carefully removed her gown and laid it on the chair near the bed. Then she eased beneath the blankets. Once her body warmed up she rolled close to Matthew. He mumbled something and pulled her close. Abbie smiled, snuggled even closer to his warmth, and closed her eyes.