the lamp that hung from a hook over the bedside table, out of Banks’s reach.
“Banks. Stuff. Dodger. Out.” Everything was happening too fast. There were six bodies in the room, countingDodger. Jake, Ward and their burden seemed impossibly big in such a small space. It was all too much. More than she could handle.
“Let’s get these clothes off of him or he’ll wind up soaking the bed when he thaws out,” Ward said. “We’ll hold him and you strip him.” The preacher was propped between the two men with his head lolling forward, oblivious to everything. Even bent over as he was, Leah could see that he was taller than both Ward and Jake.
“I’ll do it.” Jake pulled the coat down over the side he held.
“Geez, Jake, Leah was married. I’m pretty sure she’s seen a naked man before.” Ward seemed to be enjoying himself at both Leah and Jake’s expense. He was usually busy snarling and being the voice of doom and gloom. “Or have you decided to go sweet on the preacher man?”
Jake didn’t dignify Ward’s comments with an answer. “I swear Ward, I’m going to strike you dead unless God does it first.” Leah hissed. “Banks is standing right here.” Indeed he was. His bright blue eyes looked between the three men and Leah with concerned fascination. “Take your stuff to my room sweetie, you can sleep with me tonight.” She knew she wouldn’t be in her bed this night and it was freezing in the loft. “Take Dodger with you.”
Between the two of them Jake and Ward managed to get the heavy coat off, and followed that with a black frock coat. They held him up and looked at Leah. With a sigh she attacked his shirt. “Sit him down on the bed so I can get those clothes off.”
“Woohoo!” Another cold draft of air accompanied Bettina’s arrival. Leah didn’t bother unbuttoning the preacher’s shirt, instead she jerked it, and the thick undershirt beneath, over his head.
“For heaven’s sake Leah, what are you doing to our minister?” Bettina cried out from the hallway.
Leah looked down. Blood gushed from his wound. In her haste to remove his clothing, she’d torn off the bandage frozen to his skin. Dang it all! Leah moved quickly to stop the flow of blood. She refused to let another man die under her care.
THREE
“P lease God…I can’t do this. Not again.” Leah stood in the doorway, looking in on her patient. How long she had stood there she couldn’t say. She needed to move, to do something else for him. But what? Her grandmother’s cuckoo clock, which hung between Banks’s room—
no Pastor Key’s room
—and the parlor, popped out of its tiny door and announced the time with twelve quick repetitions of its song. The door to its house snapped shut and the clock resumed its steady tick-tick-tick. Outside the wind still howled and tiny shards of ice pelted against the windows along the back of the house. Behind her she heard the softly comforting breathing of her son as he slept. Dodger lay at the foot of the bed, gently snoring in time with Banks.
The scene before her was not so peaceful. Pastor Key had been lucky, according to Jake. The bullet had gone straight through, evident when they found the exit woundin his back. It hadn’t been too difficult to get the bleeding stopped, even though she was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers, what with Bettina telling her everything she did was wrong and Gus wringing his hands at the new minister’s unexpected arrival and impending death. Thank goodness they’d both gone home, and Ward soon after them.
She’d done all she could for the wound. The trouble was, she didn’t know what more she could do for the fever. Her patient wrenched his head back and forth on the pillow with jerking motions. She could only imagine that he was lost in dreams of some sort, brought on by the fever.
Jake came through the back door with another load of firewood and Leah ran to push the door shut behind him. “You don’t have to do
“Banks. Stuff. Dodger. Out.” Everything was happening too fast. There were six bodies in the room, countingDodger. Jake, Ward and their burden seemed impossibly big in such a small space. It was all too much. More than she could handle.
“Let’s get these clothes off of him or he’ll wind up soaking the bed when he thaws out,” Ward said. “We’ll hold him and you strip him.” The preacher was propped between the two men with his head lolling forward, oblivious to everything. Even bent over as he was, Leah could see that he was taller than both Ward and Jake.
“I’ll do it.” Jake pulled the coat down over the side he held.
“Geez, Jake, Leah was married. I’m pretty sure she’s seen a naked man before.” Ward seemed to be enjoying himself at both Leah and Jake’s expense. He was usually busy snarling and being the voice of doom and gloom. “Or have you decided to go sweet on the preacher man?”
Jake didn’t dignify Ward’s comments with an answer. “I swear Ward, I’m going to strike you dead unless God does it first.” Leah hissed. “Banks is standing right here.” Indeed he was. His bright blue eyes looked between the three men and Leah with concerned fascination. “Take your stuff to my room sweetie, you can sleep with me tonight.” She knew she wouldn’t be in her bed this night and it was freezing in the loft. “Take Dodger with you.”
Between the two of them Jake and Ward managed to get the heavy coat off, and followed that with a black frock coat. They held him up and looked at Leah. With a sigh she attacked his shirt. “Sit him down on the bed so I can get those clothes off.”
“Woohoo!” Another cold draft of air accompanied Bettina’s arrival. Leah didn’t bother unbuttoning the preacher’s shirt, instead she jerked it, and the thick undershirt beneath, over his head.
“For heaven’s sake Leah, what are you doing to our minister?” Bettina cried out from the hallway.
Leah looked down. Blood gushed from his wound. In her haste to remove his clothing, she’d torn off the bandage frozen to his skin. Dang it all! Leah moved quickly to stop the flow of blood. She refused to let another man die under her care.
THREE
“P lease God…I can’t do this. Not again.” Leah stood in the doorway, looking in on her patient. How long she had stood there she couldn’t say. She needed to move, to do something else for him. But what? Her grandmother’s cuckoo clock, which hung between Banks’s room—
no Pastor Key’s room
—and the parlor, popped out of its tiny door and announced the time with twelve quick repetitions of its song. The door to its house snapped shut and the clock resumed its steady tick-tick-tick. Outside the wind still howled and tiny shards of ice pelted against the windows along the back of the house. Behind her she heard the softly comforting breathing of her son as he slept. Dodger lay at the foot of the bed, gently snoring in time with Banks.
The scene before her was not so peaceful. Pastor Key had been lucky, according to Jake. The bullet had gone straight through, evident when they found the exit woundin his back. It hadn’t been too difficult to get the bleeding stopped, even though she was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers, what with Bettina telling her everything she did was wrong and Gus wringing his hands at the new minister’s unexpected arrival and impending death. Thank goodness they’d both gone home, and Ward soon after them.
She’d done all she could for the wound. The trouble was, she didn’t know what more she could do for the fever. Her patient wrenched his head back and forth on the pillow with jerking motions. She could only imagine that he was lost in dreams of some sort, brought on by the fever.
Jake came through the back door with another load of firewood and Leah ran to push the door shut behind him. “You don’t have to do
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