Miracle Jones (23 page)

Nearby a woman implored softly, “Protect us, oh Lord, from diphtheria.”

A murmur swept through the crowd, each person repeating his own version of the same prayer.
Two of the Cullen children had died, two more were sick, and the fate of the rest of the family was on everyone’s mind.
A prevailing fear had infected the men and women who had come to pay their last respects to Eliza, but Harrison felt nothing but emptiness.

“It’s time to leave,” Lexie murmured, touching his arm.

Harrison glanced at her, then at his brothers.
Tremaine was calm, sober, and silently comforting, his arm around Lexie’s shoulder.
Samuel, who’d received a telegram at his Portland office the day before, had arrived too late to say good-bye.
Now he stared into the open grave in blank desperation.

No one had been able to locate Jesse.

“Come on, Pa,” Lexie said, taking hold of their father’s arm.
Though Joseph was no more her father than Eliza had been Tremaine’s mother, everyone accepted that they were a family.
The Danners.
Tough, proud, invincible.
Except that Eliza had died.

Seeing the dazed, uncomprehending look on his father’s face, Harrison stepped forward, guiding him toward the waiting carriage.

“She’s gone,” Joseph said in bewilderment.
“She’s gone.”

“I know.”

“I’ve buried two wives, Harrison.
Two.
No man should live that long.”

“Please get in the carriage, Pa,” Harrison said gently, helping him up the one small step.
He didn’t like the way his father had been talking these past few days.
Since Eliza’s death, he seemed more interested in dying than in carrying on.

Harrison glanced over his shoulder and saw the lone figure of a woman wearing a thin gray coat, black hair whipping in the wind, proud straight shoulders.
Miracle!
He felt an overwhelming desire to run to her and drag her into his arms.
The urge was strong, primal.

He actually took a step toward her before he realized it was someone else.
She didn’t bear any resemblance to Miracle at all, except for her hair.
Footsteps squished on the muddy grass behind him.

“Harrison?” a woman’s voice said tentatively.

He turned automatically.
It was Isabella, staring at him through huge blue eyes, her blond hair lush and thick, her black bombazine dress clinging to every curve.
Only a worn weariness about her testified to the hard life she’d suffered after their romance had ended.
Her no-good gambling husband had left her flat broke with a young child to take care of.

But the choice had been hers, Harrison reminded himself, as he recognized the look on her face as a plea for forgiveness and maybe even a small hope that they might start over.

Gazing down at her, he realized he felt nothing.

Her expression changed as she sensed his disinterest.
In a harder voice, she said, “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, unable to speak, and climbed into the carriage beside the other members of his family.

The coach bumped away from the tiny private graveyard at the west end of the Danner property.
Their driver, a neighbor who had kindly offered to help out, took them directly home.
As the carriage pulled up in front of the Danner home, Harrison’s throat constricted.
Above the portico was the widow’s walk.
His mother’s favorite place – Eliza’s folly, as his father fondly referred to it.
To know she would never walk out there again nearly broke Harrison’s tight control.

They walked into the parlor.
The room seemed dark and devastatingly bleak.
The only touches of color were what Eliza had added – the golden pink pillows, the plush rose carpet covering the rectangle of floor between the couch and chairs, the green and fuchsia needlepoint stool.

Mrs.
Mead stepped into the room.
“The boys are in the kitchen with Cook.
Do you want me to bring them in?”

“Not yet,” said Tremaine.
“Give us a few minutes.”

“I’ll go to them,” Lexie decided, shooting a concerned glance at her father’s bowed head before gathering her skirts and swishing down the narrow hallway.

Harrison’s gaze followed after her.
She was strong.
She had to be to fight down the prejudices of being a woman in a man’s world.
Now it seemed incredible that the people of Rock Springs had once preferred Doc Meechum’s drunken animal doctoring to relying on any woman, but Lexie had convinced them otherwise.
With her, Harrison had built a reputation and a practice.
Together they’d changed the townsfolks’ minds about letting a woman treat their animals.
It had been a fine, satisfying occupation, and he’d planned to do it forever.

So why now did it seem so empty, so meaningless?
Eliza’s death was so wrong, Harrison thought with impotent fury.
He ached inside for her.

He glanced at his father.
Joseph Danner sat crumpled in a chair.
White-faced.
Broken.
Where was the staunch, courageous man who had saved his wife’s life once before?
Where was the man who’d defended his family with a Winchester, facing death rather than their defeat?

Harrison’s brother Samuel, who had been standing by the fireplace, drew a deep breath and stalked out of the stuffy, confined room.
Harrison, as stifled as Samuel, followed him outside.
Breathing deeply, Harrison felt the bandages tighten around his ribs, and then a twinge of pain suddenly jolted through his right arm.
The damned thing hadn’t troubled him for the last five years, but since the beginning of this day it had shot needles of hot pain through the scar tissue that bound his arm to his shoulder.
It shouldn’t hurt, he reckoned.
But all day it had throbbed – a living memory to the woman who’d been the reason for it in the first place.

Eliza Smythe Gainsborough Danner had been an unusual woman.
Harrison had sustained his injury trying, like Pa and Tremaine and Lexie, to save her life from that miserable scum Ramsey Gainsborough, Eliza’s first husband.
It seemed the cruelest irony that now, ten years after the debacle that had nearly killed Tremaine and permanently handicapped Harrison, Eliza could be taken by disease.

Tremaine came out to stand beside Samuel and him.
They were all silent, comfortable in each other’s presence, attuned to each other’s grief.
Eventually, Tremaine turned to Harrison and asked, “Are you going to see Kelsey?”

“I told her I’d come by after the funeral.”

“So you’re leaving for the Garretts’ right now?”

Harrison was annoyed at Tremaine’s perception.
No, he didn’t plan to go now.
He felt too restless.
He wanted to see Miracle.
“I was thinking of going to Rock Springs first.”

Tremaine arched a brow.
“Kelsey’s probably expecting you.”

“I know.” His voice was surprisingly bitter.

“Then you’re not going to see her?” Samuel inserted cautiously.

“No.”

Tremaine sighed.
“Damn it all to hell, Harrison.
No matter what we all think of Jace, Kelsey deserves to be treated better.”

Harrison’s mouth curved in self-deprecation.
“I know that, too,” he said, and strode away to the stables for Triumph – and Miracle.

Chapter Ten

Miracle stood in the center of the empty store, her thoughts far removed from Uncle Horace’s unbridled enthusiasm.
Eliza Danner had died.
That was why Harrison hadn’t been to Rock Springs.

“…and we can set up shelves here,” Uncle Horace said, pointing to the back wall.
“Nothin’ very fancy.
Can’t afford it.
But it’ll be a start.” He made a sound of surprise.
“I almost forgot.
You got a letter from Emily, sent general delivery to Rock Springs.
I picked it up when I sent off to my man in Minnesota this mornin’.” He pulled a tattered envelope from his pocket.

Miracle surfaced from her miserable thoughts.
“Aunt Emily sent a letter?”

“Uh-huh.” He handed it to her, then turned back to his appreciation of the tiny store, his chest swelling with pride in advance of ownership.

Miracle tore open the envelope.
She read the short message through, then read it again, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“Uncle Horace!
Aunt Emily says my brother Blue came to see her!”

“What?” Uncle Horace spun around, shocked.

“That’s what she said!
He stopped by the house, asking about me.
He wants to see me!”

“I don’t believe it.” Uncle Horace glared at the letter as if it were somehow offensive on its own.
“Let me see.”

Miracle held out the envelope with an unsteady arm.
Her missing brother, Blue, had apparently turned up on Emily’s doorstep, insisting he must see her.
He’d learned from the same tribe of the Chinooks in Clatsop County, the tribe of Little Rain and White Rapids, that his younger sister was searching for her father.
Apparently he was as interested in finding Miracle as she was in finding her father.
He was searching for her now.

Blast!
How was she supposed to feel about this savage brother who’d once tried to cut out her heart?

“I don’t understand how this could happen,” Miracle said blankly.

Uncle Horace glanced up, frowning as he saw her white face.
“Oh, Emily’s an old fussbudget.” He sniffed derisively.
“It’s probably not even true.”

“Of course it’s true!
Emily doesn’t lie.”

“Then she just got mixed up,” he insisted.
“Blue’s not comin’ after you.”

She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, that he knew as well as she did Emily would never alarm her unless there was good reason.
No, if Emily said Blue was searching for Miracle, then Blue was searching for Miracle.
Uncle Horace just wasn’t facing the facts.

“The letter’s dated nearly two months ago,” Miracle reflected.
“Blue could be here by now.”

“He won’t come,” Uncle Horace predicted.
“He’s too wild.
Never stuck to anything.”

“How do you know?”

“He came through town a time or two after your mother died.
I never saw him, just heard tales.” He shook his head.
“He’s no good.”

“You think he wants to find my father, too?”

“Only if he could wheedle some money out of the bastard.
Might be the best thing all around if Blue did show up.
Give your father a real scare, he would!” He chuckled to himself.
“Come on, let’s get back to the wagon and start unpacking.”

As Miracle and Uncle Horace boxed up their worldly goods, Miracle’s thoughts churned back and forth between the shock of learning Blue was looking for her and the despair of learning Eliza Danner had died.
She and Uncle Horace were about half done and were in the midst of dragging several heavy boxes across the wagon floor when she heard a knock on the closed back doors.
She cracked the left door and peered out cautiously.

“Harrison!”

He gave her a faint smile beneath the low brim of a rain-dampened Stetson.
Had she not already heard about Eliza, she would have known something was terribly wrong.
His face was somber and tense, and the dark circles surrounding his eyes spoke of sleepless nights.
He’d been recovering from his knife wound when they parted – been nearly recovered, in fact.
Unless he’d had a major relapse, the ravages she now witnessed were from grief.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, stepping down into the soft rain.

“You heard.” He drew a slow breath, emotion flickering briefly across his face.
Then he glanced past her into the wagon and encountered Uncle Horace’s interested stare.

“This is my uncle, Horace Jones.” She introduced him quickly, shooting her uncle a steely blue glance meant to quell any comment he might be thinking of making.
“You met the other night.”

Uncle Horace frowned.
“I don’t remember meeting Mr.
– uh – Dr.
Danner before.”

“You wouldn’t,” Miracle said with asperity.
“It was the night I found you.”

“Ah.” He had the grace to look slightly sheepish.

“So you’re Miracle’s missing uncle,” Harrison said with a forced smile.
“Glad to see you survived.”

“Hmmm.” Uncle Horace was reserving judgment.

“We’ve moved into this building.” Miracle jumped in quickly, gesturing to the vacant space.
“And there’re rooms above.
I’m hoping we’ll be able to pay you back by the end of the week.
Or maybe next week.”

“I’m in no hurry,” he answered distantly.
It was clear his mind wasn’t on the present.
Then he glanced down at her in a way that made Miracle’s breath catch in her throat.
“Would you like to get something to eat?”

Miracle’s heart pounded unevenly.
She glanced at Uncle Horace.
“I have a lot of work to do.”

Uncle Horace made shooing motions.
“Go.”

“We could eat at Garrett’s Hotel.
My treat,” Harrison added when she opened her mouth to protest.

Miracle gazed down at her dusty, worn clothing.
She looked forlorn and bedraggled and would be terribly out of place in the plush dining room.
“Just give me a moment to change.”

Quickly, she climbed back in the wagon, closing the doors behind her.
She could feel Uncle Horace’s knowing eye upon her as she searched for a cleaner shirtwaist, but she studiously ignored him.
Unfolding the dressing screen for some privacy, she pulled a clean white shirtwaist over her head and stepped into a black sateen skirt.

“Be careful,” Uncle Horace warned in a low voice that Harrison wouldn’t be able to overhear as Miracle stepped from behind the screen.
“You don’t want to go the way of your mother.”

“I am
not
my mother!” Miracle dragged a brush through her hair.

“But he could be more like your father than you know.”

She thrust the screen back against the wall with a loud slap, her eyes sparking angrily.
“You were the one who told me to go!” she hissed softly.

“Only because you want to so badly.
Just be careful.”

“We’re having dinner together, that’s all.
He’s engaged to Kelsey Garrett.” She lifted her chin and tried to forget that Kelsey was as gorgeous as she was rich.
“And I’m… not interested anyway!”

Uncle Horace’s silence was damning.
With a painful twist of conscience Miracle realized he knew just how she felt.
She wasn’t fooling anyone.

Grabbing an umbrella and throwing a shawl over her shoulders, she stepped outside to meet Harrison again.

“How’s your family doing?” Miracle asked gently as they dodged puddles on the way to Garrett’s Hotel.

“They’re in shock.”

“Sometimes a little bit of whiskey or brandy helps control shock,” Miracle said earnestly.
“And elevating the feet and adding hot water bottles to the limbs.”

“I think Tremaine can manage, thanks,” he said dryly.

The restaurant was nearly empty.
It was a little too early for dinner.
The waitress was a young girl in a starched white apron.
She nearly dropped her silver pitcher of water when she saw Harrison.
“Excuse me, Dr.
Danner!
We just all thought you’d be at the funeral still, or with your family.” Her face reddened as she heard how much that sounded like a rebuke.

“It’s all right, Mary.
I just decided to get away for a little while.”

“I’m ever so sorry!
You do what’s most comfortable.
We’re all powerful sorry about your ma.
She was a high-class lady.
Real nice, too.”

Harrison didn’t answer, and Miracle’s heart turned over in pain.
She wanted to offer comfort but sensed that the less said the better.

He glanced her way, and she smiled.
Just seeing him again made her blood fairly sing through her veins, and she couldn’t help feeling uplifted that he’d thought her company.
With very little effort she could disbelieve that he was engaged to Kelsey Garrett.

They sat at a corner table, and Miracle, who had always handled herself with fierce independence and pride, was unusually tongue-tied — then was annoyed and angry that this should be so.

“How’s your – injury?” she asked.

He smiled, and she thought no man alive had a right to be so damnably good-looking.
“Nearly healed.
My family wanted to know how it happened and who did it.
Mrs.
Mead was certain you had.”

“What did you tell them?” Her face turned red.

“I said it was an accident.
Then Mother got sicker, so the subject was forgotten.”

She stared at him, her heart so full it ached.
She’d known he was handsome and charming.
Hadn’t she given him all of herself based on just such flimsy qualifications?
But she hadn’t known he was
this
handsome,
this
charming.
His eyes were the most brilliant green she’d ever seen, his teeth white and straight.
There wasn’t a soft line on his face, yet when he grinned at her, like he was doing right now, there was something so appealing, so indefinable and attractive, that Miracle responded in spite of herself.

Little fool,
she warned herself sternly.

“So you’re setting up shop, huh?
No more traveling shaman?”

“I am not a shaman,” she corrected.
“Though Uncle Horace likes to spin that yarn if he thinks it’ll get him a sale.”

“Then you’re a humbug quack?
Like Belinda?”

The insult was said without malice, but Miracle was justly irritated.
“Your brother Tremaine didn’t seem to think so!
He asked me to help your mother.”

Harrison’s gaze fell on the plate of scones that had been set in front of him.
“Nothing could help her,” he said matter-of-factly.
“She caught diphtheria and died.”

Miracle felt terrible.

Harrison face was suddenly wiped clean of all expression.
“So what made you decide to stay?”

“I’m looking for my father,” Miracle told him, anxious to change the subject.
“Uncle Horace decided we might as well set up shop as long as we’re here.”

“Your father lives in Rock Springs?” Harrison asked in surprise.

“Or, maybe he did once.” Sketchily, Miracle explained a bit of her history to him.
“I’ve asked around,” she finished, “but no one seems to know anyone who made regular trips up the Columbia to Clatsop twenty years ago.”

“Twenty years ago,” Harrison murmured reflectively.
“Rock Springs wasn’t much of a town then.” A wry smile crossed his lips.
“I was only about eight.”