She reached for the sheet covering his wounded leg, but he snatched it out of her hands. “Nay. Best not.”
“Is it that bad?”
He used his other hand to point to a pile of clothing on the floor. “Doc doesnae cut the clothes off or make any attempt to protect one’s modesty.”
“Too much trouble,” said the doctor as he walked up to them.
“Julia?” Abigail asked warily, worried that he was back so soon, and felt the sting of tears in her eyes when he shook his head.
“I am sorry, Abbie. It happens sometimes. I examined her and she is badly torn up inside. Something must have just given out. She is desperate to speak to you, however.” When Abbie frowned and looked at Matthew, he added, “I’ll watch this fool.”
“Fool?” Matthew grumbled, but they both ignored him.
“Go, Abbie. There is not much time left and she was very adamant about talking to you.”
Abbie stood, lightly kissed Matthew, and then hurried away. She hated to leave him, wounded and bedridden as he was, but he was not dying. This time her friend truly did take precedence and she could be sure of the reason because the doctor had told her.
“The woman is dying?” asked Matthew.
The doctor nodded. “Bleeding to death. The strange thing is she talks to her dead husband.”
“Abbie said that. She kept going out to his grave to talk with him.”
“Which was probably enough to start her bleeding. Gave me a chill when she talked to him because she acted as if she could see him at her side.”
“Weel, maybe she finds comfort in that wee dream.”
“I find myself hoping that it is more than a dream.”
He checked Abbie’s stitching and then grinned. “This will leave an interesting scar.”
“What does it look like? Abbie looked as if she was going to smile, too.”
“You are going to have a big grin on your belly. It is placed very nicely beneath your belly button. Tattoo on a couple of eyes and you’d have a whole face there.” He laughed.
“Ha. Funny mon. And what the hell is your name anyway?”
The doctor blinked. “Harvey Deacon Pettibone the Third.”
Matthew shook his head. “Eastern nobility.”
“And always a doctor. One in every generation. When are you going to marry that girl?”
“Abbie?” He blushed at the disgusted look the doctor gave him. “I dinnae ken.”
“Coward.”
“About that? Aye, straight down to the bone.” He smiled faintly when the doctor laughed.
* * *
Abbie slowed her step as she approached Julia’s bed in the cell. She had run all the way from the infirmary but her step had lagged once she reached the door of the jail. She had nursed a spark of hope all the way to the jail but it had begun to die as she neared the place. Now it completely died. The scent of death lingered over Julia and she was as pale as any still living person Abbie had ever seen.
“Thank you for getting the doctor to come,” said Julia as she tried to hold out her child to Abbie. “Please, take him.”
Taking the child, Abbie held him cradled in one arm and sat on the edge of the bed to clasp Julia’s cold hand. “The doctor said you were anxious to talk to me.”
“Yes. I know I am dying and there is something I have to settle before I go join my Robert.” She shook her head when Abbie started to speak. “No, I know the truth, Abbie. The doctor was very kind, but he did not try to hide the truth from me. I want you to raise my boy. Take him. He will be an orphan soon. You will do that, won’t you?”
