He turned...and took in the familiar figure striding toward him, half trotting.
He started toward his cousin, and theymet on the boardwalk between the hotel and the mercantile. Harvey paused to catch his breath.
"What in the world are you doing all the way out here?" Eric asked.
It was surreal, seeing his well-dressed cousin in this frontier town. Most of the men passing by on the street were clad in buckskins and fur coats.
Harvey, on the other hand, wore a wool coat unbuttoned to reveal his suit and string tie. He was clean-shaven as always, with long sideburns and pomade securing every hair in place. He'd freeze out here if he didn't get a better coat with a hood.
Harvey straightened and squared his shoulders, meeting Eric's gaze with pleasure, but also a sadness that made tension knot in Eric’s middle.
"What's wrong?" His cousin wouldn't have traveled all this way unless something awful had happened. "Is it the Carson account? Did they decide to pull?" That was their largest client, and Eric had been the one to finalize the negotiations last year while his father was out recovering from the procedure on his knee.
In fact, the Carson account was the reason Eric had been gone from Naomi for so long that she’d given up on his coming back. His father's leg hadn’t healed the way it should have, and Marcus Carson seemed to prefer dealing with Eric, even more than with his father. Eric had managed to move the discussions along farther than Dad ever had, with Carson finally signing the contract and nearly doubling the revenueandprofits of LaGrange Exports. If Dad had ruined all his work by running Carson off...
But Harvey shook his head, his face sobering. "It's your dad. He's…he’s dying."
A block rammed into Eric’s chest, knocking the air from his lungs and all thought from his mind.
His father? Dying?
"He took ill right after you left. Aunt Mary thought it was just a bad cold with a little bit of fever. But when the doctor came, he said pneumonia had taken hold. He treated him, but his breathing grew worse. Another physician came, he said he has galloping consumption. It's drowning his lungs." Harvey took a step forward, sorrow pooling in his eyes, and gripped Eric’s shoulder. "He only has three or four months left."
Eric's mind turned numb, his body too heavy to move.
Harvey's words repeated over and over. His father? Dying? It was impossible to reconcile. Dad had always been so healthy, so proud of beingin his prime, even at the youthful age of two-and-fifty,as he always said.
The surgery the year before had been the only time he’d needed a doctor as far back as Eric could remember. His recovery had been slower than he'd expected, but hehadrecovered.
How could he have only four months to live? The doctor must be wrong. He had to be.
Eric had to see his father. Speak with the physician. Find a new one, a better one. A doctor who knew the difference between a cold and consumption. Between a hale and hearty man and an invalid at death's door.
"I need to get home. To help him." As the words left his mouth, an image of Naomi slipped into his mind. Those red, pain-filled eyes when she said she was afraid that if he left, he'd never come back.
He'dpromised herhe would return.
He'd not specified that he would come straight back from Fort Benton, but both of them knew that was what he meant.
If he traveled east now—for two and a half months, then stayed away however long he needed to make sure his father received the proper care…
The riverwould freeze.
No way he could get back before it thawed come spring. Early summer at best.
Naomi would be devastated.
But surely she would understand. If her father were dying, Eric would do everything possible to make sure she could be there with him.
A twinge pressed through the numbness in his chest.
When they'd first courted, more than a year and a half before, she'd not seen her parents in years. Their only correspondence was an annual birthday card as they continued their work in New York. She'd said they spent their days advocating for the rights of all who lived in America, regardless of what race or country they hailed from. A noble cause, to be sure, but how could they possibly put other people’s needs so far ahead of those of their two remarkable daughters?
Naomi had never talked much about them, but the few times she had, he'd seen the depth of her pain in her eyes. She would certainly understand this urgent need to be there when his parents needed him most.
Maybe she could go with him. His heart jumped at the idea. She and Mary Ellen could go east with him, and he could introduce his daughter to her grandparents.
But it would take a month to get back to Naomi and gather the two of them. The river would be frozen. How would they ever get east? Whatever the means of travel, it would likely be too dangerous. Far too risky to subject his girls to. Not to mention cold.
