Still, before they did anything, he needed to know about… He pushed the words through the rocks in his throat. “Mandie? And the baby?”
Doc’s expression softened, just a fraction, and some of the tension eased in James’s chest. “Mother and baby are both well. A healthy little girl, born just after midnight. Enoch was near useless through the whole thing, but Mrs. Wang kept everyone fed and calm.”
A girl. Mandie had delivered a girl, and both were safe. The relief that washed through him felt almost as powerful as the pain radiating from his leg.
“That’s good.” He almost managed a smile. “Real good.”
Dr. Morrison nodded, then turned his attention back to James’s leg. “Now let’s see what you’ve done to yourself this time.”
The next hour or so passed in a blur. His brothers and the doctor carrying him in, laying him in the exam room. Doc must have given him more laudanum, for his head turned to that foggy mud he had to fight to pull a thought through. At least the throbbing in his leg faded to a dull ache that was almost bearable compared to what it had been.
Voices drifted around him—Thomas’s low murmur as he spoke with the deputy, Rose’s soft replies to questions someone asked. He caught fragments of conversation, pieces that didn’t quite fit together into a coherent whole.
“…broken in two places now…”
“…stay off it completely…”
“…weeks, maybe months…”
The words should have alarmed him, but the laudanum wrapped everything in cotton, softening the edges until even bad news felt distant and unimportant.
Another voice drifted in with the others. Was that…Bill? His surname wouldn’t come. The man who’d stayed on their ranch, helping with the hay. The last time James had heard that voice…he’d been…drunk.
Now his tone sounded so very sober. Maybe even desperate.
James forced himself to focus on the words.
“…if I’d known, I would never…so sorry… said her family just wanted her back safe…” Bill’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know he was hurting her. Didn’t know about her mama or—” He broke off. “I’m sorry, Miss Prescott. More sorry than I can say.”
James blinked and shifted his head to see the cluster of figures. Rose stood with Thomas and Robert flanking her. The deputy. Bill.
The latter reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wad—bills, folded and crumpled. “You take the money. What’s left of it.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promise.”
Rose’s expression shifted—that gentle steadiness he loved so much making her smile look almost serene. “I don’t want the money, Mr. Carter. Keep it, or use it for something good.” She slid a look toward James. Just a glance, but it fed his soul in ways he’d craved for years. “I have all I need here.”
She turned back to Turner, whose hand had started to tremble.
His throat worked as he swallowed, then he nodded and stuffed the wad back into his coat. “I’ll do that, ma’am. You have my word. And I’m so sorry again. If there’s anything I can do. Ever. You just tell me.”
“I appreciate that.” Rose’s voice carried the weight of everything she’d been through, but also something lighter—hope, maybe, or the beginning of healing.
James let his eyes drift closed again, the laudanum pulling him back toward the depths where the pain couldn’t quite reach him. The voices continued around him, distant now, like he was underwater and they were speaking from the surface.
Then a hand closed around his—small, familiar. Rose’s soft, cool fingers threaded through his, and even through the haze of medicine, the touch anchored him.
He let himself relax, let himself rest in her hold and the peace that only God could bring. The last thing he felt was the sweet brush of Rose’s kiss on his forehead.
CHAPTER 33
At Rose’s first glimpse of the ranch house through the pines, so many emotions flooded her, tightening her throat so she couldn’t have spoken if she tried. Those familiar log walls and steep-pitched roof rising against the mountain backdrop looked more like home than any place she’d ever known.
Two days ago—was it really only two days?—she’d run from this place, convinced James would blame her for Vincent’s poison seeping into his family. Convinced she didn’t deserve the life spreading before her. A gift she had no right to accept.
Now, beside her in the wagon bed, James squeezed her hand. She met his gaze, letting herself sink into that smile—tired as it was—and the love shimmering past the hint of pain that still lingered in his eyes.
They’d stayed one night in Walnut Springs, giving his body a rest before this final leg of the journey home.
This was home. These people her family.
