Brides of Iowa (38 page)

Understanding finally broke through. The voice belonged to Hannah Vogel, the doctor’s wife. Most people just called her Mrs. Doc. Along with the realization of who ministered to him came the horrific memory of crawling through the burning boardinghouse. Shred by shred, the picture came together.

Footsteps scurried away from where he lay, and he heard Mrs. Doc’s voice again. “Mr. Behr is awake.” Heavier footsteps accompanied those of the town doctor’s diminutive wife.

“Hubert? It’s Doc Vogel. Can you hear me?”

Hubert fought past the pain and tried to force his lips to work. Was there enough air in his lungs to push a single word out? “P…P…” He reached deep within himself for the determination to speak. The word came out as a hoarse whisper. “Pearl.”

The doctor’s fingers forced one of Hubert’s eyes open, then the other. The air stung his eyes and they watered, blurring the image of the doctor. “Let’s take a listen.” Doc laid an instrument on Hubert’s chest and moved it around several times before he seemed satisfied.

“Mm-hm. Mm-hm.” Doc thumped his fingertips on Hubert’s chest. “Has he coughed yet?”

Mrs. Doc answered in the negative. “But he has swallowed a few sips of water.”

“Good. Let’s sit him up.” The two pairs of hands grasped his arms and shoulders and pulled him forward. His head swam, and the cot on which he lay floated like a leaf on an air current. Hubert opened his eyes again, tiny slits, enough to see Doc and Mrs. Doc standing on either side of him. Mrs. Doc moved to stuff pillows behind him. Then they leaned him back on the pillows and after several moments, the room stopped swaying like a runaway stagecoach.

“Pearl.” It hurt to even whisper, but his concern for Pearl outdistanced his own discomfort.

“Hubert, I want you to try and cough. It’s going to hurt, but you need to expel that bad air in your lungs. We don’t want you developing pneumonia.”

Why wouldn’t Doc tell him about Pearl?

Hubert commanded his eyes to open as wide as he could make them. He wrapped his fingers around Doc’s wrist. “Pearl.”

Doc’s grave expression sent shards of fear through him. “She’s in the next room. She hasn’t awakened yet. I’m afraid she took in quite a bit of smoke, and she has a few burns on her arm and hand.”

Hubert tightened his grip involuntarily, and the doctor’s expression softened. “If she wakes up in the next few hours, and if we can get her to sit up and cough like we are trying to do with you, I’ll have a better idea of her prognosis. But right now, the best one I can give you is
guarded.
”

Hubert gave the doctor a nod. Even the muscles in his neck and shoulders ached. A cough climbed up his tortured windpipe. He tried to hold it back, but it burst forth with lancing pain. Once he started coughing, he couldn’t stop and the spasms wracked his chest. Perspiration collected on his face. Mrs. Doc continued to blot the damp cloth over his brow until the throes of coughing subsided. Exhausted, he leaned back against the pillows.

Doc Vogel listened to Hubert’s chest again. “I know it hurts, but you need to cough.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to Hubert’s cot. “You probably have some questions, and since speaking is difficult, I’m going to guess what those questions are and answer them the best I can.”

Hubert locked eyes with the doctor, hoping to communicate his concern over Pearl. He remembered finding her but not pulling her out of the house. How had they gotten out? “Nobody knows yet how the fire started, but the sheriff is still poking around over there. You and Mrs. Dunnigan were both unconscious when you were pulled out. The flames broke through the wall, and the place was starting to collapse.” Doc leaned forward and put his hand on Hubert’s shoulder. “If it wasn’t for your son pulling both of you out of there when he did, we’d be burying you today. He pulled you out first, then went back in for Miss Pearl. He even had the presence of mind to roll her in a rug. Otherwise, her burns would have been much worse.”

Everett pulled Pearl and me out? I didn’t even realize he’d followed me into the house.
With the memory of the harrowing trek through the smoke-filled boardinghouse, more pieces fell into place. He recalled hearing something thump behind him. Was that Everett?

The idea of Everett saving not only his life but Pearl’s as well, sank in. With the realization came fear for his son’s condition. “Ever–ett.” He pushed out the hoarse croak.

Doc Vogel’s brow knitted into furrows. “He has some pretty nasty burns. Before the laudanum took effect, he kept asking if he had gotten to you and Mrs. Dunnigan in time.”

More coughing seized Hubert, and he fought his way through the spasm. “How bad…Everett?”

Doc shook his head. “Well, he didn’t swallow too much smoke because he’d tied a wet rag over his mouth and nose. Unfortunately, parts of his clothing caught fire when the ceiling caved in. I’m not going to lie to you, some of his burns are serious. But if we can keep infection from setting in, he has a good chance.”

Hubert slumped back onto the pillows. Everett saved his and Pearl’s lives at the risk of his own. It was a staggering revelation. But Doc continued to fill in the blanks.

“One of the men who helped fight the fire said Mrs. Dunnigan had come out, but then she ran back in before anyone could stop her. When your son pulled her out of the house, she had a silver music box in her hands. I had to pry her fingers away from it.”

Her head throbbed and wracking pain filled her chest and throat, but Pearl opened her eyes to find a small mountain of pillows behind her back and shoulders, and Hannah Vogel bathing her face. As soon as the doctor’s wife realized Pearl was awake, a huge smile split her face. “Oh, thank the good Lord. We’ve been praying for you for two days.” The woman hurried to the doorway and called her husband, then returned to Pearl’s bedside.

Doc Vogel’s smile matched his wife’s when he saw Pearl. “You certainly gave us a scare, young lady.” He immediately poked the ends of his stethoscope into his ears and listened to her chest.

Young lady? Mercy sakes, who did he think he was talking to? She started to open her mouth, but the doctor stopped her.

“No, no. Don’t try to speak.” He flipped the stethoscope around his neck. “You suffered some burns in your throat from breathing in the hot air. The smoke caused some damage, too. You’ve already coughed up some blood. That’s why we have you propped up like this.”

He motioned for his wife to bring a lamp closer, and he stuck a piece of flat wood in her mouth. The doctor frowned and made some grunting sounds as he peered inside. “Well, your throat is still swollen, but it’s showing signs of healing. Until it heals completely, I don’t want you to talk at all. Drink sips of water, as much as you can, and Hannah will help you gargle with some salt water later.” He patted her shoulder.

When she tried to raise her arm, a sharp pain jolted her, and she noticed the bandages on her left hand and arm. Doc Vogel partially unwrapped one of the bandages and peered beneath it. “The burns aren’t too serious. In a few days you won’t need the bandages any longer. I’m more concerned with the burns in your throat.” He gently replaced the swathing around her hand.

Pearl tried to mouth words, but the doctor kept admonishing her to keep silent. She held up her hands, palms facing each other, a few inches apart, and Hannah brightened.

“I think I know what she wants.” The woman went to a small bureau and opened the top drawer. When she turned, she had Pearl’s music box in her hands. “Is this it?”

Relief filled her. The box looked a bit tarnished but otherwise unscathed. She reached out for the cherished treasure.

“You have a couple of visitors. Mr. Behr has been in the next room asking about you ever since he regained consciousness yesterday.”

The peculiar statement took Pearl aback. Hubert regained consciousness? Puzzlement must have shown on her face because Mrs. Doc hurriedly explained that Hubert was pulled out of the burning boardinghouse along with her. It still didn’t make sense.

Doc Vogel instructed his wife to give Pearl sips of water, as much as she would take. Then he turned back to Pearl. “The sheriff has been waiting to talk to you. He can tell you everything that happened, at least what he knows so far. Do you feel up to a visit with him?”

Confusion boggled her mind. She vaguely remembered the fire but didn’t recall Hubert being there. Why were they telling her Hubert had been pulled from the burning house? Was he all right? And why did the sheriff want to speak with her?

Doc Vogel went to the door and motioned with his hand. Sheriff Webster stepped into the room and removed his hat. He was a pleasant sort, and although he’d only been in Willow Creek for a little over a year, she knew Hubert liked him.

“Ma’am. I’m sure pleased to see you doin’ better, and I apologize for intrudin’ like this while you’re recoverin’.”

The doctor brought a chair for the sheriff to sit next to Pearl’s cot and waggled a warning finger at the lawman. “I don’t want you upsetting her or tiring her out. She is not allowed to speak. If you have a question that she can’t answer by nodding or shaking her head, it’ll have to wait.”

“Is she allowed to write?”

Doc scowled. “If it’s absolutely necessary.” He told his wife to find a tablet and pencil, then turned back to the sheriff. “My wife is going to stay in here, and if she thinks Miss Pearl needs to rest, your visit is over.”

Sheriff Webster agreed. “This shouldn’t take too long. Mrs. Dunnigan, I do have a few questions.”

Frustration seethed inside her. She had some questions, too, and as soon as Hannah Vogel put paper and pencil in her hands, she intended to ask them.

“First of all, do you have any idea how the fire started?” Pearl shook her head.

“Were you inside the house when you realized it was on fire?”

She nodded. Hannah finally reentered the room with paper and pencil, and handed them to Pearl.

“Did you notice anyone hangin’ around the boardinghouse?”

Pearl started writing, but her pencil scrawls had nothing to do with the sheriff’s question.
“Why was Hubert unconscious? What was he doing there?”
She handed the tablet to the sheriff.

“Well, he went into the house after you. He was hollerin’ your name.” The sheriff gave her a tiny half smile. “Only a crazy man would run into a burnin’ house, unless he’s lookin’ for someone. In that case, I reckon he’s in love.”

She reached for the tablet and scribbled another question.
“Is he all right?”
When she shoved the paper back at the sheriff, he nodded and widened his smile.

“I reckon so. I was just talkin’ to him a little bit ago. Funny, he keeps askin’ the same question about you.”

Relief washed over her. Her Hubert had risked his life trying to save her. Thank God he was all right.

“Ma’am? Do you mind if I ask some of my questions now, ’fore Doc comes back in here and throws me out?”

Hannah snickered over in the corner as she poured fresh water into a cup. Pearl nodded at the sheriff, blinking back grateful tears.

“Ma’am, did you happen to notice Everett Behr anywhere around the boardinghouse that morning?”

She nodded.

The lawman frowned. “You did. Do you know what he was doin’?”

She nodded again and picked up the pencil.
“Came to see me.”

A peculiar expression fell across Sheriff Webster’s face. “Did he threaten you in any way?”

Pearl shook her head. What was this about? Everett might not like her, but she was fairly certain he’d never physically harm her.

“When he came to see you, what did he want?”

She set the pencil in motion again.
“Apologized and said good-bye.”

The sheriff rubbed his bristly chin and chewed on his lip for a moment. Before he could ask Pearl to expound on her statement, she scratched out another note.
“Find Silas Cain.”
She nudged the note toward the sheriff and Hannah gently suggested that Pearl needed to rest and he could come back tomorrow. She shooed him out the door. After the woman gave Pearl a few sips of water, she told her to rest and slipped out, leaving the door ajar. The voices of Sheriff Webster and Doc Vogel drifted into the room from the hallway.

“How much do you know about Everett Behr?”

Doc harrumphed. “He’s Hubert’s son. Lived back East, Baltimore, I think. He’s been in town for about a month or so. Why?”

“What else do you know about him? Did he have any disagreements with anyone?”

Pearl heard Doc snort. “Only if you count Hubert and Pearl. I don’t think he knew any other folks hereabouts. But some say he came to Willow Creek to stop the wedding between his father and Miss Pearl.”

“That a fact?”

“Fact? I can’t attest to any gossip I hear being fact. But there is one thing I know for sure: Shortly after Everett Behr arrived in town, Pearl and Hubert stopped seeing each other.”

Pearl wished she could see the men’s faces. What was the sheriff getting at? As if he could read her thoughts through the wall that separated them, Sheriff Webster spoke again.

“There’s rumors afoot that maybe Everett Behr set the fire. I talked with a few folks who gave me statements that the young fella didn’t especially like Mrs. Dunnigan. Some say he was the reason she and Hubert Behr cancelled their weddin’. What I can’t figure out is why.”