Brides of Iowa (39 page)

“Why indeed? Pearl Dunnigan is a fine lady. Just about everyone in town loves her.”

A few moments of silence were followed by the sheriff’s voice. “You know anything about Silas Cain?”

“Not much, other than the fact that he lived here years ago. As I recall, he wanted to court Miss Pearl back then, but I don’t think she wanted any part of that.”

Pearl squirmed against her pillows, listening to the exchange.

Doc Vogel continued. “I remember Cain up and left town real sudden. Most folks thought it was kind of strange, seeing as how Cain had asked Miss Pearl to marry him, but one day he was here and the next day he was gone.”

W
hen can I see my son?”

Though still raspy, Hubert’s throat was better. Doc Vogel attributed the improvement to the fact that Hubert had pulled his shirt up over his face to block some of the smoke as he crawled through the burning house.

The doctor’s thick brows bunched together into a shaggy caterpillar hovering over his eyes. “Hubert, I’m glad you’re feeling better, but I let you go home yesterday thinking you could rest better in your own bed. Why aren’t you home in bed?” He held up his hand. “Never mind. I already know the answer. My wife told me she had to shoo you away from Miss Pearl’s door earlier.” He beckoned Hubert toward his office. “Come and let me explain some things.”

Grumbling to himself about simply wanting some answers, Hubert followed Doc to the cramped nook in the corner of what should have been the front parlor in the doctor’s house. Medical books lined the shelf above the desk and neat stacks of papers sat ready for the doctor’s attention. Doc pointed to the chair beside the desk, and Hubert took the cue and sat.

“Doc, all I want is to know how Pearl is doing. When will she wake up? How is Everett? Is there any infection? Is he still—”

“All right, I get the idea.” Doc leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. He pulled off his spectacles and pinched the area between his eyes. “First of all, Miss Pearl is doing as well as can be expected. She has already awakened a few times since yesterday, but she is under strict orders not to speak. Her throat and lungs sustained more damage than yours because she was exposed to the smoke and heat longer, but her breathing is somewhat better today. And like I told you yesterday, she has a few minor burns.”

Relief washed over Hubert at the doctor’s assessment of Pearl’s recovery. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer of gratitude.

Doc added his “amen” to Hubert’s. “We’ve been keeping your son as comfortable as possible with laudanum, which not only takes the edge off his pain but also lets him sleep.” He rubbed a hand across his gray whiskers. “Burns can be pretty difficult to treat. The burned skin must be cleaned off, which is a very painful process.”

Hubert winced involuntarily, empathy cramping his gut at the thought of what his son was enduring. Guilt gnawed at him as he pictured Everett following him into the burning house.

The doctor continued. “There are some who advocate treating burns by holding the burned area as close as possible to the fire until it blisters, then draining the fluid from the blisters to promote healing.” He harrumphed. “I’ve always disagreed with that approach. Besides, most of Everett’s burns were beyond the blister stage anyway.”

Tears stung Hubert’s eyes and his irritated throat constricted. “How long until you know when he will recover?”

Doc Vogel turned compassionate eyes on Hubert, his tone as gentle as a doctor’s could be when delivering words a loved one didn’t want to hear.
“If
he will recover, Hubert. He still must fight off infection. Without skin covering these large wounds, infection can set in very easily. Daily cleaning and removal of burned flesh, along with applying a carbolic acid salve, will give him the best chance. But it’s going to take a miracle for him to pull through this without infection.”

The weight of Doc’s words slammed into Hubert, stealing his breath.
Father in heaven, please don’t ask me to say good-bye to my son this way.

“Can I see him? Sit with him?”

The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hubert. Since we’re trying to prevent infection, it would be best if as few people as possible go near him just now.”

A tap on the door drew their attention, and Mrs. Doc poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but the sheriff is here looking for Mr. Behr.”

Hubert nodded and as he rose, Doc stopped him. “Hubert, in another day or two, I’ll let you go in and see your son—when he’s a little more stable.”

Hubert clasped Doc’s hand. “You said we need a miracle. That’s just what we’ll pray for.” He followed Hannah Vogel out to the front porch where he found Sheriff Webster leaning against the porch railing. The two men greeted each other.

The lawman took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair. “Mrs. Doc tells me that Miss Pearl is doin’ some better today.”

Hubert nodded. “I’ve only gotten to see her once for a few minutes, but she was asleep.” The sooner he found out what the sheriff wanted, the sooner he could go sit with Pearl again. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

Webster hooked his thumbs in his belt and studied Hubert. “I need to know if you can vouch for your son’s whereabouts before the fire broke out.”

Hubert raised his eyebrows. “We had breakfast together, then I left the house to go open the mercantile. He still had to pack a few more things. I told him to use the wagon to take his trunk and bag to the depot. The stage wasn’t due in until ten o’clock.”

The sheriff’s poker face revealed nothing, but past experience being on the other side of the investigation process told Hubert there was more to the man’s question.

He coughed and cleared his throat. “What’s this about, Sheriff?”

The man pulled a bandana from his back pocket and wiped the inside band of his hat. “Well Hubert, it’s no secret that your son doesn’t like Miss Pearl. I’m tryin’ to determine just how much he doesn’t like her. There’s been some talk…purely speculation, mind you, but I’m obliged to follow up on it.”

Hubert pulled on his most professional investigator air. “Gossip is never a reliable source, as you well know. Investigations are based on facts. So let me remind you of a few facts.” He raised his pointer finger. “Fact number one: Everett was at the depot when the fire started.”

“Nope.” Webster shook his head. “He was at the depot when the fire was
discovered.
We don’t know how long it had been burning.”

Hubert nodded. “All right, but let me remind you of fact number two: He was just as shocked as I was when people started yelling that the boardinghouse was on fire. Thirdly, he ran into that burning house, and finally, he not only pulled me out, he pulled Pearl out as well. Doc Vogel said he rolled her in a rug. Otherwise she would have been burned much worse. Does that sound like the actions of an arsonist?”

Webster nodded. “Yep, I’m takin’ all that into consideration. But it’s also a fact that shortly after Everett came to town, you and Miss Pearl broke off your engagement.”

Nobody needed to remind Hubert of the painful truth, but he kept his stoneface intact. “If you’re insinuating that Everett caused the cancellation of the wedding, why would that make him a suspect in the fire?” The exchange was edging too close for Hubert to maintain his cool poise, and the tension made him cough. “What you’re suggesting is preposterous. He saved Pearl’s life, and mine, and was burned in the process.” He gritted his teeth and fought to control the anger and anxiety colliding in his chest.

Webster scratched his head and slapped his hat in place. “For what it’s worth, I tend to agree with you. Was Everett’s purpose in comin’ to Willow Creek to stop the weddin’? If so, then why would he try to hurt Miss Pearl if the engagement was off?” He stuffed the bandana back in his pocket. “Makes no sense, but I have to ask, especially since Pearl herself told me that Everett was at the boardinghouse about an hour before the fire.”

“What?” Hubert struggled through another coughing spasm. “When did she tell you this?” He tossed his professional posture to the wind.

“Yesterday.” The sheriff pulled a folded paper from his shirt pocket. “When I asked her why he was there, she wrote this.” He held out the missive.

Hubert unfolded the paper and scanned it. “‘Came to see me. Apologized and said good-bye.’” As he stared at Pearl’s handwriting, it blurred and he sucked in a breath. “He went to apologize to Pearl?” He allowed his gaze to wander toward the door that led to where Everett lay unconscious. “What was he apologizing for?”

“The lady didn’t say.” He tucked the folded paper back into his shirt pocket. “Just so you know, I wanted to question Silas Cain, too.”

Hubert yanked his attention back to the lawman. “So did you?”

“Would have.” Webster pushed away from the porch railing. “He left on the westbound stage the day of the fire.”

“He left?” Hands on hips, Hubert weighed this bit of information against another piece of news, unsure of whether to share it with the sheriff. Discomfort made him shuffle his feet. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Cain came into the mercantile a few days ago. He told me he’d asked Pearl to marry him.”

Webster’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

“That’s what he said. I had gone to see Pearl one evening last week, and while she and I were talking in the kitchen, Cain came out and asked if I was bothering her.” Hubert rolled the entire scenario over in his mind. “Then the day before the fire, Cain came into the store and told me he’d proposed to her. As I recall, he didn’t come in to buy anything. It was as if his mission was to inform me that he had a claim on Pearl.”

He and Webster stared at each other. “Doesn’t it seem odd to you that Cain would leave town without coming to see Pearl or even attempting to find out how the woman he planned to marry is doing?”

A vague awareness of not being alone stirred Pearl’s consciousness. Did she hear a voice?

“Pearl, my love, I’m here. I will always be here. Nothing can keep me away.”

She tried to swallow, but the pain in her throat reminded her where she was, and why. Sunlight from the nearby window coaxed her eyes open. The first image that captured her vision was Hubert, sitting by her cot with his knees pressed as close as he could get to the side of the bed. A smile lifted the corners of his mustache, and she realized her hand was enfolded within his. Sweet warmth washed over her, and she had no desire to pull her hand away.

“Ah, my Pearl. You’ve been such a sleepyhead.” His fingers squeezed hers.

Hannah Vogel stood behind Hubert’s shoulder. “This man of yours simply will not take no for an answer. I got tired of chasing him out of here, so I brought him a chair. Would you like a few sips of water, dear?”

Hannah’s description of Hubert danced in her mind.
“This man of yours…”
She wanted to hear it again. Instead, she nodded at Hannah’s offer of water.

With an air of efficiency, Hannah moved to retrieve the water pitcher and fill a cup.

“Can I do that for her?” Hubert held out his hand for the cup.

“Humph! As if a man can do such a thing without making a mess.”

Pearl could hear a hint of humor in Hannah’s voice. She wished she could laugh but held her amusement inside. To her delight, Hannah passed the cup to Hubert.

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.” Hannah tugged Pearl’s covers up to her chin, then cocked an eyebrow at Hubert. “Don’t you upset her now.” She exited, leaving the door standing open.

“I don’t think Mrs. Doc approves of me acting as your nurse.” Hubert slipped his hand behind her head and helped her lean forward. Pearl started to reach for the cup, but Hubert held it gently to her lips. When he tipped the vessel, the cool water sloshed over the rim, dribbling down one cheek to her neck and wetting the neckline of her gown as well as the edge of the sheet.

“Oops!” Hubert scowled. “Sorry, my dear. Clumsy of me.”

“Told you so.” Hannah’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and blotted her face and neck, ignoring the teasing from the doctor’s wife. “Let’s try this again.”

Endeared by Hubert’s efforts, she didn’t bother to show him she was perfectly able to give herself a drink. This time he held his handkerchief under the cup. His second attempt was more successful, and Pearl swallowed, albeit painfully, several sips of water.

“There now,” he said, triumph defining the timbre of his voice. He set the cup down on the bedside table, returned to his chair, and reclaimed her hand. “Doc tells me you aren’t allowed to talk for another day or two, so if you want more water, just point, all right?”

She nodded. How good his hand felt around hers. She never wanted him to let go.

“Has anyone told you anything about the fire?”

She shrugged one shoulder and held her thumb and forefinger close together.

“A little bit?” His gray eyes darkened, reflecting the distress he obviously felt over the incident. Small wonder since he was pulled from the house after having gone inside to find her. How could she express to him her gratitude for saving her life?