She could feel him crying as he held her tight. “I thought the same thing, sugar. God, I never want to feel that way again.” He stiffened. “Those bastards!”
“What is it, Marcus?” she asked, then she saw he was staring at her blood-soaked drawers.
“What did they do to you?”
“I… I…” she began, not wanting to speak what she’d only just realized.
“Lissa, tell me what they did to you.”
“He hit me. He hit me and was about to rape me, but he stopped when he saw I was bleeding.”
“Did someone cut you?” Marcus asked, his entire body tense as he whispered the words.
Shaking her head, tears shone in her eyes as she framed his pale face. “I lost our baby, Marcus.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared hard at her, then he embraced her once again and pulled her into his lap. “Oh, sugar. I’m so sorry.”
“Hold on to me, Marcus,” she whispered into his ear. “Hold on to me and don’t let go.”
“Don’t worry, honey. You aren’t ever getting away from me,” he promised.
“Where are the other two, Lissa?” Chuck asked, bringing them both back to the scene at hand.
“He sent them out to rustle up some food for dinner.”
“So they’re not too far away. Marcus, get Lissa out of here. I’ll take care of the other two.”
“You?” She gaped at him.
“Don’t look so surprised, honey,” he touched her cheek tenderly. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
“He’s right.” Marcus groaned as he pulled himself up. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“But, Father--”
“I’ll be all right, Lissa. Trust me. Go with Marcus.”
Marcus was panting hard, but he was able to mount his horse on the second try. Chuck lifted Melissa to sit across his lap. Instantly, she tucked her head under his chin.
“Take care of my daughter, McCaide,” Chuck said.
“I intend to.” Marcus smiled down at him even though pain was etched on his face. “For the rest of my life.
Twenty-one
“Timothy!” Melissa pounded on the door of Dr. Newcomb’s office a few hours later.
Marcus leaned heavily on her, his head resting on her shoulder as they both stood on the boardwalk of Gideon’s Gulch. The sun wasn’t up yet, but Melissa didn’t care. Marcus needed a doctor, and she was going to bust down the door if Timothy didn’t open it soon. After a few more bangs, the door finally swung open, and Dr. Newcomb appeared looking disgruntled at being awakened at such an hour.
“Lissa?” He gasped as he recognized her.
“Timothy, help me get him inside. Please!”
“Good Lord, what happened? There’s so much blood!” Timothy hooked his arm underneath Marcus and shuffled him into the room. A few candles burned in the office as the doctor helped him lie on the fluffy green chaise lounge near the wall.
“He’s been shot,” Melissa cried, trying to stop the tears that wanted to fall. “He can’t die, Timothy. You have to save him.”
Gazing back at Melissa, Timothy took in her own haggard appearance and gasped again. “Lissa, where are your clothes? And what happened to you? Were you shot as well?” He moved to rise from the chaise, but Melissa pushed him gently back toward Marcus.
“No, Timothy. I’m fine, but I… I lost the…” She couldn’t finish her sentence as she rubbed her belly.
Timothy’s expression softened as understanding lit in his eyes.
Marcus was no longer conscious, but Melissa knelt by him and stroked his hair as her tears finally fell. He’d deteriorated on the ride back to the Gulch, finally telling her to take the reins and head west when he couldn’t concentrate any longer. His big arms had wrapped around her as his head tucked between her shoulder blades. She could hear him groaning, but she’d been terrified to let Pete go much faster than a brisk walk for fear of hurting Marcus further. The trip had taken so long that she was horrified Marcus was now beyond help.
“Don’t die on me, Marcus! Oh, please save him, Timothy. I can’t live without him!” She bowed her head and felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Lissa, I want you to go upstairs and get yourself cleaned up. I still have a few things that were Ingrid’s before she died. You can wear one of her dresses.”
“But--”
“I want you to go,” Timothy insisted as he took off Marcus’s bloody bandage and looked at his back. “There’s no exit wound, which means the bullet is still inside him. I need to get it out, and I can’t have any distractions.”
Sniffling, Melissa nodded as she kissed Marcus’s brow. “Is he going to--”
“I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood. I’ll do what I can.”
“Please save him,” she implored again, still stroking Marcus’s hair. Leaning up on her knees, she placed a soft kiss on his mouth and stood.
Timothy was already gathering the equipment he needed. “Go, Lissa. I’ll take good care of him.”
With one last look at Marcus, Melissa trudged up the stairs with a heavy heart and fervently prayed that the man she loved wouldn’t die.
~ * ~
It was quiet--too quiet. Melissa had cleaned herself of the blood, unsure of what belonged to her and what belonged to Marcus. That thought alone brought tears to her eyes.
She’d dressed in a grey calico dress that had belonged to Timothy’s late wife Ingrid that she’d found hanging in Timothy’s bureau. It was about two sizes too big and had a musty smell, but Melissa was thankful to be wearing more than just her underthings. The dress had pleasant little flowers woven into the pattern of the fabric, but she barely noticed.
The sun was up and inching toward noon, and Melissa hadn’t heard a word from the doctor’s office below. What was going on down there? What was taking so long?
Pacing back and forth, she chewed on her nails, wanting desperately to fly down the stairs but afraid to interrupt the doctor if he were still operating. Her body was exhausted, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. She needed to know that Marcus was all right for her own peace of mind.
After another agonizing hour of waiting, Timothy finally trudged wearily up the stairs, wiping his tired brow. “It’s done.”
“Is he… is Marcus… will he--”
“I’ve done all I can. It’s up to Marcus if he wants to live through it. He’s lost a lot of blood, but I’ve removed the bullet and stitched him up. He’ll need to rest for a long while.”
“Can I see him?”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good--”
“Timothy,” she interrupted, “
please
.”
The doctor sighed heavily and took off his spectacles. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he glanced at her and murmured, “You love him.”
Melissa nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you going to break our engagement?”
Swallowing hard, she nodded once more. “I’m sorry, Timothy, but I’ve always loved Marcus. He was just too stubborn to realize that he loved me too until… well, until you and I were to be married. I thought he didn’t want me. I thought I would never see him again. I wanted stability for me and for my baby, that’s why I agreed to marry you. But I’ve lost my baby, and now I don’t want to lose Marcus too.”
Timothy pursed his lips and nodded himself. His shoulders slumped as he whispered, “He’s lying comfortably on one of the cots in my exam room.”
“Thank you, Timothy! Thank you so much for all you’ve done. You are a wonderful man.” Melissa bent and kissed his cheek before running down the stairs.
The cot was pushed against the wall of the exam room, and Marcus’s long form was stretched out upon it. Covered by a blanket, he appeared to simply be sleeping. Melissa walked over to him and sat on the floor, stroking his hair.
His face was gaunt and pale, his eyes sunken with dark circles under them. Glancing under the blanket, she saw the pristine white bandage that now wrapped around his belly. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she expelled it, her relief at not seeing any more blood overwhelming her.
Tears filled her eyes as she kissed his cheek. Taking his right hand in hers, she kissed it too and held it up to her face.
“I love you, Marcus McCaide,” she whispered as she trembled, tracing his brow with her fingers. “Don’t you dare leave me.”
Clutching his hand, Melissa laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“Don’t leave me,” she repeated before she yawned and blessed sleep overtook her.
Twenty-two
“Lissa?”
Waking up by degrees, Melissa was vaguely aware of a soft hand in her hair.
“Lissa, sugar?”
Instantly she sat up, recognizing that gritty voice anywhere.
“Marcus!” she exclaimed, her tired eyes wide as she gazed at him in the darkened room.
He smiled weakly with hooded eyes. The hand that had been stroking her hair fell back to the cot.
“Hi, baby,” he whispered, closing his eyes again.
Sniffling, Melissa tried to scoot closer. “How are you feeling?” she asked, lightly stroking his face.
“Like I’ve been trampled by a stampede of angry bulls.”
Taking his hand in hers, she stroked her cheek with the back of it. He looked at her again, barely squeezing her fingers.
“I want you to fetch the preacher.”
“Why?” she asked.
Marcus coughed and winced sharply, making Melissa suck in her own breath.
“Oh, God!” she cried. “You want your last rites.”
She knew he must be in tremendous pain, but there was humor in his eyes as he gazed back at her and shook his head.
“No, sugar,” he whispered.
Melissa’s relief was tremendous. “I can’t lose you, Marcus.”
“Lissa, come here.”
She leaned closer, and he turned his head toward hers, his face merely a breath away. “I want to marry you. Now.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, hot tears rolled down her face as she trembled. “Marcus, you’ve been shot. Don’t you think--”
“I’m tired of thinking, Lissa.” He groaned, wincing again as he lifted her hand to his mouth. “I’m so weak, honey, that I’m not... sure I’m going to--”
Covering his mouth with her hand, she shook her head violently. “Don’t you dare talk like that! I won’t let you.”
“I want you to fetch the preacher,” he said again with more force behind his words. “I want you to be completely mine and wear my name, even if I--”
“Marcus!” She pressed her face to his shoulder. “Don’t speak of it!”
“Marry me, Lissa. Right now.”
Looking into his golden eyes once more, she saw them shining with tears and knew she couldn’t deny him. She wanted to be his wife too badly, to be his for however long he had left.
Nodding, she gave him a tearful smile.
“All right, but what about my father? Shouldn’t we wait for him to return?”
“No need to wait on my account,” Chuck’s voice bellowed from behind them.