Authors: Mary Adair
Grandpa, as if sensing a lost battle, turned and stepped back into the kitchen.
Granny blinked back tears. "What if yer passion cost ye yer life?"
Dawn felt time slipping past. Early in her training her mother taught her time was not to be rushed and not to be wasted. It was a delicate balance that she was yet to master. Raven's life, and maybe her own, depended on her sense of timing. She met Granny's gaze. "Would you offer any less?"
Granny's eyes darted back and forth as she studied Dawn's features. Finally, she glanced toward her home and watched her husband fumble nervously with his pipe. She turned back to Dawn and smiled sadly. "I understand."
Chapter Nineteen
Magistrate Malcolm Whipple counted the coins for the third time and chuckled. Not a bad price to lock a man up just so he can escape. Good thing for all involved that Whitmore had left for London. He could get right particular about his thoroughbreds. So particular in fact, that Whipple would never have dared the prank if Whitmore were still sitting at home.
For now, the thoroughbred stood safe and sound in the stables. He would take him back to Lord Whitmore's farm himself in the morning. Whitmore just might be so grateful he'd offer a hefty reward for the horse's return. Whipple picked up a coin and examined it in the fading light. How he enjoyed the rich color of gold, and its cool surface.
A heavy hammering on his door interrupted his appreciation of his new funds. He quickly swept the coins from the table into a small pouch and tucked it safely away in his desk.
"Sir!" he exclaimed uneasily as he opened the door.
"Hello, Magistrate," Richard Whitmore answered. "I understand you're holding a horse thief. I would like to see him immediately."
Whipple swung the door wide and spread his arm in welcome. "Of course, Sir Richard. I thought ye were on yer way to visit the wife's family in London. "
"We were, but Lady Whitmore fell ill and we had to postpone the trip." Whitmore stepped forward as he removed his gloves, then slapped them against one hand. "If you would be so kind, take me to this scoundrel who dared steal one of my thoroughbreds. "
Whipple bobbed his head as he indicated for Whitmore to follow him. "This way, sir. If I may ask, 'ow did ye learn so quickly of the theft?" he asked with concealed irritation as he shuffled down the corridor.
Whitmore didn't spare the rotund magistrate a glance. "You should know by now, Magistrate, that very little escapes my knowledge."
Whipple nodded, but wondered if the answer contained a hidden meaning. They continued without further conversation along the hallway to the back of his home. He paused at a door. "Ere's the room," the jailer proclaimed. "E's in 'ere. Safe and sound 'e be, He lifted a large ring of keys. "Might I suggest ye be careful with this one? E's a cagey one, 'e is."
"No need to worry about me, Magistrate. Now hurry along and open the door."
"I must say, your being' home is a lucky turn for me." He fumbled with the keys hoping Sir Richard wouldn't notice that the door was unlocked. "I was going to hold 'im 'ere till yer returned, knowing ye would want ta interview him yerself afore his sentencing'." The key turned with a loud clink and he swung the door open.
Raven turned from the window as the two men entered. When he saw his old friend, relief rushed through him. He would finally have this matter settled and be on his way.
"Raven? Raven Cloud? Good Lord man, you look awful." Whitmore extended a hand and walked toward Raven. "What nonsense is this?"
"The Magistrate here believes I stole your horse." Raven still intended to learn why the accusation was made, but would leave it until after the needed medication was retrieved for Lady Montgomery. All he wanted now was to find Dawn and complete their mission.
"'E did, Lord Whitmore." Whipple hurried forward in his own defense. "There was an eye witness."
Whitmore turned to the Magistrate. "And you trust this witness of yours?"
Whipple wrung his hands. "Aye, I do." He swung his arm in Raven's direction. "I 'ave never laid eyes on this man 'afore today. 'He ain't dressed as no Lord, 'e ain't. And me witness said he seen 'em clear as day."
"Your witness lied. I suggest you run him down and question him again. I hope you didn't send your witness to return my mare."
Whipple relaxed for the first time since Whitmore's arrival. "Oh, no Milord, I wouldn't trust her with nobody but the smith. She be safe and sound."
"Good." Whitmore dismissed the Magistrate as he slapped Raven affectionately on the shoulder. "Come home with me.
Rebecca is indisposed, but Phillip would love to see you. I wager he has grown a foot from the time you last saw him."
Raven's knees almost buckled under the friendly blow. He retrieved his coat from the back of a straight cane chair and laid it across one arm. The two men walked past Whipple down the hall and out the front door without a backward glance. "I promise to come calling soon." He pulled a handkerchief from his cuff and dabbed at his brow. "But at the moment, I have pressing business. The good magistrate cost me valuable time." He swayed.
"I say man, are you ill?" Whitmore put out a hand to steady him. "Into my carriage with you. I know just the woman who can help."
Raven raised a hand in protest, but Whitmore ignored him as he pushed him into his carriage. After issuing clipped directions to the driver, he joined Raven.
The pain in his side worsened and Raven knew the wound required attention before he and Dawn headed back to London. He shifted on the seat as he glanced out the window. "Where are you taking me?"
"There is a marvelous old lady just down the lane here. She is well versed in herbs and their uses. I highly recommend her."
"Sounds like the very person I'm looking for."
"Oh?"
"Yes, Dawn, my traveling companion, left me at the stables to go in search of Granny Wallace." He shifted again and a fine sweat popped out on his brow. "We ran into Grandpa Wallace when we entered town," he finished with a groan.
Whitmore reached a hand to support his friend. "I'm glad to be of assistance. Who is this Dawn, then, old boy?"
Raven slumped forward as the carriage came to a halt. "Raven?" Whitmore hammered on the carriage ceiling as he struggled to support Raven's considerable weight.
Raven heard his friend's query, but could not find the strength to answer.
"Sir?" the driver queried as he opened the carriage door. "Help me get him inside."
The two men lifted Raven from the carriage. Between them, they carried his limp form up the walk. Raven struggled to help, but his legs refused to function.
"Dear me, what is amiss, Sir Richard?" Granny Wallace opened the door wide as she motioned for them to follow. "Is this Mr. Cloud? Is Dawn with you?"
"I don't know about Dawn, she was not at the Magistrate's when I arrived."
Granny shut the door and hurried down the hallway. "Well, bring 'im in here." She led the troop into a small bedroom to the back of the cottage. "Please, undress 'im and lay 'im there," she said and pointed at the bed. Under her watchful eye, the two men did as they were instructed.
When the bandage on his side was revealed, she hurried forward. "Oh, dear, look at this bandage," she exclaimed as she bent to probe at it. "This is no doubt the cause of his illness. Get him settled and leave so I can care for 'im."
Seeing the job done, the driver excused himself and left.
Whitmore dug in his purse to retrieve several coins. "Take good care of my friend, Granny," he said as he laid the coins on a small bedside table.
"Of course, I will."
"I know in your kindness you would care for him regardless, but he is an old and trusted friend of mine."
"I see," she answered as her nimble fingers checked her patient.
"I understood his companion was already here."
Granny wrung her hands. "Well, she's not here at the moment. She was on her way to see the Magistrate. We were told Magistrate Whipple 'ad him locked up for some trumped up charge. Dawn went to check up on 'im. She'll be back as soon as she learns he's been released."
"Rest assured I'll be looking into who made that charge."
Granny turned back to her patient. "It's a good thing ye were 'ere to set the matter straight. There 'as been too great a delay in his care as it is. Do ye know 'ow long ago it was that he came about this wound?" With sure fingers she pealed the bandage back.
"Afraid not." He stepped closer to take a look, then quickly pulled back at the sight. "I'd say, it hasn't been long, but it's a bad enough wound that it should have been taken care of before now. There are some pretty nasty streaks. It looks to me as if it's septic."
"Yes, I believe yer right." She placed a clean cloth over the wound and raised the covers. Turning she indicated the coin left by Whitmore. "Why do ye leave coin? Ye know I don't take money for helping the ill." She walked to the table and picked up the coins and held them out to Whitmore.
"I know. And I think we've had this conversation before." He took the coins she passed him and placed them back on the table. "The villagers bring you chickens or bread or fabric. They share with you what they can when they can. Well, I have coin. Let me share with you what I have."
The old midwife smiled and nodded. She and her husband needed the coin too badly to refuse it. '"Ow is yer good lady?"
"Actually, she's suffering from one of her head pains. I'll have to tell her, if not for her illness, I wouldn't have been available to help our friend. I'm sure that will at least cheer her up. I was hoping..."
She nodded, her mobcap bobbing. "Of course, come with me to the kitchen."
There, she moved the kettle near the fire to start to boil it in preparation for Raven's care. That done, she hurried to the cupboard and took down a large jar from a high shelf. "Does she 'ave a fever as well?" she asked.
"Not when I left home. I believe it is just one of her usual headaches, but if you could ease her pain, I would be most grateful."
Granny reached out and patted his hand. "Ye are a good husband." She withdrew a small bottle and filled it with coarsely ground powder. "Take this. As before, put two large pinches into a cup of water and 'ave her drink it right down. She will start to feel better shortly. If need be, ye can give 'er another dose in four hours. If the pain is not completely gone after 'er second dose, then ye must come and take me to 'er."
Whitmore accepted the bottle. "Thank you, but I hope you will come for a visit anyway. I know how much my wife enjoys your visits."
"No more than I do, I assure ye. Now off with ye, I must tend to my new patient."
Granny gathered what she would need to clean the wound with quick efficiency. The creeping red streaks were an indication that urgency was called for.
She entered the room, her arms loaded with supplies. Setting them down on the bedside table, she said a quick prayer and pulled the covers back and lifted the cloth. "Ye have a nasty wound 'ere young man." She pressed against the angry red flesh and a white putrid discharge oozed from the ragged hole. "I'll do me best to save yer life, but it will be up to God Almighty to make the final decision."
To her surprise, she heard Raven answer in a soft, but surprisingly strong voice. "I will live. Do what you must."
"This will be painful. I 'ave a tonic that will help with the pain." She reached for a cup, but he stopped her.
"I'll not need that. I promise not to move. I'll close my eyes and it will appear I'm asleep. Do not let this startle you. You do what needs to be done to tend the wound. I'll do the rest." With that, he turned his head away from her and closed his eyes.
Granny noted the even breathing and the relaxing of every muscle. She felt his pulse, then rose to lean over him and place an ear to his chest. Satisfied, she began the job of cleaning the wound.
As she had expected from Dawn's story, the wound was from a gunshot. She slipped two fingers into the wound as she watched his face. He was an extremely large man. If he became combative, she would not be able to do what needed to be done. True to his word, he didn't move or utter a sound.
The slug was wedged against the crest of his hipbone. Lucky for him, it was easy to remove and no organs had been injured, though he lost a lot of blood. One hour after she began, Granny secured the final bandage in place.
The welcomed scent of Grandpa's tobacco reached her and she turned.
He wrinkled his nose at the strong odor of burnt herbs and seared flesh. "How is yer patient? I think we need to air out the room a bit." He walked to the window and opened it a crack.
She smiled at her husband. '"He’ll live," she announced proudly. In a deeper tone she added, "Don't leave that window open. I don't want 'im catchin' a chill."
"Ye sound sure he'll survive. 'E don't look good, and by the looks of that wash pan an' that slug, 'twas a nasty job." He closed the window and moved toward the bed to peer down at Raven. "I thought 'e didn't look well when I saw him and Dawn at the stables."
Granny wiped her hands on a cloth as she studied her patient. "I 'ave a potion I need him to drink. It will help 'im gain his strength, but he's in some sort of trance. I don't know 'ow to rouse him."
"You have but to speak to me." Raven opened his eyes and turned his head in her direction. "I'll drink your potion."
Granny quickly recovered from the surprise of hearing him speak and pressed the cup to his lips. He drank the mixture without stopping. When he finished, he once again closed his eyes.
Granny turned to Grandpa. She wondered at the fearful look on her man's face. What made him so serious now that the young man's condition has improved? "Come, dear." She gripped his hand. "We must let 'im rest." She rose and motioned her husband to silence as she ushered him from the room and shut the door.