Nora Roberts: Lawless

What had he said that day when he’d awakened?

Pacing to the window, the one Maggie had told her Jake had sometimes sat in, she drew the curtain aside to look down at the empty street. He’d said it couldn’t be hell. But he’d been wrong, Sarah thought. It was hell, and she was mired in it, terrified each day that he would leave her.

So much blood. He’d lost so much blood. By the time Barker had ridden up she’d nearly managed to stop it, but the ride back to town had cost him more. She had stanched still more while the doctor had cut and probed into his side to remove the bullet. She hadn’t known that watching the bullet come out of him would be as bad as watching it go in.

Then the fever had raced through him, vicious and merciless. In a week he’d been awake only a handful of minutes, often delirious, sometimes speaking in what Lucius had told her was Apache. If it didn’t break soon, she knew, no matter how hard she prayed, no matter how hard she fought, it would take him. Sarah moved back to the bed to sit beside him and watch over him in the pale light of dawn.

Time drifted, for her even as it did for him. She lost track of minutes, then hours, then days. When morning came she held his hand in hers and thought over the time they’d had together. His hands had been strong, she thought. Biting back a sob, she laid her forehead on his shoulder. And gentle, too, she remembered. When he’d touched her. When he’d taught her.

With him she’d found something lovely, something powerful. A sunrise. A fast river. A storm. She knew now that love, desire, passion and affection could be one emotion for one man. From that first frantic discovery in the hay to the soft, sweet loving by the stream, he’d given her more than most women had in a lifetime.

“But I’m greedy,” she murmured to him. “I want more. Jake, don’t leave me. Don’t cheat me out of what we could have.” She blinked back tears when she heard the door open behind her.

“How is he?”

“The same.” Sarah rose,and waited while Maggie set a tray on the bureau. She’d long ago stopped arguing about eating. It had taken her only a few days to realize that if she wanted the strength to stay with Jake she needed food.

“Don’t worry none about this breakfast, because Anne Cody made it up for you.”

Sarah dashed away the hated, weakening tears.

“That was kind of her.”

“She asked about our boy here, and wanted you to know that Alice is doing just fine.”

“I’m glad.” Without interest, she folded back the cloth so that steam rose fragrantly from the biscuits. “Looks like Carlotta skipped town.”

“It doesn’t matter.” With no more interest than she had in the biscuits, she looked at her own face in the mirror. Behind her reflection, she could see Jake lying motionless in the bed. “The damage is done.”

“Child, you need sleep, and not what you get sitting up in that chair all night. You go on and use my room. I’ll stay with him.”

“I can’t.” Sarah ignored the biscuits and took the coffee. “Sometimes he calls for me, and I’m afraid if I’m not here he might…slip away. That’s foolish, I suppose, but I just can’t leave him, Maggie.”

“I know.” Because she did, Maggie set a comforting hand on Sarah’s shoulder. The noise at the door had her turning back. “What are you doing sneaking around here, young John Cody?”

Johnny slipped into the doorway and stood with his hat crushed in his hands. “Just wanted to see him, is all.”

“A sickroom ain’t no place for nasty little boys.” “It’s all right.” Sarah waved him in and summoned up a smile. “I’m sure Jake would be pleased that you’d taken the time to visit him.”

“He ain’t going to die, is he, Sarah?”

“No.” She found the confidence she’d lost during the night. “No, he isn’t going to die, Johnny.” “Ma says you’re taking real good care of him.” He reached out a hand, then balled it at his side again.

“It’s all right, boy,” Maggie said, softening. “You can pet him as long as he don’t know it. I do it myself.” Gingerly Johnny stroked a hand along Jake’s forehead.

“He’s pretty hot.”

“Yes, but the fever’s going to break soon.” Sarah laid a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Very soon.”

“Will’s better,” he said, giving Sarah a hopeful smile. “He’s got his arm in a sling and-all, but he’s getting around just fine and dandy. Won’t even let Liza fuss no more.”

“Before long Jake won’t let me fuss, either.”

Hours later she dozed, lulled by the afternoon sun. She slept lightly, her head nestled against the wing of the chair and her hands in her lap on top of her journal. She’d written everything she felt, hoped, despaired of on those pages. Someone called her name, and she lifted a hand as if to brush the voice away. She only wanted to sleep.

“Sarah.”

Now her eyes flew open, and she bolted out of the chair. Jake was half sitting up in bed, his brows drawn together in annoyance or confusion. And his eyes, she noted, were focused, alert and direct on hers.

“What the hell’s going on?” he asked her. Then he watched, astonished, as she collapsed on the side of the bed and wept.

It was three weeks before he had the strength to do more than stand on his own feet. He had time to think-perhaps too much time-but when he tried to do anything he found himself weak as a baby. It infuriated him, disgusted him. When he swore at Maggie twice in one morning, she told Sarah their patient was well on the road to recovery.

“He’s a tough one, Jake is,” Maggie went on as they climbed the steps to his room together. “Said he was damn sick and tired of having females poking him, pouring things into him and trying to give him baths.”

“So much for gratitude,” Sarah said with a laugh.

Then she swayed and clutched the banister for support. Maggie grabbed her arm. “Honey, are you all right?”

“Yes. Silly.” Shrugging it off, Sarah waited for the dizziness to pass. “I’m just tired yet, I think.” One look at Maggie’s shrewd face had her giving up and sitting carefully on the riser.

“How far along are you?”

It surprised Sarah that the direct question didn’t make her blush. Instead, she smiled. “About a month.” She knew the exact moment when she had conceived Jake’s child, on the riverbank under the moon. “I had the obvious sign, of course. Then, for the last few days, I haven’t been able to keep anything down in the morning.”

“I know.” Pleased as a partridge, Maggie cackled. “Honey, I knew you were breeding three days ago, when you turned green at the sight of Anne Cody’s flapjacks. Ain’t Jake just going to fall on his face?” “I haven’t told him,” Sarah said quickly. “I don’t want him to know until he’s…until we’ve…” She propped her chin in her hands. “Not yet, Maggie.” “That’s for you to decide.”

“Yes, and you won’t say any thing… to anyone?”

“Not a peep.”

Satisfied, Sarah rose and started up the stairs again. “The doctor said he’d be up and around in a couple of days. We haven’t been able to talk about anything important since he’s been healing.” She knocked on the door to his room before pushing it open.

The bed was empty.

“What-Maggie!”

“He was there an hour ago. I don’t know where-” But she was talking to air, as Sarah was flying down the stairs again.

“Sarah! Sarah!” His hand wrapped around a licorice whip, Johnny raced toward her. “I just saw Jake riding out of town. He sure looked a lot better.”

“Which way?” She grabbed the surprised boy by the shoulders. “Which way did he go?”

“That way.” He pointed. “I called after him, but I guess he didn’t hear me.”