“Home…”
“You’ll have to guide me to your sister’s.” Rachel pointed to the west of town.
“That way.” Patrick jiggled the reins and the team started forward.
“I’ve not been to Boise in some time.
“Tis grown and that’s the truth. Seems like a fine place.” Rachel nodded.
“I look forward to meeting Judge Branigan. He’s a fine and honest man, so I’ve heard.
“Tis not many that can be said of. And I’m eager to meet your sister too. If she’s anything like you, she must be a lovely woman.” Again she nodded. He wondered if she heard what he was saying or if he was
just talking to hear himself think. * Maggie slowed the buggy as it swung into the drive leading to the house. A strange carriage was standing near the hitching post. She wondered who might be calling so late in the afternoon.
“Who’s here, Mama?” Sheridan asked.
“I don’t know.” She felt an odd sense of apprehension. She stopped the horse and climbed out of the buggy. Sheridan hopped down from the other side and raced up the porch steps ahead of her.
“Sarah?” Maggie called as she opened the front door. The housekeeper was nowhere in sight.
“Who are you?” Sheridan demanded in the forthright manner of an almost-five-year-old as he stood in the archway leading to the parlor. Her gaze was drawn instantly in that direction. The stranger rose from the sofa, his hat in his hands. The expression on his face brought another surge of foreboding.
“Mrs. Branigan?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m Patrick O’Donnell.” She wasn’t sure if she felt relief or not. She’d received Rachel’s letter, telling of her engagement to the Irishman, but she’d been troubled by the tone of the missive. It hadn’t read like a young woman in love.
“Sheridan,” she said softly, her hand on the boy’s shoulder, “why don’t you go to the kitchen and see what Cook is fixing for supper?”
“But I want to-” “Do as I say, Sheridan. I think she was baking cookies when we left.”
“With icing?” The boy hurried off toward the back of the house, shucking off his coat as he went. Maggie turned back toward her guest.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. O’Donnell. Rachel didn’t tell me you’d be coming to Boise when she wrote to me. I’m pleased to have a chance to get to know you. Won’t you have a seat? Can I get you something warm to drink?” He glanced toward the stairway leading to the second floor.
“I’ve brought Rachel back to Boise, Mrs. Branigan.” Maggie’s face broke into a smile.
“Rachel? She’s here?” She turned in the direction of his gaze, hoping to see her sister coming down the stairs.
“Mrs. Branigan…” His voice had an ominous tone, drawing her eyes back to him.
“She’s not well.”
“Where is she now?”
“I believe your housekeeper was seeing her to bed.” Maggie whirled away and raced up the stairs. She was met by Sarah outside Rachel’s bedroom. Sarah put her finger against her lips.
“She’s asleep, ma’am. I’ve sent for the doctor.”
“The doctor? Sarah, what’s wrong?” The housekeeper shook her head slowly.
“I’m not sure, Mrs. Branigan. She just seemed to collapse the minute she come through the door.
Perhaps the gentleman downstairs can tell you more.” Maggie turned the knob and opened the door, then moved silently across the bedroom. Rachel’s pale yellow hair spilled over the white pillowcase, and her fingers were curled around the edge of the blankets. She looked hardly more than a child to Maggie and frightfully frail. She sat on the edge of the chair beside the bed.
“I never should have let you go up there,” she whispered as she stared at her sister’s beloved face.
“I knew something would go wrong. I just knew it.”
“I won’t give you false hope, Mrs. Branigan. Your sister is a very sick young woman.” Dr. Weick rubbed his fingers across his furrowed forehead.
“What are you saying, doctor?” Maggie whispered.
“Are you saying my sister could die?”
“I’m afraid so, ma’am.” The doctor opened the door to Rachel’s bedroom.
“I’ll be back to check on her in the morning. Be sure you keep the children away from this room. Influenza is highly contagious, and it’s especially dangerous for the little ones.” Maggie turned around to stand at the foot of Rachel’s bed. She couldn’t believe that her sister’s life could be in danger. She was too young. She had so much before her. Love. Marriage. Children. Rachel moaned and turned her head on her pillow from side to side.
“Please… Let me explain…” Maggie moved around to the side of the bed. She leaned forward, taking hold of Rachel’s hand.
“Kitten, it’s Maggie. You’re home. Everything’s going to be all right now.”
“Gavin…” Rachel murmured.
“Please, Gavin…” Maggie straightened, a frown etching two vertical lines between her eyebrows.
“Get well, Rachel,” she whispered.
“Then you can tell me about Gavin.” The door eased open, and Sarah’s head poked through the opening.
“Mr. Branigan is home, ma’am. He’s in the parlor now with Mr. O’Donnell.”
“Mr. O’Donnell? Oh, my! I completely forgot he was here.” The door finished opening to allow the housekeeper entry.
“I’ll sit with Rachel while you go down, ma’am. It’ll take the two of us to see her through this. I already told Mr. Branigan that he’s not to come in this room until the danger’s passed.”
“Thank you, Sarah. What would I ever do without you?”
“That’s something you’ll not have to know, God willing.” Sarah’s smile was subdued.
“Now go on down to your husband. He’s mighty worried.” Maggie glanced at Rachel, then left the bedroom. She could hear the men’s muted voices as she walked toward the stairs, but she was stopped by the opening of Colleen’s door.
“Mother? Will Aunt Rachel be all right? Can I see her?”
“No, darling, I’m afraid you can’t see her. She has influenza. It’s very serious, and any of us could take ill from it. You’ll have to help keep everyone away from her room until she’s well again.” Tara Maureen appeared at her older sister’s side.
“I heard Sarah telling Cook that Aunt Rachel could die.” She would have to ask Sarah to be more careful about what she said, Maggie thought as she looked into her middle child’s wide green eyes.
“We’ll ask God in our prayers to spare her.” She smoothed Tara Maureen’s auburn hair back from her face, thinking how like Tuccker’s mother she looked. The girl had always been especially close to her Aunt Rachel.
“We mustn’t worry. We must keep our hopes up.”
“Will you tell her we love her?” twelve-year-old Colleen asked.
“Of course, dear.” She kissed her daughters on their cheeks.
“Now I must go downstairs and see your father. I’m sure he’s worried,
too, and I haven’t had a chance to speak with him yet.” She felt the tension mounting as she walked toward the stairs. It was just becoming real to her what the doctor had said. Not only could Rachel die, but the children were in danger too. How could this happen so suddenly? How could life be so easy and carefree one moment and so threatened with calamity the next?
As always in a time of crisis, Maggie hurried toward the shelter of Tucker’s arms. She knew that within his embrace she would find the strength to face whatever lay ahead of them. It had always been so.
Chapter Thirty-One
It was hot. So hot. And her throat burned. It hurt whenever she swallowed. And the coughing. Sometimes, she thought she wouldn’t be able to draw in another gasp of air for the coughing. There was a heavy weight on her chest, crushing the life from her. Why didn’t Gavin come? She’d called and called for him, and still he didn’t come. Why was he leaving her alone with these strangers? Gavin, let me explain. But he wouldn’t. He hated her. He didn’t care if she lived or died. I love you, Gavin. Even she didn’t care if she lived or died.