Part 7 (1/2)

Taking several slow breaths to calm his thumping heart, Madison slid his arm under the small of Fern's back and lifted her gingerly. Rose helped him work the pants slowly over Fern's hips.

Very slowly. The longer he held her, his face close to her stomach, the longer his hands stayed in contact with her upper thighs, the more agitated he became. Finally, with a strong pull, Rose brought the pants down to Fern's knees. Madison stepped around Fern, and with a quick pull they were off.

He clutched the pants in front of him. He only hoped his expression didn't reveal how deeply he had been affected.

”Now her s.h.i.+ft.”

”No!”

”You can't leave her in it,” Rose argued.

”Yes, I can,” Madison declared, adamant. ”You can bandage her in or out of it, but I'm not touching it.”

Rose grinned. ”Don't tell me you're”

”Don't say it,” Madison said, struggling to recover his accustomed gravity. ”In the course of this day I have endured enough at the hands of that . . . Fern . . . to give me gray hair. I'm sorry she got hurt, but if she had let me take her to a doctor, none of this would have been necessary.”

”I can't bandage her chest over her chemise,” Rose insisted. She sat down on the side of the bed, her back to Madison, and began to run her hands over Fern's rib cage. Madison heaved a sigh of relief and willed his body to return to its normal state.

It was fortunate he succeeded. Before Rose had finished her examination, they heard the front door open. Moments later a heavy tread approached the room, followed by the rapid patter of smaller feet.

”What is going on here?” Mrs. Abbott demanded, bursting into the room, Ed right behind her, suspicion and outrage making her gaze dart from Fern to Madison. ''You're just in time to help Rose take care of Miss Sproull,” Madison said, backing toward the door. ”She's had an accident and refuses to see a doctor.”

”She must be undressed,” Rose said. ”She may have some broken ribs.”

The sight of Fern lying unconscious on the bed completely transformed Mrs. Abbott's stormy countenance.

”Poor dear. Here, let me help,” she cooed as she shooed Madison and Ed out of the room. ”It won't take a minute.”

Much to his relief, Madison found himself outside a closed door. He turned to Ed, who looked unhappy to have had his complaint so hastily shoved aside.

”The next time I come to your door, let me in,” Madison said sternly. ”And there's no need for all that caterwauling and running about. What kind of man will you grow up to be if you yelp at every little thing? Why don't you act like that other little boy?” Only then did he remember the second child wasn't in the room. Madison looked on the porch. The child still played with his wagon.

”See,” Madison pointed out, ”he's not jumping up and down, yelling like a cowhand trying to turn a stampede.”

”He never yells,” Ed said.

”Admirable child,” Madison said. ”He'll be a captain of industry someday, just like his father.”

”His father don't captain no industry,” Ed told him. ”His father's Mr. Randolph.”

Madison stared. This little boy with black hair, black eyes, and unflappable demeanor was his nephew. He didn't know why he hadn't realized it before. The child looked exactly like Zac in that picture Ma had taken just before the war.

It gave him an odd feeling to know that this child was George's son. George had always seemed so sure of himself, so secure, so much bigger than life. This child was like another part of him, a nonthreatening part. Madison knelt down before the little boy.

”h.e.l.lo.”

Madison didn't know what he was doing practically sitting on the floor, but the child intrigued him. He didn't seem the least bit afraid or particularly interested. He just stared back at him.

”You're not my daddy,” he said finally.

Now Madison understood why he had stared so hard. None of his other uncles looked like George. Madison looked enough like him to be his twin.

”That's right, I'm your daddy's brother.”

The little boy held out his wagon to Madison. ”You want to play with it?”

”No, you keep it,” Madison said, smiling at the thought of what his friends would say if they could see him sitting on the floor playing with a toy wagon. He started to stand up, but knelt back down again. ”What's your name?” he asked.

”William Henry Randolph,” the little boy announced with unmistakable clarity.

The shock caused Madison to sit down on the floor. George had named his son after their father.

Fern watched Mrs. Abbott tidy the room and give the bedclothes a twitch to straighten out an invisible wrinkle.

”Are you sure you're strong enough to be sitting up?” Mrs. Abbott asked. ”It's a miracle you've got nothing broken.”

”I'm fine,” Fern replied, doing everything she could to keep the pain that racked her body from sounding in her voice.

”You really ought to lie down.”

”It's better when I sit up.” Each breath caused stabbing pain, but she felt as if she were drowning when she lay down. ”Where is Mrs. Randolph?”

”She's seeing to her little boy. I can get you what you need.”

Fern wasn't comfortable with Mrs. Abbott. The women of Abilene had disapproved of her ever since she could remember. Even now she could see a censorious look in Mrs. Abbott's eyes. It seemed to say that if Fern hadn't been out with a man all by herself, something no decent woman would do, this would never have happened. Mrs. Abbott's disapproval became even more evident when she spied the pants and s.h.i.+rt folded neatly on the top of the dresser.

”I wanted to thank her for taking care of me.”

Rose hadn't judged Fern. There was bound to be some strain between themthey couldn't avoid it with Fern determined that Rose's brother-in-law would hangbut it wasn't a personal rejection, and that made a difference. Fern could handle disagreement. She'd faced that all her life. But the sting of rejection never seemed to lessen. After all these years, she should have been able to ignore it, but each time was like the first.

”I'll tell her you want to see her,” Mrs. Abbott said, giving the crocheted dresser scarf a last straightening before she left the room. ”But she may be some time. She's seeing to her family. She's a wonderful mother to that little boy, but that's nothing to the way she dotes on Mr. Randolph.”

The moment the door closed behind Mrs. Abbott, Fern collapsed against the mound of pillows and let the pain take over. She would pretend it didn't hurt when Rose came in, but right now it was easier to give in and admit it hurt like living h.e.l.l.

p.i.s.s and vinegar! You're lucky you didn't break your neck. It was stupid to have run away from Madison. He hadn't said anything others hadn't said. Yes, he had.

Why are you so afraid to admit you're a female?

Usually she'd have no trouble denying such an accusation. She was expected to do a man's work, so why shouldn't she dress like one? That was the reason she gave everybody. She kept the real reason closely concealed in her heart. Yet somehow Madison had figured it out in one morning.

Or had he? Maybe he had used those words by accident. She would pretend he'd never said it, and maybe he wouldn't mention it. If he did, she would deal with it then.

But he had taken her in his arms and kissed her.

Maybe he could pretend that had never happened, but she couldn't. Even now, despite the pain from her cracked and bruised ribs, she could feel his body pressed against hers, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s crushed against his chest, his lips covering her mouth. Just thinking about it caused the panic to come flooding back.

But before the panic, she remembered feeling something else. It had been only a moment between the shock of his embrace and the onset of fear, but she remembered it very clearly. It had been excitement and pleasure, comfortable and familiar, as though she had found something she had lost.

But the joy of discovery had been swept away too quickly, gone never to return. Madison wouldn't kiss her again. Surely she didn't want him to.