“I’m not going to die, am I?”
She was so brave.To die?No. He choked. “I’m going to rip your dress a bit.” She nodded. He flipped out his knife and cut open a swath. Remembering his audience, he cut as little as possible to reveal the wound. He probed into her wound with his fingers. He expelled a breath. The bullet did not hit any vital organs, but the damned thing was lodged in her shoulder muscle. Tears ran down her pale cheeks.
“You have so much courage, Rachel. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” He soothed her like a child, but she was sturdier than most men he’d seen on the battlefield. “You’re going to have to trust me. I’ve done this before when I was a cavalry scout. I know it’ll hurt a lot. I promise we’ll get you the best medical attention as soon as possible.”
A flask of brandy was passed to him, and Lucas poured it liberally over the wound.
“You’ve captured my heart and soul, Rachel, and I could easier lie down and die than be without you. The thought of losing you…if I hadn’t made it here on time tonight…it’s more than I can bear. You are a part of me…you have been a part of me for so long…since that first night in Richmond…you have completely blindsided me.”
“Oh, Lucas. I only want to be with you,” she cried.
“My beautiful Rachel. I’ll always be with you.”
With the tip of his knife he probed for the bullet like a surgeon plying his trade. Her eyes flickered as he tipped it up and out and tossed the ball away. Someone handed him a clean handkerchief and Lucas pressed it in place to stem the flow of blood. Rachel had fainted. Lucas lifted her into his arms. His eyes filled with tears at the thought that he could have lost her forever.
Chapter Thirty-One
“The doctor will be down in a few minutes to give orders on your convalescence. But I’m telling you, Rachel, there will be nothing but strict bedrest for you. I have servants hired to do everything,” Lucas commanded.
She’d been asleep off and on for the better part of two days. Lucas stayed by her bedside the whole time, and he looked like the walking dead. He hadn’t shaved, his clothes were disheveled and dirty, and his dark hair ruffled. He was handsomer than she ever remembered.
She struggled to sit, and her shoulder stung where the bullet had struck. Lucas helped position her. “You worry too much.”
“With due cause.”
She smiled as Lucas turned his gaze from her to glare at Simon and Jimmy. “I hope you both understand my orders. Loud and clear.”
“Yes, sir,” they chorused.
Rachel caught them smiling at one another. They had all become good friends.
A pretty black servant woman entered the room, her head bowed. “Pardon me. I must sweep and mop the room. Don’t mean to trouble you all,” she said.
Her broom clattered to the floor. Her hands rose to her cheeks. A horrendous scream pitched through the air. “Simon! Oh, Lordy, I don’t believe my eyes.”
“Mama. Is it really you?” Simon jumped up, knocking his chair over in the process. He dashed across the room and ran into her open arms. Both cried like babies, his mother using her apron to dab Simon’s eyes, then her own.
“I thought you died in the barn fire, Mama.”
“No, baby boy. The people who helped us get away wanted the bounty hunters to think that. I didn’t want to go without you, but they’d shoot me if I put everyone in danger. They had a large group to protect and promised they’d help you escape. On a return trip, they approached our old master’s plantation. Other slaves say you had run off and were not to be found or thought dead. I thought I’d lost you forever. Oh, God of mercy, thank you. This is a sweet day!”
Rachel glanced to Lucas. His cobalt eyes melted into hers. He was affected as much as she. In her heart, Rachel came to the sudden realization she had played a role in saving those persecuted from slavery. Not all. But some. Simon was wrapped in the gentle cocoon of his mother’s embrace when two soldiers appeared at the door and a very tall man entered.
“President Lincoln! This is a surprise, sir.” Lucas bolted to attention, followed by Jimmy and Simon.
Simon’s mother fainted dead away. Simon knelt on the floor, fanning her face.
“My ill looks do that to the females upon occasion,” Lincoln joked. “And how are you, Mrs. Rourke?”
“I’m doing fine, Uncle Abe. It’s good to see you again,” Rachel said. Lincoln took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Uncle Abe?” Lucas stared thunderstruck, aghast at her familiarity with the President.
Rachel laughed. “I expect a little of our history should come to light. President Lincoln and my father were lawyers who rode the circuit together in Illinois. Often, Uncle Abe visited our home.”
“I remember Rachel when she was this high.” Lincoln raised his hand three feet from the floor. “Used to bounce her on my knee back then. She was a rather serious, introspective child, headstrong in a lot of ways as I recall.” Lincoln paused to stroke his beard. “Since then she’s been an awful worry for me playing the role of the Saint. If anything had happened to her…I would have felt deeply responsible as her father was one of my dearest and most cherished friends.”
Lucas glanced at Rachel. “You told me you had friends in high places, it never occurred to me—”
