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Authors: Jodi Thomas
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kitchen was deserted, the stove cold.
“He usually starts the coffee by first light,” Molly whispered, running through the room to where her friend slept in the back. “He’s always up and dressed by dawn.”
Molly drew in a deep breath before she opened his door as if she feared it might be her last.
Wolf stood close behind her, ready to help with whatever met them.
For a moment, when she pushed the door wide, he saw nothing. Only lazy dust motes drifting in a beam of white sunshine shifting through the window. Then, slowly the room washed into focus like something rising to the surface from deep water.
Ephraim lay on his side, a pool of blood circling the sheet below his mouth. His thin hands were twisted into a blanket in a last desperate clutch at life.
Molly cried his name softly as she knelt beside him. She brushed thin gray strands of hair back from his face. “Ephraim,” she whispered, “oh, Ephraim.”
“I can’t make formation this morning, General,” he mumbled. “I’m under the weather.”
“Ephraim.” She blotted at his mouth with a clean corner of the sheet. “Why didn’t you tell me? You need medicine. I can fix you something for the pain.”
The old man rolled onto his back. His eyes cleared. He stared at her. His expression seemed to ask who she was, or maybe where he was.
A coughing fit racked his body. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and weak. “I’ve been around hospitals and dying all my life. I know when it’s time. The medicine will ease the pain, but it’ll take my mind. I’d prefer to meet my Maker with as many of my faculties working as I can muster.”
Molly shook her head violently as if she could rid herself of the sight of him dying.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I promised your father I’d take care of you.” He lifted his hand to her cheek. “Brave little Molly, always trying to be as strong as the general. Go back home. This wild land is not for you.”
“Only if you’ll go with me, Ephraim.” Tears ran unchecked down Molly’s face. “I’ll go back. We can live at Allen Farm with the aunts. We’ll fish for our breakfast like we used to do when I was a kid.”
Ephraim shook his head. “I can’t go this time,” he whispered. “My tour of duty is over.”
He coughed again. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “Don’t spend your life alone. Promise me, Molly.”
She was crying so hard she couldn’t speak, fighting back sobs with gulps.
Ephraim reached for her with wrinkled fingers. His watery blue eyes closed. For a moment Molly and Wolf were quiet, waiting for the ragged breathing to start up once more. The plop of a drop of blood falling from his mouth to the sheet seemed as loud as the gunfire had been earlier.
Silence hung stagnant in the air as the old man’s hand slid along her arm and came to rest on the bed.
Wolf watched Molly for a long while. He wanted to touch her, comfort her, but he wasn’t sure she’d welcome him interfering in her private grief.
Slowly, she pulled her feelings close around her. Her back straightened and her chin lifted. She’d not share her grief any more than she shared her life.
She stood, tucking the covers around Ephraim as if he were only sleeping. “If you’ll tell Miller he has work, Captain, I’ll dress. I’ll have to ask you to watch Callie Ann while I make arrangements. There is no need for Ephraim to lie in state. No one knew him in this town. As soon as I can find a preacher and have the grave dug, we’ll have a service.”
Most folks would have been shocked by her cool manner, but Wolf saw the general’s daughter in her once again. How many times during the war had she watched her father do what had to be done without time to allow feelings to interfere? How many times had she pushed her own needs aside to do what she had to do? She’d grown up in the hospitals of war. She’d grown up around death.
As she turned to leave, she flinched with pain, but didn’t
“He usually starts the coffee by first light,” Molly whispered, running through the room to where her friend slept in the back. “He’s always up and dressed by dawn.”
Molly drew in a deep breath before she opened his door as if she feared it might be her last.
Wolf stood close behind her, ready to help with whatever met them.
For a moment, when she pushed the door wide, he saw nothing. Only lazy dust motes drifting in a beam of white sunshine shifting through the window. Then, slowly the room washed into focus like something rising to the surface from deep water.
Ephraim lay on his side, a pool of blood circling the sheet below his mouth. His thin hands were twisted into a blanket in a last desperate clutch at life.
Molly cried his name softly as she knelt beside him. She brushed thin gray strands of hair back from his face. “Ephraim,” she whispered, “oh, Ephraim.”
“I can’t make formation this morning, General,” he mumbled. “I’m under the weather.”
“Ephraim.” She blotted at his mouth with a clean corner of the sheet. “Why didn’t you tell me? You need medicine. I can fix you something for the pain.”
The old man rolled onto his back. His eyes cleared. He stared at her. His expression seemed to ask who she was, or maybe where he was.
A coughing fit racked his body. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and weak. “I’ve been around hospitals and dying all my life. I know when it’s time. The medicine will ease the pain, but it’ll take my mind. I’d prefer to meet my Maker with as many of my faculties working as I can muster.”
Molly shook her head violently as if she could rid herself of the sight of him dying.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I promised your father I’d take care of you.” He lifted his hand to her cheek. “Brave little Molly, always trying to be as strong as the general. Go back home. This wild land is not for you.”
“Only if you’ll go with me, Ephraim.” Tears ran unchecked down Molly’s face. “I’ll go back. We can live at Allen Farm with the aunts. We’ll fish for our breakfast like we used to do when I was a kid.”
Ephraim shook his head. “I can’t go this time,” he whispered. “My tour of duty is over.”
He coughed again. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “Don’t spend your life alone. Promise me, Molly.”
She was crying so hard she couldn’t speak, fighting back sobs with gulps.
Ephraim reached for her with wrinkled fingers. His watery blue eyes closed. For a moment Molly and Wolf were quiet, waiting for the ragged breathing to start up once more. The plop of a drop of blood falling from his mouth to the sheet seemed as loud as the gunfire had been earlier.
Silence hung stagnant in the air as the old man’s hand slid along her arm and came to rest on the bed.
Wolf watched Molly for a long while. He wanted to touch her, comfort her, but he wasn’t sure she’d welcome him interfering in her private grief.
Slowly, she pulled her feelings close around her. Her back straightened and her chin lifted. She’d not share her grief any more than she shared her life.
She stood, tucking the covers around Ephraim as if he were only sleeping. “If you’ll tell Miller he has work, Captain, I’ll dress. I’ll have to ask you to watch Callie Ann while I make arrangements. There is no need for Ephraim to lie in state. No one knew him in this town. As soon as I can find a preacher and have the grave dug, we’ll have a service.”
Most folks would have been shocked by her cool manner, but Wolf saw the general’s daughter in her once again. How many times during the war had she watched her father do what had to be done without time to allow feelings to interfere? How many times had she pushed her own needs aside to do what she had to do? She’d grown up in the hospitals of war. She’d grown up around death.
As she turned to leave, she flinched with pain, but didn’t
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