Lila jumped, startled at the voice and against her wayward thoughts. “Oh, Mr. Tibbett.” She wiped her face, turned her back to hang her outerwear and breathe deep calming breaths. “I was so worried.” The lie came easy, and she hated herself. “And I’m so pleased she is peaceful. Thanks kindly for staying. Bronx...Mr. Sanderson is on his way.”
“I got coffee going on the potbelly. I’ll be off, now. What’s Miz Frieda serving up for supper?”
Lila wrinkled her nose. “Venison stew, but she’s done better. You might find better comfort in the chicken broth. I’m dishing up some for Malina.” But at least she’d sat near to Bronx as they ate, walked close at his side the half-mile to Gethsemane. The scent that was him, all of him—hard work, mountain air, even the clouds at the top of the world—lingered in her nostrils despite her tears.
With a kind hand, Asa touched her arm. “Well, I best not fret my woman. I can stomach just about anything. I’ll be off now.” Plunking his worn Stetson low to his ears, her old friend grinned and quickly shut the door. Slow but efficient, Lila strode about the big room, lighting candles and glass lanterns and the sconces on the wall, like she did every night.
“I’m better, Lila. I promise you,” Malina called out from the big bed where Lila had once slept with Emmett. She rushed in and Malina smiled, weak but brave. “I promise.”
In the candle glow, Malina’s pale face had pinked in all the right spots, and her cheeks no longer blazed to the touch.
“You do feel cooler. And I have broth for you. It’ll help with comfort and strength. Give me a moment.” Lila hustled to pour a cup of the broth. Her worry percolated, no matter Emmett had railed about trusting in God. She had done just that, oh, they both had. Yet, he’d died anyway, probably surprising himself. She had no idea if Malina was healing, past danger, or other symptoms might rear.
But she didn’t fear contagion. She had survived worse.
She dished up with more energy than she needed, for more tears brewed. Emmett. Always Emmett. Oh, she had loved Emmett once, had done all she could for his own comfort and health. She had no guilt, there. But as a wife, could she have done better?
Could she do better for anybody else? Well, Malina needed her now. That Lila could do.
“Lila, I can feed myself. You should set up for prayers.”
“No. I won’t be holding services tonight.” Lila rolled another pillow behind Malina’s back. “You need peace and quiet, and I...”
“You don’t want my disease to spread. I’m much better, I promise. Mr. Tibbett said I didn’t cough the whole time he was here.”
“I know, I know.” Lila waved a spoonful close, but Malina grabbed it with a frown and did it herself, so Lila stepped back, sat at the end of the bed. “But I still hope Doc Holliday might stop by. Or Dr. Newell. I truly would like you to bunk at the boardinghouse until you are on your feet. It’s warmer there, and...my landlady has nursing skills. In the morning.”
Malina took a few sips, then sighed as if the motion had wearied her. “Don’t trouble yourself, Miz Lila. I can already imagine her complaints about me.” The unnatural flush of embarrassment colored her face for a flash. “Although I have honest money to pay for my board. And I’d like to know how Clemmons fares. But right now, I would like to sleep again.”
“Rest is what you need. So sorry I woke you. We’ll talk more in the morning. I won’t leave you.”
“Yes, you better sleep out there. Case I am catching.” Malina frowned. “Please? You’ll be close enough, should I need.”
“All right, then,” Lila kept a healthful distance and tucked the covers up to Malina’s neck, as if she were a child. The situation then so demanded it, she sang the lullaby that comforted so many other lost souls who happened upon Gethsemane.
Lila had forgotten how sweet her voice sounded.
The strong footsteps up the front step sounded no alarm inside her, for already, she recognized Bronx’s stride. Her heart hammered until she begged it to halt. In another life, she would be a regular woman and might suit a handsome man from the mountains, but...
“Lila? It’s Bronx.”
She closed the sleeping room door and rushed to let him in. Her eagerness could not be contained. Her blood ran hot and fast despite all the impossibilities.
His smile told many things. “Pleased you locked up.”
“Well, it is just two girls here.” She trembled under his gaze, both relieved and disappointed when he busied himself divesting Emmett’s overcoat. Emmett. She grumbled, and hoped Bronx hadn’t heard. “How...did you find Doc Holliday?”
Bronx rolled his eyes and came to her side. “Yep. I’ll find that other doctor in the night, if you need. Because Doc’s well into a second bottle, and no good to us tonight, I fear. He…uh…” He looked away as if deciding to say something else, but not.