She thought of Kris, his offer of marriage and his disappointment at the choices she’d made. Marriage to him would have been perfect…more than she could have ever dreamed. But it would never be. Blinking away the tears, she focused on her plans.
She would stay in River’s Bend as long as she could, until her condition became noticeable. By then, Rebekah should be feeling well enough that Maggie wouldn’t be needed any longer and she might find a sympathetic couple who’d let her travel in their wagon.
If she were fortunate enough to find a family who needed help with the children, or the cooking, she could work for the rest of her passage to Denver.
The only flaw in her plan was Kris. Staying in town meant seeing him—and she didn’t know if her heart could take it. Now that she knew what being in love meant, what love truly felt like, she couldn’t believe she’d fallen for Albert and his pack of lies.
A pounding on the front door startled her. Before Maggie could remove her apron, the door burst open and Deputy Owens practically ran down the hallway. “Miss Rebekah? Miss—” He looked around frantically. “Where’s Miss Rebekah?”
“At the Hawkens’. What is it?”
“Come on.” He grabbed Maggie’s hand and pulled her toward the door.
“Wait! The stove.” She wrenched free. “What’s wrong?”
“One of the…” The man hesitated, blushed an amazing color of rose, then started tugging again. “One of the soiled doves is bleeding, bad. Doc says he needs his wife’s help, but she ain’t here. You are.”
“But you—”
“Faint at the sight of blood. You don’t.” He paused as a thought occurred. “Do you?”
“Of course not, but someone the young woman knows should be with her.”
The deputy tensed, a frown bringing his bushy blond brows together over his long, narrow nose. There was more here than a stranger being beaten.
“Someone found her in a heap behind the saloon. Doc said there’s too much blood and mud and—”
“No time to lose.” Maggie moved the food off the heat, pushed the wood apart to bank the fire and grabbed her cloak. “Is there soap and hot water and sufficient cloths?”
“I think so.”
“Wait here a minute.” Maggie lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs. Dumping items out of her one small bag, she stuffed in every medicinal herb she had and raced out again. “Ready. Where is the poor girl?”
Rather than answer, Owens snagged her hand, and together they hurried toward the river. As they passed a livery, he turned down a narrow side street that descended slightly. Maggie could smell the water, cold and sluggish. The buildings here were not as well-kept, but there were plenty of patrons milling in the street.
“This way,” he muttered as she slipped between an empty bank building and a saloon with The Scarlet Dove painted on a sign swinging above the door. Climbing a set of rickety stairs, they gained the upper rooms without being seen.
The hallway was dimly lit, painted with whitewash and despair. Owens pressed a finger to his lips in an unnecessary request for silence. Maggie wouldn’t say a word in this place where such hopelessness stained the air.
He led the way through a door at the far end of the hallway. By the light of a single lantern, Maggie saw Franz bent over a young woman. The sheets were soaked with sweat and blood.
Maggie wasn’t a doctor, but she knew what had happened. What the poor girl had tried to do. “Tell me what to do.”
“Good, Maggie, you’re here.” Franz looked up as she spoke.
“I’m gonna go wait for, uh...” Dwight glanced at the doctor, spotted the patient—and the bed—and tripped over his feet getting out of the room.
“Maggie, this is Petunia, but the customers call her Pet.” His disdain at the men who’d named her was obvious. “See if you can ease her pain and look at the gash on her forehead. I have to stop this bleeding.”
When had she become the doctor’s assistant? Where was Martha? “Certainly, Doctor.”
Opening her bag, Maggie glanced at the other woman in the room. With a jolt, she realized the girl couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“They call me Daisy, ma’am.”
“Well, Daisy, I need a bucket full of hot water, some brandy if you have it, and a mug of tea.”
“I have a little whiskey in my room.” Her smile was sweet, but faded quickly. “And there’s water in the kitchen.”
Maggie smiled gently. “Bring the whiskey first, then go see about the water, please.”
“Only if it’s safe.” Franz stopped Daisy. “Don’t put yourself at risk. We can make do with the water from the girl’s rooms, if we must.”
“It’s okay, Doc. We’re allowed water for washing up after. I can bring it to you.” She slipped out the door and let out a squeak of surprise.
“Apologies, miss. I’m looking for the doctor.”
“In there, sir.”
Maggie didn’t need to look up to see who it was. Her insides lifted at the sound of Kris’s voice. As Daisy’s footsteps pattered away, Kris stepped into the room and closed the door.
“Dwight said I’d find you both here.”