A Heart's Blessing - Linda Ford Page 0,21
his name, he said, “Ezra, you are safe. You are in Willow Creek. You’ve been hurt but you are safe.”
The preacher quieted a moment then reached out again. He mumbled something.
Miss Morton made it to Ryder’s side. “Preacher Peabody, it’s Delcie Morton. You remember me. I’m one of those who runs the bakery and café.”
Again, the preacher’s calmness lasted but a moment, and then he tried again to reach for something.
“What does he want?” she asked.
“I wonder if he’s trying to defend himself.”
She shook her head. “It’s more like he’s searching for something. Maybe his Bible.”
At the word, the preacher turned toward them and mumbled something.
Miss Morton went to the door and spoke softly to Miss Fisher. A moment later, she returned and pressed a black leather Bible into the preacher’s hands. The preacher sighed and quieted.
“Well, isn’t that something?” Ryder asked. He couldn’t tell if Ezra rested, slept, or was again unconscious.
“Not really surprising. We all like to have certain things around us.”
“What would you want with you?” he asked her.
“That’s easy. The children.”
Her answer surprised him though it shouldn’t have. He’d already decided she must be very determined to bring two children west as a single woman.
“What made you want to come west?”
Her answer didn’t come immediately and then it was short both in length and in delivery. “Circumstances.” Then, as if fearing he would seek more details, she asked, “What brought you west?”
He considered his answer. How would she react if he told the truth? But he didn’t intend to. “Circumstances.”
Her laugh was short. “I don’t expect they were the same as mine.”
The preacher stirred again and muttered something, then seemed upset that they didn’t respond as he wished.
“I need to change that dressing.” She gently unwrapped the affair and lifted the pad from his wounds. She watched and waited. “I think they’ve quit bleeding. That’s a relief.”
Ryder held Ezra’s head as she put on clean dressing.
A noise came from the dining room and then Burnsie appeared at the door. He signaled Ryder to come. They retired to the dining room where they could talk.
“How is he?” Burnsie asked.
Ryder gave a report.
“Outta his mind, eh?”
“He’s badly injured.” Ryder knew that provided the answer. Only time would tell if the preacher would survive his attack.
“Four men rode out to look for the scoundrels.” Burnsie’s tone left no doubt as to what he thought of the attack. “Five miles is far too close to town fer me likin’. Ain’t none of us gonna feel safe until whoever done this is locked up. Sure wish the Mountie was here, but he’s not, so we’ll do the best we can.”
Ryder hadn’t considered that danger still existed, which was a major oversight on his behalf. “I’ll stay here until they are found.”
“I was hopin’ you’d say that. You got a firearm? I could provide ya one if ya need it.”
The preacher’s voice reached them.
“He sounds upset. I better go see what I can do to help.” Ryder hurried back to the room where Miss Morton had her hands on the man’s shoulders and was speaking softly to him. But her voice failed to calm him.
She looked up at Ryder’s entrance. “He needs to lie still.”
“Ezra, you are safe. No one is going to hurt you now.” Except the threat wasn’t over. Would the preacher be in danger because he could recognize his attackers? Were they all in danger?
Ezra continued to thrash and throw his arms around, mumbling.
Miss Morton tried to still his hands but he pulled away.
“Should I restrain him?” Ryder didn’t want to, but this was not good for the man.
“Let me try something.” Looking at the preacher, Miss Morton began to sing. “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty.”
By the time she reached the third holy, the preacher calmed. She sang a few more minutes.
The preacher remained settled.
“Is he sleeping?” she whispered.
“I don’t know, but at least he isn’t in distress.”
The children came to say goodnight. Miss Morton hobbled to the door to kiss them. And perhaps to shield them from seeing the patient. It brought to mind a question that he must ask of her.
He waited until the children were gone and Miss Morton again at the preacher’s bedside to voice it. “You said your cousin was shot. Did the children witness it?” He couldn’t imagine how little ones would deal with such memories.
Miss Morton’s face grew white as the sheets covering the preacher. “They did not.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Children should not witness violence.” At least his Myra