Free Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] by Key on the Quilt

Georgia returned from taking another bowl of clean, warm water into the other room, Ellen looked up at her solemn face and said, “Take Jane with you back upstairs. Get some things out of the trunk. The key’s in my jewelry box on the dresser.”
    Georgia tilted her head. “You sure?”
    The baby in her arms mewled softly, squirming and burrowing close. Ellen blinked back tears. Nodded. “I’m sure.”
    Georgia swept out of the room.

    Jane had followed Georgia halfway up the front stairs when the doctor called after them. “Do you have any surgical experience, Georgia?”
    Jane looked over at the willowy house keeper just as the woman put a hand on the stair railing, seemingly to steady herself. “Some. If you mean stitching.”
    “Good. I need extra hands.” He spoke again to Vestal. “Now, Vestal, you stay with us. There’s some repair work here to be done, but it’s nothing I can’t handle and nothing for you to worry over.” He raised his voice and pointed the next words toward the kitchen. “Mrs. McKenna’s just now bringing your little girl back in here. You listen to those baby sounds, you hear?”
    Jane glanced toward the kitchen just as Mrs. McKenna appeared in the doorway. Were those tears on her cheeks? All that was visible of Vestal’s baby was a tiny shock of red hair peeking out of the dishcloth Mrs. McKenna had used to swaddle her.
    As the doctor worked, Mrs. McKenna held the baby close to Vestal’s cheek. “Feel that?” she murmured. “That’s the very breath of life, Vestal. She’s already punched me with her tiny fists. She’s a fighter. You fight, too, now. You hear?”
    As the doctor directed Georgia to position Vestal’s legs so that he could repair the damage done when the baby tore her way into the world, Mrs. McKenna glanced up to where Jane waited. Then scooping the baby up again, she pulled her close and headed up the stairs.

    Warden McKenna regained consciousness with a roar that Mamie thought likely to be heard halfway to Lincoln. He blurted out a couple of swear words even as he pushed himself to a sitting position. Scowling, he felt the bump on his head, then the place under his jawline where Pearl’s weapon had pricked the skin. He ordered J. B. to help him into the chair he’d slid out of not long ago and then began to fire questions.
    “The prisoner?”
    “Captain just took her to solitary. She stabbed Underhill.”
    “How bad is it?”
    J. B. shrugged. “Not too bad. All Underhill seemed to care about was Miss Dawson.”
    Mamie’s cheeks flamed at the words, even as she realized they were true. Martin had risked himself for… well… not
only
for her. Ivy and the warden were in danger, too.
    The warden didn’t comment. He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head, wincing with the effort even as he looked up at Mamie. “You’re all right?”
    She nodded.
    One of the guards stepped forward. “Not meaning any disrespect, sir, but you’ve had a blow to the head. It might be a good idea to let the doctor—“
    “I will,” the warden said. “Just as soon as I know what all’s gone on here.” He reached up to feel the bump on his head again. “I’d be obliged, Miss Dawson, if you’d sit for a moment and tell me what I missed.” He glanced around them. “Obviously it was something… of note.”
    Mamie described the scene she and Ivy and Martin had come upon. “He launched himself across the room before Pearl had a second to react. It was….” She paused. “Very quick thinking, sir. And very brave, to my mind.”
    The warden nodded. Grasping the back of the chair for support, he stood up, wavered momentarily, then seemed to recover. “I’ll have more questions, Miss Dawson, if you’ll make your way to my office in about half an hour.” He glanced at the captain. “For now, though, let’s check in on Underhill.” At the doorway, he paused and waved for Mamie to precede him. He gave orders for the women’s ward to be attended in