Free Tracie Peterson by A Place to Belong

violently. A bearded Garrett Lucas rushed into the room to her side.
    “Try to take a sip of water,” he said, gently supporting her back while handing her a tin cup. Maggie did as he said and found her cough abated somewhat.
    “What happened? Where are we?” Maggie whispered hoarsely. She was puzzled that Garrett wore a beard and his attire had so drastically changed since last she’d seen him on the train.
    Garrett went to the small cook stove and returned with the cup.
    “Drink this,” he instructed.
    Maggie took the cup and looked inside. It held a thick black syrup. “What is it?” she questioned skeptically.
    “It’s medicine to clear out your lungs,” Garrett replied, concern hanging thick in his voice.
    “Your stomach too, I’d venture to say,” Maggie said, trying to lighten his mood.
    Garrett laughed at Maggie’s words. It was so good to hear her speak, even if to question his actions.
    “I’m glad I amuse you, but what in the world has happened? I remember walking out of Newton, and the terrible storms, but after that. . .” Maggie paused trying her best to remember.
    “Drink first, and then we’ll talk,” Garrett said, pointing to the cup. Maggie screwed up her face at the thought of drinking the medicine but did as Garrett instructed. The blend wasn’t so bad. Maggie finished it and held the empty cup up as proof.
    Garrett set the cup aside and pulled up a crude wooden chair. “Now, I believe we have some things to discuss.” His dark brown hair was a bit wild, and the beard made him look older.
    Maggie was captivated by the way Garrett looked, but she refused to acknowledge even the slightest admiration. She waited for Garrett to contin ue.
    “I don’t know what in the world you were thinking, getting off a train in the middle of the night,” Garrett tried unsuccessfully to sound stern. When he looked at Maggie, even in her sickly state, she was all he’d ever wanted. She was beautiful, intelligent, hardworking, and resourceful—although, he would have to teach her a bit more about that last quality.
    “I wanted to go home to my grandmother,” Maggie offered lamely.
    Garrett ignored her remark. “I went to let you know the train was turning back because of the flood waters. I had the porter open your door when you didn’t answer, and—” His voice caught. “I felt like dying inside when I saw you were gone.”
    “Father would have been quite miffed with you, eh?” Maggie teased, still refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation.
    “Don’t you know how close you came to dying?” Garrett’s face contort ed painfully.
    “I suppose very close.”
    “You suppose that, do you? Well, if I hadn’t come riding up when I did, you wouldn’t have lived another hour. You were drenched to the bone and nearly unconscious. I was lucky enough to locate a doctor. He and his wife agreed to let us stay here in their dugout.”
    “So, this is a dugout?” Maggie murmured while looking around the small room. Everything seemed to touch. What little furniture she could see was poorly put together, not at all what one would expect a doctor to have. The dugout had been dug by hand, some six or eight feet into the earth. The roof rose above the prairie only two or three feet.
    “Yes, this is a dugout. But that isn’t the issue. Maggie, please promise me you won’t run away again. I can’t imagine returning to your father or grandmother and explaining that you got yourself killed.”
    Maggie could sense the genuine concern in Garrett’s voice. Why did he care so much? He hardly knew her.
    “I’m sorry, Garrett. I shouldn’t have run, but I was scared. I kept thinking about never seeing Grandmother again. Then I thought about having to face my father and his condemnation. All that along with what it would be like to. . .” Her words faded as she nearly mentioned the idea of becoming Garrett’s wife. Embarrassed, Maggie lowered her face.
    “I put a great deal of pressure