Free Captive Heart by Michele Paige Holmes Page A

for the next twelve hours, he was pretty certain he knew what was causing Emmalyne’s continued drowsiness. Fortunately, today Doctor Beckett was around to keep his wife out of the sickroom. Thayne fervently hoped they’d see vast improvement in their patient by evening.
    Thinking about Emmalyne and what the two of them would need to get to the Lakota camp and then home, Thayne paused in front of one of Sidney’s two general stores. He watched through the window as two women talked over a bolt of fabric, their heads bent in conversation. He thought of Emmalyne’s torn brown wool, her discarded corset, her ruined shoes. He hadn’t done right by her at all, and it was time he changed that—time he showed the woman he expected such great help from that he could provide all she needed. And even a little more.
    * * *
    “I need to send a telegraph,” Emmalyne insisted as she tried—with only partial success—to sit up in bed. Her head felt twice its normal weight, and the room spun dizzily, the man and woman standing over her moving in and out of focus. Emmalyne concentrated all her efforts on the woman. “I’m supposed to be in Sterling, but outlaws boarded our train. One abducted me and—”
    “I told you. She still needs that tonic.” Hands on hips, the woman looked from Emmalyne to the man beside her.
    He wagged a finger. “It’s the gosh-darned tonic caused her to hallucinate in the first place.”
    “You’re wrong, Arthur. For once, just please admit that you—are—wrong. Her husband told me she’s had nightmares ever since they were waylaid by those outlaws.”
    “I don’t have a husband!” Emmalyne’s voice was shrill, and she gripped the covers, pulling herself up straighter. “I’m a schoolteacher. I answered an advertisement to go to Colorado.”
    “There, there, dear.” The woman sent one more glare the doctor’s way then sat on the edge of the bed and took Emmalyne’s hand in her own. “I’m Mrs. Beckett, and this is my husband, Doc Beckett . I know it’s difficult, but let’s try to help you remember where you are. You were on your way to Colorado, just after you were married. ”
    “No—I . . .”
    “It’s only natural you’d forget,” Mrs. Beckett interrupted. “You were barely wed when those bandits stopped that train. You remember being on the train now, don’t you?”
    “Yes. But I’m not—”
    “Do you remember getting bitten by a snake?” she prodded.
    Emmalyne shuddered. She’d likely never forget. She had walked that day until she was certain her feet were going to fall off, and then out of nowhere, the snake had struck. “I’d almost made it. I was almost safe, and that horrid snake bit me.” Her temper flared again. She brought a hand to her head, massaging her temple as she looked up at the couple imploringly. “I was trying to get away, and I was even going to get help for Mr. Kendrich.”
    “Of course you were.” Mrs. Beckett reached for the bottle on the night table. “It must have been terrible.”
    “You have no idea,” Emmalyne said. “I nearly died in a fire. They shot him twice.”
    “Yes, yes. We saw his wounds. You were a good wife to treat him so carefully.” Mrs. Beckett arched an eyebrow and looked knowingly at her husband. He shook his head, but she turned her back on him, hand touching the tonic as she spoke soothingly to Emmalyne. “We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”
    “She’s already better.” Dr. Beckett towered over his wife. “Give me the bottle, Agatha, and go down and fix this poor woman something to eat.” He placed one hand on his wife’s shoulder while the other tried to pry the bottle from her fingers.
    “Arthur, I—”
    “ Now, Agatha.” His tone was stern, leaving no room for argument.
    Emmalyne shrank back onto the pillows, watching the peculiar exchange between her caretakers. With a huff, the woman stood, lips scowling, eyebrows drawn together. Her husband held his hand out, clearly expecting