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Those same protective feelings began to turn into something more as he got his first look at the sleeping woman.
At first, he couldn’t believe they were the same person. The beauty in his bed looked nothing like the skinny, dirt encrusted boy who’d shined his shoes. Her hair was long enough to reach past her shoulders, and it spread over the pillow like curly dark golden silk. Despite her wide nose and mouth, the bones of her face were delicate and exquisitely put together, reminding him of a beautiful doll. Unlike a doll, her skin wasn’t porcelain pale, but a golden tan that brought to mind beachside palaces in exotic lands.
“Lord have mercy on a sinner,” Edward whispered from behind Garret. “How did we miss that she was a woman?”
They both moved closer to the bed, then stopped as she stirred slightly. Her chapped lips pursed into a frown, and her elegantly arched brows drew tight. A deep cough rattled up from her chest, and she turned on her side, letting out a soft moan then settling back to sleep. Curled up wearing what looked like one of Edward’s sleep shirts, she appeared even smaller. A fragile, beautiful creature with velvety golden skin marred by bruises. The shirt had pulled over on one side, showing the dark bruising on her throat caused by her attacker.
Anger lit through him again, a righteous fire that demanded he go hunt down and kill the monsters who had abused this poor woman.
“Easy,” Edward whispered. “No anger in the sickroom. You remember Lady Uriel’s teachings. Positive energy, strength and purpose, but never anger.”
While overseas with the British Army, they’d lived in the court of a royal Lady Uriel and her husbands, who’d focused their life’s work on healing and spiritual enlightenment.
It had been quite a culture shock for both himself and Edward. They’d gone from the strict, sometimes repressive British society to one based on love and compassion. A culture where a wife having more than one husband was the norm. At first, Garret had been skeptical that such a relationship was even possible, but over time he’d grown to admire their way of life. Admire it and want it for both himself and his best friend.
Finding a woman in the States who would not only accept, but flourish with more than one husband was hard to do. All the men of Bridgewater practiced the lifestyle of one wife, many husbands, and more than a few had found their perfect matches. True, the courtship wasn’t always conventional, but every couple he knew were obviously happy and deeply in love. He wanted that. Wanted to have a wife to shower with affection, wanted a woman to share with his best friend. Someone to hold between them on cold nights, a female presence in the home that would bring it to life.
Edward stood shoulder to shoulder with Garrett as they both looked down on her sleeping form.
“I never thought the stories about knowing she’s the one were true,” Edward said as he glanced up at Garret, his blue eyes flashing with emotion. “Tell me, do you feel it?”
Relief filled Garrett as he nodded, glad he wasn’t the only one who was drawn to the little golden beauty snuggled in his bed. “Aye, I feel it as well. Do you think she’s the one?”
“Do you?”
There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in Garret’s gut or heart as he said, “Absolutely.”
“Too bad we don’t even know her name,” Edward sighed.
The young woman moaned softly in her sleep, her legs restless. Laying a hand on her brow Garret frowned as he felt the heat beginning to build beneath her skin. With the dirt washed from her face by the doctor and the hotel maid, he could see the older and fresh bruises marring her delicate bones. Compared to him, she really was a tiny thing, and he marveled that God trusted him with such a fragile beauty.
“She’s so dainty,” Garret murmured as he stroked back a piece of her hair sticking to the side of her face. “A woman like this should be cherished and sheltered. Like a butterfly.”
“But also incredibly strong,” Edward said as he answered the knock on the door, admitting a maid wheeling a cart full of food into the room. “Thank you.”
The young woman gave the bed a couple curious looks, but she said nothing as she set out their supper and then left.
He was hoping the smell of food would rouse ‘Roger’ from her sleep and allow them to speak to her and convince her to come home with them. News had come from the west that snow was on the way, and they needed to get back to the ranch before the high roads through the hills became impassable. They were supposed to have left tonight with a wagonload of supplies, but it seemed God had other plans for them.
As they ate their dinner, they both kept watch on the sleeping young woman while speaking in low voices.
“Way I see it, we have two options,” Edward said, wiping the remains of his meal off with the brown cloth napkin. “We can either leave in the morning, bundle her up, and hope the journey doesn’t injure her further, or we can wait a few more days and pray the weather holds out and we don’t get stuck in a pass.”
Garret leaned back and crossed his legs as he said, “Least we have the covered wagon. One of us can stay back there with her while the other one drives the team.” Garrett reached over to his saddlebag, pulling out his well-used ivory pipe. “If the roads hold out, and we push the team, we should be able to make it to Dove Spring and Mrs. Tibbs Inn in a day, maybe a day and a half. We can have Dr. Tibbs take a look at her and give her a chance to rest. Bridgewater is only a few hours north from there, so we can rest at the Inn until the roads are safe enough for the wagon to travel on.”
“Put that thing away,” Edward said in a voice so deep Garret swore he felt the floor shake as he glared at the pipe. “Smoke is not good in a sickroom.”
“Fine, fine,” Garrett muttered as he shoved the pipe back in the hard, brown leather satchel.
Most people would look at Edward and assume he was a brawler, that he beat up five men for breakfast and another ten before lunch. While it was true Edward could be a brute on the battlefield, at his core, he was as kindhearted as any man Garret had ever met. Lady Uriel used to say that Edward was born with the body of a warrior, but the heart of a poet.
Walking over to the sleeping woman’s side, Edward let out a soft sigh. “She is so beautiful, as golden as the dawn, but also as fragile as a crystal dove.”
Staring out the window, Garret looked out into the still busy evening streets and the constant rumble of wagons to and from the slaughterhouses. There was a frosty nip to the air, so even the soiled doves selling themselves had covered up their assets with thick shawls. Resting his hand on the cold glass of the window, Garret mulled over what to do.
Edward’s voice carried over the snapping of the fire in the hearth as he said, “The big oak tree near our house put out a lot of acorns this year. You know that means a bitter winter is on the way. Not to mention the thick ruff the neighbor’s cattle are growing around their necks.”
Both Garret and Edward had been born into farming families and carried the superstitions of their fathers. “True. The sky felt heavy today, and I noticed on our ride out the squirrels were looking fat.”
