Page 35 of Cloaked in Beauty

Keeping hold of Calvin’s hand, Letty straightened and led the way to where Steele stood in the dirt at the base of the rock. Spotting the long coil of rope tied to the side of Philip’s saddle, Letty headed there first. Releasing Calvin’s hand, she untied the leather thongs holding the rope in place, then handed it down to the boy.

“Here. Take this to Mr. Carmichael.”

He jabbed his arm through the loop, then pushed it up over his shoulder. The boy was obviously no stranger to carting such supplies. Like a little soldier who’d received his orders, Calvin spun around and ran toward Philip.

“Don’t go near the edge,” Letty called after him, worried the child’s concern for his brother might make him incautious.

She watched him for a moment, glad when Philip stepped around to the backside of a tree growing along the rim and intercepted Calvin several feet from the ravine. Trusting Philip to keep an eye on the boy, Letty turned her attention to collecting the medical supplies. She found them beneath a rain slicker in a small satchel. Working quickly, she unfastened the straps that moored it to the saddle, then hurried to join the others.

Philip glanced up at her approach and accepted the bag she held out to him. “Thanks.” He stretched the strap over his head and pushed one arm through so the bag hung across his body. Then he gave the rope he’d just knotted around the base of a loblolly pine a hard yank. He appeared convinced that it would hold his weight, but she couldn’t help worrying just a little. Philip had proven himself quite capable, but dropping into a ravine didn’t seem like the type of skill most Pinkertons would be required to perform on a regular basis. What if something went wrong?

She kept her doubts to herself, though, not wanting them to damage the confidence of either male in her vicinity. Besides, she’d likely have to traverse the rope herself to lend assistance once Philip assessed the damage. Thankfully, the ravine’s drop was only sheer at the top. After the first eight to ten feet, it became more of a steep slope than a cliff. The rope would simply provide the stability needed to descend in a controlled manner. She could manage it.

Philip tossed the remainder of the rope into the ravine. It failed to reach the bottom, but it would get them past the steepest sections.

“I’ll watch you go down, then follow after you.”

Philip’s gaze slammed into hers with all the softness of a sledgehammer hitting iron. “No, ma’am. You’re staying here.”

“But you’ll need my help with Dennis. How will you ever get him back up here on your own?”

“I’ll manage.”

“But—”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Letty.” He skewered her with a glare that made her ribs ache. Then his gaze darted to Calvin and back. “Watch over the boy. He needs you more than I do at the moment.”

The pronouncement only intensified her rib ache.

Pressing her lips together to keep her hurt from leaking out, she nodded her acceptance. He nodded as well, and a few of the storm clouds cleared from his gray eyes. He moved into position at the edge of the rock, swung the medical bag around to his back, then gripped the rope.

“Wait!” Watching that bag swing gave her an idea.

Letty ran to her mare and unfastened her bedroll. She flung it open on the ground, grabbed the thin blanket from inside, then ran back to Philip.

“Here.” She thrust it toward him. “You can use it like a sling to strap the boy to your back before making the climb back up.”

His brows raised slightly, but he accepted the offering and draped it around the strap on the medical bag.

“Thanks.”

Not wanting him to leave with anger sparking between them, she touched his arm, hoping he could sense her support. “Be careful, Philip.”

His face softened, and the ache in her ribs eased just a bit. “I will.”

Then before she could say anything else, he dropped over the side and disappeared from view.

16

Philip set his jaw as the rope slid slowly through his hands. He peered over one shoulder to keep an eye on where he planted each foot. He’d not do the kid any good with a twisted ankle. If the kid was even alive.

His throat tightened as he widened his scope to take in the young man. Dennis still hadn’t moved. One of his arms seemed to be lying at an unnatural angle, too. Not a good sign.

Please let him be alive, Lord.

No parent should have to bury a child. It went against the natural order. Yet far too many children found their way into early graves. Like Andrew. His brother would have been twenty-five this year had he not contracted diphtheria at the age of six. Philip still remembered standing in the cemetery next to his father, hearing his mother weep softly, and feeling his sister slip her tiny hand into his. As the oldest, it was his job to protect the younger ones, and although he understood he had no power to thwart sickness, it still felt as if he’d failed somehow. He’d been around Calvin’s age when he’d dropped that handful of dirt onto his brother’s coffin, the damp clod making a mournful thump as it hit pine.

Philip yanked his gaze from Dennis and his mind from his memories and forced himself to concentrate on placing one step after another. When he reached the end of the rope, he pivoted to face downhill and half trotted, half skidded the last ten or so feet. He hunkered beside the unconscious boy, careful not to bump him. Turning his cheek, Philip pressed his ear close to Dennis’s mouth, praying that he’d feel the warmth of breath. A slight wheeze sounded, and Philip zeroed in on the kid’s chest. It moved.