Eve, she was thinking, unaccountably. He called me Eve.

CHAPTER

6

ABIGAIL CRIED OUT and clapped both hands over her mouth when she saw Scully, leaning on her mother as they came through the door. Evangeline’s petticoat bandage had done little to stay the flow of blood from his shoulder, and even in the wavering light of the lanterns, he looked gray as a corpse. His clothes were soaked crimson.

Evangeline knew she would not be able to get Scully as far as the lean-to; she was about to give way under his weight as it was. Therefore, she brought him to the bed she and Abigail normally shared and lowered him to the mattress as gently as she could. He immediately blacked out.

While she began peeling away his ruined coat and the shirt beneath, she spoke calmly to her daughter, but with unaccustomed firmness. Her words were measured and clearly enunciated, for she could spare neither the time nor the effort to repeat them. “Abigail, you must listen very carefully. Scully has been shot—it was an arrow, through his right shoulder. I think I can help him, but I will need your cooperation. Will you please bring me a basin of hot water from the stove reservoir—be careful not to burn yourself—and one of the sheets we aired today?”

Scully groaned; she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. Behind her, she heard Abigail raising the heavy lid of the reservoir, ladling water into the enamel washbasin. She brought that to her mother in silence, splashing only a little, then returned promptly, almost obscured by the sheet she’d wadded into both arms.

“Bessie’s wailing, Mama,” Abigail said, in a tiny voice. “She sounds awful.”

Evangeline was already cleaning Scully’s wounds, trying to get a good look. “I know, darling. I hear her, too. She wants to be milked. But I’ve got to take care of Scully first. Could you bring me a lamp now, please?”

“Is Scully fixing to die?” Abigail fetched the requested item over the course of her question.

Evangeline paused to turn up the lamp, which was burning low, and set it on the window sill overhead. Then she met Abigail’s wide, terrified eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. To lie to the child would be neither kind nor prudent. “I’ll do everything I can to help him. That’s all I can promise. You can do your part by looking after Hortense and bringing me things when I ask for them, just like you’ve been doing.”

Abigail nodded. She was holding the squirming kitten tightly against her chest, the way she’d held the sheet. “I’m scared, Mama.”

“Me, too,” Evangeline agreed, turning back to Scully again. “There is a bottle of whiskey in the pantry, on the second shelf. Do you know what whiskey is, Abigail? It looks a little like tea. I’ll need that next.”