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The Tarnished Necklace. Trish Inc. DuffinЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Tarnished Necklace - Trish Inc. Duffin


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was relieved to see that he was alive. “I saw the doctor, he will be here shortly. He said to make sure someone is always with him in case he chokes or vomits,” his nose telling him that they had already discovered that. He sat down, suddenly weary. “I also know who was making that screaming that we heard earlier. When I got to the doctor’s young Damien Brown was there with what looks like a badly injured leg. His friends Ezra, John and Jasper were there. They all look like they had been in a fight.”

      Susan put her hand to her heart. “What are you saying Andrew?” she asked before sitting down on a chair.

      “I’m saying that those four are responsible for Peter’s injuries.” His voice was cold and bitter. Susan made him a cup of coffee and he quietly sat there looking over to the young man. Maria sat beside Peter, tucking blankets up around his chin. A fine tremor rippled through him and he moaned before lapsing back into unconsciousness. His head was bandaged well and his face cleaned up but it was still in a state. The bleeding was under control but, judging by the dark staining seeping through the bandages, it hadn’t completely stopped. Grace came in and climbed on Susan’s lap, big blue eyes focussed on the floor.

      Susan frowned, “I’m just not making sense of any of this.” She looked over to her daughter who was also looking like she was in shock. “Maria, do you have any idea why this happened?”

      Maria shook her head. Why would they have had a fight? A seed of suspicion came into her mind but she discarded it. Surely the fight couldn’t have been over her? She thought back to the tender kisses they had exchanged only minutes before this brutality. Surely Jasper hadn’t been watching her? She had sent that note though, telling him she didn’t hold any affection for him. The only answer to this question was lying beside her and in no condition to talk.

      For the next while the house was quiet as Susan prepared dinner. Maria remained firmly beside the patient. Andrew went and chopped wood, partly out of necessity, partly out of intense frustration. His task was interrupted by the arrival of Doctor Jackson and Stanley Peterson. The two men went into the house and the girls were sent out. The doctor carefully unwrapped the bandages and meticulously checked Peter from head to toe. He was beginning to come to again but was dazed, confused and in considerable pain. He couldn’t answer simple questions and certainly wasn’t able to explain what happened.

      The three men sat to one side. Stanley was quite upset over the seriousness of Peter’s injuries and his son’s apparent involvement in it. Jasper had been quite evasive in his explanations, the other two boys were equally unwilling to give a satisfactory answer. One thing was fairly evident though, they knew more than they let on. The doctor gave his opinion. The cuts and bruising would obviously heal. His collar bone was possibly broken, but with strapping that shouldn’t pose too much of a problem other than inconvenience. The blood loss was considerable but it wasn’t life threatening. He had several broken ribs which were causing excruciating pain, made worse every time he dry retched. What was of most concern was the head injury. Realistically it was going to be a slow healing process with the expectation of swinging moods, severe headaches, extreme fatigue and possible long term clumsiness. The list was long and quite depressing.

      As the diagnosis was being given Peter was again was caught in the terrible grip of vomiting, his ribs screaming in protest. The most immediate concern was the effects of severe pain and shock. Little could be done about that other that keeping him warm and reassured. The doctor felt helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do to offer pain relief, other than willow bark infusions, hot mustard, honey for the open wounds and strapping for the collar bone and ribs. What was apparent was that Peter was not going to be able to do any more harvesting. They were in the middle of the harvest and the fields were filled with crops still to be reaped. Andrew always struggled to get his farm tended to, there was no way he was going to be able to cover Peter’s farm as well.

      Stanley got around that little problem easily. “My son will be doing that. I may just be a store owner Andrew, but I know that you are in a right pickle if that harvest doesn’t come in. Jasper will be here tomorrow morning and do ten hour days, even if it is chopping wood. I will personally bring him down and make sure he does a full day’s work before I pick him up in the evening. Also I will stop by Ezra and John’s place tonight to talk to their parents. With their co-operation you will have the three of them working on your land until your harvest is in.” He looked over to Peter and thought for a second. “I think it would be best if the boys meet you in the fields and stay there, I don’t want them coming to the house. You have all gone through enough stress.”

      Andrew looked Stanley in the eye and expressed his gratitude. It was hard to be so practical when faced with such serious injuries, but it was a fact. If the harvest didn’t come in, then his family would be seriously affected. The men shook hands and left. Andrew turned back to his wife and daughters. The next few weeks were going to be tough. He crouched down on the floor and suggested the family gather around and pray, which they did.

      Chapter 14 The Letter Reaches England

      Charles Hamilton Matthews was seated at his desk pondering the latest finances when his secretary, Rupert, came in with the morning’s mail. In the pile was one travel stained letter. He ripped it open and read it.

      Peter Matthews

       Bear Lodge Rd

       Sundance

       Wyoming

      29th July 1893

      Father

      I trust this letter finds you well. I have settled down in Sundance and have recently made purchase of a small farm which is large enough to meet my needs. I had been intending to inform you that I am a father. However my wife did not survive the birth of my son - he also died. I am surrounded by friends and intend to remain here for a period of time. As a result I have enclosed my address should you need to contact me. I reiterate that I have no intention of returning home.

      Your son

       Peter

      Charles cursed and threw his tumbler across the room. The crystal hit the wall with force and shattered on impact. He grunted to his secretary, “Get Theresa to clean that up. I have a letter to dictate.” The shattered crystal and brandy was wiped away and then his secretary took down the letter. Rupert’s eyebrows were raised at the content but he valued his job enough not to say anything.

      Chapter 15 Convalescence

      Peter lay there quietly, trying to move as little as possible as it even hurt to breathe. Andrew had made a more suitable bed for him in a side room. This room was much better. It was darker, quieter and therefore easier on his perpetually pounding headache. Every time he opened his eyes there was always one girl seated beside him to offer him a sip of water or soup. Joanne and Alice had quickly offered to take turns sitting beside him. They always rushed to their mother when he needed help, was choking, being ill, starting to shake with shock or burning with a temperature.

      Most of all Peter appreciated Maria’s company. Sometimes he felt horribly dizzy, his face went numb and he felt like his body and soul were separating. The feel of her hand in his gave him something to focus on. She stopped him floating away, she became his anchor. That was sometimes the scariest part, when he felt like a storm driven ship being dashed against rocks, his anchor lost in the seas. His dreams were wild and didn’t leave him when he woke up. He was aware of Maria’s voice, soft voices in quiet conversation, damp cloths on his head, cool drinks in his mouth and young girls calling out “Ma!” when he found himself struggling for air. What dominated his life was pain in all its diverse forms: he had sharp stabbing pain in his ribs, his head alternated between vice-like grips to a blinding pain, his stomach produced an odd deep throbbing pain, and his collar-bone simply ached. Then of course there were the superficial wounds and they felt like hot coals.

      He briefly cracked one eye open, squinted and slightly tilted his head. That was good, that movement usually made him feel he was getting kicked in the head by a horse - this time it merely made him dizzy. He waited for the world to stop spinning before reopening his eyes. Maria was sitting there, quietly reading a book. His movement made her glance up and a


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