Once Upon a Texas Christmas Read online

  Larry didn’t wait to be told twice. Almost before she’d finished speaking, he was around the counter and waving goodbye.

  Abigail took his place and waited to see what kind of reception she’d get from Mr. Reynolds when he finally made his appearance.

  Twenty minutes later he still hadn’t shown up and she was getting worried. Where was the man? Maybe he’d slipped out of his room without Larry noticing. Had he gone over to inspect the progress of the construction work?

  Mr. Reynolds struck her as a scrupulously punctual person and she definitely didn’t think he was one to oversleep.

  Ruby came down the stairs and Abigail immediately called her over. “Have you seen Mr. Reynolds this morning?”

  “No, but I’ve been upstairs getting room three ready for a new guest.”

  “Would you please keep an eye on the desk while I check on something?”

  Abigail headed for the kitchen, where she found Della peeling potatoes. “Good morning. Have you seen Mr. Reynolds today by any chance?”

  Della shook her head as she set down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. “No, I haven’t. He’s not come down for breakfast yet. He didn’t eat much supper last night, either—sent his tray back with hardly a thing touched.”

  Next Abigail followed the sound of the hammering and spoke to Mr. Hendricks, who also gave her a negative response. Beginning to really worry, Abigail decided it was time to take more drastic measures.

  Abigail learned from Ruby that he’d moved into the first-floor rooms the Crandalls had vacated. She quickly headed for the suite and knocked. She waited several seconds, then knocked again, this time more forcefully.

  When she still didn’t get a response, Abigail hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. Had he gone out to run an errand? She could be worried over nothing. But what if he hadn’t?

  Then she heard a sound that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

  Chapter Six

  Abigail heard the sound again, a low moan, and knocked harder this time. “Mr. Reynolds, it’s Abigail. Are you all right?”

  When she still received no response, she raced back to the front desk to fetch the master key. Propriety be hanged, she was going to find out what was wrong.

  Clutching the key, she asked Ruby to join her, then hurried back to his door without waiting to see if she would comply. Abigail shoved the key in the lock, took a deep breath and threw open the door.

  It took her a moment to orient herself. The owner’s suite consisted of a sitting room with doors on either side—undoubtedly leading to bedrooms. She stared at the two closed doors for a moment, then heard a sound from the one on her left. Running over, she knocked, then waited a long anxious moment, but the only sound was that of Ruby coming up behind her. Finally, Abigail turned the knob and shoved the door open.

  A small cry escaped her lips at the sight that greeted her. Mr. Reynolds lay sprawled on the floor next to the bed.

  His complexion had a sickly pallor and his hair was plastered to his scalp by sweat.

  “Oh my goodness.” Ruby’s voice held a touch of panic and she backed up a step. “You reckon he caught the same ailment as Miss Norma has?”

  “No, of course not. What Norma has isn’t contagious.”

  Abigail kneeled beside him. She pulled down his nightshirt to preserve his dignity, but not before she saw the awful scars on his leg. Her stomach lurched at the thought of what pain that must have caused him, but she immediately tamped that down. There were more urgent problems to focus on.

  She felt his forehead and as she suspected he was burning up. “Listen carefully,” she told Ruby. “I want you to get Calvin Hendricks so he can help get Mr. Reynolds back in bed. Then run to fetch Dr. Pratt. Ask him to please hurry.”

  With a nod, Ruby scurried off as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.

  While Abigail waited, she retrieved the washrag and basin from his bedside, then gently applied the damp cloth to his forehead. But her mind couldn’t rid itself of the scars she had seen. No wonder he limped. It was a miracle the man could walk at all.

  As she wiped his brow, she noticed a large knot on his forehead. He must have hit his head when he fell.

  A moment later Calvin Hendricks came rushing up. “Ruby told me you needed—” He stopped at the threshold and she realized they must make a rather strange tableau. A heartbeat later, though, he came rushing the rest of the way in. “What happened?”

  “Mr. Reynolds apparently took a fall. I need help getting him back in bed.”

  “Of course.”

  Calvin, who was both nimble and strong, managed to get Mr. Reynolds upright with only minimal assistance from her. Once they’d got him back on the bed, Abigail pulled up the sheet to cover him and turned to offer her thanks to Calvin.

  “You want me to wait with you until Doc Pratt gets here?”

  “No, thank you. Dr. Pratt should be here soon.”

  Calvin rubbed the back of his neck. “Leaving you here with him by yourself don’t seem quite right. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay anyway.”

  Calvin Hendricks was one of the first people her own age she’d met when she’d arrived in Turnabout, and they’d been friends ever since. At one time she’d had a crush on him, but that had passed quickly.

  She took Mr. Reynolds’s hand, not sure if she was trying to reassure him or herself. “I think it’s a waste of your time, but I have no objections.”

  A moment later the point became moot when Dr. Pratt bustled in.

  She turned but maintained her hold on Mr. Reynolds’s hand. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “I wasn’t sure what to do.” From the corner of her eye she noticed Calvin slipping out of the room.

  “I see you’ve been doing the right things. Do you know how long he’s been like this?”

  She shook her head. “Della says he didn’t eat much for supper last night, but no one saw him after that until I found him on the floor this morning.”

  “On the floor, you say.”

  “Yes, sir. I think he tried to get out of bed, but lost his balance and fell. He has a bump where he must have hit his head when he fell.”

  “Hmm, yes. Why don’t you step out while I examine him? And try not to worry, it may be nothing at all.”

  Abigail gently released Mr. Reynolds’s hand then hesitated when he groaned. But Dr. Pratt waved her off with a reassuring “we’ll be fine,” and she reluctantly made her exit.

  Trying to keep busy, she took the opportunity to check in with Ruby.

  “How’s Mr. Reynolds doing?” she asked.

  “Dr. Pratt is with him now. We won’t know anything until his examination is complete. In the meantime, I need you to watch the front desk.”

  Then she went to the kitchen, where she again had to answer questions on how Mr. Reynolds was doing. Once that was out of the way she got down to her reason for being there. “I know you already have today’s menu planned out, but could you please work in a chicken-and-vegetable broth? It’s what Daisy cooks when someone in the household gets ill so I figure it couldn’t hurt to do the same for Mr. Reynolds.”

  “Don’t you worry. I’ll start on it right away. My ma always served it when we were feeling poorly, too.”

  “Thank you, Della. I know Mr. Reynolds will appreciate it.”

  By the time Abigail returned to Mr. Reynolds’s suite, Dr. Pratt had finished his examination.

  She didn’t waste time on small talk. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “His fever is caused by an infection he didn’t have treated properly. And added to that, he likely sustained a concussion when he fell.”

  She clasped her hands together in front of her, trying not to let her anxiety show. “Is it serious?”

  “It can be. I’ve treated t
he infection and given him a powder to help make him comfortable, but I’m afraid there’s not much else that can be done until the fever runs its course.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Someone needs to keep an eye on him for the next day or so. Concussions can be a tricky business.”

  “I can do that.”

  He gave her a stern look. “Not by yourself. You won’t do anyone any good if you make yourself ill as well. Besides, there may be some, shall we say, delicate ministrations he will require.” He rubbed his chin. “Normally my wife would be available to help you, but she burned her hand on the stove this morning and needs to take care of herself. But Mrs. Peavy has helped from time to time with folks who need looking after. If you like, I can see if she’s available to lend a hand.”

  Abigail’s first instinct was to decline—she was certain she could handle the job herself. But she realized Dr. Pratt—not to mention her brother—would not allow it. So she gave in gracefully. “That would be most helpful. Thank you.”

  “In the meantime, try to get him to take in some thin broth and other liquids if you can.”

  “Della is already preparing a broth. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Pray, of course.” He gave Abigail’s hand a grandfatherly pat. “I’ll check back in with you this afternoon to see how he’s doing. In the meantime, if you think things are getting worse, send for me.”

  Once Dr. Pratt was gone, Abigail asked Ruby to bring her a pencil and some paper. First she wrote a note to Everett explaining what had happened and that she would be staying at the hotel until Mr. Reynolds was improved. She also asked him to find someone who could help out here at the hotel for a day or two.

  Then she had Ruby help her move one of the comfortable upholstered chairs from the sitting room to Mr. Reynolds’s bedside. Sending the girl back to the front desk, she prepared to keep vigil.

  She’d barely settled in when the patient stirred. Abigail immediately popped up from the chair and stood at the bedside.

  He blinked up at her, squinting his bleary eyes, as if he had trouble focusing. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiled down at him, once more gently brushing the damp hair from his brow. “Hush now. You’ve taken ill and have had a fall as well. I’m here to take care of you.”

  “Nonsense.” He struggled to sit up. “I never get sick and I don’t need a nursemaid.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder, alarmed at the heat radiating through his nightshirt. “Well, it appears that has changed. Settle back down. Dr. Pratt has already had a look at you and recommends you not get up from here until you’re a good sight better.”

  He tried to brush her hand away but the attempt was feeble. A moment later he finally quit struggling and settled back into an uneasy sleep.

  Abigail watched him, wanting to help but feeling powerless to do so. She couldn’t resist tracing the curve of his face with a finger. His chin was rough with stubble but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In fact, she rather liked it.

  Suddenly he grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave! Please don’t leave me.”

  Startled, her gaze flew to meet his, but all she saw was a feverish, glazed look. She took his hand with one of her own and patted his face with the other. “Hush now, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her touch seemed to calm him some but there was still signs of agitation. Finally, she resorted to something she’d seen Daisy do when one of her children was restless or ill—she began to sing softly. She selected the first song that came to mind—“Amazing Grace.”

  That seemed to do the trick. As she sang, she continued to hold his hand and watch his face. How vulnerable he looked.

  He’d already endured so much pain in his life if those scars were any indication. If he’d come back from that, then he could come back from this.

  That plea he’d made—please don’t leave me—had sounded so desperate, so lost. She sensed that he hadn’t been talking to her, that it had been dredged from someplace deep inside him, and her heart ached for his loss.

  Someone left him before, someone he cared deeply for.

  A family member? A sweetheart?

  He finally quieted, and none too soon. Her voice ached with the singing she’d done and she’d drunk every drop from the pitcher. How soon before she could get more?

  * * *

  Less than an hour after she’d sent her note to Everett, Daisy showed up, carpetbag in hand. Abigail immediately moved to the door so they could talk without disturbing the patient.

  “How is he?” Daisy asked in a low voice.

  Abigail pitched her voice in the same hushed sick-room voice. “Still restless, though the fever doesn’t seem as high as it was.”

  “That’s a good sign, at least.” Daisy raised the bag in her hands. “I brought a few things you might need if you’re going to stay here tonight.”

  “Bless you!” Abigail gave her sister-in-law a quick hug, then stepped back. “Everett was okay with this?”

  Daisy shrugged. “You know your brother. His first instinct was to march over here and inform you that you were not to spend the night here, no matter what the situation.”

  Abigail winced.

  But Daisy patted her arm. “Don’t worry. I reminded him that you were a grown woman and that you had very likely thought this through and were going to take precautions to protect your reputation.” Then she raised a brow. “You have, haven’t you?”

  Abigail nodded. “You can tell Everett that Mrs. Peavy will be spending the night here as well.”

  That brought a relieved smile to Daisy’s face. “I knew it. Won’t Everett feel foolish when I tell him.” Then she touched Abigail’s arm. “By the way, Everett contacted Darby Kline and asked him to check in with you.”

  Abigail nodded. “Darby showed up about fifteen minutes ago and he’s already been a big help. He was the perfect choice.”

  “I want you to take a break—freshen up, get yourself a bite to eat, maybe get a little fresh air. You have a long vigil ahead of you and you need to make certain you don’t wear yourself out.” She held up a hand before Abigail could protest. “I’ll sit with him for a while.”

  Abigail reluctantly decided to do as Daisy instructed. After all, she also had a responsibility to check on the hotel operations.

  But she planned to make it a very short break indeed.

  Chapter Seven

  Abigail stayed away only long enough to check on Della and Ruby. Della insisted she eat something, so she took a few bites of whatever dish the cook set in front of her—later she couldn’t remember what it was.

  She returned immediately to Mr. Reynolds’s room, where she found Daisy right where she’d left her.

  “How is he doing?” she asked anxiously.

  “The same.” Daisy gave her a severe look. “You were barely gone fifteen minutes. I told you to take a little time to rest.”

  Abigail shook her head impatiently. “I’m fine.” Why were folks treating her as if she was the patient? “You’ve got a restaurant to run and this is my responsibility. So get along with you now.”

  Daisy gave her an assessing look. “Sometimes I forget you’re a grown woman now.” She straightened and gave Abigail a quick hug. “You be sure to send for me if you need help with anything.”

  Abigail had barely settled into the chair beside the bed when Constance arrived.

  “Dr. Pratt asked me to bring this to you. It’s a powder to help ease his fever. Mix a teaspoon in some water and try to get him to drink it.”

  Abigail stood and gave her friend a hug, leading her away from the bedside. “Thank you. But who’s minding the pharmacy?”

  Constance waved a hand. “The world won’t end if I close the doors for a short while.” Then she turned to study Mr. Reynolds. “How
is he?”

  “A little better, I think.” Or was that just wishful thinking?

  Constance met her gaze and there was worry in her expression. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Pray.”

  “Of course. Would you like me to sit with him a little while so you can have a moment to rest? It’s likely to be a long vigil.”

  “Daisy was here earlier and spelled me for a bit, but thank you for offering.”

  They both silently watched the patient a moment, then Abigail straightened and cut a sly gaze her friend’s way. “Calvin was a big help this morning.”

  “Oh?” Constance’s voice was just a little too casual.

  “Mr. Reynolds had fallen to the floor and was unconscious when I found him. Calvin helped me get him back in bed. I never realized how strong young Mr. Hendricks is.” She nudged her friend. “How about you? Have you ever noticed how strong he is?”

  There was a telltale shadow of pink climbing up Constance’s neck and into her cheeks. “Why should I have?”

  A restless groan from Mr. Reynolds cut off Abigail’s attempt at levity. She moved forward and gently brushed the hair off his forehead. His skin was still so warm. “I just feel so helpless to do anything,” she whispered.

  Constance gave her shoulder a one-armed hug. “You’re doing plenty.”

  Since there was no acceptable response she could give to that, Abigail said nothing.

  After another moment, Constance removed her arm. “Well, if you’re sure there’s nothing else I can do, I guess I’ll go back to the pharmacy. But promise you’ll send someone to fetch me if you need anything at all.”

  “I promise.” Then Abigail had another thought. “Actually, there is something you can do.”

  “Name it.”

  “I usually bring the workmen a light snack about this time every day. If you wouldn’t mind taking care of that, I would appreciate it. And I’m certain they would, too—one of them in particular.”

  She grinned as the color rose again in her friend’s face. Constance and Calvin Hendricks had been eyeing each other for some time.