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safe, for she could not hear. "Do not die, Marian I beg you. If only I had taken the bullet . . . but you were protecting me when I ought to have been saving you." He heard the catch in his throat and stopped until his voice was steady once more. "If you wish anything else to help you healmore moldy bread, or ointment from worms from the bowels of the earth, or the scrapings from the sole of a hostile Indian's moccasins . . . anythingI will get it for you." He laughed bitterly. He had named ingredients of home remedies of which he had heardthough he held little faith in them. And such conceit he had shown in promising her the impossible! |
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But she believed in the impossible. |
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She had come from the future. He now accepted that. Though incredible, it explained much about her, and about her predictions. |
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Near dawn, she stirred for perhaps the sixth time, and he again gave her some of the miserable broth. |
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When she'd finished taking but a spoonful, he rested the bowl on the floor and took Mariah's small, hot hand. Her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell unevenly beneath the blanket. |
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"Please, Mariah," he pleaded. And then the words he had been hiding within himself surged out as though torn from him by a force he'd no power to resist. "I love you." |
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There was no reaction from her. Just as well. He'd no business telling her such a thing. |
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No business even thinking it. |
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He bent over to rest his head on the bed beside her. The sheet smelled of the rumpled straw mattress beneath, lye soap, Mariah's salty perspirationand her sweet fragrance. |
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He closed his eyes for just a moment. He was tired, so tired. But he could not sleep. . . . |
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A touch on his head startled him, and he sat up. |
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Mariah was looking at him. Though her head still rested on the pillow, her color was better, less flushed. Her lovely green eyes were again the color of new forest leaves, and they were bright and clear, seeming to focus directly on him. |
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"Thorn, were you here all night?" Her voice was soft yet strong. |
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