Surrender the Wind by RITA GERLACH

his attackers lifted their comrade and dragged him off into the dark asylum of the woods.
    Seth reached for his frightened horse and hauled himself into the saddle. Blood seeped from his left side onto his shirt. As swift as Jupiter could carry him, he hurried back to Ten Width.
    Grimacing in pain, he slid from the saddle and staggered up the stairs through the door. From an entry that led from the kitchen, Claire walked into the foyer with Will and gasped. Will stepped forward. “Sir, what happened?”
    Seth did not want a flurry of activity over him. “I’m fine, but if you’d take care of Jupiter, I’ll be grateful. Give him extra oats. He earned it.”
    Will hurried out the front door to do as his master bid and drew the horse away.
    A left rib dug into Seth's body. It was either bruised or cracked. Claire hurried up behind him and helped take off his coat. As blood oozed against his palm, Seth pressed his hand against his side. He glanced back at her from over his shoulder. Shock and worry played over her face.
    “You are hurt, sir,” Claire hurried to the door. “I’ll tell Will to get Dr. Yates!”
    He forbade her with a lift of his hand. “There is no need for that, Claire. Bring me a fresh pitcher of hot water upstairs, so I may wash this blood off my hands. Do not disturb my sister.” And he proceeded to go up.
    “Yes, sir. But should I at least tell Miss Juleah?”
    Juleah. If he needed help, he knew she’d give it. “She may need to know, yes.”
    He managed the pain until he got through the bedchamber door. A melancholy settled over him. He longed for home, for his fields, the mountains and forests, and the Potomac. So far away they were, and he now in England, among highwaymen and footpads, disappearing nursemaids, resigning vicars and sextons, and a doctor more given to spending time at the tavern than with his practice.
    He lifted his hand away from the wound and stared at the blood on his fingers. Who were the ruffians that had attacked him?
    He crossed to the window, unlatched the lock, and shoved the pane open. The frigid air smelled of rain, mud, and damp fields.
    “It is not good that a man live alone,” he murmured, thinking of Juleah.
    He knocked his fist twice upon the windowsill and realized that coming to England presented more than he had expected: he was falling in love.
    Humbled by this revelation, he let out a shallow breath and turned. His traveling clothes were laid out, brushed and cleaned, and a new bedcover replaced the old dingy one. The clothes cupboard door stood open, cleared of Benjamin's old clothes, replaced with the few Seth owned.
    He laid his pistol on the table beside the mantelpiece. His waistcoat and linen shirt were blotched with crimson, the right sleeve torn at the seam. He unbuttoned the waistcoat, wanting to take care of this privately. It was but a scratch after all. A tap fell upon his door and it drifted open.
    Juleah froze in the frame of the doorway. Seth could not help but gaze at her. She glanced at the bloodstains on hisneckcloth and his shirt with quiet concern. Her eyes traveled to his right hand and to his fingers smeared with blood.
    “I fell off my horse.” A quick quiver of his mouth, he smiled over at her. He did not want to alarm her with the truth. But by the expression in her eyes, she knew he was lying.
    “Claire.” Juleah looked back over her shoulder at the wide-eyed girl. “Bring lint and bandages, sticking plaster, and ointment.” Claire set the pitcher of fresh water on the table and promptly left.
    Juleah stepped forward. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
    “There's no reason for you to be concerned.”
    He wished she would not question him or stare at him in the way she did.
    “There is reason.” Defiant, she set her hands on her hips. “Caroline will be angry with me if I do not help.”
    “It would not be your fault. If she needs to be, she can be angry with me.”
    “She doesn’t need you falling sick as well.