Hannah’s Beau by Renee Ryan

hard on her.” She took another steadying breath. “Actually, I came in search of you. Supper is nearly over. Laney sent me to tell you she’d like to discuss the indoor games you mentioned earlier.”
    Hannah nodded. “I’d be delighted.”
    As she followed Katherine back inside the house, Hannah realized the moments she’d spent with Mavis were the first in days she hadn’t worried about her sister. In fact, she hadn’t thought of Rachel once.
    Hannah didn’t know whether to be glad for it or incredibly sad, but either way Mavis Tierney had been a colorful diversion.

Chapter Eight

    T he scent of death cloaked the tiny room like a thick, heavy blanket. The raw odor gripped Beau’s throat and squeezed it shut. A soft moan of misery drifted out of Jane Goodwin as she lay limp on her bed.
    Dejected, Beau crossed to the back corner of the room and gave the young doctor who had arrived hours before plenty of space to work.
    The time has come, Beau thought in frustrated agony.
    At the realization that he hadn’t been able to save this lost lamb, a strong sense of helplessness pulled sweat onto his brow. Lowering chin to chest, he prayed that the Lord would give him the right words to bring reassurance to the dying woman.
    An eerie silence fell over the room, broken only by Jane’s ragged breathing and the doctor’s soft murmurs of comfort. Out of respect for Jane, Beau cleared his face of any expression.
    But it hurt deep in his soul to watch the poor woman struggle for air. Her breathing was different tonight, more labored. For about an hour now, she would suckin a breath, pause, and then wheeze out hard before pausing again. Just as Beau would give up hope for her next breath, the pattern would begin all over again.
    The death rattle.
    He’d heard it before, and his own breathing rasped in his lungs.
    “Is she in as much pain as it appears?” he asked.
    Working with efficient hands, Shane Bartlett lifted Jane’s wrist and checked her pulse again. “No more than expected.”
    Beau offered up a prayer of thanksgiving for the competent young doctor. Shane was the only physician in town who would dare to step into a brothel—in an official capacity, that was.
    Straightening, the other man clicked his black bag shut and let out a slow stream of air. His brown hair stuck out at the ends, looking as though he’d run his hands through it far too many times and now the thick mane was on permanent revolt.
    “Doctor?”
    Shane turned sad, tired eyes to Beau. The empty, resigned expression said it all.
    Jane Goodwin’s journey here on earth had come to an end. All that remained was her final curtain call.
    Breaking eye contact, Beau lowered his head. Heavenly Father, I pray You bring Miss Jane some peace in her final moments. Most of all, I pray for her salvation.
    Opening his eyes, Beau connected his gaze with the doctor’s once more. “Is there anything I can do? Any thoughts on how I can make her more comfortable?”
    Shane shook his head. “You’ve done all you can.” He reached down and dragged his thumb across Jane’sfurrowed brow. “I’m sorry, Reverend. There are some things we humans can’t control. It’s simply her time.”
    “I understand.” And yet, Beau’s heart clenched at the news. For a moment, he stared at the pale, limp figure lying on the bed. The lines of fatigue around her eyes and the odd angle of her mouth were clear indicators of how ill she truly was.
    Jane moaned, twisting and kicking until she’d wrenched one arm free of the covers.
    “Beau?” Her frail hand lifted a mere inch off the bed.
    Beau rushed to her side, knelt down and wrapped his fingers gently around hers. “I’m right here.”
    She rattled through several more breaths before her eyes blinked open and focused on him. He was surprised at how clear her gaze looked, clearer than he’d seen in weeks.
    A relieved sigh lurched through him.
    “My daughter, Megan, is she…” Her words trailed off, turning into a