Echoes of the Heart (35 page)

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Authors: Carole Webb

BOOK: Echoes of the Heart
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She
pictured herself wrapped in Cash’s arms, safe from the world’s evils and sank
into a blissful slumber, not waking until noon.

 

***

           

Determined to
regain her strength as quickly as possible, she ate most of her breakfast,
hoping her appetite would improve if she forced down food.
 
Later, after a short walk to visit Nick and
Arte she nestled beneath a quilt on the sofa peering through the paned window
at the majestic peaks of the Black Hills outlined by enormous billowing clouds,
stark cragged pinnacles dark and foreboding, so fitting a monument to the harsh
cold Badlands surrounding their base.
 
Awesome when she first viewed them, now they offered only a sinister
reminder of the treacherous wasteland she would soon escape.

           
Dining
early, she sat with Diane in the kitchen.
 
A cheerful tone edged her aunt’s voice.
 
“It appears your appetite is improving.”

           
“Not
exactly.
 
I need my strength back.
 
I’m forcing it down.”
 
After a few moments hesitation, she
continued, assuming now would be the perfect opportunity to make her plans
known.
 
“I’m going back to St. Louis when
I’m able.”

           
Diane
sat down her teacup.
 
“When did you decide
this?”

           
“I
have been planning to leave eventually, but now seems like a good time.”
 
She didn’t want to express the fears haunting
her constantly since the hideous incident nearly taking her life and killed her
baby but decided to confide in her aunt, so tired of being afraid.

           
“I
can’t live her any longer.
 
I’m
frightened, and I feel like something else is just waiting to happen.
 
I have to get away.”

           
Diane’s
blue eyes opened wide in amazement.
 
“What about Cash?
 
Is he aware of
your plans?”

           
“What
about Cash?”
 
Her voice became
bitter.
 
“He has known all along of my
plans.”
 
Just let him try to stop her.
 
She would make him so miserable he would beg
her to go.
           
“Why did you get married, if
you had planned on leaving?”

           
Raeden
remained composed while her stomached turned over.
 
“I didn’t want to get married.
 
He had already arranged everything before he
told me.
 
I didn’t desire to make a
scene, and you seemed so happy.
 
Too
tired to fight, I just went along.”

           
She
poured more tea then continued.
 
“Cash
just wanted to save face by doing the right thing.
 
He doesn’t want marriage either and he can’t
make me stay.”

           
Diane
sat wide-eyed, a baffled look on her face.
 
“I don’t believe Cash the type to care what others may think.
 
However, he does have a strong sense of
duty.
 
It’s hardly an excuse for not
allowing you to decide.
 
I thought you
loved him.”
 
Her shoulder drooped and
sadness marred her beatific face.

           
Raeden
reached for her hand.
 
“At first I became
swept away by passion.
 
I never knew a
man like him existed.”
 
She sighed.
 
“Then I thought we had become friends.
 
He asked if I desired marriage, he would if I
wanted.
 
That’s no basis to get married
in my mind.
 
All this duty and
responsibility nonsense makes me tired.”
 
She raised her hands in frustration, her eyes pooled.
 
“He doesn’t want me.
 
No man could want me after those men …”

           
She
covered her eyes hiding disgrace and anguish.
 
Diane stood to put an arm around her shoulder.
 
“It’s not true, Rae.
 
You’ll see this differently once you’re better.”

           
She
wiped her eyes, lifting her face toward Diane.
 
“I will never get over what happened.
 
Dreams of their torture keep me awake half the night.
 
If a man tried to touch my body, I am afraid
I would get sick.”
 
Standing from the
table, Raeden’s eyes cleared and showed a hint of her old spark.
 
“I’ll get the marriage annulled in New
York.
 
The train is due in a few weeks
and I plan to be on it to get rid of this nightmare once and for all.”

           
Raeden
rose from the table.
 
She wanted to run,
but held back by pain and stiffness she walked carefully to her room.
 
She eased onto her bed and turned to her side
then hugged her knees to her chest and felt less vulnerable and finally fell
asleep.

 

***

 

Cash, John by his
side, rode into Sioux Falls three days later and boarded their horses.
 
The odor of charred wood hung heavy in the
night air.
 
Skeletons of burned buildings
formed demonic statues, the debris from the town fire scattered in the streets.

The once thriving
burg looked like a ghost town strewn with huge heaps of rubble.
 
The saloon was one of the few buildings left
standing.

           
Deserted
by most of the population after renegade Apache set fire to Sioux Falls, they
would have to sleep with their horses, left to eat jerky and hard tack.
 
The remaining population was camping out in
the outskirts of the rubble.

           
Cash
casually scanned the exits when they entered the saloon, downed a double whisky
served in a cloudy chipped glass.
 
He
opened a lapel exposing the tin star, reached in his breast pocket for the sketches
then signaled the barkeep.
 
“Have you
seen these men?”

           
The
man ran his fingers over a scruffy growth of beard.
 
“Yeah, I seen ‘em.
 
They done left just before the fire.”

           
“Do
you know which direction they headed?”

           
“Can’t
say as I do.”

           
Cash
folded the papers and placed them back in his pocket.
 
“Is the sheriff around?”

           
The
man spread a toothless grin and chortled.
 
“Nah, he took off with the others.”

           
Cash
tossed a ten-dollar gold piece on the bar. “Thanks for the information, pal.”

 

***

           

It took four days
to reach Fort Randal, the most logical place to find the men.
 
Hollow thuds from their boot heels sounded
from the wooden sidewalk as the duo entered the saloon.
 
Drinks in hand, they stood one elbow on the
bar, one foot on the rest rising from the floor.
 
Occasionally they glanced toward the
door.
 
“I don’t know about you, Cash old
buddy.
 
I need a hot meal a bath and a
bed.”

           
“You’ve
got that right, my friend.”
 
He turned
his attention on the bartender and showed him the pictures.

           
“Yeah,
I saw them.”
 
His finger tapped on the
paper.
 
“That’s the one they called
Horace.
 
They moved out yesterday, going
to Hot Springs.”

           
Cash
and John wolfed down a meal of steak, fried potatoes and pie with strong black
coffee.
 
After a long hot bath and shave,
they settled into warm beds for the night, waking refreshed.

           
At
dawn’s light, they replenished their foodstuffs, nerves wound tight by the news
they had received.
 
Cash sent a wire to
the sheriff in Hot Springs instructing him to hold the two men if they reached
town.
 
A sense of calm came over Cash as
they neared their quarry while his mind twisted with thoughts of his revenge.

During the early
morning a storm moved in, promising snowfall, crowding the blue skies with
turbid black stratus.
 
Flurries gusted by
mid-day, rising on the wind.
 
Sleet
peppered their faces until they reached a huge Bur Oak and set up a lean-to for
shelter against the icy bombardment temporarily halting their quest.

           
Cash
became more impatient as time dragged, anxious to get his hands on them
thinking of Raeden and what they did to her.
 

           
A
lull in the weather allowed further progress and they pushed into the
night.
 
The glow of a campfire in the
distance grabbed Cash’s attention.
 
“Look, John?
 
Maybe it’s our
boys.
 
Let’s ride closer then walk in.”

           
The
camp surrounded by scrub brush allowed them to creep within earshot on bellies
and knees.
 
Cash inhaled slow breaths to
lower his heart rate and improve his aim.

Taking long pulls
of whiskey from a bottle, their laughing voices peeled through the dark.
 
“Member’ the pretty little gal we grabbed
over in Chamberlain?
 
She sure could put
a fight and was a nice piece, too.”

           
Though
he knew men undermined by emotion could end up dead, Cash sprang, pistol drawn
and ready toward the men seated by the fire.
 
The distraction allowed the boasting man, the one called Horace, the
split second required to draw and fire.
 
A molten blast seared through his leg crumpling Cash to the ground.
 
He rolled to his belly, an instantaneous
reaction, raw instinct, point shot Horace through the chest dropping him with a
thud, echoing as he hit face down in the snow.

           
With
loud footfalls, John raced to his right directly into the remaining man’s line
of fire.
 
Cash took the man down before
he could shoot.
 
The remaining man
grabbed his belly and fell to the ground, curling his body, screaming in
pain.
 
John ran in, kicked the weapon
from his reach, did the same with Horace then hurried to Cash.

           
Blood
streamed from a wound on his thigh.
 
Bright red shreds hung from the hole in his leg.
 
The bullet remained in the muscle.
 
John yanked the scarf off his neck and tied
off the flow then checked the felons.
 
Horace laid dead and the other cried for a doctor.
 
He was gut shot and no chance of
survival.
 
John ignored his pleas and
turned back to Cash.
 

           
“We
need to get you to a doctor.
 
The leg
looks bad.
 
If I try to remove the bullet
you might bleed out.”

           
Cash
grimace.
 
He attempted to stand but fell
back on his rump.
 
“Are they dead?”

           
“One
is dead, the other’s gut shot.
 
He won’t
last long.”

A cry bellowed
from the fallen man.
 
“Please help me,
mister.”

Venom spewed from
John’s voice.
 
“I will rot in hell but I
won’t lift a finger you filthy bastard, no matter how much you beg.
 
You will hurt no more innocent women.”
           
John turned back to Cash.
 
“I say we just leave them here for the
animals, like they did Rae.
 
I’ll get the
horses.”

Cash managed to
stand and mount his horse.
 
The searing
pain in his thigh throbbed with each heartbeat while they rode toward Hot Springs.
 
Once again, the elements of nature flared,
causing a two-day delay and John began to worry about Cash’s condition though
he never complained.

Before reaching
their destination, Cash began burning with fever and slumped in the
saddle.
 
John tied a rope around his
waist and the saddle horn to secure him.
 
While he rambled in delirium, John feared for his friend’s life.

Unconscious when
they reached Hot Springs, John and the doctor carried him inside.
 
After slicing his pant leg, the doctor shook
his head and frowned.
 
“This infection
doesn’t look good.”
 
He poured antiseptic
over the wound and reached for a tray of instruments.
  
“You hold his leg.
 
I’ll remove the bullet.”

The doctor packed
the hole with gauze after dropping the lead bullet he removed from Cash’s leg
into a glass.
 
“Get me some snow while I
finish up here.”
 

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