Lauraine Snelling (23 page)

Miss Lockwood was sitting on the edge of the bed. Ransom could see why his brother might be smitten with her, as Lucas had been smitten so many times in the past. Viewed objectively, she was rather pretty, and she had a wispy, vulnerable quality about her that the pain medication was probably enhancing.

“Good morning, Cassie.” Mor’s voice was light, upbeat, so different from the tone of voice she’d used on the sheriff. And on her sons. “Are you ready to go home?”

Miss Lockwood smiled wanly and nodded. “Thank you.” She was clutching her injured arm close to her with her other hand.

The doctor stepped up to her with a large white triangle, bedsheet material it looked like, muslin or something like that. Expertly, he laid it down across her chest, snugged her arm in it just so and drew it up, tying it behind her neck. He made it look so easy. She didn’t even wince. The pallid sling nearly matched her pasty face.

She looked tired. Sad. “I guess I don’t even have a coat here.”

Mor smiled. “We have quilts and blankets aplenty. We’ll get you in the wagon and wrapped up all snug.”

“Did you tell the others that I’m all right? They’ll worry.”

“Micah was on my doorstep this morning, so they know.”

When she started to stand, Lucas leapt to her left side, so Ransom, the other strong angry buck, moved in at her right. She was game; you had to give her that. Not deliberately frail and feeble, like so many girls her age acted, obviously acting too. She could have simply let them do the work, but she walked out on her own. And she didn’t yammer. No talking at all. Ransom valued that in a girl, but rarely found it.

“I’ll ride in back with Cassie,” Mavis announced as they carefully hoisted her into the back of the wagon.

“I could do that,” Lucas offered hopefully, but no one paid him any attention.

Ransom took it slow driving home, keeping the horses at a walk except over the really smooth places. Not many smooth stretches on that road, he noted ruefully. Still, a couple times when he looked over his shoulder, her teeth were clenched against the jolting. It was a long, long, long trip.

They finally rattled through the ranch gate and along to the house. She scooted to the end and crawled off the wagon by herself, the boys at her side as her feet hit the ground.

“Gretchen’s room,” Mor instructed. They tucked her into Gretchen’s bed.

She sighed. “Thank you.”

“I will have some hot soup ready for you in a bit.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s okay. Doc said you need to eat. Which do you want, scrambled eggs with cinnamon rolls or soup with bread and cheese?”

“I don’t really care.” Cassie’s eyelids fluttered. “A cinnamon roll sounds good.” Her voice faded off.

From the doorway Ransom watched her fall asleep almost instantly. She was weak, all right, like the doctor said. And pale. Really pale. He glanced down to see Lucas clenching and releasing his fists. Ransom’s jaw was doing about the same.

Mor turned to her sons with a sigh. “I’ll take care of her. You go see what you and Chief can find out.”

“Thanks, Mor.” The two grabbed their rifles off the rack by the front door as they left the house and headed for the barn.

M
avis stood a bit in the doorway to Gretchen’s room watching Cassie but mostly thinking, or maybe it was dreaming. Long, long ago she had come so close to riding off with Adam Lockwood, but she had decided against seeking adventure. Now here was adventure seeking her out, whether she wanted it or not. This poor girl . . . her boys out in the hills courting danger . . . Where was all this leading? Thank God Gretchen was safe in school.

Please, God, let them find a trail.
A verse floated through her mind.
“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”
She understood that, but they could help find the men. Surely that would not be remiss. She waited, letting her mind rove through the Scriptures. Nothing else popped up.
Lord, if you have a plan for this, which I am sure you do, please show it to us. We don’t want to run ahead of you.

Since Cassie was now sound asleep, Mavis washed the breakfast dishes, all the while thanking God that the child was not hurt worse, that no one else was seriously wounded, and that God was indeed in control. She asked for Him to give her sons wisdom and sharp minds and eyes.

“And, please, Lord, forgive my vindictive attitude. I am so angry at those fools that I could spit. It’s not the love of money that is the root of all evil; it’s the love of liquor. Nothing else turns a man into such an idiot as that. It ruins homes and children and jobs and lives. How can I help those wives? You gave me wisdom in my situation, and I do indeed thank you that Ivar responded like he did. I can never thank you enough that he never drank again. Could I really have carried through on that threat to send him away?”

She stared out the window at the neat stacks of wood in the backyard and the pile yet to be split. “Oh, Lord, I am so blessed.”

She dumped the dishwater out the back door, hung up the pan, and went to check on Cassie, who was sleeping soundly. A few more inches, and that slug would have pierced Cassie’s heart. They could have been burying her today instead of watching her sleep and praying for healing.

But then, a few inches the other way would have missed her completely and she could have gone on living, learning, enjoying, training her beautiful horse, sharpening her shooting skills.

Cassie was so set on winning the shooting match coming up. Was there even a chance of that?

Cassie woke sometime later with a thirst that dried her throat, a burning pain in her arm, and no idea where she was. Last she remembered she was at the doctor’s, and Mrs. Barnett was helping her dress, or rather was dressing her. Cassie raised the arm not bound firmly to her chest and sort of recognized what she was wearing.

She moved her head enough to let her gaze wander around the room. Log walls. She must be at the Engstroms’. When she closed her eyes and thought hard through the fog in her mind, she remembered a ride lying down in a wagon. The memory was so hazy she wasn’t sure it was real. Brief scenes flashed through her mind. Riding in front of a man—was it Lucas she’d leaned against or Ransom? Seeing the doctor and the smell of the cloth he’d put across her nose and mouth. She’d awakened in another bed, not this one. And then getting dressed.

She heard something, a chair scratching on the floor perhaps. Turning her head the other way, she saw Micah sitting in a chair, watching her. Her voice sounded more frog than human when she tried to say something to him.

“What can I get for you?”

“Water.” Hopefully the croak was clear enough.

He nodded and crossed to her bedside, sliding one arm around her shoulders to lift her so she could drink from the cup he held with his other hand. After a couple of swallows, she nodded that she’d had enough. Never had cool water felt better sliding down her throat.

“Thank you.”

Ever using as few words as possible, he laid her back down. “Anything else?”

“Did we have a fire and a shooting spree?” Her voice at least was better. “Or was that a terrible dream?”

“No dream.”

She heaved a sigh, which made her wince. Her arm did not care for that action. Not that it liked being moved when she drank, but the need for water overwhelmed even the pain.

“I am at the Engstroms’?”

“Mrs. Engstrom rode up to get clothes for you. She’ll be back soon.”

“Oh.”
So how did you know to come?
She wanted to ask more questions, but her mind was slipping away again into some kind of fog, and . . .

“Cassie. Cassie.” The words came from some far distant place.

I’m coming, I’m coming.
But she blinked her eyes only thinking she had said something.

“Good. I need you to drink this. The painkiller is in the tea.”

Cassie cleared her throat, swallowed, and shook her head the slightest. “Wait.”

Mavis set the cup on the table beside the bed. “What can I get for you?”

“I need to use the outhouse.”

“I have a pot in here for you. I’ll help you, all right?”

With Mavis helping hold her upright, they managed to take care of that matter. Then Cassie sat up on the edge of the bed, with Mavis’s arm propping her, and blew out a breath. “I don’t remember ever feeling like this.”

“You lost a lot of blood. That will make you weak, and the pain medication makes you woozy. We need to get some soup into you and another dose of medication before the pain gets extreme.”

“I did get shot?”

“Yes.”

“There were men shouting and shooting around the cabin. A fire, I think, and I got slammed against the cabin wall. Or did I dream that?”

“No, no dream. Two of the men got away. Someone wounded one of the men, and he is in jail. My boys and Chief are out tracking those that escaped. Micah stayed to watch you while I brought your clothes back. Runs Like a Deer said for you not to worry about them.”

“How bad is my arm?”

“The bullet went through the muscles in your upper arm but missed the bone. For which we are so grateful.”

“Went through.”

“Yes, leaving two holes. Doc Barnett says the biggest concern right now is infection. I can take better care of you here than up at the cabin, so we all want you to stay here.”

“I see. What day is this?”

“November thirteenth. Friday.”

“And the shooting match is December fifth?”

“Yes.”

“I have three weeks to get this arm strong enough to get me through a shooting match.” She flexed the fingers of her injured arm, but the pain shot up and exploded in her head. “Oh!” She struggled to catch her breath again.

“The less you move any part of that arm, the better. You should see a difference even in a couple of days. That’s why Dr. Barnett sent more painkillers home with you.”

“I see.” Her head weighed fifty pounds or more. “I think I better lie down again.” She slumped against Mavis’s shoulder. Once eased back into a prone position, she let out the breath she’d been holding. “You better give me that stuff now, because the fog is coming back in.”

Mavis held her up enough to drink the sweetened tea mixture and laid her back down. “I’ll have the soup ready next time you wake up.”

“Thank . . .”

Mavis kept watching out the windows for the men returning, hopefully with the two on the lam in tow. She checked on Cassie, but the young woman slept on. “That’s the best thing you can be doing,” Mavis whispered as she returned to the kitchen. She fixed herself a bowl of soup and slices of bread, sat down to eat, and picked up her earlier conversation with her heavenly Father.

“I know you care about all of us, including Beckwith and his cohorts, but right now I am asking you, actually pleading with you, to help my boys find them and bring them back. If they get too far up in the hills, they can disappear into the rocks and keep on going clear into Wyoming. I believe Jud when he said they didn’t really mean to shoot anyone, just scare them all away. But how did the fire in the wagon start? Micah said he smelled kerosene. Did the lamp get tipped over and the stove hot enough to burst into flame, or did the kerosene drip through onto the coals?”

She mulled that over, dunked her bread in the soup, and stared blankly at the cupboards above the counter on the north wall. “What about Cassie, her dream, or more her need to win this match? She’s been through a lot, as you well know. Not having any cash is eating at her. How do I help her understand that you will provide? And if we are part of your provisions for her, for them, what is wrong with that?”

She poured herself a cup of coffee and reached to the center of the table to open her Bible again. “Where do I look? What can I find to help her the most?” She flipped through pages, reading a verse here and a paragraph there, finally settling on Matthew and the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus spoke of worrying about clothing and food and His care of the sparrows and the lilies of the field. She found a piece of paper in the drawer and copied the verses in a firm hand.
Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

Heaving a sigh, she drained her cup and pushed herself back from the table to go check on Cassie again.

“Ah, you’re back,” Mavis said.

“I believe so. May I please have a drink of water?”

“Of course, right here.” She helped Cassie sit up and held the cup for her. “I’ll bring your soup right in. Would you like some bread too?”

“Yes, please. Am I in Gretchen’s bed?”

“Yes. She’ll sleep with me tonight so she doesn’t bump you.” Mavis hummed on her way back to the kitchen. Cassie had some color back in her face. Not much but she hadn’t felt warm, as in infection.

“What time is it?” Cassie asked on her return.

“Time for Gretchen to come home any minute. She left in a huff this morning because she never heard the dog barking and missed out on all the excitement, as she called it.”

The barking dog caught their attention. “That’s her, all right.”

“I wonder how Othello is.”

“Why? Was he hurt during the fiasco?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember some things. I don’t remember him yelping, but I don’t remember him by me when I was shot either.”

“I’ll ask Micah. He’ll probably come by again.”

“Thanks. I couldn’t stay awake when he was here before.”

“Good thing. Sleep is the best thing for a wounded body.”

Gretchen burst through the door into the kitchen. “Are they back yet? The horses aren’t here.”

“We’re here in your room,” Mavis called to her.

Gretchen plowed to a stop in the bedroom. “Cassie, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you feel strong enough to sit up?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Mavis propped several pillows behind her and helped her sit up.

Gretchen walked to the bed. “You don’t look real good.”

“Actually she looks better than she did this morning. I’ll bring in a tray with two bowls, and the two of you can eat together while I have another cup of coffee.” She left them and returned to the kitchen. Benny started barking again, another welcome bark rather than warning, so Mavis knew the men were back. She dished up the soup, set the bowls on the tray with spoons, along with a cup of coffee, and carried it into the sickroom.

“Look, Cassie, why don’t I feed you since you look about done in again.”