Medicine Wheel (7 page)

“Has this witch been arrested?”

“Not yet. The investigation is still underway. The deputy believes it is just a matter of time.”

“Then you must wait and see if the law acts.”

“But I want to punish her.”

“You must wait. Be patient. There will be opportunity. I promise.”

“Father,” he said with near panic, “I will need to speak with you again . . . soon.”

“I will be here when you need me. You have been a fine boy.”

Summer 1874

13

T
HAD
COULDN
’
T
REMEMBER
a longer week in his short lifetime. He had been baffled by Serena’s reluctance to have him stop by the Belmont farmstead. They had been welcomed by three stair-step little girls who had raced to meet them as they came into the farmyard. They followed with excitement, calling for their mother as they approached the house. The remarkably youthful-looking Rachael Belmont, once assured of her daughter’s condition, had been effusive in her appreciation, had instructed the oldest of the three girls to fill the canteens from the well, and had insisted he wait while she fetched ginger cookies from the house for him to snack on during his ride home.

Reverend Belmont had shown up at the sound of the commotion in the yard, shook his hand firmly and thanked him for helping Serena, and then asked him if he had been saved.

 
“I . . . I don’t understand,” Thad had responded.

“Accepted Jesus?”

Thad had been momentarily speechless and responded awkwardly, “Oh, I think Jesus is just fine.”
 

The preacher had stared at him incredulously. He looked to Serena for rescue, but she just gave an impish smile and, with her mother’s help, turned and hobbled off to the house.

“Well, goodbye, Sir,” Thad had said.
 

“May the Lord be with you, young man.”

Thad felt foolish now about how he had handled the encounter with Serena’s father. He wondered for a moment if Serena, after watching the clumsy country boy display his eloquence, would show up for their agreed rendezvous. He pulled out his watch. Ten minutes until noon. He looked off to the north in the direction of the Belmont farm. No sign. Then he cast his eyes to the southwest and saw a rider approaching.

He watched until Serena, astride a buckskin mare, came into view. When she arrived and dismounted, he noticed instantly that her attire was sharply changed from their first meeting. She still wore moccasins, only a thicker sort, but today she was dressed in washed-out dungarees and a baggy, long-sleeved cotton shirt. A battered, wide-brimmed straw hat was pulled down over her head, nearly covering her forehead. And he thought she looked absolutely stunning.

She smiled. “Am I on time?”

He looked at his watch. “Two minutes ahead.”

“I sneaked out a couple of slices of Mama’s fresh-baked bread . . . I love bread and she sort of expects that anyway . . . and picked up a small slab of ham we can cut up and found a few apples in town. It’s not much, but we won’t starve. Can you wait an hour to eat?”

Food wasn’t close to being on his mind right now. “I can wait as long as you want. You were in Manhattan?”

“I couldn’t tell Mama and Papa I was meeting you . . . well, not Papa anyway, and Mama doesn’t like to keep secrets from Papa. Even if she suspects, as long as she doesn’t know for sure, she doesn’t feel like she’s keeping a secret. So I said I was riding into Manhattan for the day to see if they had any school things in the shops. I’m always visiting Fox’s Bookstore, although they don’t seem to be too friendly to colored folks . . . until you show your money for a book.”

“Your father wouldn’t approve of us meeting?”

“You met him didn’t you?”

“I guess he wouldn’t.”

“I’m a grown woman, in case you hadn’t noticed. Mama was married by my age. I can do what I please. I just don’t want a big squabble with Papa during my short stay.”

“Follow me,” she said, mounting the buckskin.

As they eased the horses carefully along the steep trail winding down to the Big Blue Valley, Serena pointed to a rocky butte rising like a giant molar from a forested shroud of oak and ash to the east. “That’s where I was headed.”

“To the mesa?”

“Yes. We’ll have to climb when we get there. We can tie the horses in the shade near the spring at the base of the bluff. There’s tallgrass for them to graze on.”

“What about your ankle?”

“Almost as good as new . . . if I have trouble, you can carry me.”

He squinted one eye in disbelief. “You’re not serious, I hope.”

“You were so chivalrous when I was hurt. You’re no longer the knight in shining armor?”

“I’ll carry you.”

She laughed. “You probably would. Don’t worry; I’ll be fine. You’re way too serious sometimes.”

Spring 1885

14

F
OR
PROPRIETY
’
S
SAKE
Thad insisted on Pilar’s presence when he examined Kirsten in Cam’s study. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Maxwell Brannon had rendered the beating, but Kirsten’s recovery was remarkable. There was no indication of infection in the head and face wounds. Upon a cursory examination of the breast, he determined that the wounds, while still ghastly-looking, had not worsened and the bleeding had been sealed.

“Are you experiencing much pain?” he asked.

“Not a lot. When it gets too bad, I take the aspirin. It does work, Doc.”

“You’re fortunate I had some. It’s rather hard to come by, and my inventory of human medications is a bit skimpy.”

Her face was swollen and had turned to a massive blue and purple, but her ribs, while deeply bruised, seemed to have withstood the blows quite well. He knew that rib injuries could be particularly painful and long-lasting, but she walked with little stiffness and no complaint. Tough lady.

After the doctoring they joined Cam and the kids at the supper table, where Pilar and Cookie had put together a spread of beef ribs, mashed potatoes and refried beans, the latter evidently a concession to Pilar’s Mexican heritage. The valiant Cam was actually something of a fussy eater and not that fond of Mexican food. Pilar spoiled him most of the time. A delicious flan followed the main course, and Thad noticed Cam was not discriminatory when it came to dessert. Thad would have enjoyed a bit more time with precocious, eleven-year-old Sarah and Ben, who was four years younger with his father’s flair for the stage, but Cam rose from the table and suggested Thad and Kirsten join them in the study.

Assembled at Cam’s massive oak desk, Cam said, “I’ve arranged for Dr. Roberts to come out here tomorrow to examine Kirsten. We need a second evaluation of her injuries in the event her case goes to trial.”

“I understand that,” Thad said. “I assume you’re aware the bruising will be more vivid tomorrow?”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

“She’s doing remarkably well for what she’s been through. Someone will need to remove the stitches in a week or so.”

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” Kirsten interrupted, “I’m in attendance at this little meeting, and I don’t appreciate the two of you talking about me like I’m a dumb monkey, and Cam, you can get your ass out of here . . . I want to talk some business with the Doc.”

“You asked if you could have a meeting in the study, so I just assumed—”

“Wrong assumption. I don’t want to pay for your time for this business. If we need a lawyer, we’ll talk to your father.”

Cam was obviously baffled and somewhat taken aback. Thad knew he was not accustomed to this lack of deference, and he could sense the racing of his brother’s mind, probably coming to the conclusion he had a loose cannon of a client, who would need to be disarmed soon. But not now. Cam got up. “Let me know if you need me . . . but I won’t hold my breath.”

Cam closed the door as he left the room, and Kirsten turned to Thad, “I pissed him off, didn’t I?”

“I would say so.”

“He’s so damned bossy.”

“I’d strongly advise that you listen to him when it comes to your case.”

She nodded. “I will. I just want him to know that he’s not going to lead me around like a mindless idiot. I had six older brothers, and I learned early you have to push back sometimes with the male species.”

“It appears to me you learned very well.”

“Well, I guess I’d better get down to business.”

“I have to admit I’m a little curious.”

“It’s about Clem Rickers’ half section.”

“You mentioned that.” Thad knew all about the 320 acres, which included nearly 40 acres of Big Blue bottomland with rich, fertile soil that was hard to come by in this hilly, rocky country. The south quarter section was all prime, tallgrass prairie, a rancher’s paradise. The crop land was all located in the north quarter along with a bit less than sixty acres of grass. The balance of the north quarter was essentially trees and wasteland with a few nearly impassable bluffs, one of which flattened out into a broad mesa that had a special meaning to him.

“You know the place?”

“More or less.”

“Clem wants to sell the land pretty bad.”

“He hasn’t owned it more than four years. Why does he want to sell?”

“He doesn’t own any other land within five miles. With all the fences going up, that’s a long way to drive cattle to and from pasture every season. He didn’t even run cattle on the grass this season and didn’t plant a seed on the crop ground.”

“I did notice that. I thought it was strange. You can’t turn a profit that way.”

“The old fart’s past eighty. He came out to this country with the Free-Staters almost thirty years ago. He loved the Flint Hills, but his wife hated it here and went back to Ohio, taking their two nearly grown daughters with her. He let all but one or two of his hands go, and he’s cutting his operation way back.”

“So, what do I have to do with this?”

“I want you to partner with me on the land.”
 

Thad eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

“I worked out a deal with Clem before Max . . . passed away. I haven’t told Cam about this . . . I know I’ll have to . . . but Clem agreed to sell the whole thing for twenty dollars an acre. Close to robbery, but the south boundary’s less than a mile from my home section, and I figured someday I could link it all up.”

It was an old story. Ranchers weren’t land hogs; they only wanted the land next to them. “I still don’t see where I fit.”

“After selling off some of the yearlings and adding the rest of some money my dad left me, I could only come up with half of the $6,200. I think I could have taken out a mortgage for the other half, but Max would have had to sign the note and lien papers. He said he wouldn’t do it unless I put his name on the home section and another three hundred acres I own. I told him he could go to hell. I finally gave in and said we could own the Rickers land together. He refused and said it was all or nothing. That was the first time he beat the shit out of me.”

“You do need to tell Cam about this. I’m not a lawyer, but I’ll bet Frank Fuller would love to know about this.”

“I’ll talk to your brother first thing in the morning. But I came up with this idea that I’d talk to you and see if you’d be interested in going partners on the deal. We’d split the land some way.”

“The bottomland’s on the north quarter . . . and the waste and buttes.”

“Well, shit . . . take the south, but the south’s closer to my place. I just figured we’d each have the parcel that’s closer to our home places. And I’m not a farmer. I don’t give a damn about the bottomland.”

“If . . . and I say ‘if’ we partnered, I’d want the north quarter section, so we don’t have differences on that score.”

“You’re nuts. You’d be taking all the wasteland and the bluffs.”

 
“And I’d have the bottomland.”

She looked at Thad suspiciously and was silent for some moments. He met her gaze. “What?”

“You said you knew about Clem’s land ‘more or less.’ I think it’s ‘more.’”

“Alright,” he replied, “I do know something about the properties. And I like the bottomland. I’d lease it out on shares and get a cash crop to help pay for the place. And I don’t have enough cow-calf pairs yet to stock the pasture . . . I’d rent it out to you if you wanted.”

“At least you’re starting to make some sense, Doc. But you’re still dancing around the truth. Please, don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”

Thad sighed and shrugged. The woman was nothing if not insightful. “Okay, I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

“I never thought that.”

“I was just embarrassed to tell you my real reason for wanting the north quarter . . . it’s the buttes.”

“You’re serious, I think.” She cocked her head to the side, looking at him quizzically.

“I’ve spent some time at the top of one of the buttes over the years . . . a breathtaking view. I always thought I’d like to own it.”

“That doesn’t make business sense, but, of course, you’re not telling me most of the story, whatever it is. But I’m pretty sure it’s none of my business. I wouldn’t mind seeing it sometime, though.”

Thad was non-committal. If Kirsten Cavelle wanted to see the view, she was on her own.

“So,” Kirsten asked, “will you work with me on this deal if you can take the north quarter? I’m getting the parcel I want. I just want grass to fill up with Red Angus. My pastures are overstocked right now.”

“Have you discussed this with Cam?”

“I mentioned it. He thought I was insane to be even thinking about this right now. And he said it wouldn’t look good if it came out I was buying land right after I supposedly murdered my husband.”

“That thought had occurred to me.”

“I’ve got a plan.”
 

Thad wasn’t certain he wanted to hear it. This woman was moving way too fast for him. She was beyond strange. He sighed—she seemed to leave him sighing a lot, he noted—“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the plan?”

“You buy the entire half section. When this is all over, I’ll buy the south quarter from you. I’ll advance the money for my half. It will be a loan, and you can give me a note”