The Enchanted Land (17 page)

J
AKE
had been riding for three days when he first saw the circle of buzzards. He removed his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, and spurred his tired horse forward. At the bottom of the arroyo he saw the ruin and next to it a large dark form. He shot at the birds, scattering them. Something inside of him knew it was Seth there, lying so still, the hot New Mexico sun beating down on him. He was unaware of the tears that began to roll down his cheeks. He had one goal, and even his blurring vision couldn’t keep him from it.

Seth was on his stomach, blood forming a halo around his head and across his shoulders. Carefully, Jake turned the big man over, cradling his head in his arms. His sobs were louder now and he rubbed his sleeve across his nose.

“Seth, boy. You hear me? It’s Jake. I come to take you home.”

It seemed an hour before Jake could still his own heart’s frantic beating long enough to listen for Seth’s. When he felt a slight pulse, he raised his tear-filled eyes skyward and offered a prayer of thanks.

He lay the wounded man’s head down on the ground and went to his horse for his canteen. Slowly, he poured a few drops of water onto Seth’s parched, cracked lips. Seth rolled his head and groaned.

“Just be still now, boy. You’ll be all right. Drink slow, now.”

“Morgan.” Seth’s voice was a harsh whisper and his breathing was ragged.

“Don’t talk none. Just let ol’ Jake take care of you. Like I done since you was a little boy.”

Jake wet his handkerchief and began to wipe Seth’s face. There was no way at first to tell the extent of his wounds, because his entire body from the waist up was covered with patches of dried blood. Jake used nearly all the water he had in his two canteens cleaning the nasty wound on the side of Seth’s head.

“Got to get you home now, so’s we can take care of you.” The older man smiled down at Seth’s enormous body. “You always was too big for your own good. Now I bet you wish you was just ordinary size, something ol’ Jake could handle.”

Jake used his sleeve to wipe his tears. “Got me bawlin’ like a baby. Always did care too much for you.” Jake looked around at the scrawny trees on the side of the arroyo, judging them for size. He stroked Seth’s forehead. He was flushed, showing signs of fever. “We’re gonna get you out of here Injun-style.”

The knowledge that Seth was still alive gave Jake new energy, even after the three long days in the saddle. Slowly, carefully, he fashioned a travois from two young trees and strips of blanket from his bedroll. It took several hours, because he needed to make it strong enough to carry Seth’s enormous body without any mishap.

His horse was tired and protested loudly when Jake fastened the travois to the saddle. The sun was just setting, turning the horizon red and orange. Jake knew he and his horse should rest, but if he waited until morning, it would mean traveling under the hot sun.

It took all of Jake’s strength to get Seth onto the travois. Seth made no sound, hardly even opened his eyes, yet Jake could see the pain on his face as he tried to move. He was still semiconscious, and Jake knew
Seth was using all the strength he had to control the pain. His shoulder wound reopened and began to bleed again. The ugly wound on the side of his head was puffy and looked as if it might be infected.

“That’s good, boy. The hard part’s over. Now we’re going to take it real slow and get you home.”

They traveled all night. Jake led the horse most of the time rather than riding it. That way he could see more clearly and lead the tired horse around rough spots and mesquite bushes. Jake stopped often and bathed Seth’s face with cool water. Seth seemed to realize that he was being taken care of. He began to relax and let the pain take over.

The fever increased and he began to lose consciousness. He mumbled Morgan’s name over and over.

“We’ll find the little girl. Just as soon as we get back to the ranch, we’ll find her for you. She’s probably there now, worried sick about you.”

When the sun began to rise, Jake started to look for a place to spend the hot part of the day. He didn’t dare travel with Seth exposed to the sun.

He found a muddy-bottomed arroyo, and after digging a hole about two feet deep, he had enough water to bathe Seth’s wounds. Under the shade of an old piñon tree, he cut away Seth’s shirt and began to examine the wound. The bullet had gone through, making a large but clean hole.

For the first time since he had found Seth, his joy at finding him alive began to turn to anger. “Why would anyone want to hurt my boy?” Seth’s breath whistled through his clenched teeth.

“I’ll kill whoever did this. Shot a man and then left him to die in his own blood. They didn’t even make sure he was dead, just left him to rot in the sun. A man wouldn’t even treat a dog like that.”

As he pulled Seth to one side to cut away the rest of his shirt, Seth’s face blanched, and Jake saw the pain in
his glazed eyes. Carefully, Jake felt along Seth’s side and knew the ribs were broken. He removed his own shirt and tied it around Seth’s ribs, binding them.

Jake covered Seth’s body from the drafts, and the big man slept. Jake didn’t even have a shirt to cover his bony body from the sand burrs and needles of the ground, but he lay close to Seth’s travois, and slept.

It was late afternoon when he awoke. Seth’s breath was shallow and fast, and when Jake felt his forehead, it was cool and his fingers were cold. He was beginning to try to move, to kick the blankets off, but at the same time clutching them closer.

“Easy, boy. Quiet now.”

“Morgan…”

“We’re going to her. We’ll find her. Just be quiet and she’ll be with you soon.”

They traveled many hours, and Jake became increasingly worried about Seth. Walking beside the tired horse, he began to piece together what he knew of the few days before Seth was hurt. And by the time he came to the Colter ranch, he knew that Joaquín Montoya was responsible for this.

Lupita hadn’t slept much since Morgan had ridden to Santa Fe with Lena. Somehow she had known that things were going to turn out badly. When neither Seth nor Morgan returned the day after the party, she was sure that something was wrong. Paul had laughed at her, but Jake worried as much about Seth as she did. They had waited all that day and night, and early the second morning he had set out to find Seth.

“You’ll be embarrassed when you find them nestled in some cabin somewhere. The way they act around here, they may not be back for weeks,” Paul had teased Jake.

Jake’s mouth had been set, clamped over near-toothless gums. “I’d rather be caught with my hand in
the pot than be here when the boy needs me someplace else.”

Paul doubled up with laughter. “Boy! Seth’s gonna love this! You’re half that boy’s size, and I don’t think he’s gonna need any help with that little wife of his.”

Jake had ignored him and finished saddling his horse.

Lupita had been nervous and on the alert ever since then, so when the first sounds came to her, she was ready in seconds. When she first saw the tired figure of Jake outlined in the moonlight, she started toward him. The sight of the travois stopped her. She turned and ran toward Paul’s cabin.

Within minutes the young foreman was dressed and running ahead of Lupita toward Jake.

Jake motioned toward Seth, and Paul went to him. Now that Jake had brought his beloved boy home, his own strength was going.

Silently, the three of them carried Seth into the house and put him into the big double bed that he and Morgan had so recently shared. Lupita deftly began to cut away Jake’s makeshift bandages, removed the rest of Seth’s clothes, and began washing him. His body was hot now, and he moaned when the cool cloth touched his fevered skin. Lupita gradually became aware of loud voices in the next room.

“You can’t go anywhere, old man. You wouldn’t even make it to the corral.”

“Just who the hell do you think you’re callin’ an old man? It was me that brought him back.” Jake raised his fists toward Paul.

“What’s going on here? Isn’t there enough to worry us without you two fighting? And why are you still here? One of you should go…”

Jake lowered his fists and checked his gun. “That’s just where I’m going—to kill that Montoya.”

“Jake, you’ve got to let the sheriff handle this. You can’t just ride into the Montoya ranch and kill Joaquín.”

“Sheriff! Kill!” Lupita fairly screamed. “There’s one man in there nearly dead, and you two talk of more killing! Before anyone kills anyone, I want a doctor here!”

Both Paul and Jake stared blankly at Lupita.

“Jake, I’ll need your help here.” She knew how tired the little man must be. “Paul, go into town and get the doctor, and then get the sheriff—but a doctor is what we need most.” She turned toward the bedroom, took a few steps, and then turned back to the two men. “Does a man have to
die
to get you two to move?”

Quickly, Jake followed Lupita and Paul left the house.

In the hours that followed, Seth began to talk, mostly saying Morgan’s name over and over. As Lupita continued to wash Seth, she noticed his left hand always clenched into a fist.

“Jake, what does he have in his hand?” It took the two of them to pry open his fist. Jake read the note from Morgan first to himself and then to Lupita.

Jake sat down in a chair heavily. “How could she have done this? How could she leave Seth for a man like Montoya?” He looked at Seth, the tears forming in his eyes again. “She did that to him, as much as if she’d pulled the trigger herself.”

“No,” Lupita’s voice was a whisper, “I do not believe it. No.” She looked up at Jake. “It is a trick of some sort. She loved him. She could not pretend so well.”

“We have proof that she aimed to run off, and the proof involves Montoya, too.”

Lupita’s eyes held Jake’s. “You may believe your little piece of paper, but I will believe what I know to be true. Señora Colter was very much in love with Seth, and she would not leave him of her own free will.”

Jake turned his back on her. “We’ll see what the sheriff says,” he mumbled.

It was nearly daylight when Paul returned with the sheriff. Jake had finally dozed off in the big chair beside Seth, but he was quickly through the doorway, showing the sheriff the note.

“Hold on, Jake. I know how you feel, but I can’t just shoot the man. We went to the Montoya ranch first and Señor Montoya had witnesses who said he was there all night. This note mentions Joaquín, but we can’t even be sure when it was written.”

“I don’t care how many witnesses the little bastard has! He nearly killed my boy!”

“All right. We’ll go again. We’ll face him with the note. The doctor should be here any minute. He was out in Pecos, so it’ll take him a while. Paul, you ready?”

Helplessly, Jake watched them go. An hour later the doctor came.

He complimented Jake for the care he had given Seth on the rough trail, and after he had examined him, said there was nothing else to do but wait and see if the fever broke. He wrapped the broken ribs tightly, to keep him from breathing too deeply and putting one through his lungs.

Seth’s fever raged for days. Lupita and Jake took turns sponging his perspiring body and forcing broth down his throat. He talked a lot about Morgan, and how he loved her, how he wanted her. He kept calling for her, asking where she was, sensing even in his delirium that she wasn’t there. With every mention of her name, Jake’s hatred for Morgan grew.

After nearly a week, Paul and the sheriff returned to the Colter ranch. They had been searching for Joaquín and Lena Montoya all that time. They had returned to the Montoya ranch the morning after Jake had brought Seth back and found the servants closing down the house. Joaquín and Lena had left immediately after the sheriff’s first visit.

“They didn’t plan on Seth still being alive,” Jake yelled in frustration.

“Someone should try to find the Señora Colter.” The three men turned to stare at Lupita.

“But she’s the one who caused all this. She and Montoya had their escape planned. It probably wasn’t Montoya’s sister who left with him at all.”

“Jake’s right.” Paul’s voice was calm and tired. “I think we should leave this up to Seth. When he’s well, he’ll decide whether he believes his wife’s note or not.” Paul’s expression left in doubt none of his feelings toward Morgan.

With a sigh of resignation, Lupita went back to Seth.

It was two more weeks before the fever broke.

“Lupita?”

Lupita turned from gazing out of the window. She whirled toward him. “Señor Colter. You are well.” Her voice held both joy and relief.

Seth grinned weakly at her. “I don’t think I’m well of anything yet. Everything hurts. How long have I have been ill?”

“Three weeks now.”

“Three weeks! Where is everyone? Where’s Morgan and Jake and Paul and … food! I’ve never been so hungry in my life. Tell Morgan I want some of those little doughnuts of hers and one of those cheese and bacon things in the crust.” He grinned as Lupita hurried from the room. “Tell Morgan I want her
now
!” he called toward the door.

He lifted himself up and grabbed a pillow to prop behind his head. He ran his hand over the welt on the side of his head and felt where the scar ran under his hair. His ribs and shoulder hurt, and his legs ached. “Three weeks!” he murmured. “I’ll bet Morgan had her hands full, but I’ll make up for lost time.”

He grinned at himself. Smells from the kitchen
reached him and he wondered where the hell she was. What was taking her so long?

He put his hands out in front of him, stretching his muscles, easing some of the stiffness that three weeks in bed had caused. “Three weeks in bed,” he laughed. “I bet I spend the next three weeks in bed, too, but not for the same reason. And not alone! Where is she?”

It was then that he noticed the white spot on his little finger. Morgan’s ring! Where was it? And then, in a flash, he remembered everything, every ugly detail.

He put his hands over his eyes, rubbing the heels deep into the sockets, trying to block out the images… Joaquín and Morgan in the garden… Joaquín giving him the note… Joaquín aiming the pistol and firing. “No,” he whispered. “Please, God, no!”