The Loner (11 page)

A couple of minutes later, Dr. McNally came in with Eve following him. “My daughter tells me you’re ready to get up,” the doctor said.

Morgan nodded. “It’s time.”

“You know, most people with a gunshot wound like that would be laid up for a couple of weeks, maybe even a month.”

Most people couldn’t have been shot like that and gone on to do everything he had afterward, Morgan thought. Thinking of his father, he said, “I come from good stock.”

Eve crossed her arms and said, “I told him it was a bad idea.”

McNally rubbed at his chin. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s young, and he was obviously in good health before he got shot. Plus he’s been eating like a horse for days now.”

That was true. Morgan’s appetite had come back stronger than ever.

“I think it’ll be all right to give it a try,” McNally went on.

Morgan threw back the sheet and started to swing his legs out of the bed.

“Now, don’t rush things,” McNally said. He moved to Morgan’s side and took hold of his right arm. “Eve, get his other arm. Take it slow and easy. Try standing up first, and see how that makes you feel.”

With the two of them helping him, Morgan stood up. His legs were a little unsteady at first, but he was able to stiffen the muscles and straighten to his full height.

“I’m not dizzy,” he said.

“That’s a good sign,” McNally agreed. “Take a step.”

Morgan had a bad second or two when he thought his legs weren’t going to obey his commands, but then he moved his right leg forward, braced himself, and took a step with the left. “I’m walking across the room,” he said.

“Don’t get in a hurry. Eve, hang on to him.”

“I’ve got him,” Eve said grimly.

With slow and methodical steps, Morgan walked across the room. Then he walked back to the bed, and by the time he got there, he was exhausted. As they helped him lie down, he sank gratefully onto the mattress.

“Guess I’m not…as strong as I thought I was,” he said.

“Just stronger than most of the folks I’ve ever seen,” McNally said with a smile. “You did just fine, Mr. Morgan. You’ll be up and around in no time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Morgan said.

By the time a couple of more days had gone by, McNally’s prediction was proven true. Morgan could stand up by himself, walk around the room, and even venture out into the rest of the house. The first time he walked into the family’s parlor, with Eve at his side, he saw where the music had been coming from.

Mrs. McNally sat in a rocking chair with a lace doily over the back of it. Her hair was neatly combed and braided now, and she wore a simple housedress. Next to the rocking chair was a table, also covered with a doily, and on the table sat the Gramophone, a polished wooden box with a crank handle on the side, a turntable for the shellac discs on which the music was recorded, and a needle arm connected to a large, brass, trumpet-shaped horn that angled into the air. The turntable was revolving at the moment, and as the needle followed the grooves etched into the disc, the vibrations were transmitted to a diaphragm in the base of the horn that converted them to music. Morgan had seen several of the machines before and was fascinated by the process.

Mrs. McNally looked up at him and exclaimed, “Joseph!”

“No, Mama,” Eve said quickly, going to the chair to keep her mother from getting up. “This isn’t Joseph. It’s one of Pa’s patients, Mr. Morgan.”

“Oh.” The old woman sat back in the chair and seemed to lose interest in Morgan. The Gramophone needle reached the end of the grooves. She moved it aside, took the disc off the turntable, and replaced it with another one she took from a box that sat on the table next to the Gramophone. She turned the crank on the side of the machine until the turntable was spinning smoothly, then placed the needle at its outer edge. Music filled the room again.

“She sits there and does that all day?” Morgan said under his breath as Eve came back to his side.

She nodded. “All day,” she replied, and he plainly heard the sorrow in her voice. “But when people lose something so precious to them as Joe was to her, they do whatever they have to in order to keep going.”

Morgan understood that all too well. Mrs. McNally clung to the hope that someday her lost boy would return.

Morgan’s hope was that he would live long enough to see all the bastards who’d murdered Rebel die.

The next afternoon, Morgan was sitting in the parlor with Bearpaw and Mrs. McNally when Eve came hurrying in from outside. Morgan knew she had walked down to the general store owned by her uncle to pick up a few supplies. She clutched a bundle in her arms, but as Morgan looked at her, he could tell that something was wrong. Her face was flushed and she was breathing heavily, as if she’d been running.

And she looked scared, too. Morgan recognized the expression right away.

He stood up and said, “What is it?” As long as he didn’t try to move too quickly, he could get around fairly well now.

“Nothing,” Eve said, but the answer came too fast. Morgan knew she was lying, and so did Bearpaw.

“Something is wrong,” the Paiute said. “You might as well tell us, Eve.”

She glanced at her mother and then inclined her head toward the door that led into the kitchen. “Not here,” she said.

Morgan realized that she didn’t want to explain in front of Mrs. McNally. He nodded and followed her into the kitchen, along with Bearpaw.

Eve set the package of supplies on the table and turned to Morgan and Bearpaw. “There’s no reason for either of you to get involved in this,” she said. “It’s over and done with, and nobody was hurt. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Why don’t you tell us what happened and let us be the judge of that?” Bearpaw said.

Eve grimaced. “All right. I was in Uncle Ned’s store when those two troublemakers came in.”

“Garrity and Jessup?” Bearpaw asked.

She nodded. “That’s right.” With a glance at Morgan, she added, “Those are the two men who’ve been hanging around town the past week or so, the ones who fired those shots yesterday.”

“I figured as much,” Morgan said.

“Anyway, they came up to me and started…saying things. Making rude comments. You know, the way some men do around women.”

“A man who doesn’t treat women with respect isn’t worthy of the name,” Morgan snapped. Another lesson he had learned from Frank.

“I can’t argue with that,” Eve said. “I tried to ignore them, but they wouldn’t go away. Then Uncle Ned heard what was going on and got the shotgun he keeps under the counter. He told them to get out of his store and not set foot in there again.”

“Did they leave?” Morgan asked.

“They did, but not before cursing Uncle Ned and telling him that he’d be sorry. That scared me even more than the things they’d been saying to me. But when they were gone, he told me not to worry about it. He said they were just full of hot air and bluster.”

Morgan wasn’t so sure about that. He had seen hardcases like those two before. Sometimes they’d back down if one of their victims stood up to them, but sometimes challenging them just made them more dangerous. You had to be prepared for whichever way it went.

“I went ahead and got the supplies and started to walk home,” Eve continued, “but then I saw Garrity and Jessup following me on their horses.”

Morgan stiffened with anger. “Did they bother you again?”

She shook her head. “No. They stayed back. But just seeing them following me like that, walking their horses along the road and grinning…well, it frightened me. I started running.”

Bearpaw said, “That’s probably all they wanted, just to scare you and upset you.”

“Then they succeeded,” Eve said. “I’m scared and upset. But like I said starting out, it’s over now, and no harm was done.”

“Let’s hope that’s right,” Morgan said.

He wasn’t convinced that Garrity and Jessup would give up that easily, though.

Bearpaw lived in a shack on Sawtooth Creek, about a mile from the settlement. He had gone home that evening, while Morgan sat in the parlor with the McNallys. Mrs. McNally played the Gramophone and rocked slowly back and forth. Dr. McNally dozed in a chair, the copy of the Sawtooth
Gazette
he had been reading spread out in his lap. Eve worked on some mending, while Morgan tried to read the copy of
Paradise Lost
that Bearpaw had loaned him. The words that had flowed so well off the Paiute’s tongue weren’t nearly as easy to read. Morgan couldn’t get too interested in the poem’s story either. He had already been to hell, and he had no real hope of heaven.

A knock on the door made McNally start up from his nap, sputtering and fumbling with the newspaper. “A doctor never gets to take it easy for very long,” he said as he got to his feet. He went to the door and opened it.

The man who stood there didn’t appear to need a doctor. He seemed to be hale and hearty. The badge pinned to his vest told Morgan that he was a lawman of some sort.

“Hello, Zeke,” McNally said. “Is somebody sick at the jail?”

“No, but you better come downtown with me right away, Doc,” the man said. “Somebody jumped your brother Ned while he was lockin’ up his store and beat the hell out of him.” The lawman glanced at Eve and Mrs. McNally and added, “Beg your pardon for the language, ladies.”

Eve had cried out softly as the lawman broke the news. She put a hand to her mouth for a second, then stood up and said angrily, “It was those two drifters, Garrity and Jessup! It had to be, Marshal.”

The man frowned at her. “Why’s that, Eve?”

“Because Uncle Ned had trouble with them this afternoon.” In a few hurried words, she told him about the encounter in the store. “They warned him he’d be sorry for pointing that shotgun at them. They came back and attacked him, Marshal. It had to be them!”

“Well, I haven’t had a chance to ask Ned about it yet. Maybe he got a good look at them.”

Dr. McNally had grabbed his hat, coat, and medical bag. “I’m ready to go, Zeke,” he said as he came back to the door. The two men hurried out.

Morgan felt the urge to go with them, but he knew there was nothing he could do to help. Also, even though he was a lot stronger than he had been, he wasn’t up to a walk of several blocks.

Besides, he didn’t think the two women ought to be left here alone.

“I’m sure your uncle will be all right,” he told Eve. “Your pa’s a mighty good doctor.”

“Of course he is,” Eve said. She clasped her hands together. “I’m just upset because this is all my fault.”

Morgan stared at her. “How in the world do you figure that?” he asked. “You’re not the one who jumped your uncle and beat him.”

“No, but it’s because of me that it happened. Uncle Ned wouldn’t be hurt now if he hadn’t been defending me from those two…”

“Varmints is a good word,” Morgan suggested.

“I was thinking of something a little stronger,” Eve said with a glance toward her mother, who was still rocking and playing the Gramophone, seemingly oblivious to what was going on.

Morgan stood up and went over to Eve. “Look,” he said, “you’re not to blame for any of this. The ones responsible are the ones who actually did it. Nobody else.”

“I know that, but still—”

“No buts about it,” Morgan said. “That’s the way it is. Blaming yourself for something when it’s not your fault isn’t going to do anybody any good. Blaming yourself when it
is
your fault doesn’t do any good either, unless you try to set things right.”

He knew that from bitter experience.

“I suppose you’re right,” Eve said with a sigh. “I wonder if I should go down to the store.”

“Might be better to stay here, in case your mother needs you.” That was true enough. Morgan didn’t particularly want to be left alone with Mrs. McNally either.

Eve paced worriedly until her father returned an hour later. “Ned’s going to be all right,” he said as soon as he came in. “They gave him a good thrashing, and he’s got a broken rib and a busted nose. But he’ll recover. We took him home and patched him up. Your Aunt Charlene will look after him.”

“Thank God,” Eve said. “It was Garrity and Jessup, wasn’t it?”

McNally shrugged. “Ned couldn’t say for sure. It was dark, and they jumped him from behind. He said he never got a good look at their faces.”

“You
know
it had to be them,” Eve insisted.

“I’m sure it was,” her father agreed, “but knowing something and being able to prove it are two different things. Still, Marshal Chambliss said he was going to run Garrity and Jessup out of town anyway. They’ve stirred up enough trouble in other ways to justify that.”

“I hope he’s careful,” Eve said. “Those two are loco. Crazy mean. You can tell it by looking in their eyes.” She crossed her arms and shuddered.

A short time after that, when one of the Gramophone discs reached its end, Mrs. McNally said, “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. I want to be rested in the morning, because I think that’s when Joseph will be back.”

“You never can tell,” McNally said, humoring her as he and Eve always did. He went to her and took her arm as she stood up from the rocking chair. “Come along, dear. I think I’ll turn in, too.”

They went into their bedroom, leaving Morgan and Eve alone in the parlor. Eve sat on the divan, Morgan in an armchair near the fireplace that was cold at this time of year.

“Another week or two and you’ll be able to ride again,” Eve said. “What will you do then, Mr. Morgan?”

“I’ll have to be moving on. I told you, I have places to go and things to do.” He didn’t offer any details, and Eve didn’t press him for them.

In fact, she said, “I’m not sure I want to know what sort of things you have to do. I have a feeling that they’re not very pleasant.”

Morgan shrugged. He didn’t expect to get any pleasure out of killing Lasswell and the other kidnappers. It was just something he had to do, as he’d told Eve.

She stood up and said, “I’ll help you get ready for bed.”

“I can take care of myself,” Morgan said. “Things are different now. I’m not helpless anymore.”

“I suppose you’re right about that. I’ll say good night, then—”

Eve stopped short and Morgan’s head lifted as the sound of shots drifted in from the night. These were farther away than the ones he’d heard yesterday, Morgan thought, but still close enough to be clearly audible.

“That came from downtown,” Eve said as she stood up from the divan and turned anxiously toward the door.

Morgan got to his feet as well and said, “Hold on. You’re not thinking about going down there, are you?”

“Someone could be hurt.”

“Yeah, and maybe some drunk was just firing into the air, or somebody was blowing off steam like those two drifters yesterday. If anybody’s wounded, I’m sure the marshal will come to fetch your father.”

“Well…I suppose you’re right. Still, I just hate to hear shots. I hope Mama didn’t hear them. Things like that can really upset her.”

The vehemence with which she spoke surprised Morgan a little, and he wondered if there was some special reason Eve didn’t like the sound of gunshots.

“I’m not going to bed yet,” she went on. “I’m going to wait up a little while and make sure nobody needs medical help before I turn in.”

“I’ll wait up with you,” Morgan said.

“You need your rest—”

“I’ve been getting plenty of rest. Probably more than I ever have in my life.”

That was true, Morgan thought, at least to a certain extent. Since he’d been an adult and been forced by his mother’s death to take over the management of the Browning financial interests, he had worked long hours, and even when he was at home instead of the office, he spent too much time worrying about the business.

That was one thing about overpowering grief—it swept away all the other concerns and made a man realize just how petty so many of his worries really were. And getting shot and losing a lot of blood wore a man out to the point that he had no choice except to rest.

He and Eve sat down again. A couple of minutes of awkward silence went by, and then both of them sat up straighter as they heard horses outside.

“Someone
was
hurt,” Eve began. “I’ll fetch Pa—”

“Hey!” a man shouted outside. “There in the house? Are you there, Red?”

Eve’s hand went to her mouth. Her face paled in shock. “That’s one of them!” she said to Morgan in a half whisper. “Garrity or Jessup! That’s what they were calling me in Uncle Ned’s store this afternoon.”

The two troublemakers showing up at the McNally house so soon after those gunshots didn’t bode well, Morgan thought. He got to his feet and blew out the lamp, then told Eve, “Don’t answer them.”

A second man shouted, “We know you’re in there, Red! Blowin’ out the lamp ain’t gonna do you no good! C’mon out here and talk to us!”

The door to the elder McNallys’ room opened. The doctor said, “Eve, what’s going on? What’s all that yelling?”

“It’s Garrity and Jessup, Pa,” she told him. Morgan heard her moving across the room toward her father. Eve knew the furnishings so well she didn’t need any light in order to be able to get around.

“I thought I heard some gunshots a few minutes ago,” McNally said worriedly. “Thank God your mother is already sound asleep.”

“There were shots downtown,” Morgan said. “Then those troublemakers showed up here.”

“Oh, Lord,” McNally mumbled. “I’d better see if I can find my gun—”

Morgan snapped, “Don’t do it. You’d just be giving them an excuse to shoot you.”

From outside, one of the men shouted, “You’d damn well better listen in there! We just shot your marshal! Ain’t nobody comin’ to help you! Send out that redheaded gal, or we’ll torch the place!”

“Yeah!” the other hardcase agreed with glee in his voice. “We’ll burn it to the ground!”

“What are we going to do?” Eve asked in a terrified whisper. “They’ve already murdered Marshal Chambliss!”

Morgan moved toward them in the darkness. He reached out, touched Eve’s shoulder. She gasped and tried to pull away from him, but his fingers tightened on her.

“Listen to me,” he said. “You and your father go back in your parents’ room and stay there. I’ll handle this.”

“But you’re wounded, son,” McNally objected.

“I’m strong enough to deal with a couple of skunks like those two,” Morgan declared. He hoped he was right about that. Otherwise, these people who had done so much to help him might be in bad trouble. He wasn’t going to show them any doubts that he might have, though. Instead, he went on. “It’ll be all right. You have my word on that.”