The Outlaw Takes a Bride (11 page)

The teller pulled the paper back through to his side of the grille and picked it up. He smiled. “A little wobbly, but it’ll do.”

Johnny put the pen back in its holder and scooped up the ten dollars. “Thanks again.”

Cam was waiting for him just outside the door. As soon as he was outside, Johnny handed him the money.

“Take that and get me to the doctor. Now.”

“That nice lady who just went in there told me exactly where the doc’s office is. We can walk if you’d like.”

That would certainly be better than mounting and dismounting again. Johnny nodded.

They walked down the street and around a corner.

“It’s yonder.” Cam pointed, and Johnny saw the sign—D
R
. J
OHN
N
EALE
—before a house. Two saddle horses were hitched to a rail in front.

“I can make it,” Johnny said. “You go check on the train. See how much time we’ve got.”

Cam gave him part of the money and headed off toward the depot. Johnny hobbled to the doctor’s house and up the front steps. A card on the door said, W
ALK
I
N
, so he did. A man wearing a suit and high-collared shirt stood talking to another man, this one in dusty work clothes.

“I’ll come by this afternoon,” the well-dressed man said. Johnny’s expectations rose that this was the physician. When the second man thanked him and left, Johnny stepped forward.

“Are you Doc Neale?”

“I am. I take it your arm needs attention?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Step through.”

Johnny followed him into another, smaller room that might have once been a dining room or bedroom. Now a high, narrow cot stood in the middle of the floor.

“Sit there.”

Johnny sank onto the stool he indicated.

“What’s your name?”

Johnny’s throat tightened. “Mark Paynter.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before, but I’ve only been in town a few months.” Dr. Neale unpinned the sling from Johnny’s shirtfront and removed it gently.

“Horse get the best of you?”

“Something like that.”

“Let’s get your shirt off.”

The doctor eased the sleeve off his left arm and hung the shirt on a peg behind the door. When he came back, he touched Johnny’s right arm lightly. Johnny flinched and ground his teeth.

“Hurts, eh?”

“You said it,” Johnny mumbled.

“I’ll give you something for the pain. At least it’s not a compound fracture.” The doctor prodded gently, and Johnny made himself sit still for it. “Feels like the humerus is broken.” At Johnny’s blank look, he said, “That’s the bone in your upper arm. The ends of the bone actually seem to be together. I think it’s more cracked across, rather than snapped in two pieces.”

“Does that mean you don’t have to set it?”

“I’ll manipulate it a little, but I don’t think I’ll put a cast on it. This type of fracture can usually be healed by keeping the limb strapped in place. I’ll give you a proper sling, and that should work as well as anything. But you’ve got to keep it immobilized. No thrashing about or trying to use it too soon.” While he spoke, the doctor turned away to a worktable and busied himself making notes and then shuffling a few bottles from the row at the back of the surface.

“What will this cost?” Johnny asked.

“Three dollars, if you have cash. Otherwise, we’ll talk.”

“I can pay.”

“Good. That’s mostly for the sling and the medicine I’m going to give you. It will blunt the pain and help you sleep at night.”

Johnny nodded. The doctor brought him a small glass with a half inch of fluid in the bottom.

“Drink this. It will dull the pain while I treat you.”

“Thanks. It won’t knock me out, will it?”

“Why? You got plans for this afternoon?”

Johnny hesitated. “Well, yeah, actually. I have to meet someone when the train comes in.”

“You’ll be fine. But no punching steers or swinging a lasso for a month or so. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” Johnny tipped up the glass and drained it.

“Do you have to ride horseback to get home?” the doctor asked.

Johnny shook his head and regretted it immediately as the pain launched again in his skull. “Renting a buggy. For the visitor.”

“Good.” The doctor puttered about for a few minutes, measuring some powder into a small vial and making some notes on a card. After a while he came to Johnny’s side and took hold of his injured arm. It didn’t hurt as sharply as it had when he’d mounted Reckless. The medicine must have been taking effect. Johnny stared at the opposite wall, where some kind of certificate hung in a gilt frame.

“I’m going to manipulate it just a little,” Dr. Neale said. “It’ll hurt, but trust me, a lot of people have it worse than you do. Your bone is mostly where it should be.”

“Right,” Johnny said and clenched his teeth.

The pain jolted him and made his stomach drop. He caught his breath and determined not to holler.

“You’re doing fine,” Dr. Neale told him. “I’m going to wrap it for now, since you’ll be traveling, but you can take the bandage off in the morning.”

The doctor wound the bandage snugly around the injured limb, and it did feel better. He buttoned Johnny’s shirt.

“There, all done but adjusting the new sling.” He brought over an item of sturdy black material and eased Johnny’s bent arm into it then fastened the buckle behind his neck. Eyeing the arm critically, he adjusted it until the angle pleased him. “Remember, that’s to keep you from bending it when you shouldn’t. Just let it rest.”

“I’ll try.”

The doctor held up the vial. “Stir a teaspoon of this powder into your coffee or water every evening. Not too much. You can use it during the day if the pain is severe, but willow bark may be enough. Come see me in a week. If you get a high fever or the pain seems much worse, come back sooner. If things are progressing as they ought in a week, I’ll leave you alone for a month.”

“Thanks, Doc. Do you happen to know what time it is?”

The doctor took out a pocket watch and looked at it. “Five minutes to two.”

“Thanks.” Only twenty minutes before the train pulled in.

“You’re all set.” Dr. Neale put the glass vial of medicine in Johnny’s good hand.

“Oh, wait. The money.” Johnny set down the vial and fished the bills from his pocket. “Thanks a lot.”

“Anytime.”

Johnny pocketed the medicine and grabbed his hat. When he reached the street and was able to walk swiftly toward the depot, he knew he felt better. He half expected Cam to be waiting outside the station, but he was nowhere in sight. A few people loitered about the train platform. One or two had luggage with them. Johnny went over to the ticket window. “Train on time today?”

“I expect so.” The ticket agent glanced upward. “Eight more minutes.”

“Thanks.”

He paced the platform and leaned out to stare north down the tracks as far as he could. Nothing. Supposing the train was late? He paced some more. What would he say to Sally? He tried to remember the things she had said in her last brief letter. What did she expect of Mark? He wished he’d had time to get a haircut. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar and under the place where the sling was buckled. Still no train. He looked around him. Three people had formed a line at the ticket window, and there were more folks on the platform. A man in shirtsleeves was stacking luggage on a dolly. Johnny paced some more.

The train’s whistle surprised him. He stood back, a yard from the edge of the platform, and braced himself against the wind of the monster as it lumbered in and ground to a stop. The platform came to life. People hurried toward the passenger cars, and the porter wheeled his luggage-laden dolly down to the baggage car. Johnny held his breath and watched the people who disembarked. What if Sally wasn’t on this train? Every woman who got off received his intense scrutiny. They were all too old, too young, or claimed immediately by family members.

Except one.

Johnny froze when the black-garbed woman turned his way. Wide eyed, she looked a little scared, but determined. Her stark dress proclaimed her a respectable widow, not too prosperous, but decent. The sun glinted on the burnished hair that peeped from beneath her modest black hat.

As he stepped closer, her gaze settled on him. She looked like a little blackbird, all somber from head to foot—except for her face. When he looked into her blue eyes, Johnny forgot all about the mourning clothes. She was pretty enough to stop a locomotive.

S
ally stepped hesitantly toward the tall man with his arm in a sling. He looked so young. Could he really be Mark? She hadn’t expected a beard. But he was the only man within sight not intent on claiming baggage, giving directions, or boarding the train. And he was staring at her.

“Mr. Paynter?” she asked.

“Y–yes.” He stepped forward and after an awkward moment, he held out his left hand. “You must be Mrs. Golding.”

She smiled. So formal. “I believe we had made it to first names in our letters. Shall we go back to Sally and Mark?”

“Fine with me.” But he looked as though the words would choke him. In fact, if asked by a friend, Sally would have said he looked petrified.

His hand enclosed hers. It was rough from hard work, but warm. In fact, everything was warm. The sun beat down on her, and her small veiled hat offered next to no protection. She had forgotten how intense the Texas sun could be. The train hadn’t stopped long enough this morning for her to find a place to change, and she’d had to keep wearing her tired black dress. After three days of travel, she was certain she didn’t look her best.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Mark asked.

“Yes, thank you.” They were both silent for a moment, and then she couldn’t stand it. “Or perhaps I should say, it was not overly unpleasant. I’m sure it could have been worse.”

Mark chuckled then. His whole face changed when he laughed, and Sally suddenly knew she had made the right decision.

“What happened to your arm?” she asked.

He sighed and glanced away and then back to her eyes. “I had a driving accident last night. Smashed up the wagon.”

“Oh my!”

“It’s all right,” he said. “My ranch hand has gone to hire a buggy, so I can drive you out to the ranch.”

“I see.” But she didn’t. Mark had mentioned nothing about a ranch hand in his letters. He had also written that he would have everything prepared for the wedding on her arrival. Best to be direct, Sally decided. “Will we have the ceremony first?”

“Uh, well…” Mark swiveled his head and looked toward the hitching area beside the station. “I thought you might want some time to…to get to know me better before we make things permanent. And then there’s this.” He looked down at his injured arm. “I had to see the doctor, and I didn’t have time.…”

Sally laid a hand gently on his sleeve. “Mark, I’m ready to marry you now.”

“Oh, well, uh…I guess we can, if…” His gaze darted about the front of the depot.

He was watching for someone. The ranch hand, obviously. “I didn’t know you’d hired a man.”

“Oh. I uh, needed some help, and…” He lifted his hat and wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve then put his hat back on, but not before Sally noticed his thick chestnut hair. “Cam’s an old friend. I met him at—well, at another ranch I used to work at. I’m planning to increase the herd soon, and I thought it would be—”

As he talked, his face seemed to wobble and then go hazy. If only it weren’t so hot! Sally’s knees shook, and she knew her body was about to betray her. She reached toward him.

“Mark, I…”

As she fell, his strong arm came around her and supported her.

Johnny did the best he could, but the injury and the sling hindered him from sweeping Sally up into his arms. Luckily, a sturdy bench sat not three yards away. She seemed not to have completely lost consciousness, and he was able to guide her to the bench, supporting her heavily with his good arm.

He sat her down so that she leaned against the wall of the depot and ran back to pick up the small basket she had dropped on the platform. When he returned and sat down beside her, she was patting her face lightly with a handkerchief. Strands of her golden hair stuck to her damp forehead and neck. Her face was flushed, and she avoided his gaze. Johnny wished he could set her at ease, but he didn’t have much experience with fainting women.