To Have and to Hold (Cactus Creek Cowboys) (9 page)

“I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen. I’ve had to learn to do everything for myself. Besides, this is my part of the country. If I were back in Spencer’s Clearing, you’d be the one telling me how to do everything.”

Naomi doubted that was true. He probably could darn socks, repair a tear, and sew on a button faster than she could. She doubted he could crochet, knit, or spin cotton into thread, but she wasn’t very good at those herself.

“You must have other duties,” she said. “I can take care of everything now.”

“Are you trying to run me off?”

“I don’t want to monopolize all your time,” she said from between teeth that were perilously close to being clenched, “but there are twelve other families.”

“Nobody’s doing anything besides filling the water containers and getting ready to eat. Besides, your father promised me you’d feed me breakfast.”

Naomi swallowed her pique. “I’m sorry I’m in such a bad mood. I’m never my best in the morning, but it’s particularly bad when I’ve had a nightmare and didn’t get much sleep.”

“Does it happen often?” The caring in his voice made her feel even more like a selfish ingrate.

“More and more recently. Seeing my grandfather was a shock. If he weren’t already dead, I’d be afraid it meant something awful.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell Colby about the man in a Union Army uniform who was also part of her dream. If he thought she’d killed a soldier, wouldn’t he be honor bound to tell somebody in the army, a sheriff, a marshal,
anybody
who could bring her to justice? No man of character could overlook a murder.

“I know this doesn’t sound very helpful, but try not to think about it. If there is any meaning behind the dream, you’ll figure it out. Maybe something happened that was so terrible you repressed it. That happened to some of the men during the war, especially the ones who’d led a conventional life and had no way to cope with the carnage they witnessed. Maybe it’s just one of the weird dreams we all have sometimes.”

“What are you, some kind of head doctor?”

“No, but during the war I saw men do things I would never have believed if I hadn’t seen them. Maybe it’s a manifestation of your fear of coming west.”

“I’m not afraid of coming west. I just didn’t want to. There’s no desirable place to live and bring up a family.”

“So you hope to marry?”

That was a strange question. Every woman hoped to marry. Life as a single woman meant you were a widow or a maiden aunt, both of whom ended up being a burden on her family.

“Of course, but I won’t marry just anybody. He’ll have to be a man of character and honesty, kind and thoughtful yet strong enough to support his family. Brave enough to face hardship, trustworthy enough to be a man other men respect.”

“Rather high standards, aren’t they?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you know anyone other than your father who possesses all those qualities?”

She came very close to saying
you
, but she managed to withhold the word at the last moment. Instead she avoided the question. “I’m sure there are such men, even in this godforsaken part of the world.”

He laughed, and she wondered why that always made her feel like it was because he knew something she didn’t.

“Aren’t you afraid a godforsaken world will produce only men who have forsaken God?”

She sighed in exasperation. “Here, your breakfast is ready. Now I want some of that wonderful coffee. I need to know my competition.”

When he laughed this time, she laughed, too.

***

“I never knew there were so many rattlesnakes in the whole world,” Naomi exclaimed. “How does anybody live out here?”

They had passed through the hills that surrounded the Middle Springs of the Cimarron, an area known for its abundance of rattlesnakes and tarantulas. During one hour, Colby shot two snakes, one directly in front of Shadow and one about to slither between the hooves of Naomi’s mount. “No one lives here except the Indians. But we’re out of the worst area now. This is a good place to camp.”

A barrier of tangled brush surrounded the springs, but low riverbanks offered easy access to the Cimarron and its steady flow of clear water. A nearly flat flood plain covered in thick grass reaching for nearly a hundred yards out into the prairie afforded abundant graze.

“Time to tell everyone to circle up for the night.”

Naomi was riding her father’s horse until Ethan’s leg recovered enough for him to ride again—or until he got tired of driving Cassie’s wagon, which didn’t seem likely at this point. Making sure the wagons were properly circled each night wasn’t difficult, but assigning that duty to her was an indication of Colby’s growing respect. She rode outside the circle making sure the rear right wheel of the first wagon was up against the front left wheel of the next wagon until a near circle was formed leaving only an opening for livestock to pass in and out.

While Colby oversaw the unhitching of the teams and putting them out to graze, Naomi went about warning everyone to make sure there were no snakes or spiders near their wagons before they went to sleep.

“I’m not afraid of any old snake,” Ben insisted, but after she left to warn Sibyl, she could hear Ben beating the grass around their wagon.

“I always sleep in my wagon,” Sibyl told her. “I’ll make sure Elaine doesn’t set foot on the ground until we’re well clear of this horrible place.” Sibyl’s two-year-old daughter was perched on the seat next to her mother. She rarely spoke, but her enormous brown eyes took in everything around her. Naomi often wondered what went through that child’s mind.

Norman’s brother, Noah, and his wife owned the next two wagons. Naomi was sure Laurie would be safe. Noah never let her out of his sight. It was harder for the families that had children. After having been confined to the wagons all day, the younger children were bursting with energy.

“I couldn’t keep my boys in a wagon a minute longer without tying them up,” Paul Hill’s wife told Naomi. “I just hope they don’t go looking for snakes. I can’t make them understand how dangerous they are.”

“Colby says as long as they stay near the wagons, they should be okay.”

When Naomi reached Haskel Sumner’s wagon, Pearl was fixing dinner.

“Where are the girls?” Naomi asked.

“Gone to the spring for water.”

“Colby said we should get water from the river. He said snakes sometimes—”

A scream brought activity in the camp to a standstill. Pearl’s face went white. She dropped the bowl in her hands and headed toward the spring at a run.

Naomi was the first to reach the three girls running from the spring. “What happened?”

“A snake bit Opal on the cheek,” the oldest girl answered. “She was bending over to dip her bucket in the spring when it came out of the grass.”

The moment Pearl saw the fang marks in her seven-year-old daughter’s cheek, she wrapped her arms around the girl and broke out into loud wails. “She’s going to die!”

By now people were running from all directions. All asked the same question that was answered by Pearl’s repeated lament that her daughter’s death was inevitable.

Haskel Sumner pushed through the gathering. The implications of the scene hit him with numbing force. Drawing his two remaining daughters into his arms, he looked into the crowd. “Where’s the doctor?”

As though conjured by the question, Naomi’s father forced his way through the crowd.

“What happened?” he asked.

Pearl was too hysterical to be coherent.

“A snake bit Opal on the cheek,” Naomi said.

“What kind of snake?” her father asked the child.

“It had to be a rattlesnake,” someone said. “Haven’t seen anything else all day.”

“You’ve got to do something for her,” Haskel said to the doctor. “You’ve got to save her.”

“I’ll have to incise the wound and hope we can suck the poison out,” the doctor said.

Naomi’s heart sank. That meant deep and painful cuts in the child’s cheek. She didn’t know if Pearl or Haskel would be able to endure their daughter’s screams.

“A child’s cheek is very thin,” the doctor said. “The incision may cut all the way through her cheek. If that happens, she’ll bleed into her mouth and the scar will be more pronounced.”

“Will it be a terrible scar?” Pearl asked. “She has such pretty white skin. That’s why I named her Opal.”

“Do what you have to do,” Haskel said.

“Let me through.”

Those gathered around moved to allow Colby to enter the circle. He had a pair of saddlebags over his shoulder.

“Who got bitten?”

“Opal, on the cheek,” Naomi told him. “Papa is about to incise the wound and try to suck the poison out.”

Colby walked to where Opal was nearly enveloped by her mother’s embrace. “Can I see the wound?”

“The doctor’s already told us what he’s going to do.”

“Your daughter is much too beautiful to go through life with a badly scarred cheek,” Colby told Pearl.

“It’s better than being dead,” her father shouted in his misery. “The doctor is going to try to save her.”

Colby had been chewing something. Now he took out of his mouth what looked like a blob of chewed grass. He turned to the doctor. “I want you to let me do something different.”

“What?” he asked.

“Make a plantain poultice to draw out the poison.”

“I’ve heard of that, but I’ve never seen it done.”

“It’s a method the Indians have been using for centuries.”

Haskel bridled. “I won’t have you using any savage rite on my daughter.”

Ignoring the child’s father, Colby placed the poultice on Opal’s cheek. He pulled some wide leaves from a nearby plant and placed them over the poultice. “I need someone to hold this against her cheek.”

Her sister Amber volunteered.

Pearl was undecided. “He’s the one who has spent his life out here,” the doctor said. “He ought to be able to help her better than I can.”

The doctor’s words didn’t reassure the distraught parents.

“What if that poultice doesn’t draw out all the poison?” Pearl asked.

“There’s no assurance that incising the wound will get all the poison,” the doctor responded.

“I have one other thing I want to do to make sure she has no ill effects from the venom,” Colby told Haskel.

“Is it another Indian trick? I won’t have any more of those.”

“No. Does anyone have any whiskey?”

A couple of men turned and ran to their wagons. One of them was Morley Sumner, Opal’s uncle.

“I’m not going to let you treat my daughter if you’re going to get drunk,” Haskel said.

“It’s not for me. It’s for Opal.”

“Not a single drop of the devil’s brew will cross my daughter’s lips!” declared Pearl.

“Are you crazy?” Haskel thundered.

“Alcohol can counteract the poison,” Colby said. “I’ve seen it.”

Both parents were firm in their objection.

“Rattlesnake venom enters the body almost immediately,” Colby explained. “Its purpose is to paralyze the snake’s victim quickly so it can eat it. Even if you incise the wound immediately, you won’t be able to stop all the poison from entering Opal’s body. But alcohol, especially taken on an empty stomach, will enter the body fast enough to counteract the effect of the poison.”

Opal’s parents were still set against it. Even her father was dubious, but Naomi had been around Colby long enough to be certain he wouldn’t do anything that would harm a child.

“Why don’t you try it?” Naomi asked. “The worst that can happen is that she will be drunk.”

“She’s a child,” Haskel said. “It would be a sin to force her to drink until she was drunk.”

“Is it better that she be sober and dead than drunk and well?”

“Why are you supporting him?”

Naomi turned to find Norman Spencer scowling at her.

“I’m not
supporting
anybody,” she told him. “We know nothing about this terrible part of the country, but the Indians have lived here for I don’t know how long with the snakes and spiders. If anybody knows how to cure a snakebite, they would. The same goes for men like Colby. If they say whiskey works, I say we ought to try it. Some of us may consider it an evil drink, but it’s not poison.”

Morley Sumner muscled his way through the crowd and handed Colby an earthenware jar. “I was keeping this to use in case I caught the ague.”

Pearl turned anguished eyes to her brother-in-law. “I thought you loved our girls. How can you do this?”

“I know you hate whiskey but Opal won’t get a taste for it this one time. We can’t take a chance that this might be the one thing that would make the difference.” When Pearl couldn’t bring herself to agree, he turned to his brother. “You’ve got to take every possible chance,” he said to Haskel.

Seeing Haskel waver, Colby didn’t wait. “Let me have her,” he said to Pearl.

Pearl didn’t want to let go of Opal, but Haskel took his daughter from his wife. “I’m as scared as you are,” he said to her, “but we’ve got to try anything that might work. Let me have the jug,” he said to Colby. “I’ll be the one to give her the whiskey.”

“She’s going to choke on it,” Colby warned. “She’ll probably spit half of it up, but keep pouring it down her throat. When she gets drunk, you’ll know the whiskey has destroyed the venom.”

Haskel tried to coax Opal to open her mouth, but the child was too frightened to respond. Amber’s hand holding the poultice shook so badly Naomi expected she’d lose it.

“Maybe I can help,” Naomi volunteered.

“How?” Haskel looked doubtful yet hopeful.

“I will hold her.”

“She’s my daughter. I ought to hold her,” Pearl objected.

“You’re distraught,” Dr. Kessling said. “You’ll upset her more.”

Haskel handed his daughter to Naomi.

“Don’t be frightened,” Naomi crooned to the little girl. “We’re going to make sure this doesn’t make you sick. You don’t want to be sick, do you?”

Opal’s eyes grew wide, but she didn’t answer.

“Your father is going to give you some medicine. Whenever my father gives me medicine, it doesn’t taste good but it makes me better. Do you think you can take a big swallow?”

Opal’s gaze searched for and found her father.

“That’s a brave girl. Now open your mouth.”

When Opal choked and spat out half of what she’d tried to swallow, Haskel was so badly shaken he dropped the jar. Colby scooped it up before more than a few swallows of the liquid were lost.

“Maybe I’d better do this for you.”

Haskel sagged with relief.

“Are you sure you can hold her still and keep the poultice in place?” Colby whispered to Naomi as he knelt down next to Opal.

“I’ll do my best.”

Colby’s gaze turned steely. “That’s not enough. Are you
sure
you can—”

“Yes,” Naomi hissed. “Can you give her the whiskey without pouring it all over me?”

Colby’s answer was a half smile. “Okay,” he said to Opal. “It’s going to burn a little.”

Taking the child by the chin, he opened her mouth and poured a quantity of whiskey down her throat. Opal coughed, but Colby pressed her mouth closed forcing her to swallow the whiskey.

“Good girl,” he crooned. “It wasn’t as bad as the first time, was it?”

Opal just stared at him. Naomi figured the child was too traumatized to have any idea what she felt.

“One more swallow,” Colby said, “then we’ll take you back to your wagon. Ready?”

Without waiting for a response, Colby opened her mouth, poured some whiskey in, and forced her to swallow it.

Opal didn’t cough so badly this time.

“I’ll carry her,” Colby offered, “if you’ll keep the poultice in place.”

The process of handing her over to Colby while keeping pressure on the poultice was awkward, but they managed.

“Everyone ought to get back to work,” Colby said. “We have meals to prepare, livestock to keep from wandering away or being run off by Indians.”

The women were reluctant to return to their work, but the men hurried away. Everyone could miss a meal, but the loss of the mules and oxen would leave their survival in doubt.

“What are you going to do now?” Haskel asked Colby as they walked toward the family’s wagon.

“As soon as we get her settled, I’m going to give her some more whiskey.”

“She’s had enough,” Pearl insisted.

“I won’t give her too much, but we can’t stop until we can see the whiskey take effect.”

Pearl continued to voice her objections, but Haskel didn’t back her. When Colby asked him to bring his saddlebags, Haskel did it without hesitation.

“Try not to worry about her,” Naomi said to Pearl. “I’m sure Colby knows what he’s doing.”

“How can you know?” Pearl demanded. “Nobody had ever heard of him before that Indian attack.”

“I think the fact that he came to help us rather than stay away and keep himself safe speaks well of his character.”

“I’m not concerned about his character,” Pearl snapped. “I’m worried he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“That’s where we can depend on his character,” Naomi replied. “A man who would risk his own life to save strangers wouldn’t knowingly put a child’s life in danger.”

When they reached the wagon, Colby lowered himself into a sitting position.

“There are some more plantain leaves in my saddlebags,” he said to Pearl. “Crush some so I can make a fresh poultice.”

“How can I do that?” Pearl asked. “I don’t have a mortar and pestle.”

“I do,” Sibyl Spencer said. “I’ll get it.”

“I’d have one, too, if I had three wagons,” Pearl grumbled. “I’ll wager she has a lot of things none of the rest of us has.”

“Where did you find plantain?” Naomi asked Colby. “Why did you know to have it?”

“It’s a common weed,” Colby replied. “I always keep some powdered root with me, but I picked a fresh supply of leaves in case anyone was bitten.”

“When can I find some more?”

“I’ll show you as soon as I’m sure Opal is better.”

The little girl was beginning to appear glassy-eyed, but she wasn’t drunk.

Sibyl returned with the mortar and pestle. “I’ll grind the leaves if you want.”

“I’ll do it,” Pearl said rather ungraciously. “She’s my daughter.”

While Pearl turned her attention to grinding the leaves with such force Naomi feared for the survival of the mortar and pestle, Colby poured some more whiskey down Opal’s throat. The child offered so little resistance Naomi feared she might be sick, but she rested quietly in Colby’s arms, her head leaning against his chest.

“Is this mixed enough?” Pearl asked.

Colby looked at the pulverized leaves. “That’s good. I don’t need to give Opal any more whiskey so why don’t you find something to hold the poultice in place. Amber can’t sit holding it until morning.”

“I’ll stay up all night if necessary,” the teary-eyed girl assured him.

“I know you would, but now we should let your sister sleep. I’ll check on her later.”

“Do you have a place where I can lay her in the wagon?” Colby asked.

While Pearl hurried to prepare a bed for her daughter, Colby explained to Naomi how to make the poultice and put it in place. Once that was done, he secured it with a strip of cloth then handed Opal to her father who had watched Colby with eagle-eyed keenness. “If she gets restless, send someone to find me.”

“Where will you be?”

“I don’t know, but I won’t be far. I’ll hear if you call.”

Haskel looked down at his daughter. “Are you sure she’s going to be okay?”

“There’s no swelling, and the skin around the punctures hasn’t turned black.” He handed a plantain leaf to Amber. “I want you and your sisters to know what this looks like. When you think you’ve found some, come show them to me.”

“Am I going to be bitten by a snake?”

“I hope not, but it’s best to always have a remedy on hand.”

“Thank you for what you’ve done,” Haskel said. “I don’t know what I would have done if we’d lost our little girl.”

“All you need to do now is watch her. I’d better get back to my job.”

“Are you as sure of what you did as you seem?” Dr. Kessling asked Colby once they were out of earshot. “I’ve never heard of treating a snakebite with whiskey.”

“I’ve seen it work, and the Indians have used plantain leaves for ages.”

“Maybe you should be the doctor.”

Colby laughed. “Not a chance. I know a little about herbs and how to set broken bones. Other than that, I’m as ignorant as anyone else.”

Dr. Kessling shook his head. “Not sure I agree, but I’d better go check on Wilma Hill.”

“Will she have trouble with the baby?” Colby asked Naomi after her father left.

“Not that I know of, but she’s upset and angry.”

“Several families are. Why?”

Naomi had hoped Colby wouldn’t ask this question, but it had been inevitable that he would.