Whispers on the Wind (15 page)

Don’t let them die,
he prayed silently.

There was a sea of people
between Carter and the stage, and everyone was shouting and pushing
as they surged toward the back of the theater. Every one of them
was in his way.

“They’re dead!” someone in
the crowd shouted.

Carter’s panic
soared.

One woman screamed as she
was pushed to the floor in the panic to escape. “Calm down,” Carter
shouted, “so no one gets hurt.”

He had to get to the stage.
“Rick. You try to find out where the shots came from if you can get
through this damn mob. I’m going to make my way toward the
stage.”

“God Almighty, I can’t
believe this happened,” Rick yelled, trying to be heard above the
crowd. “You don’t think ... ?”

“I don’t know,” Carter
snapped as he shoved his way down the aisle and into the sea of
people. “Make way, I’m coming through.” He felt like a fish
swimming upstream. “Settle down, folks,” he said as he pushed his
way through the crowd. “Everyone will get out safely if you remain
calm.”

It seemed like an eternity
passed before Carter finally reached the far end of the stage and
climbed up the steps. To his surprise, he found Mary sitting up.
Carter breathed a great sigh of relief. Thank God, she was alive.
He whispered a silent prayer of thanks as he rushed to
her.

“Someone tried to kill
me,” Mary said, a little dazed. “I think it was the man in the
green coat.”

Carter noted the blood on
her sleeve. “Are you hit anywhere else?” He looked her over,
frantic that he’d let someone else he cared for be hurt. “I’m sorry
I let this happen to you.”

“I don’t think I’ve been
hit anywhere else,” Mary said. “Carter, there wasn’t anything you
could have done to prevent the shooting. You were not on duty.”
Mary looked toward Judith and gasped. “Y- your mother.”

Fear gripped Carter around
the throat as he turned toward his mother. How could he have
forgotten her? He leaned over her.

He’d already lost his
father and his sister; God couldn’t take his mother, too. Carter
felt for a pulse and prayed that he’d find one as his gaze quickly
swept her body. He didn’t see any blood, but he knew two shots had
been fired.

Thank God, her pulse was
strong. So why was she on the floor? “I don’t see any wounds,” he
said, puzzled. “Maybe she fainted from the noise. But that doesn’t
sound like something my mother would do.”

Mary placed her hand on
Judith’s forehead. “My God, she’s burning up with fever. I asked
her earlier if she felt bad, but of course she denied that she did.
She must be sick.”

A man dressed in a black
suit climbed the steps up to the stage. “Can I be of help, Carter?”
he asked as he slipped on his spectacles.

“Doc Moore. It’s my
mother.”

“Don’t know what this town
is coming to,” Doc Moore fussed as he stooped down to examine
Judith. “Shooting in the opera house. In all my born days, I’ve
never heard of such a thing.” He pulled up Judith’s eyelids and
looked into her eyes. He searched over her body with his hands. “No
wounds.” Then he felt her forehead. “Yep, that’s it”

“What Doc?”

“I suspect your ma has
finally gotten herself a first-class case of influenza. Bit
surprised she hasn’t been retching.” Moore straightened. “And this
young woman might need a bullet taken out of her arm, or if nothing
else, to have it bandaged. Get both of them to my office so I can
work on them with the proper equipment”

Carter helped Mary stand.
Just the sight of the bloody sleeve made his jaw tighten. He wanted
to find the bastard who would dare shoot a woman. And he railed
against himself. How could he have been so careless to let his
guard down? For one night, Carter had just wanted to be an ordinary
citizen, so he’d left his gun in the buggy. He hadn’t even bothered
to scan the crowd as he would usually have done because he’d grown
up with these people. Why hadn’t he looked for
strangers?

He noticed that Mary’s face
looked pasty and pale. If she fainted on him now, he’d have one
hell of a mess. Doc Moore was too old to carry anyone. “Can you
walk by yourself?"

Mary held her arm, which
blessedly had gone numb for the moment, tightly against her chest
She knew the numbness would disappear later and she’d feel it like
the devil, but for now she was all right “I think I can
manage.”

Carter removed a
handkerchief from his breast pocket, wrapped it around her arm just
above the wound, then tied it tight That should slow the bleeding
until Doc can look at it”

Mary waited for Carter to
lift his mother into his arms and then Mary followed him out of the
theater. Thankfully, the crowd had cleared inside, but most of them
milled around outside, waiting to find out what had happened.
Carter didn’t take the time to tell them anything as he hurried
past everyone to the doctor’s office, two doors down from the opera
house.

Mary felt dazed and a
little confused. Everything had happened so quickly. Had somebody
tried to kill her? Why? Could it have been the man in the plaid
coat? And the big question was, would he try again? It now became a
necessity for her to remember the man before he tried the next
time.

Doc Moore unlocked his
office door and held it open so Carter could go through. Carter
turned to get his mother through the door, then looked back to make
sure Mary was right behind him.

“Carter, why are you
carrying me?”Judith’s groggy voice broke through the silence as
they entered an examining room.

Relieved to hear her voice,
Carter glanced down at her. “Because you didn’t seem to be able to
stand on your own two feet And dragging you out of the theater was
out of the question,” he teased.

“That’s ridiculous. I was
just a little dizzy, that’s all. I heard some loud noises which
sounded like gunfire, and then I simply fainted. I must have been
too excited.”

“Enough, Judith,” Doc
Moore said in a very firm voice. He turned to Mary. “Sit up here.”
He patted a table. “I’ll be with you in a moment” Then he turned
his attention back to Judith. “I’m going to give you something for
that fever of yours, and then I want you to be quiet and lie on the
table while I look at the girl’s arm.”

“You’re so bossy,” Judith
stated in a very weak voice. “I’ll be just fine. Nothing a little
rest won’t cure. And what is wrong with Mary?”

Carter helped his mother
seat herself on the table. “She was shot.”

“Shot?”

Doc Moore shoved a spoonful
of medicine at Judith. “Here, swallow this. It will help you
sleep.”

“But—” She shook her head
and tried to push the spoon away. “I don’t want to sleep. Who shot
Mary?” She turned toward Mary. “How are you, dear?”

Doc Moore frowned. “Do as
you’re told, woman.” He shoved the spoonful of medicine into
Judith’s mouth when she opened it to protest “There is more than
one way to get something in you,” he said, smiling.

A commotion sounded in the
outer office, and then Rick and another man rushed through the
door. Rick glanced at Mary, and the older man strode over to
Judith. “What have they done to you?” the older man
said.

Doc Moore swung around to
the intruders. “Well, Hank O’Tool, you finally done and gave Judith
the grippe.”

Hank frowned at the doctor.
“She wasn’t shot?” Doc Moore looked over his glasses. “Nope. Were
you not listening? She’s got the grippe.”

“I warned her to stay
away, but you know how hardheaded she can be.” Hank looked down at
Judith. “Do you feel poorly?”

“I do not appreciate you
calling me hardheaded, but I will admit that I’ve felt better,”
Judith said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Should you be out
of bed so soon?”

“Just like you”—Hank
smiled as he took her hand—“to worry about others. I hope to get
back to work by the end of the week.”

Judith yawned. “I’m so
drowsy. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open,” she mumbled, then
twisted around to try and see what was happening with Mary. “Are
you all right, child?”

“I’ll be fine, Judith. You
should get some rest,” Mary told her as Judith’s eyes drifted shut.
Hank held Judith’s hand and Mary could see the affection that he
felt for her. But she’d also heard Hank say that he would return to
work soon. Did that mean that Carter would be leaving, as
well?

Mary looked around. She
noticed that the doctor’s office was very neat and clean. A cabinet
with a glass front held most of his instruments. Two shelves in the
comer held bottles of various shapes and colors; she assumed that
was where he kept his medicine.

“Let me see what we have
here,” the doctor said, placing a pan of hot water on the table
next to her.

Mary winced as he touched
the wound and felt down in the hole. He wasn’t very
gently.

“I think the bullet went
straight through,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “You
were lucky.”

“I was very lucky,” Mary
agreed.

“Well, I’m going to have
to cleanse the wound, bullet or no. And it’s going to need a few
stitches.” He poured a brown liquid over the wound as he spoke.
Mary cried out and tried to jerk her arm away, but the doctor had a
tight grip for an old man.

Her arm felt like it was on
fire. She breathed rapidly and gritted her teeth as she tried not
to cry. She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, but she
fought them because she didn’t want to embarrass herself by
behaving like some silly, weak female.

Finally the sting eased,
and Mary saw that Doc Moore was threading a needle—a very big
needle, she thought. Panic set in. Her desperate gaze darted toward
Carter, and she tried to say, “I—I—”

“Do we have any whisky?”
Carter asked Moore.

“Nope, just used the last
on her wound. If we can get her to hold still, it will only take a
minute. I’m afraid I’m fresh out of ether—expecting some in next
week—but it won’t do the girl much good tonight.”

Carter stepped up to the
table where Mary was sitting. “Why don’t you lean on me and hold my
hand,” Carter suggested.

Mary bit her lip and nodded
as she took his hand. It looked so small in Carter’s big hand, but
being near him gave her more strength than she had on her
own.

“This is going to hurt,
little lady, but I promise that I will be as quick as I can,” Doc
Moore told her.

Mary didn’t think that he
sounded sorry at all.

“You’ll have to hold very
still,” the doctor cautioned her.

Mary took a deep breath and
squeezed Carter’s hand as hard as she could. She pressed her head
against his chest while he tightened his other arm around her. The
needle pierced her skin, and she bit down on her lip, hard. She
felt the thread sliding through her skin ever so slowly. Oh God, it
hurt. She squeezed Carter harder.

When the doctor took the
second stitch, Mary felt the blackness settling in over her, and
she thankfully left the pain behind.

“She passed out,” Carter
said.

“Good,” Doc Moore replied.
“It will be much easier on her now.” After a few more stitches he
said, "There.” He finished tying off the thread. “Well now, looks
like you are going to have two patients on your hands for the next
few days. I believe Mary will feel better by tomorrow, but your ma
is going to take a week.”

“Maybe more,” Hank added.
“I sent Rick for the buggy and the men. I’ll help you get the women
outside.” Hank scooped Judith up in his arms. “Do you need me to
ride with you to the ranch?”

Carter lifted Mary, her
head resting limply on his shoulder. Thanks, Doc.”

As they left the office,
Carter said to Hank, “You know, I brought some men with me so we
would be safe, but it didn’t help, did it?”

Hank shook his head but
said nothing.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to
see if we can figure out who did this. Do you have any
ideas?”

“Not a one,” Hank
admitted. “I did catch a glimpse of a stranger in a green coat, but
it was only a glimpse. I could have been mistaken.”

“Green coat? Mary said
something about seeing a green coat when I reached her on
stage.”

“Good heavens,” Rick said
as he opened the door to the buggy so Hank could place Judith on
the rear seat. “This isn’t the way I pictured us going home. I
didn’t get a chance to ask before. How is your ma?”

“She has a case of
influenza, but she wasn’t shot,” Carter said as he placed Mary on
the front seat. “Mary was wounded, but it was minor. She passed out
when Doc started stitching her up.” Carter leaned on the buggy.
“What did you find out?”

Rick shrugged. “Actually,
the answers I got were damned strange. A few men said they thought
they had seen a stranger standing in the doorway, but they couldn’t
remember what he looked like. They would start to say, ‘He
looked
like...’
and then they stopped right in the middle of their sentences
and got the most puzzled looks on their faces. It was as if they
knew what he looked like but couldn’t remember, so I basically got
nowhere. Sorry.”