Wyoming Wildfire (21 page)

“I believe it was Sibyl’s idea for him to go, but she asked Jenkins to stay. And of course Ned and Balaam are here, so you see we are really quite well protected.”

“I guess that’ll do,” Lasso conceded, but his dissatisfaction was obvious.

Augusta seemed to grow more and more stiffly upright as she realized that concern for
her
was the cause of Lasso’s wanting to instigate these extraordinary precautions.

“Well, I must be off, or no telling what the boys will get up to. Don’t you let that niece of yours make you sit up with Burch day and night. He’s a tough young rascal. Hell pull through no matter what mat doctor does to him.”

He shook Augusta’s hand vigorously, just as though it were the first time he’d met her, and departed in a crescendo of good-byes loud enough to reach anyone as far away as the cattle sheds. Before the staggered woman could recover her senses, he was back again, this time to thrust a large cage into her hands.

“It’s not much, just a cat, but I thought you might like to have something to keep you company.” He didn’t wait for her reply, which was just as well, because Augusta was incapable of one. She stood rooted to the spot, her mind frozen, her eyes unseeing, unable to believe that any of this was happening to her. She looked at the large tabby cat in wonder, and the strangest expression appeared on her face. If
she
had been the cat, one might have accused her of having just swallowed the canary.

Sibyl sat in the shadow of the lamp, her sunken eyes fixed on Burch’s ashen countenance as he moved restlessly about in the dim light. Over the last two days, his condition had grown steadily worse, and she was worried that his rising fever would become critical. For the tenth time in the last hour, she rose to check his pulse, but there was no change. After lingering helplessly by his bed for a time, she went to the window and peered intently into the night, oppressed by the inpenetrable blanket of darkness that surrounded them. The lonely hours moved with maddening slowness, and in the silence Sibyl felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life. It was as though there were no one else in the world except the two of them, and she was powerless to do anything to ease his pain or speed his recovery.

At last the first cold, gray streaks of light pierced the night, bringing the promise of dawn, and Sibyl’s hopes began to rise. Dr. Clay had said he would return today, and she silently prayed it would be soon. She dreaded to touch the hot, dry skin or listen to the groans uttered whenever his feverish tossings caused him to move the leg. It was still terribly swollen and she could not look at it without a cold, clammy fear that the doctor might have to amputate. Not once in the two days had Burch regained consciousness, and she couldn’t get the doctor’s warning of a concussion out of her head; the glazed look in his eyes made her more fearful than ever that he might develop brain fever.

Augusta entered the room soundlessly. She was looking a little worn down herself, but Sibyl had insisted upon taking the night vigil so that her aunt would not have to bear the brunt of Burch’s illness.

“He doesn’t look any better,” Augusta said, pouring fresh water into the basin and beginning to bathe his forehead.

“He’s been growing steadily more feverish all through the night. I wish the doctor would come. I feel so helpless, not knowing what’s happening or what to do for him.”

“You’re doing all you can.”

“But that’s not enough!” she cried. The anguish was so immense, so dreadfully naked, Augusta felt more ineffectual than she had since Sibyl’s mother died. She put her arm about her niece’s shoulders, but Sibyl turned away to hide the tears that were streaming down her face.

It’s so horrid to have to sit here and watch him get worse,” she sobbed. “I feel so
useless.’

“He’s not dying, Sibyl.”

“But he might.”

“No, he won’t. He’s very sick, but that was to be expected. He has a very strong constitution and you’ve taken such good care of him. You should lie down and get some sleep. You’re not looking very well yourself.”

“I can’t. I’ve got to see the doctor.”

“I’ll call you when he comes. If you don’t get some rest, you’ll be sick, and then you’ll be no good to either him or yourself. Do try and be sensible.”

Sibyl swallowed the reproof without cavil.

“You’ll call me as soon as he comes?”

“Of course. Now go stretch out for a bit. I’ll fix us a big breakfast after the doctor leaves, and then you can have a good, long rest.”

Sibyl went to her room, expecting to lie awake waiting for the sound of the doctor’s buggy, but the nervous exhaustion of the past days had been even greater than the physical strain, and she fell into almost instant slumber.

“Sibyl, the doctor is here.” Augusta’s voice barely penetrated the wall of fatigue that made every part of her feel like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Do wake up, Sibyl. I can’t stand here shaking you all morning. Burch is much better.”

Sibyl sat up too quickly and the room spun madly before her eyes. Slowly it stopped turning and the grotesque figure before her eyes dissolved into her aunt’s kindly face.

“His temperature broke right after you went to sleep, and the doctor says he’s out of danger. All he needs now is to be kept quiet until the bone can begin to knit.” The sense of relief was so enormous Sibyl’s brain began to reel once again, and she felt herself falling, tumbling head over heels into an endless void. A heavy black veil descended over her eyes and once again she was sound asleep.

“He actually opened his eyes for a few minutes this afternoon,” Augusta told Sibyl as she ravenously devoured her first food of the day. After the news that Burch was past the crisis, she had slept till mid-afternoon. I had a little extra of the soup I had made for my lunch and I gave it to him. I don’t think he liked it very much, but it will be good for him. The doctor said he was to have clear soups for at least a week.”

It’s a good thing he can’t move, or he’d get up and fix his own dinner,” Sibyl mumbled with her mouth full.

“Not yet. He was glad enough to have me feed it to him.”

“You should have waked me. It’s not fair for you to have all the work to do by yourself?’

“You needed your sleep. After nearly two days and nights in that room, you were ready to fall into a fever yourself. Besides, Ned sat with him for a while this afternoon, and I was able to take a turn about the yard. Lasso came to see Burch and stayed for lunch.”

“Lasso came by?”

“He’s been here every day since Burch was hurt. His concern is wonderful. You’d dunk Burch was his own son.”

“I know Lasso wishes he had something more than those two little girls, but he’s hardly old enough to have a son as old as Burch.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Like an uncle?” offered Sibyl skeptically. Her aunt refused the bait.

“It is very thoughtful of him. He even offered to sleep here so he could be close by in case we needed him.”

“What! I hope you told him we didn’t need two men to look after.”

“I didn’t put it like that, but I did explain that we were perfectly capable of taking care of Burch. I also promised that we would send for him at the first hint of difficulty.”

“Aunt, you’re a sly one.”

“I disapprove of your choice of words, dear, but if you mean that I prefer to use a gentle word instead of the rude ones you favor, men you’re quite right.”

That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Sibyl rebutted promptly, but she was nevertheless taken back by the bluntness of her aunt’s reproof. Augusta was
never
blunt.

An energetic knocking sound at the back door, and Jenkins entered the room, bringing this promising discussion to a halt. His anxious concern ever since the accident had given him a special place in Sibyl’s heart. “I hear tell Mr. Randall’s on the mend,” he said.

“Yes, finally. He’s not going to be able to get out of bed for a long time, but the doctor says his wounds are no longer dangerous and the breaks are starting to heal. However, I expect they’re going to continue to be painful for some time.”

“If I know Mr. Randall, hell be rearing to get up before the week’s out.”

“The doctor left the strictest orders for him to stay in bed for at least a month, so don’t you go putting any ideas into his head,” ordered Sibyl sternly. “If he gets up too soon, he might never be able to use that leg again.”

Then you’ll have to tie him down, because Mr. Randall won’t never stay in bed unless he’s made to.”

“I can make him.”

“How?”

“The doctor left some laudanum,” explained Augusta.

“You’re gonna need a lot, enough to keep him out cold,” Jenkins advised them, his beardless face breaking into a rare smile. ”When he wakes up, you be sure and tell him everything’s taken care of. All he has to worry about is getting himself well again.”

“You still don’t have any idea what might have caused him to fall?” Sibyl asked, reverting to an old, unanswered question.

Tunny you should bring that up, because I came to tell you about something I don’t understand.”

“Something about the accident?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I can’t be sure it means anything. You see, sometimes Mr. Randall would let Old Blue roam free at night so he could graze, and at other times he put hobbles on him. Seems that it depended on how Old Blue was acting that day. When I went to put Blue down, I noticed that he had a rope burn on one fetlock just above the ankle, like a rope had been tied or wrapped about the leg and then been pulled off.”

“It must have been the hobbles.”

“I don’t know, but it was the leg that was busted, and I can’t get it out of my mind that there was a rope on this leg when Mr. Randall mounted him.”

“Do you mean that Burch forgot to remove the hobbles?”

“I don’t know what I mean, because that don’t make any more sense than the rest of it. Mr. Randall was never careless, and nobody’s fool enough to mount a horse what’s got his feet tangled in some rope. Besides, Old Blue was just about the smartest horse we had. He’d never be dumb enough to try and run with hobbles on. That’s not it, but I’m danged if I can tell you what it is. All I know is I keep seeing Old Blue running with a piece of rope tied to his leg and some steer running up on that rope and bringing the both of them down.”

Sibyl’s mouth dropped open. “Do you mean somebody did it intentionally?”

“I don’t know anybody who’d do a rotten thing like that to Mr. Burch, but there’s something here that needs a deal of explaining before I’m satisfied in my mind.” He noticed the frightened look on Augusta’s face and immediately began to apologize. “I didn’t mean to upset anybody, but I thought you ought to know.”

“You were right to tell me,” Sibyl said absently. “Have you told anyone else?”

“No. Just about everybody else’s gone anyway.”

“Then don’t. I’m sure it was an accident. It
must
have been.”

Chapter 15

“Be careful,” Sibyl cautioned as Ned and Balaam helped Burch down the steps. “If you let him hurt that leg again, you’ll have to sit up with him.” Over the last few days Burch had become increasingly impatient with his confinement, so when Sibyl found him out of bed trying to hop about on his one good leg and using his broken arm as a brace, there was nothing for her to do but agree to bring him downstairs.

“But you must promise to remain in your chair,” Augusta admonished firmly. “You know what the doctor has said about keeping your leg still.”

“Damn the doctor,” cursed Burch, too annoyed to consider Augusta’s sensibilities. If you don’t let me out of this room, HI
slide
down the banister and there’s no end to the terrible things I’ll do to myself then.”

“Just like every other man—stubborn, pigheaded, and never willing to be the least bit cooperative,” Sibyl complained with a reluctant grin, resisting the impulse to extract a promise from him to obey Augusta implicitly. She knew Burch would have agreed to any condition to get out of mat room, but he had to know that a second injury to his leg could make him a cripple for life. So, much against her will, she had summoned Ned and Balaam to carry Burch downstairs.

“I refuse to be hauled about like a useless cripple,” he said morosely, which would have been easier on everyone. Instead they were forced to struggle with his splints on the stairs, trying to stay out of each other’s way and not lose their hold on an invalid who was doing absolutely nothing to cooperate—that is, unless you consider a stream of pungent curses being useful. If it hadn’t been so serious and so exasperating, Sibyl would have laughed, but she held her tongue until Burch was seated in his favorite chair with his leg up on a stool and his broken arm resting on his chest.

In some ways it was a relief to have Burch leave his room. As long as he lay in bed he refused to wear a shirt, and the uninterrupted viewing of his powerful torso caused unruly sensations to keep up a steady assault on her nervous system. Sibyl’s sense of his physical presence had weakened when he was so ill, but with his returning health her sensitivity had doubled and the memory of the incredible pleasure that magnificent body had given her had grown more poignant. Whenever she thought he might the, the remembrance of that afternoon in the line cabin caused her to redouble her vigilance. She would love him if he were never able to leave his bed again, but as long as she could look upon that virile body, feel its magnetism, she could never entirely forget its prowess.