by Joyce Armor
She laughed. “They did have seven children. Maybe we will too.”
He looked horrified for a second until he remembered how those children would be created, and then he smiled. “It will be my pleasure to help you achieve all your goals in life.”
She chuckled. “I can always count on you.”
With that they began another round of sexual play. She noticed he was overly gentle at first, but then his body overruled his mind and they were thrashing around as usual. With the added joy of a child on the way binding them even closer together, it was one of the most satisfying lovemaking sessions they had ever enjoyed.
Only two days later, Bridget had to lecture Karl on his overprotectiveness. He was already driving her crazy. Yes, she would be careful everywhere she went. Yes, she was getting enough sleep. Yes, she would rest during the day. No, she would not go anywhere alone. No, she would not overwork herself. Yes, she was about to strangle her husband. He finally had to concede he may be behaving a tad overly cautious. Truly, it was wonderful that he cared for her so much, but she was a grown woman with a good head on her shoulders, and she was going to have to smack him a good one if he didn’t calm down.
She knew she shouldn’t go anywhere alone and convinced herself that taking the dog meant she wasn’t alone. She just needed some space. Bridget and Buddy had walked a couple of miles, first on the old Indian trail and then off the path into the forest as she gathered herbs. She had found arnica, helpful in fighting inflammation; and elderberry, which aided with pain and infections and seemed to provide relief with respiratory ailments as well. She was also pleased to add to her bag verbena, a throat and respiratory-tract infection treatment; and ginger, which alleviated nausea, hoping she wouldn’t be needing any of that soon.
Buddy had a wonderful time weaving in and out of the bushes and trees, pouncing on bugs and scaring one snake away as Bridget searched for her herbal remedies. They had been at it for a couple of hours, and she stopped to drink from her canteen and pour some water in a little cup for the dog. He was lapping the water up when his ears suddenly rose on alert. She grabbed his rope collar to keep him from running off as she followed the direction of his alert.
“What is it, boy?” she whispered.
He was struggling to get loose from her hold, but she held firm, her heart pounding. Her mind went through the possibilities—Pike? Indians? A bear? A wild boar? None of those appealed. Though she wanted to turn and run as fast as she could back to the cabin, she needed to know what she and the others might be facing if it was Pike or hostile Indians. She couldn’t let Buddy give their position away either. She thought about that for a moment before pulling the long drawstring from her bag of herbs. Thankfully, it was several feet long. She used her pocketknife to cut a length she could use to muzzle Buddy and anchored him to a small tree with the rest of the thin rope. She didn’t believe it would hold for long if he struggled, but she didn’t need much time.
After patting his head and urging the pup to stay, she crept through the forest in the direction he was still staring. She had only gone a few hundred yards before she heard distant voices. Creeping more slowly and even more carefully, she realized the sounds were coming from a gully off to her left. When she got near the edge of the ravine, she belly crawled—thankful she was wearing breeches—until she could see who was there. She was too far off to recognize Pike, but she had no doubt he was one of the men. What horrified her was that there were so many of them. She quickly counted 15 men, then edged back until she was far enough away from the ravine to stand and swiftly return to Buddy.
She kept him muzzled, untying him and leading him away by the heavy drawstring, snatching up her bag of herbs as she passed it. When they reached the Indian path, she took the muzzle off the dog, let him off the string and started running toward the cabin. Buddy was excited with the game and ran after her, quickly passing her as if she were standing still. He didn’t get too far ahead, however, turning his head periodically and trotting back toward her. They were about halfway back to the cabin when she heard a wagon and bolted into the woods and behind a tree. Buddy followed, jumping on her to participate in this latest game.
Peering from behind her tree, Bridget sighed in relief as she saw Karl and Marty, returning from a supply run to Vale. When she burst out of the woods, both Karl and Marty drew their guns.
“Jesus, Bridget, you want to get killed?”
“I’m sorry. We’ve got trouble.”
He helped her onto the wagon seat and put Buddy in the back. As they speeded on to the cabin, Bridget explained what she had seen. They were undoubtedly in for an attack. When they reached the ranch house, Karl headed off to warn Gus, and Marty unloaded the wagon and took care of the horses. Bridget tracked down Per and they began gathering all the weapons in the two domiciles as well as the barn, making sure they were all loaded, and piling the spare ammunition on the dining table.
They barricaded the back door with a heavy washstand and gathered bandages and scissors. Bridget retrieved her medical bag and added her newly found herbs to it. Then they checked food supplies and brought up several items from the root cellar. They also went to the well numerous times to fill two barrels with water. They didn’t know if the battle would last minutes, hours or days. They were badly outnumbered and had to be clever. That’s when the cousins began thinking of traps.
They didn’t have time to dig a tiger pit or find a tiger to put in it, but they put on kettles to boil and gathered a number of baseball-sized rocks. They also found Gus’s slingshot, one of his boyhood mementoes, and accumulated a massive pile of large pebbles for that. By this time Henry was fussing, so Per went off to tend to him. While she was gone, Bridget pondered over what else they could do to defend themselves and counterattack.
Chuckling, she decided to create another pot of gooey, smelly things to drop on the attackers. She started with honey for gooeyness and added chopped-up hard-boiled eggs and raw onions. After that, she searched through the garbage out back until she found the beef that had spoiled and added that to the mix, stirring it thoroughly. She reheated the fish that was nearing the end of its tastiness, and fish never tasted good reheated. She couldn’t resist adding Karl’s prized limburger cheese, which nearly made her gag. Then she popped some popcorn as a snack for everyone, reserving some extra back to thoroughly burn, another smell she loathed. Into the pot it went.
For good measure, she added sour cider to liquefy the concoction and stirred it up. Just then Per walked in, carrying Henry, who grinned when he saw his aunt.
“Henry, how handsome you look.” She tickled his tummy, and he giggled.
“Ewww. What is that?”
“Just my little brew to throw on our attackers’ heads.”
“Perfect,” Per grinned, and then she had a thought. “I wonder if we have time to stretch a thin wire across the path. It might trip up at least the lead riders, depending on how fast they’re coming.
“Do we have enough wire?”
“I think Jeff just bought some in Vale last week. We always need it for the fencing.”
Bridget headed out. “I’ll get Marty to help me.”
And he did. With Buddy prancing along, they walked out about an eighth of a mile from the home site and secured the wire across the old Indian path. After checking that it would hold, they stepped back to admire their work. The wire was taut and nearly invisible. The farther they walked away from it, the harder it was to see. Fortunately, Karl, Gus and Jeff would be coming from the opposite direction.
The men got back to the ranch house just as Bridget and Marty returned. As Karl dismounted, Buddy jumped into his arms. “Well, somebody’s happy to see me.”
“We all are.” Bridget walked with him as he led his horse to the barn, explaining all the tasks they had completed.
He was more impressed than he could say. Bridget and her cousin were smart, inventive and devious, a perfect combination when facing a siege. They argued over who would hide on the roof to
pour the boiling water and smelly concoction on Pike and his men, as well as hurl the rocks and use the slingshot. Bridget wanted the honor, but Karl would not hear of it.
With everyone now in the house, they continued to argue about it until Gus stepped forward. It’s my house. I’ll do it.”
That settled it.
“You can hide behind the chimney,” Karl said.
“Oh, but if you use a ladder, one of them can follow you up, and if we get rid of the ladder, you could be stuck up there for hours or days.” Bridget looked worry.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Gus said.
He, Karl and Per were smiling. Bridget just looked confused.
“We put a lot of thought into this house,” Per explained. “There’s a trap door in the loft that leads to the roof.”
“We also have a trap door under here.” Gus lifted the large carpet the dining table sat on to reveal it.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about that?” Bridget was impressed but a little hurt that they hadn’t trusted her with their secret.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Per said. “I guess it never came up.”
That made sense.
“We wanted to dig a tunnel under the house and out the back so we could make an escape if Indians attacked, but we just didn’t have the time or manpower. It’s a little room where the women can hide if things get bad, though.”
Karl didn’t need to look at the ladies to know they were glaring daggers. They would never desert their men in a fight unless forced to do so. Gus knew that as well as he did, but it didn’t hurt to float the idea. To change the subject, he began discussing the placement of everyone. Karl and Jeff would take the front, where the astute builders had left small sliding panels near the windows that could open to allow a gun through. Jeff would cover one bedroom and Per would take the other one. Unfortunately, they would have to break windows if they needed to shoot. Bridget dragged a dining chair into the kitchen and would guard that door.
While final preparations were being made inside, the men hurried to the barn and moved the horses and feed, including bales of hay, down to the other side of the creek, where they tethered the horses close enough to drink from the stream and feed on the grasses. They also tied the cow a ways down from the horses, also with access to the creek and grass. When they didn’t hear anyone approaching, they moved the wagon, the saddles, blankets, bridles and anything else they could think of. Then they went back to the house to assume their positions.
It was a do or die situation, and they all knew it.
Chapter 8
They didn’t have long to wait. About 10 minutes later, they heard horses approaching and then equine screams. Not one of them felt good about injuring a horse, but this was war. They shared a look, though no one spoke. Gus and Karl had already taken the pots and the big rocks up to the roof. Gus grabbed his slingshot and the bag of pebbles, as well as his rifle, and climbed up to the loft on his way to his position. He couldn’t have been on the roof more than a minute or two before the shots began.
A barrage of fire hit the house, and Buddy began barking. As the attackers approached, some on horseback and others spreading out around the house, Karl and Marty began firing. Two men went down initially before the outlaws began to dodge and seek cover. As one got closer to the house, Gus poured boiling water on him and he screamed and collapsed, writhing on the ground. That caused all the men to back up and dive for cover. As they were retreating, Gus took the opportunity to throw rocks at them as if he were pitching a baseball. One hit a man in the head, knocking him down. He didn’t get up. The other rocks definitely caused pain, hitting outlaws in the back, shoulders or legs.
That’s when the gunfire started pelting the roof, and Gus threw himself behind the brick chimney. In the house, a window shattered and Marty grunted and fell. As Karl quickly swooped him up and carried him to the kitchen, laying him down on the floor, he grabbed some ammunition from the dining table and headed back to the front. Bridget, keeping her eye on the back door, checked on the fallen ranch hand. He had a red crease on the side of his head where a bullet had torn a path and a couple of cuts on his face caused by the breaking glass. The cuts were bleeding but did not look lethal. The bullet wound was another matter. She knew head injuries were unpredictable.
Still watching the back door as best she could, she quickly washed the wounds, placed her healing salve on each and wrapped a bandage around his head to cover the injury caused by the bullet. The other cuts were minor and didn’t need stitches. The gouge in the side of the head was too wide for stitches. It would need to heal from the inside out, which meant it would need to be kept moist. That would require frequent applications of salve. Dashing into the living area for a pillow and blanket, she made Marty as comfortable as she could before returning to her post. He would have a massive headache when he awoke. If he awoke. She knew there were no guarantees.
Bridget had just settled back into position when she saw a dark figure behind the house. Moving the little panel near the door, she poked her gun out and fired, feeling satisfied when she heard a grunt. Hmmph. Nobody was getting past her, and they better not try to go back to the cabin and do damage there.
The firing kept up sporadically for hours, it seemed. The Burgens and their allies were operating on adrenaline, fortified by coffee and biscuits, which Bridget kept in ample supply. A man who carried a burning torch to set fire to the house was cut down with scalding water, which doused the flame. Sometime later the barn began burning. That was frustrating. The Burgens and Jeff knew they couldn’t do anything about it. They just had to watch helplessly. Gus had come down from the roof when that position became too perilous, but not before dumping Bridget’s kettle of smelly goo on one unlucky attacker, who spewed out swear words even Gus hadn’t heard before. As the barn continued burning, the brothers exchanged a look. All their hard work was going up in flames. Well, not all their hard work.
As dusk approached, they took an inventory. As near as they could tell, they had killed three men and injured several more. At least a couple of them shouldn’t be able to continue the fight. That still left 9 or 10 outlaws. Next they checked their ammunition. It was running low but might last another day if they had the luxury to fire conservatively. Another shot rang out as glass shattered and Per cried out.
Gus sprinted to the bedroom, his heart thumping out of his chest. His wife was on the floor, struggling to sit up.
“Lie back,” he said, gently pushing her down.
Blood was spreading across her upper right arm. When he pulled out his handkerchief and tied it around the wound, she grimaced but did not call out. My fierce warrior.
Bridget entered then with her medical bag. “You cover the window. Let me take care of this. He nodded and kissed Per before approaching his new post.
“Let’s see what we have here.” Bridget carefully untied the handkerchief, which was soaked in blood, and ripped Per’s sleeve so she could study the wound. “This is good.”
“Not from my viewpoint,” Per grunted.
“The bullet went through the fleshy part of your arm. It didn’t hit the bone and passed all the way through, so I won’t have to extract it. I know it hurts like anything, but you’ll recover fast. I’m going to have to clean it, which will hurt, and stitch it up on both sides, which you won’t like either.”
“Well, be about it then, so I can get back to my post.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Per was a trooper, but she would not be making it back to her post any time soon. She passed out as Bridget began stitching up the wound. After she washed the front and back of her cousin’s arm with carbolic acid and completed stitching both sides of her arm, she applied her healing salve and gauze pads, then wrapped the wound with clean bandaging. Then Gus picked up his beloved wife and gently laid her in the bed, covering her up so tenderly it brought tears to Bridget’s eyes.
Although there hadn’t been a shot for more than an hour, the defenders could not let
down their guard, and they were weary. Karl convinced Bridget to take a little nap, arguing the men outside would have to sleep sometime, too. She checked on Marty, who was still unconscious, added more salve to his wound before re-bandaging his head and then trudged to the second bedroom, where she lay down and fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow.
Out in the main room, Karl looked at his brother and Jeff and sighed. “It doesn’t look good, boys.”
Gus ran a hand down his face. “I know.”
“Do you think we could find a way to get the women out?”
Gus shook his head. “They’ve got someone posted out back and out beyond the bedroom windows. We should have finished the tunnel. Actually, we should have started it, and then finished it.”
“If worse comes to worse?” Karl almost whispered what they were all thinking.
“We could try to force the ladies into the trap-door hideout. Maybe they wouldn’t be found.”
Gus chuckled. “We’d have to knock them out.”
“I can’t bear to think what those men would do…” Karl couldn’t even finish the sentence, the thought was so torturous.
“Until it’s light, I think we can post one person out front and one in the back. The ladies will hear if anyone tries to come in the bedrooms.”
“Why don’t you go lie down with your wife? I’ll take the front and Jeff can take the back.”
Gus nodded. “I’ll relieve you in a couple of hours. If I don’t wake up, come get me.”
Karl nodded.
“I mean it.”
“I will, don’t worry.”
Gus laughed. “Yeah. What’s to worry about?”
Karl grinned. It was either that or cry. They all had worked so hard to carve out a life that by all accounts was happy and fulfilling. And then this piece of crap outlaw came along to try and ruin everything.
In that moment, looking into the black inkiness, knowing everything was on the line, Karl realized he was happy. Bridget had brought him back from the brink of despair. He was a whole man, fulfilled beyond belief by his beautiful, caring, supportive, gutsy wife and able to use his mind and body to work and build the ranch. He felt privileged to labor alongside his brother and a closeness to the land he had never experienced in Baltimore. If this was to be his last day on earth, he could die knowing he had felt a bone-deep contentment most men never experienced.
