Suddenly a distant sound behind her caught her ears. She drew up her mount and turned, listening. The gelding’s ears began to twitch, then stood straight. He blew through his lips and stared back down the trail. What she had heard was the sound of a running horse, and seconds later Kain’s big red horse rounded a bend in the trail and came toward her at full gallop. Should she run? No. He could catch her easily.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” he shouted while he was at least fifty feet away. “Have you lost your mind? Get back to the wagons! Now!”
She felt herself go hot with anger beneath the stinging command in his voice. His tone and his angry expression raised her hackles. This time she would not “run along” as she’d done the night they were camped by Fort Lyon. Kain reached her and his hand grabbed for the bridle. Before she thought she lashed out with the ends of her reins and hit him on the arm.
“Keep your damn hands off my horse!”
“You brainless little fool! Get back to the wagon. He’s just up ahead. Go back!”
“I know that!” She waved the paper in his face. “Here’s another message from him.”
“There have been messages left along the trail for the past week. He’s goading us to do something foolish and you’re taking the bait.”
“I don’t care. I’m going to meet him and kill him!”
“For God’s sake! That’s the most harebrained idea you’ve had yet. You’re no match for him! He’s a killer and he’s got two men with him. I spotted them and went back to stop the wagons and get the Hookers. Now, goddamn it, go before you get us both killed!”
At that instant, Kain heard the click of metal and saw the flicker of a darker shadow among the thick pines to his right just as he was struck a wicked blow on the shoulder. Searing pain tore through him and he grabbed wildly for the gun in his holster and clutched it with a desperate grip, but couldn’t raise it. Pain stabbed him again and he seemed to tumble forward, over and over, round and round in the velvety darkness. His last thought was of Vanessa. He couldn’t die now. He couldn’t leave her to him.
Chapter Ten
Three shots had been fired in rapid succession. Two struck Kain, the third tore the hat from his head. Vanessa watched him pitch from the saddle to lie facedown beneath his horse’s belly. Through the roaring in her ears she heard another sharp, splitting crack of a rifle coming from slightly behind and to the right of them, then more shots farther away. Her feet hit the ground running. Kain! Nothing mattered but Kain. Desperately she pushed at the big red horse who stood protectively over his master.
“Move! Get away from him!” The animal finally moved and Vanessa threw herself down on top of Kain, shielding his head and shoulders with her body.
“Darling, I’m sorry! Please, please don’t be dead!” Her hand burrowed beneath his body and sought to feel his heartbeat. The pounding of her own heart and the sobs that came from her throat made it impossible for her to find it. In a frenzy to know if he lived, her experienced fingers moved to the base of his throat and detected a pulse. “You’re alive! Oh, thank God! Oh, darling, darling . . .”
It seemed an eternity before there was silence. Vanessa raised her head and looked around. Her shotgun lay on the ground a few feet away where she had thrown it in her haste to get to Kain. Cautiously, she lifted herself off him and made a dash for the gun. With it clasped tightly in her hand, she ran back and hovered over the still figure that lay on the thick bed of pine needles. Her mind refused to think beyond the fact that Kain was still alive and if the bastard that shot him came to finish the job she would kill him.
She heard the sound of a snorting horse and cocked the gun. Crouched over Kain, her finger on the trigger, she waited. To her relief the Hooker brothers came riding toward her from the stand of pines. They reined their horses to a stop and jumped off.
“Is he still out there?” Vanessa’s heart was pounding so hard she could scarcely hear her own voice.
“He’s gone.”
“Gone? You let him go?”
“He ain’t goin’ far. Is Kain shot up bad?”
Jeb gently turned Kain over and held open his coat. His shirt was soaked with blood from wounds in his side and his shoulder above his heart. It took all Vanessa’s willpower to keep from crying out when she saw that his eyes had sunk back into his head and the week’s growth of beard on his face did nothing to hide the hollows in his cheeks.
“Is he alive?” Clay asked.
“Yes, he’s alive.” Vanessa looked up at the men with tear-filled eyes. For the first time she fully realized she had been the cause of this horror. She knew she couldn’t bear it if Kain should die and had to be left behind in a lonely grave. Oh, God! Kain couldn’t die. He couldn’t die!
She had to stop the blood, but she had nothing to stop it with except her shirt. Without hesitation, and unmindful of the two men, she shrugged out of her blanket coat, turned her back, yanked off her shirt, and slipped the coat back on to cover her naked torso.
“Get our wagon up here.” She began to think as her father taught her to think when fighting to save a life. Think of what has to be done, Van. Don’t think of who it is you’re working on. “We’ve got to get the bullets out.” Clay was on his horse by the time she finished speaking. She folded her shirt and held it firmly against the two wounds on Kain’s upper body. “Why did you let Tass get away?” She spoke without looking at Jeb, her voice resentful. “Why didn’t you follow him and kill the dirty backshooter?”
“He was hit bad, ma’am. We put three bullets in him. He was jist ahangin’ in the saddle with the horse runnin’ full out. Me ’n Clay thought to get back, cause we knowed Kain was hurt bad.”
“You’re right, of course. But if Tass lives he’ll be back.”
“He ain’t in no shape to do nothin’. Buzzards’ll have him by mornin’. If’n they don’t, Injuns will. That’s a mess of Cheyenne camped down thar, ’n he was headin’ straight at ’em. They ain’t got no use a’tall fer whites right now, ’n I ’spect no more fer a Mex.”
“I hope they kill him. I hope they kill him an inch at a time.” She looked down at her hands, sticky with Kain’s blood. “I wish they’d hurry. Build a fire, Mr. Hooker. I’ve got medical supplies in the wagon. As soon as it gets here, we’ll heat some water and get these bullets out.”
“We’d best figger on campin’ here, ma’am. I’ll build a fire yonder in that clearin’. It’ll be out of sight like.”
* * *
Guilt was a heavy burden on Vanessa’s heart, but she would not allow herself to think beyond what she had to do to save Kain’s life. Quietly and efficiently she asked that water be heated in two different containers, one she could wash in, the other brought to boiling so she could rinse the instruments she would used to probe the wounds. She had Kain lifted gently into the caravan and placed on her bunk. After that was done the Hookers went out to stand guard and John tended the fire. Henry and Ellie undressed Kain while Vanessa scrubbed her hands, a procedure her father had insisted was essential when treating an open wound. She and Ellie had worked together before, but never had they worked on one who was as beloved to them as the still man who lay in Vanessa’s bunk.
Without having to be told, Henry got out the wooden case containing his late uncle’s surgical instruments. He dipped each one in the boiling water and carefully placed them on a clean cloth. Mary Ben watched him with awe and admiration.
The wound in Kain’s side appeared to be the most serious at first. But to Vanessa’s relief, the bullet had deviated from it’s original direction when it struck his hip bone and went out without passing through any vital organs. The problem was getting all the foreign matter out of the wound. She did that by filling a syringe with clear cold water John brought up from the mountain spring and gently squirting the water into the cavity. She dabbed at the wound with clean lint using the tweezers. When this was done she disinfected the lacerated flesh with Lambert’s listerine and left the closing of the wound to Elli
e.
The bullet that went into Kain’s shoulder above his heart was lodged beneath his shoulder blade. Henry’s strong arms were needed to lift and hold him while Vanessa made a cut through the skin and extracted the bullet with pincers. Kain moaned and jerked when she did it, but she went determinedly ahead with what she had to do. She wet a compress with the listerine, pressed it on the cut, and then Ellie applied a strip of sticking plaster before Henry gently laid him down.
The three worked as quickly as possible. Hardly a word was spoken except to ask Henry to fetch something. When they had finished, Ellie and Henry dressed Kain in a pair of Henry’s long underwear Mary Ben had been warming by the campfire. Vanessa left the caravan and wrapped hot stones to be applied to his feet, between his thighs, to his sides and beneath his armpits.
That Kain would die from shock was what Vanessa feared the most now. Her father had said that during the war many of his patients had died of shock that followed severe bodily injury rather than the injury itself. He had schooled her in what to look for and what to do. Kain had not regained consciousness; that worried her. His skin was cool and his limbs trembled, which were signs of shock. She silently listed the things she could do. She would keep him warm, rub his hands and arms briskly and hold the open bottle of ammonia four to five inches from his nose. What else? Whiskey and honey in hot water. They had the honey Mr. Wisner had given them and there was whiskey in the medicine chest.
Vanessa went back to the caravan. Mary Ben and Henry brought the hot stones to the door. As she and Ellie packed them around Kain’s body, he began to tremble even more.
“Henry! Bring a cup of hot water with some honey in it,” Vanessa called. “Get the ammonia, Aunt Ellie, and hold it under his nose while I rub his arms.”
They worked untiringly, and half hour later warmth returned to Kain’s body. His pulse had been weak and rapid but was strong again. He roused briefly after each whiff of the ammonia and then lay quietly.
“We’ve done all we can do, dear. Now we wait.”
“That’s the hardest part. It’s my fault for riding off like I did. What’s wrong with me, Aunt Ellie? Why am I so headstrong?”
“I think things have been going on that everyone knew about but me. John said it was one of the men who stole our mules that shot Kain. You knew he was following us, didn’t you? Kain knew it, too. That’s the reason he asked his friends to ride along with us. I’m disappointed in you, Vanessa. I thought we were close enough that we could share the bad things that came along as well as the good.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I’m not a child. I have the feeling you acted unwisely, and that you feel responsible for what happened to Kain. Am I right?”
“Yes, you’re right. Later I’ll tell you about Primer Tass, but not now. I think if I say another word I’ll cry my head off. Stay with Kain, Aunt Ellie, while I wash my hands. Then I’ll come sit with him.”
Evening came suddenly. The slow column of the campfire smoke drifted upward and was scattered by the thick branches of the pine trees. There was something so everlastingly normal about a cookfire, about boiling coffee and cooking a meal. Vanessa wondered how many times they had done that since they had left Springfield. Regardless of how tired, frightened or worried they were, a simple fire gave comfort and security.
The Hookers came in one at a time, to eat, talk to John and depart after they went to end of the wagon to inquire about Kain. They were polite, but Vanessa knew the men blamed her for what had happened to Kain. She didn’t blame them. She’d heard their comments. Voices carried in the still mountain air.
“That woman ort a be pure ’n shamed fer what she done,” John said to one of the Hookers. “Kain rode out ever’day lookin’ fer that varmint. He done ever’thin’ he could. All she had to do was stay with the wagons. It’s just plumb bafflin’ why she rode out like she done. He jist had to go chasin’ her ’n put hisself right out fer Tass to aim at.”
“Ain’t no use hashin’ o’er the whys a woman does what she does. He has to think a heap a that woman, him bein’ sick ’n all ’n a ridin’ hisself to death. I saw him pukin’ his head off a day or two back.”
Tears rolled down Vanessa’s cheeks. Her heart contracted painfully as she gazed down at Kain. The light from the kerosene lamp that hung from the ceiling of the caravan played shadow games on his face. He was so pale, so still. John was right. She should be pure and shamed by what she’d done—and she was. Leaning over, she kissed his still lips tenderly.
“Please get well, Kain. Wake up so I can tell you how sorry I am,” she whispered. “I love you so much it hurts, but it’s a hurt that I like. I was afraid Tass would kill you. I was so afraid I was sick. I’d rather have gone off with him than have him hurt you like this.”
Ellie came to the door of the caravan with a plate of food; but Vanessa shook her head and Ellie took it away. The camp settled down after the meal. The fire was allowed to die down, but kept alive to heat the flat stones should Kain need them. He was uppermost in everyone’s mind.
Vanessa sat beside him and held his hand between her two palms, or stroked the back with her fingertips. Suddenly his eyes were open and he was looking at her.
“Tass?”
“You’re awake! How do you feel?”
“Weak. What about Tass?”
“Gone. Don’t worry about him. Oh, Kain! Please don’t go back to sleep until I tell you how sorry I am. I am muleheaded. You’re right about everything you said to me. I’ll never forgive myself for being so foolhardy.”
He grimaced a dismissal of what she was saying. “How bad am I?”
“You were hit in the shoulder and side, but nothing vital was damaged. Unless there are complications, you’ll be all right.”
“Tass . . . Is dead?”
“Jeb said they put three bullets in him and killed the other two. He said Tass rode off, but he didn’t think he’d get far. I’m so sorry, Kain. I’d rather have gone with him than have him hurt you like this.” Tears rolled from her eyes and fell on their clasped hands.
“Hush talking foolish,” he said tiredly. “Get me a cracker. I’ve got to have something to eat so my gut won’t hurt.”
“Can you drink some broth?”
“No. Get me a cracker . . .”
Vanessa hurried out the door. “He’s awake. He wants a cracker. Where are they, Aunt Ellie?”
“Cracker? Landsakes. In the blue tin.”
Vanessa grabbed the tin and vaulted up the steps, swinging the lower half of the door shut behind her. She pried open the lid with shaky fingers, took out a cracker and held it to his lips. He took a bite and chewed slowly, his tawny eyes fastened on her face. She fed him several soda crackers before he spoke again.
“Was my horse hit?”
“No. When you fell he stood over you and I had to push him away.”
“Where’s my coat?”
“It’s here. Your clothes and your guns are here, too. The rest of your things are in John’s wagon.”
“Look in the pocket. I brought a ribbon.”
Vanessa set the cracker tin on the floor and reached for the coat. Her fingers delved into the right pocket and she found the tight coil of ribbon.
“Is this it?”
“It’s for you. I got it back at the fort.”
The blue satin ribbon flowed through her fingers. Vanessa looked at him with tearful eyes and her lips trembled when she spoke. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”
“A red-headed woman should have a blue ribbon. Put it in your hair.”
“Oh, Kain! How can you even be nice to me?”
“I want to see it.” He lifted his arm and a small grunt of pain came from his lips.
“Don’t move this arm,” Vanessa said quickly, and placed his hand gently on his chest. “The bullet that went into your shoulder lodged beneath your shoulder blade. I had to make a hole in your back and take it out.”
“You?”
“Of course. I told
you my father was a doctor. I helped him take out bullets, and later I took out a few by myself with the help of Henry and Aunt Ellie. I’m sorry we don’t have something for the pain. Papa didn’t believe in giving laudanum. He said it was too habit-forming.”
“Put the ribbon in your hair.”
“I’ve had to be careful about letting my hair down,” she confessed nervously. “Aunt Ellie has eyes like a hawk. She would have spotted that bare spot on top of my head right away.” Vanessa tried to smile while her fingers worked at the hairpins. He lay there watching, his great tawny eyes wide open and staring. She unraveled the thick braid, then bent over and raked her hair with her fingers until it hung from the top of her head. She tied it at the crown with the ribbon and when she lifted her head it hung down her back like a flowing mane. “This is the only way I can hide my bald spot,” she said lightly and waited, hoping Kain would smile.
He didn’t—not even slightly. There was a strange quietness about him and he lay staring at her. She didn’t know what to say. He lifted his good arm from the bed and she clasped his hand in both of hers. His fingers squeezed hers then reached upward. She flung her hair over her shoulder and he grasped the strands between his fingers.
“I . . . hated for Tass to have this. I was going to get it back.”
“It’s just hair. It will grow back.”
They looked at each other for a long time. Her eyes were brilliant with unshed tears. Her eyes were what he’d noticed about her the first day he met her in Dodge City. Now they anxiously searched his for a glimmer of forgiveness.
“I don’t know if I can get up. You’ll have to get Henry or the Hookers to help me.”
“You can’t get up. You’ll break the stitches and start bleeding again. If you lose any more blood you’ll go into shock.”
“I can’t stay in your wagon.”
“You certainly will! You don’t realize how close you came to being killed.”
“It doesn’t matter. Call Mrs. Hill. I want to talk to her . . . alone.”
Dorothy Garlock - [Colorado Wind 03] Page 16
