“I’m sorry, Dianne,” Levi whispered against her ear. “I know I’m not the right man for this job, but I care about you. Cole will come back soon, you’ll see. And Bram, well . . . he’s a tough one. If anyone can survive this, he can.”
Dianne cried softly against Levi’s shirt.
Levi began stroking her hair and without warning he placed a kiss upon her head. The act sobered Dianne rather quickly.
Pulling away, she bit her lip and took charge over her ragged emotions. “Thank you, Levi. For everything you’ve done. Bram would have surely died if you hadn’t been there.”
Levi seemed to understand her discomfort. “Well, you let me know if you need anything else. I figured Miz Koko would want to know that bear won’t be botherin’ anyone else.”
Dianne looked at the massive pile of fur and nodded.
Levi began looking uncomfortable and eased back toward the door.
Dianne didn’t want to make Levi feel bad for his actions, so she moved forward and took hold of his arm. “Thank you, Levi Thank you for being here.”
He said nothing, as Dianne expected. The words she knew he wanted to say were completely inappropriate. He was still in love with her. That much was clear.
CHAPTER 10
COLE HAD NEVER BEEN IN SUCH PAIN. THERE WASN’T A place on his body that didn’t hurt. He wasn’t sure why the Sioux had kept him alive, but he knew he wasn’t the only one. There were a handful of them. In his conscious moments he’d seen at least two white women and maybe another man, all members of the small wagon train he’d been helping to lead west.
Fever had overtaken him, yet for some reason Cole didn’t feel afraid. He figured his death was imminent. Either from the infection in his body or by the hand of the Indians. He tried not to even think of what the Indians had planned for him.
Cole knew they were moving north. He’d figured that out by the course of the sun. Lying on a travois and being dragged along, Cole had watched the sun’s passage from left to right, day after day. He had no idea where they were heading or why they were taking him and the others along. Maybe they were heading to Canada, he reasoned, but again his fever-confused mind could not process any reasoning for such a decision on the part of his captors.
An older Sioux woman came to him twice a day and offered him a foul-tasting broth and a bit of pemmican. Cole hardly had strength for chewing, but he forced himself—hoping, praying really, that somehow his efforts would heal his body.
As the days passed, Cole told himself that he was on the mend. His head didn’t hurt quite as much and his arm looked better—at least he thought it did. He tried to ignore the red, swollen, oozing flesh where his chest wounds were infected. The old woman who tended him seemed not to be too concerned with them. She did smooth some kind of greasy substance on them, but Cole had no idea why they would try to heal him if they only planned to turn around and kill him.
After what Cole calculated to be three weeks, the tribe stopped for several days along a fairly wide river. He had no idea where they were, but the river seemed to flow east and west. When they’d been attacked, they’d been in central Wyoming Territory, and Cole hadn’t been all that familiar with the land. Daniel had been taking a different route than Cole had traveled that first time west. But this area was even more of a mystery. There were more trees here, and there were mountains very close to the west. It actually reminded him a bit of home.
It must be Canada, he thought. But again, there was no way to prove or disprove that idea. He tried to observe the scenery and the people without making it obvious. Moaning, he rolled slowly to his left side, hardly able to move for the pain.
God, he prayed, if I’m going to die, just let it come quickly and . . . and . . . let Dianne know that I love her. That I didn’t leave her on purpose.
He gazed across the center of the camp, his eyes hooded with lids heavy from sickness. Three men stood in conference not far from where he lay. The first one seemed overly concerned about something. He gestured and pointed in rapid succession. He made a sweeping motion that ended with all three men staring directly at Cole.
Cole forced himself to remain still. Were they plotting his death? Talking about how to finish him off?
One of the other three began a rapid-fire conversation, apparently countering the older man’s worries. The third man finally put out his hands and touched each of the other men. He spoke softly, inaudibly for Cole. Not that Cole knew much of the Sioux language. Whatever the third man said, however, seemed to satisfy the other two, and together the three of them went off toward one of the other tepees.
The old woman came to tend to Cole’s wounds. She tutted and fussed, speaking without so much as a smile as she applied more grease. She gave Cole the same foul-smelling drink, nearly forcing it down his throat. But this time there was no offer of pemmican. Perhaps their supplies were running low, Cole thought.
The evening came upon them quickly with a brisk cold wind that cut Cole to the bone. He began shivering so hard at one point that he felt like he was banging his head against the ground. To his surprise, one of the three men he’d seen earlier came and placed a buffalo robe over Cole’s aching body. He made signs with his hands, then said in very guttural English, “Sleep now.”
The next morning there was a dusting of snow on the ground, and by evening the skies had grown heavy with leadcolored clouds. The air smelled of snow and woodsmoke. Cole had seen the young women bringing in wood for fires. It looked as if the Sioux were planning to stay for a while.
Again Cole tried to analyze his surroundings. The mountains were no more than a day to the west—maybe less. A man on horseback would have no trouble reaching them, but a man on foot would be harder pressed. And for a man in his condition, it would probably be suicide to even try.
But I have to try.
The events of that evening made it even more necessary to at least attempt escape. Two of the other prisoners died. Cole didn’t know what had brought about their deaths, but they were dragged off to the edge of the camp and mutilated. Cole closed his eyes against the uproar. There seemed to be an anger in the young warriors that demanded attention. The elder Indians remained in control, however. One in particular appeared capable of calming the outrage. It was the same man who’d interceded for Cole.
When it began to snow in earnest that evening, Cole watched as the abandoned bodies were covered in the white blankets provided by God. He wasn’t certain, but he thought one of them was a young man who’d been traveling west to join his Mormon fiancee in Utah.
Cole closed his eyes. How many true loves had been separated by this one act of war by the Sioux? He thought of Dianne again and his heart ached with longing and a need to live at least long enough to see her again.
I have to try to escape. I have to live to see her again.
Where lethargy and sickness had left him incapable of making the decision before, Cole now felt a driving need to get back to his home—to Dianne. He knew he was weak, knew it would take an act of God to get him beyond the well-guarded camp. But seeing those angry braves and watching the mutilation of the dead gave Cole a feeling of urgency. He wasn’t alive by any desire of the warriors. If they had their way, he’d soon be dead, and then there’d be no hope of seeing Dianne.
I have to try.
That night when the camp was silent, Cole pulled on the heavy buffalo robe and crawled across the camp as quickly as he could manage. His bare stomach and chest made contact with the snow, startling him. He was blessed to still have his trousers and boots on, but even with the buffalo fur, the cold bit at him, freezing his skin. After a time the cold numbed him so that even the little use he had of his muscles began to fade.
There was hardly any light. The moon, shrouded by clouds, offered no help. With each movement, Cole was certain he’d have to stop and wait to be found the next morning. The pain was almost more than he could manage, and his breathing came in heavy gasps.
Cole waited for the sound of the guards
who would spot him and either kill him or force him back to the camp. But no one came, and by the time Cole made it to a stand of trees just north of the camp, he was on his feet. There was no strength in his legs, and his head was spinning from the sheer stress of moving. Maybe his head wound had been more serious than he’d known. Fighting the dizziness, Cole picked up a fallen branch and used it as a crude walking stick. It seemed to help a bit, but the pressure of leaning against the stick caused extreme pain in his chest.
For every two or three steps Cole took, he had to rest, either sitting or leaning hard against a tree. The snow fell in heavy wet flakes, but at least there was no wind. Cole prayed the snow would cover any sign of his escape and leave the Sioux clueless as to which direction he’d gone.
“I don’t even know what direction I’m going,” he muttered. He’d started out in the direction he thought was west, but in the darkness, he could have easily gotten turned around. “I could end up in the frozen north for all I know.”
When Cole felt he could go no farther, he hunkered down between a couple of dead logs and pulled the buffalo robe close. Panting in the cold, damp air, Cole fought to keep from coughing. If he died here, his family and friends might never know what had happened to him. His bones would merely rot away with the fallen trees.
“Oh, Dianne . . . I’m so sorry.”
Dianne noted the grim expression on Gus’s face and knew the news wasn’t good. Bram’s leg showed signs of infection with streaks of red now creeping up his thigh. The smell was awful.
“He needs a doctor, doesn’t he?” she asked.
“That’d be best,” Gus answered. “What do you want me to do? Should I send one of the boys to Ennis or Virginia City?”
“Levi says there’s a doctor—well, at least it’s rumored the man is a doctor—who lives somewhere down on the Madison. I thought I might ride south along the river and see if I can find his place. If I can’t find the man or he’s not a doctor, I’ll ride on.”
“You can’t be going off by yourself,” Gus said, his tone quite serious. “And most of the boys are bringin’ in the herd for the drive. Have you figured a way to get ahold of your brothers?”
“No. Zane’s off with the army in the northeastern part of the territory, and Morgan is somewhere south. I have no way of reaching either one of them. I can always send a message to Zane at the fort, but who knows when they’ll return and he’d actually have a chance to read it.”
“Winter’s coming on fast. I figured to move the herd out by the end of the week.”
Dianne nodded. “Yes, and that must continue—you’ve already delayed too long. Uncle Bram wouldn’t be pleased with either of us if you didn’t stay with the cattle. I’ll ask Malachi to go with me. No one is going to bother me with him by my side.”
Gus nodded. “I suppose not. Look, if you ain’t back when we’re ready to leave, do you want me to wait?”
“No,” Dianne replied, gazing to where her uncle lay. “If I’m not back soon, I doubt he’ll still be alive.”
Dianne went quickly to her room and gathered a few things; there was no need to take a lot of supplies. She’d take an extra blanket because she knew the dangers of getting caught in a mountain storm. She’d also wear her heavy coat and pray for clear skies.
Faith came in about the time Dianne was packing some food into a saddlebag. “Where are you heading out to?”
“I was actually just coming to see you about that. Uncle Bram needs a doctor, and we really can’t spare any of the ranch hands. I’m going to ride south along the Madison. There’s supposed to be a man living down there who’s a doctor. I wondered if Malachi could ride with me.”
“Of course he can. I’ll get him packed. How long will you be gone?”
“I hope no more than a few hours. But if we can’t find him, we’ll have to try Ennis or Virginia City.”
Faith nodded and her brows came together as her expression grew worried. “I don’t want to worry you because I’ve seen the good Lord perform many a miracle, but honestly . . .” Her words trailed off.
Resignation filled Dianne. She’d already come to terms with thoughts of the worst. “I know. He’s probably not got much of a chance to make it, but I want to do whatever I can. I owe that much to him.”
“I’ll get Malachi,” Faith whispered. “Then I’ll go see how I can best help Koko.”
Dianne went to the barn and saddled Dolly, as well as a gentle gray named Toby. Malachi was no horseman, and the gray was as sweet-tempered an animal as lived on the ranch.
She was just leading the two animals from the barn when Faith and Malachi came hurrying toward her.
Malachi eyed the horse with a look of concern. “I ain’t much for ridin’ a horse, Miz Dianne.”
“Toby won’t give you a bit of trouble,” Dianne encouraged “Jamie rides him all the time when Uncle Bram . . . well . . . you know. When they went riding.” She handed Malachi the reins quickly and turned away so they wouldn’t see her tears.
“Faith, I’ve already talked to Koko,” Dianne said as she regained her composure. “I’ll do my best to hurry, but there’s no telling how long this will take. If the man living on the Madison is a doctor and if he’ll come with us, then we might well be back in a few hours.”
“If he’s any man at all, he’ll come with you,” Faith replied “God go with you.” She held the reins while Malachi mounted, then handed them over to him.
Dianne took pity on the man. “You’ll do just fine, Malachi Hang on and let Toby do the work.”
“Probably be better if ’n I ran ’longside,” he said with a hint of nervous laughter in his voice.
They moved out and rode to the top of the hill. The day seemed mild, but there was a bite in the air. Dianne didn’t like to admit it, but she was certain she smelled snow. She could only pray any storms might hold off until they could get help back to Bram.
Malachi sat rigid in the seat. There was no hope of urging the horses into a gallop given his inability to sit on a saddle with confidence. Dianne sighed. I should have gone on my own. Malachi is only slowing me down. But in her heart she knew Gus would never have allowed her to go off exploring without protection. They knew nothing of the man they were in search of. So many people came to the territory to lose themselves in the vast open country and avoid the law.
I’ll just have to trust that God already knows our needs, Dianne reasoned, pushing back the urgency that threatened to overwhelm her.
They worked their way down the path and then angled off toward the river. Dianne wondered why a man with the skills of a doctor would sequester himself in the middle of nowhere, but at this point she honestly didn’t concern herself with it. If he would come and give her help, he could live in the valley for the rest of his days and Dianne wouldn’t care.
The smell of woodsmoke first alerted them to the presence of another human being. Dianne perked up and checked for the wind’s direction. Malachi did likewise and pointed.
“Looks to be a-comin’ from down there.”
Dianne concurred. “Maybe we’ve found him.” She urged her horse forward and picked up the pace. She knew Malachi would have difficulty keeping up, but time was critical and Uncle Bram needed help.
They found a small, crude cabin not thirty yards from the river, sitting on a slight incline. “Hello!” Dianne called out. “Is anyone home?”
“Ya want I should go knock?”
Dianne shook her head and dismounted. “No, you wait here with the horses, if you don’t mind.” She handed Malachi her reins.
The man seemed almost relieved not to have to dismount. “I’ll be watchin’.”
Dianne appreciated his protective nature. She knew that no one would cause her harm so long as Malachi had breath in his body. He protected her just like one of her brothers.
“Hello!” she called again, this time making her way to the house.
“What do you want?” a voice called from inside the house. The voice had a decidedly south
ern drawl.
“I’m looking for a doctor. My uncle’s been wounded—badly wounded. He was attacked by a bear and I’m afraid he’ll die if I can’t get help.”
The door opened, and a man looking to be about forty-five, maybe fifty, appeared. He pulled on a coat even as he met Dianne’s gaze.
“Ma’am.” His eyes were a piercing icy blue and seemed to take in everything around him.
“My name is Dianne Chadwick. I live at the Diamond V ranch upriver from here.” He said nothing and his expression remained stoic. “I need a doctor. One of our ranch hands said a doctor had taken up residence along the Madison, in this direction.”
The man looked beyond Dianne to where Malachi sat with the horses. “Is that your Negro?”
Dianne looked back to Malachi and shook her head. “Malachi is a free man. He works for my uncle at the Diamond V. My uncle is the one who needs a doctor. He was attacked by a grizzly, and I’m afraid he’s going to die if we don’t get him some proper attention.”
The man’s jaw tightened as he continued to stare at Malachi Dianne felt desperate and put her hand on the man’s arm “Please, if you’re a doctor would you come with us? I can pay you.”
The man drew a deep breath. “The name is Hezekiah Bufford. I hail from Atlanta, Georgia. I was a doctor, but I do not look to practice any longer.”
“But why? I’ll have to ride twice the distance to find anyone else. Please, my uncle is very ill, and I fear we’ll lose him Please come and at least see if there is anything you can do. I’m afraid at best he’ll lose his leg. That’s going to require a surgeon.”
“I removed many a limb in the war,” the man said, his eyes clouding over, his expression growing distant. “Was your family in the War Between the States?”
Dianne knew her answer would probably validate the man’s decision to either stay or come to help. “My father was killed by Union soldiers.”
The Coming Storm Page 10
