The Wanderer

by Jan Irving

  Jude got up and walked over to the other man. He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Im sorry we were so curious about Mr. Fontenots past. We didnt mean to pry.”

  Seamus shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes. “Its all right, Doc. Ill never forget Gabriels eyes after he found out theyd hurt my Jacob—so cold, not like the boy Id known…” Seamus swallowed. “He shot my boy with his daddys pistol. Put him out of his pain. And then he shot every other man whod hurt him.

  “After—Gabriel, he had to leave, but I followed him; hes the only family I got now.” Seamus cleared his throat and picked up his plate of food after a moment. “So you see, I owe him, and when he gets bad off, sometimes I take care of him like he did my boy.”

  * * *

  Much later that evening, Gabriel still had the sheet wrapped around his waist as he leaned against the window. His body was so thin, making Jude itch to nag him to eat, to rest. He was looking across the road toward the saloon.

  Jude thought he made a lonely figure.

  “Ive brought your dinner,” he said in a subdued tone. He hadnt been able to finish his, too wound up after hearing Seamuss story. Instead, hed had to walk the planks by the storefronts in town, back and forth, trying to leave behind the sickness in his gut over the revelation of Gabriels past.

  “That old man told you, didnt he?” Gabriel asked in a calm voice.

  “Yes. Im sorry. My God…”

  Gabriel shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Put the food on the table, Doctor. I do not have much of an appetite this evening.”

  Jude did as he was asked but then couldnt leave. He went to the window and looked to see what had caught Gabriels rapt attention. Jude tensed when he saw David Smith and two of the men in his gang had just arrived on horseback.

  “They mean to make trouble for you if you stay in town,” Jude said softly. “I own a cabin not far from here. I could bring you food, medicine. Youd be safe there, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel ran a weary hand over his unshaven jaw, shaking his head. “Nowhere you can run from men like that. You have to face them.” He gave Jude a sharp glance. “Besides, I have reason to believe its not just me theyll be gunning for.”

  “I am careful, very careful to…stay out of trouble. This will blow over, as it has in the past.” Jude avoided his eyes. “Besides, you arent in any shape to take them on,” Jude added primly, mouth hardening. “I know youre handy with a gun but surely…”

  Gabriels face softened as if he could clearly see the source of Judes distress. He leaned his forehead against Judes. “Sweet Jude,” he whispered. “Youre different, and some men cant tolerate that. They dont understand it, and it makes them angry and afraid.”

  Heart pounding, Jude stared as Gabriel pulled away, clearing his throat.

  “Someones going to die. Nothing can change that,” Gabriel said.

  Chapter Five

  “Shhh!” Jude stopped struggling, recognizing the voice. Gabriels big, warm, calloused hand covered his lips, and for an insane moment, Jude wanted to throw his fears aside. He wanted to invite Gabriel into his bed, wanted him to cover Jude, press him into the mattress…

  “Dont make a sound. Can you do that?” Jude blinked before nodding. He took in Gabriels sober expression, and his heart quickened as he sat back on his lonely bed. “David Smith and his gang are nosing around outside your clinic, liquored up,” Gabriel whispered. “Jude, get dressed.”

  “Ill talk to him—” Jude began, tossing aside the fine Irish linen sheets his mother had sent him last Christmas. He was conscious of Gabriels eyes on his barely clothed body.

  “No.” Gabriel was an intimidating shadow in the sepia tones of Judes bedroom, a tarnished angel. “Theres no talking to men like that! If you show yourself, some fool may shoot you.”

  Jude swallowed as he pulled on his suspenders. “What do you suggest then? I cant just ignore them. They are sure to get up to mischief, but they are just very young men…men Ive attended church with.”

  “Grab your doctors bag,” Gabriel ordered. “Mouse is waiting just outside of town with my horse and pack mule and some fixings from the kitchen.”

  Jude gaped. “What? Gabriel, I cant leave town!”

  Gabriel was suddenly close, one big hand cupping Judes chin, lifting it firmly so Jude had no choice but to meet hard eyes, eyes full of sexual awareness. He swallowed thickly, knowing Gabriel experienced what was simmering between them and that it left Gabriel unashamed.

  But his self-appointed guardian only continued in a soft, flat voice, “Youll leave town tied up and slung over my horse unless you do exactly what I say, damn you, Jude.”

  Judes eyes widened in shock. “So Im your captive now? Gabriel…”

  “I have a bad feeling, and I learned to trust such premonitions during the war. You are…entirely too trusting, too good a man.” Gabriel swallowed, rubbing his chin. “But I am not a good man.”

  “I dont believe Im in any danger,” Jude scoffed. “I have lived in this town for years and—”

  “I disagree.” Gabriel pointed to Judes open wardrobe. “Finish getting dressed and get your bag. Do it now, or Ill do it for you.”

  Jude did as Gabriel demanded because this was not the sad, educated man who teased him gently, but the dangerous man whod once held a knife at Judes throat. He felt the impact of Gabriels words like pebbles striking his skin.

  “Im coming back here,” Jude vowed, flashing Gabriel a stubborn look. “I have patients to take care of, and David Smith and his gang are not going to run me out of town.”

  Gabriel grunted. “At least youll be alive to argue with me about that, Doc.”

  * * *

  As soon as Jude closed and locked his back door, his gut tightened. For one thing, it was very quiet. When Smiths gang had acted out in the past, theyd always been noisy, an annoyance that could be brushed off like the insects that bit into exposed skin on summer nights.

  Gabriel had one of his pistols gripped in a steady hand, the long barrel gleaming silver in the moonlight.

  Jude opened his mouth, ready to put him in his place because he didnt want any of the men of the town accidentally shot, but the words died on his lips as he took in Gabriels face, tight and pale, when he handed Jude his instrument bag.

  And then Jude noticed a dark figure at the livery straighten as if hed spotted Jude and Gabriel leaving Judes clinic.

  Gabriels warm hand on the small of his back urged Jude forward. Suddenly Judes throat was as dry as the dust that blew through town during a summer drought, his heart pounding in his ears.

  Gabriel breathed, “Keep walking. No matter what happens, head for the well just outside of town.”

  “Gabriel…” Jude took a deep gulp of steadying air, holding Gabriels gaze, seeing concern for him…and the sternness of a former soldier, a warrior. He nodded, ghosting as quietly as he could to the next set of buildings, aware of Gabriel somewhere behind him.

  Glass shattered and Jude flinched.

  “Keep moving.” Gabriel urged him forward, but Jude froze, clinging to a post near the Chinese laundry, looking back at his clinic, watching his shingle sway in the night breeze, watching flames shoot up through a broken window in his examination room.

  “No!”

  It was like someone had struck him; his clinic was not just his home—it was part of who he was, how he helped people. Jude fought Gabriel, pain blossoming like a bruise.

  Gabriels hard, gaunt body shoved him back when Jude tried to retrace his steps. Shadows moved, a furtive ring around Judes clinic.

  Some Jude recognized. The tall red-haired man with a limp was Giles Lansdown, whom hed stitched up two months ago. He had a broken heart since Mary Harper had agreed to step out with Andrew Beathen. And there was Wally Steen, who ran the livery. Jude had loaned him the money to repair his business when part of it burned down two years ago. Hed managed to save the fingers of Wallys left hand, which had been badly burned, staying up nights, changing the light dressing, falling asle
ep by Wallys bedside.

  “No, Gabriel! I know those men!”

  “Come on, Doc.” Gabriels voice was gentle, pleading. “We cant stay.”

  The fire in his window had grown. Now he saw orange light writhing upstairs in the rooms he used as a hospital when the grippe ran through town. He remembered the patients hed lost there: Grace MacIntosh, Apple Johnson. He remembered the tears in the eyes of Amanda Covington when shed woken up free of the fever.

  “Why are they doing this?” This was his quiet life. This was his safe life. What had tipped it into darkness?

  “You stand out,” Gabriel whispered.

  “Ive held patients when they died in my clinic. Ive removed boils and splinters. Ive brought babies into the world. Ive…treated goats and pigs for infection.” This couldnt be happening. Hed made a place where he could bury his shame and help people.

  “Jude, youre the heart of this town. I was only here a short time, but I could see that,” Gabriel said, gripping his arm and trying to pull him into safer shadows. “Dont you understand? Smith cant let you alone if he wants to run it. You stood with Mouse, with me… It was inevitable.”

  “No!” A bottle filled with a burning rag sailed through the air, and then another and another, striking the wood, lighting up the roof. Tinder-dry shingles exploded. “No, Gabriel.”

  Jude didnt feel it when Gabriel hefted him, lifting him over his shoulder. Hot tears stung his eyes. He heard the other man coughing, knew he wasnt… He was still weak, still healing. Jude should…

  Behind him, his home, his place to heal, burned.

  * * *

  “He hasnt said a word.” Mouses voice. Jude lay on his bedroll and stared up at the stars. He could still smell the smoke from his clinic. His cheeks were chilled from the cold night air, the skin tight like a mask. His eyes burned in the darkness.

  Gabriel had carried him to where Mouse waited with his animals, and placed Jude, very carefully, in his horses saddle. Hed put Mouse up on the mule and then taken the reins, walking them deep into the brush, past old campfires and toward where the smudgy outline of the foothills hid the stars.

  “Hes hurting too much,” Gabriel said, sounding exhausted. He coughed and then asked, “Do you want hot coffee?”

  “Yes, sir.” There was the clank of a metal pot against a tin cup. “He never did anything but help people. How could they…?”

  “Its complicated, Mouse. You of all people should understand shades of gray. And you are helping Jude. He knows youre here.”

  Jude closed his eyes, but he couldnt sleep. He just lay there, hearing his heart beating, his breath moving through his body. Why didnt Gabriel and Mouse leave him alone?

  He felt like something dead.

  * * *

  He didnt remember he was barefoot until ashes stirred up under his feet. Judes eyes stung from the smoke. He walked through the middle of Sylvan toward the black walls of his clinic as the sun rose, red and swollen.

  He thought he saw a curtain twitch in the bakers. A door opened partway at the bank. But no one left their homes to speak to him.

  Debris spattered the boardwalk like charred leaves in front of what had been his home. He looked up, surprised the two-story walls still stood. Inside he could hear the fire still crackling. Wood groaned like a dying creature.

  Suddenly there was a sound like a broken breath, and then as he watched, frozen, the second floor showered down, picking up speed in an avalanche of sparks.

  “Get back!” Gabriel. Gabriels voice. Gabriels arms, yanking him off the boardwalk, rolling with him.

  Heat shot out like gunpowder, searing Judes skin. He was in the middle of the street, his face pressed into the dirt, Gabriels body covering him. The sound was like the end of the world. He screamed because it went on too long.

  And then it stopped and there were only things floating in the air as Jude panted. Gabriel shifted, and Jude turned onto his side, unable to lift himself to his feet.

  The walls had fallen. He could see the stubby black stove Mrs. Stevenson took pride in using, fallen to its side. He could see the painting his grandfather had left him, the canvas curled up into a blackened scroll, the gold Italian frame in bits. And his writing, all the journals hed filled in his study of poetry, of loneliness, fluttering lazily as browned sheets of paper fell to earth.

  Gabriel bent down and brushed aside dust, picking up the shards of something; it was his shingle: JUDE EVANS, DOCTOR OF MEDICINE. He handed it to Jude, and Jude took it numbly.

  Squeezing his shoulder, Mouse said softly, “Come on, Doc.”

  * * *

  Gabriel looked up at Seamus from where he knelt by a sleeping Jude, covering him with a thin blanket. “Seems like my luck hasnt changed; I always get someone hurt in my place.”

  “Thats not how I see it, Mr. Gabriel,” Seamus said, scrubbing his unshaven jaw. The old man looked every one of his seventy years this morning. “Hed probably have died if not for you.”

  “Smith wouldnt have tried to burn him out if Jude hadnt cared for me.” “Seems to me a man like your doctor would have come up against that bully sooner or late,” Seamus disagreed.

  “Hes not my doctor, Seamus.”

  “Sure he is,” Seamus said, giving the scowling Gabriel a sunny smile.

  Gabriel growled something under his breath before saying, “I need you to do something for me.”

  * * *

  “Jude?” A gentle voice roused him a few hours later. “Doc, come on; Ive got hot coffee and some griddle cakes I mixed up.”

  Jude blinked. His feet were wrapped tightly in something…he sat up and saw it was rags cut from Gabriels shirt. So it hadnt been a dream; hed returned to his clinic.

  “Jude,” Gabriel prodded.

  “Im not…” Jude squeezed his eyes shut. Then he swallowed, looking at Gabriel, seeing he looked even more tired than the previous night. His skin was pale under his tan, and his eyes were full of warm concern. “All right.” His voice was hoarse. “Is there any water to wash?”

  Gabriel hesitated, and something like approval moved over his face. “Drink some first, Jude.” He nodded to the stream. “If you dont mind it being cold.”

  “I have camped out sometimes,” Jude huffed. “Im not a frail flower.”

  “No, youre tougher than you look,” Gabriel noted, turning back to the fire, where he poured coffee into a tin cup for Jude. He lowered his voice. “I know youre hurting, Doc.”

  Jude knelt by the brook and splashed water onto his face, washing away soot from the fire and the traces of last nights tears. It was bracing. “I dont know where to go,” he admitted. “I had a place, and I lost it.”

  “No, you didnt lose it; it was taken from you.” Gabriels jaw flexed. “And its partly my fault. You taking care of me tipped the balance.”

  “Gabriel…” Jude reached out but dropped his hand before he made contact with Gabriels arm. “Ill never regret caring for you. It was the right thing to do.”

  “Im glad you think so, Doc, since it is probably what got your clinic burned down.” Gabriel pulled out a small pouch and scattered spices onto the griddle cakes. “Your friend Ming sent along some fixings. He was worried about you.”

  “He took a risk,” Jude said. “Folks in town barely tolerate him and his son. Is your friend all right? I didnt see him.”

  “Seamus was camping outside of town when they set fire to your clinic,” Gabriel reassured him. “Dont worry; the old man is tough, like you. Hes gone into town for me to keep a watch on Smith and his gang.”

  Gabriel dished out some griddle cakes. There was wild sage cut up with the fried dough, the scent warm and spicy in the late morning air. As the sun rose higher, it promised another scorching day.

  “Where is Mouse?” Jude asked.

  “Sleeping.” Gabriel nodded to the lumpy form stretched out on the other side of the fire. “He stood watch once we got back to camp. I figured hed be good at it since he hears everything.”

  “I never would
have thought of that,” Jude said, biting his lip, “giving him that responsibility.”

  “Hell be a man one day soon. Have to make his way, Doc,” Gabriel said mildly.

  “Do you think Ive been holding him back?” The cakes were tough, nothing like Mrs. Stevensons wonderful cooking, but they were hot and Jude was suddenly hungry. “That he might want…more from life?”

  “I think you love him,” Gabriel said.

  * * *

  Jude kept his eyes on the horizon as they moved farther away from his town. Sweat rolled down his back, and he wanted to simply sit; he didnt want to go anywhere.

  Outcast.

  The word was caught in his throat as they passed scrubby pines and walked through tall brown grass, over dusty, flat boulders and the bits of prairie wood resembling the bones of some dead creature.

  Gabriel touched his back, guiding him forward.

  * * *

  Gabriel was coughing by the time they reached Judes rustic cabin in the foothills.

  Jude had insisted on guiding the animals while Gabriel rode the stallion and Mouse the old mule. Finally they passed through a cloud of purple asters, past the little waterfall and pool that Jude used for bathing, refreshing even in the heart of summer, to the stand of dried-out pines and the hushed sound of the prairie wind stirring through them.

  “This is a peaceful place,” Gabriel said. He climbed wearily down off his horse, and Jude noticed the big mans fingers shaking as he led the stallion to the brook for a deep drink.

  Gabriels face was shiny with fever sweat.

  “Yes, it is that.” Jude sighed in agreement even though lately hed also found it almost unbearably lonely to come here. “I use it as a retreat for my writing.”