“I ain’t got no daughter. One I had done went away,” the petulant voice interrupted.
Josie breathed deep, then shaking her head at the man’s stubbornness. Josie searched for a way to knock some sense into the man, short of slapping him. On the stove was a cast iron skillet with dried leftovers. Picking it up, Josie slammed it down on the stove top, saying, “Of all the stupid...”
Pierson rose with a roar, hand pulled back to swing, only to be met by a pair of green eyes daring him to try. Lowering his head Pierson whined, “I ain’t stupid.”
“Then prove it,” Josie dared.
Pierson swayed, eyes searching his surroundings, finally looking back to Josie. If anything, Pierson looked even more frazzled, as he dropped back into his chair.
“Now, Mr. Pearson, what say we both sit and start over?” Josie gently said, as she took the other chair in the room.
Sighing, Pierson nodded. “If you’d like some coffee, I heated some up a bit ago.”
“That would be nice.”
Slowly, Pierson went to the stove and taking another cup, poured them both a cup. Setting the one in front of Josie, Pierson sat down and holding his cup, stared into its contents.
The two sat there, silence growing. “She was such a sweet child,” Pearson finally said, “but after her mother died, all the good she done on Mary Jane just come undone.”
Josie listened. She didn’t have a magic wand, but she had time.
“Why do you feel it all came undone, that Mary Jane wasn’t good anymore?” Josie asked, when Pierson said nothing more.
“Oh, it really wasn’t undone, or Mary Jane a bad girl. I just didn’t know how to raise a girl. I tried, but the more I tried, the worse it got.”
Josie felt for Pierson’s dilemma. She wondered what would have happened if her father had raised his children without his wife. She didn’t think it would have been as bad as what happened here, but she knew it would have been difficult.
“You tried,” Josie spoke gently, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m sure any father would agree it’s hard raising a daughter alone.”
“I don’t know, she was such a sweet child, just don’t know what happened.” Pierson sighed. “I really do love my daughter, I really do,” he finished, a moistness filling his eyes.
Josie watched the sun, clouds chasing across the turquoise blue sky. The color reminded her of Mary Jane’s eyes, so clear, so full of life, a life that her father should be celebrating. Why wasn’t he? To her, it seemed Mary Jane was more, was stronger than Pierson even knew.
“Mr. Pearson, Dan, may I call you Dan?”
With a shrug, Pierson replied, “Okay.”
“Dan, would you be willing to tell me about Mary Jane’s mother?”
Silence greeted Josie’s question. She observed Pierson as he pulled up, eyes focused on nothing. Instantly, Josie knew he needed time. She wondered if he’d ever grieved his loss. With a smile, Josie rose, and turning to the door, she said, “Dan, when you feel ready, I would love to hear about your wife. But one thing I do know, you have an amazing and lovely daughter who needs your love.”
Chapter 12
Richard stood, watching Will ride though the area they had just vacated. He tracked his nemesis, for that was what Will had become in his mind. This was the man who had ruined everything for him, made doubly painful by the fact this Murphy had been nothing while growing up.
“Have me put in jail,” Richard said, putting the rifle to his shoulder. Slowly he tracked the man and horse then with a grin, pulled the trigger.
“What was that?” Bull asked, rounding the corner to where Richard stood. He and the others had finished making camp and noticed the absence of Richard. His friend said something about Richard checking the back trail, but Bull thought it was something more. Now seeing Richard standing, rifle in hand, he felt his instincts had been correct.
“I told you we were being followed, but we don’t have to worry about him anymore,” Richard answered, pointing the rifle to where Will lay.
“You what?” Bull growled, “You fool.”
Bull grabbed Richard by the vest, pulling him close, “We don’t kill, we go in, do a job, then leave. If you don’t harm anyone, they lose interest when the trail gets cold.”
Richard snarled, hands going up, grabbing Bull’s arms, but was unable to remove them from his vest. Quickly, he made a short jab at Bull’s head, only to be blocked again.
“If you are so good, what were you doing in jail?” Richard asked.
“A bit of overindulgence, at least we didn’t attack a man from ambush. You seem to make a habit of that. Seems to me you’re a coward.”
“Not a coward, just smart. Safer my way,” Richard countered.
“Like I said, coward. You are on your own,” Bull finished, throwing Richard backward as he turned, walking back to the others.
“No one calls me a coward and gets away with it,” Richard snarled quietly, pulling the rifle to his shoulder.
“Itchy finger there, Bud,” Richard heard behind him. “I’m not one to shoot someone, especially in the back.”
Casting his eyes left, Richard saw Case standing, pistol aimed right at his back. “He called me a coward,” Richard whined.
“You are,” Case affirmed. “You’ve done nothing but talk about how great you are, how much you had to the point I’m ready to kill you just to shut you up. You’ve got nothing, and if you’re wise you’ll do like Bull suggested and get the hell out of here and take that woman attacker with you.”
“You’ll regret this, and if Dutch hadn’t got everyone there by attacking that painted woman, you wouldn’t have gotten out of jail,” Richard threatened, slowly lowering the rifle. “We’ll go, but you’d better watch your back.”
“Just get going.”
Watching Richard and Dutch ride off, Bull turned to Case and Buck, “We probably should get rid of the body, otherwise it could cause problems later.”
Buck started to mount up, when Case called him back. “I’ll do it, and I’d appreciate you watching my back.”
Buck was a good man on the trail, but he had an eye for the women, so usually one or the other tried to keep him nearby. Not that he’d really harm anyone, but he could be off-putting, especially when he thought he was being charming. They knew he meant nothing by it, but some women, especially ‘good women’ would react badly. Most couldn’t get past his enthusiasm. And with Case not being able to stay under a roof, well, that was why they’d broken jail when they had the chance. It’d been too much for Case. Sure, they’d rustled a few steers, but nothing like robbing banks or anything. Now, with the shooting, they didn’t need any more trouble right now.
Pulling up to where the dead man was supposed to be, Case found nothing. He saw where the blood had drained into the ground, and wolf tracks. “Poor bastard,” Case said, taking his hat in his hand for a moment for the dead man. Placing the hat on his head, Case mounted up, heading back to let the others know what seemed to have happened.
Chapter 13
Thinking about a pair of green eyes, Will felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. As he turned his head, a sharp pain struck near the top of his head. Immediately it was followed by Will’s head hitting against the rocks. As he fell, Will heard the whistle of the bullet whiz continue its trajectory after hitting him. Then all was silent. Will heard nothing as he lay still on the ground.
Slowly, Will fought his way back to the present. Struggling to sit, Will fought back nausea as he felt his head. The whole right, back side of his head was covered with blood, but he didn’t think there were any holes or he wouldn’t have awakened. Will thought back. What brought him here, who had fired the shot, if that’s what it was. No horse. Perhaps his horse had thrown him and he fell and hit his head. No memory, nothing before this moment.
Who was he? Why was he out here in the middle of nowhere? Okay, go back to what you know,” he told himself.
“In the beginning,” he began, starin
g at the barren ground around him, the soft hues of gray and black giving way to the white blue of the sky. “In the beginning…” He began again, grimacing with pain as the throbbing in his head blinded him to anything else. Jaw clenched, gritting his teeth, Will finally sat up. Once the world stopped spinning, Will focused on remembering, remembering anything.
Looking around, Will noticed a sea of weeds, dried by the sun. The few tree branches Will saw stood stark against the sky, creating a world similar to the stories he’d heard of Hades.
“How can I remember such stories, but not my name? It seems my memory has more than a few holes in it,” he said, more for the sound than any need to speak. “So, you have some memories, now let’s see what ones come to mind.”
Leaning back, the shrub pricking his back, Will sighed. In an odd way, the pricking was comforting, like he’d spent many a day outdoors. He was alive, and that was something. Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes. Colored sparks of light shot to and fro behind his eyelids. Slowly, in the distance, a form began taking shape in his mind. The face was almost fully formed when the rattle of stones brought the vision to an end, and Will back to the present, his eyes flying open.
Will’s heart jumped in his chest, above him a shadow, a rather large one, was creeping in his direction. Will studied the area around him. His heart sank as he noticed there was nothing close by to defend himself. Placing hands behind him, Will braced himself to pounce, to throw himself at whatever was coming. He prepared himself to go down fighting.
As the shadow came closer, a wolf began to take shape. At least Will thought it was a wolf. Slowly, the animal continued advancing. Forcing himself to stand, Will did his best to make the most of his six-foot frame, straightening his spine, throwing his shoulders back. Will stared at the animal. Perhaps he could intimidate it, show that he would not be an easy prey.
“Get,” Will sternly ordered. He stepped forward, arms swinging in a shooing motion, “I’m not going to be your next meal,” he continued, hoping it was true.
The animal stopped, cocking its gray-brown head, as if taking in the creature in front of him. It smelled the blood clotting the brown hair. It watched as the man swayed, struggling to stay on his feet. It did not retreat nor advance from where it stood.
“I said GET,” Will tried again, voice sounding even more gravelly. He tried advancing again, tried to get the animal to leave, but to no avail. The world started spinning and Will planted his feet, determined to not fall.
The animal remained where it was. Then suddenly it bounded toward him, jumping as it neared Will. Throwing his arms over his face Will did his best to keep himself from having his eyes harmed. The wolf landed, toppling an already unsteady Will. Both landed hard, and Will heard a flat whoosh as the air was forced from his lungs. The weight of the wolf, for wolf it must be, made it difficult for Will to replace the air he’d lost.
With a hoarse shout, Will moved his arms under the animal’s chest and pushed with all the strength his starving lungs would allow, jerking his face aside to try to protect it from any bites. The wolf, claws digging into the dirt beside Will, refused to move from atop him. When the dirt failed to keep it where it was, the animal raked Will’s arms, struggling to remain where it was.
“Well, I’ll be,” Will said, realizing the animal was making no effort to tear his throat out. The animal was not trying to hurt him. Will ceased struggling. In fact, he was so weak from blood loss, Will knew he would not have been able to continue the fight much longer anyway.
The moment Will ceased his struggles the wolf put its face close to Will’s. Will heard it sniffing his injury, as if it was trying to understand the blood smell over the man scent. Will’s surprise was even greater when the wolf, looking Will in the eyes, began licking Will’s face.
Will started laughing and, putting his arms around the wolf gently, moved it to one side. This time the wolf didn’t fight Will. The two lay side by side as Will relaxed, breathing deeply of the dry air.
When Will felt he could move, he turned toward the wolf, “Well buddy, do you think you could help me walk away from here?”
The wolf stood, and Will, using the animal for balance, moved to a standing position. Together, the two exited away from the ambush site.
Sometime later, after rounding another hillock, the wolf suddenly stopped. Will was brought up short.
“What’s up there, why you stopping?” Will asked as he moved to step forward. The wolf moved in front, blocking the way. Its hind leg landed and the ground started giving way. Will jumped back, pulling the wolf with him.
The two had stopped short of making a fatal step. With the sun fast sinking toward the west, Will needed to find a safe place to stay. Turning carefully, the two climbed back over the rocks they’d just navigated.
Each step over the last four hours had brought a stinging pain to the lacerations on his head. So far, Will had kept the pain in check, but the stress of almost going down had pushed him past caring. Stepping forward, his foot slipped, down he went, hitting his head. Before passing out, Will hoped the wolf had not been hurt. Will felt nothing as he tumbled down landing in a heap at the bottom of the short drop.
Chapter 14
“Like this?” Young Homer asked, looking hopefully at Josie.
“Well, first you have to hold the bandage tight enough so that the blood will slow down,” Josie said, demonstrating on Homer’s arm. “Feel the pressure?”
Homer had been after Josie to teach him about medicine. He’d heard about how she’d set the Fresch boy’s broken arm, that same boy who’d help beat him up that day she’d come to town, where the bone had come through the skin. The fact that it was healing with no infection made her a hero to him.
Watching her demonstrate, he was trying to understand why she did what she did.
When he nodded his assent, Josie continued, “Once you’ve slowed the blood loss, you need to clean the wound. If you don’t, in all likelihood it will cause problems later.”
“So you stop the blood, then clean it up, so you can see what to do next?” Homer questioned, proud of his understanding.
Letting up on the pressure she’d been applying to Homer’s arm, Josie thrilled at Homer’s enthusiasm. It was a joy to share with him, and it was providing a good refresher for her.
“You are correct, then if you’re dealing with broken bones you do your best to set the bone so the two broken ends are lined up, close to each other,” Josie added.
“Why?”
“Well, they will grow together one way or the other; if they are not straight, then what do you think would happen?” Josie questioned Homer.
“Then you would limp or your arm wouldn’t be straight?” Homer asked. It was important that he learn, so if he ever got the chance, he could help out. He might not be strong like the other boys, but this would help even things out. Plus he truly enjoyed the idea of helping sick people.
“Yes, plus the muscles and the area around the break would be affected also,” Josie continued. “The thing about the body, things are connected and it helps to understand that so you make the right decisions without having to think it out piece by piece. Sometimes there isn’t time to hunt the answer in a book.”
Homer looked solemnly at Josie, taking in all that she had said. He paused, gathering his courage, then asked, “Miss Josie, can I go with you when you go out to treat someone?”
Josie paused before answering. She knew Homer was special, a young man with an appetite for learning. But it was the eternal story, someone always wanted to dampen that enthusiasm, keep them down. Josie knew his uncle didn’t approve of Homer spending so much time with her. She could still hear his words, “You’re giving him ideas, ideas he can’t have.” She’d heard them from many folks when she said she was going to be a doctor like her father. She often wondered what her family thought of her decision. One day she would ask her siblings if they ever got together. Perhaps when they had children, she would visit.
Sighing
, she smiled at Homer, not wanting to dampen his dreams, but also, she needed to be realistic. “Why don’t we wait and see. Now, you’d better get home and get your chores done. Remember your agreement with your uncle.”
Homer’s shoulders slumped, and he got up and headed for the door. Glancing back, he smiled and promised, “I’ll be back.” And out the door he went.
It wasn’t more than ten minutes later, as Josie was clearing the area she’d been using, while working with Homer, his aunt and uncle entered her office. Josie wondered what brought the two of them here so quickly after she’d sent Homer home. She hoped he hadn’t said something to antagonize his uncle.
“Miss, ah, Doctor Josephine,” the big, bearded man started. He was interrupted by his wife, her eyes looking stern, but not unkind. “What we want to say is, has Homer become a problem with his demands on your time?”
Of all the possibilities Josie had considered, this one never entered her mind. Taking the time to study the couple’s demeanor, Josie didn’t feel it was condemning, but an honest question. The fact that Homer’s uncle had corrected himself and called her doctor added to her belief this was why they were here.
“No, Homer is a joy to work with. He’s bright and catches on quickly,” Josie assured the two.
Both seemed to relax at Josie’s answer, so she continued, “Is there a problem? Is he not doing his chores? I know that was the agreement.”
“No, ma’am,” the uncle answered. “We,” he indicated his wife and himself, “know how Homer can be, especially since losing his parents.”
“We want to do what’s best for the boy,” Homer’s aunt added. She cast down her eyes for a moment, then squaring her shoulders, said, “We,” she drew a deep breath, “we lost our two children to cholera on the trip here and well, we feel we’ve been given another chance, a chance with Homer.”
Suddenly, Josie understood. She thought his uncle hadn’t wanted Homer to learn, now she knew they wanted everything for him, but were afraid they’d be unable to provide. Smiling, Josie took their hands in hers, smiling widely, “At the rate he is learning, he may soon know all I do. He asked today if he could go out with me,” Josie ended with a small laugh of relief.
Josie's Dream (Grandma's Wedding Quilts Book 9) Page 5
