Chase the Wind (Apache Runaway Book 2)

by Madeline Baker

  “This isn’t your affair, Fallon.”

  “It is now. Dammit, Johnson, drop that knife.”

  Slowly, Ralph Johnson stood up, the knife still clutched in his hand. “This dirty redskin defiled my daughter.”

  “I don’t think so. Mel, Lowell, cut him loose.”

  The two men looked at each other, then at Johnson.

  “He’s not in charge here,” Ryder said, his voice deadly quiet. “I am. Now cut him loose and get the hell out of here.”

  Moving quickly, the two men cut Chase’s hands free, then hurried toward town.

  “Drop the knife, Ralph.”

  Johnson hesitated another minute, then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the knife into the dirt. “Come, Elizabeth.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m staying here.”

  “You will come with me.”

  “Go with him,” Ryder told her curtly. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

  “Please, Mr. Fallon,” Beth pleaded softly. “I can’t leave him. Not now. He needs me.”

  “I’ll take good care of him, I promise. Now, go on home. There’s been enough trouble tonight.”

  With a last, soulful glance at Chase, Beth let herself be led away.

  Muttering an oath, Ryder holstered his gun, then knelt beside Chase, who was shivering uncontrollably. Picking up the knife Johnson had tossed in the dirt, Ryder cut Chase’s hands free. Johnson’s men had done a thorough job. There was hardly an inch of flesh on Chase’s body that wasn’t already turning black-and-blue. Both eyes were nearly swollen shut, blood dripped from a cut on his lower lip. His nose was bleeding, probably broken. No doubt he had some broken ribs as well.

  “You’ll be all right,” Ryder said. Removing his jacket, he draped it around Chase’s shoulders. “Just sit tight while I go get some help.”

  “No.” Wracked with pain, it was an effort for Chase to speak. “No one…to…see me.”

  “I understand,” Ryder said sympathetically, “but I don’t think I can carry you all the way back to the schoolhouse.”

  “No.”

  “I know, you don’t want anyone to see you.” Ryder swore under his breath. “I’ll go get the buggy.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  Ryder glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see Dusty walking toward him.

  “Mother said she can’t find Chase, and she wants you…damn!” Dusty exclaimed. “What happened to him?”

  “Johnson found him out here with Beth.”

  Dusty frowned a moment, and then grunted softly.

  “Johnson had a couple of his boys work him over.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Ryder made a sound of disgust low in his throat. “That’s not the worst of it. He was gonna castrate him. I got here just in time to prevent it.”

  “Lucky.”

  “Yeah. Go get the carriage, will you? And find your mother. We’re going home.”

  With a weary sigh, Chase closed his eyes against the pain throbbing through him.

  “Chase? Hang on, Son, we’ll get you patched up in no time.”

  With an effort, Chase opened one eye and looked at Ryder.

  “Thank…you.”

  Ryder grinned. “Glad I got here when I did.”

  “Me…too.” It was an effort to speak. Every breath sent daggers of pain lancing through his rib cage.

  “You’ll be all right,” Ryder said. “Just rest easy.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Dusty and Jenny drove up in a flatbed wagon. Jenny was at Chase’s side almost before the wagon came to a halt. Anger roiled through her as she saw what Johnson’s men had done to her son.

  “You should have killed him,” she said, glaring at Ryder.

  “He didn’t give me any cause.”

  “No cause!” Jenny exclaimed. “No cause! How can you look at what he did and say you had no cause?”

  “Calm down, Jenny girl. You can rant all you want later. Right now we need to get Chase to a doctor.”

  “You’re right. We borrowed the Pattersons’ wagon because Dusty thought Chase would be more comfortable laying down.”

  “Dorinda went over to the doc’s to tell him we’re on our way,” Dusty said.

  “Good thinking, Son. Give me a hand here.”

  As carefully as possible, they lifted Chase onto the blankets Jenny had spread in the bed of the wagon. She covered Chase with a quilt, then climbed in beside him and took his hand in hers.

  “You’ll be all right,” she crooned softly.

  Please God, she prayed. Let it be true.

  * * * * *

  Jenny stood up, her arms folded over her breasts, as the doctor entered the waiting room over an hour later.

  “He’s gonna be fine,” Forbes said quickly, reassuringly. “He’s got two black eyes, a broken nose, three busted ribs and more bruises than I’ve ever seen on any one man, including Lyle Hewitt after he got stomped on by a loco bronc, but as far as I can tell, there’s no internal bleeding, no serious damage.”

  “Thank you, God,” Jenny murmured, blinking back tears of relief. “Can I see him?”

  Forbes nodded. He knew Jenny Fallon well enough to know she was going in there whether he said she could or not. “He’s pretty heavily sedated, so he won’t know you’re there, but you can go in, if you like. I want to keep him here a day or two, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything, and then you can take him home.” He ran a hand through his hair, then smothered a yawn. “I don’t want him out of bed for at least two weeks. Light meals for the first few days. I’ll give you some laudanum for the pain.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Jenny said, then hurried into the other room.

  “Yeah, thanks, Doc.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” Dorinda asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Ryder said.

  “We’ll wait out here,” Dusty said.

  Ryder nodded, then went into the other room and closed the door.

  Jenny was standing at Chase’s bedside, tears streaming down her cheeks, when he entered the room.

  “They could have killed him,” she said, choking back a sob. “Damn Ralph Johnson.”

  “You heard the doc,” Ryder said, drawing her into his arms. “Chase is gonna be fine.”

  “I know, I know, but…” She blew out a deep breath, reminding herself that not everyone hated Indians. They had good friends in Twin Rivers, men and women who liked and respected her in spite of the fact that she was married to an Indian, who accepted and valued Ryder’s friendship, who saw him as a man, not a half-breed. Johnson was the exception, not the rule.

  “Come on,” Ryder urged, “let’s go home. There’s nothing you can do here.”

  “No, I can’t leave him.”

  “All right, Jenny girl. I’ll send the kids home to tell Dottie we’re staying in town. They can look after things for a day or two.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

  With a nod, Jenny pulled a chair up close to the bed. Tenderly, she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. Thick black hair, like his father’s. His face was bruised and discolored. Both eyes were black and swollen shut. His lower lip was twice its normal size. Dark bruises covered his chest and arms; there was a cut on his left cheek. His ribs were tightly bound.

  She shuddered as she thought of what Ralph Johnson had intended to do. She’d lived on a ranch. She’d seen stallions gelded.

  She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and knew that, if Ralph Johnson had been in the room at that moment, she would have killed him without a qualm.

  It was a sobering, horrifying thought, but true nonetheless.

  And in that instant, when every mothering instinct she possessed was screaming with outrage at what had been done to her son, she understood what had driven Ralph Johnson to pick up that knife.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Voices. Familiar voices. They penetrated the thick fog of pain that enveloped him. It hurt to breathe, to move. />
  “Chase, we’re going to prop you up a little more so you can eat.”

  His mother’s voice, thick with…tears? She was crying, he thought. Why?

  “Chase, can you hear me?”

  He nodded slightly. He tried to open his eyes, and couldn’t. He lifted one hand toward his face, felt someone take hold of it. “Don’t. Your eyes are swollen shut. We’re going to lift you up a little now.”

  He bit back a groan as calloused hands reached under him and lifted him up. Someone placed pillows behind his back.

  “I’ve got some broth here,” Jenny said. “Try to eat it.”

  He shook his head, wanting only to be left alone.

  “You’ve got to eat, Chase. You’ve got to keep your strength up.”

  He felt the touch of a spoon at his lips and after a moment, he opened his mouth. Warm beef broth trickled down his throat.

  Feeling like a mewling infant, he let his mother feed him. It was humiliating. Unable to see, unable to move, he was completely helpless, completely dependent on her.

  He felt her wipe his mouth with a damp cloth, then she offered him a drink of water, more broth, until he couldn’t eat any more. The simple act of eating left him exhausted.

  “Sleep now,” she said.

  Rising, Jenny stood staring down at her son for a moment. Every breath was labored, and her heart ached for the pain he was suffering. She removed one of the pillows from behind him, but left the others, knowing it would be easier for him to breathe if he wasn’t lying flat on his back.

  Voices moved around him. Dusty’s. Ryder’s. The doctor’s. Chase knew they were talking about him, but the words eluded him like smoke in the wind. And then sleep claimed him and he heard nothing at all.

  When next he woke, there was no light in the room. Lying there, he wondered if it was night, or early morning. Thirst burned through him, his body felt as though it were on fire.

  He flung off the covers, groaned softly as pain splintered through him.

  “Lie still.” His mother’s voice, heavy with sleep. “What do you need?”

  “Water…”

  She placed her hand on his brow. “Good Lord,” she exclaimed softly. “You’re burning up.”

  She gave him a glass of water, then went in search of Forbes, who prepared a brown-paper poultice.

  “Here,” he said, handing her several small packages. “Dissolve one of those in a glass of water, and repeat the dose every three or four hours.” Forbes grinned at her. “Ever think of being a nurse?”

  “No,” Jenny said. She tore off a corner of one of the packets and poured the contents into a glass of water.

  “Well, you’re doing a bang-up job.”

  “You’re sure he’ll be all right?”

  “I’m sure. You can take him home day after tomorrow. He’ll probably rest more comfortably in his own bed.” Forbes picked up his black bag. “I’ve got to go look in on Missus McBride,” he said, reaching for his hat. “Her baby’s due any day, and she’s out there all alone until Fred gets back from Tucson. I should be back in an hour or so.”

  “Thanks, Jonas. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  “Oh, I reckon you’d get along,” he muttered as he settled his hat on his head.

  “Oh, I reckon,” Jenny said, grinning at him. “I mean it, Jonas. Thank you.”

  “Try not to spoil him too much,” Forbes said. “See ya later.”

  Jenny nodded, then turned her attention back to her son. “Here, Chase,” she said, lifting his head a little, “drink this?”

  He took a swallow, grimacing at the bitter taste.

  “All of it,” Jenny urged.

  Chase shook his head, quietly cursing the helplessness that left him at the mercy of others.

  “Please, Chase.”

  He shook his head again. Bad enough to be laid up without having to drink such a vile concoction.

  Jenny frowned, and then, remembering how she had gotten Dusty to take aspirin, she went in search of molasses.

  A short time later, she was at his bedside once again. “Open your mouth,” she said.

  Chase shook his head. He felt awful and wanted nothing so much as to be left alone.

  “Come on, you’ll like this, I promise.” When he still refused, she made a little sound of impatience. “You might as well eat it because I’m not leaving until you do.”

  Resigned, he accepted the medicine, his mouth filling with a thick syrupy sweetness.

  She smoothed the covers over him, brushed the hair back from his brow. He heard the sound of her footsteps move away from the bed.

  “Try to get some sleep,” she said. “I’ll look in on you later.”

  But sleep eluded him. Shrouded in darkness, his body burning with fever, hurting with every breath, he thought of Beth. Beautiful, sweet Beth. What had her father done to her when he got her home? Surely even a man like Ralph Johnson wouldn’t beat his own daughter, he thought. And then he recalled the look of outrage in Ralph Johnson’s eyes, the disgust in the man’s voice when he accused his own daughter of being a slut.

  Helpless rage churned through him, and with it the desire to avenge himself on Beth’s father, to make him pay for the cruel beating he himself had received, for the cruel words that had whipped Beth like a lash. His hands closed around the sheet that covered him, clenching tighter, tighter, as he imagined his hands at Johnson’s throat, slowly squeezing the life out of him…

  “Chase, are you all right?”

  Loosening his hold on the sheet, he willed himself to relax.

  Turning in the direction of his mother’s voice, he asked, “Have you seen Beth?”

  “No, but I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “Go to her…make sure.”

  “I really don’t think I’d be welcome at the Johnson house just now,” Jenny said dryly, “but I’ll see what I can find out.”

  And then, in the morning, like a miracle, Beth was there.

  “Chase?” Her voice, soft and sweet and filled with gentle concern.

  “Beth?” He turned toward the sound of her voice, wishing he could see her face.

  “Chase?” Her hand taking his, clasping it to her breast. “Oh, Chase.”

  Beth blinked back her tears as she looked at him. His face was a mass of swollen, discolored flesh. There was a cut on his lower lip, another across his left cheek. She could feel the fever raging through him, knew each breath was causing him terrible pain. And it was all her fault.

  Chase threaded his fingers through hers. “What are you doing here?”

  “Dusty brought me.”

  “Dusty?”

  “Yes. He told my father he needed me to come to the jail and make a statement, that you were filing assault charges against him. Instead, he brought he out here.”

  “Not…true.” Dusty and Ryder had both tried to get him to change his mind, to bring charges against Johnson, but he had refused. If he wanted revenge against Johnson, he would extract it himself. He didn’t need the white man’s law to do it for him.

  “Well, you should file charges against him!” Beth exclaimed. “You can’t just let him get away with this.” She lifted his hand to her cheek, turned her head to place a kiss in the center of his palm. “Do you hurt terribly?”

  “Not now,” Chase replied. He gazed into her eyes, dark-blue eyes filled with love and compassion. “Not when you are here.”

  Beth brushed his hair from his brow, wishing she could hold him, hug him tight, but she was afraid to touch him. There were cuts and bruises everywhere she looked. Bruises her father had inflicted. “Do you hate me now?”

  “Hate you?”

  She lifted her hand and let it fall. “For what my father did to you. It’s all my fault. Oh, Chase, I’m so sorry. I never dreamed he’d do such a terrible thing. And if Dusty’s father hadn’t shown up…” Her voice trailed off as her mind filled with sickening, full-color images of what might have happened if Ryder Fallon had arrived five minutes later.


  “Beth.” Ignoring the pain that engulfed him when he moved, Chase reached for her, one hand sliding up her neck, loosening the ribbon that held her hair away from her face. “Come, lie beside me.”

  “I shouldn’t,” she said. “I might hurt you.”

  “Please?”

  Unable to refuse him, she sat down on the bed, careful not to jar the mattress as she stretched out beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” He turned his head, his lips brushing her cheek. “How long can you stay?”

  “Not long. Dusty’s waiting for me outside. Please get well soon. I miss you. Your mother said they’re taking you out to the ranch tomorrow. How will I see you again?”

  “I will find a way.”

  It had to be soon, she thought desperately. Lester Harbaugh would be arriving in less than a month.

  There was a knock at the door. “Beth? We’d better go before your old man comes looking for you.”

  “I’m coming, Dusty.”

  Chase’s arm tightened around her. He had a terrible feeling that if he released her now, he would never see her again.

  “I’ve got to go,” Beth said, blinking back her tears. “I love you.”

  “Beth…” He wanted to beg her not to leave him, but he knew it would only distress her, knew that it would only cause more trouble with her father if he learned she had come here.

  She kissed him lightly on the mouth, then slid out of bed. “You’ll come for me as soon as you can?”

  “You know I will.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.” She took his hand in hers, her heart breaking as she gazed at his battered flesh. All my fault, she thought, all my fault. How will he ever forgive me?

  “Beth?” Dusty’s voice called to her through the door.

  “I’m coming.” She squeezed Chase’s hand, bent to give him one last kiss. “Goodbye.”

  He listened to the sound of her footsteps as she crossed the floor, heard the door open, and then close again, and knew he could never repay his brother for that one act of kindness that had brought Beth to him when he needed her most.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The ride out to the ranch was long and uncomfortable. Ryder kept the horses to a slow walk, but every jolt, every breath, sent shards of pain splintering through him. Jenny sat in the back of the wagon with him, cradling his head in her lap.