by DeWanna Pace
“Yes, ma’am. In fact, he’s the one who puts a blanket and a pillow out for me each night. I’d suggest you all grab a pew, but another fella sleeps there. Didn’t seem right to bring it up.”
The cook smiled. “My kind of man, the preacher, and you’re free to tell him I said that, if you like.”
“I will.” Gage turned to open the door.
“Wait a minute,” Willow said, reaching for his hand to stop him. “You wanted to see the doctor?”
If looks had the power to peel, she’d have just been skinned. Fury set Gage’s features as he glared back at her and didn’t allow her contact. “Leave it alone, Willow. Leave me alone. I’ve got things to do and places to be.”
Confusion plowed a furrow on Doc Thomas’s forehead as his eyes studied Gage’s scars. “I don’t mind, son. No trouble at all. Like I said, it’s been a fairly easy night. You out of the salve I gave you for your face?”
“It’s his eyes, Doctor.” She dared to cross the line Gage had drawn in the sand for her not to step over. “Not the flesh.”
“Follow me.” Doc turned to head back down the hall from where he and Snow had emerged.
Clearly, Gage had wanted to leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he simply stood at the door, seething at the choice she’d made for him.
Finally, he slammed the door shut and walked past her. “This is my business alone.”
“Maybe once you’re gone from here, Gage Newcomb,” Willow countered, following him down the hall, “but as long as you’re near me, I’m making it mine. I care about you.”
“Don’t. It’ll get you nowhere. I told you. I can’t love you. I won’t love you.”
She decided she was going to fight him all the way if she must. No matter how stubborn Gage became. Whatever was wrong, she knew his anger was really an echo of fear. Better to know exactly what she had to help him face.
Lead me, Lord, she prayed as she entered the room the doctor had chosen. Give me the right words, the right advice to convince him this is the right thing to do. If it’s what I fear and he’s going blind, help me assure Gage that he still has a decent future ahead of him. These will be the most important words I’ve ever spoken and, Lord, You know how many have come out of my mouth. Don’t let me foul this up. Let me dig deep enough to make him hear, help him see, let him feel and understand that I truly want what’s best for him. Let this serve no other purpose but to set him free from what he fears.
Chapter Fifteen
Anger consumed Gage as Dr. Thomas peered through the glass instrument and asked him questions. He’d been through this all before and it served no purpose now. The man would just tell him what he already knew, not what he wanted—no, needed—to know most. How much longer would he see? Was there a point where his eyes would ever stop getting worse or would they experience total darkness?
“Tell me again how this happened.” Doc Thomas leaned back and switched off something that looked like a bright light fastened to a miner’s hat. “Don’t spare any details.”
Gage glanced at Willow sitting in a chair next to the cot he sat on while the doctor examined him. She’d dug in deep and appeared unmoved by his deliberate anger toward her. She could be stubborn, mule-headed or whatever-she-preferred-to-label-it persistent, particularly if she thought she was right about something. And Willow was right about making him do this.
He’d thought about visiting a doctor again after she’d had to read Whitman’s poem to him. He’d known then his eyes had taken a turn for the worse.
Gage had convinced himself he wanted to know how long, how much, exactly when to expect whatever would occur. But faced with reality, he was afraid of really knowing. Of accepting his fate without knowing whether or not there was still an ounce of hope.
He did his best to make the retelling short, accurate and to the point. He knew Willow was listening hard, waiting to hear all he’d kept from her. “I tracked a man. In an effort to escape, he managed to throw a bucket of wash water in my face. The water was filled with lye. As you can see, my skin’s pretty much healed, but my eyes didn’t come out so fortunate. A doc down south in Laredo and another in Fort Worth both told me I’ll probably go blind. I’m hitching my hope to the prob’ly.”
The physician nodded. “Looks to me like spectacles are in order for now. Not just any pair. They’ll be pretty thick, but they’ll help for a while. I’d say you’re losing details, aren’t you? Can’t spot little things, but you still see the big picture?”
Gage nodded as the man offered him the pair he wore. “Yours will be twice as thick as mine, maybe more.”
Studying the eyeglasses, Gage tried them on for size. He shook his head, attempting to ward off the dizziness that immediately made his head spin. “These are supposed to help?”
The doctor pulled out a drawer and thumbed through a box that contained several pairs.
“You and I wear different lenses. You’re farsighted and I’m nearsighted. Direct opposites.” He chose a pair from the box. “Here, try these.”
Gage returned the man’s spectacles to him and replaced them with the new pair.
“Well?” Willow studied him, her face etched with eagerness.
“They’ll do.” He refused to give her the satisfaction of learning the doctor knew what he was doing. Everything came into focus better as Gage peered through the choice meant for him. It couldn’t be as simple as getting a pair of new spectacles, could it? The first two he’d tried months ago had ended up crushed in a fit of rage beneath his boot heel.
Willow stood beside him now, patting his back as though he were a little boy who needed soothing. She had not one inch of fear of how angry he was at her.
“You’re going to wear these from now on,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Not in public,” he argued.
Exasperation exited in a rush of air from her lungs. “That’s when you need them most if you’re going to continue working as a Ranger,” she insisted. “How will you track anything if you don’t wear them?”
“They’ll make me look vulnerable...limited.” Gage stood and thrust the pair back at her, further angry that the doctor now knew what he did for a living.
Doc might as well know the rest of it since Willow felt so compelled to spill his beans. “That’s the whole point. I can’t continue my profession, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. Rangering’s all I’ve ever done. Who I’ve ever been. I don’t know what else to be if I’m not that. I want nothing else but that.”
He hated to see the hurt on her face, but it had the effect he needed to make her understand she had to go away.
Doc Thomas closed the drawer and faced them both. “Looks like you two have things to talk out that aren’t my concern. So I’m gonna go get the other ladies settled in. Mr. Newcomb, I can see your frustration and I hope you find some kind of way to work through the circumstances you’re dealing with. I’ve heard fine things about you. But, sir, my advice to you is to wear those as long as they’ll help. After that point, put what’s left to use in a way you’ll be contented and will make you proud of yourself.”
He brushed a hand through his graying temple. “A doctor has to give up his profession one day, too, you know. Just as many of us must face the ravages of time or circumstances. It doesn’t make us any less worthy of respect, does it? The sooner you come to terms with your level of sight, the sooner you’ll find a happier way to live with yourself.”
He headed out the door and left Gage and Willow to a silence loud with the truth he’d spoken.
“He said what I’ve been trying to say, Gage.” Willow held his pair of spectacles. “Let me help you find a way to keep your independence and lead a productive life. For example, maybe you could tell me some of the stories you must have as a Ranger. I could write them down and send them off to my boss along with the story he’s waiting on from...”
Her face turned ashen as she whispered, “Oh, no, I left the envelope on the table. I didn’t think about it when I le
ft ho— Oh, now what am I going to do?”
“What envelope? What table? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing important,” she said, looking slightly dazed and full of a brand-new secret. “Nothing that can’t wait until morning, that is. I think we’re both tired and need to get some sleep, don’t you? No use arguing this point any more tonight. How about we meet at the livery at the crack of dawn, grab the buggy and see if we can’t wrangle up the sheriff and some men to help us flush out Shepard?”
“You can wait till morning if you like.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything tonight.” She handed him the glasses. “It’s dark and you’ll see better in the morning. Handling Shepard and his men is going to be hard enough in daylight.”
“I may be almost blind, but I recognize that look too well.” Gage felt it in his bones. She was about to set something into motion and put herself at risk again. She was the one who needed to make a promise about staying put.
He only hoped whatever was troubling her had nothing to do with the horse thief. There was no room or time for mistakes where that man was concerned. And Gage wanted her far out of the way when he headed to Daisy’s ranch to serve Hutton his final justice. Soon as he left and conferred with the sheriff, he’d be fast on Hutton’s trail.
“Promise me you’re not planning anything foolish,” he demanded.
“When have I ever done something like that?”
“I want to leave here knowing that you can take care of yourself.”
“Then you still won’t stay, no matter what?”
She wasn’t asking him to remain in town until morning. Willow meant forever.
He stared into the palomino eyes that had come to mean so much to him. He wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t. “No matter what, I’m gone once I capture Hutton. It’s what has to be.”
Chapter Sixteen
The children were safe in bed at Bear’s, Snow and Myrtle long past asleep and Gage gone to, she prayed, his church pew. As tired as she was by the night’s events, Willow couldn’t sleep. She lay on the cot next to Snow’s and was grateful her sister had started snoring. That meant whatever sounds she made in sneaking out of the doctor’s office wouldn’t awaken Snow.
Myrtle, on the other hand, would be the one to pass with caution. How in the world would she get past the bell that hung over the door without the cook’s knowledge?
Sitting up carefully and hoping the wooden cot would not creak from the effort, Willow settled her boots to the floor. Fortunately, her sister had accepted the fact that she elected to keep her boots on in case trouble came during the night and they had to be quick about leaving.
A glance at Snow’s feet stirred a moment of appreciation for her sister’s support. Snow still wore her shoes, too.
Willow grabbed the blanket off her cot and tiptoed carefully out of the room and down the hall to the parlor. Just wonderful. Myrtle had left the lamp lit, or else the doctor had for whatever purpose he deemed necessary. A glance at the cook curled up tightly on the settee confirmed Willow’s need to be especially careful in not waking the woman. Her little round body barely fit, and it must have been hard finding just the right position for comfort.
Now, how to cover the bell with the blanket so the ring would be muffled when she pulled open the door?
She’d been blessed with height, but even on tiptoe Willow wouldn’t be tall enough to drape the blanket over the bell and stuff it between each side of the clapper. Everyone knew she wasn’t exactly the most graceful person on earth, and she would be putting herself in a precarious position if she attempted it without help of some kind.
No footstool in sight anywhere.
Only a table in front of the settee where the doctor had left some copies of Harper’s Bazaar for his patients to read if forced to wait. Most of his customers must be women. The year-old fashion magazine was all the rage in the East and she was surprised that its popularity had reached this far west already. Dare she try her weight on the table?
Over in the corner next to the locked medicine cabinet stood a pole with a covered birdcage hanging from its hook. Beneath that sat a burlap bag propped against the pole. Seeds? It looked full enough to add just enough height to make a difference.
Willow tiptoed over and checked the material that tied the bag closed. Her knowledge of rope now served her well. The rawhide was twisted firmly and secured the burlap adequately. Probably had to be tied strong to keep out little curious hands that liked to explore things while waiting and were eager to help feed the pet.
Hopefully, this would do the trick.
Willow tried to lift the bag, only to grunt with effort. Her eyes shot over to see if the sound had disturbed Myrtle. The woman wiggled for a second, yawned, then settled back into place.
Nothing she could do but drag it. The volume that would give Willow the added height she needed was far too heavy to lift.
She grabbed the rope end and began to pull, only to bump the table filled with magazines.
Grimacing, she readjusted her angle enough to slide around the table leg that had almost proved her undoing. Finally, gratefully, Willow managed to reach the door. Now to lay down the bag and get a good step up.
Thunk! It landed with a thud louder than she’d expected.
Remembering to grab the blanket again before daring to maneuver herself into position, she lifted one foot and planted her heel firmly atop the middle of the feed bag. Testing carefully, she lifted the second.
Seeds shifted, making her wobble, and she had to stuff part of the blanket in her mouth to keep from saying, “Whoa!”
Her pulse bounced in her veins as if it were bubbles dancing in a pot of hot water.
She took the blanket from her mouth and reached up to see if she had enough height to get the job done.
She did. Stretching a length of the blanket between both hands, she balanced on the pads of her feet and threw the material over the bell. Momentum carried the blanket high enough, and she was able to stuff some of it around both sides of the clapper.
Done! She praised herself for a job well accomplished as she lowered her heels to regain a steadier surface beneath her feet. Her weight shifted the seeds again and she almost retwisted the same ankle she’d hurt the other day.
Great, that’s all I need, she thought. Hurt myself before I even get started.
Afraid to linger any longer, Willow sucked in her breath, opened the door and looked up. The bell didn’t ring. She exhaled ever so quietly.
But neither would the door open very far. She’d forgotten how heavy the bag was. Willow was afraid to scoot the door open any wider for fear that the movement might be too jarring and change the position of the blanket that kept the clapper silent. Would she be able to squeeze through this small opening?
Only one way to find out. She sucked in her breath again, this time as hard as she could, hoping to flatten her stomach as much as possible. She pushed her right shoulder and hip through, turning her head sideways so as not to bump her nose. Pressing her cheek tightly against the outer side of the door, she slid a little farther but seemed to get stuck. The left side of her body refused to mold itself to the effort.
Willow could just imagine somebody coming along and finding her in such an embarrassing position.
Suddenly somebody grabbed her right hand and gently yanked her from the side. She started to scream but couldn’t. She could only expel the breath she’d sucked in for so long.
“Going somewhere?” a man’s voice asked.
Doc Thomas! She’d thought he was asleep somewhere in the back of his office. What was he doing out here? How would she explain this without his hauling her off to an asylum?
“Uh...I...uh...got stuck, you see.”
“Yes, I noticed that.” He let go of her hand.
“Well, I decided I needed to go check on something important I left back at the house. I didn’t want to wake any of you.” She felt like a child confessing to a bad deed done, but she’d real
ly meant well. “I stuffed a blanket in the bell over the door so it wouldn’t ring and wake up everyone as I left. You’ll see how I managed that when you go inside. But as you can tell, I had a little trouble achieving what I set out to do. I apologize for the mess you’re going to find.”
Doc Thomas nodded. “Apology accepted. I just want to know one thing.”
She hoped she didn’t have to reveal any more about the why of her actions. “Yes?”
“Why didn’t you just use the back door?”
“Oh.” She wanted to melt right there in the road into a muddle of stupidity. Who would have thought there was a back door? “Wasn’t thinking, is all I can say.”
He laughed. “At least you’re honest. I’ll let you go, then, and, Miss McMurtry, if you return and would rather not set off the bell, go around back and come through the kitchen. My office used to be someone’s home before it became a business.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said and hurried away as fast as she could before she died of embarrassment in front of him.
* * *
Gage didn’t know how he’d managed to get here. Last thing he remembered was opening the sheriff’s office door and finding the lawman sprawled over his desk. Rushing up to make sure the man still breathed, Gage had heard a plank in the floor creak under the weight of a heavy boot. Lantern light had played along the wall, revealing a shadow with an arm raised to strike.
Now Gage lay across a church pew staring up at the rafters high into the steeple tower as he fought the dizziness that blurred his vision. He tried to stir up the images lost after the crashing blow that had sent him hurling into oblivion.
With a moment of realization, he noticed daylight dancing through the sanctuary’s stained glass window. Gage sat up, trying hard to focus. The wooden pew creaked as he shifted his weight, remembering.
Someone had muttered Willow’s name in the moment before he’d been clubbed. A promise to make her pay. Then the crashing blow from a blunt instrument that brought nothing but pain.
