by Barbara Goss
He tried to shake the feeling off by deciding to look Daisy up. He laughed out loud, even though he was alone. He was involved with two flowers: a Rose and a Daisy. Only Daisy and her quick wit could rid him of this mood he had shadowing him since he’d left the cemetery. He’d meant to pay his respects to a beloved minister, not compromise his daughter.
After grabbing a bite to eat at the local restaurant, he went to the Horseshoe Saloon, where Daisy walked right over to him.
“You look as if you could use some of my secret medicine tonight, Quinn.” She winked.
“I sure could,” he answered. “I need cheering up. A dear friend passed away, and it has me feeling blue.”
“You’re in luck, because I’m going to tell Joe I have a headache, so I can leave early. It won’t be a lie, 'cause you will be my headache.”
“And that’s why I get the sweet medicine, right?”
“Right. Have a few drinks and I’ll meet you at your place around ten,” she said.
Quinn nodded.
He should have been thrilled that Daisy was going to make love to him later that night, but unexpectedly it didn’t sweeten his mood one bit. All he saw in his mind were Rose's big blue eyes. Now he knew who Daisy reminded him of: Rose—except Daisy’s blue eyes were cold and shrewd. He knew she used him for her physical pleasure, but what the heck? He was using her, too. There was no love between them, just pure lust, but lustful kisses weren’t as sweet or as moving as the innocent, meaningful kisses from Rose. Rose kissed out of pure love. Just thinking about his time with her made his whole body respond. His stomach lurched, his heart skipped a beat and…everything reacted.
Maybe he thought it was time to trade Daisy in for a new saloon woman. He was probably just getting tired of her. After tonight, he’d start to look around.
He drank enough at the bar to give himself a good whirl, and then he walked the short distance home. When he sat on his sofa, all he could do was think about Rose, so he took out his hidden bottle of Brandy, and drank almost half of it. He laid on the sofa and awaited Daisy with less anticipation than ever before.
He’d just started to dose off when she came in. He tried to shake off his drowsiness, but then he realized that she hadn’t come alone.
Quinn sat up like a flash. “Who’s in blazes is that?” he asked Daisy.
“Relax, Quinn, it’s just my husband. He’s going to join us.”
“Oh no! Get out, both of you!” He stood. “Out!”
The “husband” took out his gun. “Your money, please! Just put it on the table.”
Quinn looked at Daisy with confusion. “What’s going on, Daisy?”
“Daisy?” the man laughed. “Is that the name you used, Liza?”
“Yeah, it was part of our game,” Liza said. “Do as my husband said and put all your money on the table.”
Quinn sighed. He pulled a wad of money from his pocket and laid it on the table. “There. Take it and leave.”
“Not so fast, lover boy,” the ‘husband,’ said. “I want the keys to your livery too.”
“You’re joking!” Quinn exclaimed. “What for?”
“Just toss them to me, sweetie,” Liza said. “We want to borrow a few horses.”
Quinn just stood there, unsure of what to do, his mind boggled with drink. Had he been completely sober, he might have outsmarted them some how. He heard the click of the revolver’s hammer and threw the keys to Liza. She caught them. They started to back out of the door when the “husband” stuck his arm back in, and shot three times, hitting Quinn twice.
Chapter 5
Quinn fought to stay conscious. He crawled to the door, bleeding from his stomach and leg. He managed to crawl slowly down the steep stairs to the ground floor. He finally reached the door at the bottom of the stairs leading to the street, but it was difficult to open. He struggled with the door latch for several minutes, again wishing he hadn’t had so much to drink. He could barely reach the handle.
Finally, the door snapped open and he lay sprawled on the wooden walk. No one was nearby to call to for help, but someone had left a horse tied nearby. He had no choice—he crawled over to it, and untied it.
Now that he’d untied the horse, he had no idea how he’d get onto the horse. He tried several times, but he was feeling dizzy, and knew he would soon pass out, or maybe even die.
A drunk staggered by. Quinn hailed him, by saying as loudly as he could: “Help!”
The drunken man said, “Had too much to drink, fella? I know the feelin’. Let me give you a hand.” The man hoisted Quinn clumsily onto the horse, and Quinn bit back a scream of pain.
“Thank you,” Quinn croaked.
“Anytime,” the drunk mumbled as he walked away. “Been there meself…”
Quinn wanted to check his livery to see what they’d taken, but knew his time was short, and he had to ride for help. He pointed the horse toward Jonas’s place, and he’d nearly reached it, when he felt everything going dark. He slumped over the horse’s neck, and felt the horse continue down the lane to Jonas’s house, just before he met with total blackness.
Rose’s mother, Lavinia, was a strong woman. She set out to bring the girls through the hardest time of their young lives: dealing with their dear father’s death.
“Your father served his time on earth, and you know he worked for God. God must have thought he’d done enough and deserved a rest, or perhaps he needed him in heaven,” she said to them. “Your father once told me he wished he could die in his sleep, because he wasn’t afraid of death, just the dying part.” She smiled. “We laughed over that, but, he got his wish or maybe he’d prayed for it.”
“It leaves us with sadness, though,” Ivy said. “He won’t even get to see my baby when it’s born.”
“How do you know he won’t?” her mother asked. “We have no idea what heaven is like, and if God allows the souls to peek at things. I’d like to think he’ll see the baby,” she said as she patted Ivy’s hand. “When a Christian dies, it’s time to rejoice, not cry, because we know where he or she is—with God.
“Your father always took care of us. He never let us down, just as our Father in Heaven does. Human’s die, but God, the Father will never die. He will continue to take care of us in your father’s place.” She smiled slightly. “Ivy, you have Jonas to look after you. Violet, you have Miles, and your teaching career.” She hugged Rose. “And Rose, you still have me, and soon you’ll also meet someone who’ll take care of you.”
“But Mother,” Violet said, “it hurts inside every time I think about never seeing father again. I just can’t bear it.”
“You will see him again. Someday we’ll all be together again. Do you think your father would want you to be grieving overlong for him? No, he’d want you to get on with your lives and enjoy life while you have it, because we never know when our turn will come.” She stood. “You will wear black for six months; I will wear it for a year. It’s what he’d want. He loved you girls, and he wouldn’t want you grieving any longer than that.”
Lavinia left the room, and the three daughters of Hiram Jeffries sat in thought. “She’s right, you know,” Rose said. “Father only wanted the best for us.”
“We have such fond memories to carry with us,” Ivy said.
Violet sighed. “I was going to ask for his advice about my life, but I waited too long to ask.”
“Ask me, or Mother,” Ivy said.
“Well, I love Miles, and he's been patiently waiting for me to set a wedding date, and father’s death gives me a way of stalling it. I want to teach. There'll be an opening in Salina in September, and then I don’t know what to do. Miles loves his job at the bank, especially since he just got a huge promotion, and he wants me to give up teaching and just be a wife. I want to teach as much as I want to be his wife. I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, dear!” Ivy said. “That is a problem. Are you sure you love teaching as much as you love Miles?”
“Yes.”
�
��I suggest that you teach for one year, come home on holidays, and ask him to wait. Then decide,” Ivy said.
“I’d marry Miles and wait for a job to open here. Love sometimes only comes around once,” Rose said.
“Why, Rose,” Ivy exclaimed. “What an interesting way of solving the problem. What do you think, Violet?”
“Rose, you are such a romantic. I’ll seriously consider doing just that. I hope you find love soon yourself.”
“Oh, I already have, but it’s hopeless, I’m afraid.”
“What and who?” Ivy asked.
“I’ve been in love with Quinn Iverson since I first laid eyes on him,” she said.
“Oh dear!” Violet exclaimed.
“Oh dear is right,” Ivy said. “Isn’t he a bit old for you?”
“Love has no age,” Rose said.
“What about his indulgences in town?” Ivy asked.
“That’s one of the reasons why it’s hopeless, the other is that he thinks he’s too old for me, but, how do you fall out of love with someone?” Rose asked.
“I’m sure you’ll meet someone who’ll make you forget Quinn,” Ivy said. “We’ve all had our crushes on older fellows. I once thought I loved our minister in Topeka.”
“Well, Ivy, he was handsome, if I recall,” Violet said.
“Yes, he was.” Ivy and Violet laughed, but Rose did not.
“C’mon Rose, you’ll meet someone else soon and forget all about Quinn,” Ivy said. “You’ll see.”
Jonas was still in the stables helping a mare drop a foal. He was just cleaning up when he heard a horse trotting up the lane. He knew Ivy had just returned from her mother’s house, so maybe it was a late visit from Caleb. He finished drying his hands, blew out the lantern, and walked out to meet his visitor.
He saw no one at first, just a horse. As he walked closer, he saw a body hanging down from the saddle, and he rushed over. He still had no idea who it was as it was dark, but he pulled him off the horse and carried him into the house.
Ivy had left a light on in the kitchen for him before she’d gone to bed, so he laid the man down on the kitchen floor, and turned him over.
“Quinn!”
He didn’t know what to do. Should he leave him and run for a doctor, or try to treat him? He couldn’t send Ivy because she was pregnant.
He started to rip off Quinn’s clothes to see how badly he’d been hurt. He discovered a bullet in his upper stomach, off to the left, and a hole in his thigh. He ripped the material of his own shirt and tightly wrapped it around his wounds to try to stop the bleeding.
He hated to do it, but he had no choice. He ran up to the bedroom and opened the door to find Ivy in bed. “Are you asleep?” he whispered.
“No, not yet, I was saying my prayers,” she answered.
“I need you downstairs. Please hurry,” he said before dashing back down the stairs.
Ivy appeared in the kitchen minutes later with a bathrobe tied around her protruding stomach.
“It’s Quinn. He rode in hurt. I need to go for a doctor. Can you stay with him while I’m gone?”
“Of course, but why don’t you put him in a bed. How about the spare room downstairs?”
“Good idea. Lead the way, open the door, and pull down the bed.”
Ivy did as he asked, and Jonas laid his friend onto the spare bed. Ivy lit a lamp.
“I’ll sit here with him. Is there something I should be doing while you’re done?”
“No, I tied his wounds pretty tight. You might check them occasionally to make sure he isn’t bleeding too badly. I’ll ride like lightning.”
Jonas returned with Doc Watson. He’d tried to get Doc Harris, but he was out on a call. Luckily Abilene now had several doctors.
The doctor sent them both from the room. Jonas insisted that Ivy go back up to bed. “There’s nothing more you can do, darling.” He kissed her forehead. “Pray for Quinn. It doesn’t look good.”
“I will,” she said, and went up the stairs.
Jonas paced the hallway, while he anxiously awaited the doctor’s verdict. All the memories of the good and bad times they’d had together flooded his mind. When the doctor opened the door, Jonas spun around.
“How is he?”
The doctor shook his head. “I don’t think he’ll make it. He’s lost enough blood already, and I need to get the bullets out. If I do surgery now, he’ll lose even more blood.” The doctor sighed. “If I don’t get the bullets out, they’ll definitely cause an infection.”
“So you’re saying that, regardless, we have to remove the bullets?” Jonas asked.
“Yes, and I have to do it right away. Does he have any family to notify?”
“His parents and sister left for Texas last week to visit their oldest daughter.”
The doctor removed his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt. “What is your relationship to him?”
“I’m his…his best friend.”
“Then you should make the decision.”
Jonas sighed. “Get the bullets out, of course.”
“I’ll need your assistance,” the doctor said.
“I’ll do whatever is necessary.”
The doctor had a bottle of whiskey in his case, but since Quinn was still unconscious he didn’t use it.
“Before I get started,” the doctor said, “you might want to pray the bullet in his gut didn’t penetrate any vital organs.”
Jonas held Quinn down by his shoulders and prayed, while the doctor dug deep into Quinn’s stomach.
As he dug, Quinn began to squirm, moan, and he kept trying to sit up. Jonas struggled to keep him down.
“Quick,” Doc said, “grab that bottle of whiskey and pour some down his gullet.” After Jonas accomplished that, Quinn fell into a deep sleep again.
Jonas followed all of the doctor’s directions. Shortly thereafter, Doc dropped the bullet into Jonas’s hand. “Got it,” he said. Jonas handed Doc the bottle when he asked for it. Doc grabbed it and poured some of the contents onto his wound. “He got his liver nicked, but it'll regrow itself. No harm done.
“I’ll stitch him up, and then we’ll do his leg.”
“What’s the prognosis, Doc?” Jonas asked.
“If he doesn’t get a fever indicating an infection, I’d say he has a fifty-fifty chance.”
Jonas watched the doctor fish around inside of Quinn’s thigh.
“The bullet missed his bone. This here’s one lucky man. Is he a prayin’ man, too?” Doc asked.
“Sort of,” Jonas said.
The doctor pulled the bullet out, and washed out the wound with more whiskey. “We’ll need clean cloths—clean as you got—to wrap around his wounds.
“Ivy just boiled several pieces of old flannel. She’d planned to make diapers out of them, but, I’m sure she won’t mind if we use it.” Jonas ran to get the flannel.
After Quinn's wounds were wrapped, the doctor packed up his case. “Try to give him fluids, keep him quiet, and watch for a fever. I’ll stop back in a day or two. If you need me sooner, come and get me.”
Jonas turned off the light in Quinn’s room, and joined his wife in bed.
The first thing in the morning, both Jonas and Ivy peeked in on Quinn. “He’s still out,” Jonas whispered.
Ivy nodded and led her husband into the kitchen. “Do you think we should send Zoe to one of her grandparents?”
“It might be a good idea. I think my father’s place would be best, since your mother and sisters are still in mourning.”
“I’ll make coffee and breakfast. Could you pack Zoe up, and take her to your father’s?”
“Sure. I’ll pack some toys, too.”
“And enough clothes for a week,” Ivy added. “Wait!”
Jonas swung around and returned for his next order.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he said, and kissed her again.
“No matter how stressful life get
s, we can’t ever forget to show our love for each other,” Ivy said.
Jonas smiled and blew her a kiss as he scurried off to take care of packing Zoe for her visit.
The house was quiet now. Ivy was upstairs resting, and Jonas was reading a book as he sat by Quinn. He hadn’t stirred much, but his head felt cool.
Jonas squeezed a wet cloth to his lips now and then, to keep him hydrated. He’d feel more relieved if Quinn would just wake up. Jonas didn’t even know who’d shot him.
Mid-afternoon, Ivy came down and peeked in. “How is he?” she whispered.
“No change, but he’s still cool.”
Ivy came in and stood by the bed. “I’m wondering if I should let my sister know.”
“Violet?” Jonas asked.
“No.” She hesitated, “Rose.”
“Why in the world would we tell Rose?”
“She’s in love with him,” Ivy said, biting her bottom lip.
“Hell’s bells!” Jonas exclaimed. “You’re joking.”
“No. She confided it just last night. She said she’s loved him since she first laid eyes on him.”
Ivy came over to stand behind Jonas’s chair. She massaged his neck and shoulders. “What do you think?”
“You took me by surprise. Let me digest this for a bit.”
She continued kneading his shoulders, “I’ll make you some lunch,” she said, dropping a kiss on the back of his neck.
“Ivy,” he said, as she was about to disappear out of the doorway.
She turned and raised her eyebrows.
“I love you,” he said.
“Even with my bulging figure?” she asked.
“Even more because of it. How much longer now?”
“Three weeks, or so.”
“Did your mother have any problems giving birth?” he asked, worry evident on his face.”
