To Catch a Texas Star (Texas Heroes)

by Linda Broday

  A brief glance noted the lack of a gun belt or weapons.

  “I don’t know who did this, mister, but they sure meant to kill you. Whether you’re friend or foe, I can’t be sure, but we’ll sort it out after I get you to the ranch.” She gripped the shredded mess of his shirt, not surprised that a section came off in her hands.

  The stranger must outweigh her by a hundred pounds. Scraped flesh, visible through the rips and tears, suggested not an inch of fat on his long, muscular body.

  “Can you walk a little, mister? You’re too heavy to lift but I’ll help you to the buckboard. It’s no more than half a dozen steps.”

  The stranger attempted to rise without a word, only to fall back. Marley got behind him and pushed and slowly got the man to his feet. He shivered uncontrollably.

  “Put your arm around my shoulders,” she said.

  He gave a loud cry of pain but he did as she asked, leaning heavily on her and half-dragging his feet. One agonizing step at a time, they inched toward the bed of the buckboard. His teeth chattered from the cold, blood covered his face, and she kept urging him to put one foot in front of the other. They finally reached the wagon, and she tried to ease him up into the bed, but despite her care, he fell with a thud onto the boards. His scream pierced right through her. She reached for a blanket she’d thrown in that morning just in case, and as she tucked the heavy wool around him, she noticed he’d lapsed into unconsciousness.

  Marley stared at her gloves, slick with blood, but the only thing she had was her dress to wipe them on. Several hundred yards down the road, she spied a flat place to turn around.

  She mumbled a prayer as they raced toward the ranch. The pair of chestnuts hadn’t had such a workout in quite a while. She sped into the compound amid a cloud of dust, sending men running from everywhere.

  Her father reached her first. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  “No, not me. I found a man on the road. He’s in bad shape.” Marley hopped to the ground. “He needs a doctor. Bleeding something awful.”

  Duel McClain glanced into the buckboard. “That’s putting it mildly. Doc Henby is out of town and won’t be back for two weeks.” He grabbed a ranch hand. “Get my wife.” He turned back to Marley. “I don’t know where we’ll put him. Every nook, cranny, and spider hole is occupied.” He heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “The bunkhouse is also full and spilling over.”

  Marley met his gaze. “I have room. It makes sense to take him to my house anyway. He’ll need care, and I can sleep on the sofa.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t know. Are you sure you can handle this?”

  “Papa, I’m a grown woman.”

  “Even so, we don’t know who he is, and rustlers are running rampant over this entire area. He could pose a danger to you.”

  A gurgling noise came from the stranger’s mouth, and blood oozed from between his lips. They had to act. Duel turned to the ranch hands clustered around the wagon. “Carry him to Marley Rose’s house for now. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

  Marley raced ahead and held the door, then stood back as they carried him inside and gently laid him on the bed. A nice fire in the fireplace kept the dwelling warm, but still she placed a quilt over him.

  She didn’t know who the man was, but he must have had a powerful lot of enemies. His clothes were in tatters, and he had injuries every place she looked, especially his poor face. An entire strip of skin was gone along one side.

  Mitch, the ranch hand Duel had sent off to find her mother, rushed into the room. “Boss, Miz Jessie can’t come right now. One of the kids cut himself and blood’s everywhere.”

  Duel turned, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Marley Rose, put on water to warm in your kitchen and fetch supplies for this man from the main house. See if you can help your mama while you’re over there.”

  “Yes, Papa.” She rushed to the kitchen, filled a pail with water from the pump, and put it on to heat. That done, she hurried toward the ranch house.

  Her mother sat at the kitchen table, holding five-year-old Benji’s arm raised over his head. Blood had soaked his shirt and her mother’s apron. The boy was sobbing.

  “What happened, Mama?”

  “Benji was playing with a knife and sliced his hand open. I’m trying to get it stop bleeding so I can put some stitches in it.” She spared Marley Rose a worried glance. “What’s going on over at your place? Mitch just said you’d brought in a stranger who was badly hurt.”

  “I found a man on the road on my way to town. Not sure exactly how bad he’s hurt, but there’s a lot of blood. We need cloths and bandages.”

  “Go get the box that has all my medical supplies.” Jessie shifted Benji and glanced toward a baby’s weak cries that came from a nearby crib. The child was one of the new three-month-old triplets that Jessie had taken in after their mother had died in childbirth. Their father had quickly enlisted in the frontier army, not wanting to shoulder the burden of his offspring’s care.

  “I’ll see to her, Mama.” Marley patted the small back for a few minutes until the baby quieted, then rushed to the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen where her mother kept ointments, bandages, and the like. Between the children and accidents with the men on the ranch, the room often became a makeshift doctor’s office. Resting a hand on a box filled with what they’d need, she shot Jessie a questioning glance.

  “Go on,” Jessie said. “I can handle this little guy. I have a feeling your patient needs you worse.”

  Marley grabbed the box and headed for the door.

  “I’ll be out after I tend to these children.” Jessie lowered Benji’s arm to look at his hand. “For now, you’ll have to fill in for me. Seeing as you’re as skilled as I am by now, that shouldn’t be a problem—so long as you’re fine with it?”

  “Yes, Mama. I’ll do my best.” Marley rushed back to her little home. The water wasn’t hot enough yet, but it would have to do. They couldn’t afford to wait. Taking the pail from the stove, she carried it into the bedroom. Her father had stripped the man and covered him again with the quilt. The stranger lay so still, with his eyes closed. His croak for help back there on the road echoed in her head. She hadn’t heard him speak another word and maybe she never would.

  “Is he still unconscious?”

  “Yep. It’s a blessing.” Duel took the pail from her. “You can help with some of this, then I’ll finish.”

  She dipped a cloth into the tepid water and gently washed the blood from the stranger’s face. He was nothing but a mass of cuts and bruises, with skin peeled away on arms that seemed to have taken the brunt of whatever had befallen him.

  Duel gently applied some ointment to what appeared to be deep rope marks around their patient’s chest.

  “Papa, what do you think happened to him?”

  “I once saw a man after he was dragged behind a horse. This is what he looked like.”

  Her father’s quiet words struck fear in her. “Did he live?”

  “A few days.”

  A heavy ache filled her chest, bringing tears to her eyes. She couldn’t bear to think of this stranger’s hopes and dreams dying before he got to fulfill them. From what she could tell, he appeared no more than a few years older than she was. His hair, the color of an eagle’s wing, was a bit long but not shaggy. She got the impression he took pride in his appearance. More telling was his face. The hard lines and older scars indicated a life that had already been unkind. She placed her hand over his heart and felt the steady beat of a fighter. She imagined what he must look like whole and healthy. Surely, his high cheekbones and strong jaw marked him as a man who would stand up for his principles no matter the consequences. Maybe that’s what happened. The black fringe of his dark lashes was barely visible because of the swelling, but she prayed he’d open his eyes soon. Then she’d know for sure if they had a blind man on their hands.r />
  Her father rinsed out the cloth he was using and shot her a worried glance. “Honey, I really don’t know about you taking on his care.”

  “Who’ll do it if I don’t? We have no one else. Mama’s busy with the little ones, and the men have those rustlers to chase. Besides, the men can barely doctor a shaving nick. I’m the only one with the time and knowledge. Mama taught me well.”

  “I suppose you make a good argument. But I’ll never forgive myself if I put you in harm’s way.”

  Marley went to her father and slid her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. “I think you look for things to fret about when it comes to me or the children.”

  “You’re right.”

  “This stranger doesn’t appear to have a mean look about him. Besides, when he wakes up, he’ll be too weak to hurt me if he’s that kind of person.”

  Duel tightened his arms around her. “What about whoever did this? They might get wind he’s alive and come to finish him off.”

  “Then you can order the men to stay close.” She pushed out of his arms and returned to their patient. “I’ll be fine.”

  “All right. I’ll hush.”

  “I wonder if he has family.” She tried to brush back his hair only to encounter a sticky, matted mess. Once things had settled some, she’d wash it.

  Duel shifted beside the bed. The black Stetson he wore shadowed his amber eyes, the color of whiskey, so unlike her dark ones. Hers weren’t anything close to her mother’s blue shade either. She’d often thought it odd that she bore little resemblance to either parent. Maybe she was some kind of changeling child.

  “If he wakes up, we’ll find out about kin, and I’ll get word to them.” A cowboy came through the door and motioned her father aside.

  Though they spoke low, Marley caught the word rustlers, then something about stealing them blind. Worry on her father’s face shot fear into her. Was this man lying in her bed involved in something so awful?

  She raised her patient’s chin to wash the blood from his throat and noticed the thin cut from a sharp blade that ran from under one ear right across to the other. She sucked in a breath.

  No matter if he did have a hand in the rustling. He didn’t deserve this. No one did.

  Who was he, and who hated him so much that they’d try to end his life in such a horrific way?

  Three

  Marley sat beside the bed all through the first night. If her stranger passed on, he needed someone to hold his hand. The man deserved to know that at least one person cared. What little sleep she got came by resting her head on her arms on the quilt next to him, where any movement would wake her. But the man lay motionless and quiet, so still she’d occasionally put her cheek to his mouth to see if he breathed. Mourning doves cooed outside the window at daybreak, the sound making chills dance up her spine.

  She pushed back the curtain, and four gray birds perched on the ledge. They paid her no mind, continuing to make their mournful sound.

  A glance at the stranger showed no change. She laid a hand on his chest. “I’m not going to let you die. Get that through your head right now. I didn’t find you just to bury you.”

  Marley leaned over him and patiently sponged tiny amounts of water into his mouth, massaging his throat to make it go down. Keeping one eye on the bed, she fixed herself some breakfast, making a list of all the things she should do. Changing his bandages and checking for infection would come first. She’d helped her mother treat the cowboys over the years, and knew what to look for. Keeping the infection down would give him a chance to survive.

  Her father stopped by and stood over the bed, holding his hat in his hands. “His color seems a little better. Has he woken up yet?”

  “No. He hasn’t even moved. Except for his shallow breathing, I’d think he’s dead.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to shoulder this by yourself. Are you sure you want to?”

  “I’m sure, Papa. We’ve been over this.” Maybe her need to fix this stranger was because she had been the one to find him, and that made this connection so strong. All Marley knew was that she had to be the one to care for him.

  “Your mama said she’d be over after she got the kids off to school.”

  “Lord knows Mama has her hands full, but I welcome her assessment.” Marley changed the subject. “Are you heading out to look for the rustlers?”

  “I am.” Fire flashed in her father’s eyes. “If I catch the thieving bunch, I might be tempted to take the law into my own hands.”

  “You know you won’t, even as much as you want to.” Marley had never seen him kill anyone outright. He was the fairest man she knew, and he let the law and the court handle criminals.

  He sighed. “I know. But I think I’d sure be tempted this time.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I need to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back but—”

  “I’ll be fine,” Marley assured him. “I’m not some spineless little girl who wrings her hands and waits for someone to ride to her rescue.”

  Duel laughed. “Don’t I know.” He hugged her, put on his hat, and left.

  After washing her dishes, Marley warmed water and gathered the salves and sterile strips of cloth. The doves continued to coo outside the window, almost as if they were keeping watch over the stranger. In all the time she’d lived there, she’d never seen the birds crowd right up on her narrow ledge before.

  She removed the bandages on her patient’s chest and dipped a cloth into the water. Very gently, she washed away bright-red blood that had seeped from some of his wounds. There was no new redness and no sign of infection, thank goodness. When she had cleaned them and the slice around his throat, she reached for the healing salve.

  Her fingertips glided over his muscles and across his broad chest. His body was hard and lean, and showed the effects of backbreaking work. She lifted his hand, noticing calluses lining his palms and fingertips. More signs of strenuous labor.

  Listening to the doves through the windowpane, she stared at his horrible injuries and found tears lurking behind her eyelids. She laid a hand on his chest over his heart that beat weakly.

  How could anyone have been so cruel?

  She leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Get well soon.”

  The next hour found her unwrapping the bandages and applying fresh ones. The front door opened, and Marley turned, listening. A thumping noise followed, not the greeting she expected, and she went to investigate. Her mother was attempting to lift one of the children’s wagons over the threshold without waking the triplets inside.

  Once they’d freed a wheel, Jessie McClain glanced up. “Thank you, Marley Rose. I thought the wagon was a good idea but found otherwise once I got here.”

  “You didn’t have to come, Mama. I have things under control.”

  “I know.” Jessie smiled and pushed back the red strands of hair that had fallen forward in the exertion. “I just wanted to see how the man is doing.”

  “Come see for yourself,” Marley invited. “The babies will be all right here in the parlor. We’ll hear them if they wake up.” She didn’t like her mother’s tired eyes. She never got enough sleep these days.

  Jessie followed her into the bedroom. “I think I’m getting too old to take care of babies.”

  “What does Papa say?” Marley herded her mother into a chair and returned to her task of bandaging the stranger’s wounds, carefully applying one new linen strip after another.

  “He gripes a little but he gets up during the night to help feed them.” Jessie chuckled. “Somehow, he can’t quite get the hang of changing diapers. He seems to have forgotten all he ever knew when you were little.”

  “Mama, you need to stop taking care of so many children. It’s wearing you out.”

  “Who’ll do it if I don’t, Marley Rose? The need is so great, and folks don’t step up like they once did.”
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br />   Marley covered her mother’s hand with hers and met Jessie’s weary blue eyes. “You’re overworked, Mama. You can’t keep doing this. Your health will suffer and then Papa will leave you no say in the matter.”

  “I know. I’ll try to get more rest when the babies take naps.” Jessie swung her attention to the man in Marley’s bed, her quick eyes taking in the wounds that Marley had yet to rebandage. “I don’t see any infection setting in. That’s good. Did you get out all the dirt and small rocks that might’ve been deep in the cuts?”

  “I think so. I’ve washed each one very well several times.”

  “Good. The cut around his throat isn’t very deep, but it looks painful.” Jessie leaned over for a closer examination. “Why would someone torture a man this way?”

  “He has old welts crisscrossing his back,” Marley said softly. “Whoever he is, he’s had a hard life.”

  “It certainly appears that way.” Jessie shot Marley a strange look. “Don’t let yourself get too close. If he survives, he’ll more than likely up and leave. He could be a drifter, and those never stay in one place long.”

  “I’m just taking care of him as I would any hurt thing that came my way. I think we should keep an open mind until we have reason to think badly of him.” Marley rose and went to the window. The doves were still there. Were they waiting on something? She reined in her thoughts. “It’s not like you, Mama, to voice such negativity. What’s wrong?”

  “I just worry about you, dear. Women in your position, those who fear life has overlooked them—they tend to leap before they think. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Marley finished the last of the bandages and pulled the quilt over the unconscious stranger. “He’s an injured man, that’s all. Besides, he might not make it, so your worries could be in vain.”

  One of the triplets woke up, and Marley followed Jessie to take care of the babe. When a second began to cry, Marley lifted the small boy from the wagon. She and her mother sat and talked a bit, then Jessie rolled the little babies back to the house in the wagon.