by Don Bendell
Joshua said, “I don’t understand.”
She said, “Yes, you do. Shakespeare also said, ‘Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.’ Joshua, do you believe God put love in your heart for me?”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” he said.
She replied, “God puts all love in your heart. If He puts love for another in your heart, who are you to deny it?”
Strongheart had a lump in his throat and said, “What about you, Belle?”
She said, “You asked me if you are in Heaven. No, a little bit of Heaven is in you. It is in your heart, and I am in your heart and will always dwell there. I am very happy and safe now. You have much to give, and it is only right that you give it to another. You survive. That is what you do, and you save others. That is to you what breathing is to other men. Keep saving and keep loving, Joshua Strongheart. I will always be here for you, in your heart to call upon when you need me. Follow your heart. Your mind will lead you astray.”
* * *
He opened his eyes and blinked them. The sun was low in the western sky, hovering over the Greenhorn Mountains, far behind them now. Strongheart shook his head. His dream had been so real. It seemed like he was not dreaming. Moaning, he pulled himself into a sitting position and looked around. Wednesday was still sleeping. He touched her cheek, and it felt warm.
Zach looked back over his shoulder, saying, “Wal, Joshua, guess ya had yoreself a nice little nap, did ya?”
Strongheart said, “I was just dreaming—a very realistic dream. I even asked during the dream if I was dreaming.”
Zach said, “Reckon so. Ya was talkin’ ta Belle. Ya talked in yore sleep. Mentioned her name.”
“I talked in my sleep?” Strongheart said. “I never talk in my sleep. I cannot afford to. Might happen when I am sleeping close to an enemy.”
Zach replied, “Reckon so. I take it as a compliment. Ya woke up, knew ya was with me, and fell back asleep knowing ya was safe.”
Joshua said, “Makes sense. You have different horses. What happened?”
Zach chuckled, cracked the whip, and said, “Get up there, boys!”
Strongheart watched the horses break into a trot and could see the tops of some buildings in Pueblo in the distance.
Zach said, “I had them unhitch mah team and hitch up these stagecoach hosses thet was lent by the Wells Fargo boys. Ain’t that nice?”
Joshua smiled, and Zach continued, “Wal, I reckon you come waltzin’ into Westcliffe carryin’ this young lady in yore arms, barely able ta walk. Thet Scottie boy was ridin’ his big black and leadin’ Eagle fer ya. Eagle had thrown a shoe and had worn his hoof down to the frog jest about. All heart, thet horse is. You wouldn’t let thet horse carry ya one more mile, and ya walked carryin’ her fer several miles. The doctor treated all three of ya and said she had to get to the hospital quick. They was gonna send you down ta Cañon City by rail, then to Pueblo, then ta Denver.”
He chuckled and continued, “I said, ‘Gimme some faster horses and I’ll get him ta Pueblo quicker than any old trains can. It’s a straight shot, boys.’ They fetched me this team, doctor treated ya, and here we are.”
“Thanks, old-timer,” Joshua said. “Where is Scottie? Where is Eagle?”
Zach responded, “Reckon he is on his way down Grape Creek on the Rio Grande Line ta Cañon City. Bat Masterson come down outta the mountains and tole what happened. Said he would see Scottie ta home, and they’d make sure Eagle got stabled and fixed up with the blacksmith. Blacksmith here said he figgered Eagle would need ta rest his legs a bit and let thet hoof heal a few days before he got new shoes. He put some salve on it he swears by.”
“What about Scottie’s wound?”
Zach said, “Aw, it weren’t no more ’n a scratch. Doc patched him up and said he’ll have hisself a good ole scar for the womenfolk to carry on over. Tell you what, Strongheart, thet young man has some bottom to him.”
Strongheart grinned and thought about how proud he was of the man Scottie was becoming.
Joshua moved forward and sat down next to Zach.
Zach said, “Yer rifle, bedroll, and saddlebags are in the back there, and here’s yer rig.”
He reached under the buckboard bench and pulled out Joshua’s gun belt with his pistol and large knife. Joshua nodded in appreciation and put them on. He tried to stretch his leg out. He had never had his hip hurt so badly.
“I tole Bat Masterson who yer boss is, and he is sending him a telegraph when he gets ta Cañon City,” Zach said. “He also said ta tell ya not ta worry about thet Scottie boy, as he and Doc Holliday will keep an eye on him whilst they’re in town.”
“Boy, oh, boy,” Strongheart said. “Zach, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your friendship, and it looks like I made some good friends in Bat and Doc, too.”
Zach said, “Young man, reckon ya really don’t know how many people ya got coverin’ yer back door. I ever tell ya of the ole boy who had friends watchin’ out fer him?”
Joshua laughed and said, “No, but I suspect you will.”
Zach said, “There was this ole boy that had run outta luck and had a posse of fifteen chasin’ him. You know the Mogollon Rim country down New Mexico way?”
Strongheart said, “Yes, sir.”
Zach went on, “Well, this ole boy was holed up there down at the Mogollon Rim with his gang. From what I understan’, this ole boy and his amigos went into a bank down there near the border and took upon themselves ta make a large bank withdrawal. That woulda been okay, ’ceptin’ they didn’t have no deposit or funds sittin’ in the bank at the time, only a strong desire to make a quick withdrawal. Wal, they reckoned they could do it quicker by drawin’ their hoglegs and wearin’ kerchiefs over their faces in case too much dust was stirred up by the eagerness of them bank employees to oblige their request.”
Joshua, despite his pain, was laughing already, and they were now riding into the western outskirts of Pueblo.
Zach continued, “So this posse formed that was not appreciative of this ole boy’s banking practices. They come out to give him and his gang their comeuppance. So, after some lead flying back and forth, he stuck out a flag of truce. He told his gang to cover his backside fer him whilst he tried to parley with the lawmen. He goes walking out with that flag, which happened to make a good target, and the next thing ya know, the marshal grabs iron and opens up the ball. This ole boy was shot ta doll rags, and crawled back to his gang, near dead. He said, ‘You boys tole me ya was coverin’ my backside fer me. What the hell happened?’
“One a them outlaws said, ‘We did, boss. All a them bullet holes are in yer front. Ya ain’t got a single hole in yore backside.’”
Strongheart chuckled, then laughed hard.
He said, “Zach, you sure have a way with a story.”
Banta grinned at him.
* * *
An hour later, the wagon pulled up to the Pueblo train depot, and two Pinkerton agents appeared out of the crowd. Strongheart knew them both.
They shook with Joshua, who introduced them to Zach Banta.
Jules Carter said, “We’ve been down here a week. Lucky sent us down to investigate V. R. Clinton for you, and we weren’t able to come up with much. Then we heard from Lucky that V. R. stands for Victoria Roberta Clinton.”
Strongheart said, “Yes, and she is a looker who will steal your heart as easy as you please. Of course, while she is doing that, she will reach back and steal your wallet, your pocket watch, the watch fob, and the jingle-bobs off your spurs if they are made of anything other than steel.”
The men chuckled.
Jules said, “We have orders from Chicago and have a nurse. She just went to get coffee and will accompany you and your lady friend to the hospital in Denver. The company hired her to be your personal nurse. Boy, I never saw an Injun that beautiful before. Come to think
of it, Strongheart, that has to be about the most beautiful face I have ever seen on any woman.”
Joshua responded, “Her Lakota name is Wiya Waste. It means ‘beautiful woman.’ I call her Wednesday. That name will make it easier for her dealing with white people.”
Jules said, “The hospital in Denver is expecting you both, and they have people ready to operate on her right away. I guess one person gave Lucky some guff about Wednesday here being an Injun, and he telegraphed some doctor that took care of him before.”
Strongheart laughed, thinking about when Lucky was lingering near death in the same hospital. He’d had a good doctor, because Joshua had had him before, too.
Jules went on, “I guess this doctor lit into that woman like a marmot after a prairie dog and tore her hide into several shreds. She’s looking for a new job somewhere besides Denver, I’ll bet.”
Strongheart knew that Jules was going to tell him she was fired. Wednesday’s concerns, and his little concern about her being treated poorly, proved to be unnecessary. He sure appreciated his boss and realized again how fortunate he was to have so many friends.
On the train, able again to relax, he fell asleep in the private car reserved for Wednesday and him by Allan Pinkerton himself. Joshua was so tired by the time they were loaded on the train, he did not even hear the name of the nurse, which was Teresa Williams—a very nice, caring person with blond hair and a pleasant smile. He did remember that.
The Union Pacific Railway Hospital was located near York Street and Fortieth Avenue in Denver, Colorado. A two-and-a-half-story, rusticated stone structure with dormers, it had nine chimneys that Joshua had counted the last time he was there. He and Wednesday were brought there by ambulance after the train arrived at Union Pacific Station downtown.
Joshua was taken into the hospital in a wooden wheelchair, and he saw Wednesday being carried in on a stretcher. Nurses and doctors were scurrying in and out of doorways, and Joshua got up slowly out of his chair and started down the hallway. He spotted a doctor behind a desk and hobbled into his office.
The doctor, a gray-haired, distinguished-looking man with a well-trimmed beard, did not even greet him but instead hollered, “Nurse! A chair!”
Seconds later, a nurse appeared in the doorway pushing another wooden wheelchair, and the doctor said, “Sit down,” not “Would you please sit down?” or anything close, but a firm command.
Joshua collapsed into the chair and said, “Doctor, the young lady, the Lakota woman who was brought in just now—I need to speak to her doctor.”
The doctor said, “That is me. I am Thaddeus Wintergarden, and I know who you are, Mr. Strongheart. What is her name?”
Strongheart said, “Wednesday.”
The stern-looking doctor smiled.
He said, “Now there is a name. I like that.”
Joshua said, “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You mean to tell me you named her that?”
Strongheart said, “Yes, the other day. Her Lakota name—Lakota is what you white men call the Sioux—is Wiya Waste, which means ‘beautiful woman.’ I called her Wednesday because it sounds close.”
“Very clever,” the doctor said. “Well, my goal will be to call her Healthy Woman when she leaves here, instead of Beautiful Woman. Now, what is your question?”
Joshua smiled broadly and said, “You’ve already answered the question, Doctor.”
“No more getting out of chairs when you are placed in them, Mr. Strongheart.”
Strongheart said, “Call me Joshua, please. I will be a good patient. Just take good care of her.”
The doctor said, “We will be operating on her shortly. Probably will operate on you right after. A nurse will take you to your room, and I will be in to see you soon. Take a nap while you wait.”
Strongheart was not used to be being bossed around, but saw that this man was accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. He would cooperate fully, as he respected the doctor.
* * *
He opened his eyes and looked around. It was night outside, and his eyes closed again while he slipped back into a deep, comfortable sleep.
The next time Joshua opened his eyes, it was daytime. He stretched, and Dr. Wintergarden walked in the door.
His stern look changed to a pleasant smile, and he said, “Good morning, Joshua. How are you feeling today?”
Strongheart said, “Honestly, Doctor, I am hoping this is the last time I ever spend a night at this hospital.”
The doctor grinned and replied, “A night? You arrived here three days ago.”
Joshua was shocked to hear he had been there three days.
The doctor continued, “I was told you carried Wednesday in your arms for several miles. You were shot through your hip and had part of your hip bone nicked away, and a sliver of bullet was lodged in the injured hip bone. How were you able to overcome the pain you must have been in?”
Strongheart said, “I didn’t do anything, Dr. Wintergarden, but how is Wednesday?”
The stern look returned. “Not good, I’m afraid. She has had a serious infection and lost a lot of blood, which has left her weak. I think we have the infection healing. I had to make a few incisions to let her bleed out some of the infection and have used a honey salve. You did an excellent job on her wound, and the bullet passed cleanly through, it seems.”
Joshua said, “Then what is wrong?”
The doctor said, “It is touch and go. I just don’t know. She has a strep infection, but I think it is subsiding. Her fever is gone, but she is weak and cannot even sit up yet. She has been awake several times, but it is almost like she has lost the will to live. I wish I knew how to snap her out of it.”
Strongheart said, “Can I see her?”
The physician said, “Of course. Her room is next door, and the nurse just told me she has been opening her eyes a bit. Hold on.”
He walked to a closet in the corner, opened the oak door, and pulled out a pair of crude wooden crutches, which were actually two long sticks with padded handles to go under the armpits. The bottom of each crutch had a tight leather boot stitched around it.
Strongheart walked over to a window in the hallway and looked out at the mountains. He wished desperately to be there right now—anywhere but here. He thought about his mother’s death and how close he had been with her. She was only fifteen when he was born, but she never acted like a girl. She was always a strict, loving mother who would not baby him and made sure he got plenty of education, and she left him early. He remembered visiting her in the hospital and begging her not to give up, not to give in to the consumption, but the disease was too much for her. It actually made him feel worse that she had left him a very large estate. Joshua Strongheart was rich, but he had his money in banks and investments and had sought out a career, and he loved the work he chose with the Pinkerton Agency. Strongheart looked out at the mountain range west of Denver and the snowcapped peaks. He said a silent prayer and asked God to give him the right words to save this woman’s life.
He limped into the room of Wiya Waste. He smiled as he looked around. She was used to living in a bison-hide teepee, and here she was in a room that looked like it had been a doctor’s office that was converted into a patient’s private room. It had fancy wallpaper on the walls, and sheer drapes, valances, and curtains on the windows. He appreciated the treatment she was being afforded.
Strongheart pulled a chair over to her bedside and leaned his crutches against her bed as he sat down stiffly in the straight-backed chair. A nurse was in the room, but he waited until she finished placing bandaging, iodine, and the like. The beautiful Wednesday lay there on her side, curled up in the fetal position. He touched her, and for the first time since she had been shot, she did not feel warm to the touch. Her color was better, but she looked like she was ready to die. The nurse left.
Joshua said, “Wiya Waste. W
iya Waste, hau. Tókheškhe yaúŋ he?” Which means “Beautiful Woman, Beautiful Woman, hello. How are you?”
Her eyelids flickered, but she kept her head on her pillow and looked at him and closed her eyes again.
He moaned and said, “Tóhaŋni waŋžíla iyápi iyóhi šni yeló,” which means, “One language is never enough.”
He said, “Please open your eyes. I have to tell you something very, very important.”
Inside her brain, she secretly felt that he was about to tell her on behalf of the doctor that she was going to die, and he was going to tell her good-bye. She also did not want to open her eyes, as it felt so good to just rest and not fight anymore. This was all so foreign to her, and the infection made her feel so bad. She had seen so many Lakota die of infections over the years, and she was so weak and sick when she came in that she just assumed she was going to make the journey.
With her voice very weak, she spoke slowly, saying, “Hau, Wanji Wambli, híŋhaŋni lahči,” which meant, “Hello, One Eagle, good morning.”
Strongheart said, “Can you keep your eyes open and look at me, so I know you are hearing every word I say?”
The beauty said, weakly again, “Yes.”
She kept her eyes open readily, since looking at this man with love in her eyes had been her favorite thing to do since she was four or five years old. He was her hero then and had remained so her whole life. In fact, her love for him had grown over the years more rapidly than her age advanced.
Strongheart said, “Have you not told me many times that you love me?”
Her eyes opened wider and her voice was a little stronger as she said, “Yes, yes, Iyótaŋčhila, Joshua!” Which means, “Yes, yes, I love you, Joshua!”
“Do you love me a lot?”
She wondered why he was saying this, but responded with an even stronger voice, “Yes, I love you very, very much. Why?”
Strongheart looked at the wall, then back at her, saying, “I want to ask you to do something for me because you love me. You probably will not want to do it, but I am asking you to do it for me. Will you do whatever I ask, because it is for me?”
