by Jim Cox
After Jake was placed in an upstairs bed, Mrs. Douglas started her examination. “You men turn those lamps up and hold ’em close. I need all the light I can get.” Ten minutes later, she turned with a bewildered expression and gave her findings. “He’s in critical condition. He’s been severely beaten, and it looks as though he’s been kicked several times. He has lacerations over his entire body. The one on the back of his head will require twenty stitches…maybe more. It looks like three ribs have been cracked and one appears to be severely broken. It’s a wonder it didn’t puncture his lung.”
Mrs. Douglas paused and looked up at the bystanders with watery eyes. “But the worst crisis is his right leg. I can’t tell for sure and don’t know how it could have happened, but it feels like the femur bone has been broken completely in two and the end of one of the bones has been shattered into several pieces. The lower end of the broken bone has slipped to one side of the upper bone. We need to get the bones back in alignment and hope the bone fragments will migrate back to their original place between the broken ends. He’ll end up with a limp whichever way the leg heals, but if the bone fragments don’t go back to their rightful place, the leg will grow back a couple inches shorter, causing him to have a severe limp.” Mrs. Douglas didn’t mention her thought. The leg may have to be amputated.
The men looked at each other, knowing what was about to be asked of them. Mrs. Douglas took a deep breath, looked at the concerned faces around her, and fell into action. “Herb, hold his shoulders and don’t let him slide down while Bart and Thomas pull on his leg. Be careful not to further injure his ribs.” Nodding to Scar and Thomas, she said, “You two take hold of his right foot and pull sturdily until I have the bones back into place and give you a signal.” The men nodded their understanding and handed the lamps to Tony and Morning Sun. She then rolled up a piece of cloth, opened the unconscious boy’s mouth, put the roll between his teeth, and gave a nod.
After several minutes of strenuous pulling and twisting, the broken ends were finally back in alignment. While the men continued pulling, keeping the bones steady and in alignment, Mrs. Douglas placed six narrow, wood slats several inches long around the break and snuggly tied leather straps around them.
Jake’s thrashing and screams while his leg was being pulled were more than Rebecca could endure, so Liz went to her. When Scar saw his wife starting to break down too, he whispered to Betty to fetch wet washcloths and wipe the women’s faces.
Minutes later, after Rebecca had collected herself, Scar pulled her aside and asked what had happened. “There’s trouble in Flat Peaks,” she responded. “About mid-morning, some of the railroad’s survey crew showed up at the tavern and started drinking. They were peaceful at first, but an hour or so before supper, the liquor started having its effect. The drunks became poison mean, pushing their weight around. They shot up the town, took over the saloon, and beat up the customers before throwing them out. They even took advantage of the barmaids. Jake was at my house when the ruckus started, so he and the sheriff hurried out to calm things down. I followed them and watched the whole thing from an alley.
“When Jake and the sheriff got to the scene and started telling the hoodlums to calm down and stop their misconduct, one of the big brutes clobbered the sheriff over the head with his gun barrel and laughed as he drug him to the jail and locked him up. Three of the other men ganged up on Jake and beat on him for several minutes, kicking him over and over. After they finished kicking him, one of the huge men picked Jake up and slammed him down on the edge of the boardwalk, causing his right leg to break. I heard the loud crack and thought for sure they’d killed him. Eli came running to help Jake out, but they took his shotgun away and nearly stomped him to death. He’s at Jenny’s fighting for his life.”
“Why is he at Jenny’s? Why wasn’t he taken to the doctor’s office?” Thomas asked.
“The doctor is out of town on one of his circuits. The closest place away from the commotion was the café, so we took Eli and Jake there. Both Jenny and Mrs. Kaiser thought the best thing to do for Jake was to bring him out here to Mrs. Douglas. They said they could handle Eli’s injuries, but Jake’s was beyond their capability. They said Mrs. Douglas was almost as capable as a doctor and if anyone could help him, it would be her. After putting five blankets on my buggy’s floor to cushion Jake’s body, I took off.”
There was silence with worried eyes connecting. “How many railroad men are in town?” Scar asked as he straightened himself. “I counted six,” Rebecca answered.
Scar stepped off the porch and headed for the corral. Mr. Douglas, Thomas, and Tony followed. By the time Maude and the horses were saddled, Liz and Morning Sun were standing nearby. Faces were sober. Words weren’t spoken. They weren’t needed. Two-and-a-half hours later, the four men rode down the main street of Flat Peaks. It was dark and empty. They paused as they passed Jenny’s. A dim light shone through the dining room window, but its door was closed. They continued to the saloon. When they entered, five crusty-looking men were leaning on the bar, each with a foot on its rail. Each one had a gun hanging from his side. Another man behind the bar was pouring drinks. It was obvious the gigantic man wearing striped bib overalls was the leader. He was the one barking out orders.
“What do you want?” he shouted from across the room. “This here saloon is closed to everyone except railroaders…now get out.”
Scar motioned for the ranchmen to stay by the door as he started toward the troublemakers. “Are you deaf…didn’t you hear me?” the boss man bellowed. “I said to get out, and I ain’t gonna tell you again.”
Scar continued walking. When he was within ten feet of the group, he said in a firm voice, “I’m a Colorado marshal and you’re under arrest. Throw your guns on the floor, and put up your hands.” All six of the troublemakers laughed and then put on smug grins, sending a message to Scar they weren’t going to do a thing he said. But to their surprise, Scar walked closer. He was now only five feet from the boss bully. With a smile, the bully doubled his big fist and swung with all of his strength at Scar’s jaw. However, it was a roundhouse swing, which Scar ducked under as he threw a powerful right to the bully’s midsection. The bully swung again but missed, giving Scar the opportunity to throw a one-two punch to the sides of his head followed by an excruciating blow to his face, causing the man to stagger backward as blood splattered. The bully stood back for several seconds wearing a stunned expression. He stepped forward and took another swing. Scar caught the man’s fist in his left hand and then twisted his arm until he fell to the floor. After taking his gun, Scar put a shackle on the man’s right wrist and attached the other shackle to the bar’s foot rail. The bully’s friends hadn’t drawn their guns because they didn’t seem to comprehend their leader would get beaten.
Within minutes, the Double D men had disarmed the bullies and were taking them to the lockup. After the sheriff was released and the six hoodlums were behind bars, one of them called out, “Who are you, mister? I ain’t ever seen nothing like it before. No one’s ever come close to whipping him.”
“He got off easy. It’s a good thing he was fighting me instead of the man over there,” Scar said pointing to Mr. Douglas. “He only taught me half of what he knows.” The four Double D men turned and headed for Jenny’s to see their good friend.
Eli was lying on his back on one of the tables when they entered. White wrappings encircled his chest. A half-full whiskey bottle was close by. He seemed to be sleeping.
“He was beat up pretty badly. Took several kicks in the ribs. I believe two are cracked,” Mrs. Kaiser reported. “He’ll undoubtedly be all stove up for several days, but he’ll make it. He needs to stay in bed for a week to ten days so those ribs can heal. I doubt if he’ll listen to anything I say, though.”
“There ain’t no need of spending all that time in bed,” Eli coughed out with his hands over the broken ribs. “I’ve got work to do.” It was obvious it hurt when he talked, but he asked anyway, “How’s Jake?”
Scar didn’t whitewash a thing.
»»•««
Tony had been taking care of Eli and the livery for two weeks. The old man was starting to get around but unable to do the strenuous work of a livery, like climbing a ladder to the loft and pitching down hay, not to mention shoeing horses.
Jake’s progress was much slower. He was still flat on his back. The cut on his head had mostly healed, but his broken leg was still critical. It stayed swollen and reddish, but fortunately his blood circulation was still good. Oftentimes the pain became so severe he was forced to the bottle.
Rebecca served as his personal nurse. She stayed at his side during every waking hour and checked on him at night. She pampered him with treats, played cards and board games with him, and read to him. She kept his face shaved and hair trimmed and brought warm water with soap for washing. She stopped eating her meals at the family table and ate with him. Between meals, she brought coffee and snacks. Pie, apple butter on biscuits, or a couple of cookies that Morning Sun had baked.
The other women helped out, but Rebecca was the one who provided his regular care. Every morning and evening she removed his wrapping, put steaming hot cloths on the injury for thirty minutes to help with the pain and reduce the swelling, and after applying an ointment, re-wrapped his leg with clean cloths. At first, both she and Jake were embarrassed by her treatment of his injury because the site of the fracture was high up on his thigh, but that hesitation soon passed.
The doctor had come twice to evaluate Jake’s recovery. He said Mrs. Douglas had done everything possible for Jake and he couldn’t have done better. Each time he recommended that Jake remain in bed because the bones had not mended enough to have any pressured applied to them. For the bones to completely knit together, he explained, it would take a considerable amount of time, maybe three to five months.
The last few days of August were stressful because Rebecca had to leave the Double D the first day of September for her teaching job in Flat Peaks. The day of her departure was emotional. The women were edgy. The men had blank faces. When Rebecca walked out the front door and down the porch steps, her buggy was surrounded with folks who loved her. Thomas immediately took her suitcase and put it in the buggy, while Mr. Douglas helped her up onto the seat. Mrs. Douglas handed her a basket containing coffee and snacks. “I’ll be back before dark on Friday,” she said. She then snapped the driving reins, heading out.
The day after Rebecca left, Mrs. Douglas asked Betty to take Jake his meals and do a few small tasks for him. Within three or four days, Betty was doing most of what Rebecca had done for Jake, bringing his mid-morning and afternoon snacks and coffee, trimming his hair, and tending to his injury. They often played checkers and other board games. Occasionally, Betty would share her newly learned reading and writing skills. The two became good friends and relied on each other for advice and comfort. Whenever Jake became depressed over his injured leg and lack of activity, Betty could most often dispel the gloom with words about a bright future after his leg healed. Likewise, Jake gave Betty comfort when thoughts of her son’s and husband’s deaths plagued her. He’d talk about her schooling, learning to read and write, and the pretty dresses she had made.
It was late afternoon in the heat of the day when Mr. Douglas entered Jake’s room and took a chair beside the bed. “How are you doing today?” he asked.
“I’m okay, I guess. Nothing much has changed.” The room turned quiet.
“Mr. Douglas,” the young man eventually asked, “Do you think I’ll ever be able to walk?”
“Yes, I do. It may take a few months before you can put weight on your leg, but I’m sure you’ll be able to walk.”
“Will I have a bad limp?”
Mr. Douglas looked into the young man’s eyes, nodded his head and said, “Yes, Jake…you’ll have a limp. The doctor says it might be rather severe.” The boy turned his head toward the window.
But it wasn’t long before he turned back with another question. “Mr. Douglas, I’m supposed to talk with the bank president about the job they offered me. Could you tell him I want the job but that I’ll be laid up for a spell?”
“I’ve already talked with him, Jake. I’m sorry to bring you bad news, but he’s withdrawing his offer.”
It took a few moments for the answer to soak in. Then Jake said, “But they seemed anxious to hire me, Mr. Douglas. Is it because I’m bedridden and will have a bad limp they withdrew the offer?”
“They gave me several excuses, Jake. But I suspect you’re partly right. They want someone healthy who fits their mold.” They sat in silence.
The high-up cliff behind their house started to cast long shadows as the afternoon descended toward evening. Mr. Douglas lit a lamp. As he sat back down, he asked, “Have you and Rebecca discussed your wedding plans since you got hurt?”
“The wedding is off, Mr. Douglas. I’m not going to ask her. Who’d want to marry a cripple like me? I don’t even have a job.” The young man turned over. Mr. Douglas heard sobs as he let himself out of the room.
Chapter Twenty
The men were occupied from dawn to dusk with two remaining jobs they needed to finish before the fall weather hit, cutting hay and chopping firewood. They were both backbreaking jobs that lasted for two weeks from first light until dark. Douglas and Thomas were on the hay detail, cutting grass with scythes, letting it dry for five days, and then hauling it to the barn loft. Scar and Tony stayed busy pulling fallen trees to the woodpile where they trimmed off branches and cut the trees into two-foot logs with a crosscut saw. Afterward, the logs were split and stacked on the firewood pile.
Not many days after the hay was brought in and the firewood was stacked, Scar was awakened in the early morning by people talking. He hurriedly dressed and headed for the front porch. When he stepped outside, five Indians quickly greeted him with raised open palms. He reciprocated. “What’s going on?” he asked Tony and Morning Sun, who had been talking with the visitors.
“They’ve come to invite us to their camp for a celebration. They’ll be leaving for their winter home in two weeks and want to honor you before they leave.”
“Ask them if they’ve had breakfast.” The natives grinned and followed Morning Sun as she headed for the kitchen. The natives had nearly finished eating when Mr. Douglas and his wife entered. “We heard voices and thought we’d come down and see what was going on,” Mr. Douglas said.
“These men are our neighbors, Mr. Douglas,” Scar said. “They’ve come to invite us to a celebration before they leave for their winter camp.”
Mr. Douglas raised his palm and said, “Welcome to our home. We’re glad you came to visit. Are you getting enough to eat?” Immediately, Morning Sun translated his words. The natives smiled broadly as they rubbed their stomachs. Everyone laughed.
After a date had been set, Scar asked for directions, but Morning Sun quickly broke in, “I know the way. I will be the guide.”
August twenty-sixth, the day of the Indian celebration, started early for the Double D group. The morning began with a chill but soon warmed up considerably. Morning Sun led the group and Tony was close behind with a tethered horse. Liz was a few yards behind Tony. Scar was in the rear on Maude. The tethered horse carried personal items and gifts for their host.
By full sun, they had ridden over five miles on the Indian trace—the sun to their backs, a breeze in their face. At mid-morning, the group stopped at a creek to make coffee and rest their horses. By the time the coffee water was boiling, their hobbled horses had drunk their fill, attempted to roll, and were now grazing in a nearby patch of grass. Maude went unrestricted and kept to herself within easy calling distance.
Thirty minutes later, the group remounted and left the rest area heading north through a wooded valley that rose rapidly. After two or three miles, the terrain leveled off, easing the hill climb for the horse. They had rounded a bend when Maude stopped, her ears pointed. Scar whistled for the other riders to stop. Within minutes, a small group of natives
appeared from the trees fifty yards ahead and motioned for them to follow. They recognized the natives as the same ones who had come to the ranch.
Nearly an hour later, the Double D riders crossed a small river and were escorted through dozens of tepees on a treeless plateau. As they rode toward the chief’s tepee, dozens of natives appeared and fell into a parade-like formation to get a better look. Many of the children had never seen a pale-skinned person, and few in the crowd had seen red hair like Liz’s. But the main attraction was the big man with a facial scar who was riding a mule. They had heard many stories about Scar and his bravery, but what they admired most about him was the necklace he was known to wear. The one that once belonged to their great-grandfather chief. Even though the necklace was inside the big man’s shirt and out of view, they knew it was there against his heart. They had heard the stories. The riders stopped at an extra-large tepee in the center of the camp and were invited to dismount. One of the men who had guided them introduced the Double D clan to the waiting natives who were obviously influential tribal members. Liz and Morning Sun were led to a nearby, large circular area where sitting stones lined one edge. A split elk carcass was cooking over a fire in the center. After Liz and Morning Sun sat down on stones, native women quickly gathered around and started asking Morning Sun all sorts of questions about Liz and the other white people. The children stood in the background. When the women’s conversation slowed a bit, Liz raised her hand. The voices slowly stopped as all eyes fell on her. Then she requested through Morning Sun for the children to come close around her. At first, the children hung back with their eyes on their mothers, but after Liz motioned for them to come to her, they slowly came forward, one by one. Liz carefully sat a small girl on her lap and placed the child’s hand on her red curly hair while placing her own hand on the child’s straight black hair. The young girl looked up into Liz’s eyes with a big smile. Liz smiled back. Then Liz motioned for the other children to come and feel her hair. It was a simple gesture but one that impressed the native women. Even the men were impressed with the woman with red hair.
