by Addy, Alice
Now that he was on his feet, the cobwebs were slowly clearing from his head and he could think more rationally. His pain was overwhelming and all consuming, but he knew he had to find out what had started the fire, in the first place. Emily was smart and careful. He knew she couldn’t have been responsible. Blake looked around and saw no obvious cause. At morning’s first light, he’d start searching for clues and he’d recover Emmie. He couldn’t rest until he saw her buried proper.
Returning to his perch by the trough, Blake sat down and closed his eyes, willing the sun to rise as quickly as possible and chase away the damnable darkness.
* * *
Dora set the sandwiches in the center of the kitchen table, while Cassie poured four cups of strong black coffee. No one felt much like eating, but they could not sleep, either. The events of today were indescribably horrible and too painful to think about. How could their Emily be dead? It had only been the day before, when they had all been together. The four of them sat in silence, trying to come to terms with their own grief.
Grunting like a much older man, Whiskey stood up and sniffed. “I’ve got to attend to the team and check out that old wagon. It was a hard trip, out there and back.” Looking at Dora with concern in his eyes, he smiled, “You go on up to bed, darlin’. I’ll be along soon.” He sniffed once again, and headed for the stables.
Dora watched Whiskey go. “He doesn’t want us to see how badly this has affected him. He loves all of you girls as if you were his very own. I guess I do too.” She smiled. “My heart just breaks for the doc. His whole life was wrapped up in Emily. It just ain’t fair.” Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks, once again.
Patty cleared her throat. “Well, I think Cassie and I need to go up stairs and try to get some sleep. I expect the next several days will be a nightmare. I just can’t imagine planning Em’s . . .” She couldn’t complete the sentence.
Cassie took Patty’s hand and smiled. “I’ll help you, Patty. You don’t have to do it all by yourself. I’ll get word to Eve.”
The two women got up from the table and walked, hand in hand, up the stairs with Tippy following quietly behind them. He’d been sitting patiently, at Cassie’s side, since their return.
“I’ll put out the lights and clean up in the mornin’,” Dora muttered to herself, when suddenly the kitchen door burst open, scaring her out of her wits. Instead of Whiskey standing there, a half-crazed bear of a man stood unsteadily on his feet, using the doorframe to hold himself up. He was clearly dangerous and in pain. Blood covered his shirt and he reeked of smoke.
Dora squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. She’d show him he couldn’t push her around. “What do you want?” she asked with authority.
“I need some money and I knows you got it.”
God, he smelled awful and he looked worse. “Money? Do I look like a bank to you? You’re drunk! Go find someplace to sober up or I’ll get the sheriff.”
He took a menacing step toward Dora. “You know who I am?”
“No, and I don’t care to know. Now I want you out of here,” she insisted, balling her fists on her substantial hips.
Upstairs, Tippy was growling and scratching at the door they had just closed. Cassie was puzzled. “Tippy! What’s gotten into you?”
“He acts as if he needs to go out. You get ready for bed, Cassie. I’ll take him downstairs for you.” As Patty approached the door, the little dog went wild. “Calm down, Tippy. Don’t you have an accident on the rug.”
No sooner had Patty turned the knob, than the little dog rushed between her feet and flew down the stairs, barking as if the hotel had caught fire. The hair on the back of Patty’s neck stood on end. Tippy didn’t have to go outside. He ran the opposite direction. Something was clearly wrong. She looked back at Cassie and knew she felt the same thing. Without saying a word, they ran down the stairs, following Tippy to the kitchen, and heard a gunshot, followed by the yelp of a little dog.
Cassie’s face went stark white. “Tippy!” she screamed, as she surged past Patty. Both women came to a sudden halt when they saw the little dog lying motionless on the kitchen floor, blood pooling beneath his brave little body.
Cassie was suddenly overcome with a mind numbing hatred for the one responsible for this. She looked up and discovered Emily’s pa holding a gun to Dora’s head.
“Come in ladies. This ol’ gal needs yer help. I need yer money to get outta’ town in a hurry. Now, you . . .” He waved the gun around at Patty. “You get all you got and bring it back. I’ll give you two minutes a’fore I shoot the pretty little blonde. And I’ll do it too. After all, if I can let Emily burn up . . . I can shoot this one. That little bitch tried to poison me. Luckily, I got sick and threw most of it up. She deserved to burn. Now, do as I say, Red!”
Patty threw both hands in the air to try to calm the man. “No. Don’t do anything. I’ll get you your money. It’s in the safe. Promise you won’t do anything. I’ll be right back,” Patty pleaded. She had never been so frightened in her entire life. Immediately, she ran back through the door to get him his cash.
“Now that’s one right smart gal. Purty, too. If she don’t do somethin’ stupid, I just might let you two live . . . or maybe not. I could sell a nice little piece like yerself, blondie. How’d you like that? After I sampled you, myself, of course.” He licked his lips in anticipation of getting a piece of the tender young woman.
Whiskey had heard the gunshot and ran back to the hotel. He quietly peered through the window and saw a big man, Lucas, no doubt, holding a gun to his Dora’s head. This man would not live long enough to see the sun, he swore. Luckily, the man liked to talk and that kept him preoccupied enough to allow Whiskey to slowly open the door. For an old man, he was still capable of great strength and agility. In one swift move, he grabbed the man’s skull and turned it around so fast, Lucas didn’t realize he was already dead. The crack of breaking bones was deafening and a welcome sound to the two ladies being held hostage in the kitchen.
As Lucas crumbled into a dirty heap on the floor, Whiskey gathered up Dora, whose bravado had finally played itself out. She noticed her knees were shaking and gladly leaned on her husband for strength.
Cassie was crying as she knelt next to the little puppy. “Tippy, no, no. Why did you do it?”
Whiskey led Dora to a chair, and after making certain she was doing all right, he carefully picked up the brave little dog. He carried him over to the lamp and started to wash the blood from his fur. “Get me a clean towel, Cassie.” As he gently ministered to the animal, Patty returned with a basket full of cash.
“Is it over?” she asked, seeing Dora sitting in a chair and Whiskey bending over Tippy.
Dora, looking older and smaller than she had earlier, nodded her head. “Yes, dear. Whiskey saved us and now he’s tryin’ to save that little dog.”
Cassie turned around with a huge smile on her face. “He’s awake! He’s not dead after all!”
Whiskey chuckled. “He’s not even close to bein’ dead. Brave little mutt fainted. That bullet parted his hair some, but it’ll look good on him. Give ‘em some character.” The old man laughed. “He’s gonna be fine, Cassie. Just give him lots of love and attention.”
Dora felt relief at the good news. She knew how very important that pet was to Cassie. “He’s a fierce one. Came chargin’ through the door and flew right straight up in the air at the man’s gun arm.”
Cassie put out her arms and cradled the dog close to her breast. “I’ll take good care of him, Whiskey. Thank you so very much.” She put her cheek on the little dog’s black head, kissing his face and nuzzling his neck. “I’m taking him upstairs now. Patty, would you mind coming along, please?”
Patty smiled. She knew that Cassie was a little frightened to be left alone after what they had just gone through. As a matter of fact, Patty thought, she might like the company as well. “I’m ready to turn in, Cassie. Can I sleep in your room?”
Looking relieved, Cassie n
odded. “Please do. I would like that ever so much. Good night, Dora—Whiskey. See you in the morning.”
When it was just the two of them, Dora laid her head down on the table and gave into her tears. “It’s been a rough day,” she whispered.
“Well, now darlin’, I want you to go upstairs and get yourself ready for bed,” Whiskey said softly, as he wrapped his big arms around his wife. “I’ll be along in a little bit. There’s a few things here, that need tendin’ to.”
Dora started to whimper. “I was so scared. I thought I might be leavin’ you. But you saved me. You saved us all. I love you so much, old man.”
Whiskey grinned. “That goes double fer me. When I saw him threatenin’ you, I saw red. There was no way I was gonna let him do anythin’ to you or Cassie. I’d kill him again, if I could. He was a rattlesnake and he hurt a lot of good people. Damn his worthless hide,” he growled. He looked at the twisted body lying on the floor, and had to fight the urge to kick it out of the way.
Dora composed herself and looked at the mess on the floor where the little dog had lain. “Let me clean up this mess before I go upstairs.”
Whiskey shook his head and guided his woman to the doorway. “You’re not to think no more about all this. I’ll take care of everythin’ so you don’t need to worry. Go on upstairs and get ready for your husband.” He grinned. “I’m partial to the gown with the pink ribbon on it, and I’d be mighty appreciative if you’d let me brush your hair fer a while. I find it relaxin.”
“Whatever you say, dear.” Dora placed her hands on her husband’s cheeks and pulled him down to her, whereupon she kissed him slow and hard.
As she turned to go upstairs, she heard Whiskey chuckle, “That’s my girl.” Then he left the hotel via the back door. He had to go get the sheriff.
* * *
Blake suddenly jerked awake. He didn’t know what had disturbed him, but something surely had. He listened. There it was—a small splashing sound coming from the lake. It could have been a frog jumping from the bank or a deer stepping out into the water for a drink. Whatever it was, it was of little interest to him . . . that is . . . until he heard a slight moan.
He was on his feet in an instant, gazing out across the black water. The splash occurred again and, just as before, it was accompanied by a moan. Something or someone was in pain. It couldn’t be . . . his mind was trying to process the possibility . . . Did he dare hope?
“Emmie? Is that you, darling?”
Again—there was the splash. Blake ran into the water and couldn’t believe his eyes. A woman was on her knees and trying to make her way out from the water’s edge, falling with every attempt.
“My God, it is you. Emmie!” he shouted, as he scooped her pitiful body up out of the water. “Emmie, it’s me . . . Blake. I can’t believe it. You’re alive! You’re in my arms. Oh, my God, Emmie.” He was shouting, crying, and laughing all at the same time. He was practically hysterical with the joy and relief he felt at finding Emily alive.
He carried her over beside the water trough, and placed her upon his coat. She was shivering with the cold and her lips were blue. Her skin was pale and looked as delicate as old parchment. Quickly checking her over, Blake discovered a huge bump on her forehead and burns on her hands and feet. Her breathing was shallow.
“I’ll be right back, darling. I need to get you into something warm.”
Blake ran to his saddlebags and pulled out a clean shirt and some socks from the pouch. He also found some whiskey and some ointment he always carried for emergencies. It was good for cuts and burns. Gathering up his supplies, he ran back to her side.
With trembling hands, he stripped the wet garments from Emily’s battered body. He felt like crying for her. She was so beautiful and so delicate; to see the pain she had endured was almost unbearable. He noticed the red marks around her wrists and ankles. It was obvious her hands and feet had been tied. Someone had intentionally done this to her and probably set fire to the farm. Had Lucas caught up to her? Had he intended to burn her alive? Blake swore if this were true, there would be no safe place for the man to hide. He’d hunt him down and kill him.
Emily tried to speak, but she had no voice. Her throat hurt desperately, worse than her hands and feet. She looked up at Blake and tried to smile. By placing her hands over her throat, he knew that she could not speak.
“You’ve inhaled a lot of smoke, Emmie. You need to rest your voice and your lungs for a while. But you’ll get better, I promise. Do your hands and feet hurt much?”
She shook her head and pointed to the bump on her head and nodded.
“You’ve got a bad bump. Apparently you hit your head on something.” Blake knew full well that someone probably hit her over the head, but he’d face that fact after Emily was out of danger. “When I get you back to town, I’ll give you some powder for the headache.
“Emmie, I’m so happy to have you back. I thought I’d lose my mind. We all thought you had perished. I guess I’ll have to wait to hear what happened, and frankly, I don’t care. You’re alive and I’m going to protect you with my very life. Never again, will I allow something to happen to you.”
Emily took his gentle hand in hers and squeezed, just before she closed her eyes for some much needed rest.
Blake cuddled close to her, trying to keep her warm and to reassure himself that she was truly safe in his arms and not a dream. Now that she was found, nothing else mattered. He could finally breathe again. After saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving, he tucked her in securely, and held her tight within his embrace, waiting for the dawn.
“Emmie” he sobbed, as he closed his eyes.
*
The sound of a wagon woke the couple sleeping beside the animal trough. The sun had been up for a couple of hours, and Whiskey and Dora had finally arrived. Their mission was to get the doctor on his feet and bring him back to town, hoping for the best.
The scene they came upon was grizzly in the early light of day. “My God, Whiskey. It’s worse than I thought it could possibly be. Poor Doc. We’ve got to go to him.” Dora grasped Whiskey’s arm for strength. It was impossible not to think of poor Emily and how she must have suffered.
He patted her hand. “There, there, darlin’. Nothin’ is so bad that we can’t get through it together. The doc’s gonna be okay. We’ll help him get past this. But first, we need to find him.”
Dora squinted into the sun trying to locate Blake. “What’s that over there by the trough? Is that him? I can’t quite make it out.”
“Yes, ma’am. That sure looks like Doc, but what’s that next to him?” The wagon drew closer. Whiskey had a terrible premonition. Surely Doc hadn’t found Emily’s charred and lifeless body, and spent the entire night holding it against his chest, as if she was alive.
“Thank you, God! Praise the Lord! It’s Emily!” Dora stood up in the moving wagon, eager to jump down and run directly to the sleeping couple.
Putting his hand out to protect her, Whiskey hollered, “Take it easy, Dora. It won’t do no one any good if you take a tumble out of this here wagon. I’ll get us there quick enough.” He cleared his throat and spoke softly, ”Is she alive?”
“Course she is, old man. Can’t you see?”
Slapping the reins one last time, the old man shouted out, “Hey there, Doc. You all right? Is that Emily you got with you?”
The two sleeping people stirred, confused at all the noise. Emily covered her eyes from the bright light and rolled away from Blake. Her head was coming apart and her burns were excruciating.
Blake stood up, stiffly. “Whiskey,” he said smiling. “I’ve got good news.”
Dora was on the ground, running toward Emily, her eyes streaming with tears of happiness. “Yes, I say you have! Oh Emily . . . sweetheart. We were so worried about you. How are you, darlin’?”
Emily could only groan her answer and covered her eyes with her bandaged hands.
Disappointed and worried, Dora looked to Blake for answers.
> “I don’t know what happened yesterday, but I don’t really care. She crawled out of the lake, late last night. She’s got a bad knot on her head, making it difficult for her to keep her eyes open. Her hands and feet are burned pretty badly, too. Not to mention all the smoke she inhaled into her lungs. She can’t speak because of the pain in her throat. But the important thing is, she’s alive, and that’s the way she’ll stay. She’s a fighter. Whoever did this to her, won’t get away with it. He tied her up and set the barn ablaze with her in it. I swear I’ll kill him.”
While Dora knelt beside her friend, whispering soft and soothing words into her ear, Whiskey took Blake aside. “It was her step-pa. Lucas did all this.”
“I figured as much. How did you find out?”
“He paid us a late night visit at the hotel. I was outside when he snuck in and put a gun to my Dora’s head, demandin’ money. Grabbin’ Dora was just another in a long list of mistakes. I couldn’t take the chance he’d shoot her, so I got behind him and snapped his neck like a twig. Damned if his whole head didn’t nearly come off in my hands. The sheriff didn’t say much. He just nudged the body with the toe of his boot and nodded. I think that’s his way of sayin’ ‘good riddance’.”
Blake reached out for the big man and gave him a strong hug, then cried with relief. “Thanks, Whiskey.” He wiped his eyes, embarrassed by his tears. “Emily and I will be able to sleep a whole lot better now, knowing Lucas isn’t lurking behind every bush and around every corner.”
Sniffing, Whiskey chuckled. “I figured I did us all a favor. He was pure evil, through and through—always had been. Now, let’s get you and the little lady back to town.”
*
It was a happy homecoming. As the wagon approached the hotel, a crowd started to assemble and followed it down the street. Happy voices rang through the air telling of the good news.
Patty stepped out on the porch, expecting the arrival of Blake and maybe the body of her best friend. It was obvious she hadn’t slept after all that happened yesterday. With her eyes swollen and red, she gazed down at the crowd. They appeared to be celebrating.
