by Webb, Carole
“Do you know which direction they headed?”
“Can’t say as I do.”
Cash folded the papers and placed them back in his pocket. “Is the sheriff around?”
The man spread a toothless grin and chortled. “Nah, he took off with the others.”
Cash tossed a ten-dollar gold piece on the bar. “Thanks for the information, pal.”
***
It took four days to reach Fort Randal, the most logical place to find the men. Hollow thuds from their boot heels sounded from the wooden sidewalk as the duo entered the saloon. Drinks in hand, they stood one elbow on the bar, one foot on the rest rising from the floor. Occasionally they glanced toward the door. “I don’t know about you, Cash old buddy. I need a hot meal a bath and a bed.”
“You’ve got that right, my friend.” He turned his attention on the bartender and showed him the pictures.
“Yeah, I saw them.” His finger tapped on the paper. “That’s the one they called Horace. They moved out yesterday, going to Hot Springs.”
Cash and John wolfed down a meal of steak, fried potatoes and pie with strong black coffee. After a long hot bath and shave, they settled into warm beds for the night, waking refreshed.
At dawn’s light, they replenished their foodstuffs, nerves wound tight by the news they had received. Cash sent a wire to the sheriff in Hot Springs instructing him to hold the two men if they reached town. A sense of calm came over Cash as they neared their quarry while his mind twisted with thoughts of his revenge.
During the early morning a storm moved in, promising snowfall, crowding the blue skies with turbid black stratus. Flurries gusted by mid-day, rising on the wind. Sleet peppered their faces until they reached a huge Bur Oak and set up a lean-to for shelter against the icy bombardment temporarily halting their quest.
Cash became more impatient as time dragged, anxious to get his hands on them thinking of Raeden and what they did to her.
A lull in the weather allowed further progress and they pushed into the night. The glow of a campfire in the distance grabbed Cash’s attention. “Look, John? Maybe it’s our boys. Let’s ride closer then walk in.”
The camp surrounded by scrub brush allowed them to creep within earshot on bellies and knees. Cash inhaled slow breaths to lower his heart rate and improve his aim.
Taking long pulls of whiskey from a bottle, their laughing voices peeled through the dark. “Member’ the pretty little gal we grabbed over in Chamberlain? She sure could put a fight and was a nice piece, too.”
Though he knew men undermined by emotion could end up dead, Cash sprang, pistol drawn and ready toward the men seated by the fire. The distraction allowed the boasting man, the one called Horace, the split second required to draw and fire. A molten blast seared through his leg crumpling Cash to the ground. He rolled to his belly, an instantaneous reaction, raw instinct, point shot Horace through the chest dropping him with a thud, echoing as he hit face down in the snow.
With loud footfalls, John raced to his right directly into the remaining man’s line of fire. Cash took the man down before he could shoot. The remaining man grabbed his belly and fell to the ground, curling his body, screaming in pain. John ran in, kicked the weapon from his reach, did the same with Horace then hurried to Cash.
Blood streamed from a wound on his thigh. Bright red shreds hung from the hole in his leg. The bullet remained in the muscle. John yanked the scarf off his neck and tied off the flow then checked the felons. Horace laid dead and the other cried for a doctor. He was gut shot and no chance of survival. John ignored his pleas and turned back to Cash.
“We need to get you to a doctor. The leg looks bad. If I try to remove the bullet you might bleed out.”
Cash grimace. He attempted to stand but fell back on his rump. “Are they dead?”
“One is dead, the other’s gut shot. He won’t last long.”
A cry bellowed from the fallen man. “Please help me, mister.”
Venom spewed from John’s voice. “I will rot in hell but I won’t lift a finger you filthy bastard, no matter how much you beg. You will hurt no more innocent women.”
John turned back to Cash. “I say we just leave them here for the animals, like they did Rae. I’ll get the horses.”
Cash managed to stand and mount his horse. The searing pain in his thigh throbbed with each heartbeat while they rode toward Hot Springs. Once again, the elements of nature flared, causing a two-day delay and John began to worry about Cash’s condition though he never complained.
Before reaching their destination, Cash began burning with fever and slumped in the saddle. John tied a rope around his waist and the saddle horn to secure him. While he rambled in delirium, John feared for his friend’s life.
Unconscious when they reached Hot Springs, John and the doctor carried him inside. After slicing his pant leg, the doctor shook his head and frowned. “This infection doesn’t look good.” He poured antiseptic over the wound and reached for a tray of instruments. “You hold his leg. I’ll remove the bullet.”
The doctor packed the hole with gauze after dropping the lead bullet he removed from Cash’s leg into a glass. “Get me some snow while I finish up here.”
With a tub piled high, John hurried back into the room and watched the doctor while he packed snow on the wound over a towel covering his leg. “This should minimize the swelling and help with the bleeding, but the infection is spreading into his leg. If there is no improvement by morning, I may have to amputate. Keep it packed. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
John knew Cash would never agree to such measures. He would rather die than lose a leg. Until the doctor returned, John kept the leg packed as instructed, watching over his reckless friend.
The doctor, a man of around fifty with completely white hair had a bedside manner coming close to non-existent. He re-examined Cash’s leg when he returned from making his rounds.
Hesitant to leave Cash, John struck a match to light a cigar as he ventured out to locate the sheriff and relay the past events, thinking he must also send a telegram to Chad.
Stepping into the office, he found the officer sitting at a marred desk inside a small paneled room with only one window facing the street. The aroma of coffee assailed his nostrils. “Mind if I have a cup of your coffee?”
“Help yourself.”
John grabbed a mug and filled it then walked over to the sheriff. “We found those men. Cash got hit in the leg, but managed to drop both of them.” He stepped closer, placing his palms on the desk and leaned toward the sheriff.
“If you want the remains, we left them on the trail to Fort Randall.” Long fingers of hatred gripped him and he twisted his neck to relieve the tension. “I’m staying here with Cash.” John sat in a wooden straight-back chair next to the untidy desk.
The heavyset man burly and round, propped his boots on the desk and grinned. “I may send out my deputy, maybe not. I’ll think on it. How bad is Cash’s injury?”
“Doc says he may want to cut off his leg. I can’t let him, of course, Cash would shoot me. Can’t say as I would blame him.”
“Let’s hope he gets better. I’ve known him a few years myself, and he isn’t the type of man who would agree to lose a limb.” He sat up, pulled his legs from the desktop and leaned on his elbows. “How did it happen?”
“He overheard them talking about the attack on his wife, rushed in like a crazed bull, just careless and one of them got off a shot before he could take him down.”
“It’s a shame for sure. I hope she is not a widow before this is over.”
John finished drinking his coffee then sauntered onto the sidewalk, kicking mud off his boots. He tended the horses then rented a room at the hotel. After a bath and a shave, he located the nearest saloon for a shot of whiskey before revisiting the doctor’s office to check in on Cash.
The doctor, still gruff and unsympathetic insisted he must remove the leg at once.
John moved closer and positioned his head only a few inc
hes from the physicians face, his tone deliberate. “Now look here, doctor, you’re not cutting the man’s leg off. If you try, you will have to answer to me as well as Cash, and believe me, you will not want that to happen.”
Seemingly not intimidated, the surly doctor did not flinch. “Whatever you say, but I will not be held responsible for his untimely death.”
Certain he had made his point, John stepped back then entered the room where Cash lay, and stood at his bedside.
Nothing had changed since seeing him last so he walked to his room at the hotel. Spent from the journey and tension, he slept until dawn.
***
John stretched out cramped muscles the next morning then dressed while hunger gnawed at his stomach on his way to see Cash. He was surprised to see him conversing with the doctor. Cash’s face ridden with pain, was still red from fever, his leg, angry and swollen from sepsis. The doctor tossed Cash a thin-lipped smirk before exhaling a huff and leaving the room.
Propped up on pillows, Cash stared through blood-shot eyes. “Doc says he wants to cut off my leg. I told him I would shoot him first.” He grimaced while meeting John’s eyes.
“That’s not real nice seeing as how he probably saved your life.” Aggravation barbed his tone. “You might want to consider Rae before you kill yourself.” Placing a thumb in his belt, he stared into a face of granite.
Cash rose on one elbow, sarcasm edged his words. “She will probably be happy to be rid of me. I want your promise you will not mention this to a soul, especially Rae, unless I die of course. I’m not going back half a man. I need your word.”
John hesitated for a moment. “If it’s what you want, buddy and if you survive just what should I tell her when I appear without you? You’ll be laid up here for a while.”
“Just tell them I am out chasing bad guys. You’ll think of something. Maybe you should leave now before you get snowbound.”
Cash winced in pain. John dropped his eyes to the floor. “I’ll stay here for a couple of days to see if you die. That way I can haul your sorry carcass back with me.” His stomach churned at the thought.
The doctor walked in with spectacles rimming his nose. “John, I would like to talk with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Wait a sec, John. Bring me a bottle of whiskey, no, make it two.”
Escorted out into the anteroom, the doctor closed the door behind him and sat at his desk. “Don’t bring him the liquor; I’ll give him something for the pain. I don’t need an angry drunk on my hands.” His expression looked grim as John waited for bad news. “His leg is no better. If gangrene sets in there’s nothing I can do except amputate, and at that point, he could still die. I guess I don’t need to explain his reaction.”
Unexpectedly, John felt angry at Cash for being so careless while a curtain of doom shrouded his thoughts. “I knew his answer. Can’t say I would think any differently.”
“I’ll keep him sedated and start with hot compresses to draw out the infection since the bleeding’s stopped. Will you be around for a while?”
John’s shoulders slumped slightly as he stared the doctor. “I’ll be here until he shows signs of improvement or dies. He just got married. His wife will be devastated.” He straightened his back and hooked a thumb in his gun belt. “We had been searching for the men who attacked her. That’s how he received this injury. She is still recuperating back home.” He shook his head and swiveled toward the door. “What a mess this has turned out to be.”
He left to eat in the saloon and have a beer and played poker to pass the time.
The doctor kept Cash sedated and John guessed it more to keep him quiet than to relieve his pain.
By the second evening Cash’s leg showed progress. The news of a possible recovery left Cash in high spirits. The pain had subsided along with the fever. For the first time in days, John felt relief.
In the chair next to Cash’s bed the next morning, John looked over the injured leg. It still drained green fluid through the compresses though Cash’s mood had substantially improved. “Look’s like I’ll be here a while stuck in this damn bed.”
Sarcasm rang in John’s voice. “It is better than a coffin, pal. I’ll hang around until tomorrow then I’ll take off.”
Cash raised on an elbow. “Don’t forget your promise.”
John scowled and spoke through pursed lips. “I’ll keep your damn promise. I sure wouldn’t want anyone worrying about your sorry ass. I don’t understand why you’re so stubborn, you jackass.” He couldn’t help thinking if he had a woman like Raeden, he would never leave her thinking he’d ran off gallivanting without a word while she lay miles off recuperating, speculating where he might be.
Cash laid back down, arms folded behind his head. “Let’s say I have my reasons. Just respect my wishes and let it go. And send me a wire about Rae’s convalescence, if it is not too much trouble.”
Antipathy for his mule-headed friend grew as he walked with his gear from the hotel room. What could he say to Raeden? No way would he wire Cash about her. He could find out for himself. He sent a telegram to Chad of his departure and mentioned Cash would stay in Fort Randall on business.
Leaving at daybreak with the loaded packhorse, John saw the northeastern sky remained clear while a storm moved in from the west. The vast panorama was highlighted by the outline of the Black Hills. Its dark silhouette contrasted with a blue-gray sky appearing endless. On his lonely excursion back to Chamberlain to deliver Cash’s lies, he wondered how Raeden would take the news. He wanted to go knock some sense into Cash and make him realize his mistake.
The closer he came to his destination, the angrier he became. Maybe he should just tell her the truth, but he had given his word.
***
Cash balked at the news he couldn’t ride or walk for a few weeks, sure the weather would make travel more rigorous and time consuming if he remained for any length of time. He desired to see Raeden, but not in a weakened state. His pride would never allow him to gimp like some cripple and face the pity in her perspicacious green eyes.
He tried to read to take his mind off her but his thoughts always wandered to how she felt in his arms. At the same time, he despised his perceived weakness when around her and felt angry at her ability to disregard him so easily.
Questioning the reason for the shift in her disposition toward him, she seemed to despise him. Her sharp barbs cut to the quick. That two people could share so much in friendship and passion and not love one another baffled his mind. He loved her like no other and wanted to keep her all to himself. Her obsession with New York and beginning an enterprise seemed petty compared to the life they could share as husband and wife.
It would be necessary to convince her D.C. would be all she needed to feed her compulsion, and being a Senator’s wife would be an honor. Sure her temper would cool in a short time, he looked forward to his new life with the woman he loved.
Forty-one
In the weeks after Cash left, Raeden grew stronger, the bruising diminished, and the scar above her eye had almost healed. According to Doctor Hathaway, it would fade in time and not mar her face, and her arm had mended allowing her to ride Arte once again when the weather permitted. She gained weight and managed to stir from her sleep before the nightmares became too vivid, waking more rested, free of night sweats and fear of the dark.
Chad explained John sent a wire and Cash would be along at some unknown time, but she had yet to face the deputy and ask more questions. Hurt at first by his desertion and sending no word, she found it easier to think of him with detachment rather than dwell on the past. He had avenged her honor and for that, she remained grateful. Knowing them dead eased the tension plaguing her daily since the assault.
Still late at night when she could not seem to fall asleep, a yearning would creep into the very fiber of her being, suffocating her resolve to leave Cash behind. It was such a foolhardy notion to think she could attain her goal and still have him as well, when he did not really want her.
She joined Diane for tea in a maroon-colored winter wool dress, uplifted and eager to leave for St. Louis the following day. Craig would arrive to escort her since she had misgivings about traveling alone through the untamed country. With all her belongings packed and ready for delivery to the train depot, the only remaining duty was to make her farewells.
A knock on the front door brought Sadie from the kitchen and the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted throughout the house. Hoping for word from Cash before her journey, she rose from her seat hustling to the foyer and viewed John brushing snow off his duster before stepping over the threshold and removing his hat.
She peered beyond for a glimpse of Cash. A sweet smile disguised her disappointment when the door closed behind him, strings of sudden loneliness tugged at her heart.
“Hello, ladies.”
Diane reached for his arm after he removed his coat. “Come in and have breakfast and I’m certain you could use some coffee.”
“A hot meal sounds great. It sure smells good in here.”
Diane moved to the kitchen while Raeden poured a mug of steaming coffee for John then sat beside him making an attempt at nonchalance.
“You look much better, Rae. How are you feeling?”
He must be hiding something. His eyes are wandering. “I have made remarkable progress, couldn’t feel better.” She mustered her courage. “How long has it been now? Have you heard from Cash?”
John obviously uncomfortable with the question, fidgeted in his seat. “No, he will be gone for a time, and there’s always the chance he might get snowbound and held up for days.” He swigged a sip of the strong hot liquid while refusing to make eye contact with Raeden.
Diane placed a plate of corned beef hash with fried eggs in front of John and moved the breadbasket and butter within his reach.
Raeden tried not to care, but regardless of her efforts her eyes pooled with moisture. She had lost control. After excusing herself, she walked slowly to her bedroom, plopped on her bed and started to sob. Why did this hurt? Couldn’t he have at least sent a note? She wished she could hate him and deny her true feelings, but she loved him.
