Darlin' Druid

by Lyn Horner

  The aroma of fried meat carried on the ever-present wind, coming from the nearby eating house, which was crammed to overflowing with ravenous passengers. They only had thirty minutes to wolf down their supper. It must be a regular bedlam in there.

  She and Tye had already eaten from their store of food, as had others with little funds to spare. Her brother now stood near their coach, deep in conversation with the two would-be miners she had overheard earlier. Tired of listening to talk of silver mining, Jessie had slipped away, needing a few minutes alone, especially after enduring David Taylor’s company.

  Aye, and after he’d finally returned to his coach, she’d had to put up with Tye’s maddening prattle. He had teased her, accusing her of being “taken with” the insolent captain and laughing at her adamant denial. Worse still, he’d asked if David Taylor might be the man she searched for, the man in her fateful vision. Naturally she had scoffed at the idea.

  “Impossible!” she muttered, swatting a windblown curl out of her eye as her thoughts circled around the captain. She kept seeing that look of pity he’d given her. It still raised her hackles, but it also made her wonder. Might that spark of humanity mean he hid a softer heart beneath his steely exterior? She had told herself over and over again that he couldn’t be the gentle hero from her dreams. Was she wrong?

  Oh, how she wished there was someone she could turn to for advice, someone other than Tye. She needed another woman, a friend, who would understand her doubts and confusion. Huh! Even if there was such a one, she wouldn’t dare speak to her about the vision that had sent her on this mad hunt for a man she’d never actually met.

  She and her brother and sister had been taught never to reveal their gifts to an outsider, unless it was someone they could count on to keep silent. People feared those with powers such as theirs, their mam, Nora, had told them, a fact she’d learned the hard way as a girl back in Ireland. She did not want to see her children ostracized for their God-given gifts.

  The only person outside their family Mam had ever trusted with their secret was her employer, Adeline Maxwell. Mam had worked as the elderly widow’s housekeeper for over a decade, and the two had become close friends. Adeline, as she’d insisted on being called by Jessie and her siblings whenever Mam brought them to visit, owned a beautiful house on Chicago’s North Side. Sadly, the great fire had burned the house and all its treasures to the ground, including Adeline’s wondrous library with its hundreds of books on every subject under the sun.

  Jessie had learned what she was from one of those books. She vividly recalled the day Adeline sat them all down and read to them from the thick tome about a race of people who had inhabited Ireland long, long ago. They were called the Tuatha de Danaan. They were said to be learned and wise, and among them were some who possessed magical powers such as the ability to divine the future. According to the book’s author, these gifted ones were known as Druids. Adeline believed Nora Devlin and her children had inherited their unusual mental abilities from Druid ancestors, that they were, in fact, modern day Druids.

  Until then Jessie had never heard of either the Tuatha de Danaan or Druids. Mam had simply said they were descended from the “Old Ones” – a vague explanation that never satisfied Jessie’s curiosity. The revelation of who and what she truly was had left her rather awestruck. But it hadn’t eased her feeling of strangeness, of never being like other children, with whom she’d so yearned to fit in. Thank goodness for Tye and Rosie. Without them she didn’t know how she would have survived her childhood. The three of them had always been closer than most brothers and sisters, precisely because they were so different from everyone else. Even so, she couldn’t see herself discussing her uncertainties about David Taylor with Tye.

  Caught up in her thoughts, Jessie was nearing the caboose when she suddenly became aware of footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw a large male form approaching her. “Tye, is that you?” she called, unable to make out more than the man’s silhouette in the deepening gloom.

  When he gave no answer, her skin prickled with fear and her heart began to race. She spun around and attempted to flee, but she’d taken barely two steps when a rough hand clamped over her mouth, smothering her terrified cry. She was hauled against a foul-smelling, buckskin-clad body.

  “Surprise, sweetheart,” her captor rasped. “You lookin’ to meet that uppity bluecoat back here? Seems like he ain’t comin’. But Wolf’s here, and we’re gonna have us some fun, girlee.”

  Oh God! Not Gerard! Flooded with fear, Jessie kicked and twisted and attempted to bite his filthy hand, but he merely laughed as he dragged her around the caboose. Her puny strength was no match for him. She couldn’t even reach up to claw his face with his arm fastened around her like a vice, pinning her own arms to her sides.

  Help me, someone!she screamed silently.

  * * *

  As he left the eating house David heard Tye Devlin shout his sister’s name. Jessie did not reply. Standing by the train, the Irishman peered back and forth in the growing darkness.

  “What’s wrong?” David asked, striding up to him.

  Devlin pivoted, his face grim. “I can’t find Jessie. She was here a few minutes ago. Then she was gone. I was talking to two other gents and I didn’t see her leave.”

  David clasped his shoulder. “Take it easy. Did you check your coach?”

  “Aye, but she’s not there. And I’ve a terrible feeling she’s in trouble. I know she is!” Devlin glanced wildly toward the tender, where coal was still being loaded. “I was about to look up front. Will ye check the back end?”

  “Be glad to.”

  With a quick nod, Devlin trotted off toward the engine, while David headed in the opposite direction, hoping the Irishman’s bad feeling was wrong.

  “Miss Devlin,” he called, but got no response. Didn’t the little greenhorn even have sense enough not to wander off by herself in the dark? And she thought she could take care of herself. “Fool girl!”

  Damn, what if Gerard and his pals had gotten hold of her? At the thought, he broke into a run.

  “Jessie!” he shouted. Still no reply.

  Then a woman screamed. The sound was cut off, but it clearly came from the other side of the train. Cursing, he drew his gun and vaulted over the coupling between the last two cars.

  “Bitch! Quit your bitin’!” a familiar ugly voice snarled, followed by the crack of a slap and a pained cry.

  “Gerard, you bastard! Leave her alone!” Seeing the struggling figures in the deep shadows by the caboose, David charged forward.

  The buffalo skinner roared a curse and shoved Jessie aside. She cried out as Gerard rushed at David. Recalling the man’s knife, David raised his gun but hesitated to fire, fearing he might hit the girl in the dark. His hesitation cost him. Spotting the glint of moonlight on metal, he started to twist aside, but Gerard’s blade caught him in the chest and slashed upward across his right shoulder.

  The impact sent his gun flying, and he cried out as pain lanced through him. Instinctively, he knocked Gerard off balance and spun away. Sucking air between his teeth, he clutched his shoulder, feeling blood ooze between his fingers. Gerard regained his footing, growled, and rushed at him again. David dodged aside, forcing himself to ignore the pain.

  “Want the next one in your belly, blue-leg?” the buffalo skinner taunted, circling him. “Or should I mark up your pretty-boy mug first? Think that little Mick would take to yuh with a few scars?”

  “You won’t get away with this,” David ground out.

  “Hell, I’ll be long gone on this here train before they find yuh. Or the girl.” Gerard gave a guttural laugh. “I watched yuh jawin’ with her and that buck she’s with. When I seen her sneak off from him, I hoped you’d come after her so’s I could even the score. Only I figured on havin’ a might more time with her first.”

  David wanted to throttle him. “You need muzzling, cabrón, and that’s what I aim to do.”

  “Why, you meddlin’ yahoo! Think you’re
gonna wup me, do yuh?” Gerard lunged, knife slashing wildly.

  Evading him, David grabbed the man’s knife arm and tried to wrench the blade from his grasp. He failed but hung on tight.

  “You’re a dead man,” the buffalo skinner growled, hammering at him with his other fist.

  David attempted to block the blows, but the pain was almost more than he could stand, and he was losing blood. He could smell it mingled with Gerard’s rank odor, and he was beginning to feel cold, not a good sign.

  Stumbling, the buffalo skinner fell, and David went down with him. He gasped in agony when they hit the ground but maintained his death grip on the other man’s knife arm. They rolled in the dust, ending up with Gerard on top, straddling him.

  “I’m gonna gut you like a downed buffalo, bluebelly,” he threatened, attempting to drive his blade into David’s throat. “Then I’ll have me some fun with your little friend.”

  “Like hell!” David snarled. With a cry of pure rage, he heaved the heavier man upward enough so that he could jam his knee into the bastard’s groin.

  Gerard shrieked and slumped forward. Gagging, he attempted to clutch himself. Still, he hung onto the knife, forcing it lower with his weight. Staving off pain and weakness, David tightened his grip on Gerard’s forearm and grabbed his wrist. He gave a swift, sharp twist and heard bones snap.

  The buffalo skinner let out a bloodcurdling howl and dropped the knife. David shoved him away. Landing on his backside, Gerard cradled his broken arm and rocked back and forth, keening shrilly.

  Slowly, David levered onto his knees. His breath came in labored gulps, and he swayed precariously. Marshalling the last of his strength, he delivered a roundhouse left to Gerard’s jaw that silenced him abruptly. He toppled backward onto the hard earth and lay there like a felled log.

  David slumped over. Gotta tie the bastard up, he told himself, but he was used up. Dizzy and hurting all over, he collapsed near his unconscious enemy.

  Huddled against the caboose, Jessie could barely make out the two men lying still and silent on the ground. Quaking from head to foot, she gathered her courage and forced herself to move. She had to find out if David was alive.

  Dreading the worst as she approached him, she dropped to her knees and hesitantly reached out to touch him. When she felt his chest move under her hand, she released a cry of gladness. His face was a pale blur, but she thought she saw his eyes open.

  “Thank heaven!” she said in a reedy voice. “I feared ye were . . . .” She broke off, unable to say the word.

  “Not yet,” he muttered weakly. “He knifed me. Have to stop . . . the bleeding.” He fumbled with a button on his coat.

  “Let me,” Jessie said, finding his hand and gently pushing it aside. Her own hands trembled as she worked open his heavy jacket. She longed to weep, but that would do him no good.

  “Help!” she cried as loud as she could, praying someone would hear. Why hadn’t she run for help before, instead of cowering like a terrified rabbit while David fought to protect her? And why had she stupidly put herself in danger in the first place? This was all her fault!

  “You shouldn’t have . . . left your brother,” David mumbled, echoing her guilty thoughts.

  She choked down a sob. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  He grunted and lay silent while she unbuttoned his blood-soaked shirt. When she probed gingerly beneath it, he jerked and inhaled sharply. Jessie bit her lip, hating to cause him more pain, but she could barely see him in the dark, and she had to know the position of his wound.

  “Oh God,” she whispered, finding a long, gaping furrow that ran from near his breastbone, diagonally across his right shoulder. With such a wound, how had he managed to best Gerard?

  Hastily, she tore a strip of cloth from her petticoat, folded it into a pad, and pressed it over his wound. She tried to be gentle, but still he groaned. Touching his cheek, she found it cold and clammy, and she couldn’t contain a whimper of fear for him.

  “Help! Please!” she cried again, still getting no response. What should she do? She had to keep pressure on the gaping wound, but she couldn’t just sit here while he slipped away.

  Dear God, don’t let him die, she prayed. As if in answer to her prayer, she heard her brother call her name in the distance.

  “Tye! Help!” she screamed.

  “Jessie, where are ye?” he shouted, sounding closer.

  “Here! On the other side of the caboose. Hurry!”

  He gave an answering call and, within seconds, rounded the end of the train, a lantern swinging from his hand.

  “Here,” she repeated, and in a flash he knelt beside her, eyes widening at the sight of David Taylor’s bloody body.

  “Mother of God! What happened?” Then he spotted Gerard lying nearby. “That scum! Did he harm ye, Jess? I’ll carve him up with his own wicked knife if he did.” He gripped her shoulders and sought to turn her toward him.

  She pushed his hands away. “Nay, nay, I’m fine. David . . . Captain Taylor stopped him before . . . .” She impatiently waved aside any further explanation. “But Gerard stabbed him and he’s bleeding something awful. We must get him to a doctor. Quickly!”

  “Aye. Aye, we will,” Tye said huskily, patting her arm as she adjusted the already sodden bandage over David’s wound. “Higgins is searching for ye, too. I’ll find him. He’ll know where there’s a doctor.” He started to rise, but David’s slurred voice stopped him.

  “Have to . . . tie him up and . . . find my gun.” Groaning, he tried to sit up, but Jessie gently restrained him. It required little effort, as weak as he was.

  “Lie still,” she said, brushing a lock of hair off his clammy forehead. “You’ve done enough.”

  Tye laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t fret, Captain. I’ll see to the filthy cladhaire,” he vowed. Moving fast, he lashed Gerard’s wrists together with the buffalo skinner’s belt, then located David’s gun, with Jessie grudging every second.

  Striding over to her, he jerked his head toward Gerard. “If he comes to, point this at him.” He laid the huge looking pistol on the ground beside her. “And shoot if ye must.”

  Jessie nodded. She had never touched a gun in her life, but squeezing a trigger seemed simple enough, and in Gerard’s case she would feel no qualms about shooting him if put to the test.

  Leaving the lantern with her, Tye hurried off to fetch help, while Jessie returned her attention to David. Finding his heavy-lidded gaze upon her, she held her breath. His lips formed the barest of smiles, he mumbled something she couldn’t understand, then closed his eyes and went completely limp.

  “Captain!” she cried in a panic, fearing he was gone. But, to her relief, his chest continued to rise and fall under her hands. Putting more pressure on the blood-soaked bandage, she bent close to his ear.

  “You’ll not die, David Taylor, d’ye hear? Not when I’ve only just found ye.”

  * * *

  After what seemed like hours, Jessie stood watching as Tye, Corporal Thompson and his two friends shifted David onto the blanket Mr. Higgins had provided. “Gently,” she implored, gnawing her bottom lip.

  Shouts rang out from the far side of the train, where angry passengers were hurling abuse at the conductor over this latest delay. Jessie felt terrible for causing him so much trouble. But that was nothing compared to her guilty, soul-deep fear for David Taylor.

  “Now then, if you’ll lead the way, sir, we’ll follow,” Tye said to the stocky, middle-aged man who stood nearby holding a lantern. His name was Charles Cooper. The local station master had fetched him instead of the town doctor, who was away delivering a baby. Mr. Cooper’s wife, it seemed, was the only other person who would know how to treat a serious wound.

  “Be glad to,” Mr. Cooper replied with a nod.

  Tye and the three soldiers each grabbed a corner of the blanket, hefted their burden and set off toward the only medical help available. Hurrying alongside David’s makeshift litter, Jessie struggled to hold the bloody banda
ge in place over his wound. She feared Mrs. Cooper might not be as capable as her husband and the station master claimed, but they had no choice but to accept whatever help the woman could give.

  Wolf Gerard, who had been hauled off to jail, would have to wait for the doctor’s return to have his broken arm set. He could wait until doomsday, for all Jessie cared.

  Her worries about Mrs. Cooper’s ability to treat David’s injury began to fade when the woman met them at her front door. As stout as her husband, with a long gray braid draped over one shoulder, she wore a blue flannel robe over a high-necked nightgown. And her manner exuded confidence.

  “Come in, come in,” she urged. “I turned down the bed in John’s room, Charles. Take him right on back, please.”

  “Yes, dear.” Puffing from exertion, her flushed, balding mate beckoned the litter bearers down the center hallway that ran the length of the house. When Jessie started to follow them, Mrs. Cooper laid a hand on her arm to stop her.

  “My name is Milly, my dear, and I could use your help. If you’re not too squeamish.” The woman gave off a homey vanilla scent, a soothing contrast to the metallic odor of blood clinging to Jessie. Her hazel eyes demanded a forthright answer.

  “I’m Jessie Devlin, ma’am, and Captain Taylor saved my life tonight. I’ll do anything I can to help him. And ye needn’t worry. I’ll not be fainting at the sight of blood.”

  The older woman took in the red stains on Jessie’s hands and gown and smiled wryly. “No, I don’t suppose you will. Let’s see what we can do for your captain, then.” Turning away, she missed Jessie’s astonished look.

  Her captain? Was he indeed meant for her? Out there in the dark, her instincts had cried out yes, but now . . . she was uncertain.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake! This was not the time to debate the issue. Angry at herself, she hurried after Mrs. Cooper. As they entered the small bedroom, Corporal Thompson nudged his friends aside, allowing Jessie a view of David’s prone form on the bed. She was horrified by his blood-slick uniform and how deathly pale he looked beneath his tan.