by John Foxjohn
He’d breathed a sigh of relief when he got out of jail and rushed home. No one knew he had the man here, and he couldn’t tell anyone, or whoever beat him might return to finish the job.
Andy laid the back of his hand on the man’s forehead. He had a high fever, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Then he recalled something Worm used to do for pain and fever.
Sighing, Andy sat and took off the boots he was having a hard time getting used to. He replaced them with his moccasins. With his rifle, he eased the door open partway. After looking around, he slid through the door and to his right, but darted the other way. He was probably being silly, but someone had tried to kill him. That someone had come back to Heath. Also, he wasn’t about to disregard Lloyd Stephens’ threat. Most in the town thought a lot of the man, but there were whispers about him from others who might know more about the man’s character. The whispered word was he couldn’t be trusted and not to turn your back on him.
Without a sound, Andy eased through the dew-laden grass behind his cabin. Although the sun was attempting to show itself, it was still dark in the woods, but he knew where he was going. Fifty feet behind the cabin was a small pond with willows growing along its bank.
Andy found one of the smaller trees and squatted beside it. With his knife, he shaved off a good portion of the bark, gathered it, and put his knife back. Instead of going the way he’d come, he took a route around the pond and came up to his cabin from the other direction.
Inside, he barred the door and stoked the fire in his stove. He set a pot of water on the stove, and while he waited for it to get hot, he used his knife to shave the inner part of the willow bark. He didn’t know how much to use, but he continued until he had a good bit. He then put the shavings into the hot water. After thinking for a moment, he went ahead and dropped in some of the bark, too. He didn’t think it would hurt.
He brought the mixture to a boil and then removed it from the fire.
The coffee tasted good, and he sat back with a hot cup of coffee, relaxing as he waited for the willow tea to cool.
Lloyd Stephens had told him to stay away from Abbey, and although he resented the man for saying it, he had only voiced what the others wouldn’t say to his face. Andy had said that he would stay away when Abbey wore Stephen’s ring, but the statement had come more from his dislike of the man than the actual truth.
He didn’t like to think it, but the truth was he was jealous of Lloyd Stephens. The man had what Andy wanted—the inside track with Abbey. He sighed. It was laughable that Abbey would want to have anything to do with him. She felt sorry for him. Also, there was something there from their childhood and the only reason she didn’t walk around him like he was animal dung as the others did. And in a way, he understood their feelings. He was a white Indian. Some called him a squaw man, and those were the polite ones. The Lakota, which meant The People, or Sioux as the white man called them, had killed many whites and it was payback time. Although stuck on a reservation and in poverty, the Lakota were luckier than Andy. The soldiers kept the whites away from the reservations and the Indians, but Andy was on his own.
He was just glad she didn’t know he’d been in jail. He was asleep when the sullen sheriff barged in and opened the cell door. At first, Andy thought he’d come to make good on his threat, but that thought didn’t last long. Toley wasn’t the type to face a man.
Andy hesitated when the sheriff stood aside and barked, “Come on.”
JT Moreland standing in the sheriff’s office surprised him. He wondered how he’d heard the sheriff had arrested him. Before he could say anything, Moreland strode forward and poked the sheriff in the chest with an index finger. “I’d better not have to tell you this again, Sheriff, leave Andy alone.”
Moreland turned his attention to Andy. “I want to speak to the sheriff alone, Andy. Why don’t you go on home.”
Andy shrugged and then extended his hand and shook with his friend. “Thanks for…getting me out.”
Now, Andy sipped his coffee and sighed as he looked around the dilapidated cabin with the old rickety furniture he’d scavenged from the junk pile. Even if Abbey was so inclined, which was stupid to consider, he couldn’t bring her here. In fact, he had no place he could bring her. He had no way to support her and a family.
He wanted her with every fiber in his body, but he had to be realistic enough to know it would never happen. A tear trickled down his cheek. He swiped it away, first embarrassed he had shed tears, and then angered for the same reason.
Standing, he checked the temperature of the willow tea, poured a cup full, and approached the bed. He sat on the edge, lifted the man up, and held the cup to the man’s lips. At first, nothing happened. Then Andy pressed the cup to his lips and they parted. Andy tipped the cup up and a small amount of the liquid flowed out of the corners of the stranger’s mouth, but he swallowed some of it.
The night sped by like two snails racing. Andy repeated the process several times. Although the man never opened his eyes or made a sound, and a good part of the tea had come out, he was satisfied that he’d gotten some of it down, too. Of course, he didn’t know if it would do any good, or even kill the man.
As daylight came into full bloom, Andy ate jerked meat he had stored up, finished his coffee, and then force-fed the man more of the willow tea. He didn’t know what to do with him. He had to go help Abbey’s father. He needed the money, but the man might also need his help while he was gone. He didn’t know if the ones who’d done this to him might hunt him down to finish him off. For whatever reason, he didn’t think the man in his bed was supposed to come out of that alley alive. Of course they didn’t know who Andy was and would have no reason to look in his cabin.
Instead of saddling Big Red and riding as he usually did, Andy decided to walk. He usually went straight to the dry goods store, but this time he cut through the alley where the attack had occurred. He found all the scuffmarks and a few dark spots of dried blood, but nothing to tell him who the man was or why the four had beaten him.
When Andy entered the dry goods store, Mr. Martin was engaged in a conversation with the owner of the saloon, but the conversation ended abruptly, and both men glared at him. Abbey’s father jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Johansson, the wagon’s out back. Get busy.” With that, he turned his attention away.
As Andy hurried by, he noticed a few small, rough yellow stones lying on the counter. Hoyt Lambert, the saloon owner, said, “A trapper traded them to me. I tried to get him to tell me where he’d found them, but he wouldn’t.”
He lost the conversation as he exited the building, but he wondered about the yellow rocks the men were discussing. He picked up a nail keg out of the wagon and carried it inside. As he set it close to the counter, Lambert said, “That’s over a hundred dollars there.”
Andy’s eyebrow rose as he looked at the small rocks. When he straightened, he asked in astonishment, “Those yellow rocks…worth over a…hundred dollars?”
Both men looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, then Lambert asked, “You don’t know what gold is? How old were you, boy, when the Indians captured you?”
“Maybe eight,” he said and shrugged. He wasn’t sure.
The two men nodded as if that explained the phenomenon, and then dismissed Andy from the discussion.
Andy glanced at the yellow rocks for a moment, and then continued out back to unload the wagon. It would take him a couple of hours to unload it, and Abbey’s father would pay him four bits.
He helped others around town doing odd jobs, and at the end of the week he usually had a couple of dollars to live on. Since he didn’t know how to count money, and didn’t know how much the whites paid others, he didn’t know if they cheated him or not. He suspected they did, but he couldn’t say anything. If he did, they might not give him any more jobs. Besides, he didn’t need much. He hunted most of the food he ate. Sometimes when he had time, he would augment his earnings by trapping furs and trading them in. Of course, he al
so made money painting.
His mind went to those yellow rocks. Abbey’s father and Mr. Lambert seemed astonished that he hadn’t known about them. They’d even asked him if he knew what gold was.
It was the first time he could remember hearing the term, and he didn’t know those yellow rocks were valuable. He was glad they hadn’t asked him if he knew where any were. He did—and lots of them.
Chapter Six
Andy had hurried home to check on the man. He entered the house to the smell of dust and ash odors from the dead fire. He shut the door but didn’t need to worry about seeing. Sunlight shone brightly through the tattered tarp hanging on the one window and through chinks in the walls.
The stranger was right where he’d left him, and in the same condition, except he seemed to be able to breathe a little better and he wasn’t as hot as before. Andy figured the willow tea might have helped some, so he went through the process of shaving off the inside of the bark and then boiling it.
He poured another cup, but before he could give the injured man any, Big Red snorted and stomped from the corral beside the house.
His heart lodged in his throat. He’d lived in the wild too long not to pay attention to his horse. Breathing hard, he darted across the room, grabbed his rifle, and eased toward the door. Outside, dried grass leading up to his door crunched as someone neared. He’d lived in the cabin for four months and never had anyone come by. Now he had two a day apart.
He glanced around. It was times like this he wished he had a back door or another way out. He would have to find a way. He felt like a trapped animal.
Even though he expected it, the soft knock startled him.
With his heart pounding, he cocked the hammer on the rifle and reached for the latch. He stopped when a soft feminine voice said, “Andy.”
His heart spun in reverse and for an entirely different reason. He opened the door to one of the most beautiful sights on earth: the slender woman with hair the color of the yellow rocks and eyes like a clear mountain lake on a hot day.
She smiled and it turned his insides to jelly.
Andy didn’t know if the whites would consider it proper to ask her to come in. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of that proper stuff involving women. The Indians didn’t have things like that. The individual Indian woman decided what she would tolerate and what she wouldn’t.
But he had an even bigger problem than that. As usual when he was around her, he didn’t know if he could get words to come out of his mouth.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to come in?”
Why did things have to be so complicated with whites? He heaved out a breath. Instead of saying anything, he stepped aside.
She entered but stopped when she spotted the man lying in bed. Andy hurried into the room and found a blanket to cover him. He’d been lying in just his dirty long johns.
“Who’s that?” she asked, and then she gasped. “That’s the man Lloyd’s men are looking for. I overheard talk this morning. He and another man tried to rob a couple of Lloyd’s employees in the alley.” She paused, “What’s wrong with him?”
Andy’s eyes hardened. At least he knew who was behind the man’s beating now. “What’s wrong, they…beat him with axe handles.”
“What about the other man with him?” she asked.
“The other man came up while they were beating him. He stopped them. While they were…robbing him, they came close to beating him to death.”
“But he hurt two of Lloyd’s men.”
Andy pointed at the man on the bunk. “Do not think he hurt…anyone.”
“How did you get involved in this?” Abbey asked, frowning.
He turned and set the rifle in the corner before answering. “Just lucky, I guess. I saw four men beating him…I stopped them.”
Abbey hurried to the bed and laid the back of her hand on the unconscious man’s forehead. She glanced at Andy. “He has a fever.”
“I know. I was about to feed him some of the…” He ground his teeth. It frustrated him that he had so much trouble finding the words. “Willow tea. It seems to help.”
She held her hand out for the cup. “I’ll do that. Could you heat some water?”
Heating the water, Andy glanced at her several times, but she was busy feeding the man the tea. When the water was hot, she asked for a clean cloth. Gently, she bathed his face. After rinsing the cloth out, she began the hardest task—cleaning the caked blood out of his hair. She took a few strands at a time and ran the wet cloth over them. When she had the majority of the blood out, she separated the hair and finished that part.
As she washed the cloth out, the bowl of water became red. Andy threw it out and refilled it. He left for more wood for the stove and water. When he returned, Abbey was still washing the man’s hair. She looked up from the job. “He has several deep, nasty gashes on his head. Very deep ones. I don’t know if this will do any good or not.”
Andy shrugged. He’d been in the same situation. He didn’t know what to do, and the town didn’t have a doctor. Besides, he couldn’t let anyone know the man was here. He didn’t know what the problem was, but he’d bet the ones who did this would come to finish the job.
Abbey eased the man’s face toward her so she could get to the other side. Without looking at Andy, she said, “Maybe you should stay out of things like this. It’ll only get you in more trouble.”
With an edge to his voice, he replied, “If I had not, Stephens’ men would…have killed him. I know nothing about him. But he fought four.”
Reacting to Andy’s tone, she stopped what she was doing. “Lloyd couldn’t have had anything to do with this.” Her words surprised her and she didn’t know why she’d said them.
Hurt surged through Andy. “You believe that?”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“No one believes bad things about him. He has you under his…spell.”
“I’m not under anyone’s spell,” she snapped. “Maybe your friend here was robbing them.”
“Not a friend.” He pointed at the injured man on the bed. “He was not robbing four people.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“I brought him here…he did not have gun or knife. The others had guns and used…axe handles. Why would he…rob four men with no gun?”
Andy stood. “Second man was me…I was not robbing.”
His logic made sense, but she still didn’t believe Lloyd had anything to do with it. Maybe it was some of the men who worked for him without his knowledge. She laid the man’s head down and stood, arms crossed. “You don’t know Lloyd.”
“Do you?”
“You don’t like him because he wants to marry me. You’re just jealous.”
Although her words hurt, he had to admit she was right about the jealous part. What man wouldn’t be? He was jealous, but when he searched his motivation, that wasn’t the overriding reason. It wasn’t even close.
She’d never said why she’d shown up to his cabin, but for the first time, he glanced at her ring finger. “From your talk I...expected a …ring.”
Stomping her foot, she stormed out, slamming the door after her. The walls of the cabin shook and dirt from the roof sifted in from the impact.
A hollowness as deep as a rifle barrel formed in his chest. Something good had left his life forever. Reality was an enemy he couldn’t fight.
With the smell of fresh pine clinging to the thick night air, Andy gigged Big Red forward. No noise disturbed the early morning stillness besides the soft clomp of the horse’s steps, a small scraping sound, and the creaking of saddle leather. Andy had waited a couple of hours past midnight before he rode the big horse northwest from the town.
He’d attached a pole-drag and the unconscious man lay on a blanket, swaying with the movement of the horse. He worried about the rough ride and what it would do to the man, but he had to get him out of Heath. He didn’t know who or what kind of person the injured man was, but he would
have a chance if Andy had anything to say about it. He never thought for a minute that Abbey would go tell them where the man was, but eventually they would figure it out. Heath was small and so were the options.
Fort Robinson and Heath sat in a valley on the leeward side of small hills. Hundreds of years of snow runoff had gashed deep gullies in the hillside. Now lined with ponderosa pines and prickly pear, these watercourses offered concealment, but also danger from flash floods or falling rocks.
Although the traveling would be harder than the plains, Andy chose to enter one of the deeper gullies to keep from sight just in case someone was out and looking.
They rode for an hour, and then he climbed down to give Big Red a rest. After checking on the man, he mounted and rode on. He only had one place he could take him, and that was Worm. The others wouldn’t be happy with him bringing a white man to their camp, but his father would take him because of Andy.
The reservation would be the perfect place to hide him, plus, Worm would know what to do for him.
Andy had another reason for taking the man to the reservation. He had an idea of how he could get money, but he couldn’t just leave the unconscious man in his cabin and take off. He didn’t know much about those yellow rocks, but the white man considered them valuable, and if they thought he knew where they were, they’d try to make him tell them.
Big Red, as if he knew where they were going, headed on a direct course for the reservation and Andy let him choose the path. The horse’s vision was a lot better than his at night.
Even though he should have been conscious of his surroundings, Andy’s mind wandered to Abbey. A dull ache embedded itself deep in his chest—a feeling that always came when he thought of her, or more accurately, when he thought of not having her. She was out of his reach and always had been, but that didn’t make it any easier.
He sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the freshness of the early morning and the solitude.
