"How are you doing?" Collier asked.
"I'm all right, Lane. Just a little stiff."
Collier looked to the west and above. A blue-black thunder head was building very rapidly. The leading edge was already above them. The nearly constant south wind had ceased and a much cooler westerly breeze was building with the approach of the storm. No cover could be found. They could see only gently rolling grassy hills in any direction. A great black wall was now hiding the late afternoon sun.
"I'm in good shape," Nell said. Don't worry about me. I can make it."
He shook his head. "I'm concerned for both of us. Look at that storm."
"I'm not made of sugar. I will be all right.".
"No! Look at that white cloud swirling inside the blue. Feel the air. Notice the cold."
"So?" She looked to him for explanation.
"There's hail in that storm. Out here with no cover, hail can kill!"
She turned again toward the clouds. A wispy white cloud was gently rotating against the dark background of rain. It was strangely ghost-like, nonthreatening. "What do we do?"
Collier looked at a slight rise to the west. It wasn't much but it was all that they had. "We dig in!"
Nell wondered if Collier wasn't overreacting but she wasn't going to argue. If Collier wanted to dig in, then she would dig in.
He ran to the gentle slope and started pulling at the grass. He took a knife from his saddle bags and handed it to her. He drew his own knife and frantically dug. She joined in with equal vigor. The roaring wind rose from the west. Lightning flashes and thunder rose dramatically. Occasional large drops of extremely cold rain began to fall. It wasn't long until they had formed a six-inch ledge into the side of the hill.
The rain came behind a great roaring gust of wind. Nell lost her hat and ran it down. She hadn't gone more than thirty yards and yet it was raining so hard that she could barely see Collier waving her back to the ledge.
The roaring and the cold were intense as she made her way back to him. He took her in his arms and placed her lying face down against the ledge. He laid beside her, seemingly crushing her against the ledge and placed his saddle bags and placed them over their heads. "Hold it close to your head! It's all the protection we have! Don't let the bags off your head no matter what!"
Hail stones pelted them like rocks. As the first hail stone hit her hip, she jerked in pain and cried out. Collier placed his leg over hers. She felt him flinching as the stones struck. It wasn't marble sized hail that she had knew, but jagged chunks of ice. A large stone struck the saddle bag over her head and felt like someone had hit her with a fist. Collier grunted in pain. Nell struggled to contain her cries. She was afraid that she was going to lose consciousness.
"Please God! Make it stop!" She prayed.
As suddenly as the hail came, it was gone. She felt Collier's body relax against her. His arm was laying over her. She reached for his hand.
"How are you?" She asked.
"I'm alive. God! I didn't know how much more I could take." He rolled away from her and tried to sit.
Rain fell steadily. She helped him work his way against the ledge. He was favoring his right arm, holding it with his left.
"Is it bad?" She asked, a steady stream of water was running off the brim of her hat.
"I don't think so. I got hit in the elbow. It's just painful."
She looked to the ground. Large, jagged, apple-sized ice crystals were in front and around them. She picked one up.
"It's a good thing we had those saddle bags," Collier sighed. "Those damned things would have killed us if they had hit us in the head."
"What more can happen? How much can we take?" she said in misery.
Collier drew her close, drawing and giving warmth to her body. "I'm afraid we're in for a long night."
"Thank God. You're all right. I don't know what I would have done."
"You would have gone on. You would have survived. That's what you would have done." Collier held her closer.
It was the longest, most miserable night of her life. Getting comfortable was impossible. She was cold, wet and stiff. She hated this country. How could anyone want to stay out here? She cursed it under her breath. God! She hated Kansas! She thought of the house that she had left in Missouri, her warm bed and her family. She hated Nathan for bringing her out to this place. What a son-of-a-bitch he was! She was glad that he was dead. Surely he was dead. Why couldn't he be out here instead of her?
The raining finally stopped shortly before sunrise. When the sun came up, the cloud cover quickly covered it. Collier retrieved a piece of buffalo meat, cut a large chunk and gave it to her.
She noticed that he was having problems with stiffness in his arm. "You're hurting pretty badly, aren't you?"
"I'll be all right." He took a bite of the meat. "We need to get moving. We'll never get warm sitting here."
She forced herself to stand with Collier's help. The pain of her stiff joints nagged at her. "How far?" She asked.
"Far enough." He handed her the Colt revolver and started off across the prairie. Gentle drizzle felt warm compared to her wet clothes.
He held her hand. "Come on, Nell. It isn't that far."
His warm hand felt good. She took courage and followed.
CHAPTER XIV
It was midday before the sun came out. They rested and finished the meat. She felt better the longer she walked and after her clothing dried, she did well. Her feet were sore from wet shoes. She removed them while they rested. Although he was stiff and sore, his spirits were lifting as they neared the Fox ranch. Collier told of the time that he had helped with the birth of the Fox's youngest, a little girl with coal black hair, named Annie. He described Ellen Fox as a brave, solid woman. Nell experienced jealousy as he talked. She realized how important he was to her. He was a good, caring man. She compared how different he was from Nathan. He could be a good husband. She had a farm in St. Joe. They could make a good life together if he would settle for it. She didn't know. He seemed infatuated with the plains and seemed to thrive on its challenges. Her thoughts drifted to Nathan. What if he wasn't dead? If he had survived, there was no place for him with her, Lane Collier or not, she wouldn't accept his abuse again.
They walked on as the sky cleared. After several hours he stopped and pointed toward low hills before them. "We're almost there. It's just over the rise."
They raced to the top of the hill and saw the homestead nestled in the basin. The place was much smaller than she expected. Mostly dugouts, it was set in the side of a gentle hill. A small sod barn with simple corrals were below. She started down the hill but Collier took hold of her arm.
His expression was cold and hard. "Something's wrong."
She studied the ranch. The corrals were empty. The gate was open. The form of a body lay about halfway between the house and barn, near the well. Her lips trembled. Her stomach felt empty, sick.
"You'd better stay here. I'll check things out," he said.
"No, I'll go along."
"It could be bad."
"I can handle it."
As they approached, they realized that they scalped the body.
"Do you know him?" she asked.
"No, must be a hired man." He went on toward the house. He cocked his rifle and stepped into the open door.
She waited and watched. It was stone silent.
Collier was in the house for several minutes. He came out, leaned his rifle against the wall and sat on the ground next to the doorway. She approached cautiously. He looked up at her. His eyes were red, his face dark. "Dead, all dead. They've stolen the little girl."
"I'm so sorry."
"They'll need burying. I'd like to clean them up a little first."
"Of course, I'll help all I can."
The dugout smelled of gunpowder and blood. They had not scalped the woman like the rest. There was a bullet hole her left temple, and black powder burns around it. No weapon was near but no weapons were present anywhere. The
Indians had taken them. They had looted the house but it was mostly as it should have been for normal daily activity. Clothing and household articles were scattered throughout the room. The body of a large bearded man was near the door. They had scalped him but not otherwise mutilated his body. It was nothing like the mutilations at the river.
"They left in a hurry. Something else had their attention."
Collier lifted Ellen to the table. He soaked a cloth in water from a bucket. He began gently washing her face.
Nell thought she looked plain and hard. Her thin frame and features showed the signs of a hard life. She was apparently a clean, neat woman in her daily living. "How long have they been dead?" she asked.
"A few hours. No more. I'm surprised we didn't hear any shooting."
"Then, they're near?"
"I don't think so. This was hit and run. They were in a hurry." He paused for a moment. "Maybe I should check things out. I'd hate to be wrong."
"Go on, Lane. I'll take care of this."
He seemed relieved. "I'll be back shortly."
Nell bathed the woman carefully and fixed her hair. She then turned her attentions to the man. She was taken by how young his features were. She didn't know how to handle the scalp wound and decided to wait for Lane. She straightened out the body and folded his hands across his chest. He was too heavy for her to lift alone. She cleaned the body on the floor where it was. After a while, she became concerned about Lane. She stepped to the door of the dugout. All was quiet. An uneasy feeling came upon her. She turned back to the table and retrieved the Colt revolver. She examined it to make sure that it was in order. She thought of Collier's talk about the sixth shot and looked at the woman. Tears came to her eyes but she shook it off. She looked out the doorway, cocked the hammer and waited.
Collier was surprised when he saw her with the revolver.
"I'm sorry, Lane. I wasn't sure who was there."
He smiled. "No. I should have known better and been more careful. You're doing perfectly right."
"Are they gone?"
"Yeah, it's clear. The place is abandoned."
"I didn't know what to do about the scalp wound on the man."
He looked at Fox's body. "You did fine."
She hesitated at asking about the woman but she had to know. "Do you think that he shot her?"
Collier's eyes turned to the thin frame of the woman on the table. "He loved her. That's all that matters."
She hesitated. She thought how simple it seemed for Collier, a hard man in a hard land and yet a compassionate friend who did not judge. "Of course."
Collier turned for the door. "I'll bring in the other body. If you don't mind, I'll start digging while you work on him."
She thought how exhausted Collier appeared and what a strain it must be for him.
"That's fine."
He brought the third body into the house and placed it on the floor next to Fox. She went to work. She was about finished when she heard Lane's voice calling to her. She grabbed the revolver and ran to the sound of his voice. He was standing at the top of a nearby hill. A grave was already started.
"Look at that," he said. "Would you look at that?"
She came to his side and looked in the direction he pointed. A freshly worked field lay at the base of the slope. She shaded her eyes to make sure that she was seeing correctly. "How? How could it be?"
"I don't know. I can't imagine."
Annie Fox was digging in the dirt of the field with a large wooden spoon.
CHAPTER XV
They took Annie to the dugout and fed her some bread. Collier said that her mother probably hid her in the root cellar at the back of the dugout. It was common practice to do so if Indians threatened. The door was open and they found her blanket and a homemade corn cob doll in the far corner under the potato shelf.
It was almost dark before Lane finished the burials. While he worked Nell bathed Annie and straightened out the dugout. She started a meal of boiled potatoes and onions. She removed her head bandage, cleaned herself and examined her wound in a broken fragment of the mirror. It would leave a scar but it was beneath the hair line and would hardly be noticeable, if at all. She thought of ways of arranging her hair so that it would not show.
When the time came for the burials, they wrapped the bodies in burlap and lowered them into the ground with ropes. As the sun set, he finished closing the graves and she joined him for a service. They drove three crude crosses made of laths at the head of each.
She held Annie and watched the setting sun silhouette behind the crosses. Collier stood beside her and removed his hat. "These were good people. John and Ellen had little to nothing when they came out here. They worked hard and built this place out of nothing. I know they loved each other. I saw it in their eyes and the way they respected each other. I never heard a harsh word spoken when I was with them. Wherever they are now, I hope they are together. I know that is the way they would have wanted it." He picked up the shovel and turned toward the house.
Nell watched him and smiled. "I hope someone will say something as kind as that over my grave. It was a fine tribute."
He nodded but did not answer.
"Well, you certainly have changed things." He said as he entered the dugout.
"I took the liberty of taking one of her dresses," she said.
"I don't think it matters one bit," he smiled and said.
She realized how easily and often he smiled.
"That smells good." He looked at the boiling potatoes and onions on the small stove. "Ellen was proud of that stove. It was one of her most precious possessions. But, here you two are, all cleaned up and pretty, and I must look almost as bad as I smell."
She pointed to a pitcher and basin on a small wash table. "All ready for you."
"Good! I'll just clean up a little before we eat."
He removed his shirt and she noticed the dark bruises on his back and elbow. They were heavy and painful looking. "Are those from the storm?" she asked knowing the answer.
"Yeah, I'm kind of a mess."
She saw the bullet wound along his side and stepped closer to examine it.
"Lane, that's infected! Isn't it awfully painful?"
"I suppose so. I really hadn't noticed."
"That arm and filthy bandage. That needs attention."
She led him to a chair and had him sit. She cleaned and bandaged his side and his arm. As she knelt before him working on his arm, he caught a whiff of her freshly-washed hair.
"You smell good."
"Certainly better than before," she said without looking up.
He watched her as she worked thinking how very attractive she was.
When she finished with the wounds, she took his hands in hers. "There, that should be better."
He liked her touch. "It is. I've never been treated so well."
She smiled. "You deserve it."
He found a comb and razor by the basin. It felt good to be clean. She brought one of Fox's shirts to Collier and placed it beside him on the table. The potatoes and onions were on the table when he finished buttoning the shirt. It was a little big and short in the sleeves but much better that the rag that he was wearing.
Nell leaned back in her chair as Collier approached the table. "Why, Lane Collier, you're a right handsome man."
"Have to be in the company of such pretty ladies."
Annie was placed in a special chair that her father had built for her and given a plate of food. She set into the potatoes and ate heartily.
"She seems to be doing all right," he said.
Nell looked at her with admiring eyes. "Isn't she beautiful?"
"No more than the day that she was born."
He set about eating his meal. They were quiet as they ate.
"What do we do now?" Nell asked as he finished.
"It's another thirty miles to the Frizzel ranch. I guess we rest up tonight and head east. The sooner we get to help, the better."
Nell looked at Annie.
"She'll have a rough time making it."
Collier smiled. "We'll get her there. She's not too heavy."
After the meal, Nell made up the beds and put the child down to sleep. Collier spent most the time cleaning his guns and watching out the doorway.
She joined him in front of the dugout. It was a quiet, still night.
"Put Annie to bed?" he asked.
"Yes, she asked for her mommy."
Fort Larned Page 6
