Halle got to her feet, watched as blood gushed from the wound in Antonio’s arm.
“Oh, God. You’ve been shot!” Out of the corner of her eye, she detected movement. She turned in time to catch the man lifting his gun again. He was alive! “Antonio!”
She launched herself at Antonio to shove him out of the way, not hearing the gunshot until she felt hot searing pain rip through her upper back.
Antonio caught her in one arm. “Halle, no! Oh, God, no!”
She looked into his eyes, his beautiful gray eyes, as he clutched her. Tears blurred her vision. “Don’t be angry with me. I only wanted—”
But he turned his face and raised his pistol. A single, deafening shot rang out, and the gun clattered to the floor
Antonio pulled her against him, stroked her hair. “I’m not angry. I’m not. Stay with me, Halle.”
She was sorry she’d taken the children without permission and tricked him into following her back to Albuquerque. If only she’d remained in The People’s camp, none of this would have happened. “I love you,” she whispered.
He clutched her tighter, “I love you, too.”
She’d waited her whole life to hear someone say those three simple words—and now it was over. “I’m going to die.”
“No! You will not die!”
Stella appeared at her side.
I’m here, baby girl.
“Stella. You came back.”
It’s time to leave, Halle.
“Leave? But the children need me. Antonio needs me.”
It’s all right, sugar. It’s supposed to end this way.
Stella’s warm arm slipped around her shoulder and she began to glow. Come with me and I’ll explain everything.
But Halle’s world went black. And silent.
* * * * *
Antonio carried Halle to the bed, aware of the severity of his own injuries but not caring. Halle couldn’t die! Within moments the room filled with people—Molly, Maeve, Rosa, Pedro and Ben, followed by Tani, Lukachukai and Diego. Several of the other ladies also gathered at the door.
“I need my surgical tools.” Antonio ripped open the back of Halle’s blood saturated dress. “They are in my saddle bag.”
He quickly inspected her, his heart lurching in his chest. No exit wound. Ripping a strip of cloth from his shirt, he turned her onto her side and daubed the fabric at the point of entry. Blood gushed from the hole, making it difficult to see. “Molly, bring clean cloths and press them to the wound. Hold firm and don’t release until I tell you. Ben—somebody—hurry and get my bag.” He prayed silently the bullet hadn’t struck an artery.
Molly moved to his side pressed a towel to the hole in Halle’s back. The cloth quickly soaked up blood. Tani grabbed another and handed it to her.
“Don’t worry about a new one. Just apply slightly more pressure,” he instructed the two women. Ben returned in record time. Antonio opened the case and gathered a few surgical instruments.
“She…can’t…die.” Molly sobbed the words. “You gotta save her!”
“Maeve, bring a pitcher and a basin,” he called out. “Rosa, rip bandages from clean towels and bring fresh water.”
It had been years since he removed a bullet. He only hoped it hadn’t hit bone and splintered fragments into internal organs or tissue. He was not well equipped, nor surgically trained. Right now she appeared to have minor difficulty breathing. His body shuddered involuntarily at the thought the slug might have pierced her lung—or worse. “She needs a real doctor. I am not a surgeon.”
“Too bad. You’re the only doctor we got right now.” Molly reached beneath her skirt and produced a small razor sharp knife. “Use this to cut her clothes away.”
Antonio sliced away the remaining fabric of Halle’s dress and the chemise beneath.
Throwing off one blood soaked rag, Molly grabbed another towel and once again applied pressure while Antonio rolled up his sleeves and selected his surgical instruments. Rosa brought a pan of hot water from the kitchen and he dipped his hands.
Trembling, Antonio handed the probe and a few other tools to Tani. “Rinse and dry these.”
Molly lifted the cloth and his stomach churned as he examined the wound once more. He prayed the bullet hadn’t embedded deeply, or worse, the slug lodged in one of her vital organs. He fought the wave of dizziness that threatened to engulf him, remembering that he too was losing blood fast. Then Ben was behind him, steadying him with large, warm hands.
“Whitehorse has been shot up pretty bad, too, Molly.” Ben pressed a cloth to his wounded shoulder. “I sent the messenger boy for another doctor, but it could be a while before he gets here. Word is he’s tending to a sick child about eight miles out.”
Molly made a face. “Damn it, Whitehorse. You gotta stay conscious. You’re the only one around with any doctorin’ know-how.”
In pain, and growing weaker, Antonio fought to keep his eyes open, his hand steady. Then he heard a woman’s voice and turned.
“Hello Antonio.”
It was as if the room fell away and the only people in that moment were he, Halle and a mysterious gray-haired mulatto woman
“Who are you?”
“I’m Halle’s great great grandmother, Stella.”
He blinked hard, shook his head. “I am imagining things.”
“You’re not imagining anything, son. I know Halle’s told you about me. But she only knows me as her Guide—not as her grandmother. I’ve come to assist you.” She glanced at Halle. “It appears I arrived just in time. Poor baby. She took that bullet to save your life.”
Blinking hard, he shook off the hallucination. The room came back into focus.
Molly stared. “Do it.” She nodded to the tray holding the probe.
Weakly, he lifted the instrument. “Who is the woman to my left?” he asked.
Molly blinked. “You seein’ things now?”
“There is a woman sitting beside me.”
Tani shrugged. “I do not see anyone.”
Molly shook her head. “There ain’t anyone nearby except for me and Ben.”
A chill shook him as he turned to face the woman again. “I can see you. You’re real.”
“Yes, I’m very real,” Stella assured him, “And I’m here to help you. I told Halle I would never abandon her, and I won’t abandon you either.”
The woman laid her hand atop his. Antonio’s and fingertips began to tingle, then to burn as if hot lead were pulsing through them. He gritted his teeth in pain and tried to draw back his hand, but it wouldn’t move. What had she done to his hand? His vision blurred and he struggled to fight the swell of darkness that threatened to overtake him. He could not continue, not when he was weak and close to collapse.
Then, the woman removed her hand and the tingling and burning ceased. “You take care of my grand daughter you hear?” She gave a curt nod. “She’s special to me. You both are. I just know you two are going to accomplish great things together.” The woman vanished.
He expected she might reappear, but soon realized he was on his own. The snap of Molly’s fingers brought him back into the moment. She removed the blood soaked towel and Tani hustled it away. The wound continued to pulse blood. Antonio’s gaze narrowed in on the hole.
“Blot,” he instructed. Molly did as he asked. “Now lift the cloth.”
He inserted the probe, his heart leaping in his chest when it hit the bullet. Thank God. It wasn’t as deep as he’d thought, perhaps only half an inch. He withdrew the probe, wiped the white tipped end on a clean cloth, finding no gunpowder residue or shards of bone. A good sign.
Easing the bullet out bit by bit, Molly sopped up the blood on cue. Using the forceps, he worked the end of the slug out and dropped it into a waiting bowl with a clunk. Weak from loss of blood, the instrument slid from his hand and clattered across the floor.
Woozy, the room spinning, he stared at Molly, then at the crowd that had gathered around them. Faces blurred together. Someone handed
him a needle with surgical thread. Tani? Heat suffocated him but he worked to close Halle’s wound even as pain clawed at his insides and darkness shadowed his senses.
He was at the clear pool of water again with Halle. He slipped into the refreshing water with her, his arms going around her, drawing her close. Tilting her face up to his, he lowered his lips to hers.
“I’ve searched for you so long,” he whispered against her mouth. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you.”
Molly smacked his cheek, jerking him from his daydream. “Stay with me, Whitehorse. You’re almost finished.”
Swallowing the hard, aching knot in his throat, he drew in a deep, steadying breath. He had to keep his wits about him and fight the encroaching darkness.
If Halle died because of his lack of surgical knowledge...
No, that would not happen! The bullet was out and the flow of blood had slowed. He prayed silently that the child growing inside her womb survived the trauma.
He finished suturing, then slumped against the bed post for support. Glancing down, he noted his shirt saturated with blood. His or hers? He wasn’t certain. He closed his eyes as darkness threatened.
“Halle needs to be bathed and covered with a warm blanket,” he instructed Molly. “And Tani?
The girl hurried to his side. “Yes.”
“If fever comes, find willow bark. Make a strong tea for her and change her dressing every day to avoid infection.”
“I will.”
The room began to spin. Ben’s strong arms lifted him onto the bed. Several other faceless people gathered around. Leaning over him, Molly ripped open his shirt. He lifted a weak arm in protest. “Sorry, Molly, but I am already spoken for.” He chuckled at his poor attempt at humor.
Molly made a sour face. “Stay awake, you hear? I need you to talk me through this.”
He stared at her through the sting of perspiration, realization slowly sinking in. “You are not going to remove the bullet.”
“Got a better plan?”
He didn’t.
“All right Whitehorse. Tell me what to do first.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Four Years Later, Early Spring 1867
Rancho de los Santos, Southern California
Antonio gazed out over the Santa Maria River below as he waited for the day’s festivities to begin. The tan, light woolen suit he’d donned was hot and itchy, despite the cool spring temperatures in the valley.
He found it difficult to believe four and a half years had passed since they’d fled Albuquerque, mere days before soldiers stormed the city, turning up every watering trough and outhouse in their search for the mysterious fugitive they knew only as Whitehorse.
There was still a bounty on his head. Always would be. Dead or Alive the time-weathered, and now nearly unreadable posters still read at one of the local mercantiles.
In his years following his departure from The Territory, Whitehorse had become somewhat of a legend among soldiers and children alike. The press had painted him as a larger than life wild and savage man—a half breed who robbed from the wealthy and gave the spoils to the poor. There were serial stories about his daring adventures published in some of the major newspapers back east. Occasionally on the street he’d spy young boys playing outlaw—one of them calling the other Whitehorse. He supposed that one day the government would find him and when they did, he would stand trial and be executed. Unfortunately, he knew all too well that he past always had a way of catching up with a man.
Other than his closest friends and family, he was now known throughout the valley as Doctor Antonio de los Santos—devoted husband and father, as well as a respected visionary in the medical field.
A year following his arrival at Rancho de los Santos, he’d read newspaper reports that a few starving Navajo headmen—Barboncito, Delgadito, Armijo and others—surrendered along with their tribesmen. His uncle, Chief Manuelito, held out until last year. He regretted he had not been able to save The People from incarceration at Bosque Redondo, but hoped one day he might reunite with his aunt and cousin, Sonny.
After petitioning President Abraham Lincoln, and then his successor President Andrew Johnson following the assassination, there was now talk of the government releasing the Navajo to a reservation on a portion of their former lands. But that dream was months, if not a year or more away. Still, he would continue to write letters, imploring the President to reconsider. He would never give up his quest for The People’s freedom.
The sound of Tani’s footfalls behind him plucked him from his deep, disturbing concerns.
“People are arriving!” she cried.
He turned in time to catch Diego and his son, Lukachukai also coming toward him, disgust etched on thirteen year old Lukachukai’s face. Although Lukachukai had dressed in a suit jacket, shirt and tie, he hadn’t changed from his buckskin breeches. Their matching gray suit jackets and crisp, starched white shirts were undoubtedly as uncomfortable as his. Lukachukai’s face was freshly-scrubbed, his long dark hair slicked back with hair dressing and tied neatly.
Some parts of their heritage had remained unchanged, despite the drastic cultural upheaval of recent years. The unmistakable scent of bayberry shaving soap wafted on the breeze. To his astonishment, he realized Lukachukai had shaved.
Antonio cleared his throat. “Shiye.” He rubbed a hand over his chin and jaw. “What is this about?”
“I let him use my razor,” eighteen year-old Diego answered.
Tani was right behind the young men, a stunning sight in the yellow gown Halle had sewn from imported silk. At twenty, his cousin had grown into a beautiful young woman. Today, her long jet hair was upswept and adorned with velvet ribbons to match her dress.
Lukachukai, he noted, also wore the life like, semi-functioning prosthetic hand he and Halle fashioned from wood, leather and sinew. More than two years in the making and hundreds of drawing’s and archetypes later, she’d helped him craft a realistic looking limb for the boy.
“When this is over I am changing.” Lukachukai plucked at his black bow tie.
“Not until after the party.” Tani straightened it. “People are coming from all over to see the new hospital—even a lady doctor from the place called New York.”
“But I look nice in my other clothes. These are stupid ones, tight and hot and itchy.”
Tani pinched his cheek and he jerked his face away. “Oooh, you look so handsome, Lukachukai. Just like a man. I think a pretty girl might ask you to dance tonight.”
A shy Lukachukai pulled a face. “I will not dance with a girl.” He implored his father with his eyes. “Shizhee, tell me I do not have to dance with girls.”
“Only if you wish, son.”
“I do not wish. I have seen the girls who are here. They move in packs, yipping like coyotes. Yip-yip-yip-yip-yip.”
Diego laughed and slapped Lukachukai on the back. ”Well I, too, have seen the girls who have arrived and I intend to dance with every one of them before the night is through.”
Antonio chuckled, then started back toward the villa. “Come along, everyone. Let us greet our guests in grand De los Santos fashion.”
They were met on the rear lawn by Molly and Maeve, who’d hauled platters of juicy, fire roasted meats and bowls of fresh, sliced fruits to gaily festooned tables set with bright linen cloths and fresh cut flowers from the hot house. Ben assisted too, tending the slabs of thick beef and pork ribs and sizzling link sausages set on the grills since the evening before. Max stood sentry by a smoking pit as if anticipating tasty casualties in the way of a felled tidbit.
Halle, dressed in a pale green gown that flowed like a mist about her, burst down the flagstone walkway with six-month old twins Lily and Lucy and on either hip. Two and three year old toddlers, Kate and Jesse, ran behind their mother, clutching at her skirts as they tried to keep up.
She thrust the squirming infants at Tani and Diego. “Please take the children into the house to Rosa whi
le Antonio and I greet arriving guests. Dr. Gruever and his wife have arrived from Boston.” She turned to Antonio, fussed with his bow tie and straightened the collar on his suit. “I spoke to them briefly. They seem like very nice people. They even brought the children gifts—ponies! Can you believe it?”
Antonio tugged at his shirt collar. “I feel as though I have a noose around my neck.”
“I don’t know who is more nervous about today, you or me?”
“I’d say it’s both of you.”
They both turned to see Stella, smiling. “Now, don’t worry about a thing, you two. It’s going to be a great day. Get on out there and enjoy the party. You’ve worked long and hard on this project and today is your day to celebrate.”
Stella vanished.
Antonio shook his head. “Your grandmother is aware that I don’t appreciate her dropping by unexpectedly.”
Halle patted his cheek affectionately. “Well I think it’s rather comforting to know she’s always watching over us and the children. But that reminds me, I need to talk to you about something important.” She took his hands in hers.” I think you’re going to be so excited, almost as much as when I told you I was expecting Lucy and Lily.”
His heart dipped. “You’re not pregnant again? It’s only been six months since the girls were born. We’ve been careful.”
She released him gave him a playful punch in the arm. “No silly. I’m not pregnant. If I were, it would be your gonads roasting on the pit right now instead of Mr. Pig’s. This is about Tani. I think a young man is going to ask us if they can get married.”
Antonio’s face darkened. “Tani is still a child. She cannot marry. She’s still in school and will be for a few more years if I have any say in the matter.”
“She’s twenty—almost twenty one, Antonio, and a grown woman with needs.”
“All she needs is a proper education, which she will obtain before marrying.”
“What if I said he’s interested in training under you?”
Antonio hesitated, then looped his arm for her to take it. “Tell me more as we walk.”
Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) Page 33
