Wild Abandon

by Cassie Edwards

  Lauralee fidgeted with the gathers of the skirt of her dress as she waited for Abner to return.

  She stared at the closed door, then allowed her gaze to move slowly down the corridor again. This time something at the far end of the passageway drew her attention. A man sat in the shadows outside a room, a gun heavy in a holster at his left hip, a badge reflecting the light of a lamp in it. It was a lawman.

  Curiosity getting the best of Lauralee, she walked slowly toward the man. She couldn’t help but wonder if a criminal was locked up in this room. If so, what sort of crime had he committed?

  From outward appearances Mattoon did not seem to be the kind of city that would allow criminals to run loose. It looked like a beautifully clean and respectable place.

  But she also knew that the railroads had caused many saloons to be built in the city, which in turn attracted all sorts of men. Even criminals.

  Lauralee tiptoed up to the lawman. When he gave her a hard look, his eyes squinting up at her, a shiver soared through her.

  Yet she refused to be intimidated.

  “Sir, it seems that you are perhaps guarding someone in that room,” she said stiffly. “Is it a hardened criminal? What might he have done?”

  “His biggest mistake was comin’ to Mattoon,” the lawman said. He scooted his chair back as he stood up, towering over Lauralee with his six-foot-four height. “I killed the likes of him in the war. Damn shame I’ve been given orders to protect him now from someone like me who’d like to see him hangin’ from a noose.”

  Lauralee paled and placed a hand to her throat. She knew that his lawman had fought for the Union. The one he was guarding had to have been a Rebel. Panic grabbed her insides. She was keenly aware of one man in particular who was from the South and had just recently come to Mattoon, enemy territory in his mind, heart, and soul.

  “Sir, are you saying that this man you are guarding is not a criminal?” she asked, her heart pounding, afraid to hear the answer.

  “Naw, not exactly,” he said, raking his long, lean fingers through his shoulder-length brassy-colored hair. “Just got himself into a bit of trouble. If he’d stayed south, he’d not be fightin’ for his life. As it is, he escorted some dumb broad from Saint Louis to Mattoon and got himself into a peck of trouble ’cause of it.”

  Lauralee felt faint. She grabbed for the wall, to steady herself. She looked wild-eyed up at the lawman. “Is by chance that man Cherokee?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  “How’d you guess that?” the lawman said, idly scratching his brow.

  “Because, sir, I have a feeling that I am that dumb broad from Saint Louis who you so callously referred to,” Lauralee said, her voice trembling.

  She shoved past him and opened the door. She then died a slow death inside when her gaze sought and found Dancing Cloud lying still on the bed, a sheet drawn up to his waist, his chest totally bandaged.

  “Ma’am, you ain’t s’posed to be in here,” the lawman said as he stepped up to Lauralee and grabbed her by an elbow. “Come on, ma’am. I’ve been given strict orders not to let this Injun be disturbed.”

  Lauralee wrenched herself free. She turned and glared icily up at the lawman. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” she said, her voice tight with anger. “I am that woman who was escorted to Mattoon by this man. Don’t you dare lay a hand on me again. I’m staying with Dancing Cloud.”

  “Dancing Cloud?” the lawman said, peering over at him. “So that’s what his Indian name is.” He shrugged. “I was told that his name was Joe. Should’ve known that an Injun would have to have an Injun name.”

  Lauralee gave the lawman a shove. “Get out of here,” she cried. “Take your insults with you.”

  The lawman shrugged and turned to leave, then Lauralee rushed to him and grabbed his arm. “Who did this to Dancing Cloud?” she asked, pleading up at him as he turned cold, angry eyes down at her. “Who brought him to the hospital?”

  “Noah Brown found him on his land,” the lawman said, resting a hand on his holstered pistol. “Seems someone who still carries the same grudge as me against Rebels took a shot at ’im.” He smiled slowly and smugly. “I doubt this rebel Injun’s goin’ to ever see the light of day again. The shoulder wound was bad. Bad.”

  Shivers of dread ran up and down Lauralee’s spine. Tears spread across her cheeks as she turned and gazed at Dancing Cloud. “No,” she whispered, a sob lodging in her throat. “He can’t die. He just can’t die.”

  The lawman left and closed the door behind him. Lauralee went to Dancing Cloud’s bedside and searched beneath the sheet for one of his hands.

  When she found the one that lay at his right side, the one closest to her, she slipped her fingers through his and stared down at him.

  So beautifully sculpted, so beautifully bronzed, but yet so deeply unconscious! she thought to herself, sighing heavily.

  Footsteps entering the room behind her caused her to flinch. She slipped her hand from Dancing Cloud’s and turned around, then realized that in her despair over Dancing Cloud’s condition, she had forgotten about Nancy. Abner was standing there, his eyes heavy, his face gaunt.

  “How is she?” Lauralee asked, going to him. She splayed her fingers across his massive chest. “Please tell me that she’s going to be all right.”

  “It was a slight heart attack,” Abner said, drawing her into his embrace, his eyes locked on Dancing Cloud. “She’ll be all right. But she’ll be delicate as a flower for the rest of her life, Lauralee. We’ll have to treat her thusly.”

  “I’ll do everything I can for her,” Lauralee murmured, then slipped from his arms and followed his gaze as she again looked at Dancing Cloud.

  “I only heard a moment ago about Joe Dancing Cloud,” Abner said, moving slowly toward the bed. “Lord, what’s this world coming to when a man can’t ride along the trail without being ambushed?”

  “Who did it, Uncle Abner?” Lauralee asked, moving to touch Dancing Cloud’s face.

  “Noah Brown found him. That’s all I know,” Abner said thickly. “I’m not at all surprised that Noah brought Joe to the hospital. Although Noah lost his son Brad in the war, he’s not the kind of person who’d allow a man to die of gunshot wounds, especially during these times of peace. Not even if the man who’s shot is known to have fought for the South.”

  He kneaded his chin and looked over at Lauralee. “But as for who did this,” he said, his voice drawn. “Your guess is as good as mine. Noah said he heard shots. He found Joe Dancing Cloud. That’s all he had to say about it.”

  Dancing Cloud moaned and his head turned to one side.

  Lauralee dropped to her knees beside the bed, her heart beating anxiously. “I’m here, darling,” she murmured, again slipping her hand beneath the sheet, to intertwine with his. “Darling, oh, darling, please wake up.”

  Abner’s insides splashed cold when he saw Lauralee’s devotion to the Cherokee. Now her legal guardian, Abner would never want to see her aligned with an Indian, especially one who fought against the northern cause during the war. He wanted better for her. There were many young, unmarried men in Mattoon who would make Lauralee a deserving husband.

  Noah’s son Paul!

  Now that was a man who was hardworking on the farm, and whose dedications to the northern cause had been the same as his brother’s.

  Abner tapped Lauralee on the shoulder. “Lauralee, can you step outside in the corridor for a moment?” he asked stiffly.

  Lauralee looked up at him guardedly, knowing why he wanted her to leave Dancing Cloud’s room. He had just witnessed her true feelings for the Cherokee. It was obvious that he did not approve.

  “Uncle Abner, I can’t leave just yet,” she murmured. “Dancing Cloud is showing signs of awakening.”

  Abner’s upper lip stiffened. His eyes narrowed, then he left the room in a dignified, slow stance.

  Lauralee gazed down at Dancing Cloud again. “He’ll never understand, darling,” she whispered. She leaned down and gave him a
soft, lingering kiss. She ached inside over his lack of response.

  Tears flowing down her cheeks. Lauralee scooted a chair beside the bed and waited . . . and . . . watched....

  Chapter 12

  When at eve, thou rovest,

  By the star, thou lovest,

  O then remember me!

  —THOMAS MOORE

  Dancing Cloud felt pressure on his hand. A sweet, soft pressure. He felt the black fuzziness floating away. A dim, golden light was beckoning his eyes to open.

  But the more aware he became of things, the more he realized the depths of the pain in his right shoulder. He groaned as he fluttered his eyelashes.

  Lauralee stifled a cry of relief behind a hand when she heard Dancing Cloud make a sound and saw his eyes slowly opening. She rose to her feet and leaned low over him, her hands framing his face. She smiled down at him as his eyes locked with hers.

  “Darling?” Lauralee said, tears warm against her cheeks. “Dancing Cloud, I’m here. Once I knew that you were here I haven’t left your bedside.”

  She so badly wanted to hug him, but the bandages around his chest and up over his right shoulder gave her reason not to. She was afraid of hurting him.

  “Lauralee?” Dancing Cloud said, his voice weak. “O-ge-ye? Where am I? How did I get here?”

  Lauralee dreaded telling him about the ambush. It made her feel sick inside to know that someone could resent him this much. She was not sure if the resentment centered on him being a southern Rebel, or an Indian.

  Either way, she regretted that he had been a target for someone’s prejudices.

  “Do you remember anything about the shooting?” Lauralee asked, easing down on the bed beside him. She gently stroked his brow. “You didn’t get far from Mattoon. A farmer . . . a Noah Brown found you.”

  Remembrances then came to Dancing Cloud in flashes. He had been aware enough of things going on around him after he had been shot by Clint McCloud to recall a kind man coming to his rescue.

  If he recalled accurately enough, the man had said something to Dancing Cloud’s assailant about having lost a son in the Civil War, himself.

  But that had not stopped the flow of this man’s compassion for an injured man from the South.

  Dancing Cloud had passed out before he had actually been transported to the city.

  Yet he would never forget the very instant that he was shot, nor by whom.

  “Dancing Cloud, can’t you remember how this happened?” Lauralee pleaded. “Can you describe the man who shot you?”

  “I remember most of it,” Dancing Cloud said, wincing when a fresh rush of pain flowed through his wound. He looked slowly around. “Where am I? Who cared for my wound?”

  “A Dr. Kemper cared for you and performed the operation,” Lauralee murmured. She stroked his cheek. “To date, Mattoon has no true hospital. Dr. Kemper has turned his private home into a medical center. It seems to me that thus far it is serving the community adequately enough. The proof is in how the doctor was able to operate on you to remove the bullet, and to repair the damage the bullet caused.”

  Footsteps entering the room caused Lauralee’s eyes to shift upward. She gave Dr. Kemper a sincere smile as he walked toward the bed.

  “I see our patient has awakened,” the doctor said, stopping to stand beside the bed. Everything became quiet as he leaned over and listened to Dancing Cloud’s heartbeat with a stethoscope, while with his free hand he felt the rhythm of his pulse.

  Lauralee looked adoringly at Dancing Cloud. She was grateful that he had finally awakened. She now even believed that he would have a full recovery. Soon Dancing Cloud would be well enough to leave the hospital.

  She would make sure that he did not take off right away for his home in the mountains. He needed adequate time for total recovery. She would enjoy doting over him.

  Her only concern was that the Petersons might resent her asking them to allow him to stay at their house. She had seen how her uncle felt about Dancing Cloud the instant he had seen her attentiveness toward him.

  She had to chance going against their wishes.

  For Dancing Cloud, she would chance any and everything.

  Her love for him was total.

  “Seems you’re farin’ well enough,” Dr. Kemper said, slipping the stethoscope into his front suit pocket. “Ready for some food, young man? It’s way past suppertime but I made sure some broth was kept steamin’ on the stove for you.”

  “I appreciate your kindness,” Dancing Cloud said, his throat dry, his lips parched.

  “And I shall get much delight in feeding him,” Lauralee said, smiling up at the doctor.

  “Then, young lady, once he has had his fill of broth, I recommend that you go on home with Abner and get yourself a good night’s sleep,” the doctor softly urged. “Your aunt is awake now and farin’ well enough.”

  Lauralee was relieved to hear the news about her aunt. She felt guilty for having given more attention to Dancing Cloud than to her aunt Nancy.

  But her aunt had Abner.

  While Dancing Cloud was so far from his home and family, he had no one but Lauralee.

  “I’m so glad that Aunt Nancy is all right,” she said. “She will be well soon, Dr. Kemper?”

  “With a heart condition, no one is ever totally well again,” the doctor said, slipping his hands into his front suit pocket. “She’ll require plenty of tender lovin’ care.”

  “I’ll be sure she doesn’t want for a thing,” Lauralee said softly.

  “Remember now, after you see that this young man is fed, I advise you to leave,” Dr. Kemper said bluntly. “Your uncle has been given the same advice. Your aunt and this young man need a full night’s rest. You can come tomorrow at the break of dawn, if you wish, and feed him some more solid food for his breakfast.”

  “I would love to.” Lauralee smiled. She then gave Dancing Cloud a soft, wondrous gaze.

  “A nurse will bring the broth soon,” the doctor said, turning to leave. He gave Dancing Cloud a lingering gaze over his shoulder, then left the room.

  “There goes a dedicated man,” Lauralee said. “This city of Mattoon is lucky to have him. He not only gives up his home to the ailing people of the community, but gives his undivided attention to those who are ill.”

  “The doctor said something about your aunt having a heart attack?” Dancing Cloud said, reaching a shaky hand to touch Lauralee’s face.

  “Shortly after you left,” Lauralee said, leaning against his hand, melting inside at his mere touch.

  Then a thought came to her that made her grow cold inside. She drew his hand away and held it on her lap. “Lord, Dancing Cloud, had I not had cause to come to the hospital, I may have never known you were here,” she said, her eyes wavering into his. “You would have been here among total strangers.”

  Another thought sent shivers up and down her spine. “The man who shot you,” she said, her voice drawn. “I wonder if he knows that you were brought to the hospital?”

  Then she sighed when another thought came to her. “But you are protected from him,” she said. “A man of law has been placed outside your door.”

  “A lawman?” Dancing Cloud said, trying to lean up on an elbow as he looked toward the door. He groaned when the pain forced him to lay flat on his back again. “He is guarding someone he surely sees as an enemy?”

  “It’s not entirely that. But yes, it is mainly to protect you from those who do still hold deep feelings against those who they fought against during the war,” Lauralee said. She once again stroked his perspiration-laced brow. “But there are only a few heartless cads who would act on their resentments. You just ran into one of those men today while leaving Mattoon.”

  Dancing Cloud’s jaw stiffened as he recalled having come face to face with his wartime ha-ma-ma, enemy again. It was obvious that the man’s mind was twisted and might do anything to avenge his wooden leg.

  “I do know the man. My bullet wounded him during the war,” he said, giving Laur
alee a sudden look. “I am almost certain that one of his legs is gone and that a wooden one has replaced it. I could tell by the way he sat on his horse and by the way he held the leg out away from him so stiffly. This is how deep his resentment lays over having lost his leg—that he would perhaps go to any lengths to see me dead.”

  “You know the man?” Lauralee gasped. “His name, Dancing Cloud. Tell me his name. I will go to the authorities so they can hunt him down and arrest him.”

  “Clint McCloud,” Dancing Cloud said solemnly. “I have remembered that name with much anger in my heart since the war. I have remembered the face of the man.”

  “Describe him to me,” Lauralee said anxiously. “That should help the sheriff. A posse can be sent out to look for him.”

  “I am certain that many a man fits the description of my assailant,” Dancing Cloud said tersely. “I would be the only one who knows for certain that it is he. In time we shall meet face to face again. I then shall make sure he does not harm anyone else again.”

  Lauralee’s heart ached to realize now just exactly what had driven the man to shoot Dancing Cloud. And if he knew that Dancing Cloud was not dead . . .

  “I shan’t leave you tonight or any other night until you are safely out of this hospital and with me and the Petersons,” she blurted.

  “You heard the doctor,” Dancing Cloud said, taking her hand. “You will got to the Petersons and get a full night of rest, as I shall get mine here. O-ge-ye, do not fret so over this Cherokee who allowed himself to get too careless.”

  He looked slowly around the room. His gaze stopped on his clothes that were slung over a chair, as well as his saddlebags. His eyes locked on his rifle.

  Then he shifted his gaze and caught sight of his sheathed knife where it lay among his moccasins and other articles of clothing on the chair.

  “I see that someone brought my belongings to me,” he said, his voice revealing his fatigue. “Among them are my weapons.”