Love's Rescue

by Tammy Barley

  Where she was, she couldn’t guess. This was a place she had never been before, and, like the Indian man, this woman was a stranger.

  Reluctant to continue lying as though helpless, Jess rolled on one side and braced her hand against the mattress to sit up. She gasped as a sudden burning sensation raked her right arm.

  “Please, you must keep still,” the woman urged her. “The burns will hurt more if you use your arm. If you wish to sit,” she offered, “I will help.”

  Dazed, Jess allowed the kind woman to help her sit up. She took great care with Jess’s stinging arm, then placed a folded Indian blanket at her back for support.

  “I am called Red Deer,” the woman said, dipping a ladle in the water basin. “The one who brought you is my husband, Lone Wolf. Here, drink.”

  Jess complied eagerly, then thanked the woman. Finally, her mind was beginning to clear. With considerably slower movements, Jess took in her soot-blackened hands and the wide blotches of angry red skin along her arm. The burning sensation extended up her right arm and halfway across her chest. She was clothed in her linen chemise, which was good, she decided—she wouldn’t want to ruin a borrowed garment with greasy salves.

  With a sigh, Jess carefully shook back her long, tangled hair. She felt neither the weight nor the motion of her mother’s earrings. Her hand flew to her throat. The necklace was gone, too. Her jewelry! Jess scanned the dark room. To her right, her damaged cloak and gown hung on wall pegs. Her corset, petticoats, and pantalettes were folded neatly atop a dressing table. Beside them, twinkling in the pale lamplight, lay her rose and vine inlaid comb, her mother’s emerald and diamond earrings, and the emerald pendant Ambrose had given her. They were all she had left of the family she loved. From her garments drifted the bitter smell of smoke.

  Red Deer caught her gaze. “I will wash your clothing,” she assured Jess, “but I will tend to you first.” With a kind smile, Red Deer wrung a cloth soaked in water and handed it to her. Little shells that fringed her doeskin dress made gentle clinking sounds. “Do you know where you are?”

  Jess frowned as she carefully applied the cloth to her face and hands. “No, I don’t. I remember a long journey…sleeping on the ground.” The murmuring. “Men’s voices.”

  “The voices were those of the cattlemen who helped to bring you. This is the house of Jake Bennett—his ranch.”

  Jess narrowed her eyes sharply. Jake had waved his arm to someone—he must have been signaling Red Deer’s husband, Lone Wolf, to take her away. The last she’d seen Jake, he’d been standing before the blazing façade of her home, or what was left of it—right after he had let her father perish.

  “Is Bennett here?” she asked coldly.

  Red Deer frowned in confusion. “The ranchmen said he will not return for many days, but you need not worry. He will let you stay.”

  “Forgive me, Red Deer,” she countered, “but I don’t intend to stay.”

  Jake had let her family die. He should have allowed her father to try to get to her mother and Emma. He should have helped him. Instead, he held him back when they yet had a chance, and then, when it was too late to save them, he let her father die. He let them all die.

  The feelings of friendship she’d had for Jake had vanished as smoke. All she felt for him now was hatred. She would stay in Carson City with the Van Dorns until she could support herself, or she’d stay in the cramped upper room of Hale Imports, if she had to—but she would not remain at Jake’s ranch.

  Jess shoved aside the covers with her left arm and dropped her legs over the edge of the bunk. She ground her teeth against the burning in her right arm and chest, moving in spite of it.

  In alarm, Red Deer helped Jess to her feet, not certain what she was intending to do. “Do you wish to bathe now?”

  A cold sweat broke out along Jess’s skin. She felt physically ill from the burns, and she began to shake. A white haze clouded her vision. She knew she was in shock.

  “You should not do much yet,” Red Deer said in a soothing voice. “I will help you to wash and put more salve on the burns, but then you must rest. I think a terrible thing has happened to you. Sleep will help your body and your heart to heal.”

  Jess nodded weakly, unable to do anything else. Red Deer helped her lower herself into a chair. Jess noted again how her black hair was cut just a few inches above her shoulders. She, too, had lost a loved one. And recently. With all the strife between the Indians and the settlers, perhaps she knew suffering all too well. Though Jess couldn’t stop the deluge of sorrow and reminiscence, she regretted her own surly attitude. She did not want to cause this woman further sadness. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, Red Deer. Forgive me if I was unkind.”

  Red Deer reassured her with a gracious smile, then asked, “You lost someone?”

  “Yes, my family.” And any servants who didn’t make it to safety, she realized. What had happened to Elsie, Maureen, Malcolm, and Ho Chen? Were they safe?

  Red Deer’s black eyes shone in empathy. Her face was round with a softly flared nose, characteristic of the Paiute people. “I saw the way you looked at your ruined dress and ornaments,” she said. “You are one who will remember your dead with the strength of great love, Miss Hale.”

  “Please, call me Jess,” she said.

  As she carefully sponged her burns, Red Deer rinsed the cloth. “Jessica…I heard the cattlemen call you by this name. Does it have a meaning?” she asked. “I have learned that not all white names have meanings.”

  Jess shook her head, too exhausted to elaborate. She remained quiet while Red Deer applied a salve and wrapped her arm in clean strips of cloth.

  When she had finished, Red Deer said she would prepare a bath, but Jess held up a hand. “If you wouldn’t mind, I think I’ll rest again. I can bathe later, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

  “Yes, Jessica. The rest will be good. I will bring food later.”

  Gratefully accepting assistance, Jess slipped under the covers once again. Quietly, Red Deer left. Alone again, Jess cried as the hours came and went until, at last, the comforting arms of sleep embraced her.

  ***

  In the days that followed, Red Deer left trays of food for Jess, which she discovered each time she awoke. She would eat a little, and then, grieving, drift back to sleep.

  While she slept, nightmares tormented her—her family dying horribly around her, sometimes along with Maureen, Malcolm, or one of the others. She would bolt upright, initially flooded with relief that it had been only a dream. In the next instant, though, reality would assault her, and she suffered anew the pain of her loss. Then she would cry herself to sleep again, only to have the brutal cycle repeat itself as the sun rose and set.

  One morning, just before daybreak, Jess woke from a mercifully dreamless sleep, and, for once, tears didn’t come. Rolling her pillow more comfortably beneath her head, she finally felt clear of mind.

  What was she to do now? Jess thoughtfully searched the shadows above. First, she had to find out if the servants had survived. She had to make certain they were well, and, once she did, she would help find them new places to work. After that…her father’s share of the import store was hers now. She could support herself by helping Edmund to run it.

  Edmund…and Miriam. Jess pressed a hand to her eyes. The Van Dorns had been her parents’ closest friends since before she was born, and none of the Hales had arrived for the ball that night. The Van Horns must have been devastated to learn of the fire.

  No, she couldn’t let herself think of all that again. She had to focus on the months ahead. Jess dropped her hand from her eyes. Her father’s bank accounts would fall to her, and though she knew little about his investments, she would learn to manage them wisely.

  The uncertainty lay in what people’s reactions would be to her, a woman, co-owning a “man’s business.” She’d had conflicts aplenty while working discreetly as a bookkeeper in an unobtrusive corner of the showroom. Every situation imaginable had arisen, from
women snubbing her as something less than a beggar to men who wanted her job making threats. None of these reactions had troubled her then, but now her income would depend on people accepting her new position.

  Jess frowned. When she was young, she had paid close attention while her father taught Ambrose the strategies of playing poker. He had frequently lifted his thick, gray eyebrows and warned Ambrose, “Never bet money if you’re holding less than two pair.” She could still hear his voice. What would he tell her to do? The way she saw it, she was holding a slim two pair—and an objectionable Southern accent, to boot. Hardly decent odds. At the same time, she had no other means by which to support herself.

  And there was also Kentucky. Bittersweet tears trickled onto the pillow. They had all gifted her with one remaining bequest. Greenbriar. It was hers now, hers to hold dear—but also hers to maintain for those who followed after, if it survived the war.

  Jess began to envision the possibilities. Perhaps, if she sold the Hale property in Carson City, worked hard, and lived meagerly, she could sell Edmund her half of Hale Imports when the war ended and go back home to rebuild. She would have her father’s investment money, and she would find some way to prosper in Kentucky. In the meantime, she needed to regain her strength and wait out the war. Jess wiped her eyes and sat up carefully.

  Besides, other Southerners live in the territory and occasionally come into the store, she thought. I might succeed or even excel in Carson City—who’s to know? Time would tell. She hoped it would also heal.

  Someone knocked softly on the door. Red Deer entered silently, her steps muted by the moccasins on her feet. She carried a tray with two bowls and a steaming teacup, which she placed on the chair beside the bed. “You look rested,” she observed. “This is good. When the heart is sick, the body suffers, also.”

  Jess nodded sympathetically at Red Deer and fingered her own hair. “You’ve known sadness too, Red Deer.”

  “Yes. I lost my sister, Blue Bird. Two summers ago, she traveled with her husband and son to the mountains. They wanted to live far from white men,” she said with an apologetic look, then specified, “the white men who kill our game until we starve and who hunt our people like dogs.”

  Jess understood and nodded for her to go on.

  “This winter has been very cold. Even in her dwelling, fire and blankets could not keep out the terrible wind. Each night, Blue Bird slept holding her son against her to warm him. But one morning, he crawled from her arms and spoke to waken his mother. She did not answer. He touched her, but she was dead.”

  Jess’s heart sank in regret. “She had frozen?”

  “Yes. Now my husband and I take care of my sister’s son. His father lives in the north, protecting our people. Blue Bird is gone only one month. It is difficult to speak of her.”

  Only one month. Jess didn’t believe a hundred months would lessen the pain either of them felt. “How long will you mourn?”

  Red Deer lifted the tray and set it before Jess. “My people mourn until our hair again reaches the length it was before our loved ones died. I know my dear sister is with the Great Spirit Father, but always she stays close in my heart. This is why my people also bury the possessions of one who dies, that we will not see what was theirs and feel pain from the reminder.” Red Deer smiled softly. “But we always remember them, yes? And when we die, we live on in someone’s heart, also.”

  “I suppose so,” Jess murmured, clenching the bedcovers to fight off fresh tears. She now lived in a country where death was becoming as common as life, and she couldn’t bear to hear another tragic thing. Red Deer had lost family, and she’d watched her people die. Jess didn’t know how she had survived it. She didn’t know how she would survive it. She only knew that if she had to remain in bed much longer, she might

  go mad.

  For both their sakes, Red Deer sought to disperse the gloom. “But now we must talk of better things.” She paused expectantly, and Jess appeased her by taking a few bites from a bowl of dried peaches and steaming porridge. “Your food, it is good?”

  “It is very good,” she agreed, taking a sip of hot tea. Red Deer chatted quietly about simpler matters, and Jess realized she was quite hungry, eating the soft oats by the spoonful until they were gone.

  Jess was curious about the reed tray on her lap, and Red Deer described to her the plant baskets, bowls, and trays the Paiute women made, which were not only prized for their beauty, but also woven so tightly that not a drop of water could seep through. Jess listened, eager to hear about anything tangible that anchored her to life, and she marveled at the skill—and cuts and blisters—required for such skillful construction.

  Glancing at her clothes, which were hanging to the side, Jess saw that Red Deer had laundered them, as promised. By the time she finished her meal, she resented the soot and dirt that remained on her skin, and she couldn’t bear that her hair still smelled of smoke.

  “Red Deer, how long have I been here?”

  Red Deer stood up and removed the tray from her lap. “Today is your third day.”

  “Three days!”

  Red Deer gazed at Jess in alarm. “Do you wish to sleep again?”

  “No, but how long was I on the horse?”

  Cautiously, she answered, “One day and one night.”

  Jess pushed herself upright. The pain of the burns had dulled. “I have been gone four days?” She shoved her covers aside and gained her feet beside the dressing table. “Four days? Red Deer, I need to bury my family! I need somebody to take me to Carson City.” With short, fitful movements, Jess flipped through her undergarments in search of her corset. “Will your husband take me? If not,” Jess muttered, “I can saddle a horse and go myself. The horses belong to Bennett, don’t they? He owes me, anyhow.” She tossed the corset and her pantalettes onto the bed. “Carson is to the south; I can find my own way.” Jess read hurt and confusion in Red Deer’s face, and she quickly curbed her harshness. “Could you tell me where water is to wash with? I don’t wish to trouble you any further.” A glance out the window told her the sun had risen.

  “Jessica, I will get you water, but are you sure you should do this? You are not strong yet, and a woman traveling alone is not safe.”

  “I have to bury my family,” Jess insisted, desperately yearning to be near them. She struggled with a knot in the drawstring of her petticoat.

  “I understand, but you have been ill. You are not ready for this journey. Look how thin you are, and how you shake!” Her voice softened. “Jessica, days have passed. Friends will have buried your family. You would be wise to stay here.”

  The Van Dorns again. Yes, Edmund would have seen to it they were buried. Dear Edmund. He had done so much for them all.

  “Is Bennett still gone?” Jess asked.

  “Yes. When he leaves, he is often away for many days.”

  She recalled that Jake had said he needed to purchase other supplies for the ranch. “Then I will stay, Red Deer,” Jess said with resignation. “If you don’t mind, I would like to help with a few chores so that I can regain my strength.”

  “A little work may be good. But now I will bring up water. In the trunk are dresses that may fit you.” Red Deer left with the tray.

  Aside from the bed, chairs, and dressing table, the trunk holding the lantern was the only other furnishing in the room. Jess rounded the bed to the trunk, pushing past her fatigue and drawing on a need to escape the four walls. She set the lamp on the floor and knelt down to open the lid.

  Inside were three gowns: two of yellow calico and one of dark red wool. Beneath them lay a belt of braided leather. Jake keeps full sets of women’s clothes at his ranch? Jess thought with disgust. Whether he gave them as payment or as replacements, she didn’t care to contemplate. Thinking of the man only infuriated her. She didn’t want to think about him, much less see him. To be certain of avoiding him, she determined to leave the ranch before he returned. Two days. She’d give herself two days to regain her strength. Then she woul
d leave.

  Jess lifted a bundle of yellow out of the trunk and pushed herself to her feet. All three dresses had essentially the same pattern: button fronts, full sleeves, and yards of skirt. They were in good condition, no matter what kind of woman they were intended for, and would serve well for the remainder of her brief stay.

  Red Deer returned with a child-sized bathing tub balanced on one hip; in her free hand, she carried a large bucket of steaming water. Unprepared to reflect on bittersweet reminders of Emma, Jess directed her gaze to the items inside the tub—a towel, a soaping cloth, a hunk of oddly shaped soap, a hairbrush, and a pair of fur-lined Indian boots. While Red Deer arranged these items on the plank floor and dressing table, Jess glanced curiously through the half-opened door. She saw a short hallway and a stick-and-branch railing, which opened to reveal a set of stairs leading to a lower room. Beyond it, the opposite side of the timbered roofline sloped down.

  Jess stopped the smile of pleasure that was forming on her lips. This cozy home was Jake’s, she reminded herself.

  Red Deer set the bucket and towel within Jess’s reach, then left her alone.

  Above the trunk, a small mirror hung on the wall. Jess studied her reflection for the first time since the night of the fire. Her chestnut hair and green eyes resembled those of the woman Isaac Hale had fallen in love with and married more than a quarter of a century ago. Her mother’s earrings and the emerald pendant Ambrose had given her lay, as before, on the dressing table. Jess was thankful that her own culture didn’t bury these precious reminders of those dearest to the heart. She would cherish these heirlooms and remember her family for a long time to come, and she was glad of it. There was nothing she wanted to forget. Except for the pain, now inextricably wound with the pleasant memories.