Little Sam's Angel

by Wills, Larion

  "It'll be that long before he can travel," one of the other men said as he stood, relieving the weight on Gabe's back.

  The second man snorted as he stepped away. "He ain't gonna be signing anything, either. Your woman's gonna be disappointed."

  "He can make an X," their boss retorted.

  "Ain't this gonna to mess up your time schedule?" the other asked.

  "Yeah," the first said with a snicker, "she might not like the waiting."

  "I'm the boss and don't forget it."

  "Sure, Boss, just saying that pretty little filly seemed pretty anxious when you told her you'd get them deeds for her."

  That was all Gabe heard before he passed out, before a sharp toed boot drove into his ribs. It was enough.

  * * *

  Danny was crying and Brenda was laughing, telling him what a fool he'd been for ever believing she'd lower herself to crawl in bed with him, for any reason. She kept laughing, calling him a fool, only she didn't look like Brenda. She looked like Sammy, and Danny kept crying.

  "Go back to sleep, buddy," Gabe murmured, then groaned, twisting on the floor in pain that racked through his head, hands, and side, but Danny kept crying.

  Gabe couldn't move his hands, pull them towards him, or draw his arms down to ease the pain in his side. He couldn't cradle his hands in an effort to ease the aching, and Danny kept crying.

  Brenda wouldn't go to Danny, she just stood there laughing, laughing at what a fool he'd been for thinking Danny might be his for even the short time he had believed her, laughing at how stupid he'd been. He wanted to tell Danny it was all right, not to cry anymore, but he couldn't make the words come out. Danny kept crying, Gabe's hands hurt, his side hurt, and Gabe damned Brenda for turning into Sammy, and then Sammy for laughing, telling him what a fool he was to trust any woman.

  The floor vibrated under him first with a crash and then footsteps running toward him. Finally Brenda quit laughing, but Danny still cried, and someone touched him, jarred him, made him hurt more.

  * * *

  "Easy," Morey warned, moving Sammy gently out of the way.

  Tears ran down her cheeks, and she bit her lip to keep it from quivering and from crying outright. They'd only stopped on their way to town to tell Gabe Sally wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be over that morning. The crash had been a pot of stew for Gabe and Danny's dinner that had slipped from Sammy's nerveless fingers. Delivering it ended in horror. Although Sammy had thought it strange that the door was open on so chilly a morning, she'd had no premonition of terror. That was what made the shock of finding Gabe like that so much worse.

  Gabe didn't know Sammy was there. He just knew Danny was crying. "Danny," he said weakly.

  "He's all right, Gabe," she managed to say with her voice weak and shaking.

  "He isn't mine. Lied to me so I'd fight for her."

  Morey looked for something to pry those nails loose with and told Sammy, "Check on the boy, then go get Sally."

  "Pierce," Gabe mumbled.

  "No, it's me, Morey. You just rest easy. I'll get you loose."

  Gabe mumbled, and Sammy sobbed, unable to move.

  Morey got up, dragging her with him, shaking her as he talked to her. "You do what I told you. See if that boy needs anything then hightail it after Sally. Gabe needs her."

  "Who'd do this, Morey-why?" she asked.

  "We'll find that out when he can tell us, and we'll get them. Right now we got to take care of him, so do what I told you," he said sharply, giving her a little shove towards Danny's bedroom.

  Sammy concentrated on being calm in front of Danny, the hardest thing she ever had to do in her life.

  Danny looked up at her, his eyes red and puffy from crying. "Gabe," he sobbed, making Sammy nearly crumpled again.

  "He cain't come to you right now, Danny," she choked out. "You be a good boy and be quiet."

  "Gabe," he repeated, shaking the bars of the crib he held on to.

  "Now Danny, you mind me. No more crying. Gabe will come as soon as he can," she ordered, her voice gathering strength as she laid him down to change his wet, night diapers.

  "Now," she said briskly, knowing she had to act normal for him. "Are you hungry? Sammy'll get you something to eat. You can have it right here. You won't even have to get up. Won't that be fun?"

  He shook his head, his lower lip out and tears filling his eyes again. Unsure of herself, Sammy left quickly, only to face a worse ordeal.

  Morey had wedged the claw of the hammer around the nail in Gabe's left hand. He had a foot on either side for leverage and was pulling with all his might. The nail wouldn't budge. With a string of cuss words, he tried twisting the hammer to loosen the nail's grip in the wood flooring. The hammer just slipped. He knew what he was going to have to do, hit the nail on each side to loosen it, but that was going to hurt Gabe something fierce. He didn't want to do it while Sammy was there.

  He tried the other nail, stalling for time while she buttered some bread for the boy. He could feel that it was loose, braced himself and heaved. He didn't expect what happened. The nail came out of the wood, but not out of Gabe's hand. The hammer flew up when the wood let go, dragging the nail and Gabe's hand with it. Gabe jerked his hand back in reflex, and Morey couldn't let go soon enough to keep the nail from pulling free. The hammer clattered on the floor, and the nail hit, making a tinny, metallic sound as Gabe twisted, one hand still anchored to the floor, to bring his legs up and his freed hand and arm in against his chest.

  Sammy fell to her knees beside him, wanting to shield him against the pain with her own body.

  "Go away," Gabe gasped out.

  "Gabe," she cried.

  "You heard him. Give the boy his food then go for Sally," Morey said, dragging her back to her feet. He knew Gabe was awake then, wide awake and making sense. He couldn't save him from any of that pain, but he could dang sure help him from feeling the shame of having Sammy see him so helpless. He walked her, her stepping backwards, back to the dry sink.

  "You better hurry. He needs Sally," he whispered. She nodded, her eyes fixed on Gabe. Morey patted her awkwardly on the back. "Bring a blanket before you leave."

  She nodded again, reaching for the bread. She didn't take her eyes off Gabe as she walked to Danny's room until Gabe was out of her line of sight and squared her shoulders, washing the horror and dread off her face, to tend Danny. Giving him the bread, she told him again to be good before she went in search of blanket.

  She was surprised to see a bed in Gabe's bedroom and puzzled as to why it was shoved up against the wall unused, though any thoughts regarding it were fleeting. She had no difficulty understanding why the straw pallet was scattered and the blankets were tangled up several feet away. That was where Gabe had been attacked, with the blankets pulled off him as they dragged him to the kitchen.

  She wanted to spread the blanket over him after she carried it back, but Morey wouldn't let her. Gabe wouldn't look at her. She wondered if they had talked about what had happened while she was gone, but Morey wouldn't talk to her. He just walked her to the door.

  * * *

  "This is gonna hurt like the hobs of hell, Gabe," Morey said, taking up the hammer again as soon as Sammy was gone.

  "Get it done," Gabe ordered.

  "Straighten yourself out a little so's your hand is flat."

  Gabe twisted, not his body, but his arm to flatten the hand. Even that cost him, bringing sweat out on his forehead and making his teeth grind to keep from yelling out.

  Morey tapped it the first time, and the cords in Gabe's neck stood out. Morey tapped it the second time, shoving it back the opposite direction, jarring torn flesh, and Gabe relaxed, his held breath expelling in a rush as he passed out.

  Morey attacked the nail with a vengeance then, knowing Gabe wasn't awake to feel it. He tapped it back and forth until he could feel it give and then with his foot on Gabe's wrist to keep it from pulling his hand up like it had with the first one, he jerked the nail free.

&nbs
p; He threw the hammer in disgust, kicked the nail from where it had fallen to send it into the wall, and knelt to roll Gabe to his back.

  Figuring there was nothing he could do that Sally wouldn't undo when she got there, Morey laid Gabe's arms across his chest and tucked the blanket tight around him. He folded his own coat for a pillow for Gabe's head, closed the door, and built a fire in the stove. Then there was nothing he could do but wait.

  * * *

  In the time it took Sammy to get back, Gabe never stirred, nor in the time they had to wait for Sally to get there in the slower moving wagon. He did stir when Sally turned his hands to see the damage. He groaned, trying to pull his hands away. In shock, more unconscious than awake, he tried to push her hands away with his arms as she felt over him to find the injuries, and finally he opened his eyes.

  "Where's the pain, Gabe? Any, sides your side and hands?" she asked, and he looked at her blankly.

  "Been senseless most the time," Morey supplied, and Gabe's head rolled to look at him.

  Sally moved to feel his head. She grunted when she found the lump and bit of dried blood. "Hit him in the head, too. Gabe, we're going to move you now."

  He understood that, hunching to draw himself up. Morey thought they should carry him, but Sally didn't attempt to stop Gabe, so he went to giving him support instead. Gabe got as far as to his feet before his knees went out from under him.

  "We'll carry you," Morey said quickly.

  "No," Gabe answered, pushing up again. Morey looked at Sally. She shook her head, still not trying to hold Gabe back, but she guided him to the bedroom and the bed he had refused to use before.

  "Sit," Sally ordered.

  "Danny?" Gabe asked, blindly following their lead as they pushed him down.

  "Sammy took him for a walk. Lay back now."

  Gabe did, with his eyes closing, too deep in shock to even know where he was.

  "I'm going out to search for sign," Morey told her as he backed off. "Whoever the bastards are who did this, they're going to pay."

  * * *

  Sally and Morey were in a huddle when Sammy came back. Sally had ordered her to keep the boy out for two hours, no less. She wanted time to have Gabe patched and clean before the boy saw him, but Sammy saw the looks on their faces. Her own apprehension leapt to the surface.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I'll tell you. Don't get all worked up," Sally said, taking Danny from her. "Now, young'un, you ready for lunch?"

  "Gabe," the boy whined, squirming to get away from her.

  "Your papa is sleeping. Now you be quiet so's you don't wake him up." She walked to the bedroom door with Danny in her arms, showing the boy, letting him see for himself that Gabe was there. "See, he's right here, so you be a good boy and don't wake him with your fussing."

  She turned away, taking him to his high chair in a brisk, no nonsense manner that Danny knew and responded to well, but his eyes were big, and he paid no attention to the food Sally placed before him as he watched the big people whispering in the corner.

  "He's got a bad bruise on one side, maybe a busted rib, cain't be sure. Bunch of other bruises, a cut under his chin and his hands," Sally told her. "I don't think his head is bad." Then she paused, looking straight at Sammy. "It ain't bad, not much to worry over, but I'm sending Morey after the doc in Tree Town."

  Sammy's hands clutched in fear. In all the years, of all the people Sally had cared for, she'd only sent for the doctor twice. Both times it was so bad, the men died anyway.

  "I don't think he needs the doc. I just ain't taking any chances," Sally said, reading her thoughts.

  "There's something you're not telling me," Sammy accused.

  "Nope," she lied. "He just means too much to us. Could be something more I cain't see, and I won't be responsible."

  "I want to see him," Sammy said, still sure Sally was lying to her.

  "No reason you cain't. Just don't you wake him up."

  She and Morey walked off then. There was no need for Sally to tell Morey what to tell the doctor. She'd already done that when she was sure Sammy wouldn't hear. Sally was worried. Gabe seemed too weak for what was wrong with him, least ways, in what she could see. She didn't think his lung was punctured under those damaged ribs since he hadn't coughed up any blood, but there was something that had taken all the fire out of him. It was something she couldn't find the cause for, so she sent for the doctor.

  Sammy came back from the bedroom for a chair. "What are you doing?" Sally asked.

  "I'm going to sit with him."

  "No, you ain't. You're gonna stay out of his sight," she said, blocking the way.

  "Sally, please," she begged, tears filling her eyes.

  "I've treated enough men through the years to know how they think. Gabe don't want you seeing him like this. His pride's been cut deep, Sammy, having a thing like that done to him. It don't matter that it took three men to do it. It don't matter that he made them pay before they could. It only matters that it was done, and he couldn't stop it."

  "Three?"

  Sally nodded. "Morey read some sign. It was three riders."

  "Why'd they do it?" she cried.

  "We don't know yet. We'll find out, if not from Gabe, from them what done it when Morey catches up to them. He's going to send someone from Crossings on to Tree Town for the doc, then he's coming back here with Turner's dogs. They'll pay for it, Sammy, I can promise you that."

  What good were promises, Sammy thought. Would punishing them bring the color back to Gabe's pale face? Would punishing those men make his pain go away? Would it erase the tear in his soul for what they'd done to him? What if he died?

  Sammy couldn't find solace in the promise. All she could remember was the way Gabe looked and sounded when they found him, the way he looked now, the color so washed from his face it made his hair look dark. Gabe's hair wasn't dark. It was blonde, shiny bright when the sun shone down on it. His eyes were blue, always sober when he talked to her, but she'd seen them flashing with hate and rage, and she'd seen them soft and tender when he took Danny in his arms. What if they had destroyed that? What if Gabe died?

  Terror rose in her. Sammy couldn't stand even the slightest possibility of Gabe dying. She had resigned herself to loving him while knowing she would never be with him. She would be able to live with that, but to know he was dead, know she'd never be able to see him again, even from a distance, tore at her. To know that Danny might never be held again by a Gabe, a man as gentle as he was strong, made her heart nearly stop. To no longer have the secret hope that someday something would change and she would be able to be with him filled her with dread that threatened to destroy her sanity.

  The sheriff came, Hedges with him, and Morey not far behind with the dogs. They woke Gabe, the sheriff asking him what had happened. Gabe told them only one thing they didn't know. They already knew the men had come at him during the night and that there were three of them. The only thing Gabe added was that the men wore masks. He said he didn't know who they were or why they had done it. Hedges and Morey figured he was lying, but couldn't understand why. What disturbed them more was Gabe didn't seem to care, either.

  The sheriff went with Morey to track the men with the dogs, Hedges stayed at the house, and Gabe fell back to sleep.

  "Don't give a damn," Hedges whispered secretly to Sally. "Like he was sometimes when he first got here. Just give up and don't care what happens anymore."

  "He's still in shock," she said, worrying if that was the thing she couldn't see that was dragging Gabe down.

  Gabe slept, the others worried, and then Danny started to cry. It was late, and he was sleepy. It was the time of evening when Gabe usually held him, only Gabe couldn't, and they wouldn't let Danny see him.

  * * *

  Gabe heard Danny crying and a soft voice telling him to be still, or he'd wake his papa.

  The title twisted a knife in Gabe's soul. He figured it was a twist that would torture him till the day he died. He'd never considered
marrying, never thought of himself as a man who'd be a husband much less a father. He never thought of himself having a child until Brenda told him the child she carried was his. He was surprised to find that he liked the idea, but the circumstances, how she told him it happened, the thing she claimed he'd done, tormented him. The other things Brenda told him afterward added more anguish. He'd never be able to claim the baby, for the baby's sake. Brenda said they had to think of the baby, not themselves. If Gabe told the truth of his parentage, everyone would know Danny was a bastard. Brenda's husband would rightfully disown him, and Danny would be left with nothing.

  Gabe never felt it was right any more than he could completely believe he'd ever forced himself on any woman. The thought that maybe he had sickened him, and the fact that he'd been sick that night, out of his head with fever, didn't ease his mind much as an excuse to forgive himself the way Brenda had said she did. He had remembered finding Brenda that day. He'd been on his way to town to have the Doc treat his arm. The cut wasn't much, but it looked to be poisoning up, and he'd felt feverish.

  Brenda was so pretty and had looked to be so helpless, he figured he could take the time to get her on home, show her the way anyway. He told her so. Instead of being happy about it, she'd went to crying.

  She told him her husband beat her, that she was scared of him, and that she was running away. She wanted Gabe to take her, not back to her ranch, but to the line shack he'd come from to hide for the night and then through the mountains to where the railroad ran.

  Gabe didn't figure he ought to do either of those things. It was wrong to interfere between a man and his wife, and Gabe knew he was too sick anyway to do what she wanted. He told her so, and she cried more, swearing she wouldn't go back. If he wouldn't help her, she'd go on alone.

  "It's going to rain. All you'll get is wet," he remembered telling her. "There's a train goes through town. You'd be a whole lot better off taking it."