"Sammy, you let him sleep," Sally said, trying to pull her away.
Sammy jerked free, bumped the bed, and Gabe's eyes fluttered open. "Gabe, do you care how we get married?" Sammy asked in a rush, dropping to her knees beside him.
"Huh?" he asked.
"Do you care if we get married here? Do you want a big wedding?"
"No, here is fine. Whatever you want," he told her, reaching out to touch her face. "Whatever you want," he repeated, with his hand falling away and his eyes closing again.
"See!" she told Sally. "He doesn't care." She pushed by them, going back to the dress. Sally followed.
"He didn't know you meant now. What will people say, hurrying a wedding like this. They'll think—"
"I don't care what they think. Let them count months if—"
"Sammy, that's no way to talk," Sally admonished.
"I ain't waiting. I don't want to hear no more about what's proper. I love him. I want to take care of him, and if you won't let me, I'm going to marry him right now."
"Best leave her be," Hedges suggested, still a shadow that wouldn't leave them.
"Get out of here," Sammy cried. "Both of you get out and leave me alone."
Sally threw her hands up in defeat and shoved Hedges out of the room. "I'll help you with the dress, but you better hope you don't come to regret this."
* * *
Gabe had only a vague recollection of Sammy waking him before. What they'd talked about, he couldn't remember at all, even while she sat there telling him what it had been. She looked the prettiest he'd ever seen her, and he told her so, interrupting what she was saying.
"You look even prettier done all up like that," he murmured.
Sammy blushed. Until that moment, she tugged and squirmed in the tight fitting dress that accented her trim, womanly figure and the new hair style that showed off her fine featured face. She relaxed at his words and smiled shyly.
"Gabe, he's here now," she finished.
"Morey?" he asked.
"No, the preacher," she said, in frustration. "You said we could get married any way I wanted."
"Whatever you want," he agreed with a nod.
"He doesn't understand, Sammy," Sally whispered.
"Gabe, I want to get married now, right now. The preacher's here to do it."
"Marry us?" Gabe asked, frowning slightly.
The preacher interrupted. "Little Sam, if the man isn't coherent, I can't marry you."
Gabe twisted his head to look at him. "Marry us," he ordered.
"You clearly understand that this ceremony will bind you to this woman for life?"
"Lady," Gabe corrected, "this beautiful lady for life. I asked her proper, and she accepted."
"Get on with it," Hedges prompted.
"Was he this sick when he asked you, Little Sam?" the preacher asked.
"You think a man wouldn't ask otherwise?" Sally demanded. "You do like they said, marry them."
That the preacher didn't care for the circumstances was evident in his expression. He moved into position and started stiffly, staring back as Gabe stared intently at him. "We are gathered here together…"
Gabe was concentrating on hearing every word the man said. He knew he was supposed to say something in there somewhere, and he didn't want to miss it. He was light-headed and felt a little like he might be dreaming, but he hoped not. Even in a dream marriage, a man didn't want to miss saying what he should at the right time, and he didn't want it to be any dream. Sammy had told him how Sally was keeping her away. He didn't want her kept away.
"…do you, Gabriel Taylor, take this woman…"
Gabe nodded, able to relax. He'd done what he was supposed to at the right time. Now he didn't have to listen so closely. Now he could look at beautiful Sammy. He heard her say; "I do," thinking how careful she was in holding his hand. He'd never think to pull his hand away, even if her slight hold made his oversensitive hand ache a mite more.
Laying there looking at her was nice, just like knowing she wanted to hang on to him. It annoyed him to be interrupted. Someone wanted him to put a ring on Sammy's finger. Then he remembered they were getting married.
“My mother’s,” Sammy told him.
Sammy let go of his hand long enough for him clumsily slip the ring up her finger, then she put one on Gabe's finger, her father's she said, pushing it up under the bandage. That felt strange, he'd never worn a ring before.
A ring would sure give the boys something to heehaw about, telling him he was hogtied for sure, giving up all his rights and freedoms. Course he didn't care about that. Sammy was holding his hand again, kissing him on the lips.
"Ain't like bein' hogtied," he murmured to her. She smiled at that, laying her hand on his face, so cool and soft. He liked that, feeling her hand on his face, his skin feeling hot and parched. His fever was worse, even from what it had been when he collapsed earlier. He was glad when the Sally and Hedges finished congratulating them and left, pushing the preacher out ahead of them.
* * *
Gabe woke up often after that, making sense most the time in what he said. He was worried about Danny, asking first if Morey was back then saying he should be. It got later and later, and Sammy found it hard to keep telling Gabe there hadn't been enough time for Morey to have gotten back, worried herself over how long he'd been gone. Still she answered him truthfully until Gabe was so worried, he tried to get up. When he couldn't, both because she held him and he was too weak, he asked for Curly.
She had to promise she'd get him to get Gabe to quiet down. He went back to sleep before Curly could get there from where they were staying out of sight in the woods.
"What you figure he wanted, ma'am?" Curly asked.
"He's worried about Morey not returning with Danny yet," she said, both flattered and embarrassed by the way the man had quickly snatched the hat from his curl covered head and stared at her.
"I don't know where he went, ma'am, but has it been too long?"
"Well, yes, much longer than I thought it would take. He was going to Tree Town"
"Uh-huh, well you tell Gabe, Tracks will leave at first light if it's necessary." He hesitated then pointed with his hat to Gabe. "I seen him like this before," he said awkwardly "If you was to wrap him up with more blankets till he sweats…sorry, ma'am."
"That's all right," she said, unabashed by a word ladies weren't supposed to hear, but she'd heard all her life. "Go on."
"Well, Angel takes some help sometimes to break out of a fever. Doc explained it to us that time he got snake bit. He said on account of Angel being so hot-blooded, sorry again, ma'am."
"Stop worrying about how you say it and just tell me," she said impatiently.
"Okay, ma'am. The doc said it didn't do no good, cooling him down. We'd tried that, and so did the doc at first. He said you had to get him hot, hot enough to sweat, so's the fever would break. Once it breaks, then you sponge him down and make him drink lots of water."
"Have you ever had to try that since then?" she asked dubiously.
"Yes, ma'am. The time he had blood-poison in his arm, and it brought him right out of it. See, I figure Angel knew this was coming on. That woman of yours, Sally, says he didn't intend to stay here in the house, so I figure it was 'cause he knew we'd know what to do."
"Then why didn't you tell me sooner?" she snapped. "Sally, bring some more blankets in here."
Curly didn't give an answer to her question, saying, "Could be I'd better stay with him now."
"Why?" Sammy asked, taking the blankets Sally brought and spreading them over Gabe.
"He's gonna be out of his head, saying things a lady oughtn't hear," he said frankly.
"I'm his wife," she said in a flush of pleasure over the term.
"Yes, ma'am, but he's still gonna be saying things he'd never say in front of you otherwise."
"Mr. Curly, I grew up on the range. There isn't anything he's going to say, any words that I haven't already heard."
"Ma'am, I don
't want to be trying to tell you what to do, but Angel's lived some life these range hands ain't never seen. Now, I've seen him bad, and I've cared for him before, the same as he's cared for me when I was bad. I know how he's gonna be, and you oughtn't see it."
"Listen to him, girl," Sally said.
"He wouldn't want you to see it," Curly added.
"How…how long would it be?" Sammy asked.
"Just a couple of hours, ma'am," Curly said, going to the window. He raised it long enough to make a bird call, one Sammy wasn't familiar with. "You just leave it to us." He motioned her to the door, his arm pointing the way, without touching her.
She wondered who he meant by us, then she saw a figure slipping through the dimly lit kitchen toward them. The man called Tracks appeared, his hat already in his hand as he bobbed his head to her and eased through into the bedroom. Then they shut the door.
Sammy had been wrong. Gabe did say some words she had never heard, although her prior knowledge of curse words did give her something on which to guess their meaning. Gabe had yelled something very loud and indistinguishable, taking her to her feet and to the closed door of the bedroom in a flash.
She opened the door to find Tracks holding Gabe down by the feet, and Curly astride him, holding him down by pressing both wrists to the bed, one on either side of his head. That was when Gabe used some terms she didn't completely understand, calling Curly by them. She quickly shut the door, to not embarrass Curly and Tracks, but she stayed there, turning red-faced.
"Come away from there and quit listening," Sally ordered.
"He says he's burning up," Sammy said, picking the non-profanity out of his words. "He thinks they're doing it to him, holding him some kind of prisoner."
"Delirious."
"He must have been in the war," Sammy added, still trying to make sense of all she'd heard.
"Ain't old enough. Come away from there. I'm turning red just watching you."
"It's been an hour," Sammy said, moving restlessly around the room, only because Gabe was quiet again.
"He said a couple," Sally reminded her, only to have the door open and Tracks step out.
"Ma'am, Curly says maybe you'd like to come in…" He had to turn, addressing her back to finish as she rushed by him. "…for a spell. We can rush you out, he goes to yelling again."
"Gabe," she cried, dropping to her knees beside the bed. He looked terrible. His face was so red it looked like it was on fire, and he was soaked, his hair wet from perspiration. His breathing was hard and labored.
"He's coming on fine, Ma'am." Curly told her. She looked at him as if she didn't believe it. "Gets that way just before it breaks," he added.
"How many times have you helped him through something like this?" she asked, slipping her hand under the blankets to hold Gabe's arm.
"Ain't rightly counted. Let's see, there was the first time when that Injun shot him. Then the snake bite and a broken leg."
"That was Bill," Tracks put in.
"Oh, right. Angel ain't never broke nothing. Them two times, then again when he had blood-poison."
"Once after that. He just got fevered, no wound to show for the cause of it," Tracks said. He stiffened, listening closely when Gabe muttered Danny's name. When Gabe stopped muttering, he relaxed. "Just talking to hisself," he explained with a grin.
Sammy asked curiously, "Why do you call him Angel?"
"He hates it, ma'am," Curly said with a grin. "But it sure did seem to fit him that first time we seen him."
"Sure looked like a halo on his head to me. Just seemed right when he told us his name," Tracks said.
"See, ma'am, it was misting that night. We couldn't see them Injuns, but we knew they was there, 'cause every time one of us raised our heads, they plugged away at us. The lieutenant figured come morning, they'd just run over the top of us."
"They would have if we'd'a sat there like he said," Tracks said, unkindly. "He wasn't much of a lieutenant, ma'am. Too green."
"That's a fact, ma'am. If he weren't, he wouldn't'a run us into a dead end to get trapped."
"What happened?" she asked, fascinated by their story, as she was sure they intended her to be.
"Well, there we were…" Curly said warming up to the story he was going to tell. "…trapped, just waiting to die, when over on the hill, all of a sudden, is this one lone figure. He had a sword in one hand, and a gun in the other, and the sun what was just coming up behind him, shinning and sparkling like on that blonde hair of his."
"'Look,' I tell Tracks, giving him a jab in the ribs, 'don't that sure enough look to be an angel?' Tracks just nodded, seeing it the same as me and right then, we knew we wasn't gonna die."
"He couldn't'a seen us, or known where we were, but he come down that hill, straight at us. Me and Tracks jumped up, yelling for him to go back, 'cause we knew them Injuns was waiting, and even if he looked to be one, we knew angels didn't carry weapons."
"Well, they sprung at him, coming out of the rocks and from behind trees, and he just went to hacking and shooting his way through them. We seen right then, it was a gift from heaven, our chance to get out of that box we'd got into. We went hooraying out of there, catching them Injuns by surprise, scaring them so bad, they just cut and run."
"Left us alone after that, too," Tracks said, picking up the story. "So's you see, ma'am, when we got up to him, seeing him grin like that, then telling us his name was Gabriel, we just always naturally thought Angel."
"Course we knowed he wasn't. Angel's don't bleed, and he was sure bleeding. One of them Injuns got him in the leg. Soon as he told us his name, he keeled right over. He was sick two whole days from it."
"They're lying to you," Gabe mumbled, causing Sammy to whirl around to look at him. Even with the fever still raging in him, he told her plainly, "There wasn't any lieutenant. Just them and three drunk Indians."
"Sounds better our way," Curly said, unabashed at the tall tale he had just spun.
"Makes me sound like a king-sized jackass. I didn't have no sword, just a stick, and I was out looking for a lost cow."
"Ma'am," Tracks said quickly, "I think you best leave now."
"But he's…"
"No, ma'am, he ain't. He's fixing to go off again."
"If I'd had any brains, I'd been the one to cut and run. You…" Gabe went on.
Tracks took the liberty of hurrying Sammy to her feet, by actually taking her by the arms and hustling her out of the room. The door shut before she could hear what Gabe was going to say, but she knew soon enough that he was mad about what they'd said. Sally pulled her away from the door before she could find out exactly why or hear the scalding adjectives Gabe was using.
The next time Tracks opened the door, it was to tell her Gabe was sleeping quiet. It had been just after a particularly loud session, and Tracks seemed to have a bruise rising up on his chin.
"Kicked me," Tracks explained when he saw her looking at it as she passed him to go into the bedroom.
Curly was folding blankets, laying them neatly over the foot of the bed. "Tracks knows better than to let him get a foot loose. His own fault," he said cheerfully.
Sammy half-heard him, looking Gabe over. His face was pale but not fiery red, and it was dry, although his hair was still damp. His breathing sounded like that of a normal sleeping man, too.
"You could probably wake him, but he's so wore out, he probably wouldn't make much sense talking."
"As soon as he can talk, I'm going to find out how much of that story you told was true," she teased, though gratitude shone in her eyes.
"Ah, ma'am," Curly said with a chuckle, "Angel will only make light of it, not telling as many things as we put in and less of what really happened. Them Injuns was drunk, but they'd'a killed us just the same iffen he hadn't happened along and took a hand in it."
"You just wait till you hear some of the whoppers he tells on us," Tracks said from the doorway, and it wasn't until Curly joined him that she realized they were leaving.
"Wouldn't you like some coffee or something to eat before you go?"
"Got things to do, ma'am," Curly said, while they both shook their heads.
"Maybe you could tell me what this Morey looks like and maybe send something so's he don't think I'm pulling a fast one when I come up on him," Tracks said, obviously not doubting his ability for one minute in finding him.
"I could…" She halted abruptly when Tracks held up his hand for silence.
She couldn't hear a thing, but he said, "Rider coming," and drew his gun while he said it.
Curly was swift to follow. They were standing one to each side of the front door when Morey staggered in, a sleeping Danny in his arms.
Morey went by the two men, without seeing them, to give the boy to Sammy. "Don't wake him up for God's sake," he whispered, handing him over carefully. "He's bellowed and screamed the whole way back. Just went to sleep five miles out. You're sure looking pretty."
Sammy looked up from carefully folding away the coat and blankets Morey had Danny wrapped in. "Thank you, Morey," she said, smiling sweetly.
Sally was beside her, looking to see that Danny was fine. "You missed the wedding," she told Morey and offered to take Danny, but Sammy refused to give him up.
"Wedding?" Morey exclaimed.
"Shhh…" Sally warned instantly.
"That why you so prettied up? You go and get married without me here to see it?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper.
"She wouldn't wait, wanted to care for Gabe herself," Sally said. "Suppose you want something to eat."
He turned to face her as she moved towards the kitchen, and the retort he had ready for Sally froze in his throat. He saw Curly and Tracks for the first time, still standing at each side of the door, and grabbed for his gun.
"Whoa, now," Curly exclaimed, both hands out in front of him.
"You oughtn't do that to a man," Morey said tersely, dropping his gun back in the holster as he realized the men weren't there to do harm. "Who are you?"
"Oh, Morey, this is Curly and Tracks, friends of Gabe's. They've come to help him and already have so much," Sammy said.
Little Sam's Angel Page 18
