Carla Kelly (56 page)

“Your shoulder is dislocated, and I'm going to reduce it in just a moment.”

“Paul.”

“He's right now sitting on the ground by the ridge. Silly boy. He thought he was going to ride down here and see if you were still alive, and we thought otherwise. I don't think Matt has even thrown a better loop. Jerked him right out of the saddle. The boss fired him on the spot and then started to cry.”

She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“We didn't want him to find you burned to death,” Doc said bluntly. “I'm supposed to fire two shots if you're alive, but how about I reduce that shoulder before I do? It'll hurt like the blue blazes for just a moment, but we'll spare him the sight of my foot in your armpit. You up for it? Of course you are. You just stared down a firestorm.”

He worked so fast she didn't have time to brace herself as he took Iris's quilt and padded it in her armpit. He sat down next to her and put his foot against the quilt. Taking her arm in his hand, he slowly leaned back, pushing against the quilt. She closed her eyes and looked away as the pain mounted into a black void.

She felt hands on her head when she regained consciousness. She was lying on the ground, her hands folded across her stomach and Iris's baby quilt under her head. Her shoulder ached, but the sharp pain was gone. She tried to look around to see where Paul was until she realized those were his hands.

She heard his calm voice as he pressed lightly on her head. “By the power of the Melchizedek Priesthood which I hold, I give this woman a blessing of healing. I have no anointing oil. It's only me and maybe I'm not even doing this right. Father, keep her alive. She's everything to me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

She must have been dreaming. What had just happened couldn't have just happened. She opened her eyes, closed them, and opened them again. She was still lying in the road, only Paul was holding her hands now.

“I don't understand,” she said.

“It'll keep,” he replied, his voice gentle.

“You have to give Matt back his job.”

“I already rehired him. How about we get you to Cheyenne?”

hen Julia regained consciousness, she was wrapped in a quilt, a dry one that didn't stink of smoke. She lay in a wagon, still clutching Iris's quilt. Her head was in Paul's lap.

“We tried to take it out of your hand, but you put up quite a struggle,” he told her, bending close to speak in her ear.

“It saved my life,” she said, wincing because her throat was so raw. She started to cough. He put a handkerchief to her mouth, swabbing out the ash when she finished.

“Doc's worried about your lungs. Your neck has second degree burns. You're in shock, and that's why we're keeping you wrapped up, even though it's hot. We're at the Gun Barrel depot. Dr. Beck is going to give you a sedative, so we can lift you onto a door and get you on the train.”

“The fire? Your cattle? You?” Julia wanted to speak in complete sentences. They sounded clear in her brain but never left her mouth that way.

“The fire? Listen.”

She did, realizing first that the wagon was as close to the depot as possible under the station awning. The sound was unfamiliar at first until she realized it was rain dropping on a tin roof.

“Last time we saw the fire, it was headed toward Nebraska. Good luck to them. The cattle are scattered from Nome to Atlanta, but—but,” he said, raising a finger and waving it for emphasis, “one of my beautiful Hereford bulls is not suffering any fools gladly in a corral in Wheatland, so I've heard.” He shrugged. “The other's probably going to make some Nebraska rancher really happy when he finds him. Until I
refind
him.”

“You?”

“Couldn't be better, Julia, because you're alive.”

Even in her pain, she could hear the anguish in his voice. “Nearly turned back,” she admitted. “That letter from Hickman. On the kitchen table. Two Bits.”

“The letter doesn't matter. If I have to, I'll just go door-to-door in Koosharem. Can't be too big a town.” He fingered her face, as though he had to touch her. “Two Bits? He worked through about eight of his nine lives this afternoon. We found him in the ice house hugged up against the only bitty sliver of ice remaining. Lost his tail, but we know he's tough. I left him with Alice Marlowe.”

“Their house?” she asked, trying to sit up. “Oh, please, is it…?”

He gently pushed her down. “Still standing. The fire veered again. Incidentally, our bunkhouse, barns, and corrals are a bit singed, but upright. The dirt and gravel of the road were just enough to keep the fire on one side.” He kissed her forehead.

Someone cleared his throat, and she turned her head slightly to see an elderly man with a hypodermic needle.

“Never much cared for the house,” she said, her eyes on the needle.

“Good thing. I'll build you a better one a whole lot closer to the river.”

“For me?” She winced as the needle went in. “I thought I told you…” She stopped, remembering his hands on her head. “Nothing makes much sense.”

“It will. Well, my dear, little Darling, good night, sleep tight.”

Her lungs must not have been as bad as Doc had feared. Either that, or Paul had lobbied successfully for her release to the company of friends. When she woke up, moonlight streamed through familiar curtains. She was in Amanda Gillespie's bedroom, the one they shared whenever Julia came to church. An unfamiliar doctor was there, and so was Sister Gillespie. Someone—probably Emma—had removed her singed and ash-stained clothing, cleaned her up, and popped her into a nightgown. Her arm was in a sling, binding her shoulder just enough to keep her from moving it.

Her head felt strangely light, but her mind was clear. Cautiously, she reached up with her good hand to touch her hair as the doctor let himself out of the room.

Sister Gillespie sat on the bed, put a light hand on her face, and kissed her forehead. “You have a few bare spots, my dear, and I trimmed the rest of your hair as carefully as I could, considering that the ends of it were burned. Oh, Julia.”

“Where's James?”

“He's asleep. He checked on you several times after the doctor thought you should be sedated again after Gun Barrel. We assured James you'd be awake in the morning, and he was satisfied with that. You were in some pain when we cleaned you up.”

Julia took Emma's hand. “If James had been on the Double Tipi, we couldn't have both survived in that cut-bank. I'm so grateful he was here. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“You'd have done the same for me,” Sister Gillespie said simply. She stood up. “And now, if I don't let Paul Otto in here, he's going to come through the door anyway.”

Julia held onto Emma's hand. “He gave me a priesthood blessing! What is going on?”

The woman smiled. “He owes you quite an explanation. Just don't be too angry with him.”

“How could I be?” Julia murmured. “Let him in.”

For the longest moment, Paul just stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of her. He was still dressed in the same clothes, burned in spots with ground-in ash. His face and hands were clean now, and she could see the little burn marks on them. The bald patches in his black hair stood out like dimes. She had never seen someone upright who looked so tired.

Julia held out her hand to him, and he smiled, but he turned to Sister Gillespie. “Emma, I know what I'm going to do isn't proper, but I'm going to lie down with my darling. I've never been so tired, but I won't leave her. I just can't. Please understand.”

Emma touched his arm. “No one will ever hear a word about this from me or Heber.” She closed the door quietly.

He came to her bed, sat down, and took off his boots with a great sigh. “I still stink, and I'm still dirty,” he said, holding a boot in his hand. He dropped it as though it weighed a ton and then took off his belt. He started to lie down, but she managed to pull back the coverlet so he could lie next to her. She couldn't overlook the relief in his eyes.

He raised up on one elbow. “Can I put my arms around you without paining you?”

“Try, please.”

He did, pulling her gently toward him until her back rested against his chest.

“My neck really hurts,” she said.

He kissed her ear. “No wonder. That's where the burning branch grazed you. You're going to have some criss-cross scars there.” He kissed her ear again. “Just enough pattern to make you interesting.”

“My neck.” She felt for the deerskin cord of the medicine bag she had snatched from Paul's room. “I tried to save what I think was your father's medicine pouch,” she told him. “It's not…”

“I'm wearing it now,” he whispered in her ear. “Thanks for saving it.”

She sighed with relief. “I didn't think to save those scraps of scriptures from your mother's shoes that were in the same box. I'm afraid they wouldn't have survived the river.”

“Doesn't matter, as long as you survived,” he told her, his arms gentle but firm around her. “Besides, I have those scriptures every time I read the Book of Mormon.”

She closed her eyes with the sheer joy of hearing him say that and then smiled to herself. “You have some major explaining to do, Mr. Otto.”

She waited for him to start his explanation, knowing “Mr. Otto” would get a rise out of him. Not this time; he was already asleep. She closed her eyes too, comfortable in his arms.

Julia woke before he did, content to rest in his arms until he woke up too. “All right, Paul. When did you join the Church?”

The room was midnight dark. She felt his chuckle. “The second time I went to Denver. President Herrick of the Western States Mission is a mighty persuasive man.”

She took in his words, thinking back to the first time, when he came back from the Denver stock show, so restless and remote. “Maybe I should ask what happened the first time you went to Denver. You were not a happy man.” She stirred in his arms, trying to see his face. He obliged by releasing her and easing her onto her back, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Happy? No, I wasn't.”

“You told me you had finished reading the Book of Mormon,” she said, reflecting on the conversation. “I asked you if you'd prayed to know if it was true. You said you didn't need to and clammed up.”

He traced her nose and lips with his finger, as though he still couldn't believe she was there and alive. “That was no lie. I didn't need to pray about it. I knew the Church was true after I found the rest of that scripture in Mosiah on the way back from Chicago.”