Comanche Rose (11 page)

"Then it will be too late! If the camps are overrun, she'll be killed with the Comanches!
Surely
you must see—
surely
you must understand—I've got to get her out before then! I cannot just wait for it to happen. Please, there's got to be something. I desperately need help before it is too late, sir," she pleaded. "Susannah's only seven years old, and I don't want her to die with them. Surely you can understand that, Colonel Davidson."

"Forgive me for saying so, Mrs. Bryce, but she may well be dead by now," he responded with unusual gentleness.

"No."

"Three years is a long time in an Indian camp."

"She's got to be alive! She's got to!"

He appeared to consider for a moment, then pressed his fingertips together and leaned across his desk. "If you are determined to assume that, Mrs. Bryce, then you must accept the probability that the child has become as savage as they are. After three years it's more than possible you wouldn't even recognize her."

"She's my flesh and blood, Colonel. I'm her mother," she said more calmly. "I
know
I would know her, no matter how long they've had her. And I know I can make her remember me."

"I understand—and I wish I could offer you some hope, believe me."

Her anger flared. "I
have
hope, sir—it's help I need! And I intend to get it. If I have to write the governor of Texas, or my congressman, or the Secretary of War even—I'm going to get it! If need be, I shall go to Washington to apply directly. But whatever it takes, I shall not give up, ever," she said evenly. Rising, she added stiffly, "I suppose I should thank you for letting me waste your time, Colonel Davidson, but I cannot bring myself to do it. Good day, sir."

As she opened the door, he sat very still, saying nothing. It wasn't until he heard Thompson tell her not to forget her cloak that he could bring himself to speak. "You were right, Will," he said finally. "Anne Bryce has a lot of grit." He sighed heavily, then looked at Sprenger. "It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah." Will leaned forward to pick up his hat. "Guess I'd better make sure she's all right. When what you told her sinks in, she's going to take it real hard."

"The Texans probably won't help her, either," Davidson acknowledged. "There aren't enough rangers to risk sending them on a three-year-old trail."

"No."

"It'd help if she even knew whether it was the Quahadis or the Nokonis," the colonel mused. Suddenly, he heaved his frame up from the chair, asking, "Can Walker have visitors yet?"

"He's on the mend. He can't get around, but he's on the mend. Why? He's not in any condition to help her, I can tell you that for sure."

"No, but maybe he can tell me whether he found Bull Calf on or off the reservation."

CHAPTER 7

"Like I said, you're too tough to die," Will Sprenger observed wryly. "Damned if it doesn't look like you've beaten this."

"Either that or I'm too ornery," Walker agreed. Sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, he looked up, and his expression sobered. "Thanks, Doc. A week ago, I wouldn't have bet two bits on my chances."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have, either," Will admitted. "I thought we'd be cutting off that leg come morning, and I figured it'd be touch and go even then. Guess it was the bromine that finally did it—that and Mrs. Bryce," he added slyly. "Woman was weaker'n an ant, and more than half sick herself, but she sat up all night with you, trying to bring that fever down one drop of water at a time. Bathed you, too." Turning around, he searched for his magnifying glasses. "Don't suppose you remember any of it, though."

"I knew I was sucking on a rag. The water tasted like laundry soap, but I was too dry to care. And I halfway came to during the bath, but I was too out of it to know who was doing the washing."

"Guess she must've thought she owed it to you." Hooking his glasses over his ears, Will returned his attention to the matter at hand. "I want to get a good look at those stitches, Hap," he murmured. "I know some of my colleagues like to leave 'em in a while, but I'm of the opinion that if they stay too long, the skin tightens around them, and you do more damage than necessary getting 'em out." Lifting the blanket and sheet covering Walker's leg, he bent closer to examine his handiwork. "Hmmm. Yeah, I'd say it looks damned good right now. When's the last time you ran a fever?"

"I don't know—Wednesday or Thursday, I guess."

"I could look it up and find out for sure, but I think it's been long enough, anyway. How's the leg feel?"

"Better than any day since the bullet hit it."

"Stand down. I want you to tell me what it feels like with your weight on it."

"It feels all right."

Will looked up at that. "You've been on it, haven't you?"

"Not until yesterday."

"Dammit, Hap! Who's the doc around here, me or you? When I give an order, it's an order!"

"It's too damned hard to use the pan with another man looking at you," Hap muttered mulishly, not meeting Sprenger's eyes. "Besides, I wanted to know if I could walk, or if I was going to be a cripple forever."

"I'm supposed to be the judge of that," Will grumbled. "All right, what did you find out? It hold you up like you want?"

"It's sore, but yeah, it holds me up."

"You
used crutches, didn't you?"

"Tried to—a couple of times, anyway. Kinda hard to get 'em in the privy with me, you know."

His mouth drawn into a thin line, Will picked up his scissors and small forceps. "If you move, I'm liable to stab you—you
can
sit still, can't you?"

"Barely."

Working deftly, the surgeon cut and picked out each stitch, pausing to drop the tiny pieces of silk thread onto the tray. Noting Walker gripping the edge of the mattress, he asked, "This hurt?"

"No."

"Never figured you for a liar," Will murmured, finishing up. "Now," he said, straightening, "I'm only going to say this once, and you can do what you damn well please, but you'd better stay on those crutches a week at least. If something busts open in there, I'll be
damned
if I'll fix it again. See that you remember that, Captain." Turning around to wash his hands in the basin, he acknowledged, "I expect it's not easy for a hard-living man like you to sit around and do nothing."

Hap took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "It's harder'n you'd ever think, Doc—harder'n you'd ever think."

"Don't like selling cattle much, do you?"

"No. Only thing good about it is I can kinda keep my eye on Clay."

"He did all right for himself, I'd say, but I never figured you'd wind up working for him. I never took you for a cattleman."

Sprenger had touched a spot rawer than the one in his leg, and Hap didn't want to expose it further. "How is she, anyway?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"How's who?"

"Mrs. Bryce."

Will considered for a moment, then allowed, "She's damned disappointed, but I expect Davidson told you about that. If it'd been me, I'd have told her I'd file a report—or look like I was doing something, anyway. The woman's lived on hope, and damned if he didn't dash it right down. Man's too concerned with his damned regulations to act more'n half human. He thinks telling her he's sorry is enough."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, Doc."

"But other than that, she's coming along better'n I'd expected," Sprenger murmured, returning to Annie's condition. "Don't guess you were in any shape to notice much about her, but she's a real pretty woman—be a fine looker once she puts a little meat on those bones. I thought for a moment she was even going to soften up Black Jack, but I don't guess that's possible."

"That's what everybody said—that she was real pretty, I mean. I guess her husband was good-looking, too, but it was hard to tell it by the time Rios and I found him. Yeah," he said, exhaling. "They left Bryce lying in a field, facedown in the mud. By the looks of it, he was still alive when they tore his scalp off."

"God."

"Worst of it, it was too late to go after the wife. Maybe if Clay hadn't been down in Laredo, things might've turned out different. He thought like 'em—knew where they'd hide—but we didn't. Hell, it rained about three or four days along in there, washing their tracks out. The San Saba was high, too, and by the time we got across it, there was no sign left to follow."

"You can only do so much, Hap. If you were in my business, you'd know that."

"It doesn't make it any easier. Besides, she had two little kids with her, and knowing that made it even worse."

"Damned savages killed the baby."

"Davidson told me. I guess the little girl's still out there."

"If she's alive."

"Yeah. 'Course if the kids survive, they adopt 'em and treat 'em just like flesh and blood. If she's alive, she's a Comanche."

"That's what old Black Jack told her."

"Yeah, I know. I think he felt pretty bad for saying it," Hap ventured. "Hell, I know he did."

"The way he and Haworth get along, he's not even going to ask for help at the agency. Not that he'd get it, anyway," Sprenger admitted. "Now Cora's all upset that Mrs. Bryce wants to go home to Texas. She was looking forward to having the company for a month or so. It's hard for a woman out here on a post, what with the other women either being Negresses or gossipy officers' wives, most of whom are twenty or more years younger than Cora. She's taken a real liking to Annie. For one thing, we lost a girl back in '53, which would have made her about Annie's age. For another, Cora thinks she needs mothering right now."

"She probably does. It's going to be damned hard on her in Texas."

"I've already seen some of that around here. But to tell you the truth, I don't think she cares. All she wants is that little girl."

"Yeah, women kinda pine for the young'uns," Hap agreed. "They never get over losing 'em. So she's going home right away?"

"Well, there's a supply train of wagons coming up from Fort Griffin now that the road's passable. I was thinking of telling her about it. They'd probably take her back that far, anyway, and then I know somebody'll be going down from Griffin toward Concho before long." Seeing that Hap frowned, Will demanded, "What's the matter?"

"I don't know, Doc. Some bullwhackers are real hard cases. And given where she's been, they're apt to have notions. Maybe you ought to send her with the mail."

"It'd be out of her way." Sprenger considered for a moment, then nodded. "But I see what you're saying."

Hap reached for the crutches propped against the wall, then slid off the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To the privy. Then I'm going to see if my borrowed britches fit. If they do, I'm going for a walk."

"Like hell."

"Yeah. I figured I'd go over to the store and get myself a razor and a bottle of whiskey. At least that way I'll be a good-looking drunk."

"Or a crippled one."

"I'm all right."

Will's mouth turned down at one corner. "You and the Bryce woman must've been cut from the same cloth. You'd both be saying you were all right if you were dying."

Hap shrugged. " 'Way I look at it, it's a whole lot better than complaining, Doc."

"Only if it's the truth." Removing his surgeon's apron, Will folded it up, then laid it aside. "If it looks like you're going to fall, call for Walsh. He's out there passing out paregoric for the runs again."

"Remind me not to eat in the enlisted men's mess," Hap murmured.

"It's not the food, it's the water. People've been keeping pigs, and the waste drains into the creek. Hell, you got enlisted men drinking and bathing in it, but since Davidson gets his water from the well, he refuses to see the problem. But I finally got his attention on the health and hygiene report, so I guess he's giving everybody a week to find someplace else to keep the animals until they're butchered."

"Yeah, he wouldn't want anything bad going in on anything official."

"Tell you what, you get around on those crutches without falling, and I'll tell Cora to set another place at dinner." Sprenger reached for his hat and carefully placed it over his thinning gray hair. "I'll tell one of the boys to come on early and help you over. We eat about six-thirty, and Cora's pretty much set about that." Turning back to Hap, he added significantly, "Be a whole lot better for you than swigging on a bottle by yourself. Besides, it'll give you another look at Annie Bryce. You owe her, you know."

"Yeah." Actually, Hap had been thinking about that, but there was something about facing a woman who'd seen him buck naked that made him uncomfortable. It was as though she'd seen the worst of him already. And what made it even harder was the guilt he felt for what had happened to her. But if she was going to leave, it was time he got around to thanking her. "Yeah."

"Good." Moving to remove his coat from the peg by the infirmary door, Will glanced out the window. His hand stopped in midair. "Well, I'll be damned."

"What?"

"Haworth's going to be mad as hell. They're bringing in one of his pets—in irons."

Cursing the damned crutches under his breath, Hap hobbled up behind the surgeon for a look. Sure enough, surrounded by at least a dozen troopers, a manacled Comanche sat astride a bony pony, his impassive face giving him a majestic look despite the ragged blanket that covered his shoulders.

"Looks like you were wrong, Doc," he murmured.

"About what?"

"Black Jack's arrested Bull Calf."

Annie was sitting alone in her room, composing a letter to the Bank of Austin, asking for an appointment to go over her affairs as soon as she got home, when Cora knocked on the door. As she looked up, the older woman came in.

"I know it won't begin to make up for what happened, but at least they've caught him," she said. "I thought you'd want to know they've arrested the savage responsible."

For a moment Annie was at a loss. "They've arrested whom?"

"Colonel Davidson said to tell you that you don't have to face him. If you give a sworn statement, he believes it will be enough—at least to hold him, anyway," Cora explained. "Indeed, he wanted to tell you himself, but I thought perhaps the shock might overset you, so I said I'd prepare you."