Deborah Camp (2 page)

She pulled back one foot and let it swing forward, giving the man a vicious kick in his ribs. He didn’t make a sound or move a muscle. She popped the whip over his head and his horse skittered a few yards away from her and rolled brown eyes in her direction. She snarled at the horse.

“Think I’m crazy? Well, I am!” Cassie tucked the revolver back into her waistband and rolled the man over onto his back. “Crazy just like my old man!” She bent over and stared at the man’s face. “Well, hell! He’s out cold.” She kicked him again just for spite, then whirled around and went back to her shovel.

She was in no mood to be charitable.

Shorty Potter was put to rest just as the sun touched the horizon. The earth covering his body was warm and the wildflowers strewn across his grave were freshly picked and many-colored. A cross, made from from two pieces of splintered wood, was planted at his head. His initials had been carved in it by careful, loving hands: E. P., for Eben Potter. Only his ma and wife, both long deceased and buried in St. Louis, had ever called him Eben. Everybody knew him as Shorty because he’d only stood five feet and a couple of inches. Of course, Cassie had called him Pa.

His Cassie knelt at his grave, her blond head bent and tears making streaks down her cheeks. Her fingers were interwoven as her lips moved in a silent prayer. She looked a lot like her dead mother, who had stood a couple of inches taller than her pa and delicate of bone. Cassie’s oval face had always reminded Shorty of Pearl, and she had Pearl’s sky blue eyes that tilted up at the corners.

Cassie had been her pa’s best pal ever since she’d learned to walk. She’d followed him everywhere, depending on him for every little thing since Pearl took sick when Cassie’d been no more than a toddler. Pearl would have taught her lady things, but Shorty didn’t know anything about those amenities. He’d taught Cassie how to shoot, use a whip, lasso a horse, and cook up vittles. But he hadn’t taught her how to mourn or pray, and she was having trouble forming the words and fighting off the overwhelming need to cry.

The big chestnut nudged her shoulder and she flung a hand back at it. It backed up a step and blew a hot breath that flared its nostrils and blasted Cassie’s neck. Cassie finished the prayer on a whispered “Amen and amen” and then struggled to her feet. The horse snickered.

“You thirsty?” she asked, reaching out a hand to stroke the chestnut’s velvety nose. She was suddenly glad of its company. “So am I.” She grasped the dangling reins and pulled the horse with her to the back of the cabin. The horse surged forward when it saw the water trough and Cassie smiled. “Whoa, boy.” She let go of the reins and the horse slurped at the lapping water.

She stood back and watched it for a minute before she moved to stand next to it. The saddle was old and scarred, and the blanket was still damp. The chestnut had been ridden hard and long. Running from something or someone? she wondered as her hands closed on the saddlebag and flipped it open. She dipped one hand inside but found nothing but a pearl-handled razor and a slab of lye soap. She jiggled the canteen and listened to its emptiness before she slung it back over the saddle horn.

Cupping her hands, she dipped them in the water and lifted them quickly. The water slapped her in the face. She repeated the action several times until she felt more able to cope with the current situation. Whipping off her hat, she dunked it into the trough and let it fill with the murky water. She carried it carefully to where the man was still lying as she’d left him hours before. Was he drunk? she wondered as droplets of water fell from the hat, making dark polka dots on the light-colored ground. Cassie held the soaked hat over the stranger and then tipped it sideways. The water poured out, splashing over the man’s black hat and dark face.

He didn’t bat an eyelash.

Cassie sighed and studied the unconscious heap of bone and muscle. She toed him with her boot, pushing at his shoulder.

“Hey, you! Wake up, will ya?” She sighed again and looked up when a shadow passed over her. Two turkey buzzards circled above. “Dinnertime?” Cassie asked them.
“I should let you have him.” She dropped to her haunches and eased her wet hat back onto her head. Reaching out two fingers, she placed them just under his jaw and felt the flutter of a pulse. “You ain’t dead … yet.”

She decided that she’d handled this all wrong. If she’d given him a drink he would have ridden on and passed out on someone else’s property. Tipping the brim of his hat back on his head, she scrutinized him. His skin was pale under the flush of red from being out in the sun all day. She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead but couldn’t tell if he had a fever or was just overheated. She wiped his sweat off on her skirt and swallowed a lump of revulsion.

Stretching to her feet, she flexed her shoulders and wondered if she had the strength to drag him out of the sun. Maybe she should just let him lie there until he came around. No, no, she thought with a shake of her head. He might die, and then what would she do with him? She wasn’t up for another burial. She grabbed his ankles and started backing toward the cabin, dragging him with her. His head bounced along the ground and his back scraped against the earth and sent small rocks flying into the air.

It took her a good half hour to get him to the pump at the back of the house. She positioned his head under the spout and primed the pump. She gave the handle a vigorous crank or two and the water bubbled up and out into his face. She kept up a steady stream for a minute or two before he began to sputter and choke; she stopped pumping and pulled out the revolver again.

“Get up,” she ordered.

He moaned.

“Get up and get back on your horse.”

His eyelashes lifted to reveal dark eyes that wouldn’t focus.

“You hear me? Get up or I’ll shoot you.”

His lips moved before his hoarse voice came out. “Go ahead. Shoot me.”

“Get up!” She kicked him in the side.

He winced. “Can’t.” To prove it, he tried to prop himself up on his elbows but didn’t quite make it. He fell back
with a labored breath and slipped into that dark, peaceful place again.

“Hey!” Cassie bent over him. “Wake up!” She glared at him, but it didn’t do any good. He wasn’t listening. Cassie looked around her at the cabin and the chestnut that was standing by the water trough as if he were afraid to leave it. What was she going to do now? she wondered. She looked at his dark face again. Who the hell was he?

The chestnut whinnied and lifted his head, his ears straining forward. Hearing the rattle of wheels and the tapping of hooves, she hurried around the cabin and smiled with relief when she recognized Jewel’s buggy. Lifting an arm, she swung it over her head in a rambunctious welcome as she slipped the gun back into her waistband. Jewel would know what to do. Jewel always knew what to do with men.

The buggy rolled to a stop and Jewel tied off the reins. “Howdy, Cassie!” Her green eyes moved to take in the fresh grave. “Lordy, lordy! I heard about Shorty, but I couldn’t believe it. Somebody shot him in the back?”

“Yes.” Cassie swallowed hard as she helped the older woman down from the buggy. Her hands brushed over a red satin sleeve that ended in a lacy cuff. “You sure look pretty today.”

“Thanks, honey.” Jewel smoothed her skirt and pinned Cassie with a serious look. “You doing okay?”

“Yes … well …” Cassie looked over her shoulder and a frown pinched her face. “I got me a heap of problems. Glad you came.”

“What kind of problems, hon?” Jewel asked, turning to place her parasol on the buggy seat. “Somebody been here bothering you?”

“He’s still here.” Cassie nodded toward the pump. “He’s out cold.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know.” Cassie ran a hand down her face and felt as if she were ready to drop. “He came riding up and he just fell off his horse. I don’t know if he’s drunk or … or what.”

“Let me take a look at him.” Jewel moved with short,
snappy steps, and her full skirt swirled around her legs. “He’s probably drunk.” Jewel chuckled when she saw him. “What’d you do? Try to drown him?” She leaned over and squinted into his face. “He’s …” She straightened as if someone had pressed the point of a knife into her back. Eyes wide and startled, she looked at Cassie. “Ever seen him before?”

“No.” Cassie tipped her head to one side to pick up the signals Jewel was trying to suppress. “Have you?”

“Don’t think so.”

Cassie glanced at the stranger again. “He’s the one out cold, not me.”

“What are you talking about, girl?” Jewel asked, laughing a little as she bent at the waist to look at him again.

“I’m talking about you not telling me the truth. I ain’t stupid. You do know him, don’t you?”

“I can’t be sure,” Jewel said with an exaggerated sigh. “I think it’s just that he looks like somebody I used to know a long, long time ago when I was about your age.” She glanced up at Cassie and smiled. “He’s pretty.”

“Didn’t notice. He looks dirty and sweaty to me.”

Jewel smiled and brushed back his black hair with her pudgy hand. “I don’t think he’s drunk. He looks sickly to me.”

“He said he was thirsty. He wanted to help dig Pa’s grave if I’d, give him and his horse a drink.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

“No.” Cassie squared her shoulders when Jewel delivered a chastising frown. “I’m out here alone. I thought he was up to some no good, and he probably was!”

“Maybe.” Jewel’s eyes narrowed swiftly. “What’s this?” She touched his shoulder, then tore open his shirt. “Lord have mercy! He’s been shot, honey. It’s bleeding again.”

“What?” Cassie moved closer and stared at the wad of rust-colored cloth packed against his shoulder.

“Let’s have a look at this …” Jewel pulled away the cloth, exposing torn flesh and oozing blood.

Cassie turned her face away as bile rose in her throat.

“Shot from behind,” Jewel said. “I think the bullet must
have gone clear through him from the looks of this hole. Didn’t he tell you he was wounded?”

“No. He just said he was thirsty and tired.” She cut her eyes to Jewel and then looked away. “Can you take him back into town with you? I don’t want him here.”

“What would I do with him?”

“Take him to the sheriff’s. He’s probably wanted for something.” Cassie rubbed her sweaty palms against her waist and stared blindly at the side of the cabin. “I’m no nursemaid. I can’t help him.”

“He just needs to rest up. Let’s take him inside.”

“No!” Cassie’s gaze spun around to Jewel. Was she crazy? Taking this … this piece of filth into her house was unthinkable!

“Listen, honey. He’s hurt and—”

“He ain’t my worry.”

Jewel set her hands at her waist. “ ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,’ the Good Book says.”

“You do unto him,” Cassie snapped. “Take him back with you.”

“I was thinking I’d spend the night here with you and head back in the morning.” She smiled, and Cassie knew she was trying to soften her up. “Help me get him inside, Cassie. Don’t be so all-fired stubborn.”

Cassie battled Jewel’s smile for a few moments before surrendering to it. “I don’t know why we’re bothering …”

“Because this fella hasn’t done you any harm, and he needs help.” Jewel went around him and tucked her arms under his. “You get his feet. Look at that. His head’s bleeding.”

“That’s nothing,” Cassie said as she grabbed him under the knees. “I pulled him over to the pump and his head scraped across the ground.”

“Cassie Potter, I swear!” Jewel chuckled and shook her head, sending the red curls on her forehead dancing under her white bonnet. “It’s a wonder you didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t know he was ailing!” Cassie protested. Then she took a deep breath and tried to lift his butt off the ground. “Lord! He weighs a ton!”

“Come on now … on three. One, two, three!” Jewel
moaned as she strained and lifted the man’s shoulders off the ground.

Cassie stumbled backwards toward the cabin, her back and shoulders complaining with the exertion of carrying the weight of the man’s inert body. “You sure he ain’t dead?”

“ ‘Isn’t dead,’ honey,” Jewel corrected her. “No, he isn’t dead yet.” Her voice wavered and her bust lifted and fell with each labored breath. “Almost there. Step up, Cassie.”

Cassie looked over her shoulder and stepped up onto the porch. “Let’s just leave him out here.”

“No, let’s take him inside.”

“Will you take him back with you tomorrow?”

“We’ll see.”

“You can’t leave him here,” Cassie stated firmly.

“He might be able to ride in the morning.” Jewel squeezed through the doorway and nodded in the direction of Shorty’s cot. “Over there.”

“Not on Pa’s bed!”

“Shorty won’t be using it, Cassie. Hurry! My arms are about to fall off!”

They swung him onto the cot, and the wood bedstead creaked as his weight settled on it. Cassie bent over at the waist, resting her hands on her knees as she struggled for a decent breath. She looked at Jewel, who had dropped into a chair, and laughed.

“This is crazy, Jewel,” she said between giggles. “He might be a wanted man. He might have killed somebody. Maybe he killed Pa!”

“I doubt it, Cassie.” Jewel fanned her face for a few moments before forcing herself to her feet and over to the cot. “Get me a pan of hot water and a rag. I’ve got to clean that bullet hole before it gets infected.”

Cassie hesitated, no longer amused by the situation. She didn’t want that man in Pa’s bed. It wasn’t right.

“Cassie, go on,” Jewel urged. “We can’t let him lie here and bleed to death. You can go to hell for that.”

“Some folks say you can go to hell for running a whorehouse too,” Cassie said with a lift of her eyebrows.

“I can talk my way out of that when I see St. Peter, but
I can’t talk my way out of letting a man die when I could have kept him from it.” Jewel pointed a finger toward the doorway. “Go on and fetch me that water.”

Cassie followed Jewel’s orders. It seemed to take forever for the water to boil on top of the wood burner. Once Jewel had the water and rag, Cassie fell into a chair with a weary sigh. She glanced around at the place she called home. It wasn’t much. Four walls and the bare necessities. Shorty had built all the furniture except for the stove, which he’d gotten by mail order. Times had always been as hard as shoe leather, and there was never money for the finer things. Things like those Jewel had in her fancy house on the outskirts of Eureka Springs.