Finding Promise (17 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Promise was peeling apples for the pie she was baking for Jake, and talking with her aunt, trying to keep her mind off saying good-bye to him. “I thought my cousins would be here with your grandchildren.”

“I told them to give you the night to rest before they came to the house. Those grandchildren are a handful, and they're sure to ply you with a million questions.” Nettie also wanted time alone with Promise, to give her time to talk privately if she wanted.

“I can't wait to see them,” Promise replied.

“You will be seeing a lot of them since they spend more time here than they do at their own homes.” Nettie noticed Promise made several trips to the window to look out. “Honey, what are you looking for?” she finally asked.

“Mr. McBride should have been here by now. He's been gone for hours,” Promise replied.

Nettie walked over and put her arm around her niece. “Honey, now don't get yourself worked up. Something probably kept him in town longer than he expected. There's a man who can take care of himself if I've ever seen one.”

“Something's wrong. I know it. I think Uncle John should have someone go look for him.”

Her uncle walked into the kitchen in time to hear the last part of their conversation. “Who do you want to look for?”

“Mr. McBride. He should be here by now,” Promise told him.

“It's not that late. We can delay dinner,” he replied.

Promise shook her head. “I know Mr. McBride. He would be here by now if something wasn't wrong.”

John glanced at his wife. He didn't want his niece to worry needlessly. She'd been through enough. “I guess I can ride to town and see what's keeping him, if that will put your mind at ease.”

Promise grabbed her uncle's arm. “Please don't go alone.” She was terrified she was going to lose the rest of her family.

John smiled down at her. “I'll take some men, honey, don't you worry.”

Within minutes of leaving Promise and Nettie in the kitchen, Hollister and two of his men were riding toward Denver. Less than three miles from the ranch, they saw Jake's horse standing in the middle of the road. When they got closer they saw the horse nudging a body on the ground.

They jumped off their horses, and Hollister reached Jake as one of his men grabbed Preacher's reins to pull him away. Hollister knelt beside Jake and turned him over and saw the gunshot wound in his chest. Blood was still oozing out of the wound, leading Hollister to think Jake hadn't been lying there long. He felt for a pulse in his neck, not really expecting one. “He's alive . . . barely.” Hollister took his bandanna out and stuffed it inside Jake's shirt over the wound.

“The ranch is closer than town,” one of his men said.

Hollister hesitated, fearing Jake might not make it. Promise couldn't handle it if Jake died. Yet Jake deserved the best chance he could give him. “Let's get him across his horse.”

It took the three of them to lift Jake across Preacher's saddle.

“Jeb, you go on to town, get the doctor and tell him to come quick,” Hollister instructed.

 

 

Promise and Nettie were waiting on the front porch when the men rode in slowly. Promise jumped from her chair as soon as she recognized Jake's horse. Seeing Jake over Preacher's saddle, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no!”

Hollister jumped off his horse, yelling for another man to come help them lift Jake and carry him inside the house.

“Dear Lord, what happened, John?” Nettie asked, pulling the door open for them.

“We found him on the road,” John explained. The three men struggled under Jake's weight, but they managed to get him inside. “Take him to the room at the back of the house. We'll never get him upstairs.” John glanced at Promise. “One of my men has gone for the doctor, he'll be here soon, honey.”

“Promise, help me heat water and get some bandages ready.” When Promise didn't move, Nettie feared she was in shock. She touched her niece gently on the shoulder. “Honey, he needs us now. Let's do what we can.” Taking her by the hand, she led Promise to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, Promise managed to get control of her fear. She tore a large sheet into strips while Nettie set some water to boil. “Shouldn't the doctor be here?” she asked her aunt.

“I'm sure he will be here soon,” Nettie replied calmly. “Go ahead and take the bandages. I'll be there as soon as the water is hot.”

Promise hurried to the back room, praying to God that Jake would survive. As soon as she walked through the door, she saw him lying motionless. His shirt had been removed, and her uncle was holding a pillowcase against the wound. He looked up when she neared the bed, and the anguish on her face was unmistakable. “He's alive, honey.”

Nettie entered the room with the water and placed it on the table by the bed. “Promise, do you want me to clean his wound, or would you prefer to?”

Looking at her aunt through her tears, Promise was grateful she had asked. She remembered the way Jake had cared for her. “Let me.”

“John, why don't you remove his boots while I cover him so we can get those pants off him,” Nettie said.

John gently tugged off Jake's boots. “He's going to be uncomfortable on this bed since he's at least a foot longer.”

Nettie knew her husband was just trying to make conversation so Promise wouldn't think he was worried. “We'll pull a trunk in here and put it at the foot of the bed. I can add some quilts on top to make it more comfortable for him.”

“That's why I married you, honey. You're the brains of this outfit.” He glanced at Promise as she gently cleaned Jake's chest. The tears streaming down her cheeks broke his heart.

Nettie settled the sheet over Jake from the waist down, and then moved to the opposite side of the bed. “John, I've unbuckled his holster. Can you lift him a bit and I will pull it off?”

John gently lifted Jake's hip on one side, trying hard not to jostle him. Once Nettie slid the holster off, John removed his pants.

“I hear the door,” Nettie said, hanging Jake's holster on the bedpost.

John walked to the hall and yelled, “Doc, we're in the back.”

Doc Rawlings hurried into the room, acknowledging John and Nettie.

“This is my niece, Promise,” John said.

Promise moved out of the way so he could tend to Jake.

The doc smiled at her. “I've heard all about you from your aunt and uncle.” He leaned over and poked around the gaping hole in Jake's chest. “You've done a fine job of cleaning him up.”

“Will he be okay?”

“That bullet has to come out.” As he felt Jake's pulse, he looked him over, taking note of his muscled body. “But he looks as strong as an ox, and that's a good thing.” He looked at the wound again before he started pulling the contents from his black bag. “That bullet is lodged very close to his heart. It could prove tricky getting it out.”

Nettie glanced at Promise and saw she was clenching Jake's hand. “What can we do to help?”

“You've been doing it. You might get some whiskey while I go wash my hands.”

“I'll get the whiskey,” John said. When they reached the kitchen, John asked in a low voice, “Can you get that bullet out without killing him?”

“I didn't know how much I should say in front of Nettie and your niece, but it's going to be tough. It looks like it's just a hair's width from his heart. I can't say I hold out much hope.”

Bracing his hands on the table, John hung his head. “Doc, do your best to save him. This man saved my niece's life, and I don't think she could handle it if he didn't make it.”

“Is he her betrothed?”

“No, it's nothing like that. I'll tell you all about it when this is over.”

The doctor patted John's shoulder. “I'll do my best. Now get that whiskey and let's get to it.”

Returning to the room with the doctor, John inclined his head at his wife, hoping she understood he wanted Promise out of the room. “Honey, why don't you and Promise make some coffee for the doc? If we need you, I'll come get you.”

Nettie could tell from her husband's grim expression that the doc was not confident Jake would survive. She placed her arm around Promise, urging her toward the door. “Come on, honey. Let the doc do his job. We have our own work to do.”

Promise leaned over and kissed Jake's forehead. She silently asked God to watch over him before her aunt led her from the room.

After they made coffee and sandwiches, Nettie and Promise sat at the kitchen table drinking their third cup of coffee. Nettie tried to engage her in conversation, but Promise didn't seem to hear her. “Doc Rawlings is a good doctor. I'm sure he's seen difficult wounds before.”

Finally, Promise turned her attention to her aunt. “Mr. McBride has done so much for me, and now he could die because of me.”

“This is not your fault, honey, so don't you go thinking it is,” her aunt said.

Promise's eyes filled with unshed tears. “Mr. McBride said the same thing to me when I wanted to leave the drive because he'd had nothing but trouble since he found me.”

“And he was right,” her aunt replied.

“Can you hold that light a little closer?” the doc asked John.

John moved the lamp an inch closer. “Any closer and I will singe your eyebrows.”

“John, this bullet is about as close to his heart as it could get without making things worse. And I'm not as steady as I once was.”

John was close enough to see the beads of perspiration on the doc's forehead. He didn't want him making a mistake on Jake. “You need a shot to steady yourself before you try to pull it out?”

The doc glanced at him over his glasses. “I think I do.” He swiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve.

Setting the lamp aside, John poured two healthy glasses of whiskey and handed one to the doc. “Here's to steady hands,” he said.

Nodding his agreement to the toast, the doc downed his whiskey in one gulp, took a deep breath, and pushed his sleeves above his elbows. He looked at John and said, “Grab the lamp.” He pulled a bottle of chloroform out of his bag and handed it to John. “If he so much as twitches, put a small amount of this on a cloth and hold it over his mouth and nose. I don't want this big buck moving while I'm working.”

Long minutes later, they had another shot of whiskey before John yelled to the women to bring them some coffee.

The women entered the bedroom, and Promise held out a cup of coffee to the doctor. “How is he?”

“I removed the bullet without hitting his heart, but it's too soon to tell. He's lost a lot of blood.” He paused, noticing the terrified look on the young woman's face. He softened his abrupt bedside manner. “He's a strong man, and from the looks of him he's in good health, and that's in his favor.”

John picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured some in the doc's coffee. “I think you need this after what you've been through.”

“Enough of that now,” Nettie scolded. “You two need to get something to eat.”

“I'll stay with him,” Promise said.

“He's likely to be out for a while. But if he should come around, don't let him move an inch,” the doc said.

 

 

Promise sat in a chair next to Jake and held his hand while she watched his chest move up and down, fearful that he might stop breathing at any moment. Thinking of the many days they'd spent on the trail, she'd rarely seen him when he wasn't in motion. It was terrifying to see this larger-than-life man so still. What she wouldn't give right now just to see him open his eyes. She leaned over and gently stroked his cheek, thinking of the first time she saw him. At the time, she thought he was extremely handsome, albeit quite formidable. Before long, she realized there was much more to Jake McBride than his intimidating countenance. She recalled the many stories Shorty had told her about Jake, and she'd learned that Shorty had never exaggerated; they were all true. Jake was a man of integrity, admired by many, feared by some. In her mind no other man could ever measure up to him. She couldn't pinpoint the exact time when it happened, but somewhere on the trail she'd lost her heart to this man. He was one of a kind, and her life would never be the same if he died, whether he felt the same way about her or not.
Please take care of him, God. I couldn't bear to lose him too.
She leaned over and pressed her lips to his.

Chapter Twenty

Riding slowly at dusk, Colt and Strait heard the cattle before they saw them. Within minutes, a large herd of grazing cattle came into view. Colt felt certain that this was Jake's drive, and he caught sight of two men riding the perimeter. Colt could tell even at a distance that neither man was Jake, but one of them looked like Cole Becker. Colt's attention was diverted by a group of eight men riding toward Cole and the other cowboy.

Colt didn't like the looks of this face-off. “Strait, let's go join this party.” When they reined in, every head turned to them. Colt gave an imperceptible nod in Cole's direction.

“Mister, I suggest you and your friend keep on riding,” the leader of the group of eight said.

Colt gave him a hard look. “I didn't ask for your suggestions.”

The man glared at Colt before turning his attention back to Cole. “I warned you drovers once. Mr. Schott doesn't want free grazers on his land.”

“Like I told you before, we're on open range and we will be moving on in the morning. Not before,” Cole responded with a hard edge to his voice.

“You work for Schott?” Colt asked. Colt had met Schott before.

“Yeah, we do. Mr. Schott owns the largest ranch in Colorado,” the man replied. “What's it to you? You riding with this outfit?”

As a rancher, Colt understood how cattle grazing on open range could leave an area bare, but he also understood cattle had to eat. “Schott knows this is open range.”

“Mr. Schott was here long before anyone else, and his cattle graze on this land, so that makes it Schott land. He don't tolerate free grazers.”

“As the man told you, they are moving on in the morning,” Colt said.

“You're wrong. They're moving on now,” Schott's man replied.

“Maybe you lost some of your hearing. We'll be moving on in the morning,” Cole said.

Colt watched intently to see if any of Schott's men were thinking about going for their guns. Seeing a few hands inch toward their holsters, Colt warned, “I wouldn't.” He moved to Cole's side, with Strait following his lead.

The leader of the group wasn't sure he wanted to do battle with Colt. It was more than his size that intimidated him; he had a hard edge, indicating he was a tough hombre who could back up his words. “You heard what we said. We'll be back with more men,” he said without looking directly at Colt.

Colt moved his horse forward until he was side by side with the man doing the talking. He leaned over in the saddle until his face was inches away. “I'm Colt McBride, and these cattle are headed to my ranch. If one man on this drive gets so much as a hangnail, or one steer trips and hurts himself before they leave Colorado, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“A lot of men work for Mr. Schott. You can't take us all on,” the man boasted.

“I'm not worried about how many men Schott has. I will find you.”

Schott's man looked into the darkest, most foreboding eyes he'd ever seen. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine. He glanced at the men next to him. “Let's go.”

Once the men were out of sight, Colt turned to Cole. “Sorry for butting into your argument, but something about that cowboy just rubbed me the wrong way.”

“No problem. They didn't hear what I had to say. I have a feeling you made the point better than I could have,” Cole responded. Colt's threat would have made him nervous if he were on the receiving end. “What are you doing out here?”

“I received a telegram from Jake. He mentioned he had some trouble, and I wanted to see if he needed any help,” Colt explained. “Where is he?”

“Denver. Let's get to camp and we'll fill you in on what's happened.”

 

 

“Why is he still in Denver?” Colt asked as soon as he got off his horse. He allowed the wrangler to see to the animals so he could talk to Cole.

Shorty poured Colt and Strait some coffee. “Sit and have something to eat while we tell you.”

The men explained about the wagon-train killings and about Jake finding Promise. They filled him in on the events since that day, omitting no detail.

“We expected Jake to catch up with us by now,” Cole said, obviously worried. “I told Shorty if we don't see him by tomorrow, I'm going back to Denver. That's the reason we are staying in the area again tonight.”

Listening to Shorty and Cole, Colt felt a keen sense of urgency. Something had happened to his brother, he just knew it. “I can make it to Denver by tomorrow,” he told them.

“Not unless you're planning on riding all night,” Shorty responded.

Colt jumped up. “That's exactly what I'm going to do.” He glanced at Strait and said, “You deserve a rest after the ride we've had. Stay the night, get some rest.”

Strait stood and reached for his gear. “No way. I'm coming with you.”

“Colt, be careful. There's at least a dozen men involved in that attack,” Cole warned.

“If they've done anything to my brother, they'll need more than that to stop me.”

Cole had seen Colt in action with a gun, and he had no doubt he could take on all of those killers at one time and be the one to walk away. “I'd really like to come with you, but I promised Jake I'd get the cattle to the ranch,” Cole said.

“Then that's what you should do,” Colt agreed. “If those men come back with more guns, you'll be needed here.”

“Wait a darn second before you go riding off. Let me put some food together to take with you,” Shorty said, scurrying off to the cook's wagon.

After Colt and Strait left, Shorty looked at Cole. “Now there's a man I wouldn't want to tangle with. He's the biggest man I ever saw, and I bet he's a mean one if need be. Those black eyes of his told me he was Jake's brother straightaway.”

“Believe me, it's not only his size that intimidates. I've seen him in action, and he's so fast you can't even see his gun leave his holster,” Cole told him.

Night had fallen by the time Colt and Strait rode into Denver the next day to see if Jake was there. Cole had told Colt that Jake didn't necessarily trust the sheriff and his deputies, so Colt planned to steer clear of them. He figured the saloon would be as good a place as any to see if Jake was in town. If he wasn't there, his next stop would be Hollister's. If he got lucky he might even see the eight men who'd visited the cattle drive.

“Let's take the horses to the livery before we go to the saloon. We can see if Preacher is there,” Colt told Strait.

“Sounds good.”

In the livery, Colt looked around for Jake's horse, but Preacher wasn't there. He figured Jake must be at Hollister's. They cared for their horses, paid the owner to give them some grain, and walked toward the saloon. Colt spotted the telegraph office and stopped to send his wife a telegram like he'd promised. He didn't want her fretting about him.

Before entering the saloon, Colt glanced at every horse tied to the rails, thinking he might recognize the animals ridden by the eight men who'd threatened the drive. But they didn't look familiar, so he and Strait walked inside and headed to the bar, where they ordered whiskey. They casually looked around the room as they sipped their drinks. Colt's gaze landed on a big man at a poker table who seemed particularly interested in him.

“Looks like someone has seen a ghost,” Strait said in a low voice.

“Yeah.”

A man with a star pinned to his chest sat next to the big man. The big man leaned over and whispered something to him. The lawman's head snapped up and he looked across the room, directly at Colt.

This was getting interesting, Colt thought. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the bartender. “Can we get a couple of steaks?”

“Yessir, I'll see to it,” the barkeep replied.

Colt and Strait grabbed the bottle of whiskey and walked to a table at the back of the room that gave them a clear view of the saloon.

“They seemed real interested in you,” Strait said.

“I had the same feeling.”

The bartender arrived with their steaks and Colt asked, “Can you tell me where the Hollister ranch is located?”

The bartender gave him directions, but before he walked away he said, “I saw a man in here a few days ago that looked a lot like you.”

“Is that right?”

“Well now, he wasn't as big as you, but if not for that, he was near your double.”

“Did he leave town?” Colt asked.

“Yeah, I saw him ride out and I ain't seen him again. Are you relations?”

“Might be.”

Seeing Colt wasn't going to offer more information, the bartender walked away.

Colt and Strait finished their steaks and left the saloon to head back to the livery. A man exiting the livery stared slack-jawed at Colt. “I apologize for staring, but you look just like a fellow who was in my store a few days ago. Your name wouldn't be McBride, would it?”

“It is,” Colt acknowledged.

The man stuck his hand out. “My name is Clarke Parsons. Your brother came in for supplies. He'd met my brother in Dodge—he's the doctor there. Jake had him take care of a woman he'd found injured.”

Colt shook his hand and introduced Strait. He'd heard about the doctor from Cole and Shorty. “Do you know if my brother is at the Hollister ranch?”

“Then you don't know?” Clarke asked.

“Know what?”

“I hate to have to tell you this, but your brother was shot. Doc Rawlings told me that John Hollister found him on the road, shot in the chest and left for dead.”

Colt felt a stabbing pain in his own heart. “Is he . . .” His words faltered and he couldn't finish the question.
Dear God, please don't let him be dead
.

Clarke put his hand on Colt's shoulder. “No, no, I'm sorry, I didn't make it clear. He's still alive, but Doc says he's in a real bad way.”

Colt was so choked up he couldn't speak, so Strait asked the question he knew Colt would ask. “Is he at the doc's office?”

“No, Hollister's place was closer, and the doc said if they'd ridden to town with him in his condition, he wouldn't have made it.”

Colt calmed down enough to ask, “Who shot him?”

“The doc didn't know. Your brother was asking some questions about strangers in town who might have had something to do with those people who were killed on that wagon train. I told him about the strangers hanging around at the saloon.”

“Are they still here?”

“Yes.” Clarke gave him the descriptions he'd given Jake.

One description fit the big man Colt had seen at the saloon. “We saw one of the deputies with the big man.”

“That was Potter. I'll tell you the same thing I told your brother. Don't trust the deputies in this town,” Clarke replied.

“What about the sheriff?” Strait asked.

“He's just trying to make it to retirement, so he's not taking much of an interest in anything.” Clarke glanced around nervously to see if anyone was watching them. “I was thankful Hollister found your brother, because I have a feeling some of the deputies are involved in whatever is going on. When I last saw your brother he was walking to the saloon. I noticed he stopped to look at the horse one of the deputies has been riding.”

“Potter?” Colt asked.

“Yep, and the horse is right over there,” he said, pointing toward the saloon. “It's that big black with the white stockings and star on his forehead.”

Colt glanced at the horse tied at the rail, curious why his brother was interested in that particular animal. “I'll be right back.” When he reached the horse, he noticed he was a fine-looking animal, but much too thin. Jake was as much of a stickler for the care of horses as he was, and he didn't abide any man abusing them. He figured that was the reason for his brother's interest. He pulled the horse's reins from the rail and led him back across the street.

“How long has that deputy been riding this animal?” Colt asked Clarke.

“Several weeks,” Clarke said.

“Thanks for the information.”

Clarke knew Colt was asking for trouble taking Potter's horse. “You better watch your back. I don't want to see you ambushed like your brother.”

“I'm taking him to the livery to have the man there feed him and give him a good brushing. If anyone has a problem with that, tell them where they can find me.”

Before Clarke walked away, he said, “Mr. McBride, my brother was nearly beaten to death in Dodge. I just received a letter from him yesterday. He said a friend there overheard strangers in the saloon asking about my brother tending that gal your brother found on that wagon train.”