Holding on to Heaven (10 page)

A gasp left her lips when something moved near the water and her inner voice warned her to retreat. She retraced her steps, cut through a stand of pines, and approached the stream from the opposite direction.

The pulse pounded in her neck. From here, she had an excellent view of the stream and of the dead man lying on its banks. His right arm stretched toward the stream, his long, bronze fingers dangling in the aqua-blue depths. Dressed in doeskin pants, fringed moccasins hugged his long, muscular legs. An eagle's feather stuck out from behind his left ear, a stark contrast to his black, shoulder-length hair.

Sage studied him. Dark red blood ran the length of his arm and faded to a frothy pink where it hit the water. A crimson stain covered his pants from thigh to moccasin on the left, seeping into the ground beneath him. The enormous amount of blood loss lent little credibility to the hope he still lived.

Sage advanced with caution and froze when the unmistakable whinny of a horse reached her ears. She craned her neck toward the tall marsh grass and spied a magnificent black and white horse. The beast walked forward, nuzzled the man's face and pawed at the ground. His horse? She inched her way toward the steed, beckoning him, her tone soft and low. The creature's large brown eyes watched her every movement and bolted when she reached out to grab the halter-rope about his snout. Someone had trained him well.

With a disapproving snort, she called after him. "Run you stubborn beast!" She nodded toward the injured man. "This one will receive my attention now."

Garnering her courage, she leaned over him. Not a sound came from his still form. Positioned for hasty flight, she dropped to one knee, hoping to get a better view of his torso. His chest rose and fell in even, labored breaths. He clung to life, yet dwelt in the dream world. Unintelligible words escaped his lips when she rolled his body to the side to assess his wounds. She placed her hand to his forehead to confirm her suspicions—a raging fever consumed him.

She searched her surroundings and contemplated a plan. The last thing she expected to find in the forest was a man, much less one near death. She came to her feet and tore several long strips from the hem of her undergarments. Next, she unsheathed the knife she kept tucked inside her boot. Setting upon a nearby birch and its low-hanging branches, long minutes later, she stood back and admired her handiwork. The travois would get him home.

Amid anguished moans from the brave, she rolled his golden-bronze body onto the litter and tied him down with the remaining strips from her underclothing. Then she dropped to her haunches and studied her accomplishment... and him.

His features were strong and balanced; the taut, smooth skin kissed by the sun. Dark brown eyes, the color of chocolate, fluttered open and then rolled in their sockets. Her heart wrenched from the dazed look of pain in his eyes. As quickly as they opened, his eyes closed, and the man slipped back into blessed forgetfulness.

The painted pony had returned to sniff things out, and this time she had to catch him. She pulled a handful of berries from the pouch at her waistband and stretched her arm out toward his long snout. "You want them, great beast?" She popped one into her mouth and smacked her lips. "Yum, come, take your fill."

The horse dragged a foot through the sand and advanced, and soon another foot followed. Within inches of the berries now, he dropped his head and lapped them up from her hand.

Sage took hold of the halter and breathed a sigh of relief. "He is your master and it's fitting you should pull him." She led him toward the injured man.

Cutting the reins with her knife, she used them to tie the travois to the horse, leaving the harness intact. She surveyed her work again. Strapped down on the travois, he seemed secure. She could do nothing about the blood oozing from his wounds, but Grandmother would know what to do.

Sage stopped twice in the forest to check on him. The blood seeped through his pants and onto the ground, leaving a crimson trail in their wake. Relief flooded her when the swirling chimney smoke from the cabin rose before her.

"Please don't die." She crossed herself. "We're almost there."

* * * *

From the porch, Evrasina cupped a hand over her brow. "Sage returns leading a black and white pony. How does the girl come across so many abandoned beasts?"

Peter Pa rose from his chair with a chuckle. "She comes by it naturally."

At seventy-odd years, an agile Evrasina bounded down the steps, determined to meet her granddaughter in the middle of the field.

Out of breath, at last she reached Sage and craned her neck toward the travois. "Wherever did you find him, child?"

"Next to a stream in the forest." Her voice a mixture of hope and fear, Sage looked into her grandmother's eyes. "He's lost much blood."

"If we don't get him into the cabin, he'll lose more than blood."

Sage's voice wavered. "You can't let him die. Promise me."

"I'll do my best, child. Now, hurry."

Peter Pa joined them at the bottom of the porch steps. Sage cut the reins from the travois and the trio pushed and pulled the litter into the cabin.

Breathless from her endeavors, Evrasina bent at the waist and drew several deep breaths. "Now we carry him into your room and lift him onto the bed, Sage."

Peter Pa slipped his strong arms underneath the man's armpits. "On the count of three, I'll lift his torso, and you take his legs."

Amid a series of wheezes, they labored and soon had him lying on the bed. Evrasina looked down at his prone body, placed a palm to his forehead and frowned. "He burns with fever."

Pushing the curtain aside separating the bedchamber from the kitchen, she hobbled into the kitchen and returned moments later with two jars. One contained white willow, the other burdock. She removed the lids and tossed a pinch of both into a shallow dish of water. "For the fever
and
the infection." She added a pinch of black haw. "This for pain."

Placing her hand behind his neck, the healer brought his head up and spoon-fed him the concoction. He coughed from the bitter remedy trickling down his throat. She eased his head to the pillow and glanced at her granddaughter across the bed. Her long, chestnut hair, dampened by her exertions, lay in a wild mass about her shoulders. Brown eyes, banked by long, thick eyelashes were also moist, whether from the sweat trickling down her forehead or tears, she didn't know.

She stared at Sage. The girl had evolved into a stunning woman, and by the look in her eyes, possessed all the hopes and dreams of one. How foolish of her to think the girl would remain a child forever.

"Evrasina?" Peter Pa clapped his hands. "The man needs your attention."

Bolting into action, she removed the blood-soaked moccasin from his foot and split the tan leggings with one swift cut from her knife.

"His arm is bleeding too," Sage said.

Evrasina leaned over his battered body, her aged eyes focusing on the wound to his arm. "A minor scrape." She smacked her lips and allowed her gaze to travel to his leg again. "Gunshot."

Her granddaughter's eyebrows rose. "He's been shot?"

With a nod, Evrasina probed the wound with two fingers in an attempt to locate the spent shell. The man moaned and retracted his leg. "The ball remains lodged against his thigh bone."

"What must we do?" Sage's voice trembled.

"Bring clean towels, a bowl of hot water, goldenseal and cloves. First we must disinfect the wound and then remove the bullet." Evrasina turned to Peter Pa. "You must tie his limbs to the bed post, William."

Peter Pa hustled from the room, mumbling under his breath. "Whenever you call me William, I know the situation is quite serious."

While waiting for the black haw to take effect, Evrasina inspected the flesh around the wound. "The bullet left a hole the size of child's fist where it entered. Tissue and muscle oozes from the wound, hiding the bullet from the naked eye."

Sage alternated between glancing to the bed and chewing on her finger. At last, his body went limp and his breathing calmed.

Again, Evrasina dug for the bullet. After three failed attempts, she shook her head, heaved a laborious sigh and cast hopeful eyes on Sage. "I can't find it, child; poor eyesight and shaky fingers."

Sage's face paled. "What are we to do?"

"You must find it, dig it out."

She shook her head. "No, do not ask this of me."

"You've done the same with a wounded doe." She drew the words out. "This is no different."

"I can't, it's not the same. This isn’t an animal, but a flesh-and-blood man."

Her voice firm, yet calm, Evrasina pressed her again. "The chains of death await him if you do not try."

Sage pushed the breath through her lips. "Lord, help me." Shaky fingers entered the torn flesh searching for the slug. "I feel the hard metal, but..." Countless times she tried, yet the bullet escaped her grasp. Moans from the brave shattered her concentration. She stopped and wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve.

"Try again." Evrasina forced a calm tone. "The bullet must come out."

Sage raised her head skyward, calling on the spirits. "I beseech you to help me." Focusing on a picture hanging on the wall over the headboard, she resumed the daunting task. "Warm, sticky blood hinders me." Moments later, she pulled her fingers from the wound and held the bullet in the air. "I have it!"

Peter Pa's eyes found hers from across the room. "Bravo, girl, you did it!"

Evrasina threaded her bone needle with sinew and closed up the jagged wound. "We'll need a poultice now, cat's claw and bayberry to fight the infection and fever."

Sage scurried from the room and returned moments later with a muslin cloth soaked in herbs.

Her stitching complete, the healer stepped back and allowed Sage to apply the poultice. Like before, her granddaughter's gaze lingered on the man's face.

"There's nothing we can do now." Evrasina clasped her granddaughter's hand. "God will decide his fate."

"I'll stay with him, Grandmother. You need rest."

"Other than cooling his brow, there is little you can do for him now, child."

Sage pulled a chair from the corner and set it down beside the bed. "I’ll stay," she repeated. "If it's God's plan to take him, no one should die alone."

"What a strong, spirited woman you've grown into, Sage." Emotion choked the words she tried to form. She paused for a moment and continued. "You have made me so very happy, and so very proud."

Her soft, sweet voice reached Evrasina's ripe ears. "I learned to be strong and spirited from a kind, caring woman who descends from hearty German stock. Do you know her, Grandmother?"

The healer couldn’t hold her tears at bay. "Whoever she is, the Lord smiled upon her the day you entered her world."

* * * *

Drifting in and out of sleep, Sage jackknifed up in the chair. Through the dim candlelight, she narrowed her eyes and focused on the man in her bed. His eyelids fluttered before he attempted to rise, and then with a frustrated groan, he collapsed into the mattress again.

"Grandmother, Peter Pa," she called out. "Come at once!"

When his coal black eyes darted about the room, Sage knew he was searching for an escape route. With great effort, he pushed up onto his elbows and surveyed his bandaged leg.

"Please, be still." She placed her hand on his chest and eased him down again. Certain he couldn't understand a word she spoke, she babbled anyway. "You'll open the wound and we'll have a fine mess on our hands then."

Grandmother bustled into the room with cup in hand and Peter Pa followed close behind. She held the cup to the man's lips and motioned for him to drink. For a brief moment, panic filled his pain-filled eyes, but then he seemed to resign himself to the grave situation. He drank Grandmother's remedy and watched them over the rim of the cup. Returning his head to the pillow, he drew several deep breaths.

With his hands fisted, his dark eyes wary, the man watched Peter Pa inch his way to the bed. "Do not be frightened, young man. No harm will come to you here."

Sage ventured to the other side of the bed. "He must understand he'd be dead by now if we meant him harm."

"Give him time to adjust to his strange surroundings," Evrasina said. "He'll remember the events that brought him to our door."

"Water." The single word rang clear from the man's lips.

Finding it difficult to hold back her surprise, Sage gasped. "He speaks our language!"

The fear in his eyes evaporated.

Sage scurried into the kitchen, returning in short order with a tray, a glass of water and a bowl of hot broth. Dragging his body into a sitting position, he scooted back until his spine and head rested against the oak headboard.

Sage set the tray on his lap, handed him the spoon and with shaky fingers, he dipped it into the broth, brought it to his lips and swallowed.

Evrasina clasped her hands and smiled when he swallowed the last drop of broth. "He shall live; his hunger is a good sign."

Standing at the end of the bed, Peter Pa kept his voice low. "You have been on a dark journey, son." He pointed to Sage. "She found you by the stream west of our cabin. You were near death from loss of blood." He nodded toward Evrasina. "She is a great medicine woman and snatched you from the arms of death." His closed fist whipped through the air for drama.

The young man's brow creased and a thoughtful expression transformed his face. After a lengthy pause, he spoke. "I stopped at the stream to drink and saw the image of a man in the water. He raised a rifle. The first shot hit me here." He rubbed his wounded arm. "I tried to run, but the second shot knocked me off my feet."

"I found you lying next to the water," Sage said.

"Believing me dead, he left me for the animals. Darkness took me before I could crawl away." The strong potion took effect causing his eyelids to droop. "My horse." He slurred the words. "I must return to my People."

"Wait," Sage said. "Your name, what is your name?"

"Wanapaya," he whispered and slipped away again.