Lauraine Snelling (21 page)

The two helped Cassie stand again and half carried her out the door. Micah had brought the horses around. Lucas swung aboard and scooted back over his cantle to sit behind his saddle. Micah and Ransom lifted Cassie in front of him and settled her into his saddle.

“I can ride Wind Dancer,” she protested.

“You could, but this way we can make sure you get there in one piece,” Lucas murmured in her ear.

The warmth of his arms around her seeped through her coat, and Cassie let herself lean against his chest. They started down the hill, but Lucas stopped. “Othello, go home.”

But the dog just hung back and continued after them.

“Cassie, tell him to go home. We don’t want to have to worry about the dog too.”

“Othello, g-go home.” She tried to speak sternly but stuttered instead. “Is he obeying?”

“He sat down.” Lucas turned the horse and stopped by the dog. “Tell him again.”

“Othello, good boy. Now go home. I’m okay. Go home. Now!” She threw all her energy into the command. Othello waited, turned, and started back up the hill.

“He’s minding.” They continued down the hill and across the valley.

They stopped at the ranch house to let Mavis know what had transpired before heading into town.

“Oh, Cassie, I’m so sorry. I never dreamed they’d really follow through on their threats.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt nobody,” Crazy Jud mumbled. “Jest scare ’em off.”

“Well,
mean to
and
are
are two different things. I hope Edgar throws away the jail key after he locks all of you up.” Mavis stopped by Ransom’s stirrup. “I could come along, you know.”

“You could, but this will work the best. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The ride passed in a blur of pain and motion, cold and freezing tears. This was too much. They’d not done anything to deserve this. The jeers and curses, the laughter and obscenities pounded along with the rhythms in her head. Would this bad nightmare ever be done and gone?

Did they dare stay here, or would it be better for all concerned if they moved on? Leave behind the only real home she’d ever known and go to who knows where next?

God, if this is an example of your kind of protection, I think you didn’t live up to your word.

R
ansom pounded on the door of the doctor’s house in Argus. “Wake up, Doc! We’ve got some injured people here.” He pounded again. “Come on, Doc.”

From behind the door came “Hold your horses. I’m coming.” Doctor Barnett opened the door. “Ransom Engstrom. What’s wrong?”

Ransom turned around. “Bring her in, Lucas.”

“What about that guy?” Lucas called.

“I’ll be right there. We have two for you, Doc. Take the girl first.”

Doc held the door open, and Lucas carried a mumbling Cassie inside, swinging around to keep from banging her feet or head on the doorjamb.

“Put her over there on the table.” Doc waved an arm. “What happened?”

“Three, four of the town riffraff shot up our cabin tonight where Miss Lockwood and her friends are staying. Case Beckwith and his bunch didn’t like the color of our new neighbors’ skins.” Ransom left. He heard the doctor saying, “Right here. Careful.”

Ransom pushed through the front door, half dragging, half carrying the wounded man. “Where do you want him?”

“Is the bleeding stopped?”

“Pretty much. Bullet creased his head.”

“That chair by the door will be fine. If he can’t sit in it, drop him on the floor.”

Lucas had set Cassie on the examination table, keeping an arm around her to hold her upright. “Would it be better if she were lying down?”

“Yes. Let me call the missus to come help us.” He stepped into the hall, hollered up the stairs, and returned.

Lucas carefully laid her back, and Ransom swung her legs up onto the examining table. How could she suddenly be so small? Her face like alabaster, so white and still. She’d taken a bullet. Could it possibly have been from one of
their
guns rather than the screaming maniacs’? The thought made swallowing difficult. When in all the fracas had she been hit?

Doc placed his hands to either side of Cassie’s head and raised one of her eyelids with a thumb. Ransom was going to protest that it was her arm, not her eye, but the doctor was saying, “Lost a fair amount of blood, looks like; pallid under her eyelid where it ought to be pink.”

“We think the bullet went right on through. Don’t know if it nicked the bone or not.”

Mrs. Barnett bustled in, still tying her wrapper. “Why, this is that young lady from the Wild West Show. I’ve heard such good things about her.” She leaned over so Cassie would hear her. “We’re going to get your wrapper off so we can see the damage. It’s going to hurt, but I’ll be careful as I can.”

Cassie mumbled a reply.

“Ransom, light those lamps and set them on the shelves over here so we can see better.”

Ransom did as told. A thunk from the front room took Ransom back out the door. Their prisoner lay in a heap on the floor. “Well, you fool, trying to run away, were you? I do hope you saw stars and plenty of them.”

The doctor waved Ransom away. “You want to go get the sheriff? I’m sure he’ll be so delighted to be gettin’ up at this hour that he’ll thank you kindly.”

“Thanks heaps. Give me the fun jobs.” Ransom headed out the front door, out from the yellow light of the doctor’s examining room into chill blackness, away from the bloody wound of a young woman trying to protect her friends. Seeing a gunshot wound on a man was difficult, but this . . . this was unconscionable.

Hauling Edgar out of bed was not something that was about to make Ransom popular. Pounding on the sheriff’s door got three dogs barking and the lights on in the house next to the sheriff’s.

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Keep yer hat on.” Edgar swung open the door with a growl. “Just got to bed, so this better be important. Ransom, what brings you to town at this time of night?”

“We have a candidate for your jail over at Doc’s. Beckwith and his cronies came calling tonight, shooting up the cabin and wounding Miss Lockwood. Burnt up their wagon. We got Jud but not Beckwith. Hurt him but not bad enough.”

“Oh, for . . .” Edgar shut the door and called, “I’ll be right there.” He opened the door again. “You go on back and make sure he doesn’t crawl away from there. Low-down, good-for-nothing varmint.”

Ransom made his way back through the cold heavy darkness to Doc Barnett’s house, setting more dogs to barking. He wanted to shout, “Shut up!” but knew it would only make things worse. Right about now, he was close to not caring whom he offended. Had Edgar been on the ball, this might not have happened. They’d warned the sheriff there was trouble afoot. Apparently Edgar had done nothing about it.

Ransom stomped back up on the porch and opened the door. Glaring at the bundle on the floor who was still muttering, he crossed to the room where Cassie now lay on the examining table with a blanket tucked around her and Lucas holding her hand. The doctor was threading a needle with what looked like a very fine guitar string.

“How bad is it?” Ransom asked. Here he was, wanting to light into the sheriff, and he himself had not taken the threats too seriously either. He should have known better. They could tell Cassie had been on edge over the threats, and basically they had made light of her fears. And now she was lying on Doc’s table, the lamplight showing her pale skin and closed eyes. Shot in the arm. Her wagon, the last link with her life in the Wild West Show, burned to the frame. Terrorized by a night attack.

They were guests on his ranch and, according to his mother, closer than friends. And he had let them down. She—they—could have been killed. Were it not for the dogs barking, things could have been so much worse. As his mor would say, the barking dogs were indeed something to be thankful for. But being thankful took some real doing, for he was in a mood ready to kill.

Barnett looked up from his examination. “I’m going to knock her out a bit. This is going to hurt.”

“How bad is it?” Ransom repeated.

“Looks like it ripped through clean, like you said. In and out, exit wound, so no slug still in her. I’ll disinfect it good. It didn’t hit bone, which is a miracle, so tiny her arm is. She should be right as rain in a few weeks.”

Lucas looked up at him. “Mor is going to have our hides.”

“We should have known better.”

The doctor snorted. “Would you two quit yammering and tell me what really happened?”

“Our dog was barking fit to raise the dead, so we went out to see what was going on. Couldn’t see anything. Then Cassie’s dog started barking, and we heard yelling and gunfire, so we saddled up and charged up the hill.” Ransom raked his fingers through his hair.

“You know that cabin is about a quarter of a mile from the ranch house. The raiders didn’t come through the home yard. They rode out around the fence line and sneaked up on the cabin that way. But Othello, her dog, roused the house and wagon, and when the shooting began, Miss Lockwood and the others shot back. By the time we got up there, the lowlifes were hightailing it out of there. Left behind that pile of garbage out there on the floor.

“The wagon was parked right next to the cabin and somehow caught on fire. I don’t know if they threw a brand in or what. Come to think on it, Micah or Chief mentioned a battered kerosene lamp. We pulled the wagon away from the cabin before it could catch too. Wagon’s pretty much destroyed, but the cabin is okay. We found Cassie slumped against the corner of the cabin. No idea who hit her. When we heard the firing we opened fire too. Found Jud on the ground about a hundred yards from the cabin, moaning and bleeding. Loaded them both up, stopped to let our mother know what had happened, and brought them in here. That’s about all I can tell you.”
Other than that we let her down. We all did.

“Well, if that ain’t the strangest story. I know I’d heard the rumors too, but you know Argus, rife with rumors. Guess we took ’em too much for granted. You sure it was Beckwith and his cronies?”

“You ever see Jud in there hanging out with anyone else?”

“No, can’t say as I have.” He nodded to his wife, who laid a packet of sterile bandages on Cassie’s chest. “Let’s wrap this up. She’ll start to come around any minute.”

Cassie moaned as he tied the final knot in the bandage.

“Lucas, you carry her into the other room, and the missus will take over then. I want to keep her here for the rest of the night, at least, see how she does. The real danger is if infection sets in.”

“You want help?” Ransom asked.

“No, thanks.” Lucas sounded just plain smug. “I can manage.”

He slid his arms under her knees and shoulders and lifted her gently. Mrs. Barnett led the way as they left the room. Ransom watched them go. Surely that look on Lucas’s face was more than just concern for a neighbor. And here he’d thought—hoped—Lucas would lose interest like he usually did. Life would never be the same again. That was for sure.

The doctor cleaned off the table that Cassie had vacated. “Can you bring him in here by yourself, or do you need a hand?”

“I can drag him real easy.”

“Now, Ransom, whatever happened to ‘Love your enemies’?”

Ransom started to jump down the doctor’s throat when he caught the glint of amusement in the man’s eyes. He was teasing. Good thing he’d not lashed back like he wanted. “You might have to help get him up on the table.”

“A jab with a hot poker might work.”

Feeling a mite lighter, Ransom stopped beside the man on the floor. “You know, Jud, you’re not such a bad one until you let Beckwith get you in trouble. What is your wife going to say to this?” He leaned over and started to hoist the man up, but the fumes from the booze Jud had consumed stopped him. “Uff da. Saturated your worthless hide. Don’t know how your missus can stand to have you around.”

“Let me help you,” Sheriff McDougal said as he stepped through the front door. Together they got the man up and supported him, stumbling, toward the examination room. A yelp accompanied a string of curses, but he kept his feet moving.

“Might be easier to treat if you put him in that chair. Looks like the bullet gave him a new part in his hair.”

The man slumped to the side, still muttering.

The sheriff pulled him upright. “Who else was with you?”

“Let me at him first, then you can start.” Doc Barnett swabbed the four-inch groove about halfway up the man’s head, wiping the dried blood away and causing new to well. “I’m going to have to stitch this too. Hand me that tray from over there.” He pointed to an enamel tray on the shelf.

Ransom did as asked.

“You two are going to have to help me. Hold him steady.”

With the wound cleaned, the doctor laid in a row of stitches, ignoring the muttering punctuated by a yelp now and then. With the bleeding stopped, he took a pan of water and cleaned the blood from the man’s neck and ear. “I can care for him here, or you can let him sleep it off in a cell. I take it you won’t be releasing him immediately.”

“Not by a long shot. I’ll notify his wife. Poor woman probably will be glad she doesn’t have to clean him up. We’ll get to the bottom of this. With a wounded victim, it won’t be just to sleep it off in jail and go home in the morning. The judge will have his say, for sure.”

“You going to arrest Beckwith?”

“I can’t. No proof unless someone says he was out there. So far all you told me is hearsay.”

“I’m sure I could convince Jud to tell us the truth.” The doctor rubbed his hands together.

“Yes, well that’s vigilante law, and you know I don’t hold with that.” Edgar looked to Ransom. “And son, I know you don’t either.”

Maybe not usually, but the attack hasn’t been on my land before.
Nor were people I know and am concerned about wounded before.
Ransom narrowed his eyes. “There better be justice in this—and soon.”

“You just do your job, and I’ll do mine. Help me drag him back to the jail.”

“Just a minute.” Ransom went to find Lucas. His little brother was sitting on one side of the bed Miss Lockwood lay sleeping in, and Mrs. Barnett sat on the other.

Lucas announced, “Once we’re married, she’ll be out of harm’s way.” The matter-of-fact tone of his voice startled Ransom.

“Don’t go jumping ahead of things. Like Mor says, one day at a time. I’m helping Edgar get Jud over to the jail, and then we’ll head on home.”

“I could stay here.”

Mrs. Barnett sniffed. “I don’t think that’s proper, you keeping watch in a young lady’s bedroom. I’ll be here. You go on home. You can come back in the morning to check on her.”

“But—”

“Don’t go giving me no
but
s, young man. You go help Ransom and the sheriff. You’ve done all you can around here.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “She’s safe here.”

“We thought she was safe in the cabin too, and look what happened.”

Mrs. Barnett stood and planted both fists firmly on her ample hips. “Now, Lucas Engstrom, I’ve known you since you was no bigger’n a leapfrog. When I say git, you git.”

Ransom heard the exchange and swallowed a grin. Mrs. Barnett was not one to fool with. She’d been known to stop a pack of twelve-year-old boys in their tracks when they were snitching apples from her tree. Not that he knew anything about that, of course. He grabbed Jud by one arm, the sheriff took the other, and Lucas held the door open. If Jud tried to walk at all, it was a useless effort as they dragged him down the steps and the two blocks to the sheriff’s office, where Lucas took the sheriff’s place and Edgar swung open the cell door.