Margaret Brownley (16 page)

“Not now,” Lucy called back. She snapped the reins and drove away as fast as she could go, leaving Monica in the middle of the road, staring after her.

Twelve

Thank goodness we no longer must clamp heads in a vise in order to
capture an image. Modern technology, however, does not give one
license to argue, fight, or otherwise cause a disruption during a
photographing session (or any other time for that matter).

—M
ISS
G
ERTRUDE
H
ASSLEBRINK, 1878

W
here was Caleb?

Lucy paced back and forth in front of the church. The coast was clear, at least for now. Fortunately, the sanctuary was empty and there was no sign of Reverend Wells.

So where was her brother? It had been more than two hours since she last saw Caleb and he still hadn’t arrived. What was taking so long?

David Wolf lay in the back of the wagon. She had sponged him off with cool water collected from the creek, but he still burned with fever. To make matters worse, the breeze had died down. She’d parked beneath an oak tree, but even though summer was still a couple of weeks away, it was hot in the shade. Hot and sticky.

She had done her best to make Wolf comfortable, but without Caleb’s help she had no way of moving him inside.

At last she spotted her father’s store wagon in the distance, plodding toward the church. Apparently Moses was giving Caleb trouble again. She greeted her brother with a wave of the hand. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“I had to make two deliveries,” Caleb explained. He set the brake and jumped to the ground. “And Moses here decided that two deliveries was his limit.” He gave the mule’s short, thick neck an affectionate pat. Moses gave a slight whinny that ended in a
hee-haw
.

Caleb inclined his head toward Wolf. “How’s he doing?”

“Not too good.” Lucy sighed. She hated putting Caleb in such a difficult position. “He’s in and out of consciousness.”

Caleb studied Wolf for a moment. “He doesn’t look . . . wild.”

“That’s because he’s not. Oh, Caleb, I’ve made such a mess of things. If it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have been arrested or shot. I don’t think I could live with myself if he—” She covered her mouth with her hand.

Caleb patted her back. “Come on, we need to get him inside.”

Together, they struggled to lift Wolf out of the wagon.

Wolf was tall and solidly built. It would have been easier to carry the mule. He winced the moment the foot of his wounded leg touched the ground. His body folded, and it was only by Caleb’s quick action that he didn’t altogether fall.

“I have an idea,” Caleb said, straining against Wolf’s weight. “Spread a blanket on the ground.”

Lucy reached into the store’s wagon and quickly pulled out one of the blankets Caleb stowed there. Shaking it, she let it billow to the ground and smoothed out the edges.

With a great deal of difficulty, Caleb half carried, half dragged Wolf onto the blanket. Lucy lifted the foot of his good leg and then ever so gently moved the injured one.

Wolf grimaced, his face damp with fever.

Clutching the edge of the blanket with both hands, Caleb pulled Wolf up the path. It took both of them to heave him up the two steps and into the church.

The anteroom was located to the right of the altar. Used only for storage, it smelled dusty. School supplies and extra hymnal books were stacked on floor-to-ceiling shelves. A broom and mop stood in a corner. There were no windows but the exterior siding was warped, allowing daylight to pour through the slotted boards, providing a welcome glow to the otherwise drab room.

Though it was late May, the nights were still cool. The cracks would be less of an asset after dark, but Lucy decided to handle that problem when the time came.

After sweeping out the room, Lucy made a bed for Wolf in a corner with the pillows and blankets Caleb had brought with him.

Once they got Wolf settled, Caleb kneeled beside him. “We’re going to have to take off his pants.”

“I’ll . . . I’ll wait outside.”

Caleb looked up. “Oh, no you don’t. I need your help.”

“Oh.” Lucy covered her mouth with her hand. Having helped raise Caleb since he was an infant, she was no stranger to the male anatomy. But this . . . this was different.

“Come on. Don’t be a prude,” Caleb said in that teasing way of his.

She snapped her head back. “I’m not a prude.”

“I’ll lift him up and you pull his trousers down.”

She took a deep breath to brace herself. “All right.” She could do this. She could.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

She wouldn’t look, she wouldn’t look. Oh, dear God, she looked.

Face blazing, she averted her eyes and pulled his buckskin pants all the way down and tossed them aside.

“Did you know that a man’s—”

“I don’t want to know,” she snapped.

Caleb laughed and she glared at him.

Much to her relief, Caleb covered Wolf with a blanket, leaving only his injured leg exposed. The thigh was swollen, the skin an alarming red.

“It looks awful,” she said.

Caleb sniffed. “It’s infected all right, but there’s no almond smell, so it’s not gangrenous. At least not yet.”

“That’s good,” she said anxiously. “Isn’t it?”

Caleb drew back. “I better fetch Doc Myers.”

Wolf’s eyes flew open. “No!” His body thrashed around, moving from side to side. It was all Lucy and Caleb could do to hold him in place.

“Don’t . . . want Doc . . . Myers. No!”

“Stay still,” Lucy cried. She pressed down on Wolf’s one good leg in an effort to keep it from injuring the other.

“No doctor!”

She exchanged a worried glance with her brother. “All right,” she said. It wasn’t the first promise she had made to Wolf, but it was by far the one she most regretted.

A muscle tightened at Caleb’s jaw, his young face white with disapproval.

Wolf relaxed as if the last bit of his energy had drained away, and his lids fluttered downward.

“He needs a doctor,” Caleb mouthed.

Lucy bit down on her lower lip and tried to think what to do. “Can’t . . . can’t you take care of him?”

“I’m not a doctor,” Caleb whispered, sounding as scared as she felt. “I’m just learning anatomy. I don’t know how to take care of an infected bullet wound.”

“This can’t be any worse than Moses’s leg,” she argued in a low voice. “You saved that mule’s life.”

Caleb shook his head. “I’m not a doctor, Lucy. And if Papa has his way, I never will be.”

Sighing, she dampened a cloth with water from Caleb’s canteen and dabbed Wolf’s forehead. “He’s still burning up.”

“I brought laudanum,” he said. He uncapped a bottle of Stickley and Poors Paregoric Elixir and carefully measured out one teaspoonful.

“That will help with the pain and should lower the fever,” he explained. Despite his protests he was already beginning to sound like a doctor.

She waited for Caleb to finish forcing the liquid down Wolf’s throat, then motioned for him to follow her into the sanctuary. Closing the door behind her, she took Caleb by the arm and led him away so Wolf couldn’t hear them talk.

“Go fetch Doc Myers.” The softness of her voice did not hide the urgency.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he said, sounding relieved.

“I know.” She hated breaking a promise, but Wolf was half out of his mind with delirium. He couldn’t know what he was saying, or how seriously ill he was.

“You better not be here when Doc Myers arrives,” Caleb said.

“I’m not leaving him alone,” she said.

Caleb’s worried expression made him look years older. “Everyone thinks he’s a wild man.”

“Does he look like one to you?”

“Not at all, but it still won’t help your reputation if you’re found here alone with a man.”

Dear, sweet boy. She’d always taken care of Caleb and suddenly the tables were turned, and he now looked out for her. “I think my reputation is already beyond repair.”

The smile she hoped for failed to materialize. “Go,” she said, waving him away with both hands.

He strode down the aisle of the church and paused at the door. He looked back at her, a glint in his eye. “Did you know that a baby has more bones than an adult?” he called back.

“Go!”

As soon as Caleb left, Lucy rushed back to Wolf’s side. Dropping to her knees, she laid her hand on his forehead, his flesh hot and clammy to her touch. She sprinkled water from a canteen onto a cloth and dabbed his fevered brow and neck. She then sat back to wait.
God, please, please don’t let him die
.

She formed a square with her forefingers and thumbs and studied Wolf’s handsome face through the make-believe lens. The focusing device wasn’t as good as her camera but it still helped her see things she might not otherwise have noticed, like the unmistakable shadow of a beard.

The whiskers gave her pause. Maybe he wasn’t part Indian as she had originally supposed.

His skin was unnaturally flushed but surprisingly smooth, except for the lines at his temples and either side of his mouth. Trying not to dwell on the memory of that mouth on hers, she clasped her hands together in waiting silence.

He suddenly cried out. The long harrowing sound sent chills down her spine. He thrashed around so violently she feared he would reinjure his leg. “Let me go!”

It took all her strength to keep him from banging against the wall. “It’s all right,” she said soothingly, her hand on his forehead.

His body stilled and he fell silent. Satisfied that the crisis was over, she sat back but was still shaken. What would make a man cry out like that? Was it the fever? Or something else?

The sun dipped behind the trees, casting the room in dim shadows. The last strains of daylight inching through the warped boards grew dimmer by the minute, and already she could feel a draft.

She lit a kerosene lamp and stacked hymnals in front of some of the larger cracks to block out the cool air.

Wolf muttered softly.

“What? What did you say?” She leaned over him in an effort to make sense of his rambling words and her heart sank. He was delirious.

She drew back and he fell silent.

Close to an hour later, Caleb returned. He opened the door to the anteroom a crack. The yellow light from the lamp emphasized his worried look. He motioned to her from the doorway.

Rushing from the room, she whispered, “Where’s the doctor?”

“His housekeeper said he was out on a call and won’t be back till day after tomorrow.”

“Oh no.” She closed the door to the anteroom behind her so they could talk without disturbing Wolf. “What are we going to do?”

“I just thought of something,” he said, his voice sounding hopeful. “Maybe I can ask Slim Parker to have a look. He helped me with Moses’s leg.”

Slim Parker’s real name was Running Cloud. A former Apache medicine man, he was what Lucy’s father called one of the shadow people. There were several of them living on the outer fringes of Rocky Creek. Some were wartime deserters. One was a former slave who still refused to believe he was free. Slim was the only one not running from his past. It was his future he couldn’t face, and the thought of having to live on an Indian reservation far away from the only home he ever knew.

She nodded. “Go. And hurry!”

It was late by the time he returned with Slim. Wolf’s leg looked almost purple in the dim yellow light of the kerosene lantern.

Slim leaned over the leg, examining it closely. He was a tall, lean man with high cheekbones and skin the color of tanned hide. Though he was dressed in canvas pants and a white broadcloth shirt, he still wore his hair in braids, as was the custom of his people.

He stood. “No save.” He turned.

“No, no, wait.” Lucy practically dived in front of the door to keep him from leaving. “There must be something you can do.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Caleb. “I told you five. No more.”

She searched her brother’s face. “What is he talking about? Five?”

Caleb quickly explained. “As a medicine man he lost five patients. If he loses a sixth he must be put to death. That’s the law of his people. He agreed to help only if Wolf was in no danger of dying.”

“He’s not going to die,” she insisted. “He’s not!” She beseeched the tall Indian, pressing her fingers hard against his arm. “Please, you must help him.”

“No help!”

“But you’re not with your tribe. No one would ever know.”

“
I
know.” For emphasis, he pounded his chest with his fist. “No help.” With that, he pushed her aside and practically ripped the door from its hinges.

She ran through the dark church after him, but it was no use. By the time she reached the double front doors, she was greeted by the sound of flying hooves. She stood perfectly still, trying to think what to do.