Medicine Wheel (2 page)

"That's kind of scary," Clarissa said, her eyes wide.

"There's not that much difference between animals and people. Except animals don't talk back and seem to appreciate more what you do for them. Well, not always. I've been stomped by an ungrateful bull or cow a few times."

The kids laughed, and after that, conversation loosened up. Thad received a good quizzing about his animal—and people—adventures while Quincy glowered in silence, although he forgot himself a time or two and betrayed some interest in what Thad had to say.

After putting away double helpings of Rachael’s apple cobbler, Thad tendered thanks to his hosts and received a solemn nod from Quincy and broad smiles from the girls who had been given afternoon work assignments by their father. Rachael took his arm and led him out onto the porch and strolled with him to fetch Cato.

"It was so nice to have you join us, Thad. The girls thoroughly enjoyed your stories. Elizabeth says she wants to study to be a veterinary surgeon when she finishes high school."

"There's no shortage of work for a vet, but she’d better not be dreaming of great riches. I wouldn't change the life for anything, though."

Her expression turned serious as she watched him saddle Cato. “I was embarrassed about Quincy's blessing, Thad. It was rude. I'm sorry."

"There's no better man. I guess he was just trying to save my soul." Thad grinned and took her hand. "I may be a lost cause, though. I regret that he barely tolerates me.”

"He respects you, Thad. He truly admires your skills, and you wouldn't believe how much pride he takes in the surgical instruments he fashions for you."

"There's a profit to be made in developing and producing top quality veterinary instruments. I have some ideas I'd like to discuss with him if we can carve out a bit more comfort between us."

"Just be patient with him. I'll broach the subject with him."

He decided to take a chance and abruptly shifted topics. "How’s Serena?"

Rachael appeared neither surprised nor unnerved by the question, but Thad could tell she had already rehearsed a reply in her mind. "She's doing well, Thad. Very well." She offered a sad smile, and her eyes moistened a bit. "I'm sorry. You know I can't say more.”

3

A
FTER
LEAVING
THE
Belmont place, Thad headed back to the Lazy L, the half section owned by him and the Manhattan Bank. The small ranch property lay about four miles—as the crow flies—southeast of the Belmont farm, and Thad ran a cow herd of about twenty-five Herefords there—not near enough to make a living, but they helped assuage his addiction to the cattle business. The grass would have carried two or three times as many cow-calf pairs, but he didn’t have the cash or credit to fully stock the place yet.

He had built a four-room limestone house with a little windowless lean-to for an emulsion room—to facilitate a serious photography habit—on high ground. He had set aside one room with a separate entrance for storage of his veterinary instruments and supplies and had installed a crude oak table for treatment of the occasional small animals that were brought in for care. Unfortunately for his business, very few folks in the Flint Hills would spend a half dollar to fix a dog or a cat's broken leg or to patch up one of the creatures who had got the worst end of a fight with a bobcat. A bullet was more likely the poor animal’s sentence.

Cato knew the way home, and Thad gave him his lead, although he thought about turning down the trail toward the Big Blue River Valley and making the climb to the medicine wheel. He had not been over that way for almost a year now, and it was probably just as well, since it usually sent him brooding about Serena. It had been eleven years now, and their story, he thought, was like a novel chopped off in the middle of a chapter. Maybe it was the unfinished part of it that haunted him so much and kept him from moving on.

He wondered what had become of her and why the family was so secretive about Serena’s whereabouts and what she was doing. Of course, his only contacts with the Belmonts were professional ones that did not lend themselves well to casual inquiries. Would he ever see Serena again? He concluded that it was unlikely, and, perhaps, for the best.

Summer 1874

4

T
HADDEUS
J
ACOB
L
OCKE
, a sandy-haired, rangy six-footer, sat tall in the saddle astride his three-year-old Appaloosa gelding at the top of a scalped ridge overlooking the Big Blue River Valley. It was the first day of June, his mother’s birth date. He knew that because Aunt Nancy, his mother's sister, had reminded him at breakfast. It saddened him just a bit, but he was not deeply troubled, because he had never known his mother, Deborah Locke, who had died giving birth to him and his sister, Hannah, 19 years ago, come July 4.

The Appaloosa, Cato, whinnied and danced restlessly. The horse was generally a calm beast just short of docile and had been given to Thad by his older brother, Cameron Locke, who ran the only Appaloosa herd in the Flint Hills. Cato had been gifted to the young man because of the horse's gentleness, since Cam Locke, a former Confederate cavalry officer, had long since given up on honing Thad into a first class rider.

Thad's eyes were fastened on puffs of dust a quarter of a mile north tracking a deer path that threaded its way along the steep, rocky slopes below. At first, he assumed the creature stirring up the powdered lime was a doe fleeing some real or imagined threat, but then he decided the form was human. He reached into his saddle bags and pulled out the old seaman's telescope the Judge had given him and twisted it into focus.

The creature was indeed human. Moving swiftly and gracefully over the trail as though swept by the wind, a young woman raced along the path. She was scantily dressed in what appeared to be a short buckskin kilt and a sleeveless shirt, and her black hair was tied back with a yellow ribbon in what he’d heard some ladies call a pony tail. She ran with determination and seeming intensity, as though she was in a rush to get somewhere before a deadline.
 

She had engaged his curiosity, and he followed her with the telescope as she angled downhill toward the Big Blue River Valley. Suddenly, she stumbled and catapulted forward, landing face first in the trail rut. She was deathly still for a moment before she tried to lift herself up and then collapsed again.

Thad dismounted and began leading the gelding down the treacherous shale footing of the slope, keeping his eye on the fallen runner as they inched their way toward her. She was sitting upright now, he noted, clutching her shin or ankle. As he approached, he yelled, “You okay, ma’am?”

She looked up but did not reply.

He released Cato, confident the Appaloosa would not stray and approached the young woman, stopping when he saw the wary look in her dark, defiant eyes. He was momentarily speechless as he got a closer look at the runner. Her face was smudged with dirt and her nose was skinned and dripping blood—and she was the most incredibly beautiful female he had ever encountered. She had flawless, bronze-toned skin and thick black lashes framing coffee-brown eyes, and her form was lithe and slender, almost boyish, but not quite. He couldn’t tell for certain, but he guessed she wouldn’t stand more than a few inches over five feet.

“You’re staring at me,” she said.

His face flushed. “Not my intent, ma’am. Can I help?”

She probed her ankle gingerly. “Who are you?”

“Thad Locke, ma’am.”

“The lawyer family?”

“Yes, ma’am. My father and my brother practice law in Manhattan.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I live a few miles south of here . . . with my aunt and uncle. It’s a complicated story. I was riding out this way and was up on the ridge when I saw you take a tumble. Thought I should come down and check. Can you get up?”

She started to rise but then winced and sat back down. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. He didn’t know what to say. She seemed a bit contrary, but she was obviously hurting more than she was letting on. He decided to disregard her testiness. He gave a low whistle toward Cato, and the horse abandoned his grazing and trotted back.

He plucked a canteen from his saddle horn and dug in his saddle bags, pulling out a few clean, well-worn white shirts and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He returned to the young woman’s side, knelt down beside her, and began ripping the shirts into strips. “What’s your name?” he asked.

She hesitated, watching him with curiosity. “Serena. Serena Belmont,” she replied softly.

“Kin to the Preacher Belmont?”

“His daughter. Do you know him?”

“Heard of him. Never met him. Lay your head back and press this against the nostril. Bleeding’s already slowing.” He handed her a piece of cloth, moistened another rag, and began wiping the blood and dust from her face, his fingers moving gently and deftly over the scraped nose. He applied some alcohol to the scrapes. She flinched, he noted, but didn’t complain.
 

“Please don’t tell me you’re a doctor. You can’t be much older than I am.”

“I’ll be nineteen in a month. But I’m as close to a doctor as you’ll find within ten miles from here. I’ve been helping folks around here with their cows and pigs and cats and dogs since I was a kid.”

“Some might say you’re still a kid . . . of course, you’re two years older than I am. By the way, I’m not an animal.”

“I noticed.” He turned away. “Now, let me take a look at that leg.”

He took the muscled calf of her slender right leg in his hands, and his fingers probed and traced over the shinbone.

“Now just a minute, mister,” she protested.

He ignored her objections and squeezed her ankle.

“Hurt?”

She grimaced. “Yes, it hurts.”

“Grit your teeth. It’s going to hurt some more. Try to wiggle your ankle . . . slowly.”

She winced and tears came to her eyes. “I can’t move it any more. It feels like it’s locked in place.”

Thad slipped the moccasin off Serena’s foot and ran his fingers over the top and under, pressing the soft flesh firmly. “No pain in the foot is there?”

“No, not much.”

He turned his attention back to the ankle. “I don’t feel a break, but it could be a ‘green stick.’ I doubt it, though. More likely a nasty sprain. I’ll wrap it for support and get you home to your folks, and they can decide if you need to see a sawbones.”

“What’s a green stick?”

“It’s a break in the bone where the two ends haven’t moved out of place . . . sort of a clean break, where the bone isn’t pressing against the skin or punched through it.”

“You’re scaring me. I can’t have a broken ankle.”

“Well, you can, but I’ll bet you don’t.” He took a long strip of cloth, centered it on the bottom of the foot, pulled the ends behind her ankle, and wrapped them around the leg before crossing the ends and looping them through the starting lengths. He pulled tight and tied. “This will give you some support, but you’ll need to keep your weight off the foot for a week or more. Now we’ve got to get you home. I’d say your place is about three miles as the crow flies. I know you can run. How do you do on a horse?”

"I can ride well enough. But we only have one horse.”

”Then we’ll have to share.”

Thad gave two sharp whistles, and the Appaloosa moved in close. He reached down and grasped Serena's hand firmly. "Okay, now you need to pull yourself up and see if you can put some weight on the foot.”
 

He helped her up, and she pressed her foot to the rocky pathway. Her sharp gasp betrayed her pain. Abruptly, he lifted her into his arms and swept her mid-shriek her onto the horse's saddle. He grabbed the saddle horn and, putting his booted foot into the stirrup, lifted himself less gracefully onto the horse's rump and settled in behind her, arms wrapped gently around her slender waist.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked, clutching his wrist in an effort to push him away.

"I can't ride free-handed, ma'am, and I'm not so noble that I am going to lead this horse all the way back to your place. There's no way you're going to walk that far, so you can either take the reins and I'll hold on to you or you can hang onto the saddle horn, and I can lean forward and handle the reins. Either way, we’re going to be in close company for a spell.” The choices were no loss options from his standpoint. He did not find the nearness of this dark beauty the least unpleasant.

She looked over her shoulder, her dark eyes, less suspicious and hostile now, fastening on his. "I'll handle the reins."

5

T
HE
MID
-
AFTERNOON
sun had suddenly turned blistering, and the terrain had become rugged as they climbed the shale slope. Notwithstanding his previous vow to ride, Thad had dismounted and was walking beside the horse and solitary rider. He caught sight of a small cluster of young cottonwoods a hundred yards or so to the northwest. He broke the uneasy silence that hovered over him and his traveling companion. Pointing in the direction of the trees, he said, ”I could use a spot of shade and a break. That’s not far out of our way. Likely a spring or stream there.”
 

 
Serena nodded her approval and nudged Cato toward the cottonwoods. As Thad had predicted, the trees were near a stream that meandered and snaked its way over the limestone creek bed and through the Flint Hills on its journey to the Big Blue. "At the pace we’re moving, I'd guess we have an hour or a bit less to your folks’ place. Let me help you down and we can unwrap your ankle and you can soak it in the cold water. It’s starting to swell, and that should help some.”

This time she cooperated without protest and leaned from the saddle, resting her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her by the waist and eased her to the earth. He placed her down next to the stream under the shade of a cottonwood branch and then unwrapped the ankle. "It'll be worse tomorrow," he observed, "but if you keep soaking it in cold water and step very carefully for a week or so, you'll be fine."

She slipped her foot into the water and after a few moments gave a sigh of relief. "Maybe you do know what you're talking about."