John turns to leave and standing in the doorway, is Sean.
“Sean!” John exclaims. “What are you doing out of bed?”
Weakly, Sean raises the pistol John gave him in his shaking hand to point it toward the pair of marshals.
John and Joey both move opposite directions, avoiding the potential path of the bullet.
Slowly, with shaking movements, he turns the gun sideways, pointed at the ceiling, allowing both marshals to see the gun in profile. “Ye're gonna teach me how ta use t’his.”
Joey shakes her head. “No. You’re going back to bed. You’re still hurt very badly.”
Sean shakes his head emphatically. “Not so bad I cannae stand an’ kill t’hat animal, Richard.” He leans into the door jam. “I couldnae kill him before. I wasnae good ‘nough.”
Slowly, John creeps closer to his young friend. “Sean, think about this. You can’t even stand up straight. Come on, give me the gun.”
Sean shakes his head. “Ye’re gonna teach me how ta use t’his.” He waves the gun a bit in emphasis.
“It’s too dark outside right now. Come on, it can wait until later,” Joey says soothingly.
The look he directs toward her is filled with daggers. “Either ya teach ma, or I come for’ward abou’ who ya really are, MARSHAL.”
Joey voice is sharp as she says, “I know you don’t mean that. Now, put the gun down, before someone gets hurt.”
Sean almost snarls. “Try me.”
John can see he’s close enough to make a grab for the revolver, but would rather not. He looks over his shoulder at Joey. The beautiful young woman looks poised to shoot Sean at the drop of a hat.
John holds up one hand placatingly. “Sean. I’ll tell you what. Give me the gun and sometime in the next couple of weeks, when David clears you, I’ll take you out shooting. I promise.”
“T’isnae good ‘nough. In weeks, Richard could a’ready be dead. I wanna be tha last t’hing he sees b’fore tha devil takes him ta hell.”
John looks at Joey. Her entire body is a coiled spring. He looks at Sean and notices the young man is white as a sheet and is sweating profusely. This has to end now.
John quickly grabs the gun from Sean’s shaking hand and, without looking, tosses it to Joey.
She smartly catches it in mid-air and quickly unloads it.
John reaches over and stabilizes the injured young man, keeping him upright as he passes back out. “Can you help me get him back to bed? David’s gonna want to check him over.”
Joey nods and puts the bullets along with the gun on Brigit’s nightstand. She moves quickly to help John guide the heavy young man back to his own bed.
As soon as Sean is in bed, she looks at John. “Do you think he meant what he was saying about telling my secret?”
John nods and holds up his hand, forestalling any other replies. “He meant it when he said it, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. You know what’s wrong with him, right?”
She nods. “Do you want to get David, or should I?”
“You go ahead. My old bones don’t move as fast as they used to.”
She smiles. “Between you and Pa, I’m not sure which one’s gonna outlive us all.” She turns and leaves.
John looks at the sweating young man a moment and shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re stubborn as a mule, you know that, boy?” He sighs and seats himself in the chair closest to the bed.
John is surprised to see Sean tossing and turning, all the while moaning. This continues until Joey shows up with David and Rebekah close behind her.
The young doctor takes one look at his patient, sighs, then goes to a bottle sitting on the dresser. Quickly, he pours a little of the liquid onto a handkerchief and then presses it over Sean’s nose and mouth for a few seconds, before the young man’s struggling stops.
David looks over at John and says, “Ether. I’m running out of laudanum and there’s not an apothecary anywhere nearby that has any.”
John nods, stands and moves closer to the door to get away from the fumes. The smell of Ether has always given him a ripping headache.
He watches as David undoes the bandage binding Sean’s side and sees the wound seeping blood.
David mutters under his breath. John can’t tell what he’s saying, but it sounds a lot like, “Ripped his stitches. Foolish boy.”
Quickly, David reaches into his medical bag, pulls out a needle and some thread. He makes short work of repairing the torn bindings of the wound, then turns and looks at John and Joey. “Well, it looks like the first stitches I put in were too close to the hole. This should hold better.”
John breathes a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t something they did that caused the damage. He looks at Joey and sighs. “So, that’s about enough excitement for today. I think it high time all of us get some much-needed sleep.”
David nods, motioning toward his wife. “Bekah and I were headed to bed before the marshal got us. We’re on our way there now.” They leave the room quickly.
Joey looks at John and asks, “Are you actually planning on teaching him how to shoot?”
John cocks an eyebrow. “How do you expect him to handle a gun safely? It’s obvious he’s not gonna give up on his hatred.”
She sighs. “I was afraid you were gonna say that. Do you think there’s any hope for him getting rid of this darkness?”
John shakes his head. “We can only pray he does.” He motions toward Brigit’s room. “I think she’ll have her hands full for awhile, no matter what. You already know this, but she’s gonna need all our help in the days to come.”
Joey’s eyes narrow. “You can feel it too. Can’t you?”
“The road stretching out before us? Oh, yes. Absolutely.”
She sighs, nods and seats herself by Sean, looking so much like a herd guard watching her flocks.
John quietly leaves the room, feeling tired and old in his bones.
Chapter 20
Jake looks at Joey standing in front of the counter, waiting on the telegrapher to complete their request.
Joey turns and gives Jake a winsome smile. He’s amazed that, even after everything that’s happened recently, she still has the ability to smile.
When she asked him to come along, at first he thought he was in trouble. Now, he’s pretty sure it’s an attempt to give him some time away from all the goings-on.
The telegrapher says, “Message received. That will be one bit.”
Joey flashes her badge and the man sighs. “Alright, Marshal. Was there anything else?”
She shakes her head, “No, thank you.”
As she turns to leave, the telegrapher stands and says to Jake, “You Deputy Isaacson?”
Jake turns, crosses his arms, then nods.
“I have a message for you. Just a moment.” He reaches under the counter to a small box with several telegraphs in it. He flips through it for a moment, then exclaims when he finds the sought-after piece of paper. He hands the telegram to Jake and nods in satisfaction.
As the pair leave the telegraph office, Jake looks down at the small piece of paper in his hands for a moment, not realizing what it is. Finally he reads it. Davison killed by R Buchanan. Stop. Bring him in dead or alive at all costs. Stop. Walters. Stop.
Jake stares open-mouthed at the telegram for a full minute before Joey asks, “What is it?”
Wordlessly, he hands the telegram over. She looks at it briefly, then nods. She looks at Jake with a wild look. “That’s Marshal Davison, right?”
He nods. His mouth suddenly going dry, he tries to swallow. “He was an old friend of your pa’s and mine at Fort Reno. He’s the one who talked Walters and I into working as Marshals.”
She nods. “I didn’t really know him. But, now we have our marching orders.”
Jake nods at her and mounts Ranger. “Think Lyttle is gonna find him?”
She shakes her head. “I get the feeling it’ll be up to us. Between you and I, I don’t have very much confidence
in Lyttle. He seems to be more a politician than a lawman.”
Jake shakes his head. “I don’t know him well enough. Sounds like I may not want to either.”
She smirks and dismisses the comment with a wave of her hand.
JOHN IS STANDING IN Sean’s room, speaking quietly with David, when the young man wakes up.
David looks over at the young Irishman and, seeing his eyes open, motions John to direct his attention to the young man.
John steps over to Sean’s bed. “Hi. Are you hungry? Need to relieve yourself?”
Sean shakes his head and tries to sit up. David rushes over. “You don’t wanna bust your stitches like you did yesterday. Be careful, Sean. Come on, let me help.” After a few moments of struggling, Sean sits against the head of his bed, sweating and trembling.
John reaches over to the pitcher of water on the dresser, pours some into a glass and hands it to his young friend.
David leaves the room, returning shortly with a fresh towel and his doctor’s bag. “Alright, Sean. I need to check your wound. It’s gonna hurt quite a bit, but I expect you’ll be fine.”
The young man finishes the glass of water and nods. As David undoes the bandage binding Sean’s side, the young man grunts and groans in pain.
As David pulls the bandage off, John is impressed by the young doctor’s handiwork. The hole, while from a .45, is barely noticeable, except for several stitches holding it closed. The skin around the wound looks white, almost like the underbelly of a fish.
David looks at the skin and nods. “Looks like we need to let this dry out just a little bit.”
At the sound of a knock on Sean’s door, John opens it to see Brigit carrying a tray with a pitcher of water, a large bowl with a thin stew and a small amount of bread.
John takes the tray and allows the young woman to come in to the room. She steps up to the bed and lovingly caresses the young Irishman’s cheek.
Sean looks away at her compassionate gesture, almost as if he can’t stand to look at her.
John finishes placing the tray down onto the dresser and, in the mirror, sees the look of outraged pain on her beautiful young face. He turns and steps over to the bed, lightly touching her shoulder and mutters, “Easy.”
She looks at him, tears in her eyes. His return look is full of compassion. A single tear tracks down her cheek. She angrily wipes it away as she stands up and leaves the room, with Sean continuing to gaze out the window dispassionately.
John sighs and looks down at his young friend. “You know something, Sean. I know you’re in pain, but are you sure you didn’t get shot in the head?”
Sean turns to look at him. The look in his eyes seem to be more dead than alive. Sean keeps the eye contact for only a few seconds, before turning and looking outside once more.
John grunts in frustration. He turns to look at David and sees Joey talking to him in hushed tones. She sees him looking at them and crooks a finger in beckon.
John looks at Sean, who stares off, oblivious to the goings-on around him. He sighs and leaves the room with Joey while David continues tending to his patient.
Once outside of the room, John looks at the living area and sees Paul stirring a bit in his sleep. “What’s going on?”
Joey holds up what looks to be a telegram. “More trouble than we first thought.” She hands the telegram over and says, “We need to be ready to leave in an instant.”
John reads the note. His heart sinks. He didn’t know Davison, but that doesn’t mean anything. He looks at the date. Looks like the message was sent the day after they left Norman last time. John looks at Joey. He knows the shock is apparent on his face.
She nods and smirks. “Yup. It looks like the U.S. Marshals have declared war on Richard Buchanan. I doubt Lyttle knows about this. I hope he returns with Richard soon. I want him to pay for what he did here.”
John nods. “We’re gonna have a fight on our hands with Sean, though. If Richard is in custody, Sean may try and kill him anyway.”
She frowns. “I know. I don’t blame him, but we can’t allow that to happen. He has to be tried, convicted, THEN hung.”
John nods and motions for the marshal to follow him. Once downstairs, John looks around and sees Josh and Andy talking not far from the back door.
He smiles. His blood-brother has turned into a much better father than he expected. He still feels the pain of betrayal, but sees the need of the new life. He just wishes his blood-brother would have tried to find a way to let him know.
He and Joey pass by them, on their way out to the garden. As they pass by, John hears what sounds like Andy giving her adopted father instructions on where to put stuff up.
Just outside the door, John turns and leans up against the outside wall. He sighs, feeling refreshed. “There’s something about being outside during the day. Especially after being cooped up for awhile.”
Joey turns her back to the bathhouse to face John and hooks her thumbs in her pockets. “So, what are you wanting to talk about?”
John holds up the telegram. “You know what this means? That we can call out the Army and have them track him down, right?”
Joey shakes her head. “We can’t command the Army, anymore. Now that there’s a territorial government in place, they’re the only ones who can call out the troops. No, we’re on our own for this one. If Lyttle doesn’t bring him in, we have to.”
John sighs heavily and looks up in the sky. His mind races. He knows this will come down to a fight. But, when? Where? Sometimes trying to interpret His will, His timing is frustrating enough to make one want to give up. “Have you thought about telling your father?”
She shakes her head. “He can’t help and knowing would only make him worry about us all the more.”
John pushes away from the wall. “Alright, then. Here’s to praying Lyttle brings the animal in. We’ll figure out the rest from there.”
Joey nods silently and heads back inside.
John looks out at the afternoon sky. He feels the road stretching out before him, going off into the horizon. He sighs heavily again and heads back inside, hoping his young Irish friend is soon cured of the darkness in his soul.
JAKE LOOKS AT HIS BEAUTIFUL daughter, all stretched out over the bed. She came upstairs about an hour ago, complaining that her head hurt. Jake told her she was probably just tired and to try and rest her eyes. He’s glad she listened.
He smiles down at the sandy haired little girl and can’t imagine his life or his future without her in it. Silently, he offers up a quick prayer of thanksgiving at His designs. Quietly, he makes sure she’s covered with a blanket, then goes back downstairs to the conversation about funeral arrangements.
Just before he went back to sleep a few hours ago, Sean told David about his parent’s wish to be buried on their own property, not land they owe rent on.
David explained that Doc Lopez didn’t have any family, either. Apparently, they’d all died several years ago in a cholera outbreak.
And so, the discussion began. What to do for the services, who should speak, who should be the one to officiate. Should there be a memorial, or just a graveside service. Open or closed casket?
Close to the beginning of the discussion, Joey went upstairs and got Brigit to bring her opinions in on the conversation. Once Brigit’s voice was added, wrinkles in the plan started to smooth out.
Brigit, being the closest person to the family without being blood kin, served as the final word on many of the details. While she was part of the decision-making process, Brigit was becoming more impatient as time went on.
After having heard about how Sean treated her, Jake is surprised Brigit hasn’t left his side. He thought the young woman would be so hurt, she would refuse to talk to the hateful young man. I guess some people get pleasure out of being treated like rubbish after all. Whatever trips your trigger, I guess.
Jake looks at John and sees his blood-brother appearing to stare off into space. Joey is discussing food at the service wi
th David, while Rebekah just stares stonily at the young marshal.
That’s another dynamic Jake doesn’t understand. Why doesn’t Rebekah like Joey? One would think they would be fast friends.
Then there’s Brigit. While she’s been engaged in the conversation, she’s just sitting there quietly at the moment. Jake’s not sure, but he gets the feeling the young woman is barely keeping sane. He feels sympathy for her. Losing the only real family she has, has got to be super rough on her.
Jake resettles in his seat and clears his throat meaningfully, “So, are we agreed? Is there anything else we need to worry about at this point?”
Everyone around the table shakes their head. Jake stands. “Then, I believe I am headed to bed. It sounds like we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.” He waves bye to the assembled group and trudges upstairs, looking forward to the darkness of night and the comforts of his daughter snuggled up to him in sleep.
JOHN STANDS NEXT TO Joey at the railroad platform. They were informed Marshal Walters was going to be on the one o’clock train. Actually, Joey was informed but, when she’d heard the news, she immediately asked John to come along.
John was unsure at first as to why but soon discovered it was so the three lawmen could discuss John’s appointment as deputy. He was curious why she didn’t just bring the marshal to the hotel, until he found out she was planning on having Walters get Wheeler from the jail and head back out as fast as possible.
When she was asked why not bring the prisoner to the platform, she avoided the question. When pressed, she said she didn’t think Dawkins would cause any trouble, but making sure to have one more experienced gun handy would be best.
John checks the wall clock once more. It’s right at one. So, where’s the train? He looks around and, for the most part, everything looks like it ought. Casually, he leans back against the wall, propping a foot against it and loosens his gun in the holster. Everything seems to be quiet. Too quiet. The skin on the back of his neck itches and John can’t control a shiver racing down his spine.
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