Mandy and the Missouri Man

by Linda Ford

  He made his way through the room, following the call for help, reached a doorway, and paused. The fire raged to his left, sizzling angrily as bucket after bucket of water reached it. For a moment, the flames died back as if beaten then roared to life again. He turned to his right, down a hall. Through the smoke he made out another doorway and crept through it.

  “Help me.” A woman saw him, grabbed an arm, and dragged him forward. “My husband. He isn’t moving.”

  A man lay on the floor.

  “What happened?”

  “He fell. Banged his head on the dresser.”

  Trace grabbed the unconscious man’s shoulders and, keeping low, dragged him toward the door.

  The woman whimpered, rooted to the floor.

  “Follow me. I’ll get you out.”

  She moaned, but her feet didn’t leave the spot.

  “Lady, we have to get out.”

  “I’ll get her.” Mandy crawled past him, pulled the woman to her knees, and pushed her toward the doorway.

  “I told you to stay.”

  “I never agreed, did I?”

  He pulled the man; she pushed the woman until they were back near the window. He wanted to be angry at Mandy, but he couldn’t. All that mattered was getting the four of them out safely. Someone jumped through the window and grabbed the injured man. Many hands reached forward to take him.

  Mandy pushed the woman forward, and hands pulled her to safety.

  The heat grew intense, the smoke so thick Trace’s eyes streamed with tears. Between the tears and the smoke he couldn’t see Mandy. Couldn’t see the window. “Mandy,” he rasped. “Where are you?”

  She coughed. Couldn’t stop.

  He reached out. Connected with her arm. Dragged her to where he knew the window had to be. Flames licked overhead, crackling like the laughter of the devil. “Get out.” He didn’t let go of her arm until he felt another hand, heard a voice saying, “We got you.” The hands ripped her from his grasp.

  The noise overhead roared. Flames surrounded him. He coughed, choking. His eyes streamed.

  Then everything went black.

  NINE

  Mandy stared up into the sky, her lungs searing from the smoke she’d inhaled. Joanna bent over her on one side, Glory on the other.

  Joanna’s hands examined her, stroked her hair. “You’ll survive.”

  “I know you’re crazy,” Glory said, her voice heavy with concern despite the anger she tried to convey. “But I never thought I’d see you dive into a burning building.”

  Mandy gasped, tried to speak but discovered her voice had disappeared in the pain of a burned throat. She reached for Joanna’s shirt front and pulled her close, barely able to focus through the sting of her eyes. “Trace?” She mouthed the word. “Is Trace okay?”

  “He’s fine.” Joanna was the world’s worst liar.

  Trace wasn’t fine. Panic stole her strength, and she lay like an old rag. But she must find him. She tried to sit up. Got as far as one elbow. Ignored her dizziness, her seared throat, her ineffectual lungs.

  Where is he? She begged Joanna silently.

  Joanna nodded to a group of men beyond them.

  Help me. She appealed to both sisters.

  Joanna and Glory exchanged a look.

  “I know how I’d feel if it were Levi,” Glory said, and pulled her to her feet. She’d have never made it without their help. With a sister on either side, Mandy stumbled through the men.

  The men parted. Trace lay on the ground.

  “Trace.” The groaned word ripped her frightened heart every bit as cruelly as it scraped up her damaged throat.

  She jerked from her sisters’ arms and fell to her knees beside Trace’s inert body. With arms so weak and trembling she didn’t recognize them as her own, she pressed palms to his chest. A cry of relief escaped when she felt it rise. He was alive.

  She leaned over, pressed her face to his smoke-streaked shirt front, and cried. She hoped everyone would think her eyes were streaming from the smoke.

  Hands pulled her back, and she collapsed to the ground, one hand clinging to Trace’s as he lay motionless at her side. Motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest.

  She coughed again and again. Joanna eased her to her side.

  “Cough it all out.”

  Like she could stop. She coughed until she wondered her lungs didn’t come out. She drank cupful after cupful of water.

  In the meantime, several people hovered around Trace, discussing what they should do.

  “He got clunked on the head when the beam came down. He needs to lie still until he comes to.”

  “No,” another “expert” said, “he needs to hang his head over a bench or something to clear his lungs.”

  “My old granny said there wasn’t nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a good dose of salts.”

  Mandy met Joanna’s gaze and rolled her eyes.

  Joanna chuckled. “Sounds like Mrs. Ester.”

  Mandy nodded. They’d once been left in the care of a woman who treated everything from cough to tummy ache to tardiness with a dose of salts. The girls had quickly learned nothing hurt as much as the result of that particular medication and never complained about any ache or discomfort.

  Bull, from the saloon, joined the circle, a bottle in his hand. “A snort of whisky will set him right.”

  One of the men jeered. “He can’t swallow when he’s out cold.”

  Feeling a little stronger, Mandy edged to Trace’s side. She managed to whisper his name. She stroked his cheek, streaking the smoke smudges. She breathed a silent plea. Trace. Don’t die on me. Not just when I discover how much you mean to me. Please, God. Don’t let him die.

  Levi pushed aside the men and knelt at Trace’s side. He gave him careful consideration then reached for Mandy’s hand. Glory joined him and took her other hand. Joanna stood behind her and rested her palms on Mandy’s shoulders. Then Levi prayed. “Father in heaven, we ask for the life of this good man. He’s saved others. Please save him.”

  “Are Mr. and Mrs. Murray okay?” Mandy whispered.

  Levi answered her. “Mr. Murray has a lump on his head, but they’ll be just fine. Thanks to you and Trace.”

  “It’s thanks to Trace. He was certain he heard someone. I only followed him in to make sure he got out safely.” It hurt to talk even at a whisper, but everyone needed to know Trace was a hero.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off his still face. Even streaked and dirty, his was the most handsome face she’d ever seen. Why had she wasted their time together fighting with him? What if she didn’t get a second chance?

  His eyes fluttered.

  “Trace.” She wanted to hug him and kiss him.

  He coughed, gasping for air. Levi sat him up as he coughed out the smoke in his lungs.

  Trace pushed Levi’s steadying hands away. Jerked about as if seeking something. His gaze rested on Mandy. He stopped searching and reached for her hand.

  “You’re safe.” The words croaked from him.

  “I’m safe. The Murrays are safe. And you’re a hero.”

  “No hero,” he managed. “Is the fire out?”

  “Dowsed, and nothing else affected.”

  He nodded, and with a strangled moan, reached for his head.

  “The roof came down on you,” Levi said.

  A crowd gathered ’round to see for themselves the man who’d risked his life to save Mr. and Mrs. Murray.

  “Who is he?”

  “Where did he come from?”

  “What’s your name, mister?”

  Mandy turned to Levi and spoke quietly. “He doesn’t want people to know he lives here. He thinks he has to protect Cora.” For now they wouldn’t argue about whether or not he was right.

  Levi nodded and got to his feet. “Folks, give the man a chance to rest. His name is Trace, and he was visiting at the stopping house.”

  Trace relaxed visibly.

  Mandy realized she clung to Trace’s hand
and jerked away.

  Levi signaled to a couple of men. “Let’s get these people to the stopping house to rest.”

  Joanna and Glory helped Mandy to her feet. She shook off their assistance. “I can walk on my own.” And she hurried to Trace’s side, hovering close to make sure he didn’t fall as Levi and another man half carried him to the stopping house.

  Joanna dashed ahead to set up a cot for Trace by the time they arrived.

  Trace shook off helping hands and refused to accept the comfort of the narrow bed. “I must get back.”

  But it was obvious he was too weak.

  Mandy knew that fact wouldn’t deter him. “I’ll go to Cora and explain what happened. You better not leave while there are so many people milling about. Unless you want someone following you.” She stared into his eyes, hoping he might reconsider his need to hide. Cora’s desire to hide.

  But he only nodded.

  She wondered how long he could continue to conceal his whereabouts. People weren’t stupid, and if they wanted to find him for any reason, good or otherwise, they would. But now was not the time to discuss differences of opinion. “I’m not leaving until I see you on that cot.”

  They dueled with their gazes, his rapier sharp despite the smoke and streaks on his skin.

  “And wash your face.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe you should look in a mirror.”

  She dashed to the mirror in the bedroom and groaned. She looked down. Her clothes were as soiled as her skin. She went to the kitchen and washed her face and hands then ducked into the bedroom and slipped into a clean shirt and trousers.

  When she stepped into the big dining room, Trace lay stretched out on the cot, an arm thrown across his eyes. He shifted his arm so he could watch her. Grinned at her clean clothes. “That’s better.”

  “Can’t say the same for you.”

  “I’ll have to wait until I return to camp.” His voice was hoarse. He had to pause to catch his breath. “Tell Cora I’m safe. Tell her—”

  “I’ll tell her the truth.”

  “Don’t frighten her.”

  Feeling sorry for his predicament, she crossed the room and squatted at his side. “Trace, trust me to take care of this little thing.”

  He reached for her hand. “I know you don’t agree, but promise me you’ll keep Cora’s whereabouts a secret.”

  She examined their joined hands. Allowed herself to likewise examine her feelings. She cared about him enough to accept his way of thinking on this subject even though she thought he was mistaken. She would do as he asked even though it was in her power to choose whatever direction she wanted. However, when she tackled the situation she would do so openly. No sneaking around doing things behind his back. “No one will know where I’ve gone. You can count on that.”

  “Thank you.” He squeezed her hand. “For everything.”

  “Everything? I’m only making one promise.” She didn’t want him to get the idea she vowed eternal silence on anything.

  “For being you.”

  His words fell into her heart with a sweetness that stung her eyes and threatened to make her start coughing again. “I best be going.” She slipped her hand free from his grasp and headed for the door without a backward look. If she looked at him—saw the tenderness she hoped and feared she’d see—she would embarrass herself by weeping.

  Sneaking away from the stopping house was no problem. Any more than taking a roundabout trail through the woods that left no clue of her passing.

  She approached the camp in silence and looked around for Cora. At first she didn’t see her; then she heard a whisper and detected a movement up the hill in some underbrush. She caught a flash of black and white as Goliath chased something. Cora was hiding there, but the kitten gave away her position.

  Mandy straightened and walked into the camp as if everything was normal. “Cora? Where are you? It’s me.”

  Cora scampered from the bushes, scooping up Goliath as she descended the hill. She was five feet from Mandy before she glanced up and looked past Mandy. “Where’s Trace?”

  “He’ll be along later.”

  Mandy’s face wrinkled into a map of worry. “Why isn’t he here now?”

  “He’s resting.”

  Cora cried out. “What happened?”

  “Come, sit down, and I’ll explain everything.” She led the girl over to the log house and pulled her down to sit side by side with their backs against the wall. “Trace is a hero.”

  Cora nodded. “I know.”

  Mandy smiled. Of course he was a hero to his sister. “Because of him two people are alive today.”

  “Two? But. . .” She turned to study Mandy. “I meant when he rescued me. But we aren’t talking about the same thing, are we?”

  It would be interesting to know the details behind Cora’s words. “There was a fire in town today.”

  “A fire?” Cora pressed the cat to her chest with both hands. Little Goliath seemed to sense his job was to provide comfort and didn’t protest.

  “He insisted on going into the burning house and helping the two occupants escape. He took in a lot of smoke and got a bang on the head, but he’s okay.”

  Cora moaned.

  Mandy rushed out the last words. “He’s resting for now.” She didn’t say Trace would find it impossible to leave without one of the curious or grateful following him.

  Cora rocked back and forth. “Poor Trace. Poor Trace.”

  Mandy reached for Cora’s arm, trying to still the frantic movement. “He’s okay.”

  Cora turned wide-eyed shock toward her. “But it will remind him of everything.” She touched her cheek. Her face crumpled, and a sob shook her.

  Mandy pulled the girl to her and patted her back. “He was very brave.”

  “He always is. Our parents were killed in a house fire. He tried to save them, but they were already gone. He pulled me from the flames.” Every word was punctuated with a sob. “I don’t know if he’ll ever stop blaming himself.”

  “Why should he blame himself?”

  “He just does.” Cora wailed and clutched Mandy’s arms, squeezing Goliath between them. The cat meowed a protest and wriggled free to sit at Cora’s knees and groom himself.

  Cora quieted then sat up. “You’re sure he’s okay?”

  “I wouldn’t have left if I wasn’t.”

  Cora nodded. “He protects me by keeping us hidden. I appreciate it. I don’t want people to stare at me and call me horrible names.”

  Mandy squeezed Cora’s arm. “You need to give people a chance to see past your burn to your sweetness.”

  Cora watched the cat. “Trace is hiding as much as I am, you know.”

  “What’s he hiding from?”

  “People.”

  “But why?”

  Cora grew still. Stared into the distance, past the trees, past the present. “People are not always who you think they are. Sometimes friends turn out to be enemies. How do you know who to trust?”

  “Someone turned against him?”

  “Friends, supposedly. A good lesson not to trust anyone.”

  The blanket decision stung like hot smoke. It seared right to the pit of her stomach. “You don’t trust me?”

  Cora gave her a crooked smile. “You’re the exception.”

  Mandy knew her smile was equally uncertain. She didn’t want to be the only exception. There were plenty of good, decent people out there if only Trace would give them a chance. Surely he’d seen that today. First, at the stopping house where only good honest people sat around the table then later, when many hands had dealt with the fire and many people had expressed concern and gratitude for Trace.

  Cora picked up the kitten and moved to the edge of the clearing. She picked up a basket of mending and examined a tear in one of Trace’s shirts.

  Mandy knew the chance to press for more information or to suggest a flaw in her thinking had passed. . .for now.

  “When will he be back?” Cora asked.


  “I don’t think it would hurt him any to spend the night. I’ll stay until he returns.”

  She leaned back to watch Cora, who kept her attention on threading a needle. For the first time since Mandy had been pulled from the burning building, she had a chance to examine her feelings. To admit without pressure or fear that she had grown fond of Trace. Extremely fond. Now what did she intend to do about it? She shifted to study her twig house. If she really wanted to, she could finish the house in a matter of days—hours, even.

  The question was—did she want to beat Trace? Did she want to take the land from him? Would he leave if she did?

  She sprang to her feet and circled her house and then the one Trace built. Her thoughts raced ahead as she worked out a plan.

  ❧

  Trace slept in restless fits, waking often to cough. His lungs burned. His head felt like a beam had landed on it. Which was exactly what happened, according to Levi.

  Glory and Joanna bustled about the kitchen. Men mingled outside, waiting for the meal to be served.

  Trace pushed himself to the side of the cot, sat until the dizziness passed, then made it to his feet.

  Joanna noticed and hurried from the kitchen. “You need to rest.”

  “I’m not going to lie here in the middle of the room and be an object of interest while those men come in to eat. Thank you for the meal and for your kindness in providing me a place to rest, but I’ll be heading on home now.”

  Joanna gave him serious study. “You’re sure you can make it on your own? Glory could help you.”

  He held up a protesting hand. The movement caused his head to pound, and he choked back a groan. “No need.”

  “Very well.”

  Glory joined her sister in the doorway. “Sure wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if you collapse on the trail and Mandy finds you.”

  “I can handle anything Mandy hands out.”

  Joanna and Glory laughed.

  He smiled weakly. “Maybe not at the moment though.” He stepped out to the porch and went to a washbasin to clean up.

  Two men moved in to shake Trace’s hand and thank him for helping fight the fire. But the majority of them were simply passing through. Many weren’t even aware there’d been a fire. He made his way to the edge of the yard and leaned against a shed as if waiting with the others for supper to be announced.