A Bride to Heal His Broken Heart

by Melynda Carlyle

  Lorna held the woman up as she started to collapse, overcome by the situation. When Darren stepped forward and relieved her of Sofia’s weight, she swallowed back her fear and nodded, heading toward the teepee.

  “His name is Timothy,” Darren quietly called after her.

  Lorna nodded once without turning to acknowledge him. Tocho followed her as she stepped inside the teepee. A small fire sat in the middle of the space, the smoke rising in a swirling cloud straight up through the opening at the top. Animal skins were scattered on the ground, and Timothy lay on one a few feet away from the fire.

  Lorna forced herself to remain calm and she drew upon all of her previous experiences. She crouched next to Timothy’s body and pulled away the cloth that had been used to stem the bleeding.

  Blood oozed from the wound and she gently pushed around the edges of the wound, watching Timothy’s face for signs that he was feeling her movements. When his face remained passive, she nodded once, knowing her time was limited.

  She removed the satchel she always wore crossways over her body. She’d gotten into the habit whilst working in the army, as she had never known when she may have been called upon to help a wounded soldier.

  It was a habit that she had continued, even after leaving the war and returning back to her normal life. These days, she never went anywhere without it unless she was home. Since she still wasn’t sure if she had a home, the bag had been her constant companion.

  She grabbed the knife from her bag and quickly cut away the clothing obscuring a complete view of his wound. There was a small two-inch hole in the boy’s side, but no exit wound. He was thankfully still unconscious, so Lorna acted as quickly as possible.

  She turned and asked the Indian man standing just inside the door of the teepee, “Do you have any alcohol? Clean water? I need something to rinse the wound and my hands with.”

  Tocho said something and a woman who had been crouching off to the side of the teepee moved forward, extending an animal-skin flask to Lorna. “This is Chenoa. She will help you.”

  Lorna took the flask and sniffed it. “What is this?”

  “Mabesaa paa’a,” Tocho replied quietly. “Healing water.”

  Lorna sniffed again, picking up the herbs that had been infused into the water. She could smell sage and something that had a pine odor, but she couldn’t quite place the source. She sniffed again and murmured, “Sage and…what else?”

  “Arnica. The berries from the sage and flowers from the plant are steeped together,” Tocho quietly informed her.

  Lorna nodded and then poured a small amount onto her hands, rubbing them together to hopefully remove any contaminants, and then she poured the water directly onto the wound. While working as a nurse, she would have used alcohol to clean out the wound, but she had to work with what she had.

  She used a finger to gently probe inside the wound. A blanket of relief came over her when she felt the bullet only one knuckle deep. It appeared to be lodged up against one of Timothy’s ribs, and a deep gouge led to the actual wound, making Lorna think that he’d almost escaped being shot at all.

  She reached for the scalpel in her bag, washed it with water, and then carefully enlarged the entrance wound. Timothy remained unconscious through it all. She worked quickly, only breathing easier when she finally managed to extract the bullet with a pair of tweezers.

  She held it up for those watching to see, and then put it down and reached for the flask of water once more. She poured water into the wound, flushing it clean before reaching for a needle and a ligature.

  She quickly sewed up the wound and then washed the finished suture line with the remaining water. She wished she could offer Sofia the assurance that Timothy was going to be all right, but injuries like these often resulted in an infection – an infection that could easily take his young life.

  Chenoa had been watching her every move, and now came forward, holding out a small clay vessel filled with a salve. “This will help. No infection.”

  Lorna was surprised to hear the woman speaking in a language she could understand. She didn’t immediately realize the importance of what the woman had told her. She glanced down and then lifted the vessel up to her nose and lightly inhaled.

  Lorna sniffed delicately at the vessel and was pleased when the smell of herbs greeted her nose. “What is this?”

  Tocho stepped forward and offered, “It is a healing salve we make from local herbs. Sage, arnica, pine sap, bark from the trees. Chenoa wants to apply it and is waiting for your approval. It truly does fight infection.”

  Lorna had no choice but to trust that these people were telling the truth. It seemed that Darren trusted them implicitly. He hadn’t even come into the teepee to see what was happening, his trust in these Indians was so strong. She handed the small vessel back to Chenoa and then nodded.

  She watched as the woman gently applied a generous portion of the salve over the sutures. Lorna gave the woman a tight smile and then got to her feet, feeling tingles in her legs and lower back from sitting awkwardly on the hard ground for so long.

  She stepped out of the teepee and was immediately met by Darren, his intense stare and dark eyes meeting her own and holding her gaze. She moved forward a step or two, coming to stand within a few feet of him. She watched as he swallowed painfully, his eyes brimming with emotion.

  “Is he…?”

  “I removed the bullet and the Indians put some healing salve on the wound.”

  Darren nodded once, his gaze never leaving her own. He stepped forward, his hand coming out in a gesture of supplication. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you…”

  Lorna broke their gaze and looked down, seeing his hand extended, palm up, with his long fingers and callused palm. His gesture was an apology and Lorna reached out and allowed him to clasp his fingers tightly around her own.

  The shivers and little bursts of electricity that traveled up her spine were not necessarily welcome, but she attributed them to the fact that she hadn’t slept well sitting beside Brian’s bed through the night.

  She shook his hand, and then pulled her own away before turning to Sofia. The woman was looking at her with hope and sadness in her eyes. Lorna opened her arms as the woman collapsed against her chest. “Thank you, thank you,” Sofia repeated over and over.

  “No thanks are necessary. I’m only glad I was able to help.” Despite my fear, I was able to help. That feels good. I only hope Timothy survives. A mother shouldn’t have to bury her son any more than a father should have to.

  Chapter 9

  Orvis Harington, mayor of Virginia City, sat in his private parlor, feeling irritated and just plain riled up after what had happened in town earlier. His pea-green velvet coat only served to make his jowls appear even more jaundiced than normal, the sallow complexion of his face betraying his irritation and poor health. His balding head was without a hat at the moment, and his dark eyes barely concealed the anger wanting to burst forth.

  The bank robbery was supposed to be a simple task, but the bumbling idiots he’d paid to wreak havoc on the town had managed to bungle it badly. This was Virginia City, and the only lawman in town was mostly blind. Chisholm was comfortable in his position, and as long as he continued to be more of a help than a hindrance to Orvis, he would keep his position. Orvis would see to it.

  That meant the outlaws needed to do their jobs. They’d gotten away with the bank’s funds, but they’d shot the pastor’s son in the process. To say the townsfolk were upset was putting it mildly.

  He looked at Claus and Leroy Simpson, two of the men who he was currently paying to run the group of outlaws Orvis had hired to do his dirty work. Leroy was the older of the two and supposed to be in charge, but his younger brother was a hothead and couldn’t seem to stop shooting people.

  Orvis shook his head sadly and then stated, “You two are lucky I don’t take you outside of town and shoot you myself.” He directed his gaze at Claus and told him harshly, “You were told to threaten the townsfol
k with your guns. You know, shoot them off in the air a couple of times so that people would get out of the way and nobody would think to be a hero. Not shoot a kid.”

  He shook his head again and wondered, not for the first time, if he’d made a mistake in trusting them with this delicate matter. The brothers had been under his employ ever since he’d found them in an orphanage in Texas. They’d been underfed, dressed in too-small clothing, and were an obvious source of trouble for the matron of the orphanage. Two spirited boys needed a way to expend their excess energy and being cooped up inside the orphanage was not fulfilling that need.

  When Orvis had first met them, they were both being hauled back inside the orphanage’s doors by the matron, Mrs. Tidwell, who had a good hold on their ears. She was lecturing them profusely about their antics and threatening to send them to a work farm where they would soon be begging her to let them come back to the orphanage.

  Orvis had immediately stepped in, making himself known to Mrs. Tidwell, and offered to take both boys under his wing and raise them up. He hadn’t promised to turn them into good, law-abiding adults, but he’d fed and clothed them, and taught them what he needed them to know.

  Now that they were adults, they were working for him. Most of the time they did a good job – until recently. Lately, it seemed as if they were creating more problems than they were supposedly taking care of. It was annoying and Orvis was quickly losing his patience with their ineptness.

  “It’s not our fault that kid got in the way. He looked right at us.”

  “So, you shot him?” Orvis asked in disgust. He looked over at Leroy and told him, “This was sloppy. Extremely sloppy. If you’re going to be shooting people, at least don’t shoot the pastor’s son or a member of the largest family in the region.”

  “Boss—” Leroy tried to defend their actions, but Orvis wasn’t having any of it.

  He slammed his hand down on the desk, rattling the objects sitting on top, and lowered his voice menacingly. “Silence! I understood when you reported back that you had shot and killed Mark Wilson. I even condoned it because I know what the Wilsons are capable of. And now that they’re grieving, they’re less likely to stick their noses into our business.”

  Orvis had a dislike for the Wilsons, not because of anything they had done to him personally, but because they had what he didn’t – what he couldn’t seem to take without more problems cropping up. Respect. Land. Wealth.

  The land they currently ranched should have been his. Brian Wilson’s late wife should have also been his, but Ginny had spurned all of his advances. That had been a sore spot with Orvis for several decades, and he had finally come up with a way to make Brian pay.

  Six months earlier, the railroad men had come to Virginia City, announcing their plans to expand the train service and bring all of the advancements of the East to their small town. Orvis had been fully onboard with their plans, especially when they’d shown him a map placing the new rail tracks right through the middle of the Wilson ranch. Of course, Brian Wilson had vehemently rejected the railroad’s offer to purchase his land, even going so far as to warn them from stepping foot on his property in the future.

  That had actually played right into Orvis’s plan. He intended to make living in Virginia City so uncomfortable that Brian Wilson would be more than willing to sell his land just to get his family to a safer place. Orvis would then sell the land to George Hess, the railroad man, and make a hefty profit, earning the respect and appreciation of the entire town. Those plans would only come to fruition if Leroy and Claus quit screwing everything up. Although…

  Orvis laughed aloud. “Now that I think about it, you stirred up some much-needed chaos in town. The people here were getting complacent in their easy-going, crime-free community.”

  He settled back in his chair and looked between the brothers. “Already I’ve heard rumblings about some of the miners wanting to sell off their claims, fearful that the railroad is going to come in and take over their land. Some of the ranchers are doing the same. It’s only a matter of time before they all see the writing on the proverbial wall and come asking for someone to take over their lands.” And when Brian Wilson comes knocking on my door, I’ll finally get what I wanted…or, most of what I wanted. Ginny, God rest her soul, will never be mine, but she’s not his now either. That has to be some sort of justice.

  Claus smirked. “So, killing that man and shooting the boy were good things.”

  Orvis rolled his eyes and then nodded toward the door. “Get out of here, both of you. And don’t shoot anyone else. Also, make sure no one sees you leaving here. We can’t have the townsfolk starting to put two and two together.”

  The townsfolk knew the two boys were raised by Orvis, but when their antics had become questionable and started crossing legal lines, Orvis had distanced himself from them. He’d played the unappreciated benefactor to the upstanding citizens of Virginia City so well that many of the townsfolk had started to feel sorry for his plight. Now, his dealings with the duo were kept as private as possible. The less the townsfolk knew, the better.

  “What do you want us to do?” Claus asked before leaving the room.

  Orvis thought for a moment and then smiled evilly. “Find out about the young woman staying with the Wilsons. She’s staying at the ranch, but she’s only been in town a short while. I want to know everything about her and how long she plans on sticking around.”

  “Will do,” Leroy told him. “What about the gold?”

  Orvis waved the question away. “Leave it for now. We’ll have plenty of time to follow that map and retrieve the chest once the Wilsons are no longer there to protect the land.”

  Leroy nodded and pushed his brother out of the office door, shutting it behind him.

  Orvis turned and looked out the window behind his desk. Virginia City was his to command and control. Newcomers weren’t welcome here if they were going to cause problems for him in the future. Especially a nosy female.

  He’d watched from the window of his office earlier that morning as Darren had driven into town with the young female beside him. The fact that she’d traveled to town with him, alone and unescorted, made him question her relationship to the members of the ranch. As far as he knew, Brian didn’t have a daughter, and June had been widowed for years.

  Darren’s body language had definitely shown he felt responsible for her safety once the ruckus at the bank had begun, but as far as Orvis knew, Darren wasn’t known to be partial to any of the young ladies in town. A rumor had reached his ears that the young lady had come here intending to marry Mark, but with her intended buried six feet under, she still remained. Why? That was what he needed to know.

  He wanted the Wilson ranch and he would have it, no matter what. The owner of the railroad company, George Hess, had promised Orvis more money than he could even imagine for access to the Wilsons’ property for the railroad line construction. That didn’t even count the gold that outlaws had buried there decades earlier. Orvis had been in possession of the map for most of those years, biding his time.

  There was a hefty bonus in this for Orvis if he made it happen. Now, all he needed to do was wait and see how many more Wilsons had to pay the ultimate price before Brian came to him, begging him to buy the ranch out. If the newcomer could be used to help his plan move along, so be it. Orvis didn’t really care who got hurt, as long as he came out the winner when the dust cleared.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long now.

  Chapter 10

  It had been two days since the incident with the outlaws in town and the bank robbery. Darren had been struggling with what had happened and what his role should be going forward. One part of him wanted to go after the outlaws and see justice served. Another part couldn’t deny that his own stubbornness had gotten in the way of helping Timothy.

  Lorna had proven, twice now, that she was capable of helping those who were injured or hurt, and Darren had almost prevented her from being able to save the pastor’s son. Thankful
ly, Timothy had survived, but the outcome could have been much worse.

  Darren had only been thinking of getting Timothy to someone who could adequately treat his bullet wound and he’d driven out to the Paiute camp without a second thought. They were his family after all, and he knew firsthand how their brand of healing worked.

  Darren was only the adoptive son of Brian Wilson. His father, Silas, had been a fur trapper who had fallen in love with a Paiute woman and taken her as his wife. They had lived amongst the Paiute people, and a few years later, Darren had been born.

  When Darren was very young, his mother, Wyanet – the Paiute word for beautiful – had suddenly gotten ill. One of the white man’s illnesses had swept through their small camp, taking the lives of many of the women and children.

  Most of the older boys and men had been out hunting, only leaving behind a few capable men to protect those in the camp. His father had been one of those men; but when the fevers began, he’d been helpless to stop the illness.