by Joyce Armor
Bridget was quiet for the remainder of the trip, and Per gave her husband a worried look several times, even as she held the baby and played little hand games with him. Gus just shrugged. The next few days would be awfully interesting. He couldn’t imagine the situation with Karl could get much worse. He was a shell of the person Gus had known all his life, the confident, charming, capable brother he had always looked up to. Karl was destroying himself and Gus had run out of ideas on how to stop him. Could this little red-headed cousin of Per’s really make a difference? He hoped to hell she could. Gus had not even been able to put it into words, but deep in his gut he feared Karl might try to harm himself or end it all. Gus had been concerned enough to remove all the guns from the house and from Karl’s cabin, except for one that he kept hidden in his room, in case of an emergency.
It was a toss-up who was more concerned as Gus pulled the wagon up to the ranch house. It was a little after noon, and they decided Bridget would clean up and they would enjoy a mid-day meal before Bridget would face Karl. Doing her best to remove the trail dust, Bridget changed into a simple blue day dress with embroidered cuffs and hem. It was form-fitting, and she thought it flattered her body. She re-braided her hair, pinched her cheeks to add a little color and gave herself one last look in the mirror above the dressing table. She decided it was the best she could do. She felt like she was girding for battle. Perhaps she was. She headed downstairs to eat and get as much information on Karl as she could.
“We set his arm and leg as soon as possible. I splinted them to get down the mountain.”
She could tell Gus felt some guilt about Karl’s condition.
“I’m sure you did everything right, Gus. Sometimes bones just don’t heal right. Or he may have jarred them somehow in his sleep. What are his symptoms?”
“He won’t let us check him out closely, but it’s obvious he’s in pain when he tries to walk.” Per looked so sad. It was apparent she cared deeply for her brother-in-law.
“I don’t think he can straighten the arm,” Gus added. “I saw him pick up a coffee cup and drop it. It’s like he has no strength in his hand.”
Bridget thought on that for a moment, pushing her potatoes around on the plate. “He won’t let me examine him.”
“No.” Gus didn’t hesitate to agree with her.
“I’ll have to dose him.”
Gus sputtered as he was drinking his coffee, and Per laughed.
“It’s the only way. I have some laudanum. Would he eat and drink something if we brought him a tray?”
Gus was doubtful, but Per said, “Maybe.”
Bridget beamed. “Let’s make a cake!”
Per laughed. “I am so glad you’re here. I think you’re just what Karl needs.”
Gus still looked dubious. He shook his head as he rose. “I have ranch work to do. Just don’t hurt my brother.”
Bridget gave Gus her most sincere look. “It’s a war we’re in, Gus. There will be some pain on all sides before we get through this.”
He held her gaze for a moment before nodding. Then he leaned over and kissed his wife, grabbed his hat from the hook near the mantel and walked off.
“I really like Gus,” Bridget smiled at her cousin.
“I am so lucky, Bridget, and I know it. God bless Sophie for deciding to become a mail-order bride. I never would have even thought of it if it wasn’t for our smart cousin. The best decision I ever made.” She looked past Bridget, toward where Gus had disappeared, as if she could conjure him up. She had a dreamy look on her face. Then she got more serious. “If you can bring Karl back to his old self, it will be a miracle. If anyone can do it, I believe you can.”
Bridget rose. “Let’s get these dishes washed and make that cake. What does he like to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
“He’s awfully partial to lemonade.”
“Excellent. I’m thinking chocolate cake. Everybody likes chocolate cake.”
* * *
Karl’s cabin was about 300 yards from the main ranch house, set in a little glade not far from the creek that ran near the homestead. It was a one-story log cabin with two bedrooms and a loft, Per had explained. The three of them built it before the accident, in anticipation of Bridget’s arrival. That was like a punch in her gut, a harsh reminder of all that was at stake here.
Bridget carried the cake and Per a frosty glass of lemonade. They approached the door, looked at each other and Per knocked. Nothing happened. She knocked again. Still nothing. Per sighed. Bridget calmly set the cake down on a wicker chair and pounded on the door hard enough to wake the devil. An angry shout came from within.
“Go away!”
Bridget looked at Per.
“I think he’s awake.”
Per grinned as Bridget picked up the cake, turned the door handle and walked into the cabin. The first thing Bridget noticed was how dark it was. The shutters were closed and it was like a cave. She set the cake on the dining table and barely looked at Karl, who was seated in a blue wing chair, his legs on an ottoman. She did notice he was unkempt, with a straggly beard and stringy hair. She turned and strode back to the front of the cabin, opening the shutters with a clatter.
The light streaming in illuminated dust everywhere and dirty clothes strewn around. She went to the kitchen to get a knife and plate for the cake and nearly gagged. The sink and counter were covered with dirty dishes, some of which were growing some colorful mold. As she searched for a clean knife and plate, she could hear Karl cursing and Per talking calmly. That must irritate the hell out of him.
She would need to set the cabin to rights, but that would have to wait until she could examine him and determine if she could alleviate his physical condition. She found a knife and had to wash and dry a plate. She returned to the living area, where Per was building a fire and Karl was scowling. Even in his disheveled appearance, with his foul expression, she could tell he was a handsome man. Mine.
She set the knife and plate down near the cake and lemonade and crossed her arms, waiting for Per to get the fire started. When her cousin rose, Bridget smiled. “Would you make the introduction?”
“Per smiled back. “Certainly. “Bridget O’Hara, may I present my brother-in-law, Karl Burgen. “Karl, this is Bridget, your fiancée.”
“Get out!” Karl yelled.
“That’s no way to…”
“I don’t want you here. I don’t want any of you here. Go back where you came from and leave me alone.”
Bridget sighed, hooking her arm with Per’s. “Let’s go.”
They left the cabin without another word or look toward Karl. Bridget hoped the odor of the cake would get to him and the lemonade would do its job. She determined to return in 30 minutes to see if her plan worked. Meanwhile she would change into breeches. She had some dirty work ahead of her.
* * *
“Do you need some help?” Per was changing Henry’s clothes after he had crawled in a patch of mud.
“I don’t think so. I’ll holler if I do.”
She picked up her bag of medical remedies and walked determinedly out the door, saying a little prayer that Karl would be deeply asleep and things would go well. She especially prayed for him to be healed, particularly in spirit. A part of her was frustrated with his surly attitude. A greater part, however, understood that the human spirit could only withstand so much adversity. The man was battered, and his constant pain was altering his personality. It was to his credit that he refused to take any drugs to assuage the pain. He could so easily have become addicted, which would have brought on a whole range of additional problems.
As she neared the cabin, her heart began to pound. How different would it all be if he hadn’t had the accident? The joyous Karl would be laughing as he carried her over the threshold. Now it was all she could do to lift her feet up the steps. She noticed he hadn’t bothered to close the shutters again and took that as a good sign that perhaps he was too lethargic from the laudanum.
She tentatively knocked on the door,
not expecting to hear a response. Oh-so-slowly she lifted the latch and opened the door. She was relieved to see that he was no longer in the chair. She didn’t see him at all, in fact. But she did notice he had eaten a slice of cake, and the lemonade glass was empty. She felt like pumping her fist in the air. A small victory. She would take what she could get. She was thankful he wasn’t in the chair. She needed him lying down to best examine him and wasn’t certain she would have been able to move him.
Feeling like she was entering a lion’s den, she walked off to the right, where the bedrooms must be. She didn’t think he would have climbed into the loft. She could see that someone—Karl? Per?—had gone to some trouble originally to decorate the cabin. The mantel held a little vase of dried flowers as well as some carved animals and a couple of porcelain figurines. On the walls of the hallway to the bedrooms were paintings of horses. The first looked like a herd of wild mustangs. The other one was a couple of cowboys riding their horses down a mountain trail. Kind of prophetic.
She reached the door to the first bedroom and peered inside. Karl, still fully dressed, was sprawled across the rumpled bed on his stomach, his arms splayed out to the side. Our bed. Everything in the room, including the pine bureau, matching armoire and the bedding, could stand a thorough washing. The large window was shuttered. The oval braided rug looked like it could use a good beating. As could Karl, most likely. She shook her head, stopping that evil thought in its tracks. She picked up several items of clothing and set them on the large padded chair near the fireplace. Some embers were still burning, so next she added some tinder and then a couple of logs to get the fire going. The laudanum should keep Karl out for at least a few hours, so she felt no compunction to hurry. She opened the shutters to provide as much light as possible and approached the unconscious man.
He wore tan trousers that had seen a better day. They were wrinkled and dirty, with fraying around the cuffs. His flannel shirt was brown and tan plaid. It was interesting that even in his despair he had color coordinated his outfit. She filed that information for future examination. His brown hair was long and stringy. He didn’t have a beard exactly but probably a week’s worth of hair growth on his chin, which meant he had shaved since his accident, or someone had shaved him.
Suddenly Bridget felt herself blushing as she realized she would have to strip him to study his wounds. Well, if she was going to marry the man, she was bound to see him naked then, so why not move up the timetable a bit? It’s all in a just cause. With that thought firmly embedded in her mind, she slowly turned him over and began unbuttoning his shirt. By the time she had removed all his clothes, she was sweating and breathing heavily. She convinced herself it was because of the hard work, not because he had possibly the most beautiful, taut, muscular body she had ever seen. Not that she had seen any naked men before. His man part, which was not standing at attention, she barely noticed. Keep telling yourself that, too.
The first thing she did after she was done perusing his entire body was to feel her way down his injured arm. It would be nice if he were awake to explain what sensations he felt and show her his range of movement, but she would take what she could get. She knew if he were awake, that wouldn’t be what he would be saying to her anyway. After a few minutes, she was pretty certain what the problem was in his arm. The bone had healed somewhat askew and was pinching a nerve, which affected his grip. The only fix she knew for that would be to re-break the arm and realign it. She was quite certain Karl would not like that idea, especially since he had no reason to trust her medical expertise, but she felt confident it would alleviate the problem if she could align the bone correctly.
Then she studied his leg in depth. The bone had healed properly, she was relieved to see. The problem seemed to be a weakness in the muscle from inactivity. If he had only hurt his leg, Karl probably could have overcome that and put the work into strengthening the muscle. His injuries together, however, including the broken ribs, must have just overwhelmed him, both with pain and inactivity. Women were better at staying still, not that she enjoyed that much. But men like Karl needed to be doing something, creating something, growing something. And without that, he felt beaten down and less than a man.
Well, lucky for him Bridget was here now. She applied some herbs to numb his areas of pain and re-splinted his arm and leg. Then she struggled to put the bonny Karl under the covers. She would like to be a fly on the wall when he woke up and found himself naked. She grinned. Since she still had at least a couple of hours before he woke, she decided to tackle first the kitchen, then the rest of the cabin. When he awoke, maybe Karl would think a fairy had been here.
Chapter 2
The devil had been in his cabin and he was angry about it. Even in his despair, Karl knew he was being unreasonable to be upset that someone cleaned his cabin, but he was unapologetic about his ire. If he wasn’t furious, he thought he’d go crazy instead. Per and Gus and his ex-fiancée needed to keep the hell out of his cabin and leave him alone. Maybe he would work through his pain and misery and maybe he wouldn’t. But no one could understand what it felt like to be him.
Everything hurt. Not just his arm and leg and ribs. He felt battered inside and out. And no one could help him. A week after the accident Gus had finally tracked down the doctor. The man wanted to drug him and bleed him. Karl became so unruly Gus had no choice but to usher the physician out. He was red-faced and sputtering, promising dire results if Karl didn’t follow his regimen. So be it as long as that sawbones never returned. His pain was his and his alone.
As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, today Karl’s head throbbed in addition to his other aches and pains. Sometimes he wished he could drown himself in whatever drugs took pain away, but he had watched a dear friend deteriorate and die from opium addiction and swore he would never take a drug.
As he painstakingly dressed, he noticed his clothes were clean. How had he slept through someone doing his laundry? And who had stripped him? Once he managed to get his socks on, no small task with the weak leg, he limped out into the main room, wincing at the pain he felt with each step. The shutters were still open, and he could see it must be dawn. Being immobile certainly played with one’s sense of time. The cake—at least he assumed it was the cake—sat on the dining table wrapped in paper. The lemonade glass was gone.
He limped into the kitchen and felt absolute rage. The room sparkled. There was not a dish, a fork, a pan in sight. The counters gleamed. The floor didn’t stick. It had to be either Per or Bridget who had invaded his space and desecrated it. How could he have not heard anything? It didn’t make sense. And then he knew and wanted to throw up. They had drugged him. That explained the headache. If he had anywhere to go, he would have left right then. He would never return to Baltimore to be pitied by his family, though. But how much longer did he want to be a drain on Gus and Per, living off them but not contributing anything?
He felt the dark thoughts coming in, the ones that told him he was useless, an encumbrance on society, a burden to his brother. He couldn’t ride, he couldn’t help out on the ranch, he couldn’t do a blessed thing anymore. One freak accident. If they had reached that trail one minute sooner or one minute later, it wouldn’t have happened. If the cougar had screamed one minute sooner or one minute later, it wouldn’t have happened. If they hadn’t gone up the mountain…
He was about to throw something if he could find something to throw when the door to his cabin opened. No knock, just thrust open. He turned to give the intruder a vicious send-off and stopped. Bridget stood in the doorway, her long hair twisted into a braid that trailed over her shoulder and across a breast. Her hair was a deep, deep red, a color he couldn’t remember ever seeing. There was no doubt she was an attractive woman, if he cared about such things anymore, which he most assuredly did not. It seemed as if none of his body parts worked anymore. He wouldn’t be surprised if that one didn’t either.
It was her eyes that he noticed most. They were a stunning blue and absolutely fi
erce at the moment. This was a woman on a mission. That was just too damn bad. He was not going to be anybody’s mission and she could just take her baby blue eyes and svelte body back to Pennsylvania.
“Oh, good, you’re up.”
“Get out.”
She put her hands on her hips. “That gets tiresome, you know. Of course you’re in pain and worried about your future and feeling frustrated, but you should let people help you. And quit insulting them.”
“Am I going to have to throw you out? I told you, I don’t want you here.”
She laughed. The annoying woman laughed.
“I don’t think you could in your present condition. You’d have to catch me first.”
She reached down and picked up a bag she had set down. He hadn’t even noticed it before.
“I brought some things to fix you breakfast. Would you like me to build up the fire first?”
He approached her, with his most menacing look on his face. “What don’t you understand about my order to leave?”
She sighed dramatically and walked right past him into the kitchen. “I brought bacon and eggs. I wasn’t sure if you had them. Oh, and strawberries. I love strawberries, don’t you?”
Now he turned around and limped toward the kitchen. “Are you simple-minded or something?”
She laughed again. “I’m something, for sure and certain. You will never meet anyone more stubborn than me, Karl Burgen. So just make up your mind that you’re going to have a good breakfast. Then we need to talk.”
He had never touched a woman in anger in his life, but he was very close to manhandling this baggage. He was outraged that she wouldn’t listen to him and angry that she was everything he had hoped she would be—beautiful and spirited and determined. And most of all, he was upset because he could never have her. He was no longer the man she had written to and made plans with. The sooner she realized that, the better.