Chapter Five
Freddie was awoken by Nick asking. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
He stepped into the room. He was wearing brown pants and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and looked hot and dusty.
“Could I have a drink of water please?”
“Yes, just give me a few minutes to wash my hands.”
He certainly didn’t waste words. This man was a stranger who had torn off her dirty clothing and put a nightgown on her. Long haired and bearded, he obviously didn’t care about his own appearance.
He returned carrying a cup of water.
“Can you sit up?”
She nodded and struggled to get into an upright position. He placed the cup on the dresser and stepped over to help her, pushing a second pillow behind her back. Her shoulder and ribs hurt although the pain was bearable now.
Her hands trembled so much as she took the cup, and he guided it to her lips. What bliss feeling the tepid water trickling down her parched throat.
“Not too much at once, or you’ll make yourself ill. A few mouthfuls at a time would be best.”
“Thank you, I owe you my life.”
He nodded. “As soon as you’re able to, you’ll have to leave here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to be alone.” His eyes were bleak. “I hate people.”
She gasped in shock, and pain shot through her ribs. “What’s your last name, Nick?”
“Brown.” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “I haven’t said that in a long time. How about some food? You need to build up your strength.”
“So you can get rid of me.”
“Yeah.”
She wondered why it hurt so much that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her, “What if I don’t have anywhere to go?”
“You do. Who’s Billy?” He stared intently at her.
“My brother.”
He grunted something and pursed his lips.
“Billy was with me when we were attacked.” She told him what had happened.
“Sonofabitch, you were lucky to survive.” Pity darkened his eyes.
“If it hadn’t been for you I’d be dead.”
“The world is an evil place, which I don’t want to be part of.”
“Not everyone is bad.”
“Most people I’ve met are.”
How sad for him to feel this way. In the past he had obviously suffered a deep hurt.
“I’ve only got beans. I’ll get you some. Cold all right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He stepped away from the bed. “Your brother has probably got a posse out searching for you by now.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? He’d know the area where you were attacked.”
“He probably won’t remember.”
“Don’t lie to me. If he was with you, he’d….”
“Billy isn’t like other people, um, he…” she swallowed several times. It made her sad every time she thought of what had happened to her big brother. “He was injured in the head at Gettysburg. He’s well….”
“That place was hell on earth.”
“You were there?”
“Yeah. I’ll get the beans.”
She leaned back on the pillows. Gettysburg. It explained a lot about him. It would account for him living a solitary existence. What business of mine is it to question how he lives?
He returned holding a spoon and a tin plate with a small amount of beans on it.
“I don’t use crockery,” he admitted, looking almost shamefaced.
If only he would cut his hair and beard he would be a handsome man. Are you loco Freddie Guilford? Why should you care what he looks like?
Her right hand was virtually useless, so she had to use her left one. As she struggled to scoop the beans on to the spoon he frowned. “Here, let me help. You’re obviously right handed.”
After four mouthfuls she shook her head.
“You haven’t eaten much, you need to regain your strength.
“So you can get rid of me?”
“Yeah. Think of your reputation,” he sneered.
“Too late. What is there left of me to see?”
“Very little. You’re a fine-looking gal Freddie Guilford. All of you.”
She didn’t know whether to take it as a compliment or not and was too exhausted to fathom it out.
“You’re as white as a ghost,” he suddenly said. “You need rest.”
“I know you can’t wait to get rid of me.” She struggled down in the bed and closed her eyes.
Nick tiptoed out of the room wishing he had never clapped eyes on Freddie Guilford; a man wasn’t made of stone. It surprised him that he could be attracted to a woman after years of celibacy.
He stalked outside. The quicker he got rid of her the better. She was dangerous, made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Smooth white skin, creamy breasts with those rosy tips made him want to suckle them. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her pretty blonde hair and ravish her mouth.
Nick picked up his axe and strode to the wood pile and attacked the logs with such ferocity one stroke split the first log in two, and the next and the next. Sweat poured out of his body wetting his shirt. He ripped it off and threw it on the hitching rail he used as a washing line. Hell and damnation.
Finally, he became so exhausted he had to stop. His arms were slick with sweat, beads of moisture clung to his chest hair. It was sheer madness carrying on like this in the heat especially without a hat. He sat with his back against the outhouse wall with his knees drawn up.
If Freddie was not fit enough to ride into Boynton, the nearest town, he could go there alone and telegraph the sheriff at Guilford Crossing. If he was prepared to hang around town for a couple of hours he might get an answer. He could then arrange a time to hand Freddie over in Boynton. It was a perfect plan. So why didn’t he feel good about it?
He collected the logs he had split and carried them to the back porch and dumped them in his wood box. It took three trips to gather them up. He had sure cut a lot, a testament to his, was it anger? He wasn’t real sure what it was.
Hopefully, Freddie would be well enough to attend to her feminine needs. She would be mortified when she realized what he’d had to do, any decent woman would be.
He was going to have his usual beans for supper. Maybe he could make pancakes. There was still enough flour to make up a batch. He had actually felt ashamed serving her cold beans. He poked up the fire.
Something made him glance up. Freddie stood on the porch with her good arm wrapped around the post. Before his eyes she started to slowly crumple. He leapt over and caught her before she sank to the ground.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“I needed to go to the outhouse.”
“I could have taken you.”
“How?”
“I’d have carried you like I’m going to do now. You can’t walk on the ground; your feet are already lacerated.”
He picked her up and strode toward the outhouse, had she been a man she could have gone behind a bush. He felt the heat of her body against his bare chest. Tarnation, surely she wasn’t coming down with a fever? He had been very careful about keeping her wounds clean.
Her arm went around his neck and he was shocked at his body’s reaction. He felt as if a lightning bolt had shot through him. He nudged the outhouse door open with his knee. “Yell out when you’re finished and I’ll come and get you.”
“Thank you, Nick.”
She sounded so weak and drained of energy he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Freddie Guilford had plenty of guts, he grudgingly admired her for it. In fact, he admired a lot about her. All the more reason he had to get her out of his life as quickly as possible.
If she could get herself out on to the porch, she would be well enough to be left alone while he rode to Boynton. He would leave water out for her and a few of the leftover pancakes he had
decided to make. He heard a sudden wail of distress.
“You all right?”
“Yes.” She didn’t sound too certain.
He waited, and waited. What the hell was she doing in there?
“Hurry up, I can’t stay here all day, I’ve got supper to cook.”
Freddie inched the door open and cautiously poked her head out. She had never been so embarrassed or mortified in her whole life now she realized exactly what Nick had to do for her. How could she face him? There was no choice, she felt so weak her legs could barely support her weight. No way could she make it back to the cabin on her own.
“I, um, I’m sorry. It must have been awful for you to, well to, you know.” Her cheeks heated up.
He shrugged. “I did what I had to.” He picked her up like she weighed nothing and strode toward the house.
“Why do you have such a long beard?”
“Because I can’t be bothered shaving, no-one to impress out here.” He shouldered the kitchen door open.
“Well, you must go into town sometimes.”
“Only when I have to, three or four times a year at most to get supplies.”
He deposited her on the bed and pulled the blanket up over her. Have a sleep and I’ll wake you up when supper’s ready. I’m cooking pancakes.”
“Nick.” She grabbed hold of his hand. “I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me.”
“Get better quickly and be on your way.”
She gasped at his harshness.
“That’s the best way to thank me.” He turned on his heel and left the room.
Tears filled her eyes at such cruelty, she hadn’t realized he hated her so much. Her ribs weren’t broken or she would still be in excruciating pain. They only hurt if she took a deep breath or moved suddenly, although her shoulder still ached. It was a deep gnawing pain that was debilitating.
Her eyes could now almost open fully as the swelling had subsided. She must look dreadful. She certainly felt it.
What had made Nick so bitter and full of hatred toward his fellow man? He’d said his wife had been murdered. How? When? Years ago he had said. Before he went off to the war or after it?
She glanced around the room. It was a good size. There were threadbare curtains at the window, bare boards on the floor. The mattress looked and smelled clean as if he aired it off, although there were no sheets.
Nick had two sides to him, a sad, lonely, but compassionate man who could have left her to die on that hillside, yet chose not to. The other side of him was dark, brooding and harsh. Who was the real Nick Brown? She couldn’t think about it anymore, it was just too hard.
Had Billy made it home? He was resilient in his own way, and sometimes surprised her with the things he did. He was a good horseman and teamster. At first glance people would see a tall, strapping young man. It was only on closer inspection they would notice the blankness in his eyes.
Alfie and Alex would miss her. Pa probably not, except for the work she did. The three girls had shared the household chores as Pa thought it beneath a man to do such menial work. Her head was now pounding, she was obviously not up to doing much thinking right now.
Chapter Six
The morning sun streaming through the tattered curtains woke Freddie. She blinked a few times to focus her eyes. The place was silent. Nick was probably off doing the ranch chores.
A piece of white paper sticking out of one of the drawers in the dresser caught her eye. Gingerly she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed without feeling the excruciating pain in her ribs. Her feet hit the floor with a slight thud.
I’m much better she thought stepping over to the dresser. At least her legs weren’t shaking anymore. The writing was neat, the message short and to the point.
Gone into town to Telegraph Office and to buy supplies. Back in time to get supper. Nick.
He had left her alone and unprotected. What had she expected? He would ask her if she felt well enough to go with him? She wondered whether the face and head punches had sent her loco.
She hated herself for doing it, but this was her chance to try and find out more about him. The top drawer of the dresser contained a couple of his shirts, quite neatly folded, also a pair of pants, socks and drawers. He obviously didn’t care too much about what he wore. A bit like her, as clothes had never bothered her overmuch.
Feeling like a lowdown skunk she rifled through his belongings, it didn’t stop her, though. The other drawers were full of female garments all neatly folded. There was a slight smell of lavender.
The dresser was oriental in style. Could his wife have been Chinese? There was a blue skirt and blouse, and a brown floral dress with a white collar. They were the only European outer clothing there.
Carefully she closed the drawer and stepped back. Instead of appeasing her curiosity it was heightened even more. A trunk under the bed held sheets and towels.
Freddie wandered out into the kitchen, thankfully her lacerated feet were no longer painful. By the look of it, the stove hadn’t been used in years. He must do all his cooking outside.
She inspected the contents of the pine kitchen dresser. A few pieces of crockery were pushed to the back, with a couple of tin plates and cups at the front. Several items of cutlery lay in a flat wooden box. He certainly lived the simple life.
The back porch contained an old rocking chair and a large wood box. One end of the porch had been closed in. Peeking inside this makeshift room she spied a tin bath. A barn and corral were visible from the cabin. A dozen or so chickens scratched around in a neatly constructed enclosure. If nothing else, Nick was a well-organized man.
A terrible way to live in her opinion, out here all alone, shunning people. She wasn’t a very outgoing person herself, but did like company from time to time.
Their house at the back of the freight building wasn’t anything much. Alfie had made checkered curtains and quilts for the beds. Pa and Alfie had fought about having lace curtains on some of the windows. Useless feminine frippery he used to say. In the end Alex had got them to compromise, and Pa grudgingly agreed to gingham curtains. The same color throughout the house, though.
He would only ever make small concessions as he thought all women were stupid and useless, and treated them accordingly. If it wasn’t for us girls he wouldn’t have a freight business.
She couldn’t walk around in a nightgown in a man’s house, it wasn’t decent, shouldn’t even be here without another woman being present, either. Her reputation would be ruined if anyone found out. How foolish was she? No-one came here. Unless Nick mentioned it, which was unlikely, no-one would ever know.
She sat in the rocking chair nibbling on a left-over pancake from last night. Her pants and coat were dumped in a corner of the porch. By the looks of them they wouldn’t be fit to wear. Maybe she could fashion a pair of shoes out of them. She needed something on her feet as the path to the outhouse had too many small stones to risk trying to get there in bare feet. It was doubtful Nick would continue carrying her now she had regained some strength.
He was hell bent on getting rid of her, so he certainly wouldn’t make life here easy for her.
****
Nick drove into Everton on his way into town. It wasn’t too far out of his way. The place was even more derelict than he remembered from last time he passed through several months ago. Freddie had mentioned the outlaws had taken her boots and Winchester. If he could find them she could take them with her when he sent her packing.
He swore under his breath for letting her get under his skin. She was a pretty gal now the swelling had gone down, he would have to be blind not to see it. He was a flesh and blood man, not a granite statue, and it would be unnatural if he didn’t notice. Working until he was exhausted, and whiskey usually took care of his male urges, that’s why she had to leave quickly. There was no place for a woman in his life now.
A small shop near the saloon was where she’d said they had kept her prisoner. He drove do
wn the main street, noticing most of the sidewalk had rotted away. He didn’t bother tying up the horses when he climbed down, just put the brake on. He wouldn’t be long.
Glancing at the rough fireplace the men had built he saw a couple of empty tins. No sign of the Winchester, although a pair of boots lay on the ground. He picked them up. They were well worn and small in size. Freddie had small, dainty feet like Li had had. The two women were about the same size except Freddie was a couple of inches taller. Nothing else unusual caught his eye as he strode back to his wagon.
****
On arrival in Boynton, he drove down the main street looking neither to the left nor right. It was a small bustling town, and he never stayed longer than what it took to do his banking and buy supplies. Occasionally, if the place was quiet he might lunch at the diner.
He left the wagon outside the general store and strode down to the Telegraph Office. Would he see the sheriff and tell him what had happened to Freddie, he debated as he strode along. What could the law do? The outlaws would be long gone, and he didn’t want to have to bring Freddie into town to see the sheriff, worse still, the sheriff might want to go out to the ranch. Better to forget it ever happened. If he got Freddie’s father to collect her his conscience would be clear.
A pasty-faced clerk stood behind the counter in the Telegraph Office. “I need to send an urgent message to Sam Guilford in Guilford Crossing.”
“Write down what you want to say.” The youth handed him a piece of paper and a pencil.
Nick had decided to send it direct to Freddie’s father. It wouldn’t take long for the Guilford Crossing Telegraph Office to deliver it as the freight depot was at the edge of town, he recalled from when he was there as a boy. By the time he purchased his supplies, and had lunch at the diner he might even have a reply. He didn’t mind going to the diner as the middle-aged woman who owned it never tried to involve him in idle chatter. She always seated him at a table in a back corner, facing away from the entrance.
“Send this. Urgent.” Freddie injured but safe in Boynton. When can you come and collect her? Nick Brown.
Freddie Page 3