Desperate Hearts

by Rosanne Bittner

  “…left Hugh Wiley and Jake Snyder chained to an overturned stagecoach about ninety minutes south of here. I shot and killed three other men with them. One was Henry Wiley, Hugh’s brother. Don’t know who the other two were.”

  The crowd broke into a din of questions, and it was obvious they all knew the two men Mitch mentioned.

  “Hugh and Henry have more brothers, Mitch. They’ll be comin’ after you.”

  “Let them come.”

  “Why in hell did you leave Wiley and Snyder out there?” another man asked, seeming angry. “Hugh is my good friend.”

  “Bobby, he turned out to be a goddamn killer and thief,” Mitch answered. “He and his brother and the rest of them attacked the stage for the bank money it was carrying. Killed Billy and Juno outright and caused the stage to overturn. This woman says that’s what killed Whiskers. The other passenger was shot in the head, and the lady here is hurt.”

  The crowd broke into shouts, fists raised, some men spouting their disbelief that Hugh and Jake would do such a thing, all angry that it had happened. Mitch walked over to Elizabeth, taking her arm. He looked pale and weak, yet Elizabeth felt comforted by the surprising strength in his grip.

  “This lady is hurt and I’ve been shot,” he shouted. “Anybody wants to be angry that I left Hugh and Jake out there, know that it’s because I didn’t have much choice. I had to get help for both me and this lady. I wasn’t in any shape to tangle with those two killers all the way back to Alder. They’re handcuffed to a wagon wheel. Some of you can go out there and get them and bring them in along with the other bodies. Throw Hugh and Jake into jail till we can have a trial!”

  Now the crowd was in an uproar. Some of the men ran to get horses. They rode off shouting and whooping in excitement. Others were actually celebrating the fact that there would be a trial and probably a hanging. Men continued to stare at Elizabeth, several mentioning she was the “prettiest woman ever to step foot in Alder.”

  “Hope you’re lookin’ for a husband!” one man told her with a toothless grin.

  “Hell, I’d rather she came out here to join up with Hildy and the girls!” another whooped.

  There followed laughs and whistles.

  “Leave her be!” Mitch ordered.

  Most of them sobered somewhat and backed away. Mitch ordered the only decently clean man she’d seen among them to grab the money box and make sure it got to the bank. Mitch called the man Randy, and Elizabeth noticed he wore a gun belt. He looked younger than Mitch, and Elizabeth could see by the way he looked at Mitch that he totally respected the man and was eager to obey.

  “Yes, sir!” he answered, tipping his hat to Elizabeth before hurrying away to untie the cash box. Elizabeth wondered if he was some kind of deputy.

  Other men were untying and lifting down the bodies of the two drivers. Everything was chaos and commotion, and Elizabeth was grateful for Mitch’s presence. He ordered men out of the way as he led Elizabeth up a couple of sagging wooden steps to a small front porch on the front of the log cabin.

  “You men keep away from this woman.”

  “She a prostitute?” one man asked.

  Elizabeth cringed. Was that all these men thought about?

  “No!” Mitch turned and shouted at the crowd. “Everybody quiet down!” He looked down at Elizabeth, and she was surprised at the wisp of kindness she saw in his startling blue eyes. “Go on inside. Doc Wilson will help you.”

  Elizabeth blindly obeyed, hearing Mitch giving orders for someone to leave her bags on the doorstep and go see if Ma Kelly had a room for her. Inside the doctor’s office she was met by a bearded man with shaggy, graying hair who introduced himself as Doc Wilson. Nearby a man lay asleep on a cot, an ugly bruise on the side of his face. Elizabeth realized it must be the man who’d been kicked by his horse.

  Mitch came in behind her and closed the door, then walked over to sink into a rocker, wincing with pain as he did so. “I’m shot, Doc. Just a flesh wound, but I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  “Get over to that other cot and lie down,” the doctor answered. He was a short man, his brown eyes kind. “Ma’am, you look pale and hurt.”

  “I’m in better shape than Mr. Brady. Tend to him first. I’m mostly tired and shaken and in bad need of some sleep.”

  “Well, you sit down there in that rocker, then, and I’ll tend to Mitch,” the man answered.

  Mitch got up and walked over to a second cot, where he all but collapsed, still wearing his boots and guns. Elizabeth took his place in the rocker.

  “Get these weapons off,” the doctor ordered Mitch, helping him unbuckle the gun belt at his waist and the bandoliers across his chest. “You wear enough weapons to fight an Indian war.” He dropped Mitch’s gear to the floor and helped Mitch get off his vest and shirt. Elizabeth quickly looked away, flustered by Mitch’s muscles, broad shoulders, and hard-looking stomach. She felt uncomfortable seeing a near stranger with his shirt off. When she wrapped his wound, she’d done it all with his shirt still on.

  Mitch vented a string of cuss words when the doctor dashed his wound with whiskey. “I’ll have to take a few stitches,” he told Mitch. “It’s not going to be fun for you.”

  “I’ve been through it more than once,” Mitch answered.

  Doc Wilson reached over to a table and grasped a small brown bottle, handing it to Mitch. “Here. Drink some laudanum and it will lessen the pain and help you sleep afterward. And watch your cussing around the lady.”

  Elizabeth stared at the blood on her dress while Mitch growled and grimaced as the doctor cleaned his wound more, then pulled catgut through the ugly rip in his side to close it up. She grimaced, feeling sorry for how much the stitches must hurt. She wondered at the kind of life Mitch Brady led.

  She remembered the necklace then. Ignoring the pain it brought her, she reached inside the bosom of her dress and camisole while the doctor kept his attention on stitching up his patient. Making sure no one was looking, and glancing over to see that the other patient appeared to still be asleep, she pulled out the necklace. On the trip here she’d insisted on keeping her drawstring handbag with her because it contained most of the money she had. Quickly she pulled open the handbag and slipped the necklace inside.

  She clung to the bag then, part of her terrified and wanting to cry, part of her glad she’d made it here, surviving a long, lonely journey all on her own, surviving an outlaw attack, and holding herself proudly against the prying eyes of the men outside. She could still hear shouts, as well as piano music coming from the nearby saloon, along with laughter and a couple of gunshots.

  She watched Mitch Brady slug down more laudanum. Rough and rugged and ruthless as he was, he was apparently, for the time being, her only friend and protector…maybe. She’d know more when he was back to one hundred percent health. Realizing that the only person she could rely on for now was a triple-gun-toting lawman who shot men in the back and thought nothing of hangings was not terribly comforting.

  So…this was Alder, Montana. The ad she’d read in a newspaper back East gave no clue as to what this place was really like, but she was here now, and somehow she’d find a way to stay without losing her sanity…or her dignity.

  Four

  Doc Wilson pulled a blanket over Mitch, leaving his bare arms and shoulders exposed. “Too hot to cover him all the way up, but I expect you don’t want to be looking at a man’s half-naked body,” he remarked. He bent down and retrieved the bloody pieces of what once was part of Elizabeth’s petticoat, then turned to face her. “I’ll have to throw these out.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “That’s fine. What would I do with them now?”

  The doctor looked her over curiously.

  Elizabeth sighed. “To answer your question, no, I’m not a prostitute, and I’m not here to marry anyone.”

  The doctor grinned and nodded. “I’ll tend to you in jus
t a minute.” He picked up a bowl of bloody water. “Got to get rid of this stuff.” He started out, then hesitated. “By the way, thanks for wrapping that wound. Mitch might have bled to death if you hadn’t, not that there aren’t a few men on the wrong side of the tracks who would celebrate. But most of us do care about that big lug. He keeps some sense of law around here.”

  Doc Wilson went out the back door, and Elizabeth stared at Mitch, wondering if he was sleeping or simply passed out. She supposed he could even still die, maybe of infection. What if he did? How strange it was that she cared…that she felt as long as Mitch Brady was around, she’d be okay. She glanced at the other patient, also still asleep, or then again, maybe just passed out from too much laudanum.

  She closed her eyes and took a moment to enjoy the sudden quiet after the rough, rocking trip topped off with shooting and murder and mayhem. She ached from the long ride astride a big horse, let alone her injuries. She was glad to be in here, away from prying eyes and too many questions, shouts, and laughter and whoops and men riding off to the scene of the robbery to retrieve dead bodies and two outlaws stripped to their underwear and chained to a wagon wheel.

  Doc Wilson came back inside. Elizabeth realized then that he was the first man she’d seen who wore a suit, although it looked as though it had been worn too long without a cleaning. His brown eyes looked very tired, but at least they showed kindness, and there was an air about him that made Elizabeth suspect he really was an intelligent man who truly did know what he was doing. From what she’d observed so far, one had to wonder about the truth behind every person here. Just as they should all wonder about me.

  Doc Wilson came closer and pulled up a chair in front of her. “Now, tell me about your injuries. Is there anything I can do besides just give you something for pain? Any bleeding, broken bones that you think you might have? You look pretty bruised up.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I think I just need a bath and some sleep. Mitch set my shoulder—said it was out of place. I don’t know if he knew what he was talking about.”

  “Mind if I feel around it?”

  “Go ahead.”

  The doctor plied her shoulder and she winced, but it did feel better than when Mitch first touched it after the accident.

  “Feels like it’s in place, but once you have an injury like this, it’s going to feel like someone stuck a hot iron into your shoulder joint off and on for a while. I certainly wouldn’t sleep on that side.” He felt down her arms. “How about the ribs?”

  “It’s just the shoulder and bruises.” Elizabeth almost felt like crying at the doctor’s kind touch and concern. She wondered what in the world brought him to a place like Alder, Montana. “Where should I go now?” she asked. “I need a place to stay.”

  Doc Wilson rose and walked over to a table to pick up a bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a shot. “I have a spare room with no patients in it for now. I’d like you to stay one night so I can keep an eye on you—make sure there isn’t something wrong you haven’t noticed yet. That happens sometimes after an accident. You wake up with a foot you didn’t even know was broken, internal injuries you didn’t realize you had, things like that. I just want to be sure.” He drank down the shot. “Besides, with two injured men here, I can’t accompany you to the boardinghouse and help you get settled. You sure don’t want to be wandering alone out there amid that bunch of woman-hungry no-goods. A woman like you needs someone to accompany her at first in a place like this, and I suspect Mitch is the one who’ll be doing it. I heard him telling those clowns out there to back away and leave you be.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “He certainly is an unusual man. He killed three men back there as though they were nothing but target practice, yet then he was very kind to me. He was so ruthless at first that I thought he was an outlaw, too.”

  Doc Wilson grinned. “Some say he’s no better than one, but he has his reasons for his behavior.” He nodded toward the door. “Most of the men out there are basically good, too, miss. They just get a little eager when they see a beautiful woman come to town. Most of them are pretty lonely…prospectors who spend weeks up in the mountains looking for treasure. Some even have families back East somewhere.” He sighed and poured himself one more shot of whiskey. “I’ll have Lee Wong and his family bring over a tin tub and some buckets of hot water and you can take a bath and get some sleep.”

  “Lee Wong?”

  The man slugged down the second shot. “Chinese family. They own the town laundry and bathhouse. His wife speaks very little English, but she’s kind and accommodating. She’ll help you out. She’s the kind who doesn’t need to understand English to know what you need.” He held up the whiskey bottle. “Might you be needing a drink?”

  “No, thank you, not unless you have hot water and tea and a strainer.”

  The doctor chuckled. “No, but I can send for that, too. There is a restaurant two doors down. Some folks figure it’s a dare to eat there. They swear the steaks are made from horse meat, but I figure you can’t go wrong with tea. And they do make good biscuits. I think you ought to have a couple with some jam or something—get something into your stomach.”

  “That would be very welcome.”

  The doctor frowned. “I don’t recollect you or Mitch telling me your name.”

  “Elizabeth Wainright.”

  Doc Wilson nodded. “Well, Miss Wainright, you seem like an educated lady who surely came from better places than Alder. I know good breeding when I see it, and that dress you’re wearing speaks of a fancy store or dressmaker back East; but then, I’ve learned it’s best not to pry into other people’s business. A lot of men here, as well as the, uh, women who live above the saloons, have unknown backgrounds and nobody cares. You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

  Elizabeth pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s like you said—it’s not my business.”

  “Well, to reassure you, I really am a doctor. Went to school at the University of Michigan and got my degree. Did pretty well till…” He looked away and poured yet another shot of whiskey. “Till I couldn’t save my little girl after she was run over by a wagon. And just months later my wife and son died of cholera and I couldn’t save them either.” He slugged down the third shot, then held up the shot glass. “I took solace in this stuff for a while, until I woke up in an alley beat up and my money gone. I decided then that I had to just get away from all things familiar. I didn’t even do any doctoring for a while, but then I guess it’s in my blood, so I came to a place where most folks don’t care all that much about each other. Figure if I lose a patient here it won’t hurt quite so much. Know what I mean?”

  Elizabeth saw the tragedy in his eyes. “Actually I do, Dr. Wilson. I’ve had some personal sorrow of my own that made me want to get away. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He nodded. “I can see you are. Thank you.”

  Mitch stirred and moaned, and Elizabeth glanced at him. Even lying on a cot he looked huge, muscled shoulders and arms exposed, his still-booted feet hanging off the end of the cot. “What do you know about Mitch Brady?” she asked.

  The doctor laughed and shook his head. “Only thing I know about Mitch is like I said—he has a good heart, but on the outside he’s a grizzly. He’s from back East, grew up in New York City.”

  Elizabeth’s heart quickened at the remark. How odd that Mitch Brady was from the same city she grew up in. She didn’t dare show her surprise.

  “According to what I’ve learned, he left New York years ago, only twelve years old or so. The rest is for him to tell if he wants. He’s bent on keeping the law around here, and most men know better than to mess with him. He’s good with fists and guns, and from what I can tell he knows no fear. He came to town one day as a prospector, but that didn’t work out. Then one night a man beat on one of the town prostitutes pretty bad. Mitch kind of went berserk and beat the man half to death. O
nce everybody saw how Mitch can handle himself in a fight…well…” He chuckled. “After that, men grew to respect him, and we had a big town meeting and decided to officially make him our sheriff. Since then he’s also joined the vigilantes and roams the road coming into town from Virginia City when he knows there is money on the stage. Lucky for you that’s what he did today, or your ending might have been a lot different.”

  Elizabeth’s curiosity over Mitch was growing. “Yes, I suppose it would have.” She glanced at the whiskey bottle. The doctor noticed her concern and set it aside.

  “You don’t have to worry about my drinking, Miss Wainright. I no longer drink until I end up in an alley. I know when to quit.” He pointed to a doorway at the back of the room. “That’s the only extra room in this poor excuse for a hospital. Go on inside and rest, and I’ll get your tea and have Lee Wong come over here so you can clean up. I’ll sleep out here on that extra cot in the corner. Tomorrow I’ll take you over to Ma Kelly’s boardinghouse. It’s nothing fancy. I suspect it’s a far cry from the hotels where you came from. Ma will put you up until you decide what you’re going to do here, or if you even intend to stay.” He looked her over. “I would buy myself a gun, Miss Wainright, and learn how to use it. Mitch can help you there. Most men around here hold a lot of respect for a proper lady, but the fact remains, there are bound to be others out there who will have a hard time looking at you without an ache in all the wrong places and no self-control.”

  Elizabeth reddened. “I will keep that in mind.”

  He walked to the door. “Knowing Mitch, he’ll keep an eye out for you once he’s up and around. He obviously already has.” He opened the door. “Oh, and be prepared for a big ruckus tonight and into tomorrow. That posse will be back in a while with those two outlaws, and there will likely be a trial and a hanging. Out here such things happen fast—no formalities. It doesn’t take long for men around here to make up their minds when someone tries to steal their whiskey money and kills their friends doing it. Ole Billy and Juno were well liked.”