After Eden

by Joyce Brandon

  The driver stopped the wagon in front of a one-story barracks. A sign overhead read HOSPITAL. From inside, men raced to respond to the driver’s yell. Grumbling, they came out with a stretcher. Their irritation at being disturbed dissipated at the sight of Tía. Clumsy and deferential, they were like little boys with an unexpected guest. Carefully, following Tía’s instructions, they loaded Judy onto the stretcher and carried her inside. When they lifted Morgan onto the stretcher he finally blacked out. With a helping hand from the buckboard driver, Tía scrambled down and followed them inside.

  Dr. Potter, a thin man with cold, dispassionate eyes, examined Judy quickly and carefully attended to Morgan Todd. Rutledge’s wounded soldiers began arriving on foot and on stretcher. Potter scowled at the ragtag collection of sloppily bandaged men, then looked back down at Morgan.

  “How long has he been bleeding like this?”

  “Since about ten o’clock tonight.” Tía bit her lip. “Can you do something?”

  “I can go in and tie off the bleeders, but he may be too far gone to survive it.” His completely indifferent response shocked Tía. How could he talk about a man dying with so little concern? Didn’t he care?

  “Then please do it,” she said.

  “I might as well,” Potter said irritably. “He can’t last this way.” He felt Morgan’s wrist again; his pulse was fast and thready. His chest barely moved. He hated gut wounds. He especially hated them at this time of night with a waiting room full of patients. Surgery was probably a waste of time, but the girl wouldn’t understand if he just put him in a bed with a bowl under it to catch the blood. The bastard was unconscious now and probably grateful for it. At last Potter straightened.

  “All right. I’ll operate. He’s pretty important to you, huh?”

  “Yes, both of them,” she said, pointing to Judy. Potter examined the girl again. He struck a match and watched her pupils. One contracted, the other didn’t. Concussion all right. He took her pulse and examined the cuts and bruises on her face and head.

  “Either a concussion or a cerebral hemorrhage from one of the blows to the head,” he said dispassionately.

  “Will she be all right?” Tía asked. Surely, if he knew what to call it, he should know how to save her.

  Potter shook his head. “I don’t know. It depends on too many things I don’t have any control over: how bad it is on the inside. I have no idea,” he said, his voice reflecting irritation.

  “But surely—”

  “There’s nothing I can do for her. But I will see what I can do for him. Keep him quiet. If he comes to, let one of my men know, and he’ll give him something for the pain. I’ll get back to him as soon as I can.”

  Tía was shaken by the man’s brusqueness. But at least he was going to help Morgan.

  She stayed until all the wounded had been treated and the surgery on Morgan Todd had been performed. Except for the snoring men, the hospital was quiet. Outside, the fort was quiet as well. Tía leaned over Judy’s still form, pressing a cool rag to her forehead. Potter walked tiredly into the middle of the barracks and stopped beside her.

  Frightened, Tía stood up. Her eyes searched the doctor’s tired face. “Is he?…”

  “He’s alive, but that’s all. I tied off everything I could find, mopped out what I could of the blood, and took out the bullet, but I have to tell you I lose more than I save in surgery.” Sighing, he shook his head and sat down on one of the beds. The soldier in the bed stirred slightly.

  “How awful for you,” Tía said softly.

  Surprised by her empathy, Potter looked quickly away. By the time he looked back, a layer of impersonal efficiency had peeled away. He looked very tired suddenly. “Get some rest if you can, miss. I’ll leave a man here to take care of them for you.”

  “I can stay.”

  “It’s not necessary. An orderly has to be here anyway.”

  Tía gathered up her things. “Thank you for trying.”

  Potter nodded and turned away.

  Tía fount Grant Foreman lying on a blanket just outside the hospital’s front door. She was tired and hungry and drained, but she stopped beside him. The eastern horizon was already a pale, pearly gray.

  “How are you doing?”

  Slowly, as if he were trying to hide how difficult it was for him to move, he sat up. “I’m okay. How’s Judy?”

  “The same.” Tía paused. She was wondering why he hadn’t been inside with Judy. It wasn’t like him to stay away when Judy was in need. Leaning back against the adobe wall, she slid down beside Grant.

  “I guess you and Judy talk a lot…you’re real close to her.”

  “What are you getting at?” Grant said suspiciously.

  “You’re Judy’s friend. I want you to stay with her and take care of her and Mr. Todd, too, if you will.”

  “Why? You going somewhere?”

  “If I tell you something in strictest secrecy, will you guard it with your life?”

  Grant’s gray eyes were level and clear. Looking into their depths, Tía knew she could trust him completely.

  “Better not trust me,” he said, looking away.

  Instinctively she ignored his warning. Leaning close, she whispered into his ear, “We’re going to break Johnny out of jail so we can go warn Steve.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. I just decided this minute to do it.”

  Grant searched her face and saw she was serious. He knew he should go to Rutledge and turn himself in before someone got hurt trying to break Johnny out of jail. “Well, if you need any help, let me know.”

  “You’re not well yourself. We’ll manage, if you’ll stay here and take care of them for us. Will you?”

  Avoiding Tía’s pleading eyes, Grant stared down at his feet. He wanted to stay near Judy. He would give anything if he could, but he didn’t have the right. Judy didn’t want him around anymore. She had deliberately tried to run him off. If he had any pride at all, he would ride away, except he couldn’t do that with good conscience. He had shot Morgan Todd for killing Judy, and he had kept silent when he’d found out they had arrested Johnny, partly because he resented the rotten way Johnny had treated Judy and partly because he was in shock from believing Judy dead. Now he knew he had to confess everything, but he couldn’t.

  “Grant, please?”

  Baffled, sick with his own hurt, Grant closed his eyes. Judy was like a sickness in him. Ever since he had seen her that first time, he had been infected. She had become a part of him—like the color of his eyes and the shape of his hands. He loved her so much that if he rode away, he would probably die of it. Now he had probably killed a man for her—two men if Johnny died—and if he confessed, he wouldn’t be there if Judy needed him. He would be in jail. Or hanged.

  “Grant, will you?”

  “Yes,” he said, ashamed of himself, his weakness.

  His fine gray eyes were bleak. Tía longed to do something for him, but she didn’t know of anything that would help.

  “Judy needs you now. She needs all of us. We can’t let her down.”

  Grant looked confused. “Why are you suddenly so concerned about Judy?”

  “Why not?” Tía asked, frowning.

  “We saw you kissing Johnny.”

  “I knew she saw us.”

  “It hurt her bad. Real bad.”

  A hard lump swelled in Tía’s throat. She looked away, avoiding his eyes. “I know.”

  Grant looked resigned. “I better go. Judy doesn’t like to be alone in the dark.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Hello, Captain.”

  Rutledge looked up to see Andrea Burkhart standing in his doorway, a warm smile on her pretty face.

  “What…oh…excuse me,” he said, coming to his feet. Hiding his confusion, he walked carefully around his desk. He had been in a daze ever since he’d found out Judy Burkhart had been hurt. Doc Potter had been little help. According to him, there was very little anyone could do for her;
she would wake up, or stay in a coma, or die.

  “Uh, yes, come in,” he stammered, pulling himself together. “Sit, please. You look amazingly well for all you’ve been through last night and this morning.”

  Smiling, Andrea swept her skirts aside as she seated herself in the chair he had offered her. “Why, thank you, Captain. I must say, you look even more important in your offfice.”

  Rutledge preened visibly. “I’m a collector, actually,” he said, waving his arm at the memorabilia from numerous campaigns. “But I’m sure you didn’t come here to admire my collection. What can I do for you?”

  “I need a favor. I have obtained the services of an attorney for my foreman. I would like permission for him to see Mr. Brago today.”

  “Today?” he asked, frowning. “There are no attorneys here. And at present no need for an attorney. I took the precaution of holding Brago, and I’ve every intention of sending word to Marshal Behan in Tombstone as soon as the Indians settle down, but there’ll be no trial here. The military has no jurisdiction to try Brago. That will be taken care of by the territorial authorities.”

  “I’m sure that’s all quite true, Captain, but it seemed to me that a good attorney could conduct the investigation on behalf of the accused. And I did happen onto an attorney. Are you acquainted with a Mr. Farraday, Captain?”

  “Farraday. Not Jethrow Farraday, surely?”

  “One and the same,” she said, hoping she sounded tremendously pleased with herself.

  “Excuse me, Miss Burkhart, but the man is disreputable. I hesitate to mention this, but Farraday was run out of Tombstone for public drunkenness. He only stopped here because his money ran out and he was forcibly ejected from the stagecoach. I would be remiss if I were not completely truthful in this regard. He is the last man in the world you should depend on if you are in need of an attorney.”

  Andrea lifted an elegantly curved brow, and Rutledge’s confusion deepened. She smiled.

  “But madam…if you wish to…” His words trailed off. He was hopelessly lost.

  With a shake of her head and a gesture of her hand, Andrea tossed her hair back. Now she was glad that they had not told Rutledge the truth about their switch. “The man is important to my housekeeper, Captain, not to me. The girl must be humored, but frankly, just between the two of us, Brago has been nothing but trouble since he arrived.”

  “Ahhh!” he breathed, settling back into his chair and allowing his admiration to show in his eyes. Here at last was a female after his own heart. Too bad Judy was not as discerning a judge of character as this one.

  “Ahem! Well! I will leave word at the stockade for them to admit Farraday whenever he is…umm…ready.”

  “Thank you, Captain. You have been most helpful,” she said, moving her reticule from her right hand to her left. They rose as one. Rutledge took her hand in his, leaned forward to press his lips against it, then bowed again, deeply. “My pleasure, Miss Burkhart. You show rare good sense for one so lovely and so young.”

  Andrea smiled her thanks. For one moment they were co-conspirators. Then she turned, her satin skirts rustling. “Oh, Captain, I forgot to mention that we will be leaving today.”

  The smile died on his lips. “Leaving? That’s hardly wise, Miss Burkhart,” he said stiffly, all soldier again.

  Andrea smiled graciously. “Please call me Andrea, Captain.” She sighed. “I know you are right, but my brother is in a great deal of danger. I will leave Grant Foreman here with Judy to see to her needs. The rest of us are going to try to intercept Steve. I would appreciate it very much if you could use your influence to delay Mr. Brago’s trial until we return.”

  Rutledge frowned. “As I’ve said, I have no authority in civil matters, Miss Burkhart. Of course, I have no idea when I will be able to notify Behan, nor when he may come for Mr. Brago. A great deal depends upon whether or not Mr. Todd dies. If he does, I’m sure the authorities will move rather quickly. The circuit judge has been known to respect my wishes on occasion. He may be willing to delay the trial if I asked him to, but I fear for your safety.”

  “Captain, we have reason to believe that the worst threat to my brother is not from Indians but from bandits.”

  “Bandits?”

  “El Gato Negro,” she said significantly.

  “Good God! El Gato Negro! Are you sure? Damnation! Every soldier in the territory would be put at your disposal if that were true. And if we were not already engaged on a more pressing campaign. Unfortunately Captain Rodgers needs every man jack of us here. The timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “I respect your problems, Captain. I only ask the same consideration for my own. My brother is in grave danger. We believe Mr. Sloan and his entire mule train were wiped out, every man killed. I do not want to risk a similar fate befalling my brother. I don’t suppose you would consider releasing Mr. Brago, just until we find Steve?”

  “Out of the question. I’m sorry,” he said.

  Disappointed, Andrea shrugged. “You know your job, I’m sure. Well, wish us luck?”

  “You’ll need more than luck, Miss Burkhart. You’ll need a miracle.”

  “Perhaps…”

  Rutledge shook his head. “Send the men, but do not go yourself. There is too much danger.”

  “I’m afraid I must go. With my foreman in jail there is no one else I trust to take charge.”

  “I see,” he said grudgingly.

  “Thank you, Captain. We will be heavily armed. Please do not worry. I have high hopes for our success.”

  “I wish I could share them.”

  Rutledge watched Andrea leave. He went personally to the stockade to give the instructions to admit Farraday whenever he presented himself.

  Andrea returned to the room she shared with Tía and found her sister awake and dressed after a six-hour nap. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes. I’m going to see about Judy and Mr. Todd.”

  “I was there an hour ago. No change.”

  “I know.” Tía sighed. “I just have to check.”

  “Meet me here soon. It’s almost time.”

  Morgan Todd was awake. His eyes were open and filled with anguish. Sweat beaded his face. His hands clenched and unclenched, only to clench again. Tía leaned close to him. “Have you been in pain long?”

  Morgan nodded.

  Tía found the orderly in a small office at the back of the ward and asked him to give Morgan something for pain.

  The orderly picked up a bottle of laudanum and followed Tía back to Morgan’s bed. Morgan sipped the bitter liquid, shuddered, and closed his eyes. The pain must have eased a little after a while because he flashed Tía a look of gratitude.

  Two dozen wounded men occupied the beds in the long barracks. For privacy Judy had been moved to the front of the ward next to the window. They had curtained off a small area around her bed with light canvas draped over ropes. Except where the bruises discolored it, her face was as white as the sheet covering her. Her breathing was almost imperceptible. Grant Foreman sat beside her, his face glum.

  “How’s Judy?”

  “Still breathing in and out.”

  “Why don’t you go get something to eat. I’ll stay with her for a while.”

  Grant remained motionless. Tía had lied about her identity, switched places with her sister to trick Judy, and kissed Judy’s man. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’ve been here a spell. I want to be alone with her for a few minutes, if you don’t mind,” she said firmly.

  Tía was his employer, and that sounded like an order. Grant hesitated. His job meant nothing to him, but he couldn’t believe she would hurt Judy. He stood up. “I’ll take a walk.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tía waited until Grant was out the door. She knelt beside the low bed and took Judy’s hand in both of hers. It felt dry and so limp it seemed boneless—so different from Judy’s usual vitality that a pang pierced Tía’s heart.

  “Judy, I know you can’t hear me,” she whispered,
“but I need to tell you something, because I feel bad. I’m sorry we tricked you. I didn’t set out to lie. It hurt my pride that you wanted to be shed of me, even before you met me.

  “I don’t know what to say about Johnny. I get a cramp around my heart every time I think about giving him up. I didn’t mean for it to happen, though.” Miserable, she shook her head. “I’ve never known people I cared so much about so sudden, both you and Johnny.”

  Tía leaned forward to press her lips against Judy’s warm cheek. “Morgan Todd loves you, too. He feels as bad as a cut wolf for hurting you. He came back that night to ask you to marry him. I don’t know why you’d want him, but it’s always nice to be asked. That’s what I heard, anyway.

  “I’m not saying this well at all. But I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I want you to get well. We’ve got a passel of things to talk about…when you can hear me…”

  Tía kissed Judy’s cheek and walked outside to join Andrea.

  Sergeant Stone looked up from the deck of cards he was shuffling, noticed the time on the wall clock, two o’clock, and put his cards down. Accompanied by a young man Stone didn’t know, a disheveled Jethrow Farraday dusted himself off, then aimed himself through the doorway. He crashed into the desk, straightened up, patted the lapels of his ancient frock coat, and clicked his heels together. “Mr. Jethrow Farraday to see my client, Mr. John Brago. My companion here has the unlikely name of Slick.”

  Farraday’s knees buckled. Slick—a tall, well-built rider with dark hair, heavy black brows and a mustache—caught him before he hit the floor. Rolling his eyes, Sergeant Stone shook his head at the soldier standing guard in front of the locked door, which opened into the corridor leading to the cell where Brago was being held.

  “You going to carry him into Brago’s cell, or should we just splash him under the door?” Stone asked, disgusted.

  His dark face lighting with mischief, Slick grinned. “I best pour him real gentle like if I want to keep my job.”

  “All right. This way.” Standing up, Stone motioned to the soldier to unlock the door. Passing through that, he led Farraday and his keeper down the short corridor to the holding area. He stopped in front of a cell where the prisoner was sprawled on a cot, ankles crossed, hands behind his head, hat over his face. Stone unlocked the door, and Farraday stumbled partway into the cell. Then, as if all his bones had dissolved, he fell face forward. Cursing, Slick leaped forward, caught him, and dragged him the rest of the way inside, saying, “Okay, lock it.” Lifting the skinny old man like a half-empty straw doll, he stood him in front of Brago.