by Sara Orwig
“Is it burning?” came Abby’s terrified cry.
“Get the wagon out!” Rachel snapped, rushing outside. Oscar beat at the flames with his shirt.
She raced to the water barrel and dipped in a bucket, running back to toss water on the flames. All the time she moved without thinking about what she was doing because only one thought ran through her mind. McKissick had Dan’s rifle, and Dan had never shown up tonight when he said he would.
In minutes it was over. Pa and Will came striding toward her. Abby rushed out of the barn to Will and he wrapped her in his arms.
“Josh, get the wagon back yonder where it usually stands and unhitch the team,” Eb ordered. He turned to Rachel. “We held him off and we still have a barn,” he said with grim satisfaction in his voice.
Rachel gazed up at Eb, hurting too much to talk, tears stinging her eyes. Her strength seemed to leave her and she felt waves of pain wash through her while tears brimmed over.
“Rachel, are you all right?” Eb asked.
She took a deep breath, struggling to even answer him. “Pa, I saw in the torchlight—Lyman McKissick was carrying Dan’s rifle.”
Eb frowned. “Rachel, it’s dark and there—”
“You remember the brass studs on the stock. It was Dan’s and I saw it plainly in the light of the flames.”
Eb looked stricken, staring at her a moment. “Honey, that may be,” he said in his whispery voice, “but wait until you know for sure.”
“I know. I know Dan said he would be here tonight”
“Oh, Lord, Rachel,” Eb said suddenly, his voice filled with hurt and pain. He stepped up to envelope her in his embrace. She stood crying silently, struggling to control her emotions, remembering the times as a little girl she had run to Pa’s arms and found reassurance and safety, but this time nothing would stop the hurt.
Finally she gained control and stepped back, wiping her eyes. “The men probably need you.”
He nodded and turned as a man called to him. Abby suddenly appeared and wrapped her arms around Rachel. “I heard what you said to Pa,” she said, hugging Rachel and crying. “Rachel, are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure! Dan’s not here and he said he would be.”
“Mrs. Johnson,” Will said quietly and she moved away from Abby to look at him. “I know Indians carry rifles all fancied up like that with silver and brass designs on the stock. It might be McKissick had someone else’s.”
She nodded, knowing Will was trying to be helpful, but all evening she had felt something was amiss and when Dan didn’t appear, she was certain of it. And she felt in her heart that McKissick had Dan’s rifle.
“Your Pa is a quiet man,” Will said, looking around him, “but he’s a hell—pardon me, he knows how to go to battle. I guess that’s one thing the war taught him. After tonight those coyotes will think twice before they try to get into this henhouse again!” Will moved away and she saw two of the men carrying a body between them.
Pa appeared and motioned to Rachel and she hurried to him. “We’ve got two wounded men. Get bandages and whiskey and let’s get them taken care of.”
“Pa,” she asked solemnly, “was anyone killed?”
“Yes,” he said, gazing over her head, “three of McKissick’s men. We’ll take the bodies to town to the authorities. We’ve got two injured and as soon as we get them bandaged, I’ll take them to town to be seen by a doctor.”
For the next hour Rachel was busy tending wounds. By the time dawn rose over the horizon, Pa and Oscar Nolan left in the wagon with the two wounded men and the three bodies.
As Rachel began to get ready to cook the men’s breakfast, Josh appeared before her, his face solemn and pale, a frown on his brow.
“Rachel, Pa says you think that Mr. McKissick…” Josh paused, wiping his nose. “He said you saw him with Dan’s rifle and you think he might have killed Dan to get it.”
She couldn’t bear to see Josh’s hurt and it made the loss seem even more frightful. She hugged Josh, struggling not to cry. “I might be wrong.”
“He was supposed to be here last night, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was.”
Josh turned and ran away, but not before she had heard his sob.
Three days later as she sat beneath in the shade of an oak, she braided rags to make a rug when Pa appeared in front of her.
“Rachel, I’m going to town. Come go along. We can ask about Dan and Abeyta will want to see you.”
She nodded perfunctorily. It had been three days since that night and she knew if Dan were alive he would be here. McKissick might as well have turned the rifle on her and pulled the trigger, because she felt as if all life had gone out of her. “Is Abby going?”
“Yes, she and Lissa. Josh will stay here.”
“Pa, do you think McKissick will return?”
“Yes, I do. Men like McKissick don’t give up easily. He had a bad loss and he won’t ride in so carelessly next time, but he’ll be back.”
“Will it be safe for Josh to stay behind?”
“I don’t think we’ll have another raid for a time. McKissick lost some men and I don’t think he’s accustomed to the kind of fight we gave him. From what I’ve heard in town, he usually tries this where he feels he’ll get what he wants.”
He draped his arm around her shoulders to give her a squeeze. “Honey, let’s go to town and see what we can learn. Dan had a room at the hotel that night we stayed at Abeyta’s.”
She nodded, feeling choked up and unable to answer, turning away to go look for Abby and Lissa.
She sat numbly through the long ride into town. Abeyta greeted them and as soon as Abby had taken Lissa upstairs to play with some of Abeyta’s dolls, Eb took Abeyta off to himself. When she returned, she crossed the room to Rachel to hug her.
“Mi niñita! Your father told me about Mr. Overton.”
Suddenly tears swamped her and Rachel gave vent to crying quietly while Abeyta cried as well and patted her shoulder.
Wiping her eyes, Abeyta leaned away. “Now your father and I will make inquiries. I know many people here. We will find out where he went when he left here.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said, at a loss to do anything because she knew what she felt in her heart.
“You come upstairs and Maria will draw you a cool bath and you relax and try not to worry while we see what we can learn.”
Rachel smiled at her. “Thank you. You’re good to us and so generous with us.”
Abeyta laughed softly. “Ah, love, you and your sister and your little one and Josh are a fine family. Your father is wonderful to me. I am doing what gives me happiness. Now come along.”
Rachel let Abeyta take charge and finally she was left alone with a tub of warm water. She soaked and bathed and dressed in new blue calico that Abeyta had made into a dress for her, knowing Abby and Lissa would also have new things.
She sat on the balcony in the shade, staring at the flowers below, lost in memories, unaware of the tears that streaked her cheeks.
When Pa rapped on her door and entered her room, she took one look at his face and knew what she felt was true.
He sat down near her and took her hand. “Honey, I’m sorry. I don’t have good news. Dan returned the buggy to the livery stable, and that’s the last time anyone has seen him. He did not check out of the hotel. His horse is still at the stable.”
She closed her eyes and pressed a wet linen handkerchief against them.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. You deserve so much,” Eb said, sounding pained.
She glanced at him and saw tears in his eyes as he pulled her to him to hug her. She sobbed, unable to control her emotions any longer. Dan’s loss hurt all over. It hurt with every breath and memories swirled in her mind constantly, adding to her pain.
Finally Eb left her, closing the door behind him while she placed her head in her hands and cried.
The next morning after breakfast, Pa took her aside into the library and closed the door.
/> “Rachel, Abeyta would like you to stay here. She thinks it might help you mend. And she’s asked Abby and Lissa to stay.”
“Pa, that’s nice, but I’m needed.”
“Honey, I’d like to see you stay. Sooner or later McKissick will return. He’s after you and Abby. I know he’ll be more determined than ever now that he’s lost three men. He won’t be satisfied burning us out and getting our place. I’d worry less if the three of you were here.”
She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “Pa, Lyman McKissick killed Dan. I’m not afraid of a fight with McKissick if he comes back to cause trouble. I’m not afraid at all.”
Eb inhaled, studying her. “I understand how you feel,” he answered quietly. “You’re entitled to make your own choice. Lord knows, you’re no child.” He placed his hands on his knees. “Even with the extra men, I think we’re going to have a hell of a time holding out against him. I talked to one of the Rangers yesterday. If we’re attacked and I can get a man out, he said they’ll come if we need them. He said Lyman usually does things in a manner where he doesn’t get crossways with the law around here. But he might be pushed over a line this time.”
“I’m willing to fight him.”
“I understand.” Eb squeezed her shoulder and left.
Early afternoon they loaded the wagon and all of them headed back to the K Bar. Rachel looked at the shady street as the wagon rolled along it and remembered riding in the buggy with Dan.
Rachel was barely aware of the passing of days. As she worked alongside the men, she lost her appetite. She cooked their meals and helped in the building of the new house. And every day, men took turns watching for any sign of Lyman McKissick, but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
“Pa, do you still think he’s coming?” she asked after supper one night.
“I’m sure of it, Rachel. Men like that don’t give up until they get what they want or are hurt worse than McKissick was that night.”
“It’s been a week.”
“Rachel, we may have to wait a year. He knows what waiting will do.”
She drew a deep breath, realizing that McKissick was playing a game with them, knowing in her heart that he would come. “Pa, if Dan’s gone and Pinkerton’s doesn’t hear anything from him, they’ll send another man out to find out what happened to him.”
“We’ll worry about that when they do. It’ll take someone a long time to trace things down. I’m not going to move again.”
He stood and walked away to go back to work. She looked at the land that had held such a promise to her and so much magic when Dan had been part of it. She rose, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, wanting to be alone. She hurried toward the creek, stopping when she was away from everyone and letting tears come.
She didn’t cry as often, but suddenly without warning some thought or memory about Dan would hit her and she felt overcome, wanting to get away where no one could hear or see her cry. “Dan,” she whispered, her fists balled in her skirt. “Oh, Dan…”
Dan felt consciousness going, darkness coming. He struggled to open his eyes and see what had frightened the vultures. Sunlight beat against him and then a shadow covered his eyes. He heard the scrape of feet. Squinting, he looked up at a man. Sun glinted on a knife.
A warrior, face painted with black, stood over him. “To’nsudal,” Dan whispered. The warrior knelt. “To’nsudal,” Dan whispered. “Sanko. Kwahadi,” he added, saying names for the Comanche.
He lost consciousness, blackness enveloping him. The next time he came to, water was poured down his throat. He swallowed, unaware of anything except constant searing pain all over his body.
He stirred again, waves of pain coming as he jolted along on a horse. Unconsciousness was welcome, and Dan made no effort to stir.
Something flaming hot poured over his wounds, and he yelled in agony, trying to get away, to sit up. Strong hands held him and then merciful unconsciousness came.
Later the first thing he noticed was the pungent smell of burning buffalo chips. He heard drums and chants and tried to open his eyes. Visions of green eyes and red hair, Rachel’s soft voice, drifted through consciousness. “Rachel—” he whispered. His eyes fluttered. Dazed, he listened to chanting, and then slipped away into unconsciousness again, because it was too painful and too much effort to do anything else.
The next time he roused, someone was holding his head and trying to spoon something down his throat. He could open both eyes and he looked around a tipi. He gazed at a thin, wiry man dressed in a breechcloth.
“You drink,” the man said, and Dan recognized the Comanche words.
He tried to shift and move. He thought about Rachel. She was expecting him. Dan had to get to her. He had to protect her from McKissick who would ride in with a force strong enough to overpower Eb’s few men. McKissick would take Rachel and Abby. Dan struggled to get up and gasped.
The effort sent pain shooting through him, and he remained still, letting the Comanche tend him. He didn’t know if he had been hurt hours or days. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, but he knew he needed to get to Rachel.
Finally the medicine man helped him sit up. His head spun and pain throbbed in his body, but he inhaled deeply. “Rachel?”
The man raised his eyebrows and looked at Dan.
“I need to get to her. Have to go—”
The man shook his head as Dan fell back, his head spinning. A rough, sturdy staff made from a cottonwood branch was thrust into his hand as Dan tried to stand. He would have toppled, except the medicine man steadied him.
Dan walked a few steps, and then collapsed back on the hides, his head swimming. The next time he could take a few more steps. He ate boiled buffalo meat and the hot liquid it was cooked in and for the first time began to feel alert.
Hating his helplessness, feeling an urgency to get to Rachel, he struggled to walk, moving slowly around the tipi. His wounds were healing, his body and arms covered in cuts and fading bruises.
How much time had it been since the night McKissick took him? Rachel. The thought of her tore at him.
“What day? How long have I been here?” he tried to ask in a faltering mixture of Comanche and Kiowa.
He didn’t understand the answer and tried again using words and signs. “How many days? How many suns have I been here? Tabi?”
The man answered and Dan stared at him. Five days! It had been four days since the Comanche had rescued him. When Dan had faced McKissick, McKissick had said he was going to ride in and get the women the next night. That was four days ago!
Dan felt a sense of desperation overwhelm him. He couldn’t even walk across the tipi. He could never ride a horse in his condition. He couldn’t fight McKissick in this shape, yet he had to get to Rachel. He turned for the door of the tipi and stumbled, sprawling forward, his head striking a rawhide box.
Dan pushed himself up. Determined to get his strength back and get to Rachel, he motioned toward the door of the tipi, and they moved outside. He blinked in bright sunshine, remembering being staked out with vultures hovering over him. He drew a deep breath as he began to walk. Where was the Comanche camp? Was he still close to San Antonio or miles farther away than he had been?
He shuffled slowly around the camp, people staring at him, small children running to him. How far would he have to travel to get back to her? He pushed himself, walking when it hurt and he was breathless, but gradually as he kept at it, it was easier. That night he forced himself to eat heartily.
The next morning he felt stronger, needing no help to stand and walk around. His body was bruised, his ribs sore, his cuts healing. A warrior approached, stopping in front of him, his dark shadow falling over Dan.
Dan looked up, seeing the eagle feathers in the warrior’s hair and knowing it was a chief. He tried to converse using sign as well. “I owe you my life.”
“You are our friend. You will join our council this night.”
Dan nodded, knowing it was their way to follow cere
mony before getting to important issues.
That night he eased himself down in the circle of men around the campfire. The chief sat beside him, and they had a puff on the long-stemmed pipe decorated with paint and eagle feathers.
Dan told them about returning to his people. “Now you are my brother,” he said finally. “I will go back after the man who did this to me. He wants my woman.”
The chief nodded his head. “We will give you a horse.”
“A fine gift. I will be more deeply in your debt. How far to where I was found?”
“Two day’s journey,” the chief said solemnly, nodding his head.
Stunned, Dan stared at him. Two days. It could be another day from there to the K Bar. An overpowering sense of disaster consumed him. He couldn’t lose her. And never to a bastard like McKissick.
A sharp pain went through Dan, because McKissick would tell Rachel he had killed him. He had to get to her. Dan stood up, the men in the circle looking up at him.
“I must return. I have to save her from this man.”
The chief nodded and motioned for Dan to sit down.
For an instant Dan wanted to argue, to tell them how desperate he was, but he knew this was their way. They would give his request thought and time before acting and he was their guest. They had saved him, and he would gain nothing by trying to leave before they were ready for him to go.
He sat and waited while a medicine man shook his rattle and danced, chanting. The urgency in Dan tore at him while he waited and watched as they looked for favorable or unfavorable signs.
Finally the chief shook his head. “He says the signs are not favorable. You need more strength for a journey.”
Dan knew they wouldn’t try to stop him, but he knew they didn’t want him to leave yet.
“I have to go. The evil man will harm my woman.”
The chief nodded. “A warrior will ride with you.”
“You are my brother and my life-giver. Without you, I would have died. Now I try to save her.”
He rode two hours before he fainted and fell off the horse, and the Comanche brought him back to the camp. When he stirred that night, he looked through the smoke-hole of the tipi.