“By that time I was angry and resentful and hostile, and more than anything I wanted to wash my hands of the war, so I decided to give him what he wanted, then walk away.”
“You deserted?”
I nodded. If she was going to think the worst of me, now was the time to find out, not after I’d fallen for her so completely that it would kill me if she left. As it was, I loved her enough that her leaving would break my heart. And this story wasn’t even the worst of it. “Jenkins was in a bad way, and I couldn’t dismember another man. I’d cut off enough arms and legs to litter a battlefield. I’d sloshed through inches of blood until I didn’t even notice it anymore. I was tired. So I gave Jenkins enough morphine to kill him and held his hand while he died. His last words were ‘thank you,’ and he died with a peaceful smile on his face. Then I packed up my things and walked away. Nobody even noticed in all the chaos.”
“Did anyone search for you?”
“Oh yes. As the surgeon for the unit, I was definitely missed when injured soldiers started piling up. It took them a couple of weeks to find me, though I’m surprised it took that long since I headed for the nearest tavern and didn’t stop drinking until they found me and threw me in the brig. When I sobered up, my commanding officer spent far too long yelling at me through the bars about duty and responsibility and a lot of other drivel that I didn’t pay any attention to. He said if he didn’t need me so badly, he’d let them hang me, but he’d convinced whoever made the decisions to release me to him. But I refused. I told him I’d rather stay and take my chances. I couldn’t stand in that hot, bloody tent for another day. I’d rather be dead myself.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t give me a choice. He and his men just escorted me back to camp as if nothing had happened. The irony wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t say a single word about the fact that I’d murdered Jenkins.”
Emmett had murdered a man. He hadn’t killed the enemy, or defended himself against a threat, he’d murdered. He’d had the option to save the man’s life, but he hadn’t.
Yet, Jenkins had begged him to do it. Maybe Emmett had done him a mercy.
“Did he even know what you’d done?”
“You mean, did he realize I’d killed Jenkins? No, I don’t think so. If he did, he’d probably have let me hang. In most cases, he didn’t involve himself much with dead soldiers, other than to write letters to their families.”
The dark smudges under his eyes, and the shadows lurking in their depths showed the anguish of the time he’d spent in the war. Jenkins must have been the final straw.
I took his hand in mine, stroking the back of it. “It must have been hard enough to be a soldier shooting at other men, but you had to deal with the aftermath of all that slaughter. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it was to hold men’s lives in your hands like that.”
“Killing Jenkins was a low point for me, but it wasn’t the lowest. It actually started a downhill spiral. My commander dragged me back to camp and kept me under guard at all times. Thank God the war only lasted a couple more months, but I barely hung on, mostly by drinking. Even after being discharged at the end, I slid into a long, drunken stupor. I meant it when I told my commander I’d rather be dead, and I went to work at trying to drink myself to death.”
He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair again. He seemed to be spiraling down into a black mood now. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him about Jenkins. But really, if he didn’t talk about it he’d just keep having nightmares and letting it eat at him.
“What changed?”
“What makes you think anything changed?” he asked, looking at me from haunted eyes.
“You’re still alive, and you’re not drunk.”
He huffed a humorless laugh. “I needed money, so I went home. My father wasn’t very pleased with me. He’s a state senator, you know, so has a reputation to maintain. He couldn’t have his son become an embarrassment. So I cleaned myself up and kept my drinking better hidden, and went back to practicing medicine as if the war never happened. For a while I hoped that the pretending would become such habit that I’d actually believe it. But I drank myself to sleep every night, and drank first thing in the morning to face the day. I was an accident waiting to happen.”
I didn’t want to ask what happened next, because I didn’t think it would be good. “And?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, a dark shadow filled his eyes before he turned to face the fire. He stabbed at the logs, sending embers flying into the air.
“I’ve told you enough already,” he said, still not looking at me.
My heart fell. What could have happened worse than Jenkins that he wouldn’t tell me? The war had clearly broken him and turned a good, caring man into a defeated, ruined soul and he carried the guilt and responsibility for his actions heavily on his shoulders.
I watched him, his profile both strong and sad as he concentrated on the fire, lost in thought. He hadn’t shaved since the storytelling contest—since we’d been wed—and the dark scruff of his beard added to his haggard air.
I couldn’t help loving him, and my heart burst with the desire to help him see the good man I saw in him, despite his past—no matter what horror lay there. I just hoped I had the fortitude to deal with whatever that horror was.
“I don’t think you have. There’s more, isn’t there?”
He closed his eyes and his entire body tensed as if he meant to spring up and run away. But then he relaxed as if he’d made a decision, and when he looked at me he seemed resigned.
“Yes, there is. A patient died. A young woman. Looking back on it now, she would have died anyway, but at the time I was drunk, I had no confidence in my medical abilities, and part of me just didn’t care. Her husband and family were outraged, and certain I’d killed her, which I hadn’t, but my father smoothed it over. I’m sure money was involved, but he told me he’d had enough of me, that I needed to pull myself together. I had enough sense to be horrified, so I quit practicing medicine, and quit drinking, too.”
No wonder he chose not to talk about his past. My heart went out to him for all the travail he’d suffered. I could understand Jenkins. His request, given the circumstances, was almost reasonable. The young woman, though, left me conflicted. Emmett had rushed through telling about her, leaving me with questions—what had been wrong with her? How had she died? Could he have prolonged her life? Why did he feel responsible?—but I was afraid to ask them. Part of me didn’t want the answers. But who was I to judge? I hadn’t been through what he had, so I couldn’t say what I would have done, or criticize him for his actions. All I could do was help him to leave it in the past and live with it.
I opened my mouth to tell him so, but shouts outside interrupted me.
“What’s that?” I asked.
We both stared at the door, expecting it to burst open at any moment, but nothing happened. Just more noise and yelling.
Emmett bolted up, grabbing a coat on the way and jamming his feet into his boots. At the door, he said, “get dressed and stay here. Wait for me.” Then he was gone.
The yelling turned from curious shouts to terrified screams as I struggled to dress myself. I could only imagine the women and children I’d come to know scrambling to find cover. My fingers trembled as I buttoned and tied my clothing, the sound of incoming hooves, and the whoops and hollers of what could only be an attack loud in my ears. From the tone of the cheering, the attackers must be white men.
I got my boots on, but I couldn’t just sit there in the lodge and wait. If nothing else, I had to help the other women, and the children.
The thundering of hooves passed by, and my stomach twisted with every shriek and yelp.
I went to the door and peeked my head out. The sky was a sharp, cold blue. I pulled my coat from a peg on the wall and shrugged into it, then stepped out into the trampled snow.
The loudest commotion seemed to be in the center of the camp, so I hurried in that di
rection, staying close to the lodges to hide myself from view. I wanted to know what had happened before heading for the women’s lodge to see how I could help.
When I got close enough to see, my heart sank. I peeked around the last lodge to find Clyde and his gang, but it looked like he’d been recruiting because there were a lot more men than he’d had when we left him. Maybe another of the gangs from the hideout had joined up with him for this raid.
They’d made a run through the camp, shooting and injuring several of the men, slashing some of the lodges, and generally laying waste wherever they could.
I scanned the melee for Emmett, and found him engaged in fighting with Slim and Lyle, while the rest of the bandits grappled with the Indians. Clyde wrestled with Yellow Hair Woman while Sitting With tried to pry him off, and Walks Nice herded children into a protective knot. Clyde punched Yellow Hair Woman and yelled at her. That got my blood boiling. I didn’t care what the consequences were, I couldn’t let him hurt my friends.
I took a step to join the brawl, but a hand grabbed my arm and held me in place. I spun to give that person a piece of my mind, only to find Billy looking sheepish.
“Sorry, Miss Lydia. But I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? When Clyde decided on this raid, getting hurt was inevitable.”
I yanked my arm from his grip and he had the decency to look ashamed.
“Clyde’s pretty furious about what you and the Doc did to him and the hideout. He vowed he’d hunt you both down and make you pay. That’s all he’s talked about, and all we’ve done, since you left.”
I straightened my coat. “What are you doing here? You don’t usually go on raids, do you? You could get hurt.”
He stood straighter and his lips pinched as if he were incensed. “I’m not a child. I was a soldier, and I’ve been on my share of raids. I can handle myself.”
“Then why aren’t you out there fighting? Maybe you’re as brave as Clyde, and you’d like to take on some of the other women?”
He tensed, then fuming he said, “For your information, I came along this time only for the purpose of protecting you however I could. Clyde’s done right by us, but he’s got a sore temper. I don’t think you deserve his vengeance.”
Billy was a good man and didn’t merit the ire I held for Clyde. His desire to protect me from Clyde only reinforced what I’d told Emmett before we left the hideout—that the men, at least some of them, would have stood by me against Clyde.
I placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Billy. Thank you for your concern. But nobody deserves Clyde’s vengeance, especially not these innocent women and children. Your friends rode into this peaceful settlement and started slaughtering people.”
“They’re just injuns, Miss Lydia.”
My heart broke with his words. “They’re people, Billy. People who love their families and their homes, who eat and drink and sleep and work the same as everyone else. I’ve only been here a short time, but I care about them, and now you’re here hurting them. I can’t let that happen. If you’re concerned about me, you have to be concerned about them, too.”
A woman screamed and I turned to see Clyde had Yellow Hair Woman down on the ground and had hit her again. I had no time to stand talking to Billy. I left him and ran for Clyde, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling as hard as I could.
He roared and spun. It occurred to me before his maniacal eyes met mine, that he may have thought I was an Indian about to scalp him. I only wished I was.
When he saw me, his face shifted from a mask of beastly rage to sly pleasure. It made my skin crawl—in fact, the healing burn on my hand actually itched, reminding me of the last time Clyde and I’d met—but in turning his attention to me. He’d let go of Yellow Hair Woman, forgetting all about the women and children. No matter what happened to me, saving them from Clyde’s wrath made it worth it.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Lydia,” Clyde said, full of his own triumph. I had no doubt he wouldn’t let me get away this time.
“Congratulations, Clyde, you tracked us down. It couldn’t have been too difficult.”
My words implied dismissal, but I tried to keep my voice from shaking, though with all the shouting and chaos around us, not to mention his mania, I wondered if he’d even notice.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. I squealed despite myself, which made him sneer, baring his yellow teeth at me. “You’ve got a lot to answer for, you and your sweetheart over there. You’ll pay for what you did, the both of you.”
He pulled me around by the hair, forcing me ahead of him through the ongoing fight. I grabbed at his hands, trying to loose myself, but he had a tight grip, and it hurt surprisingly more than I expected.
“Wilder,” he yelled over the chaos.
Emmett had a fistful of the front of Lyle’s coat, and was punching his face. When he heard his name, he paused and glanced over at us. If his face had been angry before, it turned downright black with fury when he saw Clyde and me.
He gave Lyle one last blow, knocking him out cold, and dropped him like a sack of potatoes, then stalked across the space between us, completely ignoring the battle raging around him. He only had eyes for Clyde and me. At that moment, I was glad not to be Clyde. If Emmett had anything to say about it, Clyde would come to an ugly end.
When Emmett was several steps away, Clyde drew his gun and whipped it up to my temple. I’d heard about outlaws who were quick on the draw, but it took me by surprise how fast Clyde had drawn his gun. I hardly had time to register what had happened, and it took a moment or two before my heart caught up to the situation and thundered in my chest.
Emmett realized what Clyde had done and a flash of surprise crossed his face before the wrath returned to his eyes.
“That’s far enough, Wilder, unless you want me to air out the inside of Miss Lydia’s head.”
Emmett stopped, but continued to glower. Despite having a gun to my head, and the chaos around us, something inside me thrilled at Emmett’s desire to protect me. Nobody’d ever cared enough about me to fight for me.
Just as quickly, shame flooded me. I wanted him as safe as he wanted me, and if I could do anything to that end, it was as much my responsibility as his.
“What now, Clyde?” Emmett asked.
“Now I’m going to kill you both like I should have after Ernie died.”
Next to my head I heard him cock his gun and I winced. Nausea filled my gut, but my brain struggled to accept my imminent death.
“Just take me, Clyde. I’m the one who let Ernie die. I’m the one who tricked you and allowed us to escape. Lydia’s only mistake was being on the train with me when you showed up.”
Clyde turned the gun from my head and pointed it at Emmett. I let go of the breath I’d been holding, waiting for a bullet in my brain. But having Emmett in Clyde’s sights was no better.
“You’re blind if you think she’s innocent. She attacked me and burned down my home. She made me a fool, and she’ll pay for it.”
In the heat of the moment I had the thought that he’d been a fool far before I came into his life, and a giggle escaped my lips. I slapped my hand over my mouth. Why would such an inappropriate thought pop into my mind in the midst of the threat of death?
“You think this is funny?” Clyde asked. “You don’t believe I’m serious?”
I’d insulted him again. Apparently, I was destined to continually agitate the man. “No,” I said. “I know you’re serious.”
“You want me to kill you first or him?”
“I don’t want you to kill either of us.”
“Oh, I’m going to kill you both, the question right now is who goes first.”
“Clyde!” Pete’s voice carried over the bedlam. “We need to go!”
Clyde had been so focused on us, he hadn’t been paying attention to the fighting around him. The Indians were getting the upper hand in the fight, and since the
outlaws certainly weren’t willing to die in the service of Clyde’s revenge, they seemed to have decided it was time to retreat.
Clyde snarled. He’d likely planned an elaborate execution for the both of us, something he could savor, and he didn’t seem very happy to have been cheated out of it. His gun hand wavered for a moment between us—which of us to shoot first? He finally decided on Emmett, bringing his gun arm up to aim.
Emmett was unarmed, and had little time to react, other than to shift his gaze to mine and smile. I saw the love in his eyes, and the resignation. I wasn’t ready to give up, though.
“No!” I yelled and shoved backwards, hoping to send the shot wild.
My shout sounded loud to me, louder and deeper than it should have, but before I had time to decide why, the gun went off and a male voice grunted.
“Emmett,” I cried, wrestling and straining against Clyde’s grasp. I closed my eyes and using my elbow as a weapon, swinging it behind me as hard as I could.
The pressure on my scalp released and I fell to my knees, scrabbling like a desperate animal to find Emmett’s body.
Everything moved so fast around me that I couldn’t see. There were legs and bodies and screams and grunts, and my eyes were blurred by tears I didn’t even know I’d been crying. I couldn’t lose Emmett now, not after we’d just found each other. Not now that we might have a future together.
I crawled in the snow until I came to a body laying still on the ground.
I clawed at it, my hands trying to hold it and find a way to make it whole again. “Emmett,” I sobbed, burying my face in his coat.
“Billy,” the body whispered.
My eyes popped open and I sat up, looking at the face for the first time. I swiped the tears from my eyes to get a better look.
A quick scan of his body showed a well of blood pouring from his chest.
“Oh, Billy. What did you do?”
Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) Page 18