“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are!” With a stealthy movement Percy would not have thought possible of someone so drunk, Bert reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol.
“I will not be intimidated,” Percy said insistently. “You will leave now or I’m sure some of these gentlemen will be happy to help you leave.” She looked anxiously over her shoulder at Matt Harden and Carson Gregory. They were gesturing to each other, but they both caught her glance.
Bert Richards wheeled around, gun in hand. “I believe I have all the help I need,” he said, waving the gun. “I promise you, it’s loaded. Who’s going to tell me where my family is?”
Percy looked around the room at the stone-faced men. They were not going to say a word, she could tell. Alvira’s brief time among them had been enough to develop a protective layer of loyalty. But there was no reason any of them should be threatened for information they did not have.
“Don’t bother with the men,” Percy said. “They don’t know where Alvira is.”
“Ah, you know her name! So she was here!”
“It seems you’ve already ascertained that,” Percy said briskly. “But she’s not here now. So you might as well be on your way.”
“I will be just as soon as you point me in the right direction.”
“She’s not going to point you anywhere,” came a voice from the back of the room.
Josh! Percy turned to see Josh moving cautiously but steadily across the room. She had not even heard him come in, but his presence surely meant that TJ reached safety. Travis must not have been home or Josh would not have come alone, but surely he and Peter would appear soon.
Bert turned and leered at Josh. “You again. I thought you would have learned your lesson last time. You wanna get hurt again?”
Again? Percy thought, gasping inwardly. Had Josh hidden from her that Bert had hurt him the last time he stormed into town?
Josh put out his hand and continued walking toward Bert. “Give me the gun, Bert. Hurting somebody is not going to help anything.”
“You all seem quite happy to steal my wife away. Don’t you think that hurts me?”
“I’m sure it hurts,” Josh said gently. Percy believed he really meant what he said. “It’s not easy to have your life turned inside out. Let’s put the gun away and talk this through.”
Percy held her breath. No one else in the room made a sound as Josh reached out for the gun.
With a jerk, Bert moved the gun from Percy to Josh’s face. Josh’s chin pointed up as he moved it away from the pistol. He was frozen in place.
“I’m done sweet-talkin’,” Bert growled. “If you think I won’t shoot this thing, you got a lot to learn.” He cocked the trigger.
Percy’s heart leaped into her throat. Josh! She had treated him so brusquely in all his attempts to reach out to her. As much as she regretted her curt demeanor, she never seemed able to help herself. Suddenly she wanted to start fresh, to make things right with Joshua Wells, to receive the good intentions that he offered her. It can’t end like this! she cried out silently.
“Dr. Wells does not know where your family is,” Percy said abruptly. “I told you, I am the only one who knows.”
The gun turned back toward her. Percy breathed deeply. No matter what happened to her, she would not let Josh be hurt if there was anything she could do about it.
“Then you talk to me!” Bert shouted. “If you care about your friend, you’ll start talking!”
Percy glanced at Josh, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. That was all the encouragement she needed. Instantly, inexplicably, she trusted his gesture. “You’ll get no help from me of any kind,” she said firmly.
The gun swung back toward Josh. At the same moment, Carson Gregory and Matt Harden lunged at Bert from behind.
Chapter 24
Instinctively, Percy’s eyes squeezed shut. If Josh was to be shot, she could not bear to watch. She believed with every ounce of her being that Bert Richards was capable of pulling the trigger on that gun without remorse or pity. She had no idea what he was like when he was sober, and that did not matter much at the moment, for he was roaring drunk and angrier than she thought humanly possible. For a fleeting second she wanted to cry out that she would reveal Alvira’s whereabouts to save Josh from further danger. But even if she had chosen to, the opportunity vanished instantly.
The combined weight of Matt and Carson and their precision in moving together gave Bert Richards no time to anticipate their action. Instead of a gunshot, Percy heard the thud as Carson and Matt knocked Bert Richards to the floor. Men all over the dining hall, freed from the paralysis that a cocked and pointed gun brings, pushed back their chairs and sprang to their feet.
Richards cursed loudly and thrashed against his attackers. Despite their momentary advantage, he would not be subdued easily. Percy forced her eyes open to see that he still waved the pistol in one hand. He gripped it, ready to shoot. Bert Richards was a strong man, more determined than ever in his drunken rage. One enormous boot kicked at Carson’s head as Carson tried to restrain Bert’s feet. Carson ducked the blows and persisted, clamping his hands down first on one ankle and then the other. Bert swung the pistol around Matt’s head, somehow managing to keep a fraction of an inch ahead of Matt’s grasping hands. To avoid a vicious blow to the jaw, Matt leaned backward, off balance. With a mighty one-armed jolt to Matt’s chest, Bert sent the smaller man sprawling. Cursing continuously, Bert leered at Carson Gregory, still struggling to hold down his feet. Richards had gained the advantage he sought and Percy saw the monstrous contortion that his face took on and she was frightened all the more. Strength surged through his arms as he pointed the gun at Carson’s face. Once again her eyes narrowed in anticipation of the gunshot.
From behind Bert, Josh threw himself at the big man and thrust his hands down on Bert’s shoulders. His smaller size was no match for Bert’s powerful torso and the two were soon entangled in a twisting wrestling match. Carson hung onto Bert’s feet, but that did not stop Bert from rolling forcefully to one side. Ignoring his own pain, Matt scrambled to his feet and lurched toward Bert again. He joined the rolling fray, heedless of where the gun was now. Out of the side of her eyes, Percy could see a couple of other men moving in to help, but they could not cross the room quickly enough. Percy’s common sense somehow overcame the urge to leap onto the tangled heap of men herself. If anything happened to Josh because she had kept silent about Alvira—she did not know if she could bear the thought.
Bert continued to threaten randomly with the gun. He needed no further provocation to pull the trigger, only the opportunity for a clear shot. The gun moved toward Josh’s face. Carson Gregory shifted his position for a better grip. For a moment, Percy could not see Bert or Josh and in that moment, the gun went off.
For an eternity of a second, the room was motionless.
Unimaginable scenarios flooded Percy’s mind. Common sense failing her now, she pitched forward toward the tangle of arms and legs that was Josh, Bert, Matt, and Carson. She could not see Josh, but the sudden stillness was ghastly. Slowly, far too slowly for Percy’s liking, the men peeled themselves apart.
First, Carson released his fought-for hold on Bert’s ankles, stood up, and backed away. As he did, he shook his head at the sight before him.
“What happened?” Percy cried out.
As Carson stepped away, Matt pulled himself to his knees, breathing heavily. His eyes did not move from the scene before him.
Percy had reached them now and she forced herself between Carson and Matt. Josh was up on his knees, finally, bent over Bert with blood soaking the front of his shirt.
“Josh!” Percy gasped. “You’re hurt!”
He shook his head and rocked back on his heels. “Not me. Him.”
Percy blanched as she saw the blood spurting out of Bert’s chest.
“Somebody clear off a table,” Josh barked. “We have to get him up where I can see what I’m doing.”
> “You’re not going to try to save this piece of trash!” Carson shouted, incredulous.
“I’m a doctor. This is what I do.” Josh’s answer was firm. “What you do is up to you.”
Carson stood frozen in his place as Josh pulled open the front of Bert Richards’s shirt. “Clear a table!” Josh repeated urgently.
Behind her, Percy heard men rapidly swiping dishes off the nearest long table and scraping chairs out of the way. They heaved the table toward the spot where Bert Richards had been transformed from intruder to patient. Josh had one hand tucked under Bert’s back and was leaning over with his ear to the big man’s mouth, listening for breath.
“He’s still breathing,” Josh finally announced, “but I can’t find an exit wound. I don’t think the bullet came out.”
“What does that mean?” Percy asked.
“It means we have to go in looking for it.” He caught her eyes. “Sorry, but it looks like we’ll have to commandeer your dining hall again for a temporary medical facility.”
Several men, including Matt Harden, stepped forward and together they hoisted Bert Richards’s limp form to the table. Josh immediately turned him on his side for a better look at his back, peeling off patches of bloodied clothing along the way.
“Did you find an exit wound?” Percy asked, wanting to know but hardly able to look for herself.
Josh continued to probe Bert’s back. Finally he shook his head and rolled Bert to his back. “Definitely not. It went in here,” he said, pointing to the hole in Bert’s chest. “Based on the angle of the entry wound and the way the blood is spurting, I believe the bullet may be near the heart.”
“So what do you have to do?”
“I’m going in.”
“Going in?”
“It’s his only chance.”
“Are you talking about operating? Here? Now?”
Josh looked at Percy steadily and spoke quietly. “Yes. That is exactly what I’m talking about. And I need you to help. Will you?”
Stunned, she nodded mutely.
“My medical bag is over by the door. Can you get it? Then see about getting rid of the onlookers. I’m sorry about their supper, but I can’t have everyone loitering around while I work.”
“Yes, of course,” Percy said, moving toward the door to scoop up the black medical bag. She whispered some instructions to Matt and Carson, gesturing toward the food and the kitchen. As she turned back to Josh, she could see the men organizing themselves to bring some order back to the dining hall.
“There are some scissors in there,” Josh said.
“I remember,” Percy responded, reaching into the bag and pulling out the scissors Josh had used to cut away Troy Wilger’s dungarees all those weeks ago. Now, without being asked, she used them to remove what remained of Bert Richards’s shirt. Blood pumped out as fast as she could sop it up with the few rags that were in the bag. Percy slipped off her apron and laid it across Bert’s chest. It turned a deep purple almost immediately. She looked at his ashen face. Under other circumstances it would be possible to believe that he was an ordinary patient, an ordinary man with a family who had succumbed to an accident and needed a doctor. At a moment of need, Bert Richards looked like anyone else.
“The blood just keeps coming,” Percy murmured as she rearranged her apron to absorb more.
Josh removed a scalpel from the bag and positioned it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Are you sure about this?” Percy asked, half under her breath.
Josh was breathing rapidly. “I took some surgical training. I admit I don’t have a lot of experience, but I had a case like this once.” He glanced at her. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
“You don’t look so well yourself,” she said gently, “but if you’re ready, I’m ready.”
“Here we go.” And with that, Josh made the incision and soon had his hand deep in Bert Richards’s chest.
“What are you looking for?” Percy asked.
“We have to stop the bleeding. The bullet must have hit an artery.”
“Can you sew up an artery?”
“I can try.”
Josh worked by touch, not able to see but moving his hand around gently inside Bert’s chest.
“I need more rags,” Percy said. “I’ll get them.”
Her hands and dress bloodied, she ran to the kitchen. Some of the men were still pressed against the walls of the big room and a few had gathered in the kitchen. Percy ignored their inquiring looks and focused on her task. She retrieved a stack of dish towels and dashed back to Josh. Bert looked noticeably worse. Blood dribbled down the side of the table and pooled on the floor. Josh was visibly agitated.
“Is he…?” Percy started to ask.
Josh shook his head. “I think we’re losing him.”
Chapter 25
They did lose him. Bert Richards expired on a wooden table in the dining hall on a muggy midsummer Tuesday night. The blood loss was rapid and voluminous, and it was only minutes after the gunshot when his heart stopped beating. Joshua Wells pulled his hand out of the man’s chest and stepped back from the table. He opened his fist to show that he had indeed found the bullet, seconds too late. Percy lifted her eyes to meet his as they filled with the grief of a lost battle and a lost life.
“He’s gone,” Josh murmured. “I wanted to help him.”
“You did everything you could.” Percy reached out and grasped Josh’s arm at the elbow. They were both sodden with the blood of Bert Richards. “You tried to save him. I’m not sure anyone else here would have done that. Besides, if he hadn’t come in here with that gun…”
Josh shook his head slowly. “I know what you’re thinking…that he deserved this. He was a wicked man and deserved what happened to him. But don’t we all? Even when we bring things on ourselves we can hope that by the grace of God mercy will prevail.”
Percy raised an eyebrow at such a philosophical response at this burning moment. She was fleetingly reminded of the time Josh had compared her to the wickedness of Troy Wilger. But this was not the time to pursue a theological discussion. Instead, she put her arms around Joshua Wells, whom moments earlier she had feared losing, and she breathed relief that he was not the man on the table.
Josh returned the embrace. “Thank you for helping,” he murmured into her ear. “It was the only chance he had.”
“And you were willing to give it to him.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Percy glanced over her shoulder at the row of men pressed against the far wall. Most of the men had scattered as soon as Bert was hoisted onto a table and Josh extracted a shiny scalpel from his bag. But a few had stayed to witness Josh cut open Bert’s chest and plunge his hand inside. The men were pale now, one or two slumped into chairs. They were too busy holding onto their stomachs to notice her embrace with Josh.
The front door opened. Travis and Peter burst in, then stopped in their tracks. “What happened in here?” Travis demanded.
Josh pulled away from Percy and gestured weakly toward the table. Percy realized how rapidly the entire incident had happened. When she sent TJ off to safety, she expected Travis and Peter would come right away. And they had. But those few minutes had been enough to bring tragedy. Haltingly and briefly, she explained what had happened.
Josh sighed. “I’m glad you’re here. We’d better move him and clean up.”
“I’ll heat some water,” Percy mumbled and turned numbly toward the kitchen. Percy, Josh, Travis, Peter, and a small crew of men worked long into the night, erasing any clue of what had transpired.
The community was stunned. Fistfights broke out occasionally, and the danger of an accident with the machinery or lumber loomed over them always. But never in the camp’s short history had a stranger thundered into town wielding a gun and then ending up with a sheet over his face.
In the morning, Travis went to fetch Alvira and Sally, bearing the mixed news that they were safe but at the expense of Bert’s life. Their return to the
camp, although a day earlier than planned, was somber. TJ held his mother and sister tightly as they sobbed, their shoulders racking with relief that their flight to freedom had come to its destination and sorrow that any glimmer of hope for restoration was now gone. That afternoon, Bert was buried quietly and unceremoniously in the first grave adjacent to the camp land. TJ refused to be present; and as soon as the last shovel of dirt was thrown over the hastily made pine coffin, Sally ran sobbing back to the shed she shared with her mother.
Percy walked with Alvira from the unmarked grave back toward the camp. “I never wished him dead,” Alvira said.
“No one would blame you if you had,” Percy said softly, remembering that more than once she had pondered that it would have been better if her own father had died than to do what he had done. She might still be with Ashley and their mother might have survived widowhood with more grace than she had brought to the shameful events they had endured.
“He was my husband and I once loved him. I wasn’t always afraid of him. But he changed. It was like the demons got hold of him and he turned into someone I didn’t know. But I never wished him dead, not ever, not a single time.”
Percy put her arm around Alvira’s shoulders. “I’m sure you didn’t. That would not be your nature.”
“I know folks thought I should stop putting up with him years ago. Miss Lacey thought that when TJ was just eight and she saw what was happening to him. I’m sure she thought I was weak, and I was.”
Percy squeezed Alvira’s shoulder. “No one is judging you now. You don’t need to judge yourself so harshly.”
If only she had learned that lesson herself. Not a day went by that Percy did not wonder what she could have done differently, any small thing that might have spared Ashley’s being sent away.
Alvira sighed deeply. “Well, he is dead now and I’m not sure I’m sorry about that. I’m supposin’ that makes me a horrible person, just as bad as he was.”
“Alvira, don’t. What you’re feeling is normal; it’s understandable. He treated you dreadfully.”
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