Chapter 11
By the time Danielle had reached the flatlands she sat bowed in her saddle. The pain in her side had grown worse. The bleeding had slowed almost to a stop, but the flesh surrounding the wound had turned puffy and flaming red. The intense heat made matters worse, draining what strength the bullet in her side had not already taken away. It had been up to Sundown to lead them the last few miles to the beginning of the dirt street into town. Danielle sat slumped, suspended on a narrow edge of semi-consciousness and losing ground.
From an alleyway where he’d taken up a regular guard position ever since Cherokee Earl and his gang had raided the town, Leonard Whirley crouched with the 10-gauge shotgun—the same shotgun that had fallen from the dead sheriffs hand. Leonard could tell that this wasn’t one of those who had sacked the town, but he remained cautious and slipped back through the alley and down behind the buildings until he reached the rear door of the doctor’s office. He knocked sharply and whispered to the wooden door, “Doc, it’s Whirley! Open up! A woman’s riding in. Looks like she’s shot!”
“Shot?” Dr. Callaway slipped the bolt back on the door and stepped out into the alley, hooking his wire-rimmed spectacles behind his ears. “Another woman? This one’s shot? What the hell’s gotten into women around here?”
“I don’t know, Doc,” said Whirley. “I just thought you better know about it.”
“Good thinking, Whirley,” the doctor replied, buttoning his vest as the two hurried along the back alley. On their way, they spotted a buckboard wagon loaded high with furniture and household items headed out of town along a back road. “There goes Orville Jones and his family,” the old doctor said, shaking his head. “They’re all leaving here like rats from a sinking ship. This town will be a dusty spot on the trail in another week.”
“I know,” said Whirley. “I’m already thinking of boarding up the New Royal and heading for New Mexico Territory. I’m giving up on Braden Flats.”
“I hate saying it, but me too,” the doctor replied. They rushed along until they reached the spot where Whirley had stood a moment ago. They saw the chestnut mare standing in the middle of the street. On the ground Danielle lay where she had fallen. The mare nudged her gently but got no response. Danielle appeared lifeless in the dirt. Dr. Callaway studied the situation for a moment, rubbing his chin.
“Come on, Leonard, this one looks like she’s done in,” said the doctor at length.
“Wait, Doc, this might be a trick,” Whirley replied, his right hand going nervously to his toupee.
“Dang it, Leonard! Why would it be a trick?” He flagged Whirley forward with his hand. “Come on, help me get this poor woman off the street. Worry about your hair later.”
After they rushed to the middle of the street, it took a few tries for Dr. Callaway to shoo the chestnut mare away from Danielle long enough for him and Whirley to scoop her up off the street and carry her back to his office. Sundown loped along behind them, her reins dragging in the dirt. As the men stepped up onto the boardwalk, the mare paced back and forth, shaking her mane and blowing out a restless breath. “Don’t you worry ole gal,” Doc Callaway said over his shoulder to Sundown from the open doorway. “We’ll take good care of her.”
When they laid Danielle onto a gurney in the room next to the doctor’s office, Doc Callaway said to the bar owner, “I’m going to have to undress her, Whirley. You go hitch the mare to the rail and see she gets some water and grain. I’ll put her up at my barn tonight, since we’ve got no town livery barn left.” Thinking about what had happened to the barn, Callaway grumbled under his breath as he unbuckled Danielle’s trousers. “The dirty sonsabitches.”
Whirley turned and slipped out the door. The old doctor eased Danielle’s trousers down as carefully as he could. But still she moaned in unconscious pain. “Whoo-ie,” said the doctor, seeing the inflamed, swollen flesh surrounding the small bullet hole. “Nothing worse than shooting a body with a dirty little derringer, I always say.”
Danielle’s eyes opened for a moment. “Who—who are you? Where am I?” she asked, reaching to grasp the doctor’s wrist as he pressed his fingertip gently against the tortured flesh.
“Nobody you need fear,” the doctor replied. He pushed her weak hand aside. “I’m Dr. Callaway. This is Braden Flats ... what’s left of it, anyway. That’s as much as you need to know for now. You got a nasty little bullet lodged in ya.” He probed gently with his fingers. “We need to get it out of there before it festers up any worse. I’ll have to do some cutting.”
Danielle looked around the room with bleary eyes. “Is my mare all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’d say she’s right enough. She gave us a hard time when we went to move you here.”
Danielle gave a weak smile. “That’s my mare for sure,” she whispered. Then she lowered her head back to the pillow on the gurney and said with resolve, “Cut away, Doctor. I’m all yours.”
Seeing she had slipped back into unconsciousness, Dr. Callaway rubbed her hair back off her damp forehead. “I’ll make it as painless as I can, young lady,” he whispered to her. “You look like you’ve been through plenty enough already.”
For the next half hour, Whirley waited in the doctor’s office, pacing to the window every few minutes and keeping an eye on the road leading out of town. While he stood at the window, he shook his head as he saw another heavily loaded wagon amble into the distance across the rolling flatlands.
“She’s all stitched up now,” said the doctor’s voice from the door to the next room.
“Did she ever wake up, Doc?” Whirley asked, straightening his crooked toupee.
“Yep,” said Dr. Callaway. “She woke up before I started, then again when I was closing the incision.
“Well, what did she tell you?” Whirley asked. “Had she run into the same bunch that raided us? Did they do that to her?”
“She said it was different men, but from the same bunch,” said the doctor. “She’s on their trail for doing the same in Haley Springs that they did here. They killed an old drover who rode with her.... They kidnapped that woman who was with Cherokee Earl.” Considering the situation, he added, “I thought right off that there was something wrong there. I hate thinking that man took advantage of that woman right here in Braden Flats, and we never lifted a finger to stop him.”
“Hell, Doc, we didn’t know,” said Whirley. “Besides, what good would we have done anyway? Our sheriff is dead from trying to stop them. What chance would we have had?”
“I don’t know,” said the doctor. “None, I suppose. I ain’t got it in me to kill. Some men are born with a killing trait, but some of us ain’t. Sometimes I wish it was otherwise, but I can’t deny how I am.”
“Then we did all we could,” said Whirley. “So put it out of your mind and think no more about it.”
“I reckon you’re right,” said the doctor. He looked off across the barren land to the slight rise of dust still stirred up from the wagon, which was long gone from sight. “This is a hateful, cussed place, Whirley. I wish to God I’d never laid eyes on it.”
A silence passed. Then Whirley straightened his toupee and smoothed it down again with both palms of his hands. “Me too, Doc,” he said as if in defeat.
For the next week, Danielle, following the doctor’s orders, was forced to rest and keep the wound treated in order to arrest any further infection. She did so grudgingly. She took her meals and lodging in the same small room where Dr. Callaway had treated her. She began moving around slowly with the help of a cane on the third day. Leonard Whirley managed to be close by her side every waking hour. Danielle could see the saloon owner was taken with her, and she tried to treat him as a casual friend, hoping that was as far as it would go. But Whirley grew more smitten as each day passed.
On the fourth day, having loosened the stiffness in her side, Danielle moved about the room and the doctor’s office without the cane, limping slightly. The swelling had begun to dissipate from her wound. On the fif
th day, when Whirley went to the doctor’s barn to feed and water Sundown, Danielle was in her boots and went with him. She wore her gun belt to get used to the weight of it again, her Colt tied down to her right thigh.
“You sure heal quick,” said Whirley, noting that she no longer limped as they crossed the empty street and walked toward the doctor’s house on the outskirts of town.
“I have to heal quick,” Danielle replied. “The longer I wait here, the colder the trail.” She had filled in both Whirley and Doc Callaway on everything that had happened. “I owe it to the Waddell woman to find her and free her from Cherokee Earl. It makes no difference what her husband has done. I’ve got to help her. I’ll deal with him when the time comes.”
Whirley nodded as they walked along. Lifting a hand to his toupee out of habit, he said, “Miss Danielle, if I might be so bold, I think you are about the prettiest woman I ever laid eyes on.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Whirley,” said Danielle, seeing where this might be headed and wishing she could stop it before it got there. But it was no use.
“The thing is,” he continued, “I’ll soon be leaving this shi—I mean, mud-hole ... and I’m going somewhere clean and sophisticated. Maybe Santa Fe. Maybe Tombstone. I ain’t sure.” He stopped and turned to her, touching her arm gently and stopping her also. “But wherever I go ... I’d be honored to have you by my side.” He swallowed and ventured, “That is to say, as my lawful wife, Miss Danielle.... Everything would be on the up and up, of course.”
“That certainly is a gentleman’s proposal, Mr. Whirley,” said Danielle, “and I appreciate it. But I’m afraid I must turn you down. I’m on the trail of these murderers, and I don’t plan on stopping until I’ve finished what I started.” She gestured toward the doctor’s barn, and together they continued walking.
Whirley looked let down but at the same time relieved. “Well, at least I got a chance to ask,” he said in all earnestness. “Some fellows never get this close to a respectable woman.”
“I’m flattered you feel that way, Mr. Whirley.” They walked on.
“Can I ask you, Miss Danielle, is it me, or are you just not interested in marrying at this time?” Whirley’s eyes turned soft, almost pleading for the right answer.
“It’s nothing against you, Mr. Whirley, although you have to admit we hardly know each other. It’s just that I’m not interested in marrying anybody right now. Someday maybe, but not now. If I was, there’s a man in Colorado ...”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” said Whirley good-naturedly. “For a minute I wondered if maybe there was something wrong with you.”
“You mean if I’m not interested in marriage, there must be something wrong with me?” Danielle felt the tightness in her voice and tried to shake it off.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” said Whirley. “Of course there’s nothing wrong with you.”
Danielle offered a smile of reconciliation. “That’s good to hear,” she said.
Whirley shrugged. “But if you don’t mind me saying so, Miss Danielle, I believe it’s awful foolish of you ... going out there after Cherokee Earl and his bunch.”
“Oh, really? Foolish, you say?” Danielle cocked an eye.
“Well, yes, foolish,” Whirley said with finality. “Doggone it, Miss Danielle, it don’t make sense, a little woman like yourself trying to do a man’s job. Heck, most men wouldn’t attempt to go after Cherokee Earl even with a posse backing them up! You’re talking about going after him alone.”
“And because I am, it’s foolish of me,” Danielle said flatly, staring straight ahead.
“Please don’t take offense,” said Whirley, “but let’s face it. That Colt is almost bigger than you are. If you ever had to draw and shoot at somebody, how do you expect to ever get it—”
The Colt streaked upward too fast for Leonard Whirley to see it clearly. All his eyes caught was a flash of sunlight on polished steel. Then four shots exploded as quickly as she could cock and fire. With each shot, a short length of chain holding a long wooden sign above the New Royal Saloon disappeared form one comer after the other until the sign collapsed to the street in a large puff of dust. Leonard watched, hunkering farther down with each shot, his arms rising and wrapping across his head as if to protect his toupee, his mouth agape.
“One thing’s for sure—you know what to say to turn a girl’s head.” Danielle opened her Colt, dropped out the spent cartridges, and replaced them while smoke still curled from the barrel.
“Wait, Miss Danielle!” Leonard called out, staring at his downed wooden sign for a moment in disbelief as he hurried to catch up to her. “I didn’t mean nothing by it, honest! I wouldn’t say something to offend you for nothing in this world.”
“I believe you, Mr. Whirley. I really, truly do,” said Danielle. “It’s just the way things are in this world. The only time I feel foolish is when I start making myself believe things might have changed.” She walked on, still without facing him.
For the next two days she avoided Leonard Whirley, but on the morning she left Braden Flats, Danielle made it a point to stop by the New Royal Saloon and thank him for having looked after Sundown for her.
“I wish you would stay another few days,” said Dr. Callaway when she stepped into her stirrups out front of his office. “You’ve been the first paying customer I’ve had for the longest time. I hate to loose you.”
Danielle smiled down at him. “I wish you and Mr. Whirley weren’t leaving here,” said Danielle. “I expect there will be no town here in a few weeks.”
The old doctor scratched his head as if considering it, then he said, “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”
With dried food in her saddlebags, and grain for Sundown, Danielle turned the chestnut mare in the street and rode away at an easy pace, eyeing the burnt remains of the telegraph office on her way. There was no way she would give up on hunting Cherokee Earl and his gang. The more she saw of their handiwork, the more she was convinced that she had to put a stop to them. She thought it a bit peculiar that neither the doctor nor Leonard Whirley had been able to tell from Ellen Waddell’s actions that she was being held against her will. But she realized that in a life-or-death situation a woman might very well go along with her captors until she saw a chance to break away. At least Danielle hoped that was the case, having lost so much precious time here.
At the edge of town, Danielle brought the mare up into a trot, testing the tenderness of her healed wound, feeling no pain there. She studied the hoofprints in the dirt, knowing that the trail had grown cold. Cherokee Earl and his gang could be any number of places by now. Once again she was on her own, the same as when she’d hunted her father’s killers. She was used to being alone, yet she missed having Stick beside her. From now on she had to watch her own back, not always an easy task for a woman unescorted in a man’s world.
Danielle knew her best bet was to stay on the north trail, follow it toward the highlands and see what, if anything, had happened along the string of towns that lay ahead of her. She was certain that a man like Cherokee Earl couldn’t go along without causing more trouble. His gang had tasted blood at the past two towns in a row. She was betting they would be wanting more.
Chapter 12
Following a narrow stream running down from a stretch of rocky hills, for two nights in a row Danielle made her camp alongside the water’s edge. The first night had been uneventful, sheltered as she was beneath a deep cliff overhang. But on the second night, in the hours before dawn, Danielle was awakened by Sundown nickering low and warily from where Danielle had grazed her in sweet grass less than twenty yards away. Hearing the mare, Danielle rolled quietly from her blanket, her rifle in hand. She crouched back out of the circling glow of firelight, listening for any sound out of the ordinary. For the rest of the night she stayed back away from the fire, blanket wrapped around her, barely seeing the silhouette of the mare in the moon’s glow.
At first light, Danielle picked
up Sundown’s bridle and walked down to where the big mare stood waiting. Sundown turned her head to face Danielle, and Danielle reached out a hand and rubbed the velvety muzzle. “Easy, girl,” Danielle whispered.
As she stroked the mare, her eyes searched along the stream, up along the rock ledges and into the darkened shadows and crevices. “What was up there?” Danielle asked quietly, as if at any moment the mare might answer. “Don’t you worry,” she added. “Whatever it is, if it’s still there, we’ll find it soon enough.”
She lifted the bridle onto the mare’s muzzle, adjusted it, and led the animal back to the campsite only a few yards away. Yes, there was someone watching her, she felt it plain as day. Unseen eyes followed her until she passed out of sight back into the rocks bordering the stream. Instinctively, she checked her Colt, then placed it back loosely into her holster. “Yep,” she repeated quietly to herself and the mare. “We’ll soon find out.”
Without preparing coffee or food, Danielle saddled the mare. Then she cleared the camp and rode off along the north trail alongside the stream before sunlight had crested the eastern skyline. Just past sunup she reached a place where the land flattened for the next few hundred yards before swooping upward again. Still following the stream, Danielle purposefully skylined herself to the hill trail below. She didn’t let herself be seen for long, just enough for whoever might be watching to know that she was not using good caution. Something a foolish woman would do, she reminded herself with a wry smile.
Had someone well-skilled with a rifle wanted her dead, right then would have been a good time to make their play. But they would have had to strike quickly, and even then risk everything they had on one shot. With a fast break for cover, she could easily duck into the rocks before they set their sights on her again.
As she rode, she watched both right and left, barely turning her head in either direction but rather shifting only her eyes beneath her lowered hat brim. Along the way she caught a glimpse of a wisp of trail dust stirring from the rocks and scrub juniper running parallel below. Whoever was down there was hurrying now, wanting to get past her and climb up onto the trail inside the rocks. That made sense, she thought. They weren’t out to ambush her. They wanted her to come upon them all at once, in surprise, face to face. All right, she would give them that. At a point where the trail climbed back up into the rocky hills, she prepared herself, letting her right hand rest on her thigh only inches from the butt of her Colt.
Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron Page 13