by Amanda Cabot
Austin clenched his teeth at this further evidence that something was wrong. Milking the cow was Seth’s job. He would never neglect that.
“Seth!” There was no answer. “Seth!” he called again. This time he heard what sounded like a moan coming from inside the barn. It was so faint that Austin wasn’t certain he’d heard it, but he pushed the door open and entered the ramshackle structure, trying not to gasp at the sight of a form lying on the ground. His years of training and his work in Philadelphia’s most dangerous neighborhoods had shown Austin the effect of men’s brutality, but nothing he had seen had prepared him for this.
“Seth.” He recognized the shirt, though the boy’s face was so battered as to be virtually unrecognizable. He lay curled in a ball, a mangled mass of flesh where his right hand had once been. The rest of his body appeared to be in little better shape. Rage, deeper and more intense than he had ever experienced, filled Austin with the desire to inflict the same pain on the man who’d done this.
“Seth, can you hear me?” Austin knelt next to the boy who’d been so brutally beaten that he was barely breathing. He was a doctor, a healer. What mattered now was helping his patient, not seeking vengeance.
Seth moaned.
“Who did this?” Though Austin was certain he knew the answer, he needed the confirmation.
“Pa.” The word escaped through lips that were twice their normal size.
“He won’t ever do that again.” Austin wasn’t certain how he’d prevent it, but he would find a way.
Austin’s hands moved quickly, cataloging the damage the man had done. A few more blows, and he might have killed his son. But, Austin suspected, Boone hadn’t wanted Seth to die. His goal had been causing the maximum amount of pain a body could sustain without shutting down. And, it appeared, he’d accomplished that. Though the pain must be excruciating, Seth was still alive. Thank you, God.
“I’m going to take you home with me,” Austin told Seth. The sooner they were out of here, the better. Though the boy was still alive, his shallow breathing told Austin that Seth’s grip on life was tenuous.
Austin rose and glanced at the Daltons’ wagon. As dilapidated as the barn itself, the wagon was unlikely to withstand the trip to the ranch. The best answer would be to bring his own wagon and transport Seth in that, but Austin had no intention of leaving the boy unprotected. As painful as it would be, he’d tie Seth onto Dusty and take him home that way.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said as he lifted Seth from the ground and carried him to his horse. Fortunately, before he began to strap him onto Dusty’s back, the boy lost consciousness. Thank you, God. For the second time in less than a minute, God had answered his prayer.
Austin mounted Dusty and was heading away from the barn when Boone staggered out of the farmhouse. “What’s goin’ on?” The way the man slurred his words confirmed Austin’s assumption that he’d drunk too much whiskey yesterday. “What you doin’ with the boy?”
“I’m taking him somewhere where he has a chance of living.” It took every ounce of self-control Austin possessed not to leap down from Dusty and pummel Seth’s miserable excuse for a father.
Boone shook his head, then frowned, obviously regretting the pain the simple act had caused. “You ain’t got no right.”
“And you’ve no right to kill.” Austin kept his hands on the reins. Though they were moving slowly to avoid injuring Seth further, each step Dusty took brought the boy closer to safety. “You’re lucky I got here when I did. Another hour and the sheriff would have been stringing you up for killing your son.”
Boone’s shrug said he would have had few regrets. “He had it comin’. A man’s gotta teach the whelp a lesson.”
Though Austin wished he could teach Boone a lesson, now was not the time. Instead, he asked as casually as he could, “Just what did Seth do that you thought deserved a beating?”
“He made the fellas laugh at me. One of ’em pulled out some magazine. Showed me a drawin’. It had the boy’s name on it, plain as could be. Seth Dalton of Cimarron Creek.” Boone’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fists in remembered anger. “I tole the boy he weren’t supposed to waste his time drawin’. I tole him what would happen if he did. He ain’t gonna be doin’ that no more.”
Boone took a step toward Austin. “And don’t you try blamin’ me. You wanna blame someone, look in the mirror. It was your picture the boy drew.” He shook his fist at Seth’s battered body. “This is your fault.”
22
The rich aroma of rising yeast filled the kitchen as Grace began to give the bread its second kneading. Catherine smiled. It was a beautiful Saturday in her favorite month of the year, June. That alone would fill her with happiness, but the icing on the cake, as it were, was the memory of Seth’s face when he’d seen his drawing in the magazine. He’d radiated so much happiness that even now, twenty-four hours later, she grinned at the thought of what the boy had accomplished.
She was still smiling when she heard the knock on the front door. Puzzled over who might be calling during what was normally the time when the women of the community either visited the shops or began their supper preparations, she hurried to open the door, then stopped, shocked by what she saw.
“What’s wrong, Austin?” She’d never seen such pain and anger on his face. Fear clutched her heart. “Is it Hannah? Did Enright find her?”
Austin shook his head. “She’s safe, but . . .”
“Come inside.” Though hardly anyone walked this direction, Catherine did not want a casual passerby to witness Austin’s distress. Even though he’d said Hannah was safe, something was worrying him.
“I need to see Travis,” he said when she closed the door behind him, “but I want your advice before I approach him.” Austin’s voice was low and ragged, filled with the pain and anger Catherine had seen in his eyes.
“Austin, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“You might want to sit down while I tell you what happened.”
“Now you’re really scaring me.” He sounded as if he expected her to faint over whatever it was he was going to say.
Her heart pounding with anxiety, Catherine led the way into the parlor and took one of the chairs, motioning him to the other so she could watch his face as he spoke.
“It’s Seth.” Furrows formed between Austin’s eyes. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll be blunt. Boone just about killed him.”
Catherine gasped. “What did he do?” She had seen bruises in the past and knew Boone was a violent and vicious man, but never had he come close to killing his son.
“He beat him more severely than I’ve ever seen a boy beaten and survive. When I found him, he could hardly breathe thanks to three broken ribs.” Austin clenched his fists, then took a shallow breath, as if remembering Seth’s tortured breathing. “God was definitely looking after Seth, because one of those ribs could have easily punctured a lung. His whole body is a mass of welts and bruises.”
Catherine closed her eyes, trying but failing to control her shudders. How could anyone be so brutal? She had thought that Boone was more content now that Austin was paying him for Seth’s services. Obviously, she had been wrong. Catherine forced her eyes open.
“And then there’s his hand.” Austin’s frown deepened. “I did what I could, but the bones were so badly crushed that it will take a miracle for them to heal properly. Seth will be lucky if he regains any use of it.”
Catherine shuddered. Hands were so sensitive. Even a paper cut hurt more on a finger than it would on any other part of the body. But Seth had suffered far more than a paper cut. He must be in agony. And knowing that he might never again be able to draw . . . Catherine let out another shudder.
“Poor, poor Seth. What I don’t understand is why Boone would do something so horrible.” Unless he’d been drunk, in which case anything could have triggered his anger. “Had he been drinking?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t what caused the anger. It seems he
learned about the contest and wasn’t happy that his son had defied him and was still drawing. That’s why he stomped on Seth’s hand, so he wouldn’t be able to hold a pencil again.”
The impact of Austin’s words made Catherine’s head reel. The contest. “It’s my fault.” The pain that swept through her was unlike anything she had ever experienced as guilt mingled with anguish over what Seth had suffered. “It’s all my fault.” Her voice was as ragged as Austin’s as her heart thudded more loudly than a drum. “I wanted Seth to have something good in his life. That’s why I encouraged him to draw and why I told him about the contest.”
Catherine shuddered again as the images Austin’s words had conjured whirled through her mind. “Oh, Austin, I was wrong, so very wrong. My pride made me think I knew what was best for Seth, and now he’s paying the price.”
Leaning forward, Austin placed his hand on hers in a gesture designed for comfort. Didn’t he realize that nothing could comfort her, not when she knew she was the reason for Seth’s being battered?
“You’re not alone in feeling guilty,” Austin said softly. “When I confronted him, Boone told me I was to blame because I encouraged Seth.” Austin’s eyes darkened. “I believed him at first, and it hurt. But when I was treating Seth’s wounds, I realized that only Boone is to blame. He’s the one who chose to injure his son.”
While that was true, it was little comfort.
“You know this isn’t the first time he’s hit Seth,” Austin continued.
“But it’s the worst. Based on what you said, he’ll never be able to draw again.”
Catherine looked around the parlor, remembering the day of the ice storm and how Seth had retreated to one corner to sketch when he’d grown tired of Hannah’s playing the music box. The room had been colder than the kitchen, but he’d insisted he didn’t mind. There would be no more days like that, no more sketching for Seth.
“I’m afraid that’s true.” Austin lifted her hand, perhaps comparing it to Seth’s mangled one. “As I said before, it’ll take a miracle for him to regain full dexterity in his right hand.”
“His right hand?” For the first time since Austin had told her what had transpired at the Dalton farm, Catherine felt a ray of hope.
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Thank you, God.”
“You’re thanking God that Seth’s hand was destroyed?” Austin’s voice was filled with incredulity.
“No,” Catherine said, opening her eyes and fixing her gaze on Austin. “I’m thanking him that Seth’s left hand was spared.” She looked down at her hands. While the right one was in Austin’s clasp, the left rested on her lap. She raised it and turned it palm upward. Five fingers, all intact. Thanks to God, that’s what Seth still had.
“Haven’t you noticed that he’s ambidextrous?” she asked. “I believe he’s naturally left-handed, but he told me that Boone would hit him if he ate with his left hand, so he learned to use his right. Seth can do most things with either one, but he writes and draws with his left hand.”
“And Boone didn’t pay enough attention to his son to know that.”
“Apparently not.” This was the first positive thing Catherine had seen in Boone’s neglectful parenting. “Where is Seth now?”
“At the ranch. That’s why I wanted your advice. I don’t want Seth to return to the farm, because there’s no telling what Boone might do. The next time he might actually kill him.” Austin closed his eyes for a second, his pained expression telling Catherine he was reliving the scene he’d found at the farm. “I was hoping Travis could help me and thought you might have an idea of how to approach him, since he’s your cousin as well as the town’s sheriff.”
It was Catherine’s turn to give comfort. She entwined her fingers with Austin’s as she said, “Don’t forget that he’s also an attorney. A good one.” Catherine tried not to sigh as she recalled the conversation she had had with Travis about Seth and Boone. “I’m not sure there’s anything Travis can do, but if there is, I know he’ll try. Let me tell Grace what’s happened. Then I’ll get my hat and gloves and go with you.”
“It’s no secret that I don’t particularly like Boone Dalton and that I trust him even less than I like him,” Travis said ten minutes later when he’d heard Austin’s story. “The problem is, Boone is Seth’s father. Legally, he can discipline his son any way he sees fit.”
“Even killing him?” Travis hadn’t seen what Austin had, and even if he had, he might not have recognized the severity of Seth’s injuries. A layman would have seen the welts and bruises, the bleeding flesh, but as a physician, Austin had been able to identify the even more dangerous internal injuries.
“No, Boone can’t kill him, but the fact is, he didn’t.”
And so Boone was free to continue his brutality. For the first time in his life, Austin understood why some men resorted to vigilante justice.
Before he could respond, Catherine leaned forward, placing her hands on the sheriff’s desk. “Isn’t there any way to keep Seth away from Boone?”
“Legally, no.” Once again, Travis confirmed what Austin had feared. Travis wanted to help, but his hands were tied. That meant it was up to Austin to protect Seth.
“What if I worked out a deal with Boone? From everything I’ve seen, he only cares about the work Seth does at the farm. What if I sent Kevin Moore to do Seth’s chores? Kevin’s big enough and old enough that Boone won’t be able to intimidate him.”
The more Austin considered it, the better he liked the plan. “I could argue that Boone wouldn’t have to spend any of that money he prizes so highly to feed or clothe Kevin. He’d be getting totally free labor in exchange for agreeing that Seth can remain on the ranch. If I have to, I’ll agree to keep paying him for the work Seth used to do for me, despite the fact that it’ll be weeks before he can handle even light chores.”
Travis nodded slowly. “That might work. You might be able to convince Boone to relinquish custody. If that happens, I’d be happy to draft the papers.”
“Do you think he’ll agree?” Catherine posed the question to her cousin.
“Probably not, but it’s worth a try.”
Catherine steeled herself not to cry. When she and Austin had arranged for her to join him and Hannah for Sunday supper, it was supposed to have been a happy occasion. They had both agreed that it was time to tell Hannah about Grace’s surgery so that she would not be surprised when Grace removed her veil. Though Grace had not set a date for that, Catherine suspected it would happen within the next few weeks, and she wanted Hannah to be prepared. Today was supposed to be a day for rejoicing, not witnessing the result of Boone’s brutality.
“Oh, Miss Whitfield, I’m so glad you could come.” Hannah’s face was wreathed in a smile, and she grasped Catherine’s hand as soon as she climbed out of the rented buggy. “You need to see what Seth made. It’s a drawing of Papa, and it looks just like him.”
The drawing. Catherine’s heart clenched at the thought of the pain Seth had endured because of that drawing.
“He won, you know.” Hannah sounded as pleased as if she’d been the one whose picture had been awarded first prize. “Come. You need to grad him.”
“Grad?” Catherine looked at Austin, who’d been watching his daughter with a bemused expression.
“I think she means congratulate.”
Hannah nodded and gave Catherine’s hand another tug. “C’mon. Seth’s waiting.”
He looked as bad as Catherine had feared, his face so bruised and swollen that it was almost unrecognizable, his right hand encased in a cast that extended almost to his elbow. But, despite the pain he must be in, he managed a smile.
“This is the first thing I ever won,” he said. And in that instant, Catherine knew she had witnessed another miracle. Somehow, despite everything he had endured, Seth did not regret having entered the contest. The judges had given him something Boone could not destroy.
“I have a secret, Papa. Do you wa
nt me to tell it to you?”
Austin smiled at his daughter. With all the secrets she’d had to keep, it was not surprising that she’d invented one of her own. “Are you sure you want to tell me?”
Both he and Catherine had impressed the need for secrecy on both Hannah and Seth when they had told them about the surgery Austin had performed on Grace. Initially, he hadn’t planned to include Seth in the discussion, but Catherine had pointed out that the boy was smart. It was likely he’d realize that Austin had greater knowledge of bodily injuries and how to repair them than an ordinary rancher would, and so Austin had agreed.
To his surprise, neither Hannah nor Seth appeared startled by the fact that Austin had been able to restore Grace’s face. Hannah had simply nodded and said, “I knew you could,” while Seth had declared that Austin could do anything. He couldn’t, of course, and the hero worship in Seth’s eyes had made him uncomfortable, but he’d been grateful that the children had accepted the announcement so calmly.
Hannah nodded so briskly that her braids bounced against her shoulders. “It’s all right, Papa. I want you to know my secret.”
“Then I’d be glad to hear it.”
Her face glowing, she climbed onto his lap and whispered into his ear. “I like Seth. I want him to be my brother.”
“I’d like that too.” Austin hugged his daughter as he thought about all that had happened in the two weeks since Seth’s beating. The boy had made a remarkable recovery. His bruises were almost gone, and though he still had trouble taking deep breaths because of the broken ribs and could do little with his right hand in a cast, he’d settled into life on the ranch.
When he’d first regained consciousness and learned that he was going to stay with Austin and Hannah for a while, Seth had volunteered to sleep in the barn, a suggestion that Austin had quickly vetoed. Seth would sleep in the bedroom across from his own. Like Travis, Austin did not trust Boone.
The man had refused to consider relinquishing his rights to Seth, although he made no protest when Austin offered to have Kevin take over Seth’s chores. When he’d left the farm, Austin had felt as if he were part of an uneasy truce. Boone had agreed that Seth could remain on the ranch until he was completely healed, declaring that the boy was of no use without two good hands, but he would make no promises beyond that. Unsure of what Boone would do the next time he drank too much whiskey, Austin was determined to keep Seth as safe as he could, and that meant ensuring that the boy was never alone.