Sourdough Creek

by Caroline Fyffe

  ***

  Sam handed the bowl of ice to Miss Hershey and went directly to Josephine’s side. “Any change?” He ran his hand over her hair, taking in the small scrap on her face with a heavy heart. She looked so sweet. Like a little angel. But the heat radiating up into his hand was more than he could handle. He turned to face the nurse.

  “No,” she replied, holding the pan. “She hasn’t woken up. But this ice should help.”

  Miss Hershey’s eyes lit with pleasure when the young man Sam had met in the jail followed him through the door. He took off his hat and held it in his hands.

  “Jonathan, what brings you out tonight?” she asked, her voice softening.

  “I ran into this fellow down at the jail,” he said, nodding at Sam. “He needs our help.”

  “No word from your father?” Sam asked.

  “No. And I’m extremely worried. He’s never done this before, gone off without letting me know where he is or when he’d be returning. I have no idea what could be keeping him away so long.”

  Sam rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s get this ice placed around Josephine before it melts. We’ll need some towels.”

  Miss Hershey left and returned within minutes with several towels. Sam lifted Josephine in his arms as she laid one out underneath her.

  “Okay, set her back down,” Jonathan said.

  Annabelle and Sam quickly rolled the remaining towels up and put them around Josephine, forming barriers to hold the ice. That done, they laid the ice all around her small body.

  Jonathan stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “Now that the important things are done, I’d like to introduce myself. We never got a chance to meet proper in the jail. The name’s Jonathan Pearson.” They shook.

  Sam’s mind was anywhere but here. He had to get out there and look for Cassie. Any number of things could have happened to her.

  Sam looked at Josephine and was filled with warmth. He took her hands in his. “She feels cooler,” he said as his thumb caressed the back of her hands. “Feel.”

  Miss Hershey placed her cheek on Josephine’s forehead. “I don’t know. She seems the same to me. I think it’s a little too soon yet to expect the ice to be working.”

  “What else can we do?” Sam asked, frustrated. “You must have some medicine here.”

  “Nothing for a fever, Mr. Ridgeway. It’s up to Josephine now to fight off the infection from within. The fever helps her do that. All we can do is try to keep it from going too high. The rest is up to her.”

  Sam was torn. He didn’t want to leave Josephine, not for a second, but he needed to find Cassie. Making a split-second decision, he grabbed his hat from the wall and put it on.

  Both Jonathan and Miss Hershey looked surprised.

  “The right fork before town. Where does it lead?”

  “Clayton. But it’s a rough road. And long. A good three days’ ride.”

  “Do you have a fresh horse I could use?” Sam asked.

  Jonathan’s eyes narrowed.

  “In order to get Josephine here as fast as I could I had to leave her sister behind. I think she must have gotten lost.”

  “And taken the road to Clayton?”

  “Exactly. It’s the only thing I can think of.” That wasn’t quite the truth, but Sam didn’t want to go into all the other possibilities that could be holding her up.

  He grabbed the doorknob. “Take good care of her.”

  Annabelle nodded.

  Jonathan put his hat on also.

  “I won’t leave Josephine’s side for one moment, Mr. Ridgeway,” Annabelle called as the men hurried out the door. “I’ll care for her as if she were my own.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The horse Sam was riding pricked his ears as if sensing something ahead in the dark, something Sam couldn’t yet see or hear.

  “Cassie,” he called out. “That you?”

  “Sam!”

  The answering call was loud and clear. It was Cassie all right, but it also sounded as if the whole United States Cavalry was descending on him. Pepper reached him first, circling the new horse with great interest. Sam dismounted and tied his horse to a tree, hurrying out to meet her. Without a word, he swept Cassie from the saddle and held her close to his chest, thankful she was alive.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” she said, huddled in the safety of his arms. “It’s been a wild night. How’s Josephine? Did you find a doctor? Is she better?” Her voice was wary, as if expecting the worst.

  “She’s at the doctor’s now,” he whispered close to her ear. “They’re doing all they can.” He didn’t want to tell her about the doctor being missing. Not now, with so much time and distance between her and her sister. That could wait. He rubbed her back.

  Cassie leaned back, looking up into his face. “Thanks for coming for me.”

  He tucked her chin-length hair behind one ear, stroking down her curved jaw line with his thumb. “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you,” he replied softly, wondering at the surge of emotion he was feeling. “How are you? I was worried.”

  Cassie’s face crumpled and she tucked her head back into his shoulder. “They killed Ashes,” she whispered against his chest. “Just shot her for no reason.” She trembled and Sam pulled her closer.

  “Who?” His cheek pressed softly to the top of her head and he felt a pang of sadness for the pesky ol’ cat.

  “Some men. I hid in the bushes when I heard them coming. Then, Ashes showed up and got their attention right when they were about to find me.”

  “It sounds like you think the cat’s actions were deliberate.”

  “I know it sounds crazy, Sam, but that’s what it seemed like. One man, he…he pulled out his gun and shot her. It was horrifying.”

  Sam held her away from him so he could see in her face, but didn’t let go of her completely.

  “How many were there?” These must be the friends of the prisoner in jail. The man named Spencer.

  She took a step back and he instantly felt the void. “Three. But they said they were going to meet some more.”

  “Where did they go?”

  She pointed in the opposite direction. “Up the road. That way.”

  Sam surveyed his surroundings in the dark. “That way leads to Clayton. Maybe they have a hideout somewhere up there.”

  “You know who they are?”

  “I think so. Rosenthal has a killer in their jail waiting for the territorial judge to show up. He claims to have a gang just waiting to break him out before the town can hang him. Maybe he’s telling the truth.”

  She gasped. “Are you saying they could be headed back to Rosenthal right now?”

  “Josephine’s safe. They were going to the jail, not the doctor’s office.”

  “They were talking about something like that. About one of their brothers being in jail and wanting him out. They said they’d be gone by this time tomorrow, but not before they killed a lot of people.”

  Cassie ran to Meadowlark’s side and mounted. “Come on—we’ve got to get back!”

  Sam mounted. “I’m thinking the exact same thing. You up to riding some more?”

  Her weary expression was gone, replaced with determination. “Just try to stop me!”

  ***

  It was near daybreak when they finally rode up to the hitching rail in front of the doctor’s office and dismounted. Unable to wait, Cassie tried the door while Sam tied all four of the animals and collected the saddlebags.

  “Give her a second, Cassie,” Sam called. “She’ll open up.”

  Cassie knocked on the door a second time. “The doctor is a woman?”

  “No. It’s the doctor’s daughter who’s watching over Josephine at the moment. Unless her father has returned.”

  Cassie turned as Sam joined her in front of the locked door. “You never told me that. Does she know what she’s doing?”

  “Keep your voice down. You’re going to wake the whole town.” Sam put his ear to the d
oor, listening. He knocked gently with one knuckle.

  “Here she comes. I can hear her footsteps.”

  The curtain in the window was pulled back and a young woman peeked out. The door opened. “Thank goodness it’s you. Come in, Mr. Ridgeway. Hurry.”

  With Sam and Cassie inside, the black haired young woman locked the door and leaned against it. Cassie rushed over to Josephine’s side, placing her hand on her forehead. “I’m here now, sweetie. I’m here.” She ran her hand back and forth over Josephine’s soft hair, remembering the day she cut it. A sob lodged in her throat. Why, she doesn’t look better at all!

  “This is Annabelle Hershey, the doctor’s daughter and assistant,” Sam said, as the woman walked over to the other side of the table where Josephine slept. She put her hand on Josephine’s forehead, too. “This is Cassie, Josephine’s sister.”

  Miss Hershey brows drew down in confusion. “Sister?” She glanced over her shoulder at Sam. “Then—she’s your daughter, also?”

  Sam shrugged. “No. We’re all just traveling together.”

  “Please, how is Josephine? Has her fever come down at all?” asked Cassie.

  Miss Hershey’s brows drew down in worry. “Exactly the same as when Mr. Ridgeway left. She hasn’t woken up, either.”

  Cassie tried to hide her crushing disappointment. All this time she’d been picturing her sister better, and now this. It was too much to accept.

  “Has something else happened, Miss Hershey? You look upset,” Sam asked. Her eyes had filled with unshed tears.

  “Yes. They found my father. He’s been beaten half to death and is unconscious. Jonathan thinks it was the outlaws the prisoner keeps bragging about. Rosenthal is in great danger keeping him locked up.” She looked away. “I think my father may die.”

  “Where is Jonathan now?”

  “He’s trying to round up some men. Unfortunately, there aren’t many in this little town. Well, not many who are able bodied and know how to shoot well. Until the day that atrocious man killed the sheriff, this was a peaceful place. So much has changed so quickly.”

  Sam’s gaze sought Cassie’s as she held Josephine’s hand. It spoke volumes, and she shuddered inwardly. He squeezed her shoulder in passing as he went into the other room, followed by Miss Hershey. Cassie glanced in as Sam looked the doctor over.

  “He’s not good, not good at all,” Miss Hershey choked back. She pulled the sheet up closer to his chin and tucked it around him gently. “I don’t think he’ll make it more than a few more hours.”

  The gray-haired man was deathly white. His face, heavy with wrinkles, was so still Cassie thought he looked dead now. On the bedside table were his glasses, lying on a book.

  This must be Annabelle’s room because it was decorated in greens and pinks, with a big stuffed teddy bear sitting close to the bed in a whitewashed rocking chair. Several pretty dresses hung in a small closet and an array of perfume and toiletries mingled on a highboy.

  So much had changed so quickly with her, also. She’d been so relieved when she’d heard Sam’s voice calling in the darkness of the night. She’d just expected things to be different here…Josephine was supposed to be safe, with a doctor. Recovering.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was a knock on the door. “Open up. It’s Jonathan,” a deep voice called through the weathered wooden panels.

  Annabelle dashed past Cassie and unlocked the door. A tall young man slipped inside the room, closing the door behind him. The doctor’s daughter fell into his embrace. His hands pulled her closer, unmindful of their visitors.

  “How’s he doing?” he asked softly, his gaze finding Cassie as he spoke.

  “I fear the worst. How could anyone treat an old man so? I don’t understand.”

  The newcomer set Miss Hershey aside gently. “I can only tell you that they’re more animal than human. Not the kind of men you’re used to.”

  Sam stepped forward. “What have you found out?”

  “There’s going to be a town meeting over in the saloon in a few minutes. Most of the men who live in the township will be there.”

  “Across the street?”

  Jonathan nodded, his eyes troubled.

  Sam turned to Cassie. “Get your gun out and make sure it’s loaded. I’m going to go to the meeting to find out what this is all about. If you need anything at all just call out. I’ll hear you.”

  She went over to her saddlebags lying in the corner and took the pistol out, checking the chamber. Placing a box of extra cartridges on a ledge by the woodstove, she held the heavy gun, her eyes resting on Josephine. “I can take care of things here.”

  As the men turned to leave, Jonathan set Annabelle away. “Everything is going to be okay. You just stay put and keep this door locked.” He nodded toward Cassie, whom he’d not yet been introduced to. “This boy looks plenty capable. He’ll keep a close watch out for trouble.”

  Sam chuckled, then cleared his throat. “Ah, this boy’s really a girl. Josephine’s sister I was telling you about. Cassie Angel, that’s Jonathan Pearson and Miss Annabelle Hershey. ”

  Cassie tried to smile. She should feel pleased that her getup had worked so well, even if she did feel shabby next to Annabelle. “Sam, be careful.” She set her gun on the side table next to Josephine. He was so much older and experienced compared to the man named Jonathan. Even though she’d known Sam only a short time, she was confident he was as skilled with his gun. He could take care of himself, and them also, if need be.

  The soft lamplight must be playing tricks with her vision. Sam’s expression was different from anything she’d seen before. There was something soft there, sweet. Almost a boyish longing as his dark hair framed his face.

  She glanced away, remembering his warm breath on her ear, his cheek caressing the top of her head. Could this be the same Sam Ridgeway who’d barged into their life only a few days before, offering protection and safe passage?

  “Will do,” he finally replied.

  “We won’t be letting anyone in,” Miss Hershey assured Sam. “Will we…ah, Cassie?”

  Cassie shoved her hands in her pockets and looked at the two lovebirds standing hand in hand. “No, we won’t.”

  The door shut quietly behind the men and the two women stood looking at each other.

  What must Annabelle be thinking? Cassie wondered as she nervously shoved her hair behind her ear and turned back to Josephine. Her clothes and ragged appearance were a far cry from the beautiful picture the nurse made, even in her disheveled state. “What can I do for her now?” She picked up Josephine’s little, limp hand and kissed her fingertips.

  “I think we should remove the damp towels and put dry bedding around her,” Annabelle answered.

  “Annie?” A soft plea came from the other room.

  Annabelle sucked in her breath and ran to her father’s side. Cassie followed.

  “Water.” He whispered the one word so softly Annabelle had to lean close.

  “Here, Daddy.” She lifted his head and held a cup of water to his lips.

  His eyes widened briefly and his last breath came out on a sigh, his head rolling to the side. It knocked the cup from Annabelle’s hand which clattered to the floor, spilling water everywhere.

  “Daddy?”

  Frantically, she patted his sallow cheek several times. “Daddy. Daddy!”

  Annabelle’s voice rose higher with each passing moment. She took him by the shoulders and gently shook him. When he didn’t respond, she collapsed onto his motionless chest, crying uncontrollably.

  Hurrying over, Cassie placed her fingers on the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. When she was sure that the poor doctor was indeed dead and nothing more could be done for him, she sat on the side of the bed and rubbed Annabelle’s back, not knowing what else to do.

  Annabelle was inconsolable, her sobs wracking her small frame so violently that they rocked the bed. Her fingers gripped the man’s bedclothes in a tightfisted ball.

  “Here, Ann
abelle,” Cassie said. She pulled the girl’s stiff body away from her father’s, and turned her in her arms. She held Annabelle tightly, remembering the day her own mother had died. “Go ahead and cry,” Cassie whispered.

  Many minutes passed as Annabelle let her grief flow. Then she quieted and pulled away. Her eyes were vacant, lost. The clock on the mantel chimed softly. Cassie stood and pulled the sheet up over the departed doctor’s head. It hadn’t been that long since she’d done the same for her mother.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sam stood just inside the swinging doors, taking in the barroom. It was dingy and dark. It reeked of stale, dirty bodies.

  “Quiet!” the bartender shouted. His wooden gavel banged down several times on the bar top, rattling whiskey stained glasses and dishes soiled with leftover food from the night before. His eyes shone brightly with excitement above his long, gray handlebar mustache. “I will have order here!”

  Jonathan, his elbow dangerously close to the banging gavel, was talking with a farmer. A skinny little man with a wooden leg stood nearby, listening. Two boys, who looked a lot like Jonathan, sat at the other end of the bar, rolling dice. Neither one looked a day over fifteen.

  Bang, bang, bang!

  Jonathan’s face pinched in annoyance and he covered his ear with his hand. “Walter, do you have to pound that thing so hard? We’re all right here.”

  “Yer darn tootin’ I do. This here’s important business. Y’all need t’ shut yer traps.”

  One man, draped across the top of a scuffed-up table in a pile of disheveled playing cards, snored loudly. His partner threw back another shot glass filled with whiskey and belched. Sam counted that as his third since he’d pushed through the doors and joined the group.

  Walter pointed the gavel at him. “We’ll have civility here, Chester! Now, wake Larry up. Ever’ man counts.”

  The drunkard shook the shoulder of his sleeping friend. “Larry,” he slurred into his ear. “Wake up! All hell’s breaking loose.”