Dear Lord, what are we going to do now? With a heaviness to her step, Elizabeth entered the house and trod up the steps to the sickroom.
At the bedside, Pamela looked up from bathing Lizzy's forehead, a question in her puffy, red eyes.
"Nick's not here. He and John must both be out hunting that wounded grizzly."
Lizzy's breath rattled in her throat. Even in sleep, the dark circles under her eyes turned her gaunt face into a death mask.
"What are we going to do?" Pamela whispered. "Her fever's higher, and we're out of ice."
Elizabeth sat down in the chair next to Pamela, reached for her friend's hand and squeezed it.
"Beth, I'm afraid Lizzy's dying. She doesn't have much time left." Pamela's voice broke.
At the sight of the pain on her friend's face, Elizabeth felt her heart tear into little pieces. "No," Elizabeth said fiercely. "We won't let her. Pamela, we have to break her fever."
"How? There's no ice."
"The river. We'll take her to the pool."
"Moving her might kill her."
"Not reducing the fever will kill her, Pamela. It's our only hope."
Pamela squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. When she opened them again, Elizabeth saw a new resolve replace her previous look of despair. "We'll take the horses." Pamela said. "Go ask Mark to saddle them. I'll bring Lizzy down."
Elizabeth gave Pamela's hand a final squeeze before rising from her chair and racing out the door. As she ran, she bundled up her blue calico skirt. Once outside, she skidded to a stop. "Mark, run to the barn and saddle a horses for me and your mother."
Both children jumped up at the tone in her voice.
"We're taking Lizzy to the pool to cool her fever."
"But Aunt Elizabeth," Mark protested. "Only Outlaw and Belle are in the barn. The others are in the pasture. And we've only one ladies' saddle."
Elizabeth knew if she stopped to think about what she was going to do, she'd be too afraid to act. "Put the ladies saddle on Belle for your Mama and Lizzy. We'll let them start ahead to the river, then saddle Outlaw for me. Do you think you can handle Outlaw?"
"I've been helping Nick with him.
"Good. Get him. And don't tell your mama. She'd waste time arguing with me, and we don't have it to waste."
"Nick's going to kill you, if Outlaw doesn't." Mark took off running, Sara at his heels.
That’s the least of my worries. Elizabeth hurried back inside.
Pamela, with a blanket-wrapped Lizzy in her arms, carefully descended the stairs.
Elizabeth rushed to help her. "Mark's saddling up Belle for you and Lizzy." She slid one arm around Pamela's waist while the other supported the child. "I'll grab some more blankets and anything else we might need and follow you."
"Mama, Mama." They heard Sara's piping voice through the open door and hurried out to the porch. Sara perched atop Belle, one blue-denim clad pant leg draped over the saddle horn of the ladies saddle. "Here's Belle." Sara unlocked her leg from around the horn and slid from the saddle. "Mark's bringing Aunt Elizabeth's horse."
"Very good, darling." Pamela tenderly handed Lizzy over to Elizabeth.
The child felt too light in her arms. She'd withered away to nothing. Elizabeth remembered the first time she'd carried Lizzy--how, like a monkey, the child had wrapped her arms and legs tightly around her. Now as she looked down at Lizzy's limp body, she prayed. This has to work. Please, God, let the river cool her fever.
Pamela led Belle over to the mounting block, hoisted herself into the saddle, and gathered the reins. Elizabeth dropped a quick kiss on Lizzy's pale cheek, then handed her goddaughter up to her mother's waiting arms.
Pamela cuddled Lizzy close. "You and Mark remain here," she ordered Sara. "Stay in the house."
"Yes, Mama."
"Get going," Elizabeth said. "I'll be right behind you. I'm just going to get a gun."
Pamela nodded and urged Belle to a walk.
Elizabeth waited until Pamela rode out of earshot. "Tell Mark to get Outlaw," she told Sara. She turned back to the house. Once inside, she ran down the hall to John's study. She hadn't been inside it since that day she and Pamela had target practice.
Her gaze roamed the rack of rifles before she crossed over to the desk, and slid open the drawer that held Pamela's Colt. As she picked up the gun, her fingers trembled. She opened the loading gate, pulled the hammer to the half-cocked position and rotated the cylinder. Five cartridges nestled inside--just as Nick had left it. She lowered the hammer on the empty cylinder and closed the loading gate.
Looking around, Elizabeth spotted a worn leather gun belt and empty holster hanging on a peg by the door. She slipped the Colt into the holster, lifted it off, and buckled the belt around her waist. It slithered down past her hips, and she made a hasty grab before the gun landed on the floor.
With an exhalation of annoyance, she unbuckled the belt and wrapped it twice around her waist. There. She slid the Colt into the holster and grabbed a faded red Indian blanket tossed across one of the leather chairs. Now to face Outlaw.
Outside by the porch, Mark held Outlaw's reins; apprehension etched across the boy's freckled face. His eyes widened when he saw the gun belt draped around her waist. "That pistol won't stop a grizzly, Aunt Elizabeth. You'd better take a rifle."
"I can't even hit the target with the rifle."
Mark shook his head. "Probably won't see that ole bear anyway. It's Nick you'd better worry about. When he sees you've taken Outlaw, he's going to be mighty angry."
Elizabeth shifted her blanket to one arm and with her other hand tilted Mark's chin. "I have to do this, Mark," she said, trying to project an assurance she didn't feel. "We have to get Lizzy to the river, and I can't let your mother go alone, not with the threat of the grizzly."
Mark nodded, his eyes still unhappy. "Outlaw's never been ridden by anyone but Nick. You'll have to ride him astride. And your skirt might spook him more."
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, but resolutely stepped forward and caressed the horse's gray nose. "Outlaw," she murmured. "Please, I need to ride you. Please." Her voice caught on the last word.
Outlaw snorted and shook his head.
Elizabeth clamped down on her fear. "Here." She handed the blanket to Sara, who'd been standing silently. Gathering up the middle of her blue skirt, she tucked it into her waistband, wishing she wore the trousers she'd distained when she first arrived.
Without stopping to think, she reached for the saddle horn. Outlaw shied away before her fingers could clasp the saddle, and her fingers slithered across the leather. Stepping closer, she grabbed for the horn again. This time her fingers securely grasped it, and she placed her foot in the stirrup. It was a long reach, and she wondered if she should use the porch steps as a mounting block.
Outlaw took two dancing steps sideways, forcing Elizabeth to hop to keep up with him. Feeling foolish and angry, Elizabeth wondered if she'd even manage to get in the saddle, much less ride the darn beast. She pulled her foot. "Please, Outlaw, we don't have time for this."
Mark pulled on the horse's reins with one hand, and with the other, pushed Outlaw's side in an effort to stop him.
Taking advantage of the momentary pause, she hoisted herself into the saddle.
The horse rose on his hind legs, pulling Mark off balance. Elizabeth clenched her legs around his girth and clung to the saddle horn, praying Mark could hold him.
With a snort and toss of his head, Outlaw settled to the boy's soft talk and pressure on the reins. Holding tightly to the saddle horn, Elizabeth reached down and tucked her skirt securely around her legs.
Mark adjusted the stirrups, looped the reins over the horse's head, and handed them to her. She reached out to Sara for the blanket, and set it on her lap, tucking a folded corner into her waistband.
For a tense moment, Elizabeth waited for the explosion she was sure would come. When nothing happened, she flashed a nervous grin at Mark and spared one for Sara. Then, she kicked Out
law and took off after Pamela.
At first, Elizabeth held herself stiffly against the movement of the horse, trying to anticipate whatever tricks Outlaw might play on her, but after a few moments, she settled into his rhythm. She enjoyed the unusual sensation of riding astride and feeling the powerful muscles of the horse move beneath her legs. She'd never experienced anything like it. If she hadn't been so fraught with fear over Lizzy, Elizabeth would have lost herself in the experience. Maybe someday....
She caught up with Pamela and Lizzy when they'd almost reached the river.
Pamela glanced over at her, and her eyes widened. "Elizabeth Hamilton! What are you doing riding that horse? Nick's going to be so angry with you!"
"Nick's not around," Elizabeth said tartly.
"Well, you'd better not break your neck. We've enough problems as it is."
"I won't."
Pamela glanced down at her frail daughter--a feeble bundle in her arms. "Will this help her, Beth?"
"It will, Pam." It has to.
At the pool, Elizabeth reined in. Uttering another prayer, she slid her foot from the stirrup, awkwardly swung her leg over the horse, and dismounted. She tied the reins to a nearby bush and gave a quick stroke to the horse's neck. "Thank you, Outlaw."
Elizabeth reached up for Lizzy, and Pamela handed her down. Holding the child close, Elizabeth placed a kiss on the hot, dry skin of her forehead. Lizzy barely opened her eyes before her eyelids drooped shut.
Pamela tied Belle to the bush, and sitting on the log by the water, removed her shoes. Kilting her dress up, she reached out for her daughter. With one more kiss, Elizabeth handed her over. Helping Pamela unwind the blanket, she then pulled off the child's shift. With Lizzy in her arms, Pamela waded out into the pool, and slowly lowered her into the water.
Lizzy stirred enough to utter a mewing protest.
"It'll help you, darling," Pamela crooned, submerging her daughter until, except for her face, water covered her entire body. "It feels good, doesn't it?"
Elizabeth sat on the log, undid her shoes, and pulled off her stockings. She unstrapped the gun belt and folded it into the blanket to protect the gun from errant splashes.
Stepping into the water, she relished the coolness against her feet and legs. The pool looked shallower and the water didn't seem as chill as it had been several weeks earlier.
The dangerous ride on Outlaw safely over, the peaceful silence of the quietly flowing river gave Elizabeth a sense of relaxation. Surely this beautiful pool would help Lizzy.
Wading over to Pamela, she slipped a hand under Lizzy's shoulder and waist, helping to support the little girl. Buoyed by the water, Lizzy's slight weight felt even lighter. Her skin gleamed pale against the green water, dark hair fanning around her head. Elizabeth moved her hand from under Lizzy's bony shoulder, trying to cool the child's face by brushing her palm across the little girl's forehead and cheeks. "Her skin's still too warm."
"But she does seem a bit cooler, doesn't she?" Pamela's eyes begged.
Elizabeth dribbled more water over Lizzy's face, careful not to trickle any in the child's eyes, then she cupped her forehead. "I do believe you're right. She does feel cooler."
Minutes passed quietly, with the two women hardly daring to hope.
A snap of broken branches cut the stillness, a rustling of the bushes downstream across the river. With a flash of frightened intuition, Elizabeth knew.
The grizzly.
#
A breeze caressed Nick's cheek, a touch of coolness in the oppressive heat. The breath of humidity differed from the scent of the river where he and John searched for bear signs. He lifted his head in surprise at the hint of moisture in the dry air. He hadn't felt any breeze in weeks. Scanning the sky, he saw gray clouds building in the distance. A storm. He whooped with excitement.
Across the water and upriver about twenty feet, John Carter knelt, examining the embankment. At Nick's whoop, he scrambled to his feet, reaching for his rifle.
"Look," Nick called, pointing at the corner of graying sky. "Storm clouds."
A grin split John's weary face. He clasped his hands together and waved them over his head, almost knocking off his hat. "We'd better head back," he called.
Nick untied Freckles' reins from the bushes, pulled them over the horse's head, and mounted. Downstream about fifty feet, the river flowed over a sandy bed, free of the boulders that made most of the river too dangerous to cross.
He urged Freckles into the water. The horse balked at the current swirling around his knees, but a firm nudge with a boot heel sent Freckles plunging into the cold green depths. In the last weeks, the drought had tamed the river--the water didn't even reach Freckles' belly.
The horse had almost crossed the river when an ominous feeling clenched Nick's gut. He yanked out his Colt, kicked Freckles up the bank, through the trees, and out into the open. Nothing.
Angling Freckles around in a circle, he studied each bush and tree. Nick's nostrils flared. Searching for any clue of danger, he listened with all his might. Still nothing.
The area seemed peaceful, but his unease only deepened. The focus appeared to be located quite a ways downstream. He sheathed the Colt and rubbed his neck. The familiarity of the feeling itched at his memory. Mentally he scrolled back over the past weeks, searching to remember. Then it came to him--he'd felt this way the day the women and children picked berries!
"John," he shouted. "John!"
John galloped into sight from around the tree-shaded bend in the river and reined his black stallion in next to Nick. "What?"
"I don't know exactly. Something with the women and children."
John was familiar with Nick's instincts, and his face paled under his ruddy tan. "Where?"
"Downstream."
"Downstream? Why the hell would they be at the river?"
"No idea." Nick pulled at the reins, turning Freckles. "Let's go." He kneed Freckles into a gallop. Please, God, let us get there in time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
More bushes crackled. Elizabeth's heart pounded at the sound. "Get Lizzy to the horses," she whispered, moving in front of Pamela and pushing her toward the shore.
Pamela looked confused. "Elizabeth, what are you doing?"
"The grizzly, Pam. The one the men are hunting. It's here."
The recognition came too late. The bear broke though the brush opposite them, thirty feet from the bank of the river.
For Elizabeth, time slowed. She'd faced a grizzly before. But this time she grew even more afraid. She had more at stake and no Nick to rescue them.
Her stomach clenched. Her knees shook, but her brain remained clear. Elizabeth's eyesight sharpened on details ... how the bear's face and body were a silver-tipped brown, with only a brown bib surrounding its neck ... how the shoulder wound oozed glistening blood, darkening the brown fur to black ... how, as the grizzly started toward the water, she could see what must be four-inch claws extending from its paws.
The bear planted its forelegs wide and lumbered side to side, luffing its jowls.
A scream gurgled up from Pamela. Clutching Lizzy to her breast, she splashed toward the bank.
Elizabeth angled toward the shore where she'd left the blanket. Why, oh why, didn’t I keep the Colt nearby? She scrambled over the log and grabbed the blanket, yanking loose its folds. The gunbelt and holster bounced to the ground. She scooped the holster up, pulling out the gun.
Pamela cried out again. Lizzy whimpered and struggled in her mother's arms. Hampered by the child, Pamela slipped, and they both fell under the water.
Elizabeth hopped back over the log, dragged Pamela up with one hand, trying to ignore Lizzy's weak wails. The other shaking hand pointed the gun toward the grizzly, plodding toward them, seeming to favor its right side.
As the animal approached the water, Elizabeth thrust Pamela behind her. Willing herself to calmness, she steadied the gun with both hands. Keep your eyes open, she heard Nick's voice in her head. The warmth of t
he memory strengthened her arms, but didn't slow her rapidly beating heart.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, thumbed the hammer back, and squeezed the trigger.
Crack.
The monster jerked, but continued its hulking shamble to the water.
She shot again. Missed.
Steady, Elizabeth. Nick's voice again.
Taking another breath, she fired. Another jerk from the bear, but it continued into the water. The animal reared to its hind legs. Its mouth opened, showing long yellow fangs. The sight of the huge monster towering a few yards away from her threatened to make Elizabeth faint, but she forced the waves of dizziness away from her.
Nick, where are you? She bit her lip.
Aim for the heart. Nick's words focused her aim.
In rapid succession, she fired off the last two rounds.
The grizzly froze, then leaned forward.
"Oh, no," Elizabeth moaned. Why-oh-why, didn’t I bring more bullets?
Then the bear slowly toppled sideways, landing with a splash in the water.
#
At the sound of a scream, Nick thought his heart would stop with fear. Bending low over the horse's neck, he kicked Freckles to a faster gallop, wishing he rode his wind-racer, Outlaw. He pulled his Colt from the holster. From the corner of his eye, he saw John do the same.
The crack of gunshots scared him right down to his boots. What’s happening? God, please keep her safe.
Rounding the bushes, Nick and John burst into the clearing by the pool, almost running down Belle and Outlaw, who skittered out of the way. Their horses skidded to a stop. Why the hell is Outlaw here? But his concentration focused on Elizabeth, standing in front of Pamela and Lizzy--facing down the wounded grizzly with only a pistol.
Nick jammed his Colt back in the holster and yanked out the Winchester. Sighting down the barrel, he watched the animal collapse before he could pull the trigger.
His shoulders relaxed. Relief burst through his body, setting his hands to shaking. Keeping a wary eye on the bear, he lowered the rifle.
Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) Page 25