Long Time Gone

by Mary Connealy

  Justin stepped away, then came back quickly with a tin cup.

  She saw the love Justin had for his brother. It seemed so at odds with how she’d always thought of family, despite Aunt Margaret’s kindness. Aunt Margaret was Angie’s father’s sister. And her mother had always disparaged Aunt Margaret’s manners as coarse and common, her religion boring and foolish.

  And when everything her ma had forced Angie into went wrong and Ma had died, leaving her to a disastrous fate, Aunt Margaret had saved her and taught Angie a lesson about love she wouldn’t soon forget.

  “Angie.” The doctor again snapped out orders. “Go fetch more warm water. We need to bathe the blood away. And ask Rosita for a clean nightshirt for Cole. She could make some broth, too. He needs water most of all, but if Cole wakes up, we should try to get some food into him.”

  Angie hurried to obey, keeping the list in her head. Not that it mattered, for she was sure the doctor would remind her of anything she forgot.

  Angie rushed to the kitchen and was filling a basin just as the back door opened.

  Sadie and Heath came in.

  “How’s Cole?” Sadie, Cole’s sister, looked frantically around.

  “The doctor is with him in the bedroom just down the hall.”

  “Thank you.” Sadie hurried away with Heath right after her.

  Angie followed with hot water.

  She stepped into the room as Justin shouted, “Sadie!” His voice was loud enough to wake the owls in the woods at high noon, let alone a merely unconscious man. Cole’s eyes flickered open and he smiled at Sadie as if her coming inside was terribly important. Justin hoisted Sadie in the air and hugged her.

  The sight stopped Angie so suddenly the water sloshed and nearly spilled. She’d never seen such a display of true affection from a man before. Cole couldn’t get up and hug her, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure.

  Justin set her back down with a broad smile and shook Heath’s hand, then slapped him on the back hard enough a smaller man might’ve just been knocked straight to the floor.

  Heath held up well and started talking to Justin fast and quiet. Angie couldn’t understand what he said, except that a man had attacked them and was now dead. Her attention was turned as Sadie sat down on the side of the bed and took Cole’s hands.

  “How are you?”

  “Just fine. The doctor patched me up.”

  Something flickered across Sadie’s face, the expression equivalent of calling her brother a liar. Sadie looked at the doctor as if talking to Cole were a complete waste of time. “Where was he shot? Did he need stitches? How long will he be in bed? What do we need to do to care for him?”

  The doctor started talking, and Sadie listened to him as if his words were being carved in stone with a finger of fire.

  Angie was in the middle of the two chattering pairs. The doctor and Sadie, hovering over Cole, Heath, and Justin. She was struck by a moment of feeling an outsider. She didn’t belong here in the midst of this family time.

  Squaring her shoulders, she ignored her foolish hurt feelings, because of course they all needed to talk to each other. She set the basin on the bedside table. Besides, she was used to not belonging.

  Then she remembered the broth and a few other things the doctor had asked for. Grateful for an excuse, she left the room. Rosita was nearly running when she stepped into the hall, heading for the bedroom.

  From the hallway, Angie heard Rosita say “Mi niña!” in a voice that rang with pure joy.

  Angie went on into the kitchen. It was well-stocked, and she had a few very modest cooking skills. Thank the good Lord that included boiling a hunk of meat in water. It wasn’t hard to find the makings for a nice beef broth. She kept busy in the kitchen.

  Alone.

  Chance Boden’s eyes flickered open to the sight of his wife Veronica, his precious Ronnie, on her knees clinging to his hand, her face buried against their joined fingers. He flexed his fingers to caress her beautiful blond hair. At the movement, her head came up, and her snapping blue eyes went wide with surprise, then with joy.

  “Chance, you’re awake!” She launched herself to her feet and threw her arms around his neck.

  Only then did he realize he was lying in bed. He tried to hug her back and found he couldn’t move. Not an inch. His fingers were free, he could turn his head, but every bit of him was bound like a hog-tied calf at branding time.

  “What’s going on?” He was a man who lived in a hard land. He awoke every morning ready for trouble. He moved faster than he could think. And right now, not being able to move made him feel like danger was coming at him like a stampede.

  Or no . . . his head cleared more. Not a stampede, an avalanche.

  “How long?” An avalanche had come down on his head. The rest of his men had survived, he remembered that much. He remembered Heath Kincaid, his hired man, tending his leg with uncommon skill. Then Chance hesitated. Did he remember or had someone told him that? He was in Denver. Sent to a special doctor. His leg broken with the bone sticking out of the skin. They always amputated with injuries like that.

  Ronnie lifted her head from his chest, new tears, but hope like spring lightning in her expression.

  “You’ve had a fever for so l-long.” Her voice broke. Then her chin lifted and her jaw went firm. She swiped at her eyes with her sleeves. “But now—now—” She quickly stood and rushed to the door of a small room. Chance had no memory of coming here and yet he knew where he was.

  “Nurse, my husband is awake. Is the doctor here?”

  Chance thought of his leg and the terrible break. He tried to look down, but he was bound securely. His stomach twisted, for he knew if he could see, the blankets would be flat where there should be a leg.

  Ronnie, his precious Veronica. His wife for twenty-five years now. She spun away from the door and was at his side instantly.

  He should be grateful to have survived, yet he couldn’t stop the words. “My leg. Is it . . . ?”

  Kissing him with wild pleasure, she smiled. “Your leg is going to be fine.”

  “Fine? But they had to amputate—”

  Fingers, strong, callused yet still delicate, pressed against his lips. “The doctor was able to save your leg. It was so badly broken from the avalanche that it was a near thing, but the doctor—well, he had to keep you still.” Her eyes flashed with mock anger. She jabbed one finger at his nose. “You don’t have a still bone in your body, Chance Boden.”

  The doctor swung the door open. “He’s awake? The fever broke?”

  Chance had never seen this man before in his life.

  The man, white shirt-sleeves rolled up, hair disheveled and overlong as if he didn’t have a spare half hour ever to get it cut, went straight to Chance’s leg. “I’m going to take the leeches off now.”

  Chance jumped, except only his head and fingers moved. “Leeches? What is going on? Why am I tied down?”

  Ronnie blocked his view of the doctor hard at work. She brushed his hair back off his forehead.

  Chance was suddenly aware that he could smell himself. “How long have I been tied here?”

  Ronnie kissed him again, which distracted him. “You’ve been more asleep than awake for two weeks now. Your fever has come down and gone back up so many times I’ve lost count.”

  “Six times.” The doctor’s fingers were on Chance’s leg, and it was with a whoosh of relief that Chance felt the touch. He also felt pain like his leg was caught in a bear trap. It hurt enough that Chance noticed it as separate from his all-around misery.

  “Six times what?” Chance clamped is jaw shut to keep from hollering in pain.

  “Your fever came up and went down six times. Today is the sixth, but you never woke up before, and the wound in your leg was red and infected.” The doctor lifted his hand and held it high. He was catching light coming in through the window.

  Chance realized the man was holding a fat, black leech. “What kind of doctor are you?”

  “The finest
doctor alive.” Ronnie pressed her cheek to his.

  “Someone tell me what’s going on.”

  Bending back over Chance’s leg, the doctor said, “You were already feverish when your wife brought you here from the train. I stitched up the wound, working on the muscles, but I couldn’t close the skin because that would trap the silk threads inside you and you’d never heal. So I sewed up muscle, and we couldn’t put a plaster cast on your leg because the wound needed tending. It was absolutely essential we keep you from moving that leg, so we tied you down to the point you couldn’t so much as twitch.”

  The doctor straightened, looked over Ronnie’s shoulder, and smiled. “It’s my own method for broken bones of this sort. I must say it was a stroke of luck you got your leg broken when you did, because I’ve just begun using some new techniques.”

  “Luck?” Chance wondered if the doctor was completely sane.

  “Your fever was a bad one at first and the wound around the leg, wide open like that, showed some infection, which prompted me to get the leeches.”

  Chance felt prompted to reach for his gun.

  “Then after nearly a week, your fever broke and I was able to remove the stitches in the muscles. I had to abrade the skin of the open wound and stitch that, then up came your fever again. You slept some natural sleep after that, and we got broth and quite a bit of water down your throat. Kept you alive so I could try more things on your leg.”

  Chance was being experimented on. Well, since his leg was still there, it was probably right to have no objections.

  The doctor held up another leech and studied it with absolute delight.

  Shuddering, Chance said, “It’s been two weeks?”

  “Yes.” Ronnie took up the story. “The second week, another set of stitches had healed and your fever was more general. It’d break and then come up again.”

  “Six times in all. It’s all in my records.”

  “Did I introduce Dr. Radcliffe, Chance?”

  He shook his head. “Is there any possible way to loosen these straps?”

  The doctor set the leech aside as if he’d quit playing with a pet. “I’ll remove the stitches today. It’s time, but I want to watch the unstitched wound overnight. Tomorrow I’ll put a plaster cast on your leg. When that hardens, it’ll be possible for you to move. But until the wound healed you had to stay still, and now, until the plaster hardens, you can see that every move is sure to jostle unknit bones. The healing would need to begin all over again.”

  The doctor stood and patted Ronnie on the arm. She got out of his way as if that signal had come before, many times. Sounding far less dotty now, the doctor adjusted his round steel-rimmed glasses and said, “You are going to be well, Mr. Boden. I have saved your leg. It’s my brilliance, but the doctor who sent you here, the young man who tended your leg right after the accident, and the vigilance and devotion of your wife, who has not left your side for two weeks, all combined to delay your journey to meet St. Peter.”

  The doctor turned back to Chance’s leg. Ronnie smiled as tears of joy filled her eyes. And his wife was not a crying woman.

  If she was happy, he reckoned he was, too. But he wanted to be untied and he needed a bath. He wondered how long it would be before the doctor let him dunk himself in the river to clean up.

  3

  Cole was going to live.

  Justin was a while believing it, but finally he did.

  And then, as if he hadn’t had enough shocks for one day, he had to stand there and listen to Sadie announce she was marrying Heath Kincaid. The parson showed up as if Sadie had sent a telegram through the air asking him to come out.

  They were married at Cole’s bedside.

  Justin witnessed the vows. They hit him hard, as if he’d never heard them before, and he had a few times—but not for a little sister. “In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as we both shall live.” These were fierce promises to make. The vows were eternal. Heath and Sadie—smiling all the while—swore before God to keep them.

  His baby sister. He remembered Sadie vaguely as a baby. Justin was three when she was born. She’d been the most delicate, pretty little thing. Everything in him had known this was someone he was bound by God to protect.

  Then she’d gotten older and become a torment, and he’d been too big to fight back against the little imp. Cole had been known to say the same thing about Justin.

  With his throat tight, confused about whether to fight the wedding or celebrate it, he instead stood silently.

  Heath had saved Pa’s life in an avalanche. And he’d taken a bullet for Sadie, even if it was just a scratch. And he’d just caught the man who’d brought a lot of trouble to the Bodens’ door.

  Heath was a top hand, smart, loyal, honest, and fearless as a grizzly bear. A good Christian man. Of course, Justin was fine with his sister marrying the coyote.

  But Sadie was too young to get married, and good as he was, Heath wasn’t good enough for her. Justin had yet to meet anyone who was.

  He wished Ma and Pa were here. They’d be the ones asking questions and guarding Sadie. But they weren’t here, and much as Justin didn’t like it, he had no say over what an adult woman—sister or not—did when it came to choosing a husband.

  But he saw Sadie’s happiness, and Heath had brought her home safe when Justin abandoned her to save Cole. So Justin welcomed Heath to the family with some grace.

  As if he had any choice in the matter.

  Finally, the sheriff came and pestered Justin until he left his sister alone with her new husband, and his brother alone with Doc Garner and his pretty, clumsy little nurse, Angie.

  Justin knew Angie way better than he should. He’d met her the day she came to town, stepped off the train, and collapsed in his arms. He’d never forgotten how she’d felt and was overly aware of her ever since.

  He went to question their prisoner. Justin had locked him in the cellar, and it’d been quite a while. Maybe the varmint would be ready to talk.

  “Bring him up.” Sheriff Joe Dunn was giving orders.

  Justin had taken more orders today than he had in his whole life. Ma and Pa were exceptions to that, who’d always bossed him around. But as a rule he was a man to take charge and proud of that, because someone had to run this ranch, especially now with Pa being hurt.

  Justin was ready to have a long, brutal talk with this prisoner, who was in on the shooting of Cole and most likely all the recent troubles that had beset the Boden family.

  After he dragged the man up from the cellar, Justin saw Sadie and Heath eating in the kitchen. He badgered Heath to come and talk to their prisoner. Finally Justin had to face facts.

  Heath and Sadie were much too busy.

  Their prisoner had been untied when they put him in the cellar. There was only one way out of there—a sturdy trapdoor in the kitchen floor, and it was solidly locked. Justin probably should have asked the sheriff to put this outlaw in shackles, but a real cranky part of Justin hoped the low-down back-shooting vermin tried to escape. It would be Justin’s great pleasure to stop him.

  They walked with him to Pa’s office, and there was no escape attempt. Instead he sat down, crossed his arms, and looked between Justin and the sheriff. “What are you folks up to? I haven’t got a dollar to steal, and my horse is a broken-down old nag. If you’re thieves, you’re picking on the wrong man.”

  “You shot my brother today, nearly killed him. You can polish up your lies while you spend the rest of your life burning in Yuma.”

  The man’s eyes shifted as if looking for a way out, but then he steadied himself and instead of running he fought his expression into lines of indignation. Leaning forward in his seat, he said, “You attacked me, mister. I wasn’t doin’ nuthin’ wrong, just riding along—”

  “You’re wasting time,” Justin cut him off. The man had been given too much time to concoct his lies. “Who are you working for?”

  Justin wasn’t waiting for Sheriff Dunn to ask a question.
“Who hired you to kill Chance Boden?”

  The man jerked his head back like Justin had slapped him. “I ain’t got no idea in the world what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “No one has been on that trail for years. I’d never heard of it, and I live ten minutes from there, and you expect me to believe you were just riding along.”

  “I expect you to believe the truth!” The man sounded weak. Justin glanced at Joe, a man nearly as old as Pa. He’d been the lawman in Skull Gulch for as long as Justin could remember. He was relieved to see distrust in the lawman’s eyes.

  “What’s your name?” Joe finally asked a question. He was better at this than Justin was. Start at the beginning. It made sense.

  “Folks call me Arizona Watts. I’m just passin’ through. I never shot nobody.”

  “So you have no job, no acquaintances in the area.”

  “Nope, don’t know a soul. A man’s allowed to wander.”

  Heath’s voice came from behind them. “I was with Dantalion when he died.”

  Justin didn’t let the surprise voice distract him. He was looking right at Watts and saw the color drain from his face at the mention of Dantalion.

  “He told me he was trying to catch up with you, Watts. He was dying, and he wasn’t hiding a thing from me.”

  “No! I’ve never heard of the man.”

  Sheriff Joe said, “A dying man’s word carries a lot of weight with me.” He narrowed his eyes at the prisoner. “And I know Heath and the Bodens mighty well, and I don’t know you a lick. Are you going to tell me what you were up to and who you’re working with? Or should I just lock you up until the circuit judge comes by?”

  Justin knew Heath was lying, trying to trick Watts into a confession. Heath had given a quick rundown of all that had happened when he went back for Sadie. Dantalion took his secrets to the grave.

  “Dantalion had one thousand dollars in gold in his pockets and a letter saying he was getting paid that much for attacking the Bodens.” Heath watched the man like a cat watched a cornered mouse. “How much was he paying you?”

  “A thousand dollars? That lying cheat. He told me he’d give me twenty-five for every Boden I killed.” Watts’s mouth clamped shut so fast they all heard the snap.