Yellowthroat

by Penny Hayes

  Another ten minutes of easy riding brought them near the rock where Sam had stopped her this morning. "Slow down," Margarita ordered, and Julia pulled back slightly on the reins. They traveled another few paces before Margarita had her stop altogether. They waited in the road. Their mount snorted once, the jingling of his harness the only other sound to be heard. Margarita listened to her own breathing, none too steady. Sam was out there right now, probably with drawn gun, checking to make sure that it was she and the doctor — and no one else.

  Finally out of the darkness he spoke. "Over here."

  Even though she was expecting him, his voice made her jump. Both she and Julia dismounted at once.

  Margarita untied the medicine bag, then handed it to Julia while Sam lit the lantern, turning the wick only high enough to guide them and the horse behind the rock.

  "How is he?" Margarita asked, squatting down beside the wounded man. Again Bill lay on the ground, this time face down. He moaned his intense pain. Beneath him was a poncho and, covering him, a blanket.

  Sam lifted the lantern. "Can you fix 'im, Doc?" He glanced at Julia as the light danced off her eyes. "What the hell... This is a woman! What's she doin' here?"

  "There is no doctor, Sam," Margarita pronounced. Just her. So move out of the way so she can get to work."

  He cursed, then spat on the ground. "No damn female is doctorin' a man."

  "Then shoot Bill right now and be done with it," Margarita snapped. "Because if you don't let her tend him, he's going to die. There was no doctor in town."

  Sam hesitated, then stepped aside, still cursing. Julia immediately knelt beside the prostrate outlaw. "Where is he hit?" she asked.

  "His back. Shot in the back by some coward," Sam snarled.

  In the light of the lantern, Margarita could see Julia stiffen. But she did not comment. She asked for more light, and the lantern was placed by her side and turned up slightly. "Hold the light up," she said. Margarita picked up the lantern, bringing it close to Sam's back.

  Pulling back the blanket, then tearing the bloody shirt away, Julia exposed the wound. The bullet had entered the right shoulder muscle. She touched the area near the puncture. Bill let out a low scream.

  "If the bullet isn't taken out right away, he'll die of blood poisoning. Gag him. Margarita, open that bag and give me a bottle of alcohol."

  In seconds, the bottle was in Julia's hand. Sam tied his bandanna firmly around the injured man's mouth.

  "Hold him tight," she said to her two assistants. Margarita set the lantern down beside Julia.

  "If he dies..." Sam warned.

  "Shut up, Sam," Margarita barked. "If he dies, blame me. Leave her out of it."

  "Both of you shut up," Julia ordered. "Hold him. He's going to fight now." Without warning she poured alcohol over the bullet hole. Bill struggled wildly, half mad with pain. Pouring more alcohol over a pair of large tweezers, she began to dig into his back. He fought them all for another minute and then lay still.

  "You killed him," Sam bawled.

  "He's just fainted," Julia replied. "Margarita, hold that lantern up. I need to hurry."

  Julia dug deeper and deeper into the unconscious man. It seemed to Margarita that Julia's probing must penetrate Bill's chest before she stopped. Blood poured freely from the wound.

  "Sam," Julia instructed, "pour more alcohol onto his back." In another minute Julia pulled from Bill the bullet that had stopped halfway through his chest.

  "He'll have to be bound tightly and not be moved for several days," Julia pronounced, efficiently moving from one task to another. "Sit him up."

  Together Margarita and Sam held Bill in position while Julia wrapped clean strips of cloth round and round his back and chest.

  The now half-conscious outlaw began to moan as Julia finished bandaging him. It took all three to get Bill into a coat.

  "Come on, Margarita," Sam said. "Help me get him in my saddle. We'll take turns tyin’ him against us. I'll go first. What's the soonest we can reach the hideout?"

  "At least three days riding like hell," she replied.

  "I told you," Julia declared firmly. "He can't be moved. He needs a bed right now or he'll likely die."

  Sam walked over to Julia and picked up the lantern, holding it close to her face as Margarita steadied Bill in the saddle. "Oh, no he won't lady. Because you're gonna make sure he don't."

  As Sam tied Bill against his own body for the return ride to the meadow, the women gathered the medicine hag's contents together. Then Sam said sternly, "Margarita, blindfold that woman."

  She glanced Julia's way and then toward Sam. "Blindfold her? She can't ride hard like that."

  "Wal, she's gonna." He drew his gun and pointed it at Julia.

  "I won't do it!" Margarita declared hotly. She had done enough to Julia Blake already.

  The click of a hammer being drawn back broke the sound of the still night air.

  "It's all right, Margarita," Julia said, coming to her side. "Here, use this." She handed Margarita a strip of cloth and removed her hat.

  Margarita gently but firmly wrapped the cloth around her captive's eyes, tying it behind her head. "Are you all right?" she whispered. There was a barely discernible nod from Julia. Margarita led her to her horse, assisted her in mounting, guiding her foot into the stirrup and her hand onto the pommel. Once she was in the saddle, Margarita took the reins of Julia's horse and walked over to Bill's mount.

  "Tie her hands, too," Sam ordered.

  "Like hell I—"

  "Do it!"

  Margarita obeyed. Sam was nervous as a cat. She could not challenge him now regardless of how she felt about the way Julia was being treated. She had no one to blame but herself.

  With no further time for thought, she secured the medicine bag to the back of the horse, mounted up, and, leading Julia's horse by the reins, began to follow Sam.

  They rode steadily and rapidly through the night, pausing twice only to let their horses drink from a small stream. The following dawn, they traveled along the arroyos and creeks and through canyons that Margarita hadn't even known existed in this area.

  Around noon, Sam called a halt beside a flowing stream dense with brush and near the entrance of a craggy canyon. "I gotta take a leak."

  Margarita turned to see if Julia had heard his crude words. If she had, she gave no indication. Since last night she had not made a sound...had not complained. Margarita knew that old Henry was on her mind. Damn good thing, too. It kept her from doing something stupid. Margarita wouldn't have hurt Henry, but Sam might hurt Julia if she misbehaved.

  Together Sam and Margarita untied Bill from Sam's waist and lowered him to the ground in the shade of a piñon tree. He was out cold. After removing his coat, they saw that his bandage was soaked through with blood.

  "Turn her loose and let her work on him," Sam said, glancing in Julia's direction. "If she tries to escape, hobble her."

  Free of the rope, Julia rubbed life back into her wrists before removing her blindfold. She dismounted and looked around at her surroundings. She seemed to be examining them so intently that Margarita wondered if she was trying to recognize landmarks.

  Margarita untied the medicine bag and placed it at the unconscious man's side. Julia continued to rub her wrists as she knelt beside him. She spoke her first words since last night: "He's lost an awful lot of blood. I don't know if he'll make it."

  "He'll make it." Sam stood right behind them.

  She did not comment again as she unwound the bloody bandage, poured more alcohol on the wound, and then rewrapped it.

  Sam sat down beneath the tree. "Bind her, Margarita."

  "Why don't you just shoot us, Sam. We have things we have to do and we can't have our hands tied to do it."

  "Two minutes an' I'll be lookin' for her." He drew his gun and waved it threateningly back and forth before both their faces.

  Margarita took Julia by the arm and led her to a pri
vate area, leaving her alone while she went to relieve herself. But not trusting that Sam wouldn't come after them, both women were back within the short length of time he had allowed them. He was still jumpy and nervous and Margarita saw no point in worsening the situation.

  They rested for a half hour. Sam wandered away, leaving Margarita to watch Julia, but still he remained within sight of them both.

  The women sat on the ground, knees propped up, resting against a jutting rock along the stream. After hours of silence except for the brief reference to Bill, Julia spoke directly to Margarita. "There's your partner." The words sounded bitter.

  Margarita looked in the direction of thick shrubbery where Julia had pointed.

  "See that little bird flitting around?" Julia continued watching the shrubbery.

  Margarita heard a whichity-whichity-whichity-which sound coming from a bushy area fifteen feet away. "I don't see anything."

  "Wait."

  Another minute passed before the bird landed on a slim twig long enough for her to see what Julia had been watching all along. "Oh, look. He looks like a little..."

  "...bandit," Julia finished for her. "He's called a yellowthroat. The place is crawling with desperadoes."

  Margarita stared with fascination at the small bird. Olive green above, bright yellow below, fading into dull white on his belly, with a very distinct black mask predominant across his eyes, he did indeed look very much like a little bandit.

  Margarita said, "I never paid much attention to birds. I don't think I've ever noticed this one before."

  They watched the tiny creature fly into and around the brush until Sam announced that it was time to go. Refusing to give in to the stiffness of too many hours in the saddle, Margarita rose soundlessly. Julia, too, kept her silence, earning unspoken praise from Margarita as she bound her and restored the blindfold.

  This time Bill was tied to Margarita's chest. Again Sam led the way.

  They stopped twice more in the next day and a half, Margarita not recognizing where they were. After all she and the men had been through together, they still hadn't let her in on all the ways possible to and from the meadow. She was still a woman — and not to be trusted completely.

  They reached the meadow within the three days Margarita had predicted, with their horses' tongues nearly hanging out before they finally stopped in front of the men's cabin. Julia had been kept blindfolded and tied the entire trip except when she had tended Bill or eaten. Remarkably, Bill still lived, slipping continuously in and out of consciousness.

  Sam and Margarita clumsily carried him inside and laid him on a cot. Released to work on him, Julia looked down on him and hopelessly shook her head.

  Julia's wrists were worn raw from having been bound for so many days and nights by the abrasive rope. But never once had she complained. Not used to riding a horse, she was sore to the point of limping badly, but neither did she complain when she walked. On the insides of her thighs and calves, spots of blood showed through her pant legs where the leather of the saddle had rubbed her skin raw.

  Both Margarita and Sam watched closely as Julia tended Bill, her brows knitting fiercely as she grimaced in her own personal discomfort.

  When she finished, Sam said, "Julia'll stay in here."

  Surprising both Sam and Margarita, the saddle-weary woman whirled on Sam. Her voice was severe. "I will not stay in this filthy shack. I will come several times, day and night, to look at your wounded friend. But he does not need someone to stand over him watching his chest rise and fall. You can do that if you want to. I need to rest. My work with this man is done for now. Margarita, where do you stay?"

  Margarita felt her heart clog her chest, heavy thumps crashing against her rib cage as she watched Julia stand up to Sam. No man in his right mind talked to him that way. Would he take it from a woman, someone he didn't trust to begin with?

  His mouth drew into a vicious snarl as his hand curled clawlike near the butt of his pistol. He stood frozen and poised, looking first at Julia, who glared right back at him, and then at Margarita, who prayed he would not do something insane.

  "For Bill's sake, Sam, for mine, keep your head." Margarita stepped between him and Julia.

  Roughly, he brushed her aside, his eyes cold as ice. After what seemed an eternity, Margarita saw his fingers relax slightly, then his hand drop to his side. She breathed an internal sigh of relief.

  "Tie her up an' get her outta here," he growled savagely. "Then let me sleep. I'm going nuts with you bitches."

  "Look at her wrists, Sam," Margarita bravely argued. "They're becoming infected. She's not going to be able to help Bill at all if she's not allowed to take care of herself

  first."

  "Tie 'er!" he screamed, and rubbed a dirty hand across his face. "Then get out!"

  Julia was hastily bound. Together the women left the cabin with the sound of Sam uncorking a bottle and hurling curses after them.

  "Maybe he'll drink himself into a stupor," Julia suggested hopefully as they hastened away.

  "Not a chance," Margarita replied. "He can drink three of those bottles dry and not even stumble."

  Arriving at the cabin, Margarita released Julia to tend to her wounds, then left long enough to fetch a bucket of water. She returned to find that Julia had removed her hot, sticky clothing and now lay nude on the cot. She was sweating heavily and already sleeping soundly. Margarita quietly set the bucket on the floor and walked over to her to look down on the worn woman.

  Julia was so beautiful she nearly took Margarita's breath away. Creamy breasts jutted forward, resting ever so slightly to the side, looking as pliant as fresh bread dough. Her dark nipples were soft and relaxed. It was an effort for Margarita not to reach down and caress that softness. The triangle patch between Julia's thighs was as blond as the hair on her head, softly curling downward toward slim, strong thighs, slightly spread with one knee a little bent.

  Margarita absorbed the sleeping Julia with thirsty eyes. She wanted to ... to…She could not identify her longing. There was something she yearned to do, and the way she felt and what she was thinking as she continued to stare at Julia's body was alien to her.

  She forced her eyes away and, instead of waking Julia to dress her wounds, sat at the table and rested her head on her arms.

  She woke an hour later, her neck cramped and her arms stiff from cradling her head. She sat up and stretched.

  Julia was still asleep. Deciding not to disturb her, Margarita placed a stool beside the cot and quietly opened the medicine bag. She would tend Julia's wounds herself, letting her sleep until it was time to go.

  She found the salve and smeared a light coating of the soothing jelly, first to Julia's wrists, then to the insides of her calves where the outer layer of skin had been completely worn away. Even as Margarita applied the salve, Julia did not stir, not even aware of her pain. Margarita scooped up another fingerful and began to rub it onto the wounds of her thighs. Julia's skin was as Margarita had thought it would be — soft, tantalizing. She finished one leg to begin the other. She didn't have to take this long to tend Julia. But she made herself believe that she did.

  Julia stirred, opening her eyes slowly, to find Margarita caressing her thigh. "What are you doing?"

  Margarita jumped guiltily. "Dressing your wounds," she pronounced too loudly. Red-cheeked, she pulled her hand away. "You can finish now. There still needs to be bandages added."

  "You do it," Julia said. She smiled reassuringly and reached to place a hand on Margarita's knee. She closed her eyes and in seconds was asleep again.

  Margarita sat motionless, hardly having heard Julia's words, staring at the slender hand still resting on her knee. She would never allow another woman to touch her this way. Her guilt made her realize what her own intention had been. She had been touching the woman sexually. Sexually! She had realized it the moment Julia had asked what she was doing. Margarita could feel her face searing with embarrassment. She had b
een after Julia the way men go after women.

  No, damn it, she had not! Her touch had been soft, gentle, not pinching and grabbing the way she had been grabbed dozens of times by men. She had been very kind with Julia. Men hurried. She hadn't hurried!

  What are you saying, she asked silently. Why are you making these ridiculous comparisons? Her thighs ached. Her belly ached. She wanted to run...run from Julia, from Sam, from the meadow... from herself.

  Rapidly and with trembling fingers she finished nursing Julia's wounds, then carefully removed the exhausted woman's hand from her thigh. Knowing that to linger was to become entangled in something she knew nothing about, she snapped the medicine bag closed, and hurried outside.

  A half hour later she awakened Julia who immediately rose and dressed. Even though Julia's wrists were still swollen, Margarita loosely retied her hands to pacify Sam.

  "How about your legs, Julia?" Margarita asked. "How do they feel? I know you hurt."

  "I'm certainly not as tough as I once thought I was," Julia admitted, "but I'll be fine."

  Margarita released Julia to re-dress Bill's wounds. The area around the bullet hole was white with pus and had begun to smell. "We'll have to take turns watching him tonight," Julia said. "By then he'll be babbling nonsense. He's almost there now. Why he's still alive, I don't know."

  Margarita felt a tremor of fear. Julia couldn't be allowed to listen to an outlaw's ravings; there was no telling what might be revealed. Julia already knew too much, and it was evident that Sam thought the same thing.

  "Sam and I will spell each other, Julia." Margarita spoke hastily. "You sleep tonight. Tell us what to do."

  Slumped forward on a stool, his elbows resting on the table, Sam nodded confirmation. Smoke from a cigarette held between his tobacco stained fingers curled toward the ceiling. "Tie Julia to your bed tonight, Margarita," he commanded.

  Margarita saw Julia pause ever so briefly as she placed clean packing against Bill's back. Margarita cast unbelieving eyes toward Sam. "You're crazier than a damn coyote. You had her tied and blindfolded for three days. You're going to kill her, the way you're treating her. I'm warning you, Sam, if she doesn't show up back in Colter eventually, there will be a posse after us because they'll search until they find her. And you can bet your ass they'll find us, too. Don't ruin things now." She stood before him, fists clenched, fighting the desire to attack him and beat him senseless.