by Anna Zogg
He had foregone his share and noticed Ellie doing the same. Taking a sip of water, but consuming none of the food, they’d stashed the remainder for later. Rhett debated scouting for a creek, but discarded the idea of leaving the passengers, especially the injured Mrs. Rushton.
The stout woman lay on her back. Ellie had made Mrs. Rushton comfortable by pillowing her head with a blanket and propping her feet on a bag. Nestling against his mother, the boy rested his head on her abdomen, eyes closed. Ellie covered them both with a thin blanket, then watched them for a few minutes.
Apparently satisfied, she turned to rummage in a small bag. After removing some strips of cloth, she tucked them into her pocket. Then she walked with purpose toward Rhett. “Let me look at your arm.”
He drew back, not because he didn’t agree that it needed attention, but because with all the work, he had forgotten about it.
Brow lowering, her head tilted to one side as her delicate lips pursed.
He stifled the chuckle that rose in his throat. Though he dwarfed her by almost a head, the steely determination on her face warned him that she would force him to yield.
Or at least try.
Already he had noted how Nicholas did not hesitate to obey her commands. From what he’d overheard earlier, the boy actually minded her better than he did his own mother.
But how would Ellie react when she saw the wound? He extended his arm.
Her shoulders immediately relaxed. With deft fingers, she untied the knotted kerchief. He ignored the ache as her fingers tightened around his forearm while she examined his wound.
“It’s bleeding. Why is it still bleeding?” She studied the gash, muttering to herself. Her brown eyes met his, a spark of gold flashing in the late afternoon sun. After running her fingers beside the length of the wound, she hemmed to herself. “I need to check inside your wound. But it’s going to hurt.”
He shrugged. It already did. In the past, he had suffered much greater injuries and deprivation. By comparison, this was nothing.
“First I need to wash.” Ellie turned. “I need more water. Where can I find it?”
He shook his head. “That canteen is all we have.”
“But I need to clean my hands.” She held up blackened palms. “They’re filthy.”
“We cannot spare any water.”
She made a sound of irritation. “I have to use something. I can’t...” She sighed, brow furrowed in thought. “Very well. I’ll do without my portion.”
“You’d go thirsty? For this?”
“Yes.” She raised her chin. “My father believed that hands must be clean. I will not risk injuring you further.”
Rhett studied her until a delicate pink colored her cheeks. With her creamy complexion, the rose only added to her exquisite beauty.
How could one so fair and delicate be so strong? He had never before met anyone like her. She was nothing like the rough-and-tumble women of the frontier. But in some ways, she seemed tougher.
“Very well,” he finally answered. “But only if you allow me to volunteer my ration of water. Instead of yours.”
“No, I...” A storm gathered on her brow.
Shaking his head, he waited for her to give in while she—no doubt—did the same. Minutes ticked by as she glared at him.
“Apparently, I’ll have to bleed to death before you’ll agree.” Rhett held out his arm, red drops falling to the ground. “Well?”
“Oh, very well.” She spoke with a huff.
Hiding his smile of triumph, he strode off to retrieve the one canteen.
When he returned, Ellie rolled up her sleeves and then held out her hands. “Pour some over my skin. Excellent.”
When she appeared ready, he again extended his arm.
“Here goes.” Without hesitation, she jabbed one slim finger into the gash.
Rhett grunted as she searched.
In moments, she murmured, “Ha.” With bloodied fingertips, she held up a wedge of wood. “Here’s the problem. Now your arm can begin to heal.” She took another second to double-check. “Wait.” Again, she felt along the gash.
He took a second to find his voice, but merely to tease. “You sure you’re not getting even with me? For arguing with you?”
Pressing her lips together, she ducked her head. But she couldn’t hide her grin. After retrieving strips of cloth from her pocket, she cleaned her fingers on one and wrapped his arm with another.
He studied the bandage, expertly tied as he flexed his arm. Not too tight or loose. Perhaps she was as well versed in medicine as she claimed. “Perfect. Thank you.”
The smile with which she graced him set his heart to pattering in a new, but not uncomfortable way.
Ellie planted one fist at her hip. “Now I need to see that horse.”
He knew which she meant—the one tied behind the stagecoach.
After shooting the one with a broken leg, Pete had taken the only uninjured animal. Of the remaining two horses, only one would likely survive. The fourth, a chestnut, had a massive gash across his back leg.
Ellie drew closer. “I know what you’re thinking—that I might know something about people’s injuries, but not a horse’s. Which is true. But I have to at least try. Give me a chance.”
Her eyes gleamed in the setting sun. If they were to do something, it had to be now while they still had light.
Rhett wanted to argue that the gelding was frantic with pain. That even he hesitated to approach the animal. In his heart, he knew that Ellie would be unable to get close enough to examine the horse, much less care for it.
But her eyes compelled him. In his heart, he knew he would not dare disappoint this determined young woman. Although he would hate to see her fail, he would hate himself more if he didn’t help her try.
“Come with me.” Without another word, he strode toward the back of the stagecoach.
Chapter Three
The injured chestnut looked piteous. His head, hanging low, gave him the appearance of abject despair. Despite her determination to handle anything she might encounter, Ellie’s throat tightened.
As they drew closer, the horse raised its head and whickered a warning. His eyes were so wide, the whites glittered. He held up his injured leg while foam dripped from a slack mouth. Ellie sucked in a quick breath.
He’s dying.
She didn’t have to see the blood-soaked soil to know he wouldn’t last the night. Eyes burning, she turned to Rhett. “I have some astringent powder that will deaden the pain. Then I need to stitch him up.”
His eyebrows rose. “You won’t be able to get near his back leg.”
“I have to try. I have to at least...” She bit her lip as her eyes stung anew, hating the fact that she could never control her tears when she beheld suffering. Human or animal—it didn’t matter.
Maybe I am weak and too emotional, like my father always said.
She studied Rhett’s expression, expecting contempt like she had seen many times on her father’s face. But she saw only compassion.
Rhett’s head tilted. “Get your supplies. I will try to control the gelding.”
Nodding, she rushed to retrieve her medical bag.
Nicholas continued to doze beside his mother. Anxiety again arose as Ellie beheld the unconscious woman.
I wish I could do something more for Mrs. Rushton.
But what? She wasn’t feverish. Although bruised, she had no broken bones. Ellie made certain the woman could breathe easily and had seen to it that she remained warm and dry. Nothing else could be done but wait.
Although Ellie’s medical bag was a jumbled mess of broken glass and spoiled contents, she located the powder tin, a needle and long length of thread.
When she returned to the backside of the stagecoach, Rhett had positioned the horse beside it. Two ropes bound the animal to the v
ehicle while Rhett held a third. As she drew nearer, she heard him speaking to the gelding in a low tone.
Gulping, she stopped. Would the horse allow her help?
“Approach him slowly.” Without looking in her direction, Rhett used the same hushed tone.
Ellie obeyed, scarcely breathing as she eyed the gelding. One kick from his powerful leg could break bones. Or kill.
With care, she pried the lid off the powder tin. Heart pounding in her ears, she moved cautiously closer. She froze when the horse’s head jerked up. Only Rhett’s quiet words and gentle hand on the gelding’s muzzle soothed him.
When she got near enough, she scattered powder into the large, gaping wound. Its deadening power should work fast, but she worried about the dosage. How much needed to be applied to keep the horse from feeling the bite of the needle? She couldn’t be sure—could only hope she used enough. After securing the lid, she pocketed the tin and then grasped the needle and thread.
Rhett’s gaze flickered to her. He nodded ever so slightly as he continued to speak to the horse. Mouth dry, Ellie stroked the gelding’s quivering flesh. She positioned herself to make use of the last of the sunlight before it slipped behind distant hills.
Perspiration broke out on her forehead as she stabbed the needle through the skin. The horse jerked, tremors passing through his body. Rhett’s voice seemed to grow more riveting. Breath coming in short gasps, Ellie worked as quickly as possible, mindful to keep her movements small. Sweat ran down the bridge of her nose and perched at the tip before falling. Any remaining moisture in her mouth evaporated.
Hurry. Shadows lengthened. When the thread ran out she would have to be done. With difficulty, she tied off the end and left it dangling.
“There.” She backed away, tucking the needle into her collar for safekeeping. When she glanced at Rhett, he rewarded her with a smile that made her heart leap.
With his hand still on the horse’s muzzle, he nodded. “You’ve done well.”
She was slow to respond. “Thank you.”
They made a good team. Was he thinking the same? The longer he scrutinized her, the warmer her cheeks grew.
With a tentative hand, she stroked the gelding’s rump. “Poor boy. He deserves only kindness.”
The chestnut seemed to lean into her as she ran her palms along his ribs. Slowly, she worked her way toward his head. The longer she caressed him, the more relaxed he seemed to grow.
Was it her imagination or had he lost his dejected look?
Ellie studied Rhett. “What will happen to him? Once we reach Casper?”
His hand smoothed the horse’s neck. “Doubtful the stagecoach company’ll keep him.”
“Would they shoot him?” Sorrow tightened her throat.
“I don’t know.”
“Sell him?”
Brows furrowing, Rhett shook his head. “Who would buy a wounded animal?”
Ellie stroked the horse’s soft neck. “He’s such a sweet-tempered boy. Can’t you see? It would be a shame to destroy him.”
Rhett nodded.
“Promise me,” she said, holding his gaze with her own, “when you hear what they decide, you will let me know?”
He looked away, then took a deep breath. “I promise.”
When she stroked the horse’s soft cheek, he nickered. “There’s a good boy.” She scratched the spot between his ears.
While she’d lived in Chicago, her dealings with horses had been minimal. Animals were for transportation or sport. Out west, things would be different. Many, many things in her life would be. For the better, she hoped—and resolved.
“I’m sorry, Rhett.” She bit her lip as her fingers continued to stroke the gelding. “I just realized I could’ve used the powder on your arm.”
He took so long answering that she looked up.
“Perhaps I should’ve wailed more.” A grin tugged at his lips. “Like Nicholas.”
She giggled. “Or foamed at the mouth.”
“I’ll remember that next time.” His smile broadened before he again grew serious. “God has gifted you with a healing touch.”
She took a quick breath. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s obvious. Look at this horse.”
The gelding still held up his back leg protectively, but with his eyes half shut, he appeared sleepy. Even content.
“No.” She backed away. “I’m not gifted. I merely have knowledge. Skills I’m not afraid to use.”
If her father had permitted her to attend medical school, she would have learned more. To this day, she didn’t understand his anger when she suggested it.
Rhett’s head tilted. “Just because a person is educated or trained doesn’t mean they are gifted. You are.”
Squirming at that idea, she continued to shake her head. God didn’t visit her—or anyone—with special talents. Everything she had learned about medicine, she had gleaned from her father. And with him, she was always lacking.
Not good enough, Elinor.
His rebukes still rang in her head. She failed to clean his medical instruments correctly. She needed to curb her curiosity and not ask his patients so many questions. She did not memorize enough information from the literature he recommended. No matter how she tried to please him, Father never seemed satisfied. And after Mama had died, he had grown even more tyrannical.
For seven years, Ellie watched him lose patients and most of his staff. They closed off parts of the house and let many servants go. His long, slow slide downhill ended when he stepped in front of a runaway wagon. But at least he was now at peace.
Ellie hoped.
* * *
The dark night wrapped around the four of them in the small campsite. Rhett squatted before a roaring fire, gaze flickering to their small group and beyond—assessing and reassessing their situation. Across from him lay the unconscious Mrs. Rushton. Ellie periodically checked on the woman who had awakened briefly.
The look of relief on Ellie’s face assured him that perhaps the woman would recover.
Nicholas lay beside his mother, one thin arm draped over her belly. Rhett guessed him to be six or seven years old.
About my age when Pa was hanged.
Rhett would never forget his own mother waking him at night and her frantic whisper to pack what he could. They needed to flee from the infamous Walker Gang. Pa had been the ringleader. With him dead, Ma had no protection from his two brothers who were as wicked—or worse—than Pa. She often said she would do anything, even die, to protect Rhett from being forced to follow his footsteps. That decision resulted in years of hiding and hardship.
But ultimately my salvation.
After years of hiding, they had found their way to the home of a retired preacher. Or rather God had directed them there, as Rhett now believed. Ma had become the man’s housekeeper.
Ellie’s movements as she sat across from him drew his attention. She unbound her hair and raked her fingers through the long blonde strands as she stared into the night. The light of the fire danced across the liquid-gold tresses, enthralling him.
Many a time, he recalled Ma doing that. At the end of the day, she would stand by the stove, brushing her hair. Perhaps daring to hope their years of running were over?
At the snarl of a coyote, Rhett rose. Ellie too heard it. Her fingers paused, head turning toward the sound. He didn’t need to tell her what she already knew—scavengers fought over the horse Pete had shot. Several times, Rhett caught the glint of eyes in the deep darkness.
Other predators prowled nearby, drawn to the scent of blood and the hopes of an easy meal. Because of that, he kept the shotgun close, but found himself wishing for a rifle. When he was again certain they were safe, he sank to his haunches.
In the distance, a wolf howled, its call long and mournful. Ellie sucked in a sharp breath, her large eyes fastening on
Rhett. In the flickering firelight, her fingers visibly trembled.
“He calls for his mate.” Rhett spoke softly to dampen her fears. “You needn’t be afraid.”
“Isn’t that a wolf?” She gulped.
“Yes, but far away. He won’t bother us.”
“But I’ve heard stories...”
“Lies abound where ignorance dwells.” He waited, but his words didn’t appear to soothe her agitation. “You’ve nothing to fear, Ellie.” He pointed to the dancing flames. “The fire’ll keep away creatures. And the horses will alert us of any danger.” Tied nearby, the two geldings appeared to doze. Even so, their ears flicked back and forth, alert despite their sleepy appearance. He patted the shotgun, hoping he wouldn’t need to use it for animals or outlaws.
Her mouth spasmed. “Are you sure?” The tautness in her neck confirmed her fear.
His chest tightened at the urge to gather her in his arms, like she had Nicholas. But that kind of comfort would be inappropriate. Rhett shoved away the impulse.
“I am sure.” He directed his thoughts to the countless nights he and Ma had slept under the stars with little more than a single knife and a prayer. God had protected them. However, Rhett sensed this young woman did not have the assurances he had. How had she grown up in a city full of churches and not learned of the Lord’s grace and love?
Although Ellie resumed raking her fingers through her hair, her shoulders lost none of their tension. He concluded that this might very well be the first night she spent outdoors. Every sound and movement in the dark must frighten her.
He threw another stick into the fire. “You’ve nothing to fear, Ellie. I’ll watch over you.” When her eyes widened, he added, “And the others as well, of course.”
Her acute gaze pierced his soul. “You mean, you’d stay awake all night? For me?”
He took his time answering. “Yes.”
She too spoke slowly. “I’ve learned that true loyalty cannot be bought. I thank you.”
With a boldness he had never experienced before, he continued to meet her stare. He sensed she needed reassurance. Had she been wounded by those who proved untrustworthy? Perhaps.