“One of these days, you'll have to enlighten us,” Mark said.
“Not unless you want dishwater for supper,” I said. “The stove is out. I'll need three chickens and dress them. Don't forget carrots and onions from the garden, Bart, and it's past milking time. Hop to it, boys, or you won't have supper until nearly midnight.
Although they gave me strange looks, they did as I bid them. Mark had the stove roaring with a fire so hot it turned cherry-red. By the time Bart returned with the chickens and vegetables, I had started custard with the breakfast milk and eggs.
The rest showed back up as I tried my best to conjure up a meal like Ma would have done. My hands flew from pot to pan as I cooked up a hearty chicken soup, and then made cornbread. The food smelled good. After we sat and began eating, it tasted even better than the delectable aroma.
Ma came into the kitchen, after spending a long time in the wash shed. She sat at the table and leaned her head against her hands.
“Lord, I don't know what more to do.”
Her frightening words stopped us in the midst of eating. Spoons hung over bowls, and mouths dropped to the table.
“You can make them well, can't you?” I asked.
“Only time will tell.”
I had heard those words once before. Someone else had said them, and I had thrashed around in a fever. An echo from my past ran through my head.
“I just don't know, Louisa,” a man had said. “Only time will tell if she survives. I've done everything I can for Abigail.”
Chapter Twelve
A familiar and dreaded voice pulled me out of the memory before I could figure it out. Ma and my brothers stared at the door in horror, but I was still lost in the words from a person who sounded familiar.
“Got a cup of brew for a lonely old man?”
Trapper Andy had the most horrible habit of appearing just when a person had too many troubles already. He was sure to have a long tale of woe and mistreatment at the hands of one of the storekeepers he dealt with.
Then it dawned on me. His was the familiar voice in that memory!
“Let him in,” Ma said.
She still had her face buried in her hands, and her voice trembled with resignation. Bart opened the door and stood back. He wrinkled his nose as the trapper ambled inside. The rest of us covered our noses at the smell on the man.
“Evening, Louisa, I saw Michael headed in this direction, but he looked poorly,” Trapper Andy said. “Is everything all right?”
He lowered himself into Pa's chair and snatched one of the extra cups. I had set it out without thinking. Sick folks in the house was new to me. Or was it? All those strange dreams, and Adam's evasive answers set me to thinking, but I quit fast when Trapper Andy poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Not today, Andy,” Ma said.
“I tell you,” he said. “Those thieves up in Carson City will take a man's last hide and claim it's no good. If I didn't need money for victuals, I'd head for California, and try my hand at gold mining.” He glanced around the table. “That's a right nice shiner you have, Abigail. Did you get it running into one of your brothers?”
Ducking my head, I pressed the skin around my eye. Sure enough, painful swelling greeted my questing fingers. With all the other aches and pains, I had never felt that one.
“No, sir.”
I kept my voice low as my brothers snickered. Mark reached over to pull a braid, and I jerked away.
“Heard a rumor at that saloon Horace Johnson took Michael into,” Trapper Andy said. “Now, don't you worry, Louisa. Your beloved didn't partake of any spirits, but there was a moment or two when he wasn't looking at his cup. A few of the men claimed Horace sprinkled something in the coffee.”
He sipped his coffee. Clasping her throat with one hand, Ma gasped.
“Are you saying Horace deliberately made Michael ill?” she asked.
“Just what I heard,” he said. “Boys, ain't you supposed to be about your chores?”
Everyone at the table gaped openmouthed at him, but he paid them no mind. Who did he think he was? What right did he have to order us around?
“We're handling our responsibilities.” Adam snorted. “What about you?”
“That's enough,” Ma said.
I rose, to clear the table and clean up, but a sharp pain in my back stopped me halfway.
“Did you get throwed?” Trapper Andy asked.
“Yes, sir.” I glared at my brothers.
They held their hands over their mouths, but that didn't stop their chorus of snickers. Even Adam, who had been so terrified when I flew through the air, had a merry expression on his face. Ma slapped the table.
“I'm glad the lot of you find it so funny,” she shouted.
The scornful laughter stopped, but the smiles remained.
“Sorry,” Mark said, “but Abigail hasn't ever tumbled off a horse. Pa's always said it's like she's part of the animal. Now, if we're talking about the monsters, well, they always fall off.”
“Did something strange happen afore that bronc threw you, Abigail?” Trapper Andy asked.
Ma stormed away from us and stirred the broth. The spoon clattered against the sides of the pot. Her behavior was most unusual, as was that of my brothers. They stared at their food and never said a word. Another mysterious moment when no one would tell me what was going on.
“We'll deal with it,” she said. “It's not your concern.”
He poured another cup of coffee and swiped a square piece of cornbread. He examined it for a long time before nibbling a corner.
“Right good. Did you make this, Abigail?”
I nodded.
“Gonna make as good a cook as your ma one day. Fess up. Did someone chuck something at you afore that mustang tossed you?”
“We're fine,” Ma snapped. “You gave it up, remember?”
I stared at them, until Adam pulled me away from the table.
“Abigail can help with the chickens,” he said. “If she's not feeling too poorly.”
“I'll check out her bruises after I look in on Michael and the boys,” Trapper Andy said. “Louisa, you tolerated a lot from me after Matilda and Grace died. It's time for me to return to my calling.”
“But I don't know what made them sick.” She wiped her eyes with her apron. “What good can you do?”
“I figure you've already made a good start, but I'll check them just the same,” he said. “Lord knows, you've done well in spite of what life's thrown at you. This time, let me decide if I've really given it up.” He set down the cornbread and his cup. “Mark, there's a black bag I'll need on old Betsy.”
Oh no! He brought his smelly mule with him. Where will we keep it?
Trapper Andy pushed away from the table. He and Ma went to the bunkhouse. His croaky voice entertained me as I cleared up the mess.
“The rest of you better take care of the chores,” Adam said. “Did you get a chance to inspect the corral?”
“I didn't find anything.” Bart jerked his head at the bunkhouse. “Is this just his way of sticking his nose into our business? It's been close to ten years since he did any doctoring.”
Adam glanced at me. “I don't know how much Ma wants short stuff to know.”
I was about tired of being treated like a porcelain doll. Before I could stop myself, I kicked his shin.
“Ow!” He jumped back. “Why'd you kick me?”
I grinned. “Quit trying to protect me. If I can survive getting thrown, I can hear about Trapper Andy.”
Mark entered the house with a black bag that looked like a thick leather envelope with a tarnished golden clasp. “Where'd he go?”
“Bunkhouse,” Bart said. “I'm out of here.”
Trapper Andy and Ma entered the kitchen.
“Keep on with the weak broth,” he said. “Looks like that alkaline poisoning I heard about a few years ago. You're lucky. They might have died if the boys hadn't ridden out after them.”
“You just couldn't quit fo
rever, could you?” Ma said. “Well, come on, Doc. You won't stop fussing until you check all the children.”
Doc? Was Trapper Andy really a doctor? I nearly tripped as I moved around my brothers. They stood frozen in place, as if they would never move again.
“Never really knew myself, Louisa. Thanks for being such a good sister.”
Sister? Sister! Trapper Andy was Ma's brother? Never, ever, had I considered him anything other than a pesky man who couldn't take care of himself.
“So, I guess we have to call you Uncle Andy from now on,” I said. My voice sounded strange, as if I hated the idea. And I did hate the thought of calling him Uncle Andy. But a little acceptance came through my immediate distrust.
* * * *
His pained expression vanished, as did the rest of the room. I found myself looking at my family, but they were much younger.
Grace, David, and I sat under a tree lightning had hit. As the scene played out in front of my eyes, I realized I had unlocked a memory that scared me a lot.
The adults sitting on the porch stood. Pa, Trapper Andy, and the pretty lady holding his arm went into the house right off. Ma leaned over the railing.
“You children stay right where you are,” she called. “I don't want you going anywhere near the corral.”
“Yes, ma'am.” I waved at her.
She had promised to make me a pretty dress just like Grace's if I behaved. Even though I loved touching the horses, I wouldn't do anything to upset Ma. When she decided to create a dress, she made wonderful ones even though it took her a long time.
She gave me a soft smile. “We'll start on your dress tomorrow, Abigail. I wish I could today, but we don't work on Sunday.”
Adam, Bart, Charles, and Mark ran into the barn with Peter and Paul on their heels. Their whoops and hollers made David, Grace, and me curious. We started to walk toward where they were playing.
“Bet we can pet a couple of horses and get out of the corral afore anyone catches us,” David said.
He was Mark's twin. No one suspected David had an evil streak, one where he challenged others to do stuff Ma and Pa had forbidden. Then David would stand back and look innocent, leaving his victim to face our parents’ wrath. I wouldn't let him get me into trouble today, not if it meant losing that pretty new dress.
“No.” I shook my head. “You heard Ma.”
“What she doesn't see won't hurt her,” he said.
He and Grace slid under the corral fence. I started after them, determined to stand outside the fence and holler until they came out. Then I laid eyes on the most horrible sight in the world creeping under the rails on the other side of the corral—a coyote.
Drool dribbled from its wide-open jaws. The animal lurched from side to side. It focused on Grace and David. My heart thudded hard against my chest as I looked around for an adult.
Aunt Mattie came out onto the porch and frowned when she saw where I was.
“Coyote.” I pointed at the corral. “David and Grace are in there.”
Terror etched into her face, she ran off the porch and toward the corral. The slim skirt of her dress slowed her down as she raced toward me.
“Stay here, Abigail,” Aunt Mattie said as she bent double to get into the corral. “Call your pa or your uncle. Hurry, baby.”
My feet rooted themselves into the ground when the coyote leapt at David, knocking him down. He hollered and tried to stop the animal, but it bit him on the face and neck. Grace yanked the coyote's tail, and it turned on her. Her pretty, store-bought dress shredded under the animal's attack. Thin, high-pitched screams came out of her throat when the coyote attacked over and over again.
“Michael, Andy!” Aunt Mattie screamed. “Rabid coyote in the corral.”
The whooping and hollering in the barn stopped. A door banged against the wall of the house. No one else was close enough to help except me when the coyote started biting Aunt Mattie. I ducked under the fence.
Horses whinnied and ran in circles. Whenever I got close to one, it reared. One did it right in my face. I threw up a hand to protect myself, but the steel shoe on his hoof bit into my neck. Warm blood trickled onto my dress, and I fell down.
Adam and Pa skidded to a stop outside the corral. Each raised a rifle and fired. The sound echoed against my overdrawn nerves, making me scream in fear for the horse. A thump close by made me look. The coyote had fallen not two feet from me. Just beyond him, Aunt Mattie, Grace, and David lay in unmoving heaps.
“Bart, find a shovel and take that creature out behind the barn,” Pa yelled. “Douse it with kerosene and burn it.”
He and Adam raced past me.
“Andy, look out for Abby,” Pa ordered. “Don't touch the others. Charles, bring our gloves.”
Uncle Andy knelt beside me and wrapped a large, soft cloth bandage around my neck. I looked up at his frightened face.
“I tried,” I sobbed. “Really I did. It's my fault.”
The scene faded, and I returned to the kitchen. I stared at my family, at Uncle Andy.
“It's my fault they died,” I screamed. “I should have told Ma right off that Grace and David snuck into the corral.”
Chapter Thirteen
Adam looked guilty when I fixed him with a glare.
“You told me they were no one,” I cried. “You lied to me!”
“I'm sorry.” He took a step toward me. “You don't understand how bad it was.”
“You lied!”
“We had to make hard choices,” Ma said.
I turned my anger on her. She had always made us live by the rules in the Bible, even though we couldn't get to a church every Sunday. She punished us whenever we broke one of the Ten Commandments. Her rules had abided by the Lord's for as long as I could remember, and she had lied to me for ten years.
She lied!
The thought was almost as hard to swallow as was knowing I had forgotten about Aunt Mattie, Grace, and David, one of my brothers.
The horror at everything I had forgotten, at how everyone had hidden it from me, rose up until I almost choked from their deception. Every single person I had ever trusted had told me lies for ten years. They may not have used words, but their silence made their crime even worse.
“Calm down,” Ma said. “You need to let us explain.”
“I forgot them.” Unreleased tears made my eyes itch. “I forgot I had a brother, and a cousin, and an aunt.”
“Don't think it was hard on us? David was my twin.” A tear ran down Mark's face. “We didn't want to hurt you, Abby.”
I didn't want their excuses, their reasons. To avoid the explanations, to keep them from making me feel better, I yanked open the kitchen door and ran. The sound of horses stopping in front of the house didn't slow me. No matter who it was, even if the Johnsons had shown up, they could run over me.
What kind of person forgot about family? An awful one, a spoiled girl who thought about nothing except her own selfish desires. I sobbed and ran through the horses; hoping one of them ended my miserable existence.
Shouts leant speed to my feet as I sought to escape the horrible guilt ripping through me.
“Abby, stop.” Adam grabbed my arm. “It's not your fault.”
A man dressed in a dark blue uniform dismounted in front of us. I looked around, seeing the same Army troop that had stopped by ten days ago.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Weston?” Captain Smith asked.
“No.” Adam glanced at the house. “Bart, help Captain Smith round up his horses. Remember to hold back Blaze. He's Abby's now.”
He was giving me a horse, a reward, for killing three people? What kind of fool was he? Did he really believe I would accept a gift, and forget all about how I had let three good people die?
“Give them Blaze. I don't want a horse.” I kicked him hard on the same spot I had earlier.
He released my arm and grabbed his leg. I took off, running as far as I could from the pain shredding me into pieces. The corral behind me, I raced into the d
esert. Everyone had always warned me about the danger of doing this, but I no longer cared.
I wasn't sure how long I ran, but I knew it wasn't far enough to escape the certainty I had caused three people to die. My legs quivered before collapsing beneath me. With my hands over my face, I wailed out my grief and guilt.
When my tears stopped, I shook from exhaustion and fear. A velvety nose nuzzled my neck, but I was too tired to react.
“Your Blaze about kicked down the corral fence until I rode out on him,” Adam said. “You scared everyone out of their minds, Abby.”
“Leave me alone.” My voice cracked.
He came around and crouched in front of me. Adam pulled the cork out of a canteen and held it out.
“Drink,” he said.
“No.” I stared at the canteen and ignored the desire to gulp down the water. “Leave me alone.”
“You are one stubborn girl.” He wet a handkerchief and wiped it across my lips.
Some of the water slid into my mouth. It tasted so sweet that I reached for the canteen.
“Sip it.” He gave me the canteen and sat beside me.
While I sipped, he pulled me close. For the first time since hearing the truth, I didn't want to get away from him, or anyone else in my family.
“That was a pretty awful time.” He stared at the mountains in the distance. “You had a gash on your neck. David, Grace, and Aunt Mattie were dying. Uncle Andy stayed with you while we made them comfortable.”
Sometimes I believed the desert had dried all conversation out my family. They never used ten words when one would do, but I needed to hear everything, and prove to myself that I hadn't killed three people.
“Why?”
I stared at him, to let him know I wouldn't be put off any longer. Too many secrets in our family had made me mistrust them.
“Well, I could put you off by asking why what.” Adam pushed the canteen up until I took another sip. “But you'd just get upset again. There's nothing you can do after a rabid animal bites you. There is no cure.”
“I should have hollered for Ma as soon as David teased us about touching the horses,” I muttered.
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