Rena brushed the tears away with her sleeve. “Mrs. Wood, thank you for being so kind. I know how fast Lottie slips away, for she has done that to us.”
Mrs. Wood walked with them. “I was worried about her cough. Drew said she’d been quite ill from her asthma.”
Rena rolled her eyes. “From running away in the dust storm. See how ragged she breathes now from scampering away from you. She had a dose of her medicine this morning, but I see she needs another. It is in our hotel rooms.”
She worried about Lottie’s labored breathing. How ashamed Rena was of her recent choices. She closed her eyes in sorrow and hugged Lottie to her. The child should have been resting instead of darting down the street. Rena should have stayed with the children as the sheriff said.
Now she understood how foolish her quest had been. But without it, she would not have Storm as her husband or these three children as hers. Still, motherhood required many changes in her life. From now on, she must think first of the children and her husband, then of her own wishes.
“Maybe you’d like some company until your husband returns.”
Joyous relief swept through Rena. “Ja, Yes, very much. Time will pass slowly until Storm is with us.”
The posse led by Sheriff Foster thundered out of town.
Where was Storm? Charlie Wilson was almost as cruel as the one called Ute. And was the fourth man waiting with a trap for Storm? Rena prayed the posse would be in time to safeguard her husband. Could he win against a man so brutal?
Chapter Twenty Two
Storm rode swiftly north. This time Charlie wouldn’t escape. Charlie’s friends were no longer in position to help him. That is, unless the fourth unknown man waited for him to show up with the bank’s payload.
None of the men appeared to have valuables with them. That meant they had a cache somewhere. Storm figured the site would be nearby.
At a creek, he lost the tracks and wasted precious time riding back and forth on both sides of the small stream. He spotted a hoof print in the sand and set off in that direction. The faint prints led northwest instead of north toward the Red River.
When he broke through a smattering of scrub brush, he saw a cabin. Charlie’s horse stood outside. Beside a buckboard, Charlie loaded something into his saddlebags.
As Storm approached, Charlie ducked behind the wagon and fired at Storm.
Storm dropped from his horse and zigzagged for a water trough. A bullet from the cabin sent splinters flying at his face. He brushed them aside and took aim. He wished for his Winchester. He’d have to work his way closer without taking lead.
The sound of horses approaching drew Storm’s attention. He hoped it was the overdue posse. Just then, a horse broke from behind the cabin and galloped north. The man in the saddle leaned low over the horse in the way some Indian tribesmen rode to escape injury. That left Charlie alone, but too far for a Colt.
Charlie dashed for the house and Storm followed and got off a shot. The crook stumbled but returned fire. Storm aimed again, this time, Charlie fell forward, half on the dirt and half on the small wooden porch. When Storm reached him, the killer still held a revolver, but his hands no longer had the strength to pull the trigger.
Storm took the gun from Charlie’s hands. “How bad is it?” He knelt to check the man’s wounds.
“Bad. Better this way. Ain’t never goin’ to no prison.”
Blood stained the man’s chest and leg. He bled too much too fast. Storm knew Charlie was right. With a whoosh of bloody froth from his mouth, the man died.
Charlie Wilson would never go to prison.
Storm stood and walked into the cabin. He surveyed the one room. Four bunks stood in a row on one side. If the place had ever been cleaned, that had happened long ago.
Rancid salt pork gathered flies. Beans stuck to the bottom of a blackened pan. Not even decent food. Made the life of an outlaw appear far less than enviable.
So, this is where all that killing and greed led? Who would live like this? Who would commit the atrocities these men had?
Sheriff Foster and a four man posse including Bill McAfee rode up.
“See you got him.” Sheriff Foster nudged Charlie with his boot.
“Fourth man rode away, but I was battling Charlie and didn’t give chase.” Storm gestured to Charlie’s horse. “Charlie was loading his saddlebags when I got here. The man who got away didn’t appear to have anything more than his saddlebags with him.”
“By now, he’ll be in Indian Territory.” Sheriff Foster pounded his palm with his fist. “Those boys got to have treasure hereabouts somewhere.”
“I believe my wife’s and our kids’ belongings are part of this, but what her grandfather lost wouldn’t fit in that saddlebag.”
The sheriff looked at the outlaw. “Anything left inside?”
“Didn’t make a thorough search, sheriff. Figured you’d want to go over the place.”
“You figured right.” He signaled his men. “Let’s take this place apart so we know nothing of value is left here.” He paused and sent Storm a hard look. “They didn’t leave many survivors to claim their belongings.”
“None I know of except my family, but some of the dead have kin. One couple we found close to San Saba was near the dead man’s brother. No way to tell what was taken there, though, unless there are family pieces the brother can identify.”
“We get back to town, your wife and kids will have to check for their items. Your wife know how much cash was taken?”
He thought of Rena and Abram’s saving and scrimping. “Probably to the penny. Also quite a lot of family jewelry she’ll want back. The kids don’t know how much was taken, but they’ll recognize their mother’s cameo brooch.”
He walked into the house with the sheriff. His deputies had dismantled the bunks and slit the thin mattresses. Stones had been pulled from the fireplace hearth. Loose boards pried up from the floor left gaping holes.
McAfee glanced up. “Nothing yet, sheriff.”
As they walked outside, Storm spotted a shovel leaning against the house. “Fresh dirt on this. Must have buried something.” He picked up the spade and scanned the yard.
“Let’s check around for signs of fresh digging. These men weren’t the type to bury their rubbish.” The sheriff stepped around the cabin’s corner.
“I’ll go the other way.” Storm walked in a wide arc, circling around to meet the other lawman.
They spotted the freshly turned earth about the same time. The two exchanged excited looks and strode toward the spot.
“I’ll dig for a while, sheriff. You want to look around, see if this is the only burial?”
While Storm dug, Sheriff Foster stalked back and forth through the tall grass.
The shovel thunked against something hard. Storm knelt and brushed aside the soil. “Found something here.”
“Strike rock?”
“Not a rock. Looks like the top of a wooden crate.” He commenced digging again, careful not to damage the container. “Sucker’s big.” Strange he should be so tired.
He recalled he hadn’t slept much last night, and it brought a smile to his face. Must be why he was dragging his rear today. What a passionate woman he’d married. You’re a lucky son of a gun, Kincaid.
“Reckon they planned on sneaking back when they could. Less to carry. I’ll see if I can find something else to dig with.” Sheriff Foster strode toward the house. “Hey, any of you men have a camp shovel?”
After half an hour of digging, they’d uncovered two crates. With a man on each corner, they lifted them out of their burial hole.
One deputy asked, “How we gonna get ‘em back to town?”
Storm glanced up. “That wagon in front doesn’t look as run down as the cabin. Maybe the outlaws drove it here. Should be a harness someplace.”
“I saw one hanging on the wall.” Another of the men trotted toward the front of the house.
“Let’s try the horse I rode, sheriff. She belonged to one of t
he outlaws, and seemed docile enough. Maybe she’ll take to the harness. Charlie’s might also.”
The deputy returned. “Found a double harness.”
By the time they got the crates loaded and wrapped and loaded Charlie Wilson’s body in the back of the buckboard, a couple of hours had passed. Storm drove the wagon and they headed back to Vernon.
He thought the buzzing in his head must be from all the excitement. That digging had taken all his energy. Good thing he was a rancher instead of a ditch digger. He loved being on a horse, but right now this bench seat with a firm back suited him.
They reached town by late afternoon. Curious residents gathered to watch the procession. Ever the politician, Sheriff Foster halted and addressed the crowd.
“Marshal Kincaid shot the man who escaped here. One man got away and headed for Indian Territory. We recovered property the outlaws stole.
“This is a law abiding town and we won’t tolerate miscreants in our city. Dead man is Charlie Wilson. We’ll take him along to the funeral parlor. Nothing else to see, folks.”
Storm pulled alongside the jail. The buzzing increased. In addition, his head ached like a blacksmith pounded an anvil inside. The deputies offloaded the crates.
Sheriff Foster unlocked a cell. “For the time being, put ‘em in here for safekeeping.”
“Where’s the undertaker?” Storm stood in the doorway, bracing his hand against the doorjamb.
“My deputies will see to Charlie Wilson. You go on back to your family. Bring them over in the morning and we’ll see if your wife can find her property.”
“Thanks, Sheriff Foster.” He turned and walked toward the hotel. He wanted more than anything to see his family, to hold Rena in his arms. He’d almost lost her.
“I’ll go with you.” Bill McAfee joined him. “I sure thought you and your wife were goners.”
“So did I. Good thing you’re a sharpshooter, McAfee, or we would have been.”
“Turned out all right, especially if your wife gets her share back.” Bill touched his arm. “Say, are you all right? You look a little green around the gills.”
Storm forced a smile. “Half breeds don’t turn green.” But he felt green or gray.
“Glad to know that.” Bill chuckled. “I stand corrected. In that case, you look like hell. And I notice your limp is worse.”
“Kind of you to point that out. And after I’ve had such a nice lazy day, you’d think I’d look all rested as I skipped along.” They reached the lobby and headed for the stairs. Man, those stairs had multiplied in his absence.
“Yeah, can’t figure it out.” At his room, Bill pulled out his key. “Well, hope tomorrow’s a more exciting day.”
“Yeah. Like hell.” He opened 201 and went inside.
Rena and the children rushed to him. What a welcoming sight. How quickly his life had changed.
A few weeks ago he’d thought he wasn’t ready for a family. Now he couldn’t imagine life without Rena and three kids. He gave thanks he’d been given these loved ones now. That he’d live to come back to them.
Rena threw her arms around him. She kissed him and ran her hands over him as if checking him over. “Your skin, it is too hot.”
Hot? He figured even his blood boiled. “I’m fine. No holes, honey. Just as I left.” He hugged the kids to him and put his arms around his wife.
“Do not joke about this. I worried so much. Mrs. Wood stayed until we heard the posse return. Without her I would have gone crazy.”
“Nice of her to keep you company.”
“She was so upset that Lottie had run away from her. She wanted to make amends. But we know how quickly our little girl can escape.”
He picked up Lottie. “Lottie, you must never run away from us again. Do you understand?”
Lottie pouted. “Want Mama.”
“Even if you want your mama, you have to mind us. Is that clear?”
She reached for Rena. “Mama.”
Rena put her hands on her hips. “Oh, no, Charlotte Ann Hansen Kincaid. You listen to Papa. Do not think you can divide us. We mean for you to mind us both.”
Lottie put her head on Storm’s shoulder and cried, and then patted his face. “Sowwy.”
“Then don’t let it happen again, Lottie.” He cupped her chin so she met his gaze. “If you ever run away again, I’ll paddle your backside.” He set her on the floor. “Okay, you kids go in your room and play. I need to talk to Mama.”
“Pee pee.” Lottie ran for her potty.
“I’m coming, Lottie.” Drew trudged after her.
Susie skipped behind him. “Me, too.”
Rena stared after them. “Drew should not think he has to look after Lottie. He should play and laugh more.”
“When we’re home, he can play with his cousins and have a lot of fun. Now, we have to make arrangements. Sheriff Foster wants us to come tomorrow to identify your part of the stolen goods.”
“Something is not right.” She touched his face. “You are not fine. I knew that leg was infected. Get your clothes off and get in bed.”
“Just the offer I hoped for, but something tells me not the end result I wanted.”
She unbuttoned his shirt. “Do not make jokes. Infection is very serious.”
“I know, honey. I have to admit my head is killing me. Had this buzzing in my ears, too.” He closed the door so he could undress.
“I should have made you let me change the dressings. Always you say you would rather do it yourself.”
“I knew you’d just fuss. We had to catch those men. With any luck, they kept your things tied up as you described. Maybe they took the tin box from the Hansens, so the kids will have their share too.” He reached out. “I-I—“ His world went black
Chapter Twenty Three
Rena realized Storm was falling and managed to steer him toward the bed. He dropped with the lower half of his body hanging off the edge. Too large for her to lift, she levered his legs until all of him stretched out on the mattress. She hurried to the door and rushed across to Bill’s door.
He responded to her banging. “What’s wrong?” He shoved his feet into his boots as he spoke.
She wrung her hands. “Storm passed out. I’m sure his leg is infected. I don’t know what to do for him. Would you please get the doctor?”
“I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his hat and rushed down the stairs.
She returned to the room and poured water from the pitcher into the bowl. After soaking the hand towel, she bathed Storm’s face and chest. She struggled to unfasten his pants and pull them down.
When she’d tugged them over his hips and down to his knees, she bent to untie the bandage. As she unwrapped the soiled cloth, her heart stopped. A putrid odor meant his wound had gone too long unattended. Angry red flesh puckered around the festered bullet hole. The stitches Mrs. Pursley sewed had burst and torn the swollen flesh.
The husband she loved must have been in terrible pain for days. Foolishness, why did he hide this from her? She wanted to weep, to curse, to yell.
She knew the answer. Because she wanted her money and her mother’s jewelry returned. She wanted to punish the men who killed Abram. She wanted, she wanted, she wanted. As if possessions and vengeance were worth this fine man enduring pain.
And because he accepted a duty to capture evil men. Duty? What did he owe the dead? His pain brought no one back to life.
Dear God in Heaven, protect this man.
She heard steps pounding up the stairs. Someone rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
Bill hurried inside the room. “Doctor’s on his way. I came ahead in case you needed help.”
“Will you assist me to undress him? I cannot get his pants off.”
“Let me remove his boots, and then I’ll yank off those britches.” Bill set to work and soon had Storm naked. “I’ll roll him, and you scoot the cover down.”
“Och, ja. Susie and Lottie do not need to see him in the altogether.” She tugged
and shoved until she had the top sheet over him instead of under.
Bill stood back. “Now, at least he can rest until the doc comes.”
A rap sent her rushing to the door.
“Hear you have another patient.” Dr. Larrimore strode in.
“He was shot last week when we rescued the children. We stopped at a farmhouse where a woman dug out the bullet and used flour and gunpowder as a paste.”
“That usually works. Let me see.” Dr. Larrimore pulled back the cover. He made tusking noises as he examined the wound. “He has a bad infection. Much longer and he’d have blood poisoning throughout his body. Might still.”
Blood poisoning? People died from that. Fear had her grabbing the edge of the wardrobe to remain upright. But she refused to give in to weakness when her husband needed her. “Do not tell me this. You must help him.”
“I’ll do my best, Mrs. Kincaid. Can’t do more than that.” The doctor continued working as he spoke. “How’s the little girl?”
“Much better. The tonic and tea helped.” As much as she loved Lottie, now she wanted to hear about Storm.
He removed a jar from his bag and unscrewed the lid.
“What is in the jar?”
Dr. Larrimore smiled. ‘Hirudo medicinalis.” He held the open container so she could see.
“Leeches?” The sight made Rena fight down the urge to vomit. “You’re putting leeches on his leg?”
“They’ll suck out the bad blood and keep it from flowing to the rest of his body. If the poison reaches his heart, he’ll die.”
Revulsion turned her stomach as she saw the leaches turn red and fat on her husband’s blood. Poor Storm slept, and she thought that best. He did not need to see this. Would it help?
When the doctor finished and plucked off the engorged worms, he bandaged Storm’s leg. Then, he snapped closed his bag and prepared to leave. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and see how he’s doing. We may have to amputate that leg to save him.”
“Amputate? This word, it means cut off his leg, does it not?” Terror streaked through her and gripped her heart in a vise strong enough to clamp steel. “No. He would not want that. Ranchers need both legs.”
Most Unsuitable Courtship Page 17