Always, Clay

by Nan O'Berry

  Tears filled her eyes. Emma understood the words her mother issued, however if this would be the last time they had together on earth, she didn’t want to forfeit any.

  “Emma, do as your mother says. We cannot help Clay standing here waiting.”

  Her lips trembled. Lifting her chin, she put down Clay’s hand. Then, stepping forward, she pressed her lips to his cheek. “Stay with us, Clay,” she whispered. “I love you.” One last kiss, she stroked the flesh of his cheek and followed her mother into the kitchen.

  Her head down, Emma stood quietly thinking of the young man she’d left.

  “Emma, grab a cake of soap from the pantry.”

  The words seemed to have no effect upon her.

  “Emma.”

  Her mother’s sharp tone made her look up.

  Stepping toward her daughter, Mrs. Rawlings placed her hands on her shoulders. “Have faith dear. God will see him through.”

  “How did this happen? Why did this happen?”

  Her mother shook her head. “I don’t know why God lets bad things happen to good people. Perhaps, it is a test of our faith.”

  Emma nodded. A tear slid down her cheek. “But I love him so much.”

  Her mother’s face softened. “I know you do. I see it in your eyes. I must admit, I was surprised that it happened so quickly. But I see the same look in Clay’s. He’s a fine man, Emma. A fine one. I will be proud to call him my son-in-law should the relationship between you develop.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, go, get the soap.”

  Emma nodded and hurried into the pantry that lay just off the kitchen. Grabbing it from the second shelf, she was about to walk through the door when Drew hurried into the kitchen.

  “Pa said the bullet passed through.”

  “Thank God…” Rosalynn Rawlings sighed. “It has been a long time since I’ve had to dig for a bullet.”

  “He says to come wash him well. He will have to seal the wound.”

  Emma winced. Stepping from the pantry, she held out the soap.

  “I have it, Ma.”

  Rosalynn turned. “Good, Drew, pour the water into this bowl.” She pointed to the wash bowl that sat on the table. “Then make sure the pot is filled again and boiled. Emma, come, there is work to do.”

  “Ma, I have to go on an errand for Pa,” Drew began and stopped to glance over at his sister.

  Rosalynn stopped short. There was something in his eyes that filled her with unease. “Emma, take these bandages and that soap to your father and wait for me there.” She watched her daughter shift her gaze from her brother to her.

  If there were questions, Emma held them to herself. Walking over to the table, she picked up the basket of medical supplies and walked out of the room.

  Drew opened his mouth to speak.

  Rosalynn held up her hand for silence then slipped to the door. Cracking it, she peeked into the next room to make sure her daughter wasn’t listening. Then turning to her son, she asked, “What is wrong?”

  “Clay came to when I was waiting for father.” Drew cast a worried glance at the doorway. “There’s a dead rider on the trail.”

  Rosalynn’s hand went to her mouth. “You will be safe?”

  Drew nodded and stepped over to pour water into the washbowl. “I’ll fill this up, but I must go.”

  Rosalynn nodded. “Drew, be careful.”

  Her oldest child paused and kissed her cheek.

  Emma rinsed the cloth and handed it back to her mother. Turning, she watched as she brought it down Clay’s right arm. The gaping wound tugged at her eyes. It marred his skin about halfway between the elbow and shoulder. “Oh, Ma,” she whispered.

  Her mother’s head turned. “It could be worse. The bone could have splintered.” She turned back to her patient. “Your father will close the wound and we must keep it clean.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emma promised. “I won’t leave his side.”

  Stepping forward, Emma took the cloth from her mother and wiped his brow. “I love you, Clay. I will never leave you, never.”

  Chapter 11

  Levi Hawkins stood at the edge of his porch. His right hand rested on the post as he stared at the trail leading into Three Rivers. Behind him, the door opened. A shaft of light beamed into the darkness.

  “Did that help, my dear?”

  Levi turned.

  Olivia Hawkins slowly closed the door and walked over to her husband. “Nothing?”

  He shook his head. “Twelve hours late,” he murmured.

  Olivia placed her hand upon his back and laid her head on his shoulder. “It could be a lot of things. His horse threw a shoe. There was bad weather. There…there—”

  He put his arm around her waist and held her close. “I’ve said all those things to myself for the past several hours.”

  “Oh, Levi.”

  He gave her a tired smile. “Denver was a green kid on his first run.”

  “All of the boys had a first run,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, mother, they did.”

  She pulled away and glanced at him. “Look, Clayton hasn’t returned either. Odds are they are together.”

  His glance took on one of hopefulness. “You’re right. If something’s happened, Clay will guide him through.”

  “Yes.” She smiled back. “Now, come get some pie. I’ve put a piece away for Clay and Denver.” She linked her arm in his and led him through the door.

  “Evening, Mr. Hawkins, I’m going to take the boys back to the bunkhouse,” Stone replied as he moved through the doorway.

  “Thank you, Stone.”

  “Yes, sir. Wyeth is out feeding up. Enjoy your pie.” He turned to Olivia. “Ma’am, the boys took their own plates to the kitchen. They wanted to thank you as always, it was the best meal this week. Clay and Denver sure missed something grand.”

  “Thank you, Stone.”

  With a nod, he left the room.

  Levi sat down at the head of the table.

  Olivia watched as he pulled the napkin into his lap. The soft sigh that followed belied the worry her husband tried to hide. Picking up the pie server, she sliced a piece of apple pie and slid it onto a plate. “Here, dear, eat.” She placed it before him and took her own seat.

  He picked up the fork and pressed the side against the crust. Cutting the tip of the pie from the slice, he slid the sweet confection in his mouth. “Nice.”

  She smiled. “You say that every time I bake a pie.”

  “Do I?” He reached out his left hand and she placed hers in his.

  “It will be all right, Levi. Trust in the Lord.”

  He nodded. “In God, I trust. In man, I wonder.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “For now, just eat. I’m going to check on Anna. She’s in there by herself doing dishes.”

  “Of course.”

  Olivia stood and pushed her chair in. She took two steps to the doorway, when Stone walked in unannounced.

  “Mr. Hawkins.”

  Levi stood.

  Stone glanced at the floor.

  Olivia turned and stepped closer. Clearly, something was wrong.

  Stone took a moment to choose his words. “Sir, there—there’s been an accident.”

  Levi shoved the chair back and moved toward the young rider. “What kind of accident?”

  Stone cut a glance to Mrs. Hawkins, then lowered his head. “You best come with me, sir.”

  Olivia watched as her husband escorted Stone out the front door.

  “Ma,” Anna’s voice waivered from the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Dishes, Anna,” Olivia told her daughter.

  “But, Ma?”

  “Dishes.” Olivia’s tone showed no room for disobedience. She waited for the door to close behind her before she walked to the front of the house. Opening the door, she watched Stone and several of the riders, step forward and pull a blanket wrapped body from the horse. Woodenly, her footsteps carried her to the edge of the porch.

&nb
sp; “Take him to the bunkhouse,” Levi muttered. “Wyeth, you ride for Captain Merrick. We are in need of his services.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wyeth muttered. He cast a worried glance toward Olivia, then jogged off toward the barn.

  Olivia took one step down as Levi turned to the young man at his side.

  “Mr. Hawkins?” she called.

  Levi turned and the light shone upon Andrew Rawling’s face, so she could see who’d arrived.

  “Andrew,” she called.

  “Ma’am.” Drew gave a nod of his head.

  Levi moved toward her. “Dear, there’s been a terrible tragedy.”

  Captain Anselm Merrick stood gazing at the line of books on the wall of his study. Supper done, he wanted nothing more than to delve into a good book.

  “Can’t find one?” his sister Rachel murmured as she walked past and selected a book with no problem at all.

  Anselm gave his sister a long look that only a brother could get by with and not be pummeled with a hand or fist. “All you’d pick would be something rather romantic.”

  “Hmm,” she replied but the twitch of her lips did not go unnoticed. “Shakespeare does have several good murders.” She looked up. “Caesar, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She walked past, the silk of her petticoats rustled.

  One hand behind his back, he side stepped and pulled the volume down from the shelf. Turning, he looked up to see her seated in the gracious wing-back chair she had shipped from Boston. “Turn up the light, Rachel, I would hate for you to ruin your eyes. Glasses are not becoming when seeking a beau.”

  She looked up and stuck her tongue at her brother.

  Chuckling, Anselm moved to the sofa and sat down. Opening the book, he’d just finished the first stanza when a knock resounded on the wooden door.

  Rachel glanced up. “Expecting anyone?”

  “No.” He groaned rising and walking to the door.

  Opening, the light revealed Wyeth Bowles tall and lanky form. “Captain,” the boy’s voice held an element of urgency.

  “Wyeth?”

  “Mr. Hawkins needs you to come. Now,” he added.

  Anselm’s brows drew together. “Step in. I need to get my things.”

  Wyeth nodded and stepped into the entryway allowing him room enough to shut the door.

  “Evening, Wyeth.” Rachel smiled.

  “Ma’am.”

  “Is something amiss, brother?” She turned to watch Anselm gather his coat and slip his feet into his boots.

  “Yes.” He stood and stomped his feet. “Let’s go. Sister, don’t wait up.”

  Rachel gave him a smile and walked toward the door.

  “Come, Wyeth, you can tell me what’s going on as we ride.”

  “Ma’am.” Wyeth gave a nod and followed the Captain out.

  Olivia opened the door to the station. “Captain Merrick, so good of you to come.”

  He could see the telltale sign of tears making her eyes red and unruly. “Mrs. Hawkins, I’m terribly sorry.”

  She nodded. “He was a mere boy, Captain, and for someone to do this to him, is unthinkable.”

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “My husband is in the kitchen.” Her voice caught. “With Denver.”

  Anselm strode across the floor noting the solemn faces of the riders seated around the table. “Gentlemen.”

  Each face looked up as he passed. The light in their eyes diminished because of this act of violence.

  Pushing open the door, he entered to find Levi washing the young man’s lifeless body.

  “Shot in the back, Anselm.” Levi voice was filled with anger.

  Anselm walked over to the body.

  Levi grasped Denver’s cold arm and turned the body over so the Captain could examine the entry wound.

  “Do you have any clue who would do this?”

  Levi shook his head. “There’s other news.”

  Anselm let the body rest and waited for Levi to speak.

  “Clayton Adams was also wounded. He’s being treated at the Rocking R.”

  “How do you know?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure stand and walk toward the table.

  “He learned it from me, Captain,” Drew Rawlings replied quietly. “I found him this afternoon. He’s being taken care of by my mother and sister.”

  “Will he live?”

  Drew nodded.

  “I shall need to speak to him.”

  “I suspected as much,” Levi stated with a sad sigh. “I should like to ride out to the ranch with you.”

  “You haven’t told others of Clayton’s injuries?” Anselm asked.

  Drew shook his head. “Only Mr. Hawkins. My father was afraid if someone did this to Denver and he found out Clay was alive, he might want to finish the job. That sir would put my family in danger.”

  Anselm nodded. “Good thinking.” He turned to Levi. “When will you be ready to go?”

  “Just as soon as Wyeth saddles my horse.”

  Clay lay still. His body aching as though being pricked with the pickle fork from Mrs. Hawkins’s silverware. Somewhere, in the distance, someone was crying. He struggled to open his eyes but they seemed weighed with lead. A cool rag stroked his brow and the sensation soothed him. He tried to swallow but his mouth seemed unusually dry.

  “It’s going to be all right, Clay. You’ll see.”

  The soft murmur of the voice triggered a memory. Emma, he’d asked Spirit to take him to Emma. Had the animal truly understood?

  The cloth reached his cheek and continued the course to his neck before disappearing. Seconds later, the sound of water dripping followed. Fighting against the darkness, he struggled to lift his lashes from his cheek. White light rippled as if some strange fog danced before him. He tried moving his right arm but it ignored his urging. Concentrating on his left, he managed to move it an inch. Buoyed by success, Clay raised his lids a fraction more.

  “Clay?”

  Excitement tinged his name. This time, he did swallow and managed to turn his head in the direction of her voice. “Emma.”

  His word was weak. But she heard him. “Clay. Oh, Clay.” Her palm stroked his cheek. “Don’t move. You mustn’t move.”

  Bits and pieces of images came back to him. Denver’s body lying on the road, Drew’s face before he blacked out…pieces that seemed to fit in jagged puzzle form.

  “I was so afraid.” She laid her head down next to him and kissed his cheek.

  Finally, his left arm responded to his command and he moved to take her hand. “Easy, my girl. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her fingers closed over his and she raised her head to look down at him.

  Clay could see the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes and the stain of those she shed still lingering upon her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Her eyes widened. “No, only be sorry if you didn’t come back to me. I don’t think I could live without you by my side. Oh, Clay, I love you so much.”

  He smiled and tightened his grip on her hand. “I love you too, Emma. All I could think about was getting back to you.”

  The coarseness of his voice seemed to signal to her that he needed something to cool his throat. “Let me get you some water.”She rose.

  His grip tightened. “Don’t go. I don’t want you to go. If I can’t see you, I might slip back into that sleep of nothingness.”

  She lifted his hand and pressed her lips to his skin.

  A soft knock sounded on the door. “Emma?”

  Her face broke out into a smile. “Ma, ma, come in. Clay is awake.”

  Mrs. Rawlings hurried into the room. “Oh, Clay, you had us so frightened.” She stood behind her daughter her hands resting on Emma’s shoulders.

  “My apologies.”

  “You needn’t. We are so glad you have rejoined us. I’ll go down for some warm tea. That might soothe your throat and help with the fever.”

  “Fever?”

  “Fathe
r said it was shock,” Emma explained. “You’ve been unconscious since yesterday.”

  Clay’s brow furrowed. He glanced beyond the two women to see the sun already sitting low in the sky.

  Mrs. Rawlings dampened her lips. “Clay, do you feel like talking?”

  He drew his gaze back to her face.

  “Levi and Captain Merrick are downstairs. They’ve been waiting to get your story.”

  He swallowed. Of course, they would need to know what happened. Not that he could tell them much. He slowly nodded his head.

  Mrs. Rawlings patted the blanket over his leg. “Good. I’ll bring the tea and I won’t let them tire you out.”

  “Thank you.” He watched Mrs. Rawlings leave the room. “Stay with me, Emma.”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  True to her word, Mrs. Rawlings brought not only a cup of tea but Captain Merrick, Levi Hawkins, Mr. Rawlings, Drew, and Stephen. Mr. Rawlings and Levi helped him to sit up and

  Emma placed pillows beneath his back to ease the pain. Holding her head aloft, she moved the chair toward the head of the bed where he sat and took his hand. If her parents disapproved, they said nothing.

  “I guess we’re all here,” Mr. Rawlings joked.

  Clay pulled the cup from his lips and looked around at the faces in the room. “I don’t think anyone has been left out.”

  Captain Merrick stepped over to the bed. “I’m sorry to have to ask you these questions, but I need to know and understand the facts.”

  “Yes sir, I understand,” Clay replied. He handed Emma the half filled cup of warm tea. She placed it on the night stand next to the bed. His grip on Emma’s hand tightened.

  “So you were heading back to Three Rivers.”

  Clay slowly nodded. “Yes sir, I left Emma just after luncheon. When I got to the road, Denver passed me heading toward Three Rivers.”

  “Did you see anyone riding behind him?”

  Clay shook his head. “No.”

  “Did any other riders pass you?”

  “No.”

  “Where did you come across Denver?”

  “I’m guessing it was about five miles from here. In the little grove of trees before you get to Ransom’s place.”