by Jim Woolard
Nathan said “Good night” and walked in the opposite direction toward the stable. He was mostly satisfied with how the rapid-fire events of the evening had unfolded. The sale of Payne Merchandise had been averted, and he’d been invited to breakfast by his aunt. Though he didn’t want to attach undue significance to her invitation, Alana Birdsong sounded like she was ready to confide in him, which pleased him immensely. He was rapidly coming to understand why his uncle, a confirmed bachelor, had taken a wife so late in life.
His sole regret was that he hadn’t had the chance to so much as say “Good evening” to Laura Payne. That bothered him more than Roan Buckman’s failure to acknowledge he existed. But then, his vote had meant nothing if Alana Birdsong opted to sell her shares. It intrigued him how precisely Roan Buckman, an outsider, understood the provisions of the Payne charter. He’d known beforehand his aunt’s decision would determine the outcome of the evening. And who else but Eldon Payne could have provided him such information?
Nathan was quick to admit to himself that he was afraid of Roan Buckman. The cold detachment with which the oldest Buckman brother had accepted the thwarting of his desires had been most disturbing. Roan Buckman was determined and ruthless and his efforts to obtain control of Payne Merchandise had by no means ended with his aunt’s refusal to sell. The situation brought to mind a favorite saying of Ira Westfall’s: It didn’t matter who let the fox in the henhouse, bad tidings were sure to follow.
A chill breeze nudged the stable lanterns to and fro. Charlie Swain wasn’t in sight as Nathan expected, and he called the cowboy’s name. Charlie didn’t answer. Thinking the former lawman was waiting inside out of the wind, Nathan kept walking.
The leather boots protruding from the second stall of the stable stopped Nathan in his tracks. The boots hadn’t been there upon their arrival, and no cowboy would willingly sleep on the floor of an empty, manure-strewn horse stall. Nathan tugged the tie-down free of the hammer and drew his pistol, crouched, and peered about. His hand was shaking so badly he could hardly keep from dropping the six-gun. He wanted to cut and run, but he feared he would expose himself beneath the doorway lanterns.
Head up, eyes probing the dark, he shuffled sideways and leaned against the wall dividing the first and second stalls. He slowly sank onto his heels, stuck his free hand out, and clutched one of the protruding boots. He pulled and tugged. “Charlie,” he whispered. “Charlie, can you hear me?”
The silence ate at his nerves. He studied the entire stable. There was no intrusive sound or movement anywhere. The horses in the other stalls showed no sign of alarm. Without rising from his crouch, he turned slowly, stepped into the stall with Charlie, and extended a hand to clutch the cowboy’s shoulder.
A slight disturbance in the shadows and the faint swish of something being propelled through the air were Nathan’s only warning. In that precious second, he ducked just enough that the descending club caught him a glancing blow on the side of his head rather than on the top.
His eyes tried to escape their sockets. The world spun like a windmill and he couldn’t tell up from down. Then the pain came, harsh and terrible, so powerful he was sure his head would burst. The six-gun slipped from his fingers and he sank downward.
A close by voice spoke. “Didn’t miss this time, bucko.”
Nathan landed shoulder first and rolled onto his back, coming to rest against Charlie Swain. He fought to maintain consciousness, but it was like trying to swim in mud. He teetered on the brink of blackness.
“Hit him another lick,” a different voice ordered.
In the next instant, the same voice screamed, “Watch out!”
A large object sailed across Nathan’s blurry eyes. As his senses waned, he heard a vicious growl, followed by the snapping of fanged teeth.
Then there was nothing.
Eleven
He awakened one eye at a time. An electric light, green globe casting triangular shadows on the ceiling, hung directly above him. He lay in a room with a single, night-darkened window and burning wood stove. His bed’s feather pillows were worn, the mattress hard, the sheets patched, and the comforter threadbare.
While his surroundings seemed safe and secure, they were nevertheless unsettling. He didn’t know where he was, and had absolutely no memory of how he’d come to be in this particular room. And who had stripped him naked, shaved him, and sprinkled him with lavender toilet water of all things?
He turned to look toward the door of the room and an incredibly intense pain rocketed through his entire skull. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming. He stayed perfectly still until the hurt subsided enough that he dared move an arm. He gently touched his left temple and encountered a thick bandage. When he reached higher, he discovered the bandage covered the entire top of his head.
Nathan slowly lowered his arm. He had been badly hurt, and expertly bandaged afterwards. He just wished he knew how he’d been hurt, and who had brought him to this place and provided for his needs.
The low growl at the foot of the bed startled him. Toenails clicked on the wooden floor, and out of the corner of his eye Nathan caught a glimpse of stubby ears separated by a thatch of black hair. Given the height of the animal, the shape of its ears, and the thickness of its hair, unless a wolf was on the loose, it could only be his aunt’s dog, Sam.
Showing no interest in Nathan, the beast lapped water from a vessel Nathan couldn’t see and returned to the foot of the bed, this time without growling. For once, Nathan wasn’t scared by the huge dog. He simply hurt too much to fear him.
He’d last seen Sam at Payne Merchandise and the giant guard dog supposedly never left the company of his mistress. How had he come to be here and not with his aunt? Did that mean Alana Birdsong was nearby?
The pain ebbed and drowsiness beset him. He stayed awake long enough to decide he was somewhere in the town of Alamosa, for the ST had no electricity. And given the shabby trappings of his undersized quarters, he probably occupied a hotel room, most likely at the Imperial House, though he had no clue as to how he knew the hotel’s name.
Upon awakening, a small male face plucked free of hair hovered not five inches from his nose. The slanted eyes of the small face nearly popped out. “Ming bring Mrs. Tanner, quick, quick.”
The door opened and closed and Nathan was alone again. He chanced movement, felt nothing more than a bearable throb at his left temple, and tugged the comforter closer about himself. With a lady on the way, he wanted to make sure his naked torso was properly covered.
He dared to fluff the feather pillow and his hand struck hard metal. Fishing beneath the pillow, he discovered a six-gun with the initials “N.T.” carved into its wooden grips. Nathan smiled. He didn’t know when, but Heft Thomas had visited the room. No one except the salty foreman would have the foresight to place a hurt man’s pistol within easy reach.
The door opened and Alana Birdsong stepped into the room. Her blue eyes sparkled and her smile was brighter than the sunlight pouring through the window of the room. Her yellow shirtwaist was made of imported silk, her full-length trousers of brown corduroy. A leather belt secured by a large buckle of pounded silver circled her slim waist. Her wearing of trousers, boldly colored shirtwaist, and loose auburn hair instead of the customary floor-length dress and tightly braided bun hairstyle had to be fodder for the gossip mill of Alamosa. Nathan didn’t give a hoot what the town biddies thought. Alana Birdsong’s beauty and spirit made him wish he were much older.
Sam rushed to meet her, a happy whine replacing the growl that greeted other humans. The huge dog wagged his tail and licked the fingers Alana Birdsong offered him. Nathan could hardly believe what he was seeing. Even wild beasts loved his aunt.
“Good boy, Sam. Good boy,” Alana Birdsong said, leaning to pat the huge dog on the shoulder. Seemingly satisfied with the attention he’d received from his mistress, Sam growled at Nathan and returned to his spot at the bottom of the bed. A sigh rattled in his throat and the huge dog settled to the floor
.
“Nathan, it’s grand you’re awake,” Alana Birdsong said, easing herself onto the bed next to him.
“How long have I been laid up here?”
“Three days and three nights. The doctor has been as worried as we have. How do you feel?”
“Other than a monumental ache above the ear, I’m fine,” Nathan said. “What happened to me?”
“You don’t remember?”
Nathan shook his head, which he regretted immediately. But the pain he provoked, while harsh, was tolerable and short in duration. “The last thing I recall is parting company with you and Sam on the porch of Mr. Payne’s store. I can’t remember anything after that. How was I hurt?”
“Men carrying clubs assaulted you and Charlie in the stable. You took a nasty blow on the side of the head.”
“What about Charlie?” Nathan inquired anxiously.
Alana Birdsong touched Nathan’s hand, her expression suddenly sad. “Whoever it was killed Charlie. We buried him yesterday.”
Nathan studied the green globe of the ceiling light. He, too, was saddened by the loss of Charlie Swain. Though he’d just met the former lawman, he admired how Charlie Swain hadn’t allowed the disfiguring scars inflicted by the grizzly bear to ruin his life. Nathan doubted he would have been as courageous about being viewed in public if his own scars were on his forehead and neck instead of his arm and leg.
Alana Birdsong squeezed her nephew’s hand. “Nathan, those men were lurking in the dark, waiting to waylay you. They weren’t there to rob you. They never so much as touched the gold eagles you carry inside your shirt. They intended to kill you. They killed Charlie to avoid being seen. I wouldn’t have necessarily believed this before, but Heft finally spilled the beans about Seth. Did he share with you what he really believes happened to my husband?”
“Yes, ma’am, after dinner the evening I arrived. He didn’t think he should upset you until he had proof of some kind.”
The corners of Alana Birdsong’s mouth bunched up and anger flared in her blue eyes. “I’ve warned Heft that if he ever withholds vital information from me again he’s finished at the ST. I didn’t let your uncle treat me like a china doll, and neither will any other man. Do we understand each other, Nephew?”
Nathan’s “Yes, ma’am” rolled off his tongue quicker than the strike of the cobra. He was witnessing for the first time the woman Sam Darling had described in St. Louis, the strong-willed female who’d tamed Seth Tanner, and Nathan wasn’t about to find himself at cross purposes with her.
“Nathan, I fear for our lives,” Alana Birdsong said. “After what happened in the stable, I’m convinced someone’s plotting against us. Seth and Charlie have been murdered, and we don’t have inkling as to who was responsible. For all we know, your parents may have died at the hands of the same killers or somebody hired by them. Everyone is aware how much the Buckman brothers hated your uncle, which counts for nothing because we’ve no proof, none whatsoever, against them or anybody else.”
Alana Birdsong sighed. “Heft and the ranch crew are devoted to me, but they’re not policemen and neither are we. We need help identifying our enemies and quite frankly, I don’t know where to turn.”
“What about the police here in Alamosa?”
“If we went to them with what we suspect, what could they do? No one saw you and Charlie being attacked. No one was seen running away. The only possible witness, old Lester, was snoring merrily away in the tack room, and he didn’t wake up until after I’d found you.”
“You found me?”
“Yes. Sam started growling a block from the Imperial House and went tearing back toward the Payne store. I still can’t believe he ignored my order to ‘Stay.’ I followed him, and when I reached the front of the store, he wasn’t in sight, but a commotion was taking place in the stable. A man was yelling, ‘Get him off me! Get him off me!’ Then I heard Sam yelp and the commotion ceased. I went barging into the stable and what greeted me wasn’t pretty. You were flat on your back with Sam scrunched down beside you. Charlie Swain was lying on the opposite side of you. Let me tell you, I was awfully glad you were still breathing. I commandeered some men from the train station and had them carry you here as gently as they could. Doctor Langston returned from a call out in the country at dawn. She looked you over and bandaged your head.”
“The doctor’s a woman?” Nathan exclaimed. “She didn’t undress me, did she?”
Alana Birdsong threw back her head and laughed. “No, Ellie Langston examined your wound and bandaged it. Ming undressed and washed you.”
Feeling a tad sheepish, Nathan quickly changed the subject. “Did Roan Buckman know I was riding to Alamosa from the ST?”
“Yes, he knew. Eldon telephoned me and insisted we meet that same day to discuss selling the business lock, stock, and barrel. When I arrived in town he wanted to include Roan Buckman. I refused. I reminded him the company charter reads that all partners or their heirs must be present if a vote to sell or dissolve the business is to be conducted. I telephoned the ranch and instructed Ming to send you to town as soon as you returned, then ring up the store to confirm you were on the way. After Ming telephoned us back, Eldon and I sent word to Roan that the three of us would meet with him at eight p.m. So, Roan knew you were coming for a good three hours. Is that important?”
“Maybe it is, maybe not. He never so much as glanced at me in the store office,” Nathan ventured. “It was like he was aware my vote counted for nothing unless you agreed to sell. You wouldn’t, and not ten minutes later, Charlie and I were waylaid in the stable.”
“What would Roan stand to gain by killing you after I refused his offer?”
Nathan lifted his hands in exasperation. “I don’t have an answer for that, unless he wanted to send a warning of what might happen to you, if you didn’t change your mind.”
“I wouldn’t put such a thing past him,” Alana Birdsong confessed with a shudder. She stroked Nathan’s arm and rose to her feet. “You’d better get some sleep now. I promised Ellie Langston we wouldn’t tire you and our lady doctor will stop by to check your wound before the days out.”
Nathan made no protest. He was exhausted and could hardly keep his eyes open. Alana Birdsong paused at the door. “Sam will keep watch over you day and night until you’re up and around. Nephew, you have no idea how proud Seth would be of you. Your uncle was a very shrewd cowman, but he couldn’t have handled the situation at Eldon Payne’s office a whit better.”
Nathan’s big grin as the door closed behind Alana Birdsong didn’t hurt his swollen temple even a tiny bit.
Twelve
The giant dog came charging from the dark as he had in Nathan’s dreams so many nights of late. Nathan thought it peculiar the beast never barked. He prepared to run for his life as usual. Then he noticed the dog’s gaze was locked on something other than him for a change. The charging dog’s path altered and he hurtled past, shoulder brushing Nathan’s thigh.
The contact jolted Nathan awake. To his amazement, he was sitting up in his hotel bed, grasping the bristly hair of Sam’s neck. The giant dog, paws resting on the edge of the mattress, was staring at Nathan, black nose twitching and snuffling. Nathan’s heart threatened to stop as horrid memories of the mastiff chewing on his leg, red blood soaking his trousers, and the torturous suturing of the wounds afterwards filled him with dread.
He was afraid to squirm away for fear of inviting an attack. With the deliberate care of a jeweler placing a chisel to cut a rare gem, Nathan relinquished his hold on Sam’s neck. The dog paid no heed and leaned ever closer. Nathan felt hot breath on his cheek and cringed. But instead of attacking, Sam emitted what equated to a human sigh, dropped to the floor, and went padding back to his station at the foot of the bed.
Nathan fell back on the bed. He was still shaking, head throbbing worse than ever, when a set of knuckles tattooed the door of his room. Before he could respond, the door swept open and a female scarecrow flew into the room. He honestly looked
for the broomstick she had to be riding.
His hustling female visitor lacked shoulders, hips, and breasts. Her percale shirtwaist, six-button vest, and pleated skirt hung on her narrow frame limp as wet wash on a clothesline. The only thing that kept her from being the ultimate scarecrow was the absence of straggly hair. Even at that, her hair was drawn into a bun so severe it threatened to pull the skin from her face.
The scary creature plopped a black satchel at the bottom of Nathan’s bed. Small rimless glasses perched precariously on the bridge of a nose the width of a knife blade. Owl-sized brown eyes peered at Nathan. “I’m Dr. Ellie Langston.”
Nathan couldn’t decide whether to nod or run. Since flight meant exposing his unclad nether parts, he nodded slowly, very slowly, while trying to wrap more of the threadbare comforter about his nakedness. Dr. Ellie Langston cracked a short-lived grin. “You needn’t get timid on me, Mr. Tanner. I’m interested in your injury. I’ll leave the balance of you to the Chinaman.”
Nathan blushed. “You’ll have to excuse me, Doctor. I’m not accustomed to greeting ladies from bed in a state of undress.”
Ellie Langston’s laugh was as fleeting as her grin, but amusement put a twinkle in her owlish eyes all the same. “Trust me, Mr. Tanner, after five years of doctoring in Alamosa and the surrounding countryside there ain’t much about a man I haven’t been privy to. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate proper manners when I encounter them.”
The female scarecrow lifted a roll of white gauze, a pair of scissors, and a small blue can from her satchel. “We’ll need to remove the old bandage and replace it, Mr. Tanner. A doctor must examine a wound first-hand to treat it.”
Unwinding the old bandage proved awkward. Nathan found holding his head off the pillow while Ellie Langston ministered to him strained the muscles of his neck and provoked a new wave of pain. The last few rounds of bandage took the longest. “We need to be careful here, Mr. Tanner. We don’t want to disturb the scab, what there is.”