Around the River's Bend

by Aaron McCarver

After a time Sabrina came out and threw the dishwater out on the ground. “Don’t spoil that cat,” she said. “There are rats in the house.”

  “They’re not rats. They’re mice. I think they’re rather cute. There’ll be even more coming in as it gets colder. You ought to feel sorry for them. They’re harmless fellows.”

  “I hate mice.”

  “One comes to my lean-to every night, and I feed him crumbs. Or her, rather. She’s a mother. I haven’t seen any of her pups yet.”

  “I don’t like mice or rats. Now put that cat down.”

  Surprised at her tone, Sion put the cat down and then stood up. “Something bothering you?”

  “I don’t like it that you’re courting Hannah Spencer.”

  “Me? I’m not courting anyone!”

  “You’re giving a pretty good imitation of it. Enough that you and Fox had a fight over her.”

  “That was all his doing,” Sion said defensively. “I hate it worse than anyone. He’s a good friend of mine. He just got tangled up in his own harness.”

  “Well, I think you should stay away from Hannah.”

  Sion Kenyon was an easygoing man, but her words rubbed against him. “Miss, I’ll do the work, but I’ll see whomever I like.”

  It was the first time Sion had ever spoken to her sharply, and Sabrina seemed surprised. She put her hands on her waist and said, “Don’t forget you’re working for me for the next four and a half years!”

  “No question about that. If you find fault with my work, let me know.”

  “You know I don’t find fault with that. You’ve been a hard worker, and I’m pleased. But you’re going to hurt Hannah.”

  “That’s between her and me.”

  “And Fox. He’s a fine man and he loves Hannah. Do you?”

  Sion stared at her. “Miss Fairfax,” he said formally, “have I asked you if you love Drake Hammond?”

  “No, and you’d better not.”

  Sion couldn’t help himself from laughing. “I think you’re as mixed up as Fox is. Everyone says you’re going to marry him.”

  “I probably will.”

  “You’d better not,” Sion said quietly.

  “Why not?” she said with a challenging look flashing in her eyes.

  “Because you don’t love him.”

  The simple statement seemed to catch Sabrina off guard and anger her. “How would you know about a thing like that? Are you an expert in love?”

  Sion knew he had gone too far. He was silent for a moment and looked down at the ground studying Ulysses. Then he lifted his head and said quietly, “It’s all written in your eyes, miss,” then turned and walked away.

  ****

  The conversation with Sabrina had troubled Sion greatly. He knew that both of them had spoken out of turn, and he was sorry for his own part in it. “You talk like a fool, man,” he said aloud as he walked down to the creek where he knew deer sometimes came to water. He had taken his rifle and used hunting as an excuse to get away from the cabin. “What business is it of yours if she marries Drake Hammond? But on the other hand, what business is it of hers if I find Hannah Spencer attractive?”

  He shook his head in disgust and tried to push the matter out of his mind. He examined the sand along the creek for signs of deer but found no fresh tracks. His stomach told him it was close to suppertime, so he headed back toward the cabin. He was still preoccupied with the confrontation with Sabrina and went back over their conversation in his head.

  Just then he felt something strike him in the back and thought it must have been a rock, for he felt no pain. He looked down and saw with a sudden cold shock that an arrowhead had penetrated his body and was sticking out of his chest. He stood in disbelief for a moment, and then the pain struck. He turned to see where the arrow had come from and saw an Indian laughing and crying out in his own tongue. Sion raised his musket and squeezed off one shot, which hit the Indian in the shoulder.

  Sion saw the Indian turn and run just before Sion fell to the ground on his side. The pain was worse now, and he looked down to study the arrow. It was stuck high in his chest, and the end of the arrow was covered with blood. There was more rich blood leaking out of his shirt around the arrow. The pain grew worse, but he knew he had to get help. He slowly got up, feeling the blood running down his back, and began walking unsteadily toward the cabin. He had gone no more than a hundred feet when he grew dizzy, and he felt himself falling. He was able to direct his fall sideways, trying to avoid striking the arrow. A red curtain fell across his eyes, but he couldn’t stop now. He pulled himself to his knees and began to crawl to the cabin.

  Got to get—to the cabin.

  The red curtain was blinding him, and he was conscious only of the terrible pain and the weakness that was draining the life out of him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A Horrifying Injury

  Sabrina put the bowls on the table and went over to the fire, where she tested the meat with a fork, finding it tender. She was making stew, and the odor of the meal filled the cabin. She placed the fresh bread on a plate and covered it with a cloth to keep it warm.

  Going to the window, she scanned the area, but Sion was nowhere in sight. She had gone out twice to call him, but he had not come in nor had he answered her call. She knew his musket was gone and assumed he had gone hunting as he often did late in the afternoon. She poured herself a cup of hot coffee and sat down at the table wondering if she should go ahead and eat without him. Darkness was falling quickly, and the lamp threw its amber glow over the cabin. After peering out the window once more, she sat in the chair Sion had made and covered with a deer hide cushion stuffed with grass. She picked up her book and tried to read but could not concentrate. Ever since the Indians had come to trouble her she had been nervous about being alone, and now she wished Sion would come back. She thought of the quarrel they had had and muttered, “I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. It was none of my business.”

  She tried again to read, forcing herself to move her lips, but the words meant little. Finally she straightened, for she thought she had heard something. “Sion?” she said nervously. She picked her musket off of the pegs and moved cautiously to the door. She opened the door slowly and stepped outside, whispering, “Sion—?” There was no answer for a moment, and then she heard a tiny noise—unmistakably a voice. She moved forward, puzzled, and said, “Who’s there?” She waited again and this time the voice whispered her name.

  Sabrina moved forward in the dark and almost stumbled over Sion. She cried out and laid the rifle down. “Sion, what’s wrong?” He was lying on his side, and when she tried to turn him over, her hand encountered something unrecognizable at first. As she realized what it was, she stifled a scream. Quickly she felt his back and found the shaft and the feathered tip. Cold fear seemed to paralyze her, and she cried out, “Sion! You’ve got to get inside the cabin. Can you walk?”

  “Don’t—think so” came the faint words.

  Using all of her strength and encouraging him to help, Sabrina managed to get him to his hands and knees. “Put your arm around me,” she commanded, and somehow she managed to get him into the cabin. They had gone no farther than just inside the door when he slipped and began to fall. Fearful that he would injure himself worse with the arrow, she caught him and lowered him gently to the floor. The arrow had entered his back high up on the left side and penetrated his entire body. His shirt was soaked with blood. She had no idea what to do, but she knew she had to stop the bleeding. Quickly she ran to the table and grabbed the scissors and cut his shirt off. The sight of the arrow going through his body was terrible, but she saw the blood running from the entrance and the exit wounds and said, “Sion, I’ve got to stop the bleeding.”

  Sabrina could see that Sion was trying to speak, so she put her ear close to his lips and caught the words, “Pull the arrow out.”

  Sabrina had heard Hawk talk about his fight in the Indian wars. She remembered he had told about getting pierced by an arr
ow in the leg once and that Sequatchie had cut off the shaft containing the arrowhead and pulled it out. She knew there was no other way. She ran across the room, picked up her sharpest knife, and began to cut at the arrow just below the head. She knew it must be terribly painful and whispered, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to do it.”

  The shaft of the arrow was slender and cut easily. By the time the head dropped off, her hands were wet with blood. She dried her hands on a cloth and then placed the cloth over the arrow and put her knee on Sion’s back. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the arrow as hard as she could and gave a pull. The arrow came out much easier than she had expected, and she fell over backward. Scrambling to her feet, she reached under her dress to rip one of her petticoats. Tearing it into strips, then folding it quickly, she put a wad over the exit wound in front and another one on the wound at the back, both of which were bleeding freely. She held the bandages in place, wondering how to bind them. Finally she released the bloody wads long enough to tear several more strips of fabric. Working as fast as she could, she fastened long strips of fabric tightly around Sion’s chest, then stuffed fresh pads of fabric under the strips to cover the wounds both front and back.

  When they were firmly in place, Sabrina said, “Sion, you’ve got to get into the bed.” She leaned over and saw that his face was paler than she had ever seen it. His eyes were closed, and when she placed her hand on his throat, she had difficulty finding his pulse. She knew she could not lift him into the bed, so she pulled the blankets off the bed and tried to make him comfortable on the dirt floor. She sat beside him and pulled his head and shoulders into her lap. Holding his limp body as she would a child, she rocked back and forth and began to pray. “God, don’t let him die—please don’t let him die!”

  ****

  When Hannah slipped off her horse the next morning, she saw that the door was open. It was very early, barely half an hour after sunrise, and she had ridden over to get Sabrina to go into town with her. She tied her horse to an oak tree and stepped inside. “Sabrina, where—” She stopped abruptly, for there on the floor before her she saw Sabrina sitting beside a sleeping Sion. She took in the blood-stained bandages and with a cry she fell on her knees. “Sabrina, what happened?”

  “It was an arrow. I pulled it out and got the bleeding stopped, but I can’t move him. I’m afraid he’s going to die.”

  Hannah quickly felt for Sion’s pulse and looked at the wounds. “When did this happen?”

  “Last night. I found him on the ground outside the cabin. I was afraid to leave him to go and get help.”

  “We’ve got to get him onto the bed.”

  Hannah waited while Sabrina stood and shook the feeling back into her numb legs, and then they worked together to drag Sion, who was totally limp, over to the bed. They eased him into it as carefully as they could.

  “I’ve got to see how these wounds are,” said Hannah as she began to remove the blood-soaked bandages. Sabrina, without a word, began to tear up her only other petticoat.

  Hannah gently pulled the dried bandage from Sion’s chest and examined the wound. It was clean but still bleeding slightly. She pressed the bandage back on his chest while checking his back. The back wound seemed to be bleeding slightly also. Sabrina placed the new bandages she had just folded firmly under the strips of fabric that were still encircling Sion’s chest.

  “We’ve got to make him drink something,” said Hannah. “He’s lost so much blood that he’s probably dried out.”

  “He can’t drink if he’s unconscious.”

  “We’ll have to try to wake him up.”

  The two women managed to pull Sion into a sitting position, and Hannah held a cup of water. She dribbled a few drops into Sion’s partially open mouth, and he closed his lips.

  “Sion, you’ve got to drink something,” Hannah urged.

  For some time it seemed hopeless, and then Sion coughed and opened his eyes, staring blankly out of them.

  “Sion, try to swallow. You’ve got to drink all you can.”

  With much effort, the two women managed to get a cup of water down Sion, though he still stared at them with unseeing eyes.

  “He feels like he’s got a fever,” Hannah said. “That often happens with a bad wound.”

  “We need to go get help.”

  “There’s no doctor, but Dad could help him. He’s good with wounds.”

  “Go get him.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be all right. Go get help.”

  Hannah said, “He’s lost a lot of blood, but I think he’ll live.”

  “He’s got to live. He can’t die,” Sabrina whispered.

  Hannah left the cabin at once and spoke sharply to her horse. “Get up, Lady!” She drove the horse at a dead run out of the yard and kept the mare at that pace until she came to her own home. She saw her father out chopping wood and yelled, “Father, Sion’s been shot by an arrow. He’s in Sabrina’s cabin.” She watched as Hawk, without even a reply, ran for his horse, piled onto it, and drove out furiously. “He’s got to be all right,” Hannah said. “He can’t die.”

  ****

  Sabrina had lost track of the hours and had slept only in fitful stretches, but she knew it was the third day since Sion had been shot. Hawk had stayed the entire time and even now was outside the cabin attending to the horses. Hannah had gone home after taking her turn nursing, and now Sabrina sat beside the wounded man. She put her hand on his head and found it burning. The fever had come and gone over these last three days. When Hawk had first come they had stripped off Sion’s outer clothing. Now Sabrina dipped a cloth into a bucket of cool water. She wrung it out and put it over his chest and then did the same for his lower body. Now she leaned forward and stared at Sion’s face. His cheeks were sunken, and the fever had brought red marks to his cheeks. Otherwise he was as pale as he had been when she first found him. Sabrina had made a thin broth, and during his brief periods of consciousness had almost force-fed him.

  “He’s got to eat. It’ll build the blood back,” Hawk had said.

  For a time Sabrina sat there filled with weariness. These last three days had been the hardest time of her life, and as she sat for hour after hour beside the wounded man, she found herself filled with hopelessness and doubts. He was so pale and weak. He had always been so strong, and now his strong body was useless to him.

  She sat there in the quiet room watching Ulysses stretch and cross the room to jump up on the bed. “Go away, Ulysses,” she whispered. She waited until the cat had strode across the room and curled up in front of the fireplace, then removed the wet cloths from Sion, noting how his body had heated them up. She dipped the cloths in the cool water and placed them on Sion again. There wasn’t much else she could do for him except pray, which had quickly become a habit. She had never been a woman of prayer, but the words came to her even so. “Oh, God, don’t let him die!”

  ———

  The darkness seemed endless, and Sion felt as though he had been buried in some deep hole filled with a heat that was unimaginable. From time to time he would come to the surface of the dark hole and feel a coolness. He knew there were hands touching him, and once he had reached out and touched something soft and yielding. He thought he heard his name being whispered, but then he had sunk back down into the darkness again.

  But now this was different; the darkness seemed to be gone. Sion opened his eyes and saw sunlight streaming through the window. A shadow was beside him, and he turned to see Sabrina. Her face was pale and her eyes were closed. He whispered her name and her eyes instantly flew open and her hands went to his face.

  “Sion, you’re awake!”

  “Aye.” Her hands were cool on his face, and he moved his head restlessly. “What’s happened?” he murmured, and confusion filled his mind.

  “You were wounded. You were shot by an arrow.”

  Sion suddenly remembered the pain and crawling back to the cabin. He looked down to see that he was wearing only hi
s undergarments and his chest was bare except for a bandage on the upper part. “I’ve had a fever, haven’t I?”

  “You nearly died,” Sabrina said. “Can you sit up and drink some water?”

  “Aye.” Sion felt her arm behind his back pulling him up to a sitting position. “How long have I been here?”

  “Nearly three days. We’ve been forcing you to eat. Are you hungry now?”

  “Aye,” Sion said. “I am.”

  “I’ll get you something.”

  Sion watched as Sabrina got up and went across the room. She came back quickly with a bowl of grits and said, “Eat all you can of this.”

  Sion suddenly realized he was ravenous. He took the bowl and ate until the grits were all gone. “That was good,” he said. He handed the bowl back and then took the water she handed him and drank thirstily.

  “I don’t remember getting here.”

  Sabrina bent over him and wiped his face with a damp cloth. “You crawled back to the door.”

  “But the arrow. It was all the way through me. I remember that. Who took it out?”

  “I did.”

  “You did!” Sion stared at her. “How did you do that?”

  “I cut the head off and pulled it out, and then I put some bandages on you to stop the bleeding.”

  “How did you get me into bed?”

  “Hannah came by the next morning. The two of us have been nursing you, and Hawk, too. He’s outside somewhere. I’d better go tell him you’re all right.”

  He reached out and took her hand, and when she stopped, he fixed his eyes on her. “I feel so weak,” he said, “but I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

  “I’m glad I was here to help, Sion.”

  He released her then and lay back, feeling weak. He heard her calling Hawk’s name, and then he went to sleep again.

  ———

  When Sion awakened, he heard voices, and he quickly opened his eyes. He saw Fox standing over him on one side and Hannah on the other. Then his eyes went across the room, and he saw Sabrina. “Hello, Fox,” he said.

  Fox looked down at him and said, “Well, you’re going to live after all.”