by Unknown
"If you hit her, you'll have to come through me," he muttered through clenched teeth.
A murmur of voices rippled through the other side, most speaking loud enough for Radigan to hear that they agreed with Blair about what she said concerning his daughter. Then the other side began muttering words like "half-breed" and "red savages."
Suddenly, a shot rang out and the crowd became silent. Warren slowly lowered his rifle. "Collin, Samuel, take Coy to the hotel. Blair, you go, too. I’ll be along in a few minutes." He took a deep breath and looked around at the crowd, slowly, as if memorizing each face. "I’ve lived here near Doughtery since I was a small boy, and I would have never believed what I've seen or heard tonight. To all of you who have stood behind us, you'll never know how much my family and I appreciate it."
A woman spoke up, "You don't know how much we appreciated it when Coy drove that steer over to our place when Sam broke his leg. And if the truth was known, you Townsends have probably helped almost everybody here at one time or another."
"Thank you for your kind words, ma'am." Warren turned to leave, then he stopped short and stared hard at a man. "Bill Harper, are you standing with them?"
"I reckon I am, Warren."
"Did Radigan speak for you?"
"Not the part about fat Kate. I think most people here agree with your sister about her."
Warren waved that remark aside. "Radigan's daughter isn't important. What about the other things he said? Do you agree with them?"
"Well ... yes, I do. To be truthful about it, you'll never know how much it galled me to ask Indians for a permit to settle on land that should be free for the taking."
"You’ve felt like this for all these years?"
"Yes, I have."
Warren stared at him hard while gnawing on his bottom lip as if waging a mental debate. Finally, he spoke, "Could I speak to you alone for a minute?"
"No, I’d rather not. Anything you want to talk to me about . . . you can say in front of everybody."
Warren shrugged. "Have it your way. It's a shame we didn't know how you felt about Indians a couple of years ago when your wife was sick and needed to see that doctor in St. Louis. I don't recall you having any reluctance about Indians when you came to me for money after the bank refused to loan you any."
Bill paled. "I didn't borrow any money from your brothers, I borrowed it from you. And, I might add, that's a mighty cheap shot you're taking at me, Warren. I never expected a man like
you deliberately trying to shame a fellow."
"It isn't deliberate," he replied curtly "I asked to speak to you alone, but you refused. Now, about this money you owe me and my brothers . . . and you did borrow it from them as much as you did me. Everybody knows we are partners in the Bar 4. All profits are split equally, and profit is what you were loaned. Since Radigan spoke for you, I’m sure my brothers won't object if I speak for them. I can wait on what you owe me, but Samuel, Collin, and Coy are calling your debt in. They'll expect it by the end of the week."
Bill's face paled. "I can't have it by then."
"Then raise it."
"I can't, not at this time of the year."
"Then I guess it will be up to them to decide whether or not to go to the Indian Council and formally request that your land permit be revoked."
"The Council can't do that. My permit is paid for two more years."
"Go home and read clause eighteen, then either raise the money you owe my brothers or start packing."
Warren slowly looked at the people who sided against him and his family. "I'm giving all of you fair warning right now. I'll go through my books and see who I owe money to and you will be promptly paid. If you owe me, I want it within the week. I won't soil your house and I don't expect you to soil mine. None of you are welcome at the Bar 4. I will give the order to our ranch hands to shoot anybody trespassing unless they have legitimate business. As you all know, cattle know no boundaries; I won't prevent anyone from rounding up their strays, but I will expect the same courtesy." With that, Warren straightened his shoulders and walked away without once looking back.
The crowd was strangely quiet as Adam waited until Warren was out of sight before he spoke, "Folks, I realize this dance is a traditional event, and you look forward to it every year. Those of you who want to go back inside and continue on with the festivities, please do so now, but leave what has happened here tonight outside. Those of you who want to stand out here and argue over who is right and who is wrong . . . don't. Go on home and cool off, and give yourselves a chance to think about what has occurred. One man could be seriously injured, and friendships that have lasted for years have been destroyed. It seems to me that is enough damage for one night."
Chapter 21
Adam waited at least an hour until the explosive situation at the stockade appeared calm and secure enough for him to go to the hotel.
Virtually everybody had lost interest in the dance, but very few people went home. Most of them gathered around and clustered into small groups to discuss what had happened. And, as in most instances whenever opinions differed, there had been outbursts of temper and even a little bickering between the groups, but not nearly as much as Adam had thought there would be. Those people were quickly calmed by more rational-thinking friends and acquaintances.
Sadness hung in the air like a cloying mist. It was as if the majority sensed their town had almost been ripped apart and one wrong move or word could sever it completely. But, there also seemed to be a feeling that if the wound was properly bandaged and treated meticulously, it might eventually heal. However, it would take time—time and patience.
Worry made Adam hurry toward the hotel. He was not only concerned about Coy's condition, but was uneasy about Blair and her brothers as well; they probably felt as though they had been leveled by a double-barreled shotgun. It had to be devastating for their brother to be severely beaten, and for people they had known for years to turn on them the way they had.
"What room are the Townsends in?" Adam asked the desk clerk as he entered the hotel lobby, never breaking his stride.
"Across from your room." The man obstinately crossed his arms. "It was the only one I had empty, and if you have any complaints, you can move to the livery or wherever you want, because I’m not about to turn them . . ."
"Rest easy," Adam quickly reassured him. "They are my friends, too. Is the doctor with Coy, or is . . ."
"Nope, the doc came, but that little gal ran him off quicker than you can say, ‘scat.’ And Deputy, just a word of friendly advice: if you want to keep your head attached to your shoulders," he yelled around the comer as Adam walked right by him and straight down the hall, "you had better knock first if you intend to go in there."
Adam rapped on the door at the same time he identified himself. "Warren, open up. It's me, Adam."
The door immediately opened and Warren, holding a rifle—though it was not aimed—stepped aside to let Adam enter. Blair sat on the side of the bed, bathing Coy's wounds while Samuel and Collin stood on either side at the head of the bed holding lamps, and two women, who he assumed were their wives, held lamps at the foot of the bed.
His gaze met Blair's for a moment and he knew the misery so evident in her eyes would haunt him for a long time to come. He tore his gaze from hers and turned to Warren.
"How is he?" Adam quickly searched his friend's face to see how this had affected him, not just Coy's beating, but the entire situation. But Warren's features were immobile.
Instead of answering, Warren gestured toward the bed and Adam winced when Blair moved aside so that he could see Coy. His eyes were black and had already swollen shut; it was obvious his nose was broken, his lips were swollen to twice their normal size, and there were numerous cuts and lacerations on his face. His abdomen, ribs, and upper chest were badly bruised and there were deep cuts below his breastbone and on his stomach. He had never seen anyone beaten so badl
y with just mere fists. The man had to have had a weapon.
Frowning, Adam glanced at Warren. "Brass knuckles?" He referred to a set of metal finger rings that were attached and worn over the knuckles to deliberately inflict as much damage as possible.
"Yeah, he said grimly, "you can still see their marks but the bruises are starting to cover them."
Adam's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Makes a man think the fight didn't just happen; instead, it makes one think that it must have been planned."
"Damn right it was planned." Warren's expression was like a mask of stone. "I'll tell you this as a friend and later, if you have reason to become involved because you are a lawman . . . that's just how it will have to be. My brothers and I have discussed this, and if we see those men, they will be in far worse shape than Coy, but it will damn sure be after we find out who hired them to do it."
Adam thought about what he said for a moment, then he spoke in a voice that was devoid of any harshness, "Warren, when I pinned on this badge, I swore to uphold the law. I never took on the responsibilities of being judge and jury, too. But I also believe in justice. Just make sure you have witnesses, and for all of our sakes don’t kill them ... I couldn't turn my head to that."
He walked over to the bed and gently touched Blair on her shoulder. He knew how much she loved Coy, and how close they always were. God, she must be suffering to see him this way. "How is he?" Adam asked softly.
Fear, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes as tears filled them. "God help him, I —I don't know. All of those bruises on his chest and abdomen are not good signs . . . he's probably bleeding inside. I know what medicines to use, but it all depends on how badly he is hurt."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and soothe away her pain. It did not matter that her brothers and sisters-in-law were present, but he sensed one word, one gesture, or a show of too much sympathy, and her iron will would dissolve and she would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.
"No, nothing. Samuel, Hannah, and Warren were about to go after my medicine bag . . ." Coy moaned suddenly and Blair turned her attention to him.
Warren continued where Blair left off. "We've been talking, and we have decided the family shouldn't take any unnecessary chances. With feelings running so high against us, Collin and Grace will stay here where he can guard Coy, while Samuel and I will take Hannah to my house; it should be safer because their place is too isolated. Grace’s father owns a small saddle shop here, so she will stay with them and relieve Blair periodically. Until the situation calms down and we have a chance to see where we stand, we’ve decided no one should be left alone, and the hands need to be aware of what has happened. And we'll need to find out which men are willing to stay on if it comes to a shooting war." Noticing the abrupt change in Adam's expression, he added, "We won't start it, Adam; someone else will have to fire the first shot. And for now it's just a precaution, but since you are a lawman you should know we damn sure intend to be prepared. I'm telling you this because you are our friend."
"I appreciate it, Warren, and I can't say that I blame you for taking precautions. It might help you all to know after you left the dance there was no trouble, and in my opinion, many of the people who first sided with Radigan are now having second thoughts."
He shrugged. I'm glad there was not any more trouble, but I really don't care if some have second thoughts or not. The damage has been done and the fact remains that no one raised a hand to help Coy."
Samuel spoke up, his voice bitter, "Any second thoughts probably stem from fear of losing their land permits."
There was a bitter edge of cynicism in Blair's voice, "Warren, can't this be discussed later? Coy needs medicine now!"
"You're right. Sis," he replied quickly. "Do you have that list made yet?"
Her thoughts obviously muddled, Blair rubbed her forehead, then her temples. "Yes ... I hope I have everything written down. I'm not t-thinking too clearly right now."
"Read it aloud," Adam urged. "I find that helps sometimes."
"That's a good idea." She started reading from her list. "I'll need, seeds of St. John's Wort if he starts spitting or vomiting blood. Hyssop, for inflammations. Dandelion for obstructions of the liver and gall, and it will also help if his kidneys have been bruised. Comfrey is always good for any internal injuries. The root of Five Fingers for swelling. I'll also need vinegar, white wine, extra bottles, my mortar and pestle, extra measuring vials, and plenty of bandages." She glanced up. "I know I've forgotten something . . ."
When no one said anything, Adam suggested, "Coy may need laudanum for pain when he regains consciousness."
"You're right." She sighed miserably. "I knew I wasn't thinking clearly."
"It's little wonder that any of you can even think at all after what's happened tonight." Adam looked at the men. "Collin, since the town is quiet, if you want to get your wife settled in at her folk's and maybe catch a few hours sleep, I'll be happy to stay here and stand guard."
"No, that's all right, I'll ..."
Warren interrupted. "Collin, maybe you should consider it. Remember Grace's condition. She will need her rest and there's no need in both of them sitting up tonight."
"Condition?" Curiously, Blair's eyebrows raised.
Grace blushed and lowered her head shyly as
Collin's mouth vaguely imitated a smile. "We're going to have a child," he said. "We planned to tell all of you tomorrow during Sunday dinner. But, I guess now is as good a time as any."
"Oh, Grace, Collin, congratulations," Blair murmured softly. There was so much more she wanted to say, but nothing seemed appropriate under these grievous circumstances. Then her eyes narrowed questioningly. "Grace, you shouldn't sit with Coy, especially so early in your pregnancy. I know from experience how exhausting it is to sit by someone's sickbed."
Collin and Grace exchanged glances.
"I know it is tiring, but it isn't strenuous," she said helplessly, "besides, you cannot do it alone and Coy will have to have constant care for awhile."
Collin spoke reluctantly, "Actually, Grace staying here is the lesser of two evils. We'll have to hire more hands for the ranch, and Tillie is getting too old to handle the extra work involved, so Hannah is going to help her."
Blair placed her hands akimbo and her expression defied anyone to argue with her. "Well, you all should have consulted me before all of these plans were made."
"You were right here in the room when we were talking," Collin protested.
"Maybe so, but I wasn't paying any attention. At any rate, it will be several days before I would even feel comfortable leaving Coy under someone else's care —and that is no affront to you, Grace— so you might as well go on with them to the ranch, or to your folk's house, it doesn't matter. I'll simply instruct the man at the desk to move a cot in so that I can catch a nap whenever I can."
She impatiently patted her foot against the floor. "And I suppose we can stand here and bicker among ourselves until the world comes to an end, but Coy will not get any better until I can get some medicine inside him . . . and I cannot do that with it out at the ranch. So go on now, all of you! If I need something before you return, I’ll get Adam to leave one of his guns with me and send him after it."
"She's right, Collin," Warren stated. "All Town-send blood has to be considered. Little Collin Warren is a very important person, even though he hasn't joined us yet."
Later, Adam sat in the room's only easy chair watching Blair while she kept her vigil by Coy's bedside. He had tried to get her to relax in the big comfortable chair, but Coy had been restless and she refused to move from his side until he became quiet.
Only one lamp was lit and the soft flickering light cast shadows on the walls that were somehow unsettling and they gave Adam a sense of eeriness that was difficult to shake off. He was filled with an overwhelming feeling that the trouble was far from over, that
the worst was yet to come, and their lives would be changed drastically because of it.
Suddenly, hearing a slight noise outside, Adam stood, motioned for Blair to be silent, then drew his gun and moved quietly to the window where he barely parted the curtains with the gun barrel. Peering outside, he carefully studied the street, the buildings, and the shadows, but saw nothing except a cat darting into an alley and an overturned bucket on the walkway. Even then, he waited a while longer in case the cat had been an attempt to draw his attention so that he would think nothing was amiss.
Finally, satisfied that it was all clear, Adam holstered his gun and returned to his chair. Although he felt as tense as a tightly coiled spring, he leaned back and leisurely stretched out his long legs. It was his way of making Blair feel less frightened and more at ease.
"What was it? Or . . . was it a who?" she asked, her voice laced with bitterness. She was too disturbed to rationalize if there had been a dangerous threat outside, Adam would not have moved from the window and relaxed in the chair.
"It was just a cat."
Standing, Blair nervously rubbed her arms while she paced restlessly about the room. "After what happened tonight, I could visualize the entire town gathering with hot tar and feathers." She laughed caustically. "That would be the perfect way to end the most imperfect night of our lives!" Although she desperately tried to prevent it, a sob caught in her throat.
"Blair, sweetheart . . ," Adam rose and started toward her, but she shook her head and backed away.
"No, Adam . . . please . . ." Suddenly, the brave front that she had being trying so hard to display, completely crumbled. She turned aside, buried her face into her hands. Sobs came, hoarse, ugly sounds that reflected only part of her misery
Adam pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. It was the only way he knew to comfort her, yet, he felt a simple embrace was not enough. "Go ahead and cry, sweetheart," he murmured tenderly, "It will make you feel better . . ."