Tyra's Gambler

by Velda Brotherton

  Doc hurried down the street, high-buttoned black shoes kicking up puffs of dust. He scurried out of the way of four mounted soldiers riding side by side.

  Dang. If she’d hurt that gambler too bad, she’d be unhappy. Hard to get her mind off him. Who was he, and why hadn’t she seen him before? Plenty of poker players drifted into town to find a spot at one of the many card games underway in this crazy damned town. But this one she wouldn’t have forgotten, so he must be new to Hays City. And while she was wondering about stuff, what in thunder was a railroad worker doing with keys to the jail? Crazy damned town. Too bad they wouldn’t let her run the place; this sort of nonsense would come to a halt.

  Being a lawyer, James hated that she hung around Hays City, one of the wildest towns west of the Mississippi, but she craved the excitement and getting involved without worrying about ending up arrested herself, seeing as how there was no one with the authority to do so. Even though the Ellis County marshal wandered through once in a while, no one in Hays City was going to jail the cousin of Lady Rowena, who lived with her husband Lord Blair Prescott in nearby Victoria, the dullest town in Kansas.

  The sun slithered through purple slashes of clouds and blinked out of sight below the horizon, as if it had had enough of all this nonsense. In its wake, brilliant orange light darted across the flat landscape, leaving behind smudges of gray. Shadows of the town’s buildings slinked across the dusty street in her path. Lamps flickered on in windows, especially the dozen or more saloons that would soon fill up with railroad workers, wranglers, travelers, and local bums who could manage to talk someone out of buying them at least one drink.

  Where was James, anyway? He should’ve been back from Wichita several hours ago. Time she went looking. At the livery, she saddled her long-legged black gelding and rode toward the edge of town, chased by the growing darkness.

  Since coming to America she had developed a fondness for riding fast and hard through the windy night, so hot the gates of Hell must be open, and her daring the devil himself to stop her. Weather in Kansas was so different from England and its soggy summers. It was like she could breathe better than ever before. There were two kinds: blistering hot and frigid cold, both accompanied by a constant wind that made all the trees grow slaunchwise.

  She kicked her mount into a trot and was almost past the jail when Doc came running out the door, waving his arms. Reining up, she hung on to the dancing horse that made a full circle before stopping.

  “Better git on in here, gal. I need some help digging that bullet out. It hit bone, and that poor feller has sobered up fast with the pain.”

  “Oh, crap, Doc. I’m not a doctor or even a nurse. Cain’t you get Collins to help you?”

  “He’s useless as tits on a boar hog. Turned white as a sheet when his hands got bloody. Come on in here. You shot this man, least you can do is help me patch him up.”

  With a deep sigh, she slid from the gelding, looped his reins over the hitching post, climbed the steps to the boardwalk, and followed Doc inside. The smell of blood, mixed with the stench of vomit and liquor, flooded her nose, so she stiffened her resolve.

  A flickering lamp sat on a stool next to the cot where the victim of her gunshot sprawled on his back. His face was gray, and dark circles shadowed his closed eyes. Doc’s sleeves were rolled up, his hands dark with blood.

  “Good heavens, Doc.”

  “Wash your hands in that pan, then rip me up some of the sheet from that other bed. Git over here and hold this lamp closer so I can see what I’m doing.”

  She did as he asked, carried strips of sheeting to the bed where her victim lay, and reached for the lamp.

  “Before you fetch that light, tie one of those strips just above his knee and twist your gun barrel into it so it tightens up good. Shut off the blood flow so I can poke around in this unfortunate fellow. Come on, girl. Get a move on. Hold the lamp so the light falls on this bullet hole.”

  Following his directions, she swallowed hard to keep from losing the brews she’d drunk earlier. The ragged black hole in the man’s leg leaked more blood, but then the flow slowed.

  “Dang, Doc, I’m sorry. Just meant to wing him before he killed Barney.”

  “Don’t tell me, tell him.” Doc forced a shiny tool deep into the wound and pulled out a sliver of lead. “Bullet shredded when it hit the bone. It’s gonna hurt like the very devil for quite a spell. Glad he’s passed out.” Back he went to wrestle with another hunk.

  The man on the cot moaned, and one hand pawed air, fingers clamping around her upper arm. The lamp jostled, and she shifted it to the other hand, then laid her palm over his forehead. “Hush now, it’ll be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” She glanced toward Doc. “Ain’t he?” Fearful of his reply, she dropped her gaze to stare at the fancy silver buckle on the man’s belt. Anything to keep from registering the damage she’d done.

  Lead slivers tinkled into the small metal tray on the floor by the bed. “There, I believe that’s the last of it. He’d better hope so. I’ve seen men take an infection and die from one shred left to fester. Put down that lamp and fetch me the bottle out of my bag.”

  She did as he asked, finding only a bottle of whisky hidden among the other remedies in the bag. “This, Doc?” She held it up, and he nodded. Before she gave it over, she pulled the cork out between her teeth and took a healthy slug herself.

  After Doc did the same, he said, “Now, make him a bandage out of a piece of that sheeting, big enough to wrap plumb around his leg.” Without pausing, he poured whisky over the wound. The man on the cot roared and came up off that cot ready to kill.

  Good thing he was weak. She forced him back down with one forearm, holding the lamp out of his reach. “Ssh, now. Hush. Don’t be such a baby. It’s finished. Lay back down.”

  Doc took the lamp so she could rip a strip of cloth and wind it round and round his leg and tie it securely.

  As soon as she had, she grabbed up another piece of material, poured water on it from a pitcher, and wiped the sweating face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but you hadn’t ought to’ve been beating on poor Barney like that.”

  His reply sounded somewhere between a growl and a groan.

  Coming to her feet, feeling somewhat foolish for showing her feelings, she stood over the two. “Is that all? Can I go now? I need to—”

  “I know, you need to ride out to find some more mischief. Get on out of here, gal.”

  She had one foot through the door when Doc said her name. She turned.

  “Good job, fine job.”

  A curt nod and she got the hell out of there. The knot in her throat kept her from replying.

  Leaping onto the waiting horse, she dug in her heels and hollered so the animal galloped out of town, dodging this way and that around slower-moving wagons. Low in the saddle, she rode to meet James Lee, hell-bent for leather toward the sliver of light lingering along the western horizon. Away from the man suffering at her hand. When she thought of him, it was to remember the way those unusual eyes of his gazed at her. She didn’t figure to ever see him again. Didn’t even know his name, but wouldn’t forget him soon. She and James Lee were leaving for Victoria, Texas, in a few days, but in the meantime they would stay with Rowena and Blair at Fairhaven.

  ****

  Rowena’s Diary, March 1877

  Tyra is leaving today, leaving for good this time. The ragged little brat who came here with Wilda and me what seems like years ago has grown into a beautiful, tough, fiery-haired westerner. Now we have to say goodbye to her. My love and I will be left on our own in this castle he built on the Kansas plains. Lord Blair Prescott’s women are finally settled. Wilda out in Colorado with her tamed outlaw Calder and their baby boy, myself in Blair’s arms forever, and now the one who’s given us the most trouble, little Tyra, setting out today with that lawyering fella who believes he’s a cowboy. We’ve all got our doubts.

  This morning we will breakfast together, James Lee and Tyra, Blair and myself, and no doub
t reminisce about all those adventures since my handsome hellion Blair first saw us at St. Anne’s Workhouse and bade us come to America. We will miss Tyra and her entertaining antics, but we have our life stretching out ahead of us, beckoning like a road leading from one exciting exploit to another.

  I must go downstairs now or Simmons will have one of his controlled English fits. He believes he is thoroughly in charge of Lord Blair, his home, and his family.

  ****

  Tyra stuffed her few belongings into a tattered carryall and glanced once more around the room where she’d occasionally lived since arriving in Victoria from England two years earlier. Nothing of her left here, if ever she had been here in the first place. From the beginning her heart had been out there riding the wild Kansas plains, the wind in her face, the land in her spirit.

  The aroma of bacon cooking greeted her when she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Down in the kitchen, voices blended into laughter. Her cousin Rowena, Blair, James Lee and Simmons, Annie and Maggie, the two women who took care of all manner of things in the castle, all engaged in lively banter. Fairhaven had become a fun place to be since Rowena and Blair married. For an instant she regretted having to leave, but then James Lee’s raucous voice floated up to her. Soon they would marry and, with her by his side, fulfill his dream of having a ranch near his family’s holdings, strangely enough close to Victoria, Texas.

  Excitement burst in her like spring prairie blossoms, and she hurried down the stairs. Leaving the carryall in the foyer, she went to join her family for one last time together.

  Blair sat at the head of the table, Rowena on his right, her hand under his on the shiny surface. A true wonderment, their love. How wonderful it would be if she and James Lee could enjoy such closeness. It had changed Blair so much, as had his accident that left him somewhat lame. It didn’t slow either of them down. Their herd of Morgan horses had grown so that ranchers from as far away as Colorado and Texas came to Fairhaven to buy stock or put their mares to stud.

  After greetings all around, Tyra smiled at her husband-to-be and sat next to him on Blair’s left. As always, she would behave herself while in his company. Annie bustled in with a platter, from which she removed the cover to reveal coddled eggs and neat strips of bacon. Beans for the British in them, and biscuits and gravy, adopted from American cooking, were delivered by Maggie. A pot of coffee and a china pitcher of tea sat in the center of the table.

  Food was passed around, coffee and tea poured and stirred with the tinkle of silver against china before conversation picked up again.

  Rowena glanced up from her plate, blue eyes gleaming. “Are you excited about your trip, Tyra?”

  “Of course. Texas sounds like such a big place.”

  James Lee chuckled and gestured with his knife. “Big is too small a word for Texas. One can ride all day on one single ranch and not reach its boundaries.”

  “Oh, my. Is your ranch that large?” Rowena’s expression brought a giggle from Tyra.

  “Not yet, no. But some day it will be. Had to go to Wichita to buy some of those Aberdeen Angus cows your people brought over from England. Seems no one around here would let go of any this season. Going to breed them to longhorns already on the ranch. I hope to increase the herd and buy more land until one day the J Bar T will be that large.”

  This was all news to Tyra. He was not one to share much. He was good-hearted, but she wished he was warmer, wished he would gaze at her like Blair gazed at Rowena, share his hopes and dreams with her. Instead, he’d kept them close to his vest to share here with the family.

  “Have you hired any men to help you?” Blair picked up a strip of bacon and took a healthy bite.

  “Well, I have a friend who lives in Ellis, name of Renner Brown, who has been looking to make a change. Looks as if he’s set to accompany us. Tyra and I work pretty well together, and I don’t think we’ll need anyone else. I only bought cows, you see. They’re easier to drive than steers.” He glanced at her and smiled. “She’s a heck of a cow puncher.”

  Would have been good if he’d told her about this. She kept that to herself and simply smiled back.

  Rowena laid down her fork. “I still wish you two would marry here before you go. I’d so love to attend your wedding.”

  Tyra felt much the same way, but again James was in charge. She had her way, that wouldn’t go on much longer.

  “Then you should come down,” James Lee said, a bit too curtly. “You can take the train from Victoria, Kansas, and in Texas the Great Northern goes to Austin. There you can catch a stage south to Victoria, Texas. Someone could pick you up for the drive out to the ranch. We want to marry in our home. My parents and grandparents and many other family members will be present.”

  Rowena turned to Blair. “Oh, could we?”

  “We’d have to find someone to help care for this place. At any rate, you should go, sweetheart.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Not without you I won’t. We’ll see.” She aimed a tight smile at James Lee, as if a bit displeased with his remark. “Perhaps we can arrange to come, but it sounds like a long and tedious trip.” Her quick glance at Blair signaled she was thinking of him. He had never completely recovered from his accident. His frown was quickly gone, and she went on. “If not, we wish you both the very best.”

  “And in case we can’t come,” Blair added, “our gift to you is out in the corral. A pair of the finest matched Morgans you’ll find anywhere.”

  Tyra scooted her chair back, leaped up, and ran to stand between Blair and Rowena, arms around them both. “Thank you so much! What a wonderful wedding gift.” She leaned down and kissed Blair on the cheek, and he blushed. “I love you, Blair. You too, Rowena. You take care of each other.”

  Her heart ached from regret that she had to leave when she was just getting to like Blair and enjoy Rowena’s company. Wilda had always told her that one day she would grow up and realize how important family was. Perhaps that’s precisely what she was doing when she understood just how much she would miss these two people. She returned to her chair to finish breakfast.

  Even though she and Blair were getting along quite well since he and Rowena married, the generous gift bowled her over. She hadn’t expected such a gesture. During the past year he had changed from brooding and unhappy to a cheerful and thoughtful man. There were still times when he disappeared into the night, riding with the wind, and she never knew why, but Rowena was happy with him, and that’s what counted, after all.

  She glanced at James Lee. Would they be that happy? She shook off a niggling doubt, and put her mind on the upcoming trip.

  Out on the portico, hugs were exchanged all around. Unexpected tears filled Tyra’s eyes while goodbyes were said.

  Rowena and Blair stood side by side, his arm around her waist. “You write when you get settled, and let us know when the wedding is.” Rowena leaned into Blair’s shoulder and wiped tears from her cheeks. Tyra covered her mouth to muffle sobs.

  James Lee took her arm. “We have to go now. Thanks again, Blair. The Morgans are beautiful. Hope you can come down to the wedding.” He guided Tyra away.

  Their saddled horses waited, the two Morgans bridled and tied to a lead rope. They would enjoy the trip to Texas, stretching their long legs and exercising their exquisite bodies. Tyra ran a gloved hand over the gleaming flank of first one and then the other before mounting up. For a long while she watched the castle disappear behind them. Hands held high in a goodbye wave, Rowena and Blair grew smaller and smaller. With a closing throat Tyra turned from that final view of her home.

  “I wish you’d shared your plans for breeding the cattle, building up a ranch. I thought—” She didn’t get a chance to finish.

  “Why? Don’t you want to?” He didn’t bother to look at her.

  A brisk wind caught at her shirt and ran its fingers through her long hair clipped at the nape of her neck. “That’s not my point, James Lee. Of course I want to. It’s just that you never share anything w
ith me. We are to marry, yet you treat me like a hired hand who will do what she is told without asking any questions. A good little wife who will sit quietly at your side.”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of that. As my wife you will of course be helpful, stand behind any decision I make.”

  “Honey, I will. Of course I will. But I would like you to discuss things with me. Let me help you make decisions.”

  “Well, all right. I suppose I can do that.” He still hadn’t spared her a glance.

  She touched her heels to her mount’s flanks and moved closer to him. “You are not marrying a housewife. You’ve known that from the beginning. You are marrying a partner who will work beside you, not wash dishes while you ride herd or mend fences or drag a cow out of a mud hole. I want to be right at your side helping you build this ranch.”

  His silence drove a pain through her. This man had saved Blair’s life, had been right there when Rowena needed him. He was a kind man, a considerate man, and that’s why she loved him. But this side of him was not exactly to her liking. It seemed that once they married she would take a back seat to his dreams.

  He reached out to her, took her hand in his. “I apologize. I’m so accustomed to making my own decisions. I watched my mother step quietly into her dutiful role as a wife. I know better with you. Your rough and rowdy ways are what attracted me to you. I need a strong, opinionated woman who will wade in and help out. Guess I just wasn’t thinking. I’ll try to do better. I love you very much, and I sure don’t want to hurt you. This is a tough life I’m offering, starting with next to nothing but our muscles and our brains. My dad expects me to begin with very little, just like he did.”

  “Oh, James Lee. Don’t you know that’s exactly what I’m looking for? But I want a partner, not a boss.”

  He didn’t reply, and they rode on in silence, once in a while commenting on something along the trail. In Ellis they stopped at The Crooked Mile for a cold beer, where James Lee expected to find Renner. Sure enough, the lanky, shaggy-haired man leaned on the bar, nursing a beer. She had met him a couple of times but knew only that he and James Lee had worked together once or twice. An accomplished horseman and wrangler, he was a quiet man who, when he did say something, was worth listening to. He was a good choice to help herd the cattle to Texas.