“If you’re gonna do it, do it. But, I don’t think you have it—”
I pulled the trigger. Black lunged forward and fell to the ground, face-first.
“No!” Beau yelled.
Arm quivering, I lowered the gun. Blood flowed from Cotter Black’s head and soaked into the red dirt. Beau ran to his father and dropped to his knees.
Anna came to me and put her arms around me, squeezing me. “Thank you,” she said, her voice cracking. I stared in disbelief at Cotter Black’s dead body, my arms too heavy to lift.
Beau looked up at me in shock, revulsion, and anger. “How could you do that?”
Anna released me, but kept an arm around my waist. “Bastard deserved to die,” she said.
I turned away and went to Kindle. I placed his head in my lap and felt for injuries. A knot was forming at the base of his skull, the same spot where his brother had hit him at Antietam nine years earlier. I brushed his hair away from his face and waited for him to wake.
Anna came to me, carrying Black’s canteen. She tore a strip of cloth from my skirt and soaked it in water. I bathed Kindle’s face with it. He slowly came around. A buzzard screeched overhead, eager to start his next meal. Kindle’s eyes roamed around in confusion until finally settling on me.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. The humiliation of what I had been through, the choices I’d made, was too great. I blotted the blood from his face. Gently, Kindle stayed my hand.
“Catherine.” His voice was hoarse and raw with emotion. He reached up and turned my face toward his, forcing me to look in his eyes. There I discovered the same kindness as when he had comforted me in the middle of a thunderstorm a lifetime ago. With my broken, bandaged fingers I traced his scar and smiled.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
We rode hard for four days, pushing our horses and ourselves to the limit, to reach the safety of Jacksboro.
Little was said. Questions flooded my brain but I couldn’t speak to ask them. Neither Kindle nor Beau had paper or pencil and my gestures were more confusing than illuminating.
Kindle tended to my injuries as best he could with no medicine and I did the same with his. His shoulder and thigh wounds were inflamed, his ribs broken, and I suspected his head ached chronically, as did mine. Waves of nausea and dizziness overtook me without warning, making it difficult to keep my seat on my horse. When I vomited nothing came up but bile. I couldn’t remember the last meal I had, though the thought of eating made me ill.
Sleep, during our brief nighttime camps, was impossible. One night, when I closed my eyes, I saw Indians standing on the bank of a river, watching, and eagerly waiting their turn, felt their weight pressing me into the hard ground. Smelled their rancid breath, heard their rhythmic grunts, and their cries of release. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, shook me. I screamed and thrashed against them. I opened my eyes and saw Cotter Black looming over me, hands outstretched.
“Please, no! Not again!” I scuttled away, my heart gripped in a vise of fear, sobbing.
“Catherine. It’s me.” Kindle’s confusion turned to despair. He looked at his outstretched hands in wonder, balled them into fists, straightened, and walked away. Anna moved to sit next to me, pulled me to her, and let me cry quietly on her shoulder.
I didn’t see Kindle again that night. He didn’t try to touch me again. The brief moment of happiness we had shared in the canyon, where forgiveness reigned and a happy future was possible, vanished.
Beau was despondent and distracted, no doubt thinking of the wreck his father had become. Anna was composed, her eyes firmly fixed on the horizon. She was attentive to me, speaking occasionally about nature around us, but she spoke to the men only if they spoke to her first. Kindle stayed within himself, speaking rarely and only about our journey. He, too, kept his eyes on the horizon. When Kindle caught me watching him he would smile, but it never reached his eyes. I longed to recapture the connection we shared in the canyon, to apologize for mistaking him for his brother upon waking. From the safety of my horse, I held my uninjured hand out to him. He took it, squeezed it gently, and held on. I stared at our joined hands and felt hollowness where happiness should have been. I wondered how long it would take for me to experience more than this, wondered how long he would wait.
* * *
We arrived in Jacksboro under the bright glow of a Comanche moon. Rows of canvas tents ringed the outer edge of town. Despite the late hour, men roamed the streets. Piano music, laughter, and the occasional angry shout could be heard in the saloons. Kindle guided us to a back street.
“There’s so many people,” Anna said.
“Mackenzie is bringing Satanta and Big Tree here for a civil trial,” Beau said.
“The crowd will only grow,” Kindle said.
We dismounted behind a dark house. I took one step and collapsed from sleeplessness, hunger, and exhaustion. Kindle scooped me into his arms. My head settled comfortably in the crook between his shoulder and neck. Beneath the smell of dirt, blood, and horse sweat was the faint musk that was uniquely Kindle. I wrapped my arms around his neck, closed my eyes, and quietly sobbed. He carried me up the steps and kicked the door four times to knock.
“Shhh,” he said. “You’re safe now.”
I nodded. The pull of sleep beckoned me for the first time in weeks. The door opened. Stephen and Edna Carter stood in the doorway in their nightclothes. Stephen held a double-barreled shotgun. Edna held a lamp.
“Captain Kindle! What on earth…”
“Shut up, Stephen.” Edna moved in front of her dumbfounded husband and pulled us in the house. “Quick,” she said. Anna and Beau followed and the Carters closed the door.
“Through here,” Edna said.
Kindle lay me on a feather bed still warm from the Carters’ bodies. I tried to get up, to refuse taking their bed. Edna would have none of it.
“Captain,” Edna ordered.
Kindle gently pushed me back down. “Lie down.”
“Why isn’t she talking?” Stephen Carter asked.
Anna motioned to her throat. “Her neck was injured. She hasn’t been able to speak in days.”
Stephen was horrified. Edna paused what she was doing before pulling herself together and getting on with it.
“Stephen, boil some water and bring some towels. And put that gun away before you shoot somebody.”
Stephen looked at the gun, and seemed surprised to find it in his hand. He broke the barrel and walked across the hall to boil the water.
“I’m going to send for Dr. Kline,” Kindle said. I grasped his hand. He was not going to leave me again. I mouthed, “Don’t leave.”
Edna sat on other side of the bed, and with only a slight hesitation, took my injured hand. “Dr. Elliston,” she said in a gentle voice. “Let us help you.”
That everyone thought I needed help rankled. I was the one who took care of people. If someone would get my medical bag, I could evaluate and treat myself.
I sank back against the pillow when I realized I had no medical instruments. Black hadn’t taken my medical bag from the wreckage, nor the letter from Sherman. We found only the purple velvet bag holding my mother’s necklace in Black’s saddlebags, proof his promises of a new life were lies.
Edna patted my hand. “I know you don’t want help but you’re going to get it. No arguments. Now, the men need to leave the room soon so I can get you cleaned up.” She looked at Anna. “You can get cleaned up as well. What is your name?”
“Anna Warren.”
“Are you? Well, two miracles in one night. You look fitter than Dr. Elliston. Are you injured?”
“No.”
“Good. You can help me.” Anna glanced at me and followed Edna out of the room. She passed Beau at the door. Beau entered the room, dropped our saddlebags on the floor, and stood in the corner, looking uncomfortable. Edna called him from the other room. Beau left.
We were alone. Kindle sat on the edge of the bed and stroked my hand. I closed my eyes a
nd tried to imagine I was lying in our bed, waiting for him to take me in his arms. Instead, I saw us standing on opposite sides of Palo Duro canyon, neither making a move to cross for the other.
“Catherine,” he said.
I opened my eyes. I wanted to leave every vestige of my ordeal behind. I struggled but managed to speak for the first time. “Call me Laura.”
Kindle nodded and smiled. “Catherine is a beautiful name, but I fell in love with Laura Elliston.”
I rubbed my throat and wished for laudanum. “Shh. Don’t talk,” Kindle said. He looked at our joined hands. “Laura, when I return to the fort, I’ll be arrested.”
I sat up.
“When Franklin told me my brother had you and wanted me to come alone, I didn’t hesitate. We left immediately. I’m considered a deserter. As is Beau. I tried to get him to go back but he would not.”
“Why did we come back?”
“You need medical attention.”
“Let’s leave. Now.”
“No.”
It was physically impossible for me to argue with him. There was too much to say. Godammit, I thought.
“Why?”
“I have to face the consequences of my actions.”
It sounded so noble, so gentlemanlike on the surface. It was a sentiment I would have admired in another life, in other circumstances. His integrity, his inherent goodness when dealing with his Negro soldiers, was one of the qualities I most admired. Now, though, I saw his eagerness to be away from me, to not hear my pitiful attempts at speaking, to banish from his sight my battered body, the constant reminder of the Indians’ and his brother’s abuse of me and his complicity. I also saw the same determination that pulled him through his injuries and got him back in the saddle in a week. The same determination that won my heart. I knew it was useless to argue with him and, frankly, I didn’t have the energy. Part of me wanted to be away from him, to have time to heal and think without the weight of his guilt pressing against me.
“What will happen to you?”
“A court-martial and dishonorable discharge.”
I covered my face with my hands. Black’s revenge was almost complete. How could Kindle’s regard for me survive each of these blows?
“It doesn’t matter. I was retiring anyway.” He removed my hands from my face and looked me in the eyes for the first time in days. “I would do it again. Without hesitation.”
His eyes didn’t deliver the same message. They were empty, devoid of tenderness, love or hate. Weary resignation and disappointment covered him like a shroud.
Edna, Anna, and Beau returned, the former carrying a tub, a washcloth, and soap, the latter two pails full of water. Edna placed the tub in the corner. Anna poured the water in the tub and left for more.
“Captain, time to leave. Stephen has gone to fetch Kline.”
Kindle stood, still holding my hands. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. His lips lingered. His hand cupped my face and he moved his lips to my ear.
“We’ll get our happy ending, Laura. I need you to believe that.” There it was, the spark of emotion that had been missing for days. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
I nodded.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Good.” He kissed my damaged fingers, folded my hands over my stomach, and left.
* * *
I slept. When I woke, Ezra sat in a chair by my bed, his chin resting on his chest, snoring. I tapped his knee and he woke with a jerk.
He smiled. “Good morning,” he said. “Or is it afternoon. I am not entirely sure.”
I shrugged.
“Can you try to say something for me?”
Yes, but I didn’t want to speak with anyone or, indeed, have anyone speak to me. I enjoyed the silence. “Och,” I said. I covered my throat protectively and shook my head.
He nodded and took my hand. “Do you remember much about the first night here?”
I shook my head no.
“I didn’t think you would. I gave you a large dose of laudanum. You’ve been asleep for two days. While you were asleep, I rebroke and set your fingers. I am not sure what kind of mobility you will have with them, but it will be better than it would have been. I’ve stitched up your head and wrapped your chest to support your broken ribs. You will be sore for a long while but you’ll heal.”
I nodded.
“I’ve done what I could for you elsewhere. You will bleed for a few more days. However, I’m not sure you will ever bleed again.” He cleared his throat and focused on my eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded. I sat up and motioned for the chamber pot. Ezra held it while I vomited. I collapsed back onto the pillow. Ezra placed the bedpan beside his chair and grasped my hand.
“Did you tell Kindle?” I croaked.
“No.”
“Don’t.”
He cleared his throat again. “Now, for the bad news. After you were abducted, Henry Pope miraculously recovered and wrote an article about who you are. How you manipulated him into keeping quiet, how Cotter Black beat him to do the same. Edna and Stephen tried to keep it quiet you were here, but when Kindle turned himself in…” Ezra paused. “There is a guard posted outside your door. A New York detective is on his way to escort you back for trial.”
I shrugged.
“Don’t worry. I’ve telegraphed James. We’ll get you the best lawyer money can buy.”
I smiled, patted his hand, and turned my head away. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep. Minutes passed. Finally, Ezra left.
* * *
Thankfully, Ezra kept me stocked with laudanum, which, based on my expertise as a doctor, I deemed it necessary to continually flow through my veins. I stayed in an opiate haze for the next few days, making the stream of welcome and unwelcome visitors much easier to meet.
Alice Strong, in full mourning, was the first. I was abashed at not having thought of Lieutenant Strong’s fate. Alice told me succinctly: the entire company had been massacred.
“Twelve men murdered for one man’s revenge. The guard outside isn’t to protect you from the bounty hunters. It is to protect you from the grieving wives and friends of the dead. They blame you, you see.”
In a hand shaking from opium and bandaged with broken fingers, I wrote in a notebook provided by Edna, Do you?
“If it wasn’t for Beau, I would. He’s told me the full story.”
And Beau?
“He will return to the family farm in Maryland. Captain Kindle swore he’d ordered Beau to go with him so Beau was able to resign his commission. He is as anxious to leave Texas as I am.”
I nodded.
“The girl, the laundress?” Alice said.
I nodded.
“She’s dead.”
My breath caught.
“She died a day or two after you were taken. A customer abused her horribly and left her for dead. The women swear it was Cotter Black, but since no one knew precisely who he was or what he looked like, we will never know for sure.”
When I fucked her, I thought of Catherine.
One more person whose life I ruined, whose death I was responsible for.
I motioned frantically for the chamber pot. Alice handed it to me and looked away while I was sick.
I lay back on the pillow with my eyes closed, taking deep breaths.
“I apologize,” Alice said. She was red with embarrassment. “It was a thoughtless thing to mention.”
I waved my hand in dismissal and dropped it heavily on the bed. I wished she would leave.
“I’m leaving Texas soon. I will go on a stage after the trial. I want to travel with as many people as possible. Maybe we will be safer that way.”
She stood. “What you asked before, if I blamed you. I did, until the day I realized I was pregnant. I can return to the East a widow with the child of an Army hero and live independently. I never wanted to marry. I did it for my family, and for Wallace. If he would have lived, he would have made me miserable.”
* * *
The house was unnaturally quiet. Stephen and Edna had taken Anna to dinner at the hotel, leaving me alone. My guard was a taciturn, teetotaling sheriff’s deputy who sat in a straight-back wooden chair in the hall next to my door and threw playing cards into his upturned hat. Occasionally, he spat; otherwise he was quiet as a field mouse.
I drifted in and out of a drug-induced sleep, thinking of Kindle, wondering where he was. No one had mentioned him since he walked out the door days ago, nor had he sent word or a note about the progress of his court-martial. Besides Alice and Ezra, none of the people who lined up to bid me a fond farewell visited me now, broken and bruised. I was surprised at how deep it cut that Harriet hadn’t visited. I reached for the bottle of laudanum. My bedside table was empty. I wondered who had taken it, and when.
The deputy walked across the hall. I imagined him picking up his cards from his hat and the floor, with the majority being on the floor. His spurs jingled as he walked up and down the hall to stretch his legs. I heard the faint rustle of cards being shuffled between his hands.
I hovered between sleep and consciousness. The events of the past months ranged in front of me like a gallery of paintings come alive. Blood seeping from Black’s head; Kindle and Black fighting in Palo Duro; men hunched over a makeshift latrine in driving rain; drinking corn mash and laughing with the laundresses around a nighttime fire; the sound of a razor scraping against stubble; Maureen walking toward me, face glowing with happiness; gazing out over a beautiful landscape; talking to Molly Ebling in Galveston; walking down a snowy street in New York City.
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