Jack said to Hunter, “Granny Tate’s at the ranch. It’d be quicker if we can get Carter out there to her.”
“I can travel,” Carter said.
Hunter hitched the team to the wagon he had used the evening before to transport Miss Alisha and her girls, and he and Hunter lifted Carter to the wagon seat. Jack saddled a couple of horses, and he and Bree rode alongside the wagon. Darby, who had no illusions about being a horseman, jumped into the back of the wagon. Chen stayed behind, as they now had three men in the jail.
“Are you sure he can handle the jail all by himself?” Carter said.
“Oh, yeah,” Darby said, from the back of the wagon.
They had to take the long way around, which meant through the pass and down into the valley. Three miles. Hunter kept the horses to a steady pace. Carter rode with one hand holding the rifle in place, which in turn held the tourniquet tightly.
Carter glanced at Jack and said, “You look like hell, you know.”
“Hey. I just had the fight of my life.”
“You look worse even than when I was done with you.”
“If I remember right, I beat you in that fight.”
“I was drunk.”
Jack had to give him that. “All right. Granted. But let’s not have a rematch. I think I’d rather have you on my side.”
“I guess we can call that a deal.”
Jack looked at Bree and gave a shrug. Who would have thought, two months ago, that he and Harlan Carter would be exchanging good natured jabs at each other, or fighting alongside each other.
Jack said, “Your daughter won’t speak to me.”
“Yeah, I know. Partly my fault.”
“I thought it was all your fault.”
“You didn’t have to fight me. That part was your fault. It just sort of reinforced all the warnings I was giving her about building a life with a gunhawk.”
“That part was your fault, though.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I take the blame for that.”
“Could you talk to her?”
He looked at Jack. “Me? Hell, no. One thing I’ve learned these past few months is I can’t talk to the ladies in my life. They talk to me. They don’t let me talk to them.”
Jack nodded. “Kind of like it is at my house.”
“Hey!” Bree said.
Jack said to Carter, “See what I mean?”
Carter nodded. “Our lot in life.”
They rode along further. Two ridges rose on either side of the trail. Long, gently rounded slopes covered with pine. Then the trail dropped down and past the ridges, and they were into the wide open grassy valley floor.
“Trouble with a gunfight,” Carter said, “my ears are still ringing and all I smell is gun smoke.”
From the back of the buckboard, Darby said, “They don’t mention that in the dime novels. I’ve read a couple of them. All sorts of guns going off. But they don’t mention how loud a gun battle actually is, or what it smells like. Or the screams of the men as they’re dying.”
Jack nodded. “That’s because the writers are sitting behind a desk in some place like New York, rather than being out here where it’s actually happening.”
Carter said, “What’s a dime novel?”
Jack explained it to him.
Carter said, “You gotta be kidding me.”
They could see the ranch house ahead in the distance. Bree said, “I’ll ride ahead and tell Granny we’re coming.”
She kicked her horse into a gallop and covered the distance within minutes.
When Hunter pulled the team to a halt by the front porch, Aunt Ginny was already there to give instructions.
She said, “Bring him in. Set him on the sofa in the parlor.”
Fred was there to help Jack lift Carter off the wagon seat and up the steps.
Aunt Ginny said, “Someone should go and tell his family.”
Hunter nodded. “This team needs a rest. I’ll go saddle a horse and ride down to the farm.”
Jessica hurried down the stairs and threw her arms around Darby and planted a long kiss on him.
She said, “I was so worried.”
“I told you I would be all right.”
Jack and Fred carried Carter into the house. Granny Tate said, “Set him down on the couch boys. Gentle. Be gentle.”
Even so, Carter winced as they set him down. Aunt Ginny had already draped a sheet over it.
Hunter called Jack aside and said, “I’ve seen men with those kinds of wounds. He’s gonna lose that leg.”
Jack nodded gravely. “Maybe.”
Temperance was there. “What can I do?”
Granny said, “I’ll let you know in a minute, child.”
Bree had followed the men in, and was standing her rifle back in its place in the gun rack.
Aunt Ginny said, “You’re okay?”
Bree nodded. Aunt Ginny gave her a hug.
She said, “You had me scared, child.”
“I had to go.”
“I know you did.”
Granny Tate knelt by the sofa and was giving Carter’s leg a thorough examination. Jack stood beside the sofa.
She said, “The bone’s broken, all right. I think the bullet might have splintered.”
Everyone seemed to be gathering about the sofa. Aunt Ginny said, “Come on, everyone. Let’s give Granny some room to work.”
Jack indicated with a nod of his head for Darby to follow him. Jack led him to the end table at the other side of the room and poured a couple glasses of whiskey.
He said, “It’s not Kentucky whiskey, but right now, it’ll do.”
They each knocked it back.
Darby said, “I killed a man today, Jack.”
Jack nodded. “How do you feel about that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just kind of numb all over from the whole thing.”
Jack went out to a horse trough and cleaned up a little from his fight with Walker. He washed off the blood, and dumped a hatfull of water down over his head. He then went up to his room and took a clean shirt from the closet.
When he came downstairs, he found Granny Tate with Aunt Ginny in the kitchen, getting a cup of tea. Bree was there, and Darby and Jessica.
Granny was saying, “The bullet broke the bone. It’s a clean break, but the bullet is in at least two pieces, and I can’t get to them without cutting him wide open. The worst thing is one of the pieces of lead nicked an artery. That kind of bleedin’ won’t stop on his own.”
“What does that mean?” Bree said.
Aunt Ginny knew the answer, but she remained gravely silent and let Granny answer the question.
Granny said, “It means, child, his leg has to come off.”
Bree brought a hand to her mouth.
Granny said, “The sooner the better. As soon as that tourniquet is let off, the bleedin’s gonna start again. And if he keeps the tourniquet on much longer, he’s gonna lose the leg anyway.”
Darby looked to his friend. “Jack?”
Jack knew what he was thinking. One thing about his and Darby’s friendship, they tended to talk shop a lot. They even read each other’s text books. Jack had probably as good an understanding of law as was possible without actually attending law school, and Darby had a fairly thorough practical knowledge of medical procedures. And Jack knew the procedure Darby was thinking of.
“There’s a doctor in New York,” Jack said, “who’s had good success with suturing arteries. Stitches, just like with a wound.”
Ginny said, “Can such a thing be done?”
Jack nodded.
Granny said, “But that doctor’s in New York. Don’t do us a lot of good out here.”
“I’ve seen it done,” Jack said. “One of my professors took some of us to New York to see it done a few times.”
“Can you do it?” Aunt Ginny asked.
Jack said, “I’ve only seen it done.”
Granny said, “Might be his only hope.”
“I say we ask him. It’s his leg.”
Granny nodded.
They went out to the parlor. Temperance was sitting with Carter.
Jack explained the situation to him. Carter said, “How sure are you that you can do this?”
“I’m not sure at all. I was only a medical student. That’s a far cry from being an actual doctor.”
“So, if I understand this right, if you try to stitch this artery together and you fail, I lose my leg. If you don’t try, then I still lose my leg.”
Jack nodded. “I think that about sums it up.”
“Then I think I want you to give it a try.”
“Then let’s get going now. The longer we keep that tourniquet on, the more damage that’s going to happen to your leg.” Jack looked to Granny. “I want you to be on hand.”
She said, “Oh, I ain’t gonna miss this for the world.”
He said to Darby, “And I want you to assist. I’ve talked to you enough about it, and you’ve read the same text books I have.”
Darby nodded.
By the time Hunter arrived with Emily and Nina Harding, Carter had already been rendered unconscious with some ether Granny kept on hand, and surgery had commenced. Most everyone had been kicked out of the house. Aunt Ginny and Temperance were waiting in the kitchen, in case they were needed.
Bree explained the situation to Emily and Nina.
Nina said, with little alarm in her voice, “Jack’s operating on Father?”
Bree nodded. “It’ll be all right. I’d put my money on Jack any day. After all, he’s a McCabe.”
Kerosene lamps were standing on the coffee table and floor lamps had been dragged over. Jack and Darby had both washed their hands in whiskey.
“Once we’re done,” Jack said, “presuming this works, we’re going to have to wash that wound out with whiskey. Maybe we can put Pa’s scotch to good use. I’m not going to go through all of this just to see the old bastard die of infection.”
He looked to Granny and said, “Pardon my language.”
“Don’t ‘pologize to me. We all know about the grief he's caused you. News travels around here. You can’t sneeze on one side of the valley without the folks at the other end knowing about it before you put the handkerchief away.”
Jack pried the wound open using a couple butter knives from the kitchen. He found the bone. He pushed muscle aside. He saw a fragment of bullet and with a pair of tweezers pulled it out. He then found the artery.
Jack said, “That’s the posterior tibial artery.”
He could see some torn material at the side of it.
“Darby,” he said, “let off on that tourniquet just a bit. I want to see it bleed. It’ll show me where the rip is.”
Darby did. The arteries immediately under the tourniquet were a bit flattened, but within a few seconds they began to inflate with blood. Jack watched as the posterior tibial artery filled with blood and began to leak out through the tear at the side.
“It’s not a very big tear,” he said. “This could be doable.”
Granny said, “Have you ever worked with stitches before?”
He nodded. “Only on scrapes and cuts and such. This will be the first time working with something like this. I’ll have to move slowly.”
“You take your time, child.”
He said, “All right, Darby. Tighten that tourniquet again.”
Granny then dabbed at some loose blood with a towel, cleaning out the wound.
Jack said, “Let’s try the needle and thread. And let’s hope my hand is steady.”
They waited outside. The Brewsters and the Fords. Hunter was there, and Fred. And Nina and her mother. They all milled about, chatting. And waiting. Some had a mug of coffee or a cup of tea prepared by Aunt Ginny and the girls.
Emily was talking with Mildred Brewster and Elizabeth Ford. Jessica was standing with them. But Ginny noticed Nina was by herself, standing over by the corral. Ginny walked over.
The breeze was picking up, but it was unusually warm for this time of year. The sky was mostly clear, and the light of a three-quarter moon was giving the grass a silvery shine.
“How are you doing?” Ginny said.
Nina shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. My father is in there, and might lose his leg. I feel I should be afraid. I should be crying my eyes out. And yet I stand here, staring off at the sky. I guess I just sort of feel kind of numb all over.”
Ginny nodded. “It’s a natural reaction to times like this. Last summer, at about this time, Jack’s father was lying upstairs in even worse shape than your father’s in now. We didn’t know if he was going to live or die. And I felt exactly the way you describe. Numb.”
“Why did Father have to do that? Why did he have to go into town?”
“Because of who he is. And because of what he is.”
Nina looked at her curiously.
Ginny said, “He’s a man of the gun. And he’s a man of honor. That combination can be a maddening one, and a frightening one, because when trouble happens, they will always take up the gun to defend people. To defend justice. To defend their home or their town. It’s what they do. Just like with Jack. He could have simply turned the outlaw in his jail over to the others, and possibly saved the town and prevented violence. But he couldn’t do that. He had to stand against those outlaws, because that’s what men like Jack do. And men like your father.
“I will admit, I was wrong about your father. When I first met him, I thought he was trouble. He’s a complicated man and it takes some time to understand him, apparently. But I’m coming to think he’s a good man.”
“But they embrace violence. They bring violence onto themselves. In my father’s case, he rode out to meet it. And it wasn’t even his fight.”
Ginny drew a long breath. How to explain this? “The McCabes are men of the gun. It’s probably always been that way with them. Johnny’s great-grandfather, who Johnny is named after, was a trailblazer and a scout who pioneered the mountains of Pennsylvania, back when that part of the world was still a frontier. He fought Indians, and he fought alongside Indians. As the story goes, when a girl about your age from one of the first settlements in that area was captured by an band of Indian warriors from an enemy tribe, it was Johnny’s great-grandfather who chased after her and brought her home safely.”
Nina found herself saying, “Like Jack did with me. Coming to rescue me. It wasn’t even something he had to consider. There was simply no question that he was going to come for me.”
“That’s because he’s a McCabe.”
“What happened to the girl? The one captured by Indians?”
“Johnny’s great-grandfather – John McCabe – married her. They settled in a remote stretch of the Pennsylvania mountains and produced sons. And here the family is now, his descendants, living not much differently than the first John McCabe.
“I don’t know if there were McCabes back in the age of knights and chivalry, but if there were, you could almost bet the farm they were carrying swords and were ready to defend the family, or the town, or the kingdom. Such is their way. They fight, and they fight well. But they never conquer. Such is the stuff of legend, and you’re in the presence of these men now. Even Bree has this running in her blood, which is why I didn’t try to stop her when she rode out to help look for you when you were lost in the mountains. And apparently your father isn’t much different.
“This land is place for people like that. Civilization would be too tame for someone like Jack. It would also hem him in too much. Choke the spirit out of him. I am so amazed at myself that I didn’t see this in him sooner. They are drawn to open land like this, and the women they marry must be here with them. Like with the original John McCabe, and the woman he married.”
“But don’t these men attract violence? Didn’t this Two-Finger Walker come to town because of Jack and his father? Jack’s presence on the trail from Cheyenne is why those men were following us, and why they captured me.”
&n
bsp; “Did you ever hear the story of how Johnny’s father died? Jack’s grandfather?”
Nina shook her head.
Ginny let her gaze trail off toward the ridges. They were visible in the moonlight. She said, “He was shot by a man who had robbed a store. But he wasn’t shot in Montana or Texas or New Mexico Territory. He was shot outside of a small farming town in central Pennsylvania.”
This made Nina’s eyes widen a little.
“Johnny had just returned home from spending a couple of years out west with the Texas Rangers. His two brothers had come home too, and they were with their father cutting firewood. The robber simply happened upon them and fired one shot that caught their father and killed him. You see, violence is not relegated to any one specific area. The west, or anywhere else. It’s something that has dogged the human race from the very beginning and isn’t showing any signs of letting up soon. Living back east doesn’t protect you from it. Staying away from men like Jack McCabe won’t keep away the violence.
“You came with your family willingly to the west. And now here you are. And here Jack is. The man who, without a second thought, rode out into the night to save you from those outlaws. And with a bullet wound in his shoulder. And then he stood fearlessly to defend the town against Walker and those outlaws.
“If I may be so bold, who else would you rather be the father of your children?”
Ginny looked at her. Nina looked back. Ginny didn’t quite fix her with the Gaze, but she did look firmly. And the girl looked firmly back, and didn’t flinch.
Ginny nodded. The girl would do. She had passed muster. The only question was, would she see the point Ginny was trying to make?
The kitchen door opened. All eyes were suddenly on the doorway, as Darby Yates stepped out. From the corral, Ginny and Nina could see Emily rushing over followed by everyone else to hear the news.
“Come, child,” Ginny said to Nina, reaching a hand out to her.
Nina took the hand, and they started for the house.
It was three hours later when Carter woke up. Jack was sitting on the coffee table, a glass of Kentucky whiskey in his hand. What little was left from the bottle he and Darby had mostly emptied the night Darby arrived in town.
One Man's Shadow (The McCabes Book 2) Page 43