That evening Jessica lie in bed, her arms behind her head. She felt satisfied with herself for securing her artwork in two venues. It felt like a new beginning, and she welcomed the feeling with all her heart. Studying the ceiling, her mind went to Jacob. Although her promising career buoyed her sagging spirits, she ached deep inside for him and their baby. When would she see him again? Surely he would come back someday. She rolled over on her side and placed a hand on her belly. Tears pricked her cheeks.
Chapter Fifty-three
March 1887
In the small tent, and with the unsteady light of a kerosene lamp, Jacob struggled to see his own writing on the yellowed paper. The rain dripped from the tent’s open flap, filling his heart with loneliness. He hadn’t seen Jessica since his and Will’s surprise visit. It felt as if a lifetime had passed, yet he couldn’t erase their time together from his mind. He pressed the lead pencil hard on the wrinkled pages as he poured out his life to her.
Dear Jessica,
I said I wouldn’t write to you, but I find I can no longer keep to that. I miss you. Knowing I will not be able to receive a response from you hurts me, but it is for my sanity that I talk to you.
The trails have been unforgiving, and my life is in great need of change. To be honest with you, Jess, I’m not as legitimate as I had professed to be, and keeping that from you seems impossible for me now. I told you not to worry for Will and me, but you have every cause to. I’m sorry, but I need to feel your worry, your concern, or at least know you are thinking of me.
Since we left that September day, we’ve traveled up the coast of Oregon, then farther east where we came upon tribes of Indians warring with each other. They needed the weapons we had to offer, and we needed the money. I should have known that nothing would be that easy. …
Pausing to collect his thoughts, he stared into the dancing flame trapped inside the lantern’s glass chimney, remembering. Regretting.
South Central Oregon–January 1887
From his shirt pocket, Jacob took out the piece of paper with directions to the spot where their next trade would take place. The Klamath Reservation was a vast land of rugged terrain filled with flat expanses, valleys, plateaus, and rivers that snaked along its hills. The mist and drizzling rain surrounded them in a small clearing marked on the map. He looked ahead at the stand of tall firs and cedars also marked out. Somewhere in there was a band of settlers looking to buy weapons and ammo. The man who had scribbled out the map in the saloon last night told him his gang was heading up to the Grande Ronde Reservation in Northern Oregon. “The government might have let those redskins have that land, but we want it back!” the man proclaimed, followed by a grizzly sneer. It gave Jacob an uneasy feeling. Just last week they’d sold guns and ammunition to three members of the Tillamook tribe who had ventured south from their reservation. Jacob asked no questions—he didn’t want to know.
Their horses trudged through the thick underlayers of ferns, salal, and broken branches laden with the guns and ammunition. The map said to stay north, and Jacob consulted his compass several times. The sweet scent of the pine trees gave him little comfort. After nearly an hour, they came to another clearing where ten or more men on horseback waited. They wore cowboy hats, thick, heavy, cotton coats, worn, leather riding gloves, and leather chaps. Their beards ran down their chests. One of them finally spoke.
“I see you found your way. These men and me want to make a clean deal, and that means we don’t want any trouble with the government.” They all sat tall upon their horses, their guns in clear sight.
“I told you last night we’re not with the government,” Jacob said. “We have six rifles and six pistols. They’re all in ready condition, ammo included.”
“All right. Now get down from your horses.”
Jacob looked at Will and nodded once. The leader laughed sharply. He gave a signal to his men and everyone dismounted. Jacob counted the cash while the men examined their guns. He placed the hundred dollars in his pack. It wasn’t their biggest cash deal, nor their smallest.
No sooner had Will and Jacob ridden away than the sound of a few gunshots rang out like pops of firecrackers. “I’m glad to hear they work,” Will said.
Jacob had a funny feeling in his gut. He looked back. Through the trees, he caught glimpses of riders on mustangs—they were Indians. One rider wheeled around toward them. Otis reeled up, nearly dumping Jacob to the ground. He held tight on the reins and the horse came down. The bone in the rider’s nose and shells draped on his neck and chest were indicative of the dress of the Tillamook people. Jacob’s heart raced. How could they have found them? The battle cries and gunfire broke through the peaceful forest.
Without a word, Jacob and Will pushed their horses into a gallop. Shouts silenced by bullets spurred Jacob to ride as fast as Otis would take him.
He rode until the chaos was well behind him. The trail became unfamiliar and Jacob realized they were not heading back the same way. A faint light ahead indicated they had reached some sort of clearing, but not the one they had come from. He turned to Will to get his take on the situation. The blood rushed to his head. There was nothing but forest behind him—his cousin was nowhere in sight. He stopped and began to search wildly in the low light. He turned and headed back to retrace his escape, his adrenaline surging.
Will’s horse came trotting toward him without its rider. The animal was stained with blood. “Christ!” He looked around for a low branch in which to secure Drake. then he backtracked their escape. He feverishly searched the ground as the gunshots became loud and clear again with the cries of triumph and defeat. Finally, in the underbrush a familiar figure lie still.
Jacob flew off his horse and trembled as he lifted his cousin’s torso. Will’s shirt was wet with blood. With his heart in his throat, he felt his cousin’s neck for a pulse. He was alive. Jacob quickly removed the coat and shirt from the limp body and tied the shirt around Will’s chest. The wound was on his side with no indication of a bullet hole. It gave Jacob hope he had been grazed and not shot straight through. He discovered another bloody shot in his arm. He took the bandana from his cousin’s head and tied it tightly around the second wound. The flow of blood slowed to a steady weeping.
Getting back to Drake, he led the horse to Will. With a deep inhale and all his strength, he hoisted Will’s heavy body across Drake’s back while trying to steady the spooked animal. It took several tries, but at last his cousin was draped across the horse. He found rope in his pack and tied it to the horse’s halter. Finally, he was able to mount his own horse. “All right, Otis, you gotta help me here.” He pulled on Drake, and the horse reluctantly walked with his master draped over his back. “Steady, boy, that’s it. Come on now.” Otis wanted to investigate Drake’s new circumstances, and Jacob had a time keeping him riding forward as he continued to encourage Drake. He made slow progress as Drake would stop and start in fits.
Emerging from the forest, he soon came upon a small village. On first inspection, it looked deserted but for the smoldering firepit in the middle of a circle of dwellings. Little pole buildings, the sides and roofs covered in swathes of bark, looked uninhabited. As he dismounted an old woman came running out of one of the dwellings. He could see she was one of the native people.
“No, no, no!” she cried, flailing her arms. “You go! Go!” She ran up to Jacob, striking him with her fists. He barred himself from the onslaught.
“I need help. Where is your doctor, your medicine man?”
“You go! You go!” She continued her chant, her feet kicking up dust around her small, deerskin-covered body.
Walking past the woman, he knocked on the first door he came to. A skin-covered, wooden frame flung open, causing him to step back. The woman standing in front of him gestured for him to leave, then slammed the door shut. He stepped away, only to see an old man approaching him from across the circle.
“You go! Go!” the elder cried out in a feeble voice, waving his arms and hands at Will’s st
ill body as if to shoo away any evil spirits. Then he and the old woman began to talk in their native tongue. Drake whinnied and moved sideways, clearly anxious to get rid of his pack. Jacob neared his breaking point.
“Jesus Christ!” He checked Will’s pulse. Still there, but weak. He had to continue on, as there was no time to waste. He got back on his horse, and with his injured cousin in tow, Jacob rode from the unwelcoming village. His thoughts and emotions were swimming in his head as he tried to piece together where he was. He felt the sting of tears run down his anguished face.
“Oye! Hey! Escucha!” he heard from behind him. He turned around to see a young man running after him.
The man spoke in a thick, Spanish accent, nearly out of breath. “I can help.”
Jacob followed in guarded relief until they arrived at an old shack in back of one of the dwellings. They carefully laid Will on a long, wooden table in the middle of the small room. To one side, an old dresser had various-size bottles on top of it and a large jar of liquid that held scissors and other implements. The cramped space was tidy for its rundown state.
“Do you speak English? Are you a doctor?”
“Claro, claro! Yes! Fortez is my name.” He impatiently moved Jacob aside as he took several yards of narrow cloth out of one of the drawers. He untied the blood-soaked shirt and bandana. “What in the name of God are you two doing way out here? This is no place for you.” Before Jacob could respond, he flung his hand in the air. “No quiero oirlo.”
Jacob watched intently as the doctor examined his patient. He wondered briefly how the Spanish doctor came to be here.
“You were smart to tie these,” Fortez said. “I cannot do much for him, but I can put fresh bandages on these wounds. They do not look too deep.” The doctor plunged a finger into Will’s wounds. “I feel no bullets in here.”
The room spun and Jacob’s stomach flopped. He had to turn away. His mind fled to the time he himself had to examine an arm for bullets. He had been braver with Caleb. Now he reeled with dizziness.
“Doc Middleman in Medford can stitch him up,” the doctor said. “I am afraid I am all out of thread and needles. If you can tell the good doctor we need help here in Wolf Village, I would be very grateful to you, amigo. Now I will set him up to weather the trip.” He looked directly at Jacob and shook his head. “Not promising.”
“How far is it from here?”
“About three and a half miles. It will take you over an hour, maybe two, and it’ll be rough on your amigo.”
Will moaned and briefly opened his eyes, then fell out of consciousness.
Chapter Fifty-four
Stopping to sharpen the tip of the pencil with a penknife, Jacob then shook out his sore, cramped hand. Bending over the paper on his knee, he continued his letter.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in all my life, Jess. The road seemed to go on forever. This town of Medford was beginning to look as if it never existed and Will would die right beside me, slumped over his horse, but I got us there.
Jacob managed to get them to Medford, Oregon, a civilized town with many houses on a stretch of mostly flat land. The center of town had shops, a large hotel, a theatre, a post office, a sheriff’s office and Doc Middleman’s home and practice. As the winter sun dipped behind the distant, snowcapped mountains, Jacob looked for Will’s last hope.
The townspeople stared with hushed comments as he called out to the doctor while still mounted on Otis. Drake shifted impatiently.
Doc Middleman’s response was quick and agitated. The tall, large man went to work on Will in his well-stocked patients’ room. He leaned over the table, his spectacles pinched to the bridge of his nose.
“He’s lucky those gunshots weren’t deep. Looks as if the bullets landed somewhere else. He’s lost some flesh and a lot of blood.” He handed Jacob cotton pads and some rubbing alcohol. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this. Some make it, and some don’t. I’ll take these stitches out in a few weeks. He should regain consciousness now that the bleeding has stopped. If he doesn’t, then it might be too late to do anything.”
Jacob took in every word. The doctor washed his hands and dried them on a clean towel. He went to a cabinet and handed Jacob a small, brown vial.
“Here’s something for the pain. If he does wake up, he’ll be feeling plenty of it. Give him a teaspoon or so before he becomes too uncomfortable, but no more than four times a day.”
Jacob took the vial. “What is this stuff?”
“It’s a combination of morphine, cannabis, and alcohol, among other things.”
Jacob thought of Caleb and his wounded arm.
“So Doctor Fortez helped you with this?”
“He wanted me to tell you they are in great need of supplies, needles and thread. That’s why he couldn’t stitch him up.”
Doc Middleman grinned. “Oh, your friend here would be glad of that. Carlos is not known for his good mending. All right then, he can stay here tonight, then the hotel across the street will have to be your home until he’s well enough to ride. That’ll take about three weeks, if there are no complications. By the looks of it, Son, you surely can’t afford to have me nurse him back to health. Once he’s moved to his room, I’ll send my nurse assistant to check on him.”
“Can I sit with him?”
“Go ahead, but don’t touch him. Infection is the cause for most of these things going bad.” Doc Middleman left the room.
Jacob pulled a chair next to the bed and looked at his cousin’s ashen face. An acute feeling of guilt struck his heart. He didn’t understand the feeling. After all, his cousin was willing to take the chances. He never had to bend his arm to do so. Still, he felt responsible for him. Their lives had always been inextricably linked, with Jacob as the voice of reason. Nowadays, he felt that Will was just as much in that role, and he had come to rely on it.
“Don’t die on me.” He swallowed his emotions and held Will’s hand until he gave in to his exhaustion. He left to make arrangements at the hotel, leaving his cousin’s fate in the hands of God.
It took most of our earnings to pay the doctor and to get a room where Will could convalesce. I took a job at the town’s saloon. Will healed slower than I thought he would. We always knew our line of work was dangerous, but I guess we never thought to put away for a rainy day, so to speak.
It was going on the third week of their arrival into Medford, and Jacob was getting ready for his shift at the Towne Saloon. He combed his hair and made himself decent for work. Will was sitting up in bed, his strength slowly returning.
“Jake, do you think this is our punishment for selling illegal guns?” He winced as he tried to sit up straighter.
“Probably. Just heal up so we can get the hell out of here.”
“Have you seen Mi?”
It had been two days since Doc Middleman’s assistant had come to call on him, and Jacob knew he was missing her attention. He saw the look on his cousin’s face whenever Mi wrapped his bandages, humming a soothing tune. He understood how Will could be attracted to the young woman. Her black hair was severely pulled back into a ponytail that ran down her back, exposing her pretty, oval face and wide-set eyes. Her pleasing smile had offered Jacob comfort in those first critical days when he wasn’t sure if his cousin would live or die. She and Will were falling in love, and Jacob had to make sure he got well soon. The petite, American-born Chinese woman was not in their plan. “Your nurse is probably on her way.”
“Can you believe how she became a nursing student? With her Chinese parents owning a restaurant, with little money?” Will spoke with pride.
“Yes, Will, so you’ve said.”
“She’s made it on her own as a Chinese girl. She’s almost a full-fledged nurse. I think that’s damn smart of her.” He grimaced and put a hand to his arm.
“Take it easy.” Jacob turned back to the mirror to adjust the tie he was given to wear. “I hate this fuckin’ job.” He had only been a barkeep at the Towne Saloon f
or a week, and he ached for his freedom. He knew they couldn’t leave until their debt to the doctor was paid in full, even if Will was healed enough to get back on a horse.
“I like her, Jake.”
“Yep. Why wouldn’t you, with all that attention?”
“Jealous?”
“Don’t get attached to her. You know damn well we can’t stay here. I want to get back to California. This goddamn tie!” He whipped the black string off his neck and tried again.
“Just because you can’t have the one you love, don’t deny me a chance,” Will muttered.
Jacob ignored him. “I’ve got to go. If she brings up soup, save some for me.” He turned for the door.
“I’ll save you some soup if you save me some liquor.” Will’s impish grin gave Jacob hope his cousin was on his way to a full recovery.
“I’ll see what I can do.” As he walked down the hall to the stairs, Mi was reaching the top step.
“Hello, Jacob.”
“He’s been waiting for you. Oh, and by the way, he’s not sticking around here, so don’t make him too comfortable, if you know what I mean.”
“Your cousin and I have developed a very nice friendship. I think who he befriends is none of your business.” Her intelligent eyes held no apologies or excuses.
“It is my business. So, like I said, don’t get too comfortable together.”
Will is still getting over his wounded arm and aching heart, Jacob wrote. His nursemaid wasn’t as interested in him as he was in her. They both seem to realize the circumstances. I’m glad for your brother coming to his senses.
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