Forsaken Falls

by Shirleen Davies

  “I’ve never eaten at the Eagle’s Nest before.” Wyatt escorted her up the front steps, opening the door to the lobby.

  “You won’t be disappointed. They brought a chef out from back east, and he is quite particular about what is served in the restaurant.”

  Passing through the open double doors of the dining room, they looked at each other at the sound of boisterous laughter. Two tables near the far wall, as well as a few closer to the entrance, were filled.

  “Good evening, Miss Evans.” A slender young man wearing a white shirt, black vest, and black pants approached.

  “Hello, Thomas. This is Wyatt Jackson. I believe Nick Barnett made reservations for us.”

  “Yes, he did. Good evening, Mr. Jackson. Please, follow me. The baron and his guests are over there, so I thought a table near the front window might be best.” Once they were seated, he handed them a handwritten list. “This is what the chef is serving tonight. I’ll give you time to decide.”

  Wyatt held the page toward Nora, both reading down the list.

  “Roasted duck, elk stew, steak, or poulet...” Wyatt looked up, his brows scrunched together. “What’s that?”

  Nora grinned. “Poulet au vin blanc? Chicken with white wine.”

  A brow lifted. “Do you speak French?”

  “A little, and some German. Some of the students where I taught in Philadelphia came from Europe. Although they spoke English, most wanted me to learn at least a few of their words and phrases.”

  Wyatt lowered the paper. “I didn’t know you were a teacher.”

  “I taught at the same school Father sent me to after my mother died.”

  Wyatt leaned toward her. “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  Nodding, he settled back in his chair. “I was fourteen when my parents died. It wasn’t easy, but I did have my sister.”

  “I didn’t know you’d lost both your parents when you were young. Allie told me a little bit about what happened with your sister and brother-in-law. I’m sorry.”

  “Like you, I dealt with it and moved on.”

  She studied him, wondering if that were true. “Did you?”

  His surprised gaze bored into hers, but whatever he was about to say evaporated when Thomas stopped at their table.

  “What can I get you tonight, Miss Evans?”

  “I’ll have the duck, please.”

  Thomas looked at Wyatt. “And you, sir?”

  “The elk stew and two glasses of red wine, please.”

  Wyatt waited until Thomas had walked away, then looked back at Nora, his expression troubled. “I do struggle with what happened to my family and what I did during the war. There are many memories I can’t seem to forget.”

  “Maybe you aren’t meant to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Nora thought a moment, resting her hands against the edge of the table. “Although the memories I battle are different than yours, I’ve come to accept they’re there to remind me of my past.”

  Wyatt tilted his head to the side. “Why would that help?”

  “I didn’t say it would help. What I mean is the memories help me remember who I am and where I came from. That way, I don’t expect too much and get disappointed when what I hope for doesn’t happen.”

  Wyatt snorted. “I don’t have that problem.”

  “What problem is that?”

  “Expectations leading to disappointment. I get up each day, do my job, maybe play some cards with the men, and go to bed. Mine is a simple life.” Wyatt glanced away, unable to watch her intense scrutiny. He’d said too much, or she’d seen too much in his face. He wasn’t sure which.

  Waiting while Thomas set down their wine glasses, she picked hers up, turning the stem between her fingers. Staring over the rim of the glass, she pinned him with a questioning look.

  “Then what keeps you up at night, Wyatt Jackson?”

  A Few Hundred Yards from the Frey Ranch

  “If we’re going to do this, JW, we should do it soon. From what our scouts saw, those boys have turned in for the night and should be well asleep by now.” Derrick leaned on his saddle horn, peering at the ranch below. The gang of raiders had been watching the place since a little before sundown, counting the ranch hands, biding their time until JW gave them the signal to move out.

  “Seems odd we saw just three men working this ranch. Where are the others?”

  “It makes sense to me. When we sent those two men into the Wild Rose in Splendor, the bartender told them a couple brothers named Pelletier bought several ranches. He said this one is where they train the horses. The others are where they raise cattle. I’m thinking most of the men are working the cattle part of the ranch.”

  Rubbing his chin, JW watched the main house, noting one lamp still lit on the first floor. “We don’t know which one of the three is Jackson. Maybe he isn’t working this part of the ranch.”

  “The bartender told the boys this is where he works and bunks down. We know he’s one of the two older ranch hands. The other is not much older than sixteen or seventeen.”

  JW looked at Derrick, seeing the determined look on his friend’s face. He and the other men were getting restless, in need of action. It wouldn’t be long before they did something foolish, drawing unwanted attention to the gang.

  “We go after the two older men. Try to take them alive.”

  Derrick ran a hand through his hair, looking over his shoulder at the men. “And if we can’t?”

  “Kill ‘em.”

  “If the kid gets caught up in it?”

  JW shrugged. “I’m not worried about another casualty. We burn the house and barn and run off the horses. Any of our men get shot, we take them with us, along with the bodies of the ranch hands we kill. We’ll use the wanted poster to identify which one is Jackson.”

  “What about taking Jackson back for trial like you first said?”

  “I’ve been thinking on what you said. It’s best to do what’s needed and head out. We don’t need anyone slowing us down, and a prisoner surely would.”

  Derrick blew out a relieved breath. “When do we get started?”

  “You go over it with the men. We’ll send a few men behind the house, a few more will take positions near the barn, and the rest will let the horses out. You and I will be located near the front of the house. We shoot anyone who comes running outside. When it’s done, we set the whole place on fire. By the time the bartender remembers talking to our men, we’ll be past Big Pine and on our way to Moosejaw.”

  Derrick nodded. “I’ll let the men know.”

  JW couldn’t shake the sensation he’d missed something important. He had no reason to doubt the information his men had brought back from their trip into Splendor, or that Jackson lay sleeping in one of the beds inside the large ranch house. Still, his stomach churned, the same as it always did when things didn’t quite make sense.

  He had the same feeling when the gang had been out raiding the night Jackson rode in and set their camp on fire. JW hadn’t heeded the warnings, continuing with their plan to attack a local town full of Union sympathizers.

  Maybe he should slow up their actions tonight, scout the ranch more in the morning, and make certain Jackson was there.

  “The men are ready.”

  JW glanced behind him to see the men split into three groups, their features showing the signs of men ready to go to war. In a way, this was war. A war on the man who’d murdered his cousin and killed his wife. Until he could bring justice to Hattie and Ned, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on their true mission of reclaiming the south for the Confederacy.

  Pulling his gun from its holster, he confirmed all chambers in the six-shooter were loaded. Looking at Derrick, he nodded.

  The men dispersed as ordered, riding in single file, quietly guiding their horses down the path to the house. They made almost no noise. If anyone heard them, they’d think a coyote or other animal rustled the bushes.

  Twenty mi
nutes after giving the order, the men were in their positions, waiting for JW’s signal to start. He sat on his horse at the side of the house, so the men in the front and back could see him. Inhaling a deep breath, he raised his arm, taking one last look around before dropping it.

  Gunfire exploded through the glass as the men fired their rifles and six-shooters at the house. The downstairs exploded into flames when one of the shots hit the oil lamp. He heard yelling from inside an instant before bullets flew toward his men.

  “Take cover!” His shout had his men ducking out of sight while still targeting the windows.

  Screams from behind the house had him reining his horse around. When he reached the back, his throat filled with bile at the sight of two of his men sprawled on the ground. Sliding to the ground, he pulled his rifle from its scabbard. Taking aim at the back door, he moved forward, watching for any sign someone from inside might try to escape.

  The sounds of panicked horses and pounding hooves indicated his men had set the animals loose as the flames inside the house began to spread. Those inside would either die in there or try to make a break for it through the front or back. Either way, they’d be gunned down.

  His men continued to pellet the house with bullets, reloading and emptying their guns as fast as they were able. JW knew it wouldn’t take long before the house crumbled into itself and Jackson’s life would be over.

  Chapter Nine

  Wyatt guided Rogue through the moonlit night toward the old Frey place, his mind still on Nora. He thought of the last question she posed before their supper arrived, thankful for being given no time to answer. How could she know his nights centered on restless sleep and perpetual internal demons?

  While they ate, the conversation moved on to other topics, Ruby Walsh being the most interesting. Nora had strong feelings about those in Ruby’s profession and the lack of opportunities for single women. She held no ill will toward those who made their living on their backs. Her only concern had been their safety. Wyatt had never heard the opinion stated in such eloquent detail.

  By the time they finished dessert and coffee, he’d agreed to escort her to Ruby’s theater after it opened, allowing her a chance to see the inside of a dance hall for the first time. He’d laughed when she mentioned inviting Gabe and Lena to join them, then sobered, realizing Nora meant it.

  She knew Lena, Allie, Abby, and Suzanne would insist on seeing the inside for themselves, viewing the entertainment their men would certainly see at some point. Nora had clarified their visit would be purely for the education of her friends. When his brows rose, she laughed, pleased her jest had the intended effect. Even now, cold, tired, and ready to climb into bed, a grin split his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such an enjoyable evening.

  After coffee, Baron Klaussner had stopped at the table. He’d kissed Nora’s hand, then introduced himself and his son to Wyatt, inviting them to supper after the men completed his house. Sooner if they cared to join him at the Eagle’s Nest one evening.

  Taking her home, Wyatt walked her to the door. Pausing, he’d taken her hand in his, and before he could think it through, asked to see her again. The pleasure on her face did more for him than even her affirmative response. They planned to sit together at church on Sunday, then go to Suzanne’s for supper the following Saturday. The excited sparkle in her eyes continued to drift across his mind as he made the last turn toward the ranch.

  Everything changed at the sound of gunfire and the bright orange glow from the direction of the house. Pulling out his rifle, he urged Rogue forward as the trail widened. What he saw caused him to rein his horse to a stop.

  The barn and house were ablaze. Instead of seeing Travis, Walt, and Sam fighting the flames, men he didn’t recognize approached the house, rifles and six-shooters pointed straight ahead. He mumbled a curse, realizing his friends were being attacked while he’d been enjoying himself over coffee and dessert.

  Rage he hadn’t felt since his sister’s death tore through him. Aiming at the closest man, he rode closer, knowing he’d never miss at this range. Pulling the trigger, he didn’t wait to see the man fall. Instead, he aimed and fired, continuing forward until the repeating rifle emptied.

  Drawing his gun, Wyatt bent low over Rogue’s neck. At first, he had the advantage of surprise. The intruders’ weapons were now aimed at him, bullets whizzing past his head, hitting the ground around him. None of it affected Rogue. The stallion never faltered, as unafraid and determined as his owner.

  Before he reached the ranch house, the attackers stopped shooting and ran for their horses. Seconds later, they’d ridden out of sight, leaving the bodies of their comrades scattered on the ground.

  Wyatt jumped to the ground and ran toward the house, stopping when the front door burst open. Walt rushed outside, carrying Sam away from the flames, Travis limping out behind them. By the time they reached Wyatt, the house started to crash into itself with an ear-deafening roar as walls crumbled and wood exploded.

  Laying Sam on the ground, Walt looked up at Wyatt. “He’s been shot. We have to get him to town.”

  “They ran off the horses and burned the wagon.” Travis scrubbed a hand down his face.

  Wyatt grabbed Rogue’s reins, swinging up into the saddle. “Give Sam to me. I’ll take him to town while you two find your horses.”

  “Walt can ride to the ranch, notify the Pelletiers and gather men. The broke horses may not be hard to find. The wild ones may be lost to us.” Travis rubbed his injured leg.

  “I’ll bring one of the docs back here to look at your injury, Travis.” Reining Rogue around, Wyatt held Sam tight against him, placing a hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. “You hang in there, son. We don’t want to be causing your sisters any worry.” He continued to whisper into Sam’s ear as Rogue sped over the trail, deftly maneuvering the tight turns, as if the horse understood the serious nature of the ride. They’d never made the trip in such a short amount of time.

  Stopping in front of the clinic, Wyatt breathed a relieved sigh at the glow from inside. Either Doc Worthington or Doc McCord was still working downstairs. Sliding to the ground with Sam in his arms, he pounded up the steps and crashed through the door, a stunned Clay McCord turning toward him.

  “Sam’s been shot.”

  Clay pushed open the door to one of the new examination rooms. “In here. Lay him on the table.” Settling a blanket over Sam’s legs and stomach, Clay tore away Sam’s shirt, perusing the damage. “It’s a shoulder wound. Looks like the bullet went clean through. Get me some hot water from the stove. There are clean rags in the cupboard.”

  Rushing to do what Clay asked, Wyatt thought of the men who’d attacked his friends, wondering at their motive. They’d not only meant to harm Travis, Walt, and Sam, their goal included burning down the house and barn and running off the horses. Wyatt understood the outlaws were bent on complete destruction, but why?

  “Hold Sam down while I clean the wound. I don’t want him moving.”

  Using one arm to secure the young man’s legs, Wyatt tightened his hold on the injured shoulder, watching Clay clean the wound with water, then pour whiskey into the small cavity. Sam’s involuntary jerk had Wyatt pressing down on his legs and body.

  Placing a small, clean rag against the wound, Clay secured it in place with bandages. “He’ll be in considerable pain when he wakes up. I have laudanum if it becomes too unbearable.”

  “Give him whiskey, Doc. I’ve seen what happens to patients who begin to crave laudanum. I don’t want Sam to be one of those men.”

  Clay nodded. “I understand, Wyatt, and agree with you.”

  Hearing noises out front, he opened the examination room door. Lydia ran up to him, followed by Rosemary.

  “Doc McCord. Is my brother here?”

  He grabbed her arm when she tried to move past him. “He’s here, Lydia. I’ve treated the bullet wound. Sam’s still out, so let him sleep. He’s going to be in considerable pain when he wakes up. I’m s
ure he’d appreciate you and Rosemary being with him.” Motioning Lydia into the room, he turned to Rosemary. “May I speak with you?”

  “Of course, Doctor.” Rosemary had trained as a nurse under Rachel Pelletier and now worked at the clinic several days a week.

  Pulling her aside, Clay lowered his voice. “I don’t want to use laudanum unless absolutely necessary. It may be best to give him whiskey for pain and see how he does.”

  Rosemary clasped her hands in front of her, nodding. “I understand. Dirk has told me how hard it can be to stop using it once the pain goes away.”

  “It can become addicting. We’ll use whiskey sparingly. I hope it will be enough. And watch for infection. You won’t need to replace the bandage for several hours.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Touching her arm, Clay smiled. “He’s going to be all right, Rosemary.”

  Sucking in a breath, she nodded. “I’d better sit with Lydia.”

  “I thought Bull might ride in with you.”

  Rosemary looked up at him. “They needed him and the other men to help round up the horses after the fire.”

  Clay’s brows drew together. “Fire?”

  “Didn’t Wyatt tell you what happened?”

  “He brought Sam in, told me he’d been shot, then we got right to work.” Clay looked at Wyatt, who stood several feet away, his gaze moving between the exam room and front door. “I’ll go speak with him now.”

  While Rosemary joined Lydia in the examination room, Clay walked over to Wyatt. “Rosemary mentioned a fire.”

  Wyatt nodded. “At the old Frey place. A group of outlaws rode in, shot up the place, set the house and barn on fire, and let the horses out. I arrived as it burned.”

  “Any idea who would’ve done it?”

  “No, but I’m going to find Cash and tell him about it. Then I’m heading back to the ranch to help the men. If you have time, I’d appreciate it if you’d come along to check on Travis. He got injured during the attack.”