Stained Snow

by Brown, Fallon

  He had only been on the trail for about a mile when he saw something laying in front of him. At this distance, he couldn’t make it out. He hadn’t gone much farther when he knew what it was. The horses tipped him off. They snorted, and tossing their heads and prancing in the traces, but refusing to move forward. He didn’t need to look any closer to know what lay in his way. A dead body. He didn’t know if it was human or animal. With a sigh he jumped down from the wagon seat.

  He soothed the horses with a few murmured words after grabbing the rifle he kept under his seat. It might be a body, but he didn’t know what else could be around. What had left it there could still be near, or it might attract other creatures. Because it hadn’t landed there by nature’s course. Even he could smell the blood around it. He approached cautiously, but it didn’t move. Nothing moved in the surrounding area, either. Even the winter birds were silent. It didn’t feel right.

  George stood a couple feet away. He could tell exactly what it was now. Not a deer, or bear, or any other creature he might have expected to see laying on the trail. No, this was no animal. Blood stained the ground under the body, but it had to be fairly fresh. He had driven over this trail, going to town, the night before. It happened sometime today, maybe that’s what those shots had been. No snow covered the body, which meant it happened since the snow they’d had that morning. By the hat laying a foot away from the body, and the coat covering its torso, this was a human.

  A horse snorted as he took a step forward, and he turned his head. He noticed the animal standing beyond some snow covered trees, the branches already stripped of its leaves. It snorted again before taking a step forward. His mount hadn’t gone far from him. That should tell George something.

  The man’s back rose then fell again as he approached. Maybe not as dead as he’d thought.

  No sign of anyone else being near. Unlikely he’d been wounded here, unless he’d been ambushed. Either way, he was injured but still alive. George could not leave him out here.

  “I don’t know what you’ve gotten into, boy,” he said, because he didn’t look so much like a man after all, “but I s’pose that’s up to the Lord to deal with, not me. I wouldn’t be no better than the man who put you here if I leave ya.”

  He returned to the wagon, slipped the rifle back into its place beneath the seat, and, grabbing the reins, led the team of horses closer to the body. He had to speak to them the whole time to get them to settle and move forward. When he stopped them beyond the boy’s body, they minced the ground with their hooves. They wouldn’t spook and take off. He let them be while he returned to the wounded boy.

  “This is probably gonna hurt. There’s not much I can do about it.” He hoped the boy was far enough gone he wouldn’t feel much of it. He slid both arms under the body and lifted it, grunting under the weight, more than what he expected. He stumbled toward the wagon, his insides twisting at the cry of pain passing the boy’s lips. Then some unintelligible words. “Said it would hurt,” George said as he maneuvered the body into the back of the wagon. “I’ll get ya back to my home and do what I can for you. That’s about the only promise I can make.”

  When he brushed some of the boy’s sandy blond hair away from his face, he thought he might be closer to mid-twenties, so maybe not so much a boy. Of course, that could mean he was anywhere from eighteen, like his daughter, to into his thirties. Life out here could make looks deceiving.

  He approached the horse, hoping he wouldn’t spook it away. The horse shook his head and sidestepped him. “You’ve been loyal to your partner here. I don’t want to leave you out here on your own.”

  The horse shook his head again, but this time took a step forward. It took longer than he’d like, but he finally got the horse’s reins tied around the back of the wagon. He climbed back up into the seat.

  The ride in the back of the wagon wouldn’t be comfortable, even for a healthy man, and he had nothing with which to make it better. Nothing he could do about that. He hoped the boy would make it to the ranch alive. He would hate to think he had a man’s death on his hands.

  #

  Barnes Ranch, Colorado

  November 7, 1887

  Maggie stood in the doorway, looking out toward the horizon. Pa should have been back by now. She ran her hands along her arms, trying to wipe away the chill that wasn’t completely because of the weather. Any number of things could be holding him up. She had a worried feeling about it anyway.

  She hadn’t seen Thomas in six months. Tears stung her eyes. Adam was right. He wasn’t coming back again. Maybe he hadn’t loved her.

  Who the hell was Anna?

  She rubbed her arms once again then turned and stepped back into the house. She had to finish getting dinner ready. Hopefully Pa would be home in time to eat it. Adam and the foreman had ridden out to the line shack a couple days ago. They’d be up there to keep an eye on the cattle for the winter. She missed him already. He’d always been a good friend.

  She had pulled dinner away from the fire when the beat of horse’s hooves and the rattle of the harness came from the yard. She wiped her hands on her apron and hurried to the door. She started to smile, then noticed the grim look on her father’s face. A fear clutched at her heart. “Did you hear something about Thomas?” She hurried across the yard to him. Maybe he was coming back.

  George shook his head but didn’t look at her. “I didn’t even see him while I was there. I know you hoped he’d come back, but you’ve gotta face the fact he may have ridden on.”

  “No.” She’d said it with more conviction than Thomas’ half a year absence should have left her. “No, Pa. He’ll be back. He said he would be.”

  George gave a short nod. Then, he motioned to the back of the wagon. “We’ve got us another problem. I found him out on the trail.”

  “Who is it?” Maggie asked as she stepped closer to the wagon. She could only see his face. “What happened to him?”

  “Don’t rightly know, but he needed help. Someone left him out there to die. I don’t want to let that happen. Now, let’s get him inside.”

  She stepped around to the back of the wagon but her heart lurched at the sight of the blood. “He’s lost too much already,” George said as he came around. “We need to get it to stop, or we will lose him. I can’t do it out here, Maggie. It’s a lot to ask of you, but I need your help.”

  She nodded. She’d helped him with some hard tasks over the years. She could deal with this.

  Still she staggered under the dead weight of the body. She took his legs while her father handled his torso. They managed to carry him into the house. “Who would want to hurt him, Pa?” Maggie asked when they had him laying in front of the fireplace. “He doesn’t look like a bad guy.” He kind of looked like Thomas.

  “I don’t know, Maggie. I do know I need you to boil me some water. If these wounds get infected, he’s not going to have much of a chance.”

  Maggie did as her father asked, going to get bandages and holding down the stranger when he needed that of her. Her heart broke to see such a young, and handsome, man in such pain. She probably shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He might not even make it. There was something about him. Again, he almost reminded her of Thomas. There was something different though.

  No, she told herself. Even if he survived, he wouldn’t be any different. He’d ride away, too. Her own actions would be the only difference. She wouldn’t let herself fall again.

  She watched as her father dug a bullet out of his chest, which had thankfully missed his heart by several inches. The other wound went clear through. Her father impressed her by being able to handle a needle to sew up the wounds before he wrapped the bandages around them. He sat back and looked up at her. “That’s about all we can do. The rest will be up to him.”

  “Do you think he’ll make it?”

  “I s’pose that has more to do with whether the Lord is ready for him or not than with anything we’ve done here today.” He set his hand on her shoulder
as he came around the body. “Come, Maggie. Let’s eat some of that supper you prepared. I don’t imagine he’ll be up for any of it any time soon.”

  She cast another look at the young man laying on their floor then moved over to the kettle and dished out the stew she had prepared. She hoped he was strong enough to pull through.

  #

  William groaned as pain sliced through his chest. What happened to him? Had he fallen from his horse? He vaguely remembered that. Had David seen him? That would spoil his hero status in the boy’s eyes. A woman hummed. Anna? Had Anna found him?

  He tried to look around, but he couldn’t see anything. Why wouldn’t his eyes open? Pain flared in his chest again as he shifted. The humming stopped. Footsteps approached him, soft, unsure. A hand brushed over his forehead. He heard her talking to him. He wanted to reach out to her, wanted to touch his wife again. How long had it been? It seemed like forever since he’d touched her. It couldn’t have been, could it? Something didn’t feel right. Like he needed to remember something and couldn’t quite find it. Why couldn’t he open his eyes?

  Her voice came through stronger and left William feeling even more uneasy. Something was wrong. That wasn’t Anna’s voice. What was happening? He finally pried his eyes open. He barely processed what he saw around him.

  He wasn’t at his ranch. Certainly not outside. He laid on a floor, in front of a fire. It wasn’t his home, wasn’t his floor, wasn’t his fire. He was sure of it. Where was he? Where was Anna? Had that been her humming? He turned his head and fought to bring the room into focus as pain made his head spin. She knelt beside him. At first he thought she was his wife. Something wasn’t right. The eyes looking down into his looked like hers, in a face with a similar shape. Something was missing. He noticed the hair falling down over her shoulder. It was a light brown. Anna’s was pale, like corn silk. This wasn’t Anna.

  William’s tongue darted out to touch his parched lips. The woman shifted beside him. “Do you want some water?”

  He gave a short nod, not sure if he could talk, and the motion sent his head spinning again. He groaned and closed his eyes, but opened them again when she approached. She lifted his head with one hand then held the cup up to his lips. “Is that better?” she asked when she took the cup away.

  He nodded then tried out his voice. “Who are you?” The words came out as a croak, but his voice smoothed out as he asked, “Where am I?” He wanted to ask what happened, but a heaviness weighing on his chest made him think he didn’t want to know.

  “My name’s Maggie Barnes. You’re at my Pa’s ranch near Lay. Do you remember what happened to you?”

  He shook his head quickly, but the memories tried to come back, and a tear burned at the corner of his eye. Anna. He had to find Anna and David. Where was his son? Visions of two caskets came to him. No. No, no, no. That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. He tried to sit up. “Where’s my wife?”

  The girl stumbled back then came back and put a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t get up. You’re still too weak. Just lay here. I’ll go get Pa. He’s the one who found you.”

  He closed his eyes again before her footsteps retreated. He couldn’t stop the tear from sliding down his cheek. The memories came back to him. Dead. They were both dead. He had buried his wife and son. He’d been on the trail for their killer. For his brother. He found him and tried to take him in. What had happened? He remembered confronting Thomas outside of town. After that everything went fuzzy and gray.

  Footsteps approached again. Those soft, unsure ones. The girl, Maggie, she said her name was. Heavier footsteps mixed with hers. He tried to bring his hand up to his face to wipe away the tears, but he couldn’t even lift his arm.

  “It’s okay, son,” a deep voice said from beside him. “Relax. You’re going to be all right.”

  “What happened to me?” William asked after licking his still dry lips.

  “You don’t remember?”

  William shook his head, feeling as if he didn’t even have the energy to open his eyes. He’d caught up to Thomas. Had said he was going to take him in. Then, what? His mind couldn’t grab onto the memory. “I almost had him.”

  “Who, son? Do you know who did this to you?”

  “What did he do? It hurts.”

  The man sighed. “He shot you, boy. Twice. I found you laying on the trail on my way back from town. You don’t remember how you got there?”

  Then he did. “He wouldn’t come with me. I was going to take him in, but he wouldn’t come with me.”

  “Are you the law, boy? I didn’t see a badge with you.”

  William shook his head then forced his eyes open again and looked up at the older man. “No. I’m a deputy sometimes in Lander, but not now. He killed my wife. My son. I have to find him.” He struggled up, but George put a hand on his shoulder and easily held him down.

  “Not now, son. You have to rest. He’s gone now anyway. You’ve been here nearly four days. You have to heal before you can make things right.”

  Four days? Another four days had passed with Thomas free. He would never find him now. He collapsed back to the floor, all of his strength gone. George and Maggie spoke to him, but he couldn’t make out their words. He wanted the peace of darkness to take over him again.

  He should have died out there on the trail. Then, he could be with his family again.

  Chapter 13

  November 15, 1887

  Maggie carried a bowl of water and roll of bandages down the hall to Henry’s room. No, it wasn’t Henry’s room any longer. Her brother had been gone for nearly ten years. Twelve really, since he hadn’t been home much after joining the Army. It would always be his room, though.

  Right now, it was William’s. That’s the name he’d given; William Bailey. She gave the door a quick knock before opening it. He’d slept in front of the fire for the first week he’d been there. Those first days after he’d woken up, he hadn’t stayed awake long. Only long enough for her to ask his name and see he had the most striking blue eyes. Thomas’ were the same color, but darker. There was something similar and yet so different about the two men.

  He turned his head toward her when she stepped into the room. His eyes filled with grief, and she thought tracks of tears ran down his cheeks. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the spurts of anger she’d seen when her father kept him from getting out of the bed.

  He seemed determined to get himself killed after everything they’d done to save him.

  Of course, he could barely even sit up by himself, so there wasn’t too much risk of that. “Have you come to let me out of here yet?” he asked, his voice rough.

  She set the bowl of water on the table beside the bed. “You’re not imprisoned here, Will. If you could get up out of that bed, we’d let you walk out of here as you are.”

  Color crept up into his cheeks, and he turned his face away again. Maggie sighed and walked over to the edge of the bed. She had more things to do. She couldn’t fight with him all day. When she pulled the blanket down, he jerked it back up.

  “I have to clean and rebandage your wounds, Will. You’ll get an infection if I don’t.” She’d already nursed the man through one fever, she wasn’t about to let modesty make it so she had to through another.

  “Maybe I don’t really care. Your pa should have left me out there.”

  The color leeched out of her face. She had to draw in a breath past the sudden weight in her chest. “That’s a stupid thing to say, Will. Pa never would have done that. No matter what you had done he would have helped you.”

  “I did nothing,” he cried. His chest rose and fell as he struggled to regain control. Then, he winced. The move obviously caused him pain. “Nothing but let my wife and son down. I promised I’d make him pay and instead he’s still out there. If he finds out I’m still alive, he’ll probably come after me. I don’t want to bring him down on you and your pa. He should have left me there.”

  “Don’t say that.” She pulled the
blanket down again. “He did the right thing bringing you here. You’d be dead if he hadn’t.”

  “Exactly,” William said, his gaze staying trained on the ceiling as she cut through the bandages.

  The one word cut straight through her. Did he think it would be better if he died? She couldn’t imagine the grief he was going through, but she still couldn’t see how it would be better to stop living.

  He didn’t speak or even look at her as she cleaned the wounds, but he did raise up on his elbows so she could wrap the bandages around him. His arms shook by the time she finished, and he practically dropped back onto the bed. His eyes closed as she gathered her supplies back up. “I’ll be back with some food for you,” she said.

  His head nodded slightly, the only sign he’d even heard her. By the time she returned with his food, he was sleeping. She set the plate of food on the table before pulling the blanket up over him. Her fingers brushed his forehead, moving his hair away from his face. Something stirred inside her, but she quickly pushed it away. She still held out hope Thomas would come back for her. She didn’t feel anything but pity for this man.

  He’d be riding on as soon as he had his strength back. She couldn’t feel anything more for him.

  #

  Another week passed before William was well enough to stand on his own. There wasn’t much in his room, but from what there was he could tell it belonged to another young man. Maggie had briefly mentioned a brother one time when she tended him. This must have been his. It didn’t explain where that brother was.

  He could only sit up on his own for a few minutes here and there. Even walking out to the main room with help to eat with the family took so much out of him, he would no longer have the energy to bring the food to his mouth. Maggie would bring his food back to him to save that strength.