Kiss Of The Night Wind

by Taylor, Janelle

  The skilled man took a long instrument with a slightly curved tip called a sound and probed the hole until he heard it make contact with metal. He eyed the spot and assessed the location. With slender gouging forceps, he wiggled them into the wound and grasped for the bullet. The bleeding was profuse now, but he couldn’t stop groping. Finally he captured the lead between the forcep tips and carefully withdrew it. He tossed the bullet into a pan of water with his bloody instrument.

  The doctor dabbed sweat from his brow and above his upper lip. He pressed a cloth to the fiery location to halt some of the bleeding so he could see to make stitches. He poured antiseptic—a wonder product by Robert Johnson—on the area, then sutured the wound with silk thread. After bandaging her, he said, “That’s all I can do for her, Ranger Jamison. Keep her quiet and still. Try to force water and soup into her. If the bleeding stops soon and no infection sets in, she could survive. I would recommend holding her prisoner at the hotel. That jail isn’t any place for her in this condition. As for me, I’d like to speak with that Indian fellow. Whatever he poured on the wound kept her alive until I could treat her. If he hadn’t, she’d either have bled to death or been too enfevered to save. I’ve heard those Indians have magical cures we whites know nothing about. If he would work with me, we could advance medicine ten years.”

  “His name is Kale Rushton. He’s half-Apache and half-Spanish. Talk to the Governor; maybe he’ll work something out for you two.”

  The doctor smiled and said, “It’s worth a try.”

  T.J. suggested, “You should check her right wrist; she sprained it badly a few days back.”

  After the doctor looked at it, then bandaged it snugly.

  Carrie Sue was taken to the hotel and placed in bed. T.J. sat down to watch over her. To him, she looked so pale and weak lying there, and it ripped at his heart to know he was responsible.

  “Don’t leave me, love, and I promise you won’t ever be harmed again,” he murmured, placing kisses over her face and parted lips. He tasted and inhaled the bitter remains of the ether. He took a cloth and washed her face. “You’re so beautiful, Carrie Sue Stover,” he said as he gazed into her serene face. He wanted to see her lovely eyes open again. He stroked her tawny red hair and lifted her left hand to kiss each fingertip.

  “I need you with me, woman. Hang on to life, love, please,” he beseeched the unconscious redhead.

  A knock summoned T.J. to the door. Two of the Rangers came inside and questioned her condition.

  T.J. glanced toward the bed and informed them. “I don’t think she’s going to make it. Why don’t you head on to Waco in the morning? If she gets well, I’ll escort her there. If not, I’ll join you soon.”

  “That’s what we came to see you about, Thad. We need to keep the prisoners here a few days. Quade Harding and his boys left town late this morning. I’ve called the posse back together to ride after them at first light. You want to come along? I know you have a score to settle with him, and you are the superior officer here.”

  “I’m putting you in charge, Harry. Just get the bastard and his gang for me. I want to stay here with Carrie Sue. It’s my fault she got shot helping me. With her brother in jail, she has no one to take care of her. We got close on the trail, so I’d prefer to tend her.”

  One of the Texas Rangers asked, “What will happen to her, Thad, if she survives?”

  “I’ve requested a pardon for her from the President and Governor. I expect it to come through any day now. She did help us capture the Stover Gang and she’s given evidence against Quade Harding. She also told me where and how to locate King Fisher’s hideout.” He drew a map and handed it to one man. “Wire this information to the Rangers near Eagle Pass. That should help Major Jones put a stop to his raids.”

  T.J. hated to lie to the Rangers—his friends—but if Carrie Sue was taken to Waco to stand trial with the Stover Gang, she would probably be convicted. He couldn’t allow that to happen to his love. Since they had refused her a pardon, he had no choice but to get her away from there as soon as she was able to travel. He prayed that day would come. He had hoped the Rangers would depart for Waco in the morning with the prisoners and leave him here with Carrie Sue. Then, as soon as she was able to travel, instead of heading for Waco as he promised, he would sneak her to safety in Montana.

  “She’s a special woman, Thad, and I hope she makes it,” Bob told him. “She’s mighty clever, too. Got the drop on me in a flash.”

  The three men discussed their plans and case. Afterwards, the Rangers left him alone with his love.

  William Ferguson arrived for a visit. “How is she, Thad?”

  “Not doing good, Bill. I’m worried.”

  The newspaper man glanced in her direction and said, “I hope she pulls through; I really like her.” Ferguson eyed Carrie Sue again before saying, “I told the other Rangers Harding just left town and, if they hurried, they could overtake him and capture him.” He told T.J. about his interview with the wounded bandit in Stephenville and how he turned the evidence over to the Rangers today. “That outlaw talked his head off. It seems that Harding shot him and left him for dead so he couldn’t expose him. The man was furious, but he was scared. He was afraid no one would believe his account against such a powerful and wealthy rancher. When I told him the law was investigating Harding and he would be arrested soon, he opened up and told me everything.”

  “That’s good, Bill. Thanks for the help; I surely need it.”

  Ferguson took a seat and continued, “Curly James was feeding Quade Harding information, just like you suspected. From what that bandit said, Curly was suppose to join the Stover Gang after he left Tucson. Before he did, he was to wire Harding and warn him to cease those fake raids. That’s how Harding messed up; he didn’t know Curly was dead and Darby was on the move again, so he never got his warning against that Stephenville holdup. You’ll be surprised how many raids they’ve pulled over the years and blamed the Stover Gang; that should help Darby’s defense.”

  “I hope so. He’s not a bad man by choice,” T.J. murmured.

  “I agree,” the gray-haired man concurred. “I hired a good lawyer, one of the best available. He’s to meet Darby in Waco. I’m going there myself to cover the end of this story. I’ve written up all the evidence I’ve gathered and I’ve recorded my conclusions for the lawyer and the authorities. I think those notes will aid Darby’s defense.”

  “If we’re lucky, but I haven’t seen much luck lately.”

  “Don’t get dispirited, Thad. I also sent a telegram to the President and Governor, asking them to pardon her.”

  T.J. muttered with resentment, “It won’t do any good, Bill. I’ve begged them for a pardon, offered to do anything for one. They’ve refused. They’ve made up their minds the answer is no. I was going to sneak her away, but this shooting messes up things for us. When the posse gets back with Harding and his gang, if they don’t leave with all the prisoners before she’s well enough to travel, we’re done for.” He glanced at his injured love and murmured, “If she doesn’t survive, it won’t matter what I do.”

  The two men—new, but good, friends—talked and planned a while longer…

  T.J. watched and tended his love all night, forcing cool water between her dry lips. Not once did she arouse, and his fears increased. For a time, while the ether and her weakness held Carrie Sue entrapped in a dark world, he sneaked away to handle a pressing matter…

  Early the next morning, one of the Rangers stopped by to say they were pulling out to pursue the Harding gang. Harry remarked with concern, “You look terrible, Thad. Did you get any sleep?”

  “Very little. There’s no change. I doubt she’ll survive to stand trial.”

  As he was flexing his stiff body, T.J. looked out the front window. He saw the doctor heading for the hotel. He went to Carrie Sue’s bed and prepared her for this crucial examination.

  When the doctor arrived, he checked the still unconscious woman. He tended her wound with antis
eptic and placed new bandages on it. “No change, son. I’m sorry. It’s real bad when they don’t wake up soon. It could be that ether’s fault; it can be unpredictable at times. I might have used too much,” he said, detecting a faint odor of it on her.

  “You think she’ll pull through, Doc?” he queried, looking very worried.

  “I’m afraid I don’t, son,” he revealed. “I have to go out of town to deliver a stubborn baby. I’ll be back tonight. I’ll check on her then.”

  The doctor reported to the local sheriff as ordered by the man. “She hasn’t regained consciousness; that’s a bad sign. I don’t think she’s going to make it, Sheriff, but that Ranger’s trying his best to save her. If you asked me, I think he has strong feelings for her. He hasn’t left her side for a minute, for the little good it’s doing.”

  The sheriff said, “Maybe it’ll be best if the Texas Flame doesn’t recover to stand trial. Prison’s a bad place for a woman like that.” The lecherous man imagined the beauty as his helpless captive for years.

  “Why didn’t you ride out with the posse?” the doctor inquired.

  “Those Rangers don’t need any help,” the offensive lawman scoffed.

  Darby overheard those tormenting words about his sister’s condition and begged the lawman to let him go see her. The auburn-haired man was furious and distressed when the sheriff laughed and refused. “If she dies and I get loose, I’ll kill you for this,” he threatened.

  T.J. forced water and soup into Carrie Sue again today as he had last night. He wanted her to have the strength to battle for her life.

  William Ferguson came to visit again. He stayed with Carrie Sue while T.J. went to see Darby Stover. The Ranger and the outlaw talked privately for a time, then Thad Jamison returned to the hotel.

  T.J. checked his love and said, “It’s too late to change things, Bill. I’ll handle the arrangements as we agreed. You sure about helping me with this?” When the man nodded, T.J. said, “You stay here until I return, then fetch your things. It’ll be a long, hard day.”

  T.J. went to see the undertaker and ordered a coffin sent to his hotel room in an hour. As he was passing the dressmaker’s store, he halted and went inside. He purchased the beautiful white gown in the window. With a heavy heart, he returned to the hotel room. Lordy, how he hated to do this, but he had no choice.

  Ferguson left to fetch his camera. While he was gone, T.J. put the white dress on Carrie Sue and brushed her tawny gold mane. The coffin was delivered. When William returned, he and T.J. placed a lovely quilt in the bottom and a pillow. They put Carrie Sue inside. Ferguson placed flowers from his yard beneath her overlapping hands. T.J. straightened her white lace dress and flaming hair.

  “All right, Bill, do what you must.”

  Ferguson set up his camera and took pictures of the grim sight. Tomorrow, his stories and pictures of the ill-fated Stover Gang would fill the San Angelo Tribune. “I have most of the articles written, Thad, and I’m going to re-run a few that I’ve already printed. I’ll prepare the one on her death today. I’m also getting pictures of the gang in jail and taking their statements this afternoon. I’ll go fetch the sheriff so he can bear witness to her demise. I’ll see you at my house tonight. Make yourself at home there until the Rangers and posse return.”

  After the newspaper man departed, T.J. stood over the coffin and stared at the lovely face of the Texas Flame. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, love,” he murmured, then bent forward to kiss her.

  The sheriff arrived and looked into the coffin. “A real shame, she was a beauty. You burying her here?”

  “Nope, in Waco where I live. I’m having her delivered to William Ferguson’s home until we pull out of town. I don’t want curious folks gaping at her on display. If they want to see her, they can buy one of Bill’s papers tomorrow. He took pictures earlier to print. I want you to cuff Darby Stover and send him over with two deputies. Any man deserves to tell his sister good-bye, even an outlaw.”

  The sheriff argued, but had to obey the Ranger. Two deputies arrived shortly with a handcuffed Darby.

  The bandit leader gazed at his sister a long time and kissed her cheek before murmuring, “Good-bye, Sis, I’ll never forget you. This is all my fault and I’m sorry. I love you, Carrie Sue.”

  At the jail, one of the boys asked, “Is she really dead, boss?”

  Darby leaned his head against the stone wall and said, “Yes.”

  The coldhearted sheriff remarked, “Don’t worry, boys; you’ll all be joining her soon when you swing from ropes in Waco.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Thursday morning, the doctor came to Ferguson’s home. “I got back to town too late last night to check on her. I saw the paper this morning. You sure she was dead, not just in deep unconsciousness?”

  “I’ve seen plenty of people die, Doc. She had no heartbeat, no pulse in her throat. I put a mirror to her nose and mouth to check for breathing, and nothing happened.”

  “I didn’t expect her to make it, not after staying unconscious so long.” The doctor glanced at the sealed coffin, then at the disheveled lawman. “She was real special to you, so I’m mighty sorry she’s gone.”

  Friday afternoon, the Rangers and posse returned to San Angelo with a few prisoners, but Quade Harding and others had been slain during a violent shoot-out on the trail. After filing their reports, the three Rangers went to William Ferguson’s home to see Thad Jamison.

  Harry related the news about Quade Harding and his gang. “We’ll take the others back to Waco with us on Monday. We plan to rest here a couple of days.” He shifted uneasily. “We heard about her passing on, Thad, and we’re real sorry. What are your plans?”

  T.J. took a hammer and loosened the coffin lid. He let the lawmen glance at Carrie Sue Stover before he nailed it shut again. He dropped into a chair as if soul-tired. His hair was mussed and he hadn’t shaven for days. From the look of his wrinkled garments, he hadn’t bothered to bathe or change them lately. “I’ll head out with you on Monday morning. I’m taking her back to Waco to bury it so she’ll be near me. That’s the only place I spend much time.” He sighed deeply before adding, “I’m thinking of quitting the Rangers. Playing T.J. Rogue gets as many innocent people killed as her brother’s gang did. Besides, after she was shot, we blew my cover, so I won’t be any more use to the Rangers or the President as T.J. Rogue.”

  “The Rangers still need Thad Jamison,” Harry told him.

  T.J. ran his fingers threw his ebony hair, then stroked his stubble. “I doubt they’ll be too happy that I exposed myself on this case. I was ordered to remain undercover. After the trials, I think I’ll find me a quiet town somewhere and settle down as a town marshal.”

  “Why don’t you get cleaned up and join us for supper and a few drinks?” another of the Rangers asked. “You can use both, friend.”

  T.J. stood. He walked to the coffin and placed his hands on it. “Thanks, Bob, but I prefer to stay here and guard her until we leave town. I need to keep the curiosity seekers away. I won’t let anyone gape at her or steal souvenirs. You know how folks behave when a famous person gets killed.”

  “Yep, I’m afraid I do. Will you be all right, Thad?”

  He nodded. “I was going to marry this girl when her pardon came through. I just need some time alone to adjust.”

  “We understand,” said Harry.

  As they were leaving, William Ferguson returned home. Harry said, “You did a fine job on the Stovers’ lives and on the Harding case. You want to report on King Fisher for your paper?”

  “You have news on him already?” William inquired.

  “Yep. The Rangers and Army joined forces and attacked that hideout she told us about. They didn’t get King Fisher, but they sent him on the run. Good thing is, his gang is scattered, what’s left. Fisher won’t be terrorizing that area any longer, thanks to Miss Stover.”

  “Why don’t we have supper and you can give me all the facts on Harding and Fisher?” Ferguson sugg
ested. “The restaurant at the hotel has a fine cook. When we’re done, I’ll bring Thad something to eat.”

  The four men left and T.J. bolted the door. Again, he checked all the windows and doors to make certain they were locked. He went to the coffin and unsealed it. He lifted Carrie Sue and carried her back to the bed. After removing the white dress, he checked her healing wound and put on her nightgown. He hoped the ether would wear off soon and he wouldn’t have to use it again on her. Yet, he was glad it put her under deep enough to fool everyone into believing she was dead.

  He murmured to the soundly sleeping woman, “I know you’re getting tired of that foul ether, love, but I have to convince everyone you’re dead. I just hope Doc won’t miss what little I stole from his office the other night or figure out my ruse. ‘Course, he’s got no reason to mistrust a Texas Ranger.” He stroked her hair and kissed the tip of her nose. “We’ll be leaving Monday, love. Hank will have everything ready for us in Waco. Just as soon as the trials are over, we can sneak away without suspicion. But if I don’t go there and retire, someone might realize what I’ve done and come after us. We’ll be far away and safe soon, love. We’ll get married and be happy forever.”

  As he tucked her in, he continued chatting to himself, “You don’t have to worry about Darby suffering over your death; I told him my wild plan before I pulled it off. He played his part good and he’s glad you’ll be safe.” He checked her wrist and saw it was doing fine now.

  T.J. washed Carrie Sue’s face and hands. He put the flowers in water and sat them near the bed. She had aroused only a few times since being shot—slipping in and out of consciousness—but not enough to comprehend what was happening. Her wound was looking better and no fever or infection had attacked her body, thanks to Kale’s prompt treatment. She had swallowed the soup and water each time he had forced it into her mouth, and she was getting stronger.