The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  Martin? She’d missed him these last two days and hoped he’d return to them soon, but somehow she felt responsible. Did their talk drive him away? “Well, I’m sorry, but Trent took Lilly for a ride and I haven’t seen Blake.”

  “Good to hear his horse is better. Too much ugly in the world.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” She herself was hidden away, protected from the ugly she’d known.

  Walt looked up into the sky. “Well, I bes’ be gettin’. I might make it back before the heavens pour down.” He tilted his cowboy hat in her direction. “Ya take care.”

  “Thank you, Walt. Hope you stay dry.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The wagon pulled down the path, but Rosalind’s view focused beyond the direction Walt was heading. Her arms encircled her waist. “God, please bring them home quickly.”

  “See, I told you Midnight was better.” Trent headed toward home. He’d seen the clouds rolling in, but Lilly and Rosalind so enjoyed the fresh wildflowers they collected every few days, he couldn’t help searching out a bouquet. He loved seeing Rosalind happy. A surge of thankfulness filled his thoughts just as a flash of movement caught in the corner of his eye.

  Trent slowed his horse and turned. Bile rose within his throat. In the distance, riders pushed his stock to the fence. He began to count. His men wouldn’t ... Blood pounding in his ears, he reached for his gun, then caught Lilly patting the horse’s mane. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t endanger the child. If only she wasn’t with him. Angry, he shook his head and turned his horse toward home.

  A shot rang out, and Trent’s body jolted forward in pain, the flowers in his hand scattering in the stiff wind.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Where were they? Rosalind paced the porch as the rain fell in sheets, the wind howling past her face. She wished Martin were home. He’d help her look for Trent and Lilly.

  She pushed her hair back from her cheek as odd thumping sounds hit the house. Pellets of ice fell to her feet. She looked toward the heavens. God, please, bring them home.

  Within the wind, Rosalind thought she heard a child’s cry. She squinted into the gloom past the outbuildings into the fields. Nothing. Then she heard it again, closer this time. Lilly! Ice pelted her as she ran into the rain. “Lilly! Where are you?” she screamed, her heart pounding.

  A lone rider crossed the dirt path. Lilly screamed out in terror, her face red, “He’s dead!”

  Rosalind ran to her and grabbed the reins. Lilly’s dress was soaked in crimson. Sharp, piercing fear stabbed her. She dragged Lilly from the saddle and searched for wounds. “Are you hurt? Where’s Trent? Where is he?” She touched her hair and face, assuring she was unharmed. Rosalind squeezed her within her arms.

  “Blood. I saw it. He told me the horse would take me home. Then he fell. He hit the ground. I tried to stop the horse. I couldn’t. He’s dead!”

  “No, Lilly. He’s not. Just like Trent’s horse. Trent isn’t dead either.” She prayed for her words to be true. “Where did he fall?”

  Sobs racked Lilly’s small form.

  “You have to tell me. Trent can’t stay out in this weather. Where did he fall, Lilly? Please!”

  She cried in gasping breaths. “By...the...beginning...of the...fence.”

  “Listen to me.” She rushed on, mind swirling. “Go in the house. Change out of these wet clothes. I don’t want you catching cold. I’ll be right back.”

  “You promise?” Her teeth chattered.

  “Yes, I promise. As soon as I find Trent. Now hurry and change.” Rosalind kissed her cheek and sent her on her way.

  Holding the horn of the saddle and slipping her foot in the stirrup, she pulled herself up onto the horse. She took the reins and let out a breath. “God, direct my path.”

  The rain poured harder as she rode toward the fence line. Lightning crashed and she jumped. “Lord,” she whispered, holding the reins tighter, her nails digging into her palm. “Help me find him.” The horse slowed to a walk. What was he doing? She remembered Trent telling her horses were directed by touch. She pushed her calves against the beast’s body, but he didn’t move in the direction she wanted and he didn’t speed up.

  Rosalind scanned the ground from left to right. Nothing. She wiped blinding rain from her eyes. She was at the fence. How could she have missed him? Turning around, she called out, “Trent!” They passed the fence once again before she saw a dark form on the ground.

  Hopping down, Rosalind ran to his side and dropped to her knees. Lilly had said there was blood. She’d seen the girl’s dress, but there was none on him. “Trent.” She rolled him over and saw it. Blood. Coming from his shoulder. “Trent, look at me. You have to wake up! I’m not going to let you die on me! I love you.” Her breath caught.

  A soft moan formed on Trent’s lips as his horse sidled over to them.

  “Help me get you onto Midnight. Hurry. You’re not safe.”

  She glanced around quickly but saw nothing. Struggling to assist Trent stand, Rosalind found a strength that could have only come from above. Somehow, she managed to get him onto his horse. She stuck her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up behind him. He leaned against her. “Hang on.”

  Lilly had been right. Trent’s horse did know where to go. As they entered the clearing, she felt Trent’s weight shift. He was slipping. “Just a few more minutes! Hold on!” She tugged on him with all her might and managed to keep him upright until they reached the edge of the porch. Before she could formulate a plan to get him down, he slipped from her grasp, and her heart fell as his body hit the rain-slick dirt.

  She didn’t know how she did it, but she climbed down from the saddle and struggled to get Trent to the house. Once on the porch, her strength gave way under the weight of his body, and she stumbled, breaking his fall. She moaned as pain shot through her leg. She had to find help and quickly. Tears filled her eyes, though not from the pain. If something happened to Trent while she sought help ... No, she wouldn’t think such thoughts. The fear of death would not claim her as it once had. God was with her now. God was with Trent.

  She struggled from under him and hobbled into the house. As she took the stairs, she bit her lip against the throb in her leg. Rosalind entered the room and found Lilly sitting on the floor, wearing dry clothes and rocking her stuffed rabbit. “Lilly, Trent’s outside on the porch. I couldn’t carry him inside.” She ripped the blankets off the bed. “I’m covering him with these blankets since he’s all wet, then I’ve got to find Matthew.” She cringed as she knelt. “I’ll be right back. Matthew can help. Stay inside. Will you do that for me?”

  Lilly nodded.

  She pressed a firm kiss on Lilly’s forehead and turned to rush down the stairs. Once at his side, she covered him. “If you can hear me, I’m going for help.”

  The storm had begun to pass as Rosalind rode hard to the men’s bunkhouse in the opposite direction of their home. Once there, she flung the door open. “Hello! Anyone here?”

  Pete entered through the back door into the main room, eyes dark with concern. “What’s happened? Are you bleeding?” The young man placed a hand on her arm.

  She glanced down. Trent’s blood stained her dress. “It’s Trent. I need Matthew. Please, hurry!”

  Pete stuck his head out the door and hollered, “Matthew!”

  Matthew hurried into the bunkhouse, and when he saw her his eyes widened. “Rosalind, what’s happened?”

  Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped them away. “Oh, Matthew. Trent was shot while riding with Lilly. They were heading back from the direction of the stream. He needs the doctor.” Rosalind glanced at her red-tinted fingers and feared she might swoon. She swallowed against the urge, following Matthew and Pete outside.

  Pete’s voice rose. “Matthew, there’s something you should know. I didn’t think much about it at the time.”

  “What is it?” Matthew asked as he leapt into the saddle.

  “This might be nothing ...
but I saw Martin in the field the other day. The same spot where our other longhorns had gone missing.”

  “Stay with Rosalind. Keep her safe.” Matthew yanked the reins and spurred his horse on.

  As Rosalind and Pete rode back to the Eastons’, Pete’s words painted a picture she couldn’t believe. Not Martin. Not her friend.

  Near the house, Blake’s horse stood by the spot where she’d left Trent, Matthew’s alongside his.

  Pistol drawn, Pete covered the barn while Rosalind entered the house and found Blake and Matthew hunched over Trent on the floor. Blake sliced Trent’s shirt with his knife and dropped the wet garment next to him. “It looks deep. I need something to stop the bleeding.”

  Rosalind cringed. Pain pulsated up her leg as she rushed to their room and grabbed one of her old dresses, then dragged it back to the living room. Blake fisted his pocketknife, sliced the dress into strips, then placed a wad of cloth against his shoulder.

  “Help me lift him to check the wound,” Blake said to Matthew, as Rosalind placed a hand along Trent’s clammy skin.

  “He’s soaked through.” Rosalind moaned. “Shouldn’t we change his clothes so he doesn’t become ill?”

  “It might be best.” Matthew touched his skin and the hole on the opposite side of his shoulder. “There’s no exit wound.”

  “Will he be all right?” she asked.

  Regret shown in Matthew’s brown eyes. “He’s unconscious. I think he’s lost a lot of blood.”

  They laid Trent back down. Blake finally said, “Pray there’s no damage inside, but most importantly that no infection sets in. We need to try to keep that from happening.”

  What did that mean? Would her husband live? Rosalind’s stomach heaved, and tears filled her eyes. She needed to check on Lilly. She pointed to the stairs. “I need to—”

  Matthew placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

  Rosalind looked at her husband’s pale face and swallowed, battling to compose her emotions before seeing Lilly. She took slow steps up the stairs where the child held Mr. Sanders in an embrace, rocking it much like Trent did when he held her.

  Lord, please don’t take him away. Her heart was breaking at the thought of a life without Trent. Once again someone she loved would die before her eyes. How could she endure losing him?

  She was weary. But hadn’t Trent told her she didn’t have to be strong any longer, that she only needed to trust God? Hadn’t she learned this lesson? She was weak, but through Christ she was strong, and He wouldn’t leave her.

  With a deep breath, Rosalind knelt at the rocker. “Lilly, you’re a brave little girl.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “No, sweetie. Trent’s alive. I know this might be hard to understand, but when someone becomes sick or hurt, it doesn’t mean they’ll die. It just means they need extra help getting well. I know you’re worried about your mama, but she had to go to the doctor to get well. That’s why I mentioned Trent’s horse earlier. You thought he was going to die, but he’s healthy now, healthy enough for you to ride him today. He even helped me find Trent.” Rosalind fingered Lilly’s hair. “There’s some pie left from yesterday. Would you like some?”

  She nodded.

  “All right. Let’s go down to the kitchen, and I’ll cut you a slice.” Entering the kitchen, Lilly stared toward the living room. Blake and Matthew blocked their view, and Rosalind was thankful as she masked her worry. She pulled out the pie, cut a section, placed it on a plate, and set it in front of Lilly, who sat at the table. “Here you go, sweetie.” Rosalind sunk into her own chair and closed her eyes for a second to focus a moment longer on the child instead of the man she loved in the next room. She took Lilly’s small hands within hers, enjoying the warmth they provided.

  “Rose, are you cold?”

  “No, sweetie. Why?”

  “You’re shivering.”

  Rosalind looked at her hands, and they were indeed trembling. “Maybe I am a bit chilled since my dress is still wet from being caught in the rain earlier. Why don’t we pray for Trent?”

  Lilly nodded so Rosalind bowed her head. “Dear Lord, we come to You because you are the Good Shepherd who tends to Your sheep. We ask You to heal Trent and for his strength to return quickly. And Lord, we pray for Lilly’s mama. Please heal her. Bring her parents to Graham safely. We thank You for Your tender care. Amen.” Rosalind rose, placing a kiss on top of Lilly’s head. “I’m going to check on Trent. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Rosalind walked into the living room and stood over Blake. He’d used her dress as a sling. Other strips wrapped around Trent’s shoulder. “How is he?”

  “He’s in and out. His pulse is normal. It’s the best we can hope for right now. I need to get the doctor. Where’s Martin?”

  I wish I knew. What Pete said had to be wrong. Martin would never be involved in anything like he suggested. “Haven’t seen him since he left. Said he’d be back, but Walt came by and mentioned he was staying in town.”

  Blake took a heavy breath. “Do you know what happened here?”

  “I don’t. I was waiting for them on the porch during the storm when I thought I heard a child’s cry. Shortly after, Lilly came up on Trent’s horse, alone. She’d left with Trent hours ago.” She bit her lip as she stared down at Trent. His face looked so pale.

  “We’ll need to ask Lilly.” Blake took a layer of bloodied fabric from Trent’s chest.

  “I know.” She met his gaze. “I need to change out of these wet clothes. I’ll be back.”

  Blake and Matthew both nodded.

  Once in the bedroom, Rosalind fought back sobs as she dressed. How many times had she prayed a prayer for healing and God never answered? She shook the doubts from her head. “Please, Lord,” she whispered. “Help me to trust You.”

  Minutes later she stood in the corner of the kitchen listening to Lilly tell Blake what she remembered of the shooting.

  “Did you see anyone in the field while you were riding?” Blake asked.

  “No,” she said, pressing Mr. Sanders against her cheek. “But I know why Martin hasn’t come back to cook.”

  Blake glanced at her quickly, then leaned closer to Lilly. The stilled silence in the room seemed to lengthen by the minute and drew their attention even more. “Lilly, why do you think Martin hasn’t come back?”

  “Because he doesn’t have his horse. I saw it in the field.”

  Rosalind gasped as her hand flew to her lips. She hurried from the kitchen and stood in the middle of the living room. Martin couldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t hurt us.

  “Rose ... Rose ...”

  Rosalind sat up in her bed and touched Trent’s skin. It burned with fever. “I’m here.”

  “Rose ...”

  She kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back with water and a towel.” She hurried down to the kitchen and grabbed what she needed.

  Matthew met her near the stairwell. “Is he all right?”

  “He has a fever. The doctor said this might happen, but I’d hoped...”

  “Thankfully the doc took the bullet out easily. If you get worn out, I can take over.”

  “Thank you.” She climbed the steps and entered the bedroom. Soaking the small towel in water, Rosalind placed it over his face and eyes. She drew the covers back, releasing the heat captured within the quilt. Taking the other cloth she’d brought, she soaked it in the cool water before patting his chest.

  “Rose.”

  “I’m here, Trenton. I love you.”

  Rosalind awoke with a start the next morning and sat upright. Glover had found her, shot Trent, and forced her to watch him die.

  Her stomach tightened as she glanced at her sleeping husband. “It’s only a dream,” she reminded herself in a whisper, climbing out of bed. After getting dressed, she readied herself for whatever the day held and descended the stairs.

  The day started early with Martin gone. Fixing breakfast was almost comforting as she remembered times sh
e and her sister had cooked together with their mother. Oh, how she missed them both!

  How were William and Anna? She tried to imagine how they’d grown. How she missed holding them in her arms. Then Glover came to mind once again. Fear always seemed to rip her happiness from her. She closed her eyes. Please, Lord, take it away. Help me to trust You.

  She opened her eyes to find Matthew staring at her. “Good morning,” he said with a slight smile. “You’re up early. I thought you’d be sleeping.”

  “Too much to do. Besides, I’m finishing up the biscuits, then I plan to head outside for some eggs.”

  “I’ll get those before I do the milking.” He grabbed a basket off a shelf. “How’s Trent?”

  “He still has a fever.”

  Matthew’s face fell.

  Rosalind continued slicing the dough, not wanting to think too hard on the fact that fever killed. Her mother included. She finally said, “Do you think Lilly could have been mistaken? It seems wrong, don’t you think? Martin couldn’t have done this.” She placed the biscuits in the oven. Despite the radiating heat, she shuddered at the thought.

  “I wish I knew where he was, but sometimes men have their own ideas. Sometimes their choices affect only themselves, but other times their choices affect those who love them. I’ve wrestled with telling you, but me and Blake think you need to be told. For your safety. Martin’s been seen in town with two men. Last we heard a fight was involved, and I keep coming back to Trent getting shot. Martin is nowhere to be found, and those men have something to do with who’s stealing the stock. Blake’s out looking for him now.”

  “Is that why Pete and another cowhand are hanging around here?”

  Matthew smiled. “Noticed, have you? It’s for the best. Until Trent’s healed.”

  “I appreciate you men looking out for us. So ... does Blake have any other leads?”

  Matthew went to the pegs by the door and snatched his coat. “Why don’t I milk the cow and get you those eggs? We can talk more later.”