by Barbara Goss
The following morning, she walked down the one street in Victoria until she found their farm, knocked on the door, and was warmly greeted.
“Why Elsa, how nice to see you. Won’t you come in? Would you like some tea?” Lydia offered.
“Please,” Elsa said in English, having recognized the word tea and that it had been used in a question.
“You speak English!”
Elsa used her thumb and index finger to form the hand gesture for ‘a little’.
“I'll get the tea,” Lydia said as she scurried toward what must be her kitchen.
Elsa had met Geoffrey and Lydia when they'd first arrived. Lydia had come to their house with a pot of stew the day they'd moved in, and Henry had been there to interpret.
“Here we are,” she said, setting down the tea tray.
Elsa watched Lydia pour the tea and tried to think of the words Clara had taught her. She knew to use her hands while she spoke to make her words more understandable.
Elsa touched her chest. “I,” she said. She put her hand to her heart. “I Want to…um…make more English words.” She touched her mouth. “To speak.”
“You want me to teach you English? I’d love to,” Lydia said. “If you come here every day while my son is napping, I’ll work with you.”
“Thank you!” Elsa said.
Elsa had one other thing she needed to do: she had to get a message to Clara. She paced her bedroom trying to think of how she might accomplish that. Maybe Lydia could write it and she could send it by messenger to Clara.
That’s what she’d do.
Chapter 9
Rance ate his breakfast in silence. Since Elsa couldn’t speak English, most of their meals had been silent, but he still missed looking up and seeing her smile at him. Clara had been good about not talking about Elsa, though he knew she'd missed Elsa, too. Elsa was gone. He was just thankful he’d waited to consummate the union because if he'd missed her now, he couldn’t imagine how much he’d miss her if they’d been more intimate.
The silence was maddening. Even Clara was quieter now.
“I’ll see you at lunch,” Rance said as he stood to leave. He placed his wide-brimmed hat on and walked out of the house and to the stables.
Rance was working in the corral closest to the house when he happened to look up and see a man approaching the front door of his house. He watched as the man walked the horse circles. He saw Clara open the door and the man hand her something, walk back to his horse, and ride away.
That was curious. Someone had sent a message. He waited to see if Clara would bring the message out to him, but when she didn’t, he had to assume the message had been for her.
He forgot about it and continued working with the black stallion. The horse was becoming more docile now, allowing Rance to lead him around the corral with a blanket on his back. Rance patted the horse’s mane gently and removed the rope and blanket. He patted the horse’s rump lightly and the horse galloped to his stall in the stable. He knew Manny had put fresh hay out for the horse while Rance had walked him. The stallion had been hungry enough to do exactly what they’d trained him to do. Rance waved to Manny and went into the house for lunch.
Clara usually made a pile of sandwiches to put them out for the men each day at noon. He passed her as she walked toward the stables with the tray.
“Your lunch is on the table, Rance,” she said.
He went in, sat down, and helped himself to a ham sandwich on homemade bread. Clara had left a jar of pickles on the table, too.
Clara came back in and said, “I need to talk to you, Rance.”
She sounded so serious, a feeling of dread flowed through him. He hoped the message wasn’t news that would wind up taking her away from him. He’d already lost Elsa, he couldn’t lose Clara, too. Somehow, he got the feeling that Clara blamed him for Elsa’s leaving.
Clara sat next to him. “You need to go into Hays today and change your will.”
“What?” he asked. “I was going to do that, but I’ve just been so busy.”
Clara handed him the message she’d received and he opened it and read:
Dear Clara,
Please urge Rance to change his will so that, if he should die, Elsa does not inherit a thing. This is important, and his life depends on it.
A friend.
Rance turned the letter over as if looking for a clue as to who had written it. “Did the messenger say who had sent it?”
“No, he just handed it to me,” Clara said. “When I think of the day you were shot, it makes me think you should pay attention to it and do as it says.”
“I’d planned to do it, but didn’t think there was any hurry,” he said. “If Elsa began annulment proceedings, it could take months. Until it’s final, I’m still married to her.”
“I would do it today,” she said.
“All right, but it’s driving me crazy wondering who sent it.”
“Just do it, Rance.”
“Who else would care?” Rance thought aloud. “Certainly not Ernst Schuster. He’d be happy if I died and left it all to Elsa.”
Clara gasped. “That’s it! He’s the one who shot at you.”
“You might be right. This be someone who knows what he’s up to, warning me.”
“Just do it and think later,” Clara said.
“I’ll go this afternoon.”
On his trip to town, he couldn’t help but think about Elsa. Would she have warned him? He doubted she’d want him to take her off his will, unless she knew something he didn’t. Who else would care? It had to be Elsa.
Rance sat across from his lawyer, Judd Banner. “I need to change my will again,” he said.
“I can do that. Let me find it.” Banner walked to his filing cabinet, pulled out a drawer, and flipped through the files until he found the one he was searching for. “Now, what change would you like to make?”
“The beneficiary is my wife, now, and I’d like to change it back to my brother, Peter,” Rance said.
“I can do that,” Judd said.
“It was sort of an arranged marriage and it didn’t work out. She might be filing for an annulment. I’m not sure how long it will take to go through, but I thought it best to change it now. Her father's a bit greedy, and that’s putting it mildly.”
“How strange,” Judd murmured. “A woman claiming to be your wife came in not too long ago wanting to know if you’d changed your will again since you married.”
“Did she speak German?” Rance asked, alert and wide-eyed.
The lawyer stared at him as if in surprise. “As a matter of fact, she did. She spoke through an interpreter. I hope it was all right to tell them you hadn’t change it.”
“It’s fine.” He couldn’t hide his smile, though.
The lawyer handed him the paper. Rance signed it and stood. “Two dollars?” he asked, reaching into his pocket for the coin.
“Yes, that’s right,” Banner said, taking the coin. “I’m happy to change it for you again, should you re-marry,” he winked.
As he rode home, he wondered why Elsa would go to his lawyer and ask that particular question. Did she want to be sure before warning him? What was going on? He’d thought about riding out to see her and ask her himself, but what good would that do when no one in the house spoke English? His father probably would refuse him entry, anyway.
He wished he'd never kissed her because now he missed her more than he cared to admit. He’d even lost his desire to speak to the young widow at church. Whenever he looked at any other woman, all he could see was Elsa’s face; she haunted him.
Was it possible that she cared for him as much as he cared for her, and that she'd left to protect him? He’d like to think so.
If that were the case, how would he ever get her back?
Elsa awoke, dressed, and went downstairs to seek out her father. Elsa felt better having sent the message to Clara. Even though she had no idea if Rance had taken the advice and changed his will, she had to make s
ure her father knew she was no longer Rance’s beneficiary. It was the last step she could take to protect him. Then, maybe, her father wouldn't insist she go back to him. He was safer without her.
Her father’s study was empty, but a feeling of unease filled Elsa as she noticed his gun, usually hanging on the wall, was missing.
Elsa ran to find her mother and found her in the kitchen. “Where’s Father?” she asked.
“He said he was going hunting,” she said.
Elsa turned to go upstairs and noticed his hunting jacket still hanging on the hook.
Elsa had a strange feeling or premonition; she turned and ran toward the stables. She saddled the horse she’d borrowed from Rance and slowly trotted toward his ranch. She hoped she'd find her father and tell him that she wouldn’t get a cent if he killed Rance‒if that was where he'd gone. He might really be hunting, but she had a feeling if he was, he was hunting Rance. He’d sounded that desperate the other day.
Rance finished his breakfast, thanked Clara, and went outside. That day, he'd planned to put a saddle on the stallion‒that he’d named Grover, after the current president. He’d been making friends with him daily, giving him carrots, sugar, and apples every time he visited. Today he had an apple in his pocket. Grover loved apples.
He stood by the stall and Grover ignored him as usual, stood with his hind end to him, and nibbled on hay. Rance pulled the apple from his pocket and the horse immediately turned and walked over to him, snorting loudly. Rance held the apple away from the horse and petted his nose. He spoke to him gently, assuring him he was a friend, then he handed the apple to Grover, which was gone in two huge bites. Usually after eating the treat, Grover turned away from him, but today he didn’t. He stayed, as if expecting another treat. He even nudged Rance’s arm.
Rance had spent the last few months teaching the stallion riding signals while tied to the fence. He’d only just recently managed to put a blanket on him. Now, he’d planned to try the smallest, lightest saddle he had, but he wouldn’t try to mount him yet. First, he had to get him used to wearing the saddle. Each day he’d put a larger one on him. The current saddle weighed about fourteen pounds.
He led Grover out of the stall and took him out to the corral, where he tied him to the fence post. He then went back into the stable to get the bit and saddle. He walked over and began to insert the bit, but Grover wasn’t having any of it—he snorted and kept moving away, but he didn’t buck or rear.
Rance sighed, leaped over the corral fence, and leaned against it. He’d give Grover time to calm down. While he waited, he took the breeding list out from his pocket to see what his next job that day would be, when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He swung to his left and froze in place when he saw Elsa running toward him, dressed in her old housemaid clothing and kerchief, waving her arms wildly as she ran. Rance opened his mouth to speak, just as she ran up and threw her arms around his neck. At first, he was elated to see her and hold her again, but that feeling was short-lived, as at about the same time she had thrown herself at him, a shot rang out. Although he was, at first, so pleased to see her that the shot didn’t register, he soon knew he had to get her out of harm’s way. He pulled her down to the ground and waited, but he didn’t hear any more shots.
Elsa lay sprawled beside him. She wasn’t moving, and her eyes were closed. That was when Rance realized she’d been shot in the back—to protect him! She’d known someone was going to shoot him. He eased her over and viewed the bloody hole in the back of her dress. Regardless of the danger, he picked her up and ran to the house with her in his arms.
Clara must have heard the shot, for she already had the door open.
“What happened?” she asked, panicked.
“Go for the doctor, quick!” Rance yelled, moving past Clara and up the stairs to his bedroom, where he laid her down on his bed, face down. He quickly removed her apron and then her dress. Her camisole had thin straps and he slid them off her shoulders and pulled it down far enough to view the wound. He worried about the wound and broke out in a sweat of anxiety when he saw it was square in the center of her back. That meant her lungs could be pierced, or the arteries to her heart could be damaged and she could easily die!
All he could do until the doctor came was try to stop the bleeding. He grabbed a towel from the dresser and put it on her wound. He then took one of his string ties from the drawer and tied it in place by looping it around her body and tying it near the wound.
Elsa groaned and moved her head to the side to breathe easier. Rance knelt down beside the bed and gently pushed the hair from her face. “Hang in there, Elsa. The doctor is on the way.”
Elsa looked at him with half-opened eyes and said slowly, in English, “I love you, husband.”
Rance was stunned by her words. He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her as well, because he felt it strongly. The moment he’d seen her running toward him he'd known he'd loved her.
She closed her eyes and fell unconscious again before he had to chance to tell her.
Chapter 10
Rance refused to leave the room when Dr. Miller asked him and Clara to leave so he could examine Elsa.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Rance said.
“All right, but be quiet while I listen to her vital signs, please.”
Rance sat down on a chair near the bed and held Elsa’s lily-white hand. He felt another hot flash as the doctor looked at her wound, frowned, shook his head, and covered her back up.
“This is bad,” he said. “I’m afraid to dig the slug out in such a dangerous area. I could puncture a lung or tear an artery going to her heart. A shotgun slug is just a small ball, not a full bullet.”
“Can you leave it in there?” Rance asked.
“No, I’m afraid not. I wish there were enough time to get a specialist in to do it. I’m afraid to even try.” The doctor packed up his bag to leave.
“You can’t go and leave her like this! She’ll die!” Rance said, feeling the blood rush to his head again.
“I’m going into town to consult with the other doctor in Hays. Maybe between us we can figure out what to do.”
Rance felt two emotions just then: anger and fear. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I mainly treat illnesses. The other doctor has treated more gunshot injuries than I have,” he said.
“Weren’t you the doctor who treated my arm wound?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t serious,” he said. “That was child’s play.”
Rance could do nothing but sigh. “Please hurry and get the other doctor, then.”
The doctor left the room.
Clara came in and asked Rance to wait outside so she could get Elsa into a nightgown. He obeyed. When Clara was finished, she opened the door and he came back to sit by her bed.
After Clara left him alone with Elsa, Rance put his head down on the mattress beside her and cried, something he hadn’t done since his mother had died, years ago. He slipped to his knees and prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, please, I need a miracle. I've never asked you for much, and I usually accept my lot in life, but not this time, Lord. This woman risked her own life to save mine. She doesn’t know that I love her in return. We never even had a chance to unite in marriage as man and wife. Please, Lord, please spare this woman. I ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, who I believe died for my sins. Amen.”
Just as he was getting to his feet, Clara peeked in. “How is she?”
Rance shook his head and tears rolled down his face. “Pray, Clara. Pray.”
Later that evening, another doctor, a younger man, stepped into the room and introduced himself to Rance. “I’m Dr. Brent Shannon. I happened to be passing through Hays on my way to Kansas City from Hunter’s Grove when Doc Miller halted me.” He spoke as he walked over to Elsa and began to examine her. “I just happen to be a surgeon from Kansas City. I was visiting my mother in Hunter’s Grove and I stopped at the livery in Hays to change horses when Miller appro
ached me. He must have gotten word I was in town and rushed over to tell me about your wife.” He stopped talking while he listened to Elsa’s heart and took her pulse.
“Are you a praying man, Mr. Balcomb?” the doctor asked.
“I am, and I’ve been praying for a miracle,” Rance said.
“I think you just got it,” he said. “I noticed she hasn’t lost a lot of blood. That’s a good sign. Did you put pressure on it or just bandage it?”
“I put a bit of pressure on it, but the blood wasn’t pouring out much, so I just put the bandage on it.”
“That’s the best news for me to hear. Had it punctured a major artery, blood would have spurted out all over.” The doctor carefully removed the bandage and then turned to Rance. “You look a bit pale‒are you all right?”
“I’ll be all right when my wife is,” Rance said. “Can you help her?”
“I’m fairly sure I can, but I need help, and I’m not sure you’re the person to do it. Would you mind stepping outside to let your housekeeper assist me?” Shannon asked.
Rance didn’t want to leave Elsa. “Why?” he asked.
“Because her life may depend on it, and I need someone to help me that won’t be affected emotionally. It could get quite…um…involved,” Shannon said.
“All right. I’ll be just outside that door, but if she awakens, I really need to see her. I have to tell her something important,” Rance said. “I’ll send Clara in.”
Reluctantly, after taking a long, hard look at Elsa, he left the room and sent Clara in to help the doctor.
Clara walked into the bedroom with cloths, whiskey, and hot water. Before she closed the door on him she said, “I’ll let you know how she is the minute I know something.”