Chapter 17

A man or woman should have a proper burial. That was the central agreement over breakfast.

“Not much left,” one observed. “That Injun, what do we do about her carcass?”

“She’s still alive,” Josh said. “And the term you’re looking for is body, Rex. She’s a person, not a carcass.”

“I’ll not dig a hole for the heathen.”

“When it’s proper, I’ll dig her grave.” Josh met Copper’s eyes. “Ladies, we’ll be pulling out tomorrow morning. Ready the wagons.”

Copper caught the wagon master as the men manned shovels and picks and headed for the fort. “What about me?”

“Mike’s taking you back to Thunder Ridge.”

She paused. Back to Thunder Ridge. Once those words would have brought euphoria; now they merely stung.

“Just like that?”

He nodded, muscle working tightly in his left jaw. “Just like that.”

“You’re not going to take me?” She knew he had little choice in the matter. She couldn’t continue on the wagon train with no purpose, even if she weren’t a cripple. She’d be a burden to Adele and Sadie during the hundreds of miles of rough land ahead before they reached Colorado Springs. She couldn’t push or shove a wagon out of mud. She could barely manage her meals. Nobody wanted or needed extra baggage for the coming weeks, and that’s what she’d become. Surplus baggage.

Whirling, she started back to the wagon, willing back tears. What did she expect from Redlin? Did she expect that because he had lowered his guard for the briefest of moments last night, today he’d be a different man? He’d been bone-tired last night. He might not even recall those tender moments she’d taken to heart.

“Copper.”

His stern tone made her pause, but she refused to look at him. She couldn’t. What if she broke into tears and proved what a hopeless ninny she was? “What?”

“Give me my other choice.”

Closing her eyes, reality sank home. He didn’t have a choice. His loyalty lay with the wagon train and getting these fine folk to Colorado. He owed her no special treatment other than her being a member of his train—a forced member.

Nodding, she limped on. “I’ll be ready by morning.” She supposed he nodded; she didn’t look. She couldn’t.

As she approached the wagon, Sadie stepped out. “There you are. Have you seen Redlin?”

“He’s on his way to the fort.”

“He needs to see this.” She brushed past Copper and hurried off in a trot. Copper’s heart sank. Now what? Dyson—

Parting the canvas, Copper spotted Adele bent over the doctor’s pallet. She turned when Copper eased into the wagon in a sitting position. “Come look.”

Copper turned away. “If he’s passed, Adele, have Mike take him to the fort so he can be buried with his company.”

A man’s deep voice answered. “I haven’t passed.”

Startled, Copper slowly pulled herself into the wagon and slid to the pallet. Dyson stared up at her, his eyes wet with tears.

“Dr. Dyson?”

He closed his eyes, evidently shutting her out.

She glanced at Adele. “He’s responsive?”

Adele nodded. “That’s the first words that he’s uttered, but he’s awake.” The older woman bent closer to the patient. “Doctor? Will you try to eat a bite?”

He turned his head.

Copper adjusted the blanket, her eyes pinned to the man. “He can’t talk, Adele. It’s too soon.” Images of the massacre tore at her heart. Surely such memories were consuming this man to the point where he would resent consciousness.

Sadie returned with Josh within the hour. He entered the wagon and knelt beside Dyson and snapped, “Doctor!”

Copper, shocked by his tone, brought a hand to her mouth.

Dyson opened his eyes.

“The name’s Redlin. Josh Redlin. We sent word ahead that we would be bringing a young woman to see you.” Josh still spoke in a tone she’d seldom if ever heard. Harsh. Demanding. Couldn’t he see this poor man was at the end of his rope?

Dyson covered his head and rolled to his side, but Josh rolled him to his back.

The man struck out, trying to knock his tormentor aside, but Redlin pinned him.

Appalled, Copper cried out, “Leave him alone! Can’t you see he’s devastated?”

“Stand back, Copper. Now!” Steel tinged his voice.

She stood back. Adele reached gently to move her closer to the back flap. “Honey, I know it seems what he’s doing is cruel, but Josh is doing the right thing. Now just hush, and let Redlin handle this.”

The doctor met Redlin’s eyes. “I need a drink.”

“A young woman needs your gift.”

Copper watched a silent message play between the two men. One Dyson didn’t want, one the wagon master commanded.

Shaking his head, Dyson spoke. “I can’t help her.”

“If you refuse to help, then you tell her.” He reached for Copper and eased her to his side. She met the doctor’s ginsoaked eyes, her heart heavy with the request. Hadn’t the man been through enough? What right did she have to make impossible demands of him?

“Tell him, Copper,” Josh demanded, still in that stringent tone.

“Tell him what?”

“Tell him you’ve traveled forty miles to seek his help. Days of constant pain, and he’s the only hope you have of walking normally. Ask him if gin is more important than the oath that he took to help the sick and injured whenever and wherever he can.”

“That’s cruel…”

“Ask him!”

“Dr. Dyson,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes; he was blocking her out. “Please. We see the evidence of what’s happened and we can only presume your misery.” She reached for his hand. “I know you have seen horrors that I cannot even imagine, but if you would only look at my ankle, just one look, then I can accept my fate and pray that in time you will accept yours. I can’t do anything to change what’s happened to either one of us. I deeply wish I could. But if you turn me away I’ll never know if perhaps you could have altered my life.”

“I have no powers,” he murmured. “Let me die.”

“My understanding is that the good Lord has given you a healing talent few people have.”

He slashed back at her. “Don’t you speak to me of the Lord!”

She drew back and Josh leaned forward, his tone gentle now. “Easy, now. You think about her request, Dyson. I’ll be back at the end of the day.”

“Don’t speak to me of the Lord,” he repeated. The restless repetition continued long into the afternoon. The doctor’s demanding litany bellowed from the wagon during suppertime, disturbing the meal and upsetting the women. Sometimes he yelled and sometimes he whispered, but always the refrain was the same. “Don’t speak to me of the Lord.”

Concerned mothers covered small children’s ears and hurried them back to the privacy of their wagons to eat while the men lingered in small groups. As Copper washed dishes, she listened to the talk.

“I buried three Kiowas,” one man said.

“I didn’t touch the savages,” someone else muttered.

The first speaker stared straight ahead. “A man ought to have a grave.”

“Those heathens bury their own differently than we do. Some are put on scaffolds. Why, I’ve even seen ’em hanging in trees. Some are buried in caves, others in graves. Those cold-blooded killers are a superstitious lot. I’ve seen ’em bury a warrior and then destroy his horse and everything he owned in an effort to provide help in the next life.”

“Don’t matter.” The other man said, “I buried these in the ground, but after putting three of those savages in their graves I quit. Redlin was foolish enough to dig one for the woman.”

“A waste of time and energy. There’ll be no one here to put her in it.”

The men’s conversation faded as Copper hung a dishtowel to dry, and then went to sit with a group of women near the fire.

“Understand Mike will be taking you back in the morning,” Adele said as she patted the seat beside her. “It’s not going to be the same around here without you, honey.”

Copper took a seat and warmed her hands. “Dr. Dyson’s in no shape to help.” She sighed. “I’ll miss everyone too, especially the children and our noon lessons.”

“Who would ever have thought this would happen?” Lil held little Carrie on her lap. The child’s eyes drooped.

Yes, who would have thought this would ever happen. Copper closed her eyes, recalling the pain she had undergone, only to meet with this destiny.

“Just doesn’t seem right, but I’ve lived long enough to know life can turn on you in a minute. Can’t really blame the good doctor. A body can stand only so much.”

Copper opened her eyes and murmured. “Well, will you look at that.”

Eyes turned to follow her direction. An unsteady Dyson stood in the canvas opening of Adele’s wagon. Grizzled, disheveled, and looking more like fifty miles of bad road instead of Copper’s redemption, there he stood, big as life.

He met the women’s stares. “Don’t just sit there; get me some strong black coffee.”