Chapter 18

The sheriff had a tough time holding the men for the three days, not because of them but because of the mayor’s insistence that they had paid for their crimes and should be let go sooner. Out of spite, Johansson held them until the morning of the fourth day. He unlocked the cells and stepped back allowing the men to enter the office. He took their gun belts out of a drawer and threw them on his desk. “You boys ain’t got no friends in this town, so I suggest you gather your things and vamoose.”

“I’ll leave when it suits me,” Tom said, spinning the cylinder of his pistol and shoving it in his holster.

“Cause any trouble, and I’ll pepper your ass with buckshot,” the sheriff shot back.

“You’re welcome to try,” Tom sniped clamping his hat firmly on his head. “Let’s go, boys.” All three of them walked out into the bright sunshine.

Mike Ventosa was sitting in a chair on the porch of the jail with his feet on the rail. After the three men left, Johansson walked out and watched them. “Follow them and make sure they stay out of trouble,” he said to Mike.

“How long?” Mike asked standing and adjusting his hat.

“See if they leave town and if they do, which way they go.”

“You got it, Boss,” Mike said as he walked off the porch.

He followed them to the hotel and watched them go to their rooms, collect their things along with Jimmy Rocco, pay their bill and walk down to the livery. They saddled their horses and rode at a high gallop east out of town.

Satisfied, Mike headed back for the jail. He walked in and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Well that didn’t take long,” the sheriff said, “what happened?”

Mike blew on his coffee and sat down. “Not much really, they got their bedrolls and lit a shuck out of town to the east.”

“Well it don’t sound like he’s going back to his Pappy’s,” Johansson said sucking his teeth. “We’ll double the patrols for a while.”

“Sounds good,” Mike said.

******

That night Blake was working in the forge to fill an important order for a customer. He insisted that Caleb stay home to study and brought some fried chicken with him for dinner. Darkness fell as he worked. Concentrating on finishing and getting home, he didn’t see the four figures creep up to the livery and waylay Joe Bergman on the back of his head. A shadowy figure kept in the dark as he worked his way toward the front door of the forge. The mysterious man placed a hand over his mouth and yelled, “Fire in the livery!” By doing that it made it sound far away. Blake snapped his head around and threw the hot metal in the slack tub and ran for the door. As he entered the livery he saw Joe lying face first on the ground. Suddenly, fireworks erupted in his head as a pistol barrel hit him from behind. Falling to his knees dazed, he was greeted by several pairs of boots lashing out at him. Blake was a strong man in good condition but the constant pounding was starting to take its toll and he could feel himself slipping away. He thought he heard a rebel yell and a loud crash but he couldn’t be sure. As the pounding continued he could see Caleb’s dog Satan sneaking into the barn. As sudden as it began the kicking stopped and one of the men yelled, “God almighty,” and gagged. The rest of the men started choking and making retching sounds. “I can’t stand it,” one yelled and ran for the door. Another coughed and said, “C’mon, he’s done.” The men clamored for the door and Blake heard horses galloping away. In spite of the pain racking his body he smiled. “Saved by a dog’s fart,” he muttered and his world went dark.

******

Two days later Blake dreamt he was in a long tunnel. He could see the end but it was such an effort to move. He stumbled and clawed his way toward the opening. His forehead was cool and wet and it felt like a spider was crawling across his ribs. He tried to open his eyes but it seemed only one would work and that was sticky and blurry. He blinked a couple times and he saw Chrissy sitting in a chair next to him slowly tracing the outline of his tattoos on his exposed chest with her finger. “That kinda tickles,” he said weakly.

She stopped and looked up quickly, gently stroking his face, tears flowing down her cheeks. “It took you long enough to come back,” she smiled.

“Well, a man died who was in a hurry once,” his lips hurt when he tried to smile. “What happened?” he asked, trying to rise up, but his body screamed its objections and he laid back down.

“You lay right there now,” she ordered. “I think I can still catch Doc Baker.”

“If you insist,” Blake murmured as he closed his one good eye.

He heard footsteps and the door open and close. He could feel a cool breeze blowing across his body, sounds of the town in the background. He heard more footsteps and the door opening again. He slowly turned his head and could see Chrissy and another man standing there.

The man set his bag on the bed and took out a stethoscope. Placing it in his ears and the cool disc on Blake’s chest he said, “Mr. Thorton, you have the constitution of an ox.”

“I feel like one has been dancing on me,” Blake managed to reply.

“That’s understandable considering the beating you took,” the doctor said putting the stethoscope back and removing a small brown bottle. Pouring the thick liquid in a spoon, he held it out for Blake. “Here, drink this, it will ease the pain some.”

Blake opened his mouth and took the medicine. Wincing he smacked his lips, “I think that ox did something else in my mouth.”

“It’s laudanum,” he said handing Chrissy the bottle. “Give him a teaspoon every so often, but not too much, it can be habit forming.”

She nodded her head and slipped the bottle into her dress pocket. The doctor snapped his bag shut and put on his hat. “I’ll check on him tomorrow. What he needs now is sleep and plenty of it.”

“Thank you very much,” she said and followed him to the door. When he left she came back over to Blake’s side and sat down.

“Where am I?” Blake asked as he looked around. He didn’t recognize the room.

“It’s my room above the café,” she said.

Blake furrowed his brow. “Why your room? Why not my house?”

“We all thought it might be safer for you here.”

“Safer?” Blake said stronger, “What the hell is going on?” he could feel the effects of the laudanum and the room started to spin slowly.

“You sleep now,” she cooed softly, “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

Blake relaxed and was feeling a little drunk-like. “Fine,” he said. He closed his eye and could feel her fingers touching his face. “Chrissy?” he said weakly.

“Yes, darling,”

“Tell me a story.”

She gave him a confused look. “What story?”

“Any story,” he murmured, “but if there’s a prince, can it be Prince Blake?” he smiled a weak smile.

“Go to sleep, you big idiot,” she giggled as he drifted off.

******

The next morning Blake woke and his one eye was still swollen shut. He managed to work himself into almost a sitting position. Every muscle in his body protested but the more he moved the better it felt. Exhausted from his efforts, he laid back and drew in lungfuls of the cool morning air. The door cracked slightly and Chrissy peaked in. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

Blake winced as he tried to get more comfortable. “I thought I would go for a quick run this morning.”

“Oh I can see you’re not going to be an easy patient,” she said sitting on the bed and feeling his forehead. “Can I get you anything?”

“I could eat something, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble but you have to stay in bed.”

“Yes, mother,” he said lying back on the soft pillow. She got up to leave and he continued. “Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?”

“Let’s get you some food first. Sheriff Johansson wanted to talk to you if you’re up to it,” she said as she reached the door.

“Tell him all right but not to take too long, I still want to go running.”

Shaking her head she closed the door. Blake managed to get some more pillows behind his back and was admiring the room when she came back carrying a tray. Setting it on the dresser she took out the small bottle of laudanum and filled a spoon. “Here you go,” she said holding the spoon out.

“I don’t need that,” Blake objected.

Standing up straight she cocked her eyebrow and placed her other hand on her hip. “If you want breakfast, you’ll take it.”

“It tastes like crap.”

“Fine,” she said, “then you can come downstairs to eat.”

“That’s all right with me,” Blake tried to sit up and swing his legs out of bed but immediately realized that he wasn’t going too far. Collapsing back onto the pillows he said breathlessly. “You win, you surly woman.”

Giggling, she fed him the medicine. “Now there’s a big boy,” she teased in a mocking tone. She got up and brought over the tray with a bowl that contained clear broth, dipping a spoon in it she brought to his lips and said in a singsong voice, “Open wide.”

Blake furrowed his forehead. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said taking the broth.

“Yes, I really am,” she laughed holding up another spoonful.

“How’s the patient?” Johansson said from the doorway.

Blake looked around Chrissy and said, “I am feeling a might abused.”

“Yeah, you look it,” Johansson chuckled. “Hello, Mrs. O’Bryan. If he gives you too much trouble I can take him down to the jail. We have real comfortable cots.”

“I can handle him, sheriff, but thanks for the offer,” she smiled, feeding Blake some more broth.

“So is anybody going to tell me what happened?” Blake asked.

Taking off his hat, Johansson pulled up a chair and sat down. “Near as we can figure,” he began, “Tom MacIntyre is the one who paid you a visit. He and those other criminals he rides with snuck into the livery and knocked Joe out.”

“Is he all right?” Blake asked.

“He’s fine. They put a good sized knot on his head, though. Anyway, they must have lured you in the barn and cold cocked you. Then they proceeded to a do a Mexican hat dance on you.”

“I remember somebody yelled fire,” Blake added.

“Makes sense, I was wondering why you went in the livery,” Johansson said. “While they were takin’ the boots to you, Avery was up in the loft and saw the whole thing. To hear him tell it, he saved your life by swingin’ down on a rope into them fellas. Damn fool stunt if you ask me. He says he knocked all four out the door and they high tailed it.”

It hurt to laugh, but Blake couldn’t help himself, “I remember a rebel yell and a crash, but I’m pretty sure Satan helped the most.”

“Come again?” the sheriff asked.

“Caleb’s dog, he snuck in and does what he does best.”

“What does he do, bite them?” Chrissy asked.

“Nope,” Blake laughed, “he farts. It’s the worst God awful thing you ever smelled. It would make a buzzard gag.”

“You’re joshin’ me,” Johansson said disbelieving.

“It’s true, I swear,” Blake said holding up a bruised hand. “Ask Joe, or Hap, or Sadie, they all know.”

“I’ll be damned,” Johansson said shaking his head.

The laudanum was starting to work and Blake felt dizzy, Chrissy saw it on his face. “All right you two, that’s enough talking. He needs some rest.”

“I still don’t know why I’m here in your room,” Blake said sleepily.

“Mrs. O’Bryan thought it would be best if we put you someplace that would make it hard for MacIntyre to find you, should he come back,” Johansson said standing and putting on his hat. “My deputy has been searchin’ for him, but he up and disappeared.”

Blake was drifting off to sleep. “Caleb and Sadie, he might go after them.”

“We took care of them,” Chrissy said. “Go to sleep now.”

The next couple of days Blake received a lot of visitors; it seemed to him like he had made a lot more friends than he thought. He hadn’t been part of a community since he was young back in New York and, as people came and went, he was filled with a sense of warmth. It was hard to explain but he liked it. He was getting restless though, he wanted to get outside and breathe the air and feel the sun on his face. Six days after he was jumped, he sat up and slowly got dressed. He was barely able to pull his boots on and thought about laying back down. Bracing one more time he stood and walked across the room and down the stairs. As he entered the dining room, Chrissy came out of the kitchen with some plates of food. “Of all the foolish…” she exclaimed. Setting the plates down, she rushing to his side. “You get back up in bed, this instant.”

“I’m fine,” Blake groused, “I’m going crazy up there.”

“You are an impossible man,” she groused back. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” he said easing into a chair.