Fourteen

Feeling as though she were made of glass, Rylee tugged her hat down over her eyes and trudged across the yard to the barn. Her eyes skittered up the rise to the stand of trees from which Joe and Matthew kept a close eye on her home and property. Tom had been true to his word. His men stayed. They watched over her carefully. Seeing them, just knowing that they were there, scraped the scab from her wounded heart. Each day blended into the next as she struggled with the pain that had settled like an ulcer in her belly.

Rylee leaned against the nearest stall and closed her eyes. Instantly the memory of her actions the day Tom left her flitted across her eyelids like a never-ending play. She’d broken the minute he’d closed the door. Her legs gone from under her, she sank to the floor. Tears, unwanted, had fallen like rain before she’d risen to stumble into her room and throw herself on the bed. She’d sobbed harder as she realized that the sheets, the pillows, the entire room smelled of him.

The two weeks since Tom had ridden away had dragged by, each day a monotony of routine that she couldn’t shake. She threw herself into grueling physical labor. Long hours were spent working herself into a state of utter exhaustion, only to fall into a bed that she’d been loathe to change. Despite the punishing exercise, sleep evaded her more often than not. His fading scent in her bed tormented her waking mind and haunted her dreams.

With a shuddery breath, Rylee straightened and set to work. There was an endless list of things to be done, and if she were lucky, she could actually get a few hours' sleep at day's end. She tossed a forkful of hay into the stall for a young spotted mare before she grabbed the wheelbarrow.

Endless hours of mindless labor had become a relief. The agony of losing yet another chance to have something more than a bitter rivalry with Tom couldn’t stand up under the pressure of dealing with the ranch. She found solace in the small tasks that were day to day chores. Thinking of putting up enough hay for the stock, or fixing a corral fence that had been busted down kept her mind free from thoughts of Tom Duncan, and her desire for him.

The sun’s long hands had spread across the barn floor when Rylee heard a sound and glanced up. The thunder of hooves on solid ground vibrated the walls of the barn and she frowned, confusion reigning. “What on earth….?” she muttered. Loud, indistinct shouts filled the air, their tone one of angry impatience.

Rylee walked across the barn and peeked out of the doorway before stepping into the corral. As she watched, the entire herd of mustangs raced over the rise and vanished into a cloud of dust. Her gaze followed the horizon, intent on finding what spooked them. Her blood ran cold when she saw two riders on the hilltop, their horses dancing beneath them before the riders vanished into the dust.

“No,” she whimpered. “No!”

Fast moving, the clatter of hooves from the other direction had her turning sharply to see Joe and Matthew riding hell-bent into the yard. Matthew barely clung to his saddle, his face ashen, and blood soaking through his sweat stained chambray shirt.

“Sorry, Miss Rylee,” Joe panted as he directed the horses into the barn. “They jumped us.” His face turned a sickly shade of green when he glanced at his saddle partner.

“Who jumped you? What happened?” Rylee stared at Matthew hunched over in his saddle.

“I was down at the pond over yonder,” Joe explained as he dismounted. “Went to refill the canteens. I heard a noise and came rushing back to camp. Figured you would've called out if it was you. There were three masked men. Matthew was lying on the ground, bleeding something fierce.” He groaned beneath the sudden dead weight of his saddle partner when he pulled him from the horse.

“Help me get him inside,” Rylee ordered. She shot a final parting glance to where her herd had vanished before she grabbed Matthew around the waist. Grunting under the burden of his weight, she struggled even with Joe’s help to get him into the house. Each step was marked with a pained groan from the wounded cowpuncher. Rylee could see the agony in his glazed eyes. Her stomach roiled as her fingers were washed in the warm pulse of fresh blood oozing down Matthew’s body.

“Put him down on the bed,” she groaned as the trio shuffled awkwardly down her hallway. “I’ll get hot water and bandages. You get his shirt off.” She huffed and darted out of the room.

Rylee poured hot water from the reservoir at the rear of her cook stove into a large, cast iron pot and set it aside before refilling the tank. She ripped through the cupboards to pull out fresh, white bandages and a small bottle of whiskey.

Joe appeared in the kitchen and reached for the pot of water, his hands stained red. “I'll get that for you.”

Rylee nodded and hurried back to her room. Joe turned a darker shade of green as Rylee peeled away the layers of Matthew’s clothes to reveal the ugly wounds. Two stab wounds wept the hot, red liquid that trailed down his body onto her sheets. Matthew’s chest was covered in blood. It bubbled up through the slits in the flesh like mud in a sinkhole. At the sight of the scarlet stains on his hands Joe leaned heavily against the wall, his attention riveted on his friend, desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll do what I can, but he needs more care,” Rylee said as she dipped a cloth into the water and began to wash away the debris and blood. With each swipe, fresh blood streamed down to soak the bed, the ruby trails tiny maps of someone’s rage. Rylee cursed her own ineptness. “Here,” she rolled two compresses and held them out to Joe, “hold them in place with pressure. We need to slow the bleeding.”

“Miss Rylee, he needs a doctor,” Joe whispered, his hands trembling as he took the compresses and held them against the wounds. “I know you’re good at doctoring critters but—”

“We don’t have time,” Rylee admitted sadly. “By the time you ride into town and fetch the doc, Matthew could bleed to death. No, I’ll do what I can and then you can go.”

“There anything you want me to fetch?” Joe looked torn between wringing his hands and crying, his dark eyes filled with fear and pain. The expression was so unlike the seasoned cow-hand that at any other time, Rylee would have laughed at the absurdity of it.

She bit her lip, nearly paralyzed with uncertainty. While she'd tended to wounded animals before, she'd never had the life of another human being in her hands. Fear wrapped cold tentacles around her spine. There was little Joe could do other than press on the wounds. If he removed the pressure the bleeding would start up again, possibly worse than before. Her gaze darted to his to assess his wide-eyed expression. She sighed. “Just keep the pressure constant, Joe. I’m going to wrap him with these longer bandages. It’ll help the bleeding while you go for the doc.” Rylee tried to ignore the pained groan from the man lying in her bed as she focused on treating the wounds.

Joe gave a short nod of his head and refocused on holding the compresses in place. Neither of them said a word as the white cotton slowly turned red. Joe swallowed audibly as the blood seeped through and over his fingers. He swallowed loudly at the sound of agony that escaped Matthew’s compressed lips.

Rylee worked quickly. Her fingers unwound the bandages until she had the strips laid out. She tucked one end under Matthew’s body and inhaled. “Alright, Joe, this is what we’re going to do: When I say, I want you to roll him to face you so I can lay these under his back. Then we’ll switch sides and do it over again. Once I have both ends around him, I’ll tie the knots over the wounds to create pressure. Then you’re going to ride hell-bent-for-leather and fetch the doctor.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right, roll him over, Joe, careful now, easy. There we go.” Rylee’s hands pushed against the mattress, tucking the fold of the bandage tightly against Matthew’s far side. She panted as she tugged the bandages into place, the sounds of his screams ringing in her ears. “Hurry now, switch.” Blessedly, Matthew slipped into unconsciousness, the rattle of his breathing the only sounds from him. The few seconds it took to move to the other side of the bed seemed to drag on until she glanced at Joe and nodded. With quick efficient movements, they had the bandages free of Matthew’s body and Joe eased him back into position.

“Go, don’t take your horse. Take the tall grey in the barn. She’s fast, fastest horse I’ve got, and you’re gonna need every ounce of speed.” Rylee folded two thick pads and put them on the wounds before she bound them. “And don’t dawdle, Joe, Matthew needs a doctor.”

“I won’t,” Joe hollered as he raced through the house and slammed out of the door. The loud bang made Matthew jump, his body jerking on the bed as his eyes flew open. “Shh,” she soothed him as her hand wiped his forehead, “it’s okay. You’re safe here, Matthew. You’re safe.” Her eyes burning with unshed tears.

Rylee glanced up at the thunder of hooves as Joe galloped out of the yard before turning her attention back to her patient. His skin was waxy and pale, and a fine sheen of sweat covered the exposed flesh. Matthew’s lips were pulled taught with pain and his eyes rolled drunkenly in their sockets.

A hard knot of unease and fear coiled low in her belly as she walked to the window to stare out. With a sad shake of her head, Rylee turned and settled on the edge of the bed. Her fingers shook as she dipped a clean cloth into the water and rung it out. Her gaze on Matthew’s pale face, she smoothed the cool compress over his features, wiping away the sweat and blood. Silence, heavy and oppressive pressed in on her. Agonized moans from beside her seemed to swell within her mind as the seconds sluggishly passed by. “Stay with me, Matthew,” she whispered. “You’re safe here. Just hang on. The doctor is coming soon. So will Tom. Yes, yes, Tom will come…at least I hope he will.” The dull roaring of her heart and breathing in her ears slowly drowned everything else. Rising to her feet, Rylee paced t the window and stared out. “Where are you when I need you, Duncan?” she whispered, her forehead pressed to the cold glass as tears rolled silently down her face.

~ * ~

Tom turned and hefted another sack of feed onto his shoulder before striding hard-heeled toward the door of the general store. His brow drew together in a furious scowl as he recognized the grey racing past the windows. Unmindful of the stares of the other customers, Tom dumped his burden and hurried out the door to trot toward the wild-eyed grey. He snagged the reins and wrapped them around the hitching rail. His gaze followed the figure that leaped onto the porch of the doctor’s office.

“What the hell are you doing in town?” Tom ground out. “I told you…” His annoyed words stuttered to a halt when Joe turned to face him. The other man’s shirt was caked in blood and dirt, his hands soaked red, and a wild, terrified look sat in his eyes. “Joe? What happened?”

“They hurt Matthew,” Joe panted and turned to pound on the door. “God damn, Doc, open the door!” he hollered.

“Doc’s out at the Millers, delivering a baby,” Tom stated, bewildered. “You gonna explain what the—” A cold knot of fear settled low in Tom’s gut. He raked a trembling hand through his hair and turned back to his hand. “Joe? You’re worrying me something fierce.”

“They ran her horses off.” Joe’s voice trembled with emotion. “I went to get some water, when I got back to camp they’d jumped Matthew. Miss Parys tended his wounds but he needs a doctor. Never saw so much blood in all my years, boss. Miss Parys, she done what she could, but he needs a doc.” Joe elbowed past Tom, his eyes darting to the horses standing tethered in the street even as his boss’s hand tightened on his arm.

“You get a good look at ‘em?” Marshal Jackson’s voice boomed out over the small walkway, drawing both men’s attention. A steadily growing crowd of onlookers had collected, shifting and muttering amongst themselves as they stared at the blood-encrusted rider. Roy pushed his way through the crowd in the street to stand next to Tom.

“They were all hiding their faces. They were riding some mighty poor horses,” Joe admitted. “I gotta go get the doc. Matthew’s gonna bleed to death if’n I don’t. I did see a brand on one of the brush jumpers they were riding. Don’t know where it’s from. Wasn’t any of the ranches around here.”

“Anything you can tell me that’ll help me round them up?” Roy pushed his hat back on his head and stared at the young man. “Which direction they head off in? Anything.”

“I don’t have time to answer you! Don’t you understand, Matthew needs the doc!” Joe shouted as he tried to muscle past the two men.

“I’ve already sent someone to fetch him,” Roy soothed. “Now I gotta know if you saw anything else.”

“There were three that I saw. Took the herd and headed west toward the box canyon back of Mr. Duncan’s place.” Joe wiped at his sweaty forehead, unwittingly leaving a streak of red. “I don’t doubt they knew the area. Could've been that feller that was watching her a while back, but I just don’t know.” He glanced anxiously at the doctor's door. “You sure Doc’s coming?”

“Yes, he’s on his way. I’ll round up a posse and go have a look,” Roy declared. “Tom, you best see to your land. If we’ve got rustlers that aren’t shy ‘bout taking a herd during the day—”

“I’m going out to the Parys place. She may need help.” Tom shook his head. “I don’t doubt that it was meant to scare her off.”

“You’d best do as I said.” Roy pointed at him. “She ain’t your biggest admirer.”

“No, but she don’t need this, not now. I’m going.” Tom brushed past Roy, his mind racing. “Look, I’ve got a man out there bleeding to death. I’m for damn sure not going to stand here and wait around for you to give me permission. I’m going.”

“Now you hold on, Duncan. You go running out there, she’s likely to shoot you.”

Tom glared at the older man. It didn’t surprise him in the least to hear those words. After all, it was common knowledge that Rylee and he butted heads more often then not. He had faith in her, though. “Rylee won’t shoot me. She’d leave it up to you to hang me.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t matter if she did, anyway. I figure I earned the lead,” he muttered under his breath.

Without waiting for a response he ran toward his horse. The animal was already galloping before he’d secured his behind in the seat. As he directed the gelding toward the Parys spread, a cold, uncomfortable knot formed in his throat. Please God, don’t let me be too late to help her, he prayed.