The ride came to a sudden halt, and Dara opened her eyes to find Papa’s Pullman car.
“Can you hear me, Dara?” Gage spoke softly.
She bobbed her head.
“Good girl.” He slid to the ground, lifted her down, and climbed the railcar steps. As he shifted her weight, she noted his mount was lathered and winded.
“Your horse …” She whispered the words.
“I’ll see to him once you’re taken care of.” He barged through the door of the train car. “Where’s William?”
“What happened?” Becca crossed the room to stand beside her.
“She got cornered by a mountain lion.”
“Oh, sweet heaven above.” Matilde crowded near also. “Miss Becca, go fetch your father. Quick, now.”
Becca ran.
“Mr. Wells, take her to her room and get her out of that coat. I’ll fetch some supplies.”
In several long strides, Gage entered her room and sat her on the bed. He fumbled to unknot the strips of blanket tied around her. When that failed, he cut them free with his knife, then sheathed the blade, knelt, and unfastened the buttons.
He looked up at her. “You’ll be just fine, Dara. You hear me?”
She gritted her teeth. “It hurts.”
“Your uncle’ll be here soon.” He finished unbuttoning her coat and smiled. “You were real brave.”
Her eyes slid shut. “I was terrified.”
“That makes two of us, princess.” He caressed her cheek as he straightened.
Her heart raced at the gentle touch and the soft endearment, but before it all sank in, he’d stripped the coat from her unaffected side and was gently peeling the material away from the injury. The coat removed, he pressed something to the wound again, and Matilde appeared with a tray full of bandages and supplies.
“Thank you, Mr. Wells. You got to go now.” The young freedwoman put the tray down and lit the crystal lamp.
As Gage turned away, Dara caught his wrist. “Please stay.”
“No, ma’am. I should go.” She loosened her grip. “I’ll be right outside, seeing to my horse.”
He left quickly, the outer door slamming loudly.
“Where is that uncle of yours?” Matilde crossed to look out the window then closed the drapes. “Go on and unbutton that dress now, Miss Dara.”
Weakness and cold made the task impossible. Matilde scooped the bloodied coat and blanket onto the floor then unfastened Dara’s bodice herself. She carefully helped her strip off the shredded garments then sat next to her to see the wounds more clearly.
Dara crumpled against her, a sob wrenching free from her chest. “I was so scared.”
“You’re safe now, missy.”
Matilde held her until clattering footsteps on the rear platform warned of someone’s approach. Dara snatched the remnant of blanket and covered herself as both Papa and Uncle William shoved through the bedroom doorway. Matilde stepped out of the way.
“Uncle William.” Her chin quivered as he gave her a once-over glance, then held her face and pulled one lower lid down, then the other.
“Can you tell me what happened?” He released her and reached for a rag on the bedside table.
“I was talking to Walks In Shadows, and I had to …”
He sat and pressed the rag against the wound. “To what?”
Her cheeks flamed. “Answer the call of nature. I walked over the hill for some privacy.” She inhaled sharply as he probed at her shoulder. “I didn’t realize until I was halfway to the bottom that it was there.”
“Matilde, I’ll need plenty of hot water.”
“Already heating, sir. I’ll check on it.” She produced a quilt from the far side of the room and shook the folds from it. “You cover yourself in this, missy, and I’ll take that dusty ol’ scrap.”
Matilde wrapped her in the quilt, and with a disgusted look, the woman collected the bloodied items and left.
Will probed her shoulder again. “I’ll need to clean this very well, stitch up the cuts. I’m concerned about infection. If we can keep that at bay, you’ll be up and about in a few days.”
“Thank God Mr. Wells made that shot,” Papa breathed from the doorway.
Dara looked at him as if noticing him for the first time. “Papa, please don’t let Gage leave.”
He nodded. “I assure you, he won’t.”
Gage led both his and Forsythe’s horse beside the tracks to cool them. The little he’d been able to see of Dara’s wound didn’t look critical. Deep, but a flesh wound. The fact that she’d been sitting up and talking eased his mind, but he’d be a whole lot happier once her uncle gave his professional opinion.
Lord, please. Please let her be all right. He raised a hand to mop his face but stopped when he saw her blood staining his coat sleeve. He fisted his hand, dropped it back to his side. Lord, I’ve come to care for this woman—far more than I care to admit. What happened today scared me. Bad.
“Wells!”
He spun to see Forsythe hurrying his way. “She gonna be all right?”
“Unless infection sets in, William says she’ll be fine in a few days.”
Gage pressed his eyes closed. Thank You, Lord.
Forsythe took his horse’s reins and continued to walk. “How common is an attack like this?”
Gage shook his head. “It’s not. Those cats are mostly night dwellers. They prefer the higher elevations but sometimes come to the flats to hunt or when a young male is searching for new territory.”
Forsythe nodded. “What’d you do in the war, son?”
His nerves jangled. “Sharpshooter.”
“A mighty fine one, if that shot you took is any indication. How far was it?”
“A mile, maybe.” He’d made many that were longer, thanks to the Whitworth’s precision.
Forsythe nodded as they turned. “Where’d you learn to shoot?”
“I grew up so poor, I learned not to miss when hunting. It cost too much to load our guns.”
“Humble beginnings do teach us a specific set of skills, don’t they?”
Gage nodded, though what Forsythe might know of humble beginnings, he couldn’t fathom. “That skill translated real neatly into the war.” Upon learning of his accuracy, his superiors elevated him to sharpshooter. He’d done all they’d asked, but taking lives, especially like that—at a great distance and from hiding—was nothing he was proud of.
“I owe you a tremendous debt.”
“You don’t owe me anything, sir.”
“That’s the second time you’ve saved my daughter. A simple thank-you hardly seems sufficient.”
“Knowing she’s safe is thanks enough.”
Forsythe grinned. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You have a keen eye and a knack for sensing danger. You know this territory far better than William or I. Because of that, I want to hire you to protect our girls.”
“Protect them?”
He waved at the sea of tents. “This camp is full of soiled doves, saloons, and sin—hardly the place to bring two impressionable young ladies. Most residing here wouldn’t knowingly bother the girls, given their connection to me, but there’s always that chance. Both William and I prefer they never know of the vices that happen here, but work keeps us busy enough we can’t protect them from the unprincipled and immoral elements every moment.”
Had the man not thought about such things before Dara arrived?
“Also, we’re a few days from moving this camp twenty miles down the track to Cheyenne. Four thousand people have flocked to the town already. I won’t have the control there that I do here. I’m left with a dilemma. Either demand the girls stay cooped up in our home—a decision neither would be happy with—or find a way to let them have their freedom.”
“So you want me to look after them….”
“Exactly. You’ve proven you can protect Becca and Dara, and having you around would give William and me peace of mind.”
The man had to be soft in the head, offering an almost-stranger the responsibility of protecting his kin.
Or maybe he was soft in the head. His farm chores were done for the winter, so taking this position would keep him busy, allow him to listen for any underhanded dealings the railroad planned for the Cheyenne … and let him spend time with the spunky woman he was growing to love. That alone was payment enough.