Twenty

When Marty woke the first time, it had been midmorning, and now the sun was dipping in the sky. In a couple of hours it would be dark again. All she had had to eat during the day were a few huckleberries she found clinging to some nearby bushes. She thought about hunting for game but without a fire, what was the point? Everything was too wet to start a fire.

The rain had let up in the early morning, but by noon it came down hard again. With the rain came a drop in temperature. Marty was cold, wet, hungry, and injured. At least her head had stopped bleeding, but it hurt along with her left arm and side. She just stayed in her lean-to wondering what to do next. Her eyes drifted closed. She had already accidentally taken two naps today.

Her eyes flew open with a start. She listened. She heard it again. Something was approaching. It was close. She scooted to a nearby tree and hid behind it. She pulled out her six-shooter and made sure it was loaded. Her rifle. She peaked around the tree. Sure enough, she had left it in the lean-to. That would give the invader a gun. She thought about retrieving it when she saw something move. She had no choice but to remained hidden.

She heard a horse blow and someone dismount. Had William sent someone after her? She stayed leaning against the tree and hoped whoever it was would leave.

“Hey, Flash,” she heard Reece say from the direction of her horse.

Oh no, not Reece. She tipped her head back against the tree. She hadn’t made up her mind about him yet.

“Where’s your keeper?”

“Right here.” Marty came out from behind the tree with her gun drawn. Joy and disappointment warred inside her at the sight of him. His familiar, friendly face was a comfort, but he could still be employed by William McRae.

“Marty.” He stepped forward.

“Stay back.” She held the gun a little higher so he couldn’t help but see it.

He stopped. “You don’t need that. I’m not going to hurt you.” He held his hands out away from his sides.

“I don’t know who I can trust.” She found it difficult to concentrate on breathing normal to not show her pain, her weakness, as well as watch his slightest move. She couldn’t let her guard down for an instant, or she could be doomed, if he was one of them. “You were on their payroll once, you could still be.”

With his hands still held out away from his body, he backed up to his horse.

“What are you doing?” Marty asked.

“You look hungry. I have some biscuits and cheese in my saddlebag.” He looked at her for permission to get the food.

Food sounded wonderful. Her mouth watered.

When she made no reply one way or the other, he turned slowly to his horse. “I’ll just get it for you.”

He brought the food over and sat down under her lean-to. “You’re getting wet out there.”

What difference did that make? The rain had soaked her to the bone hours ago. He was trying to help, but was he really on her side? Marty’s head ached, making it hard to think, a searing pain shot through her side with every breath, and her arm had little mobility. She was a mess and needed help. She dropped her gun arm to her side. She had no fight left.

❧

Reece patted the ground next to him. She really had no reason to trust him. Her first encounter with him had been a betrayal. What was to say everything since then hadn’t been a lie too? He longed to go to her and help her, but she was a woman who seldom needed help. Now was one of those rare times. He had to break through, regain her trust. She sat at the far edge of the lean-to. He handed her the food without making any move toward the gun or rifle. He would put his life in her hands if that’s what it took for her to trust him. He needed to make her feel safe.

“Is it broken?” he asked when she had eaten all his food.

She looked down at her arm, then up at him and shook her head. “I don’t know. It might be.”

He got up and offered her a hand. “Come on. I’m taking you to a doctor.” He was going to help her whether she liked it or not. He would carry her kicking and screaming if he had to.

She tucked the gun between her left hand and her stomach. He pulled her to her feet gently, not knowing the extent of her injuries. He folded her blanket and tarp, then tied them on her saddle. When he handed her rifle to her, she holstered her Colt and put the rifle on her saddle.

“I think you should ride with me.”

“I can ride.” She moved past his helping hand. “I can do it myself.” She climbed up in her saddle with a grimace that tore at his heart.

Reece stood next to her and Flash. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” She turned Flash toward town.

Well, the food had helped her pride at least, and she didn’t look so listless. Reece mounted and followed behind, keeping a close eye on Marty. If she so much as wavered in the saddle, he would be there to catch her, whether she liked it or not. When he first saw the bloody bandage on her head, his heart lurched at the sight. He expected it, but the sight was still startling. The fact she had made it through the night was a good sign.

❧

Dr. Ford came out of his office and closed the door behind him.

Reece stood up. He had been waiting in the outer office while the doctor examined Marty. “How is she?”

“She’ll be fine. My wife’s helping her dress.” He motioned Reece to sit back down on the couch. The doctor sat in a wing chair. “She has a cracked rib and two others that are bruised, but no signs of internal bleeding.”

“Her arm, is it broken?” Reece asked.

“Surprisingly, no. It’s banged up pretty good, has a lot of bruising. She’s not going to be able to move it for a few days. I cleaned her head wound and stitched it up. The stitches will need to come out in a week or so.”

Marty exited the exam room, dragging her feet. She had a fresh bandage around her head, her arm in a sling, and under her clothes her ribs had undoubtedly been tightly wrapped. The doctor’s wife assisted her to make sure she didn’t fall.

The doctor stood abruptly. “I told you to call me,” he said to his wife.

“She was determined to do it herself.” She shrugged her shoulders and held out Marty’s dress to Reece. “She just wanted to wear her britches and shirt.”

“Burn it,” Marty said.

“What?” The doctor’s wife seemed surprised, but Reece wasn’t. “It can be mended and cleaned.”

“I said burn it,” Marty said with more determination.

Marty swayed and grabbed the back of the chair the doctor had been sitting in. Reece looked at Dr. Ford with concern. She looked worse off than when he had brought her in.

“I gave her laudanum for the pain.”

“I don’t feel any pain.” Marty’s words slurred.

“Exactly.” The doctor gave Reece a sideways glance. “She should sleep through the night without any discomfort.” He gave Reece a bottle of laudanum with instructions.

Reece nodded and went to help Marty outside. “I can walk,” Marty insisted, but Reece had to catch her on her first step. She looked at him glassy-eyed. “I guess I need a little help.”

Reece supported her under her good arm and helped her out to the horses.

“This isn’t Flash,” Marty slurred out, when Reece started to hoist her up onto his horse.

“I know.”

“I can ride!” She swayed and put a hand to her head. “I can ride.”

“I know you can, but I need something to hold onto.”

Marty nodded and allowed him to put her up in his saddle.

Once he had her on his horse, he automatically took hold of Flash’s reins and climbed on behind her. He put his horse’s reins and Flash’s in the same hand and wrapped his free arm gently around Marty’s waist to keep her in the saddle. They plodded off down the road and on their way. Before Reece realized it, Flash was being bridle led without any trouble. He smiled and shook his head slightly. Quite a woman.

❧

Marty leaned back, resting against Reece. He was warm and comfortable. She imagined him taking her in his arms, saying pretty things to her. She wore a beautiful, flowing dress with lots of lace and flowers in her hair. What a dreadful thought. She smiled. “I don’t even like dresses.”

“What?” Reece asked.

“I don’t like dresseseses,” she slurred.

“I know.”

“So why would I think about wearing one of the foul things?”

“I think the medicine the doctor gave you is making you a bit confused.” There was a hint of humor in his voice.

“Right. The medicine. Do you like dresses?”

“I don’t think I would look particularly good in a dress.”

She tried to picture him in a dress. “No, I don’t think you would, either.” The spinning in her head picked up speed. “Reece?”

“What?”

“I’m going to fall off the horse.” She felt as though she was tumbling, slowly, endlessly.

“I’ve got you.” Reece tightened his grip around her waist. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She grabbed his arm with her uninjured one to try to stop the reeling, to no avail.

“Good, because I’ve never fallen off a horse before.”

❧

“Milly!” Reece called when he reached his house. He swung down off the horse; Marty came with him. He caught hold of her above her waist and heard her moan in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Marty attempted to stand on her own but leaned heavily on him. If not for his arm around her, she would be a heap on the muddy ground. He scooped her up in his arms and strode toward the door. Before he could call out again, the door opened.

In the doorway stood a robust middle-aged woman in a white apron with gray flecks in her brown hair. “Mercy, Mr. Keegan. Is she alive? I’ll send for the doctor.”

“We just came from there.” He made his way into the house. “Doc said she’ll be fine. He gave her some medicine. She’ll sleep for awhile.”

“Put her in my room,” the woman said. It was on the first floor next to the kitchen. “No sense in carrying her up all those stairs.”

❧

Reece lowered Marty to the bed. She sank deeper into the spiraling blackness. Afraid to be alone, she called out, “Lucas?”

“I’m right here,” a voice answered, then a pair of hands grasped hers.

It comforted her to have him near, but confused her. Why did her brother sound like Reece? She held tight to his hand to keep from falling into the consuming darkness. Vaguely aware of the presence of another person, she faded into the unknown void.

Marty woke to the sound of whispers, though her eyes remained closed.

“Mr. Keegan, you really should get some sleep. It’s not doing her one bit of good,” a woman’s voice whispered.

Who was she? His wife? A startling thought.

“I slept,” Reece said.

“In a chair all night, beside the bed. That’s no way to sleep,” the woman scolded.

She sounded more like someone’s mother. But she had called him Mr. Keegan. No mother would refer to her son as mister.

“I didn’t want to disturb her. She’s had a death grip on my hand all night.”

Marty instinctively released him and jerked her hand away. She looked up into his hurt eyes and regretted her action. It had been done without thought. She wished he would take her hand again, but he didn’t.

“She’s awake now,” the woman said with a pleasant smile. “You get off to bed and get some proper sleep.”

“Are you feeling better?” Reece asked Marty, ignoring the good-intentioned woman.

“I feel a little dull, and it’s hard to breathe.” Marty was concerned for the first time about her physical well-being.

Reece grilled her on each of her injuries until he was convinced she was fine.

“This is Mrs. Atwater.” He pointed to the woman beside him.

“Hello, Mrs. Atwater.” Marty smiled.

“Please call me Milly.”

“Milly is my housekeeper and substitute mother. You won’t find a better cook in these parts.” Reece leaned in closer. “I stole her from one of the logging camps.”

“So you’ve had practice,” Marty said.

He growled, then smiled.

“Stole. He plumb rescued me, that’s what he did. Cooking for three hundred men and getting paid practically nothing.”

“Best cook in the Pacific Northwest,” Reece bragged. “If I were ten years older, I’d marry her.”

“More like twenty, Mr. Keegan.”

Marty could tell this was a go-round Reece and Milly had danced before.