Les Harper studied the intricate patterns of the wall paper. He glanced at the beautiful glass lamp on the table near his bed. He noted the homemade quilt over his body. All these things were strange, but strangely appreciated too. The place was really homey. He hadn't had the pleasure of nice things like this since he was a kid. This house was different than any he'd ever been in though. The dresser was short, the bed was too, since he'd thrown a foot over the bed and reached the floor before he knew it. It had so many little things that made it look homey and nice. He'd have sworn it belonged to a rich doctor, if he didn't know better.
But the woman that nursed him was just like the house, plain and yet somehow strangely beautiful. He couldn't explain that either. He couldn't remember the last time he thought a woman was beautiful. When she smiled that shy smile, it lit the room. When she spoke her voice was lilting. And her touch was as tender as a mother.
Suddenly, his world was totally different than anything he'd ever known. A quiet, unassuming woman, with a well behaved child was tending him.
Where was he? How'd he get here. So many questions danced in his head. He felt an urge to leave here, and he didn't even know why. It would all come back soon, he was sure of it. He felt his head and realized he had a good size lump on the back of his head too. When had that happened?
The young boy that came into his room early in the mornings and later in the afternoons was smart, and hardy. He was used to hard work, and not one to complain. Les liked that about the kid. He didn't normally take to kids.
But how had he gotten here, what had happened to him? He remembered traveling in the storm, how it had turned cold and miserable. He remembered being shot, yet he hadn't seen who done it. But he remembered little else. Had he intentionally blocked it all out? He didn’t' think so.
But then right now, he couldn't be sure of anything.
As far as he could remember, he was a reasonable man, and decent.
Surely in time, he'd remember it all. But right now, his head was a bit fuzzy and it was enough to know that he was safe and his leg had been tended.
However, when he tried to get up and stand on his leg he passed out on the bed again. The black void was welcome to ease the pain and confusion.
He struggled to stay awake now. It just wasn't going to happen, were his last thoughts.
The next morning he woke up and it hit him. He had their money! They'd be out to get him. He glanced around the room, reached for his gun and stared at the ceiling. He had to get out of here and fast. He needed to see if the money was still where he put it. Where was his gun? Where was he? He jerked himself in a sitting position and felt dizzy and laid back down. Maybe he wouldn't try that again for a while.
He glanced in the kitchen, he saw her again. She was making coffee it looked like and she hadn't turned her chair around. He stared for a full minute. She was a tiny thing too. Almost dainty.
He was putting these good people in danger, and he needed to get away, before they caught up to him.
Strange he hadn't seen her husband around.
He kept cursing under his breath. He still wasn't strong enough to make it. And he needed to be.
"Want some coffee?" A sweet voice shocked him awake once more.
He roused, trying to move but finding it hard with his leg aching so.
"That would be good, thank you." Les remembered his manners. He wouldn't complain, this woman had removed the bullet, sheltered him, gave him food. Or had she given him food? He couldn't remember. His belly felt attached to his backbone he was so hungry. No, he wouldn't complain.
But he had to hurry and heal.
"I'll get it." The woman moved to the doorway, "I'm glad you are finally awake. I've got biscuits and bacon if you'd like."
"I would. I feel mighty empty, and I guess I need a little strength to get up and around. How…how long have I been out?" He asked, a frown marring his handsome face.
"Two days. You needed the rest." The woman smiled.
"Did you…get the bullet out? I mean…you?" He raised his hands behind his head.
"Yes, I got it out. And after getting your fever down, I think you are going to live." She smiled.
God, her smile curled around his heart like a warm blanket. It was strange how a smile could do that to another. That smile could melt the coldest of hearts. She was beautiful when she smiled. How could he have thought her plain. She reminded him of an angel.
Angel? What did he know about angels. He had to quit thinking like a man, and start thinking like the lawman he was. Lawman! My God he was a lawman! A lawman in a lot of trouble. He had to get out of here, but how? He couldn't get his leg off the bed anymore. He didn't like this helpless feeling one bit!
He stared at her as she worked in the kitchen to bring him some coffee. Even crippled, she could fend for herself. The fact that she was the one that dug the bullet out made him more determined to get away. They didn't need more troubles.
But his eyes kept straying to her. It was downright odd. She had mousy brown hair that was curling and frizzed, her warm brown eyes seemed to look straight through to his soul. She was small and dainty looking and yet even though she was crippled, she got around her house like any other woman. Her home was clean and well cared for. Her son had manners and was smart. She was what Les considered a handsome woman in more ways than one. He never thought he'd admire a crippled lady. Yet somehow thinking of her as crippled didn't fit her either. She was quite a capable woman.
And he wouldn't be calling her that either. Not after she took the bullet out of his leg.
Of course he'd never known a crippled lady before. He wondered if she'd been born that way. He had better manners than to ask.
He had to distract himself from her though. He had troubles and right now they did too and they didn't know it. Somehow he had to find a way to get out of this place.
He raised up in the bed, wondering how long it would be before he could use that leg. How long before he could ride.
She brought his coffee into him on a tray, on her lap. She rolled her chair right up to his bedside and handed him the tray. She wasn't bashful or shy about approaching him, he liked that.
He liked the fact that she didn't scare easily.
"Thank you. I'm sorry to bother you."
"No bother." She said sweetly.
"Look, I really need to be on my way…" He bit into the biscuit after he put the bacon between the layers. Her biscuits were light and fluffy and it tasted like heaven to him now.
She eyed him a moment. "Are you running from the law?"
He studied her, especially her soft warm brown eyes. She hadn't sounded scared one way or another.
"N-not exactly. But I am on the run…and I'm putting you and your son in danger by being here. That wasn't my intention. I just needed to get out of the rain and rest my leg. That's why I stopped when I saw your barn the other night. I think I bumped by head too…"
"Want me to check it?"
"No, there's no blood, just a lump but it blocked my memory for a while."
"You were concussed then…" She added.
"Yeah, I guess."
She leaned back in her chair, the news didn't seem to bother her.
"You said you are putting me and my son in danger. Well, I'm used to being in danger Mr. Harper." She sighed heavily.
His expression hardened. "Not like this, I'm sure. Look, as soon as I can walk, I’ll be out of here. I don't want to cause you any problems. I thank you for your help, but I've got to move on."
"No, I don't suppose you do want to cause us problems. But trouble seems to find people, whether they are looking for it or not, doesn't it?"
"I suppose it does, ma'am. Ma'am, where's your husband? I mean I sorta assumed you have one since you have a child."
"Out there," she nodded out the window. He turned and peeked out, there was a cemetery.
"Oh, I'm sorry…" He stared at her again. She had pretty eyes, brown and warm.
"He's been gone four years now…"
"Again, I’m sorry."
She sipped her coffee now and leaned back to relax in her chair. She studied him openly now.
"Where are you from Mr. Harper?" She asked curiously.
"Waco, Ma'am." He answered.
"You're a ways from home then."
"A ways, I suppose."
"Got business in these parts?"
"Look, I don't mean to be ill-mannered ma'am, but the less you know about me the better…"
"Have you broken the law, Mr. Harper?" She seemed to wait for that answer.
"No ma'am. Not exactly."
"Not exactly. How do you not exactly break the law?" She asked with a chuckle. She started to leave but turned back around and stared at him, as though sizing him up.
The man was pleasant, friendly even. It created a strange bond between them. "Do you know a Mr. John Ledbetter?" She asked out of the blue.
"Never heard of him, no…who is he?"
She sighed heavily, then explained. "I guess that's not your concern. Since you don't know who he is. That tells me you aren't a local man for sure. Everyone in these parts knows Ledbetter."
"Is he important to you?"
She almost laughed. "In a way. Most people around here know him, or of him at least. He's the richest man in this territory."
When he showed no reaction she went on. "He's a rancher, and he wants my land." She looked around the room with a heavy sigh. "When my husband died, he started trying to run me off this land. There's a spring that runs through my property that is invaluable to the community. My husband left no will. The land is in his name only. Mr. Ledbetter has taken me to court and is trying to legally take my land from me. So that's what I mean when I say I'm used to trouble. And I wanted to warn you of what might come. If they put me out, they'll put you out too."
"Can he do that?" Les raised up further, now listening intently.
"With a crooked judge, maybe. But my boy and I are not leaving. Not willingly at least. As you can see, I can't function any where but here. They think because I'm an invalid that they can force me off the land saying I am unable to take care of it."
"I can't see you incapable of anything." Les remarked, his eyes going over her in a more personal way. She hadn't had a man look at her like that in years. It startled her at first, and then she smiled. It was kind of nice.
She smiled again and his reaction to it shook him. Why did that smile do things to him? He'd never reacted to a woman quite like this before. It made no sense. Of course the kind of women he indulged in came from saloons, not houses with doilies and lace curtains. He especially never acquainted himself with a crippled one. He wished he could overlook that fact, but it stared at him, reminding him of the barrier between them. Truth was he didn't know any crippled women. It shocked him. Maybe he was just feeling sorry for her. Sure, that's probably what it was.
But that wasn't the case. She was quite capable, that much he knew about her already.
"I've learned to cope with my physical problems, Mr. Harper. I've had to. I learned for myself that you can either lay down and give into it, or you can take up your bed. I chose to take up my bed, after I faced that fact. I've learned to take care of myself, mostly. At least here, in my home. That's why this place is so important to me. It's my haven. In this house, I can move and do just like any other woman. But only here. And I know that."
He glanced at the low counters in the kitchen and he remembered seeing a ramp as he struggled to come into the house. He nodded. "I can see why. Who made all the adjustments?"
"A neighbor. You see, my husband and I were in a buggy, coming home from town four years ago. My husband wanted to show me a beautiful ridge where I could look out over our land, and he took a curve around the ridge too close. The buggy rolled down the cliff. It left him dead, and me paralyzed. That was four years ago. I spent nearly a year not talking to anyone, not taking care of anything. Just laying in a bed and feeling sorry for myself. I was a complete mess. A whole year wasted. Then my neighbor talked some sense into me. He's much older, much wiser. He told me I couldn't live life like that forever, or I could get up and live. He also told me I should heal my inner self or die. He said I had a son to take care of, a place to care for. So he helped me. He built the ramp, he built the counters for me. And now, I can manage completely here in this house. So…moving is out of the question for me. Any where else, I would be just a cripple. Here, I'm capable. They'll have to physically remove me from my home. And there is another reason, it lies out there in the cemetery. Frankie's folks. Neither one of us could leave them, to be trampled by cattlemen. Can you understand that?"
Les thought about what she'd said. The woman had no choice. This was the only place she could ever call home. She was right, she couldn't leave. It might destroy her. And that would be a real sin, he decided, because he knew he liked Mrs. Prescott.
"Is there no hope of ever getting out of that chair?" He asked, his gaze narrowing in on her.
She shrugged. "If I had money, maybe. But I don't. And I probably never will. We barely manage to hang on to this place."
"How much money do you need?" He asked.
"More than I'll ever have. The operation would cost over a $1000. I don't have that kind of money. Not many do."
"How aggressive is this Ledbetter character?" Les asked already having a distaste for the the man.
"I'll lose the case in court, probably. But I've got a couple of weeks before the circuit judge comes to hear it. I've coped with a lot of things Mr. Harper, but losing this ranch…I don't know. I see it as a death warrant. You see, I'm the second Mrs. Prescott. And unfortunately my husband never had the will changed. His first wife died, of consumption. So, legally, this land doesn't belong to me."
Les brow went up. "And is…Frankie your son?"
"No…not by birth at least, in all other ways, he is. I've cared for him since he was a baby. His mother got sick a few weeks after he was born. Mark, my husband needed a wife badly, because of Frankie. He found a lady to feed Frankie, but she didn't take care of him all the time and he had to work the farm. It was a difficult situation. He managed for a short while, and then he met me. For your information, I'm Jewish, you should know that. We are as shunned as a Negro, if you must know. When I came to town, it wasn't appreciated. So Mark and I met and mutually agreed it would be a good bargain for us both, and a week later we married.
"Mark realized what a bind I was in, as they were about to boot me out of the town and send me off in a stagecoach. Mark saw the opportunity. We struck a bargain, he'd marry me, give me a home, and in exchange I would take care of his child, like my own. I agreed."
"Why'd they want to run you out of town?" He asked his gaze narrowing on her lips. She had a beautiful face, now that he looked at her. And when she smiled it lit the room.
"Because I'm different."
"Because you were crippled?"
"No, I wasn't crippled at the time. They knew…" She said quite finally. Then she saw the puzzled look on his face. "Jews have been persecuted since biblical times Mr. Harper."
Les's head turned in question. "Like in the bible, Jewish?"
"Yes, like in the bible."
"And…did you love your husband?"
Les had no idea why he asked that question, but he sure did want to know the answer.
Anna smiled, and turned her head as though questioning him. "You learn to love anyone who helps you. He helped me. I was here to marry another man, but the man I was to marry took off for parts unknown before I arrived. We were both very young and our families had pledged us from birth. He was Jewish too, and I figure they didn't want him any more than they wanted me, here. I have often thought maybe they ran him out of town. I hope he's still alive, somewhere."
Les studied on this.
"I've met a few Jewish people, but I don't know much about them…You'll pardon me ma'am, but you don't look much different than anyone else."
"It doesn't matter. We aren't much different than anyone else except our religion, but since I married I've been attending the little church in the valley. I'm an American first. I was born in America, unlike my parents. And I try to live as anyone else. Once I married Mark, no one judged me again, at least not here, and until now. With my husband dead, I've suddenly become a Jew again, at least to Mr. Ledbetter."
"So they want to run you off this land, so they can have the water, and to heck with you and the boy? They never offered any kind of settlement?" Les asked, probing into her affairs.
"No, as far as they were concerned the land was not mine and they would take it to court and prove it. There was no settlement price discussed."
Les nodded slowly. The unfairness of it hit him right in the heart. God, he didn't need to care about these people he had a job to do, and he couldn't do it laying in this bed, either. But the reality was, he was stuck here for a while, and maybe he could help, somehow.
"What's wrong with being Jewish?" He asked innocently.
She smirked, "People are always afraid of things they don't understand. My people have been persecuted for many centuries. By many different people. But no one has ever answered that question to my satisfaction."
"But you are white, just like me. It's not like you are a woman of color or something." Les remarked.
"And if I was black or Mexican would that make me more acceptable? No…it would not. The one thing people never understand is that we are all made by one God. We are brothers and sisters, no matter the color of our skin."
Les stared at her long and hard. "I guess…you are right. One of my best friends is a black man."
She smiled, "I bet that doesn't make you very popular."
"In my line of work, no one cares." Les sighed.
"Exactly what is your line of work?" She asked gently.
"I don't know you very well, Anna Prescott, but I think it's best not to go into that, at the moment. The less you know, the better."
"You keep saying that, but it makes me feel at such a disadvantage. You don't trust me?" She asked, almost in a hurt voice. "I've sit here an shared everything with you, and you've shared nothing."
"No…it's not that. I just don't know you. And the less you know, the less trouble you'll be in." He remarked casually. "So how long before I can use this leg."
"Give it a few days. You'll be hoping around the place by then…" She assured him and started to go into the other room.
"Where are you going?" He asked, putting a hand over hers on the arm of her chair.
She looked down at his big hand. "I have work to do."
There was a blush on her face that fascinated him. How long had it been since he'd known a woman who blushed?
"Would…you leave the door open, then?" He asked.
"Of course…" She looked at him curiously. "If you need anything, just holler."
"Thank you…for everything…" He said.
She removed his hand and smiled, "You're welcome…Mr. Harper."
"Can you please call me Les?" He asked softly. "I don't think anyone calls me Mr. Harper."
She looked into his eyes, "Of course…"
She slowly wheeled herself into the kitchen to begin cooking dinner. But she cast him a quick glance as she managed to put a pot of beans on the stove. He was truly one of the most handsome men, she'd ever seen, in a rugged sort of way. Not exactly handsome like Mr. Harvey, but in a manly sort of way.