DAY 6
"You sure you're up to this, Vin?"
The tracker looked up from beneath his hat brim to fix a steady gaze on Chris in the graying light of not-yet morning. The livery horse Buck had saddled for him stamped nervously, and Vin pulled in the reins somewhat awkwardly with his right hand, then flexed the fingers of his left hand as he looked at them thoughtfully. Nathan, observing, threw a glance at Chris and cleared his throat.
"I'll stay close to 'im, Chris. But don't you use that arm, Vin. I put it in a sling to keep that wound closed, but you go tryin' to use it to ride or shoot that damn mare's leg--"
"I gave 'im a pistol," interrupted Buck, his voice tight. "The man wants to go. So do I." He looked around the gathered group with a face darkened by banked emotion and the heavy shadow of his hat, his eyes gleaming sharply once. His voice slid into the smooth, honeyed tones of lethal. "So let's ride."
Chris nodded, turned his black over its hocks in single whirl of motion, and legged it to lead off in a jog down the silent street, the others stringing out to follow. Vin reined up suddenly just at the edge of town, and the others pulled in when they realized he had stopped. He was staring intently into the shadows of the boardwalk, the bay he rode backing several steps nervously. He legged it forward again, toward whatever he was seeing, and Chris rode back to join him as a sudden indescribable air of menace ran through Vin's frame like a lightning bolt. The tracker's voice was a thick, heavy hiss when he spoke to the unseen person in the shadows as Chris reined in.
"You got somethin' to say to me, face to face?"
Chris looked into the shadows, searching, and felt a jolt of surprise when he realized that he was seeing the dark and skirted form of a woman pressing itself in terror against the wall of the building.
"No. No." Mrs. Lansing's voice trembled in a way that made a sardonic smile twist Chris's lips.
"Well, that's good," said Vin. His voice took the hard edge of a man controlling his temper only with great will. "But I got somethin' to say to you. So you listen good. Miz Travis is up in Nathan's room lookin' after Miz Jones today. Now I paid that hotel cook for three squares for Miz Jones while we're gone, an' you're the one who's goin' to go get those trays an' take 'em up the stairs to 'er. Each meal. An' bring down the tray after she's done. Three times up, three times down. I don't want Miz Travis or nobody else havin' to carry those heavy trays up an' down those stairs. Savvy?"
"Yes." Mrs. Lansing's choking voice struggled a moment, then she coughed. "Yes. Yes, Mr. Tanner. I'll see to it."
Vin twisted his forearm to tighten the reins and legged his horse onto the bit, glaring at the woman more intently. His eyes snapped suddenly in the dim light. "An' make yourself scarce while she eats. I wouldn't want anything t' spoil 'er appetite." Then he dipped his head to touch his hat brim with the fingers of his injured hand, and legged the bay into a thundering gallop. Only after he had cleared the last outbuildings and reached open road did he rein back to a safer pace more suitable to the dim light. Chris pulled in next to him with an appreciative but bitter laugh, and Vin shook his head angrily.
"She had it comin', Chris."
"Won't get any argument from me," agreed Chris smoothly, and the younger man nodded again, curtly.
The still unseen sun was starting to light the eastern horizon with a pale yellow glow that threw the low hills there into sharp black relief as the men drew rein near the gate to Opal's peach farm. Vin worked his way up and down the road quickly, eyes on the ground, then nodded.
"Those deep ruts are from that heavy gold wagon. We'll have no problem followin' 'em, even on the road here." He spurred his horse into a jog and wheeled off to follow the marks down the road for several miles. Suddenly he reined in and pointed at a place where the deep ruts left it to head across country, their marks still visible in the iron-hard ground. He looked silently at Chris, who rocked gently in his saddle and stood in his stirrups to look off in the direction the tracks were heading in the brightening morning. But it was Buck who spoke.
"Goin' right where that so-called 'sergeant' said they were." His voice was soft.
Chris nodded. "And they'll have to cross the river right where we figured, that being the case." He looked at the other men, one by one, and they nodded to him firmly in turn. Their faces were grim but their eyes gleamed dangerously. Chris turned to regard Vin a final time, checking the way the wounded man was sitting the bay and the pale color of his face now that it was light enough to see. "We'll have to ride awful hard to beat them there," he said.
Vin shot a lightning-quick glance at Chris that struck like a snake, and spurred the bay into a sudden gallop that threw stones up from its hooves to startle the other horses. Buck sent his gray into a low, stretched-out run next to him, and the others followed, their horses settling into the ground-eating strides that were the only hope of getting to a place of ambush in time to have a chance against the odds they faced. Chris exchanged one long and silent look with Nathan, watched as the healer drew his own mount up closer to Vin's, and then concentrated on the ride.
Even riding hard and cutting across canyons where the heavy wagon could not go, it took over half the day for the seven to reach the river crossing. Once there, they rode up the back of a low bluff that sat back some distance from the crossing and took cover behind an outcropping of rock to wait.
"Are we sure we haven't missed 'em already?" JD was worming his way up between Chris and Buck on his elbows, and Buck turned to snatch the bowler off his head and throw it to the ground.
"Do you SEE any of the torn-up ruts that heavy wagon would leave in the river bank? Huh? No!" He growled and pushed himself back from the edge of the bluff to rise to his feet in a location where he couldn't be seen from below. After all that time hurrying to get here, waiting was driving Buck to the edge. He absentmindedly rolled a small pebble in his hand while his foot tapped continuously on the ground. The tapping was starting to get to Chris but the look in Buck's eyes kept him from saying anything. Their blue depths were clouded by a fury they were all feeling, fueled by thoughts of the attacks on Vin and Opal, the murdering of the soldiers, and the stealing of the gold shipment from right under their noses. But more than anything, Buck's fury was fueled by thoughts of what might have happened to Julianna.
They heard the men before they saw them. The rumble of the loaded wagon's wheels on the hard ground above the river bottom and the heavy drumming of horse hooves rose to the top of the bluff on the hot, still air. The men -- about 30 of them -- rode haphazardly into the clearing and urged their mounts down the river terrace to the sandy bottom area without taking the time or effort to watch for possible pursuers. Through his scope Vin watched as a man in the lead began to gesture to the group, clearly directing them to split up to do several different things. About ten of the men dismounted immediately with exclamations of relief and coarse laughter. They took off their heavy gunbelts and hung them on their saddles, and then removed axes from their packs and started walking off towards a thick stand of cottonwood trees farther downriver. The wagon, which had been in the middle of the group, rolled to a stop on the sand.
"What are they doin'?" JD tried to keep his voice low as he watched the first group of men disappearing through the trees downriver, as a second group dismounted and began to unpack ropes and hitches.
"They'll chop down some of the trees, lash 'em to the sides of the wagon to float it a little. It'll make it easier gettin' the wagon across the river." Vin had seen the same technique used many times before.
"Gentlemen, may I suggest that we take action before the wagon is taken across the river. I do not relish the idea of having to bring it back." At any other time Ezra's mocking tone might have elicited a smile from one of the others. This time, Chris only said:
"Not a bad idea, although--"
"Vin, do ya see . . . ?" Buck's voice interrupted Chris's, but then trailed off as if he was afraid to finish the question. Vin shook his head sadly and continued to search the group below.
"Wait . . . there she is, with the wagon." A splash of pink near the river had caught his eye. He handed the scope to Buck so that he could see for himself. "She's standin' next to the far side of it."
Buck watched Julianna through the scope as she paced the length of the wagon and then turned back to stand near the rear gate, leaning slightly against it. He could see where the sleeve of her dress had been torn and wished he had a better view of her, to see if she were injured.
"What's the plan?" Buck put down the scope and turned toward his friends.
"I think our best shot is --" Chris's words were cut short by a woman's scream from below. Buck raised the scope again and saw that Julianna was laying face down on the soft sand of the riverbed. Tucker knelt behind her undoing the front of his pants.
"NO!" Buck dropped the scope and ran for his horse. The grey's head jerked up with a snort as Buck spurred him into a run, and began to charge down the steep bluff.
"Damn it, Buck!" Chris yelled in exasperation as he raced for his horse with Ezra on his heels.
Grady Ward, still wearing the uniform of the lieutenant he'd killed, scowled when he heard the sounds from above and looked up to see riders storming down the bluff. "Tucker!" he screamed, "Get that damn wagon out of here!"
Tucker looked up in surprise at Grady's voice. "Damn," Tucker swore under his breath. He grabbed Julianna's hair and pulled her to her feet. "Get up in there." Tucker climbed up after her, grabbing the reins and whipping the horses. The team strained against the load, digging into the sand with surprised grunts and then with squeals of fright as Tucker's whip bit into their backs and shoulders. The wagon rocked, and then moved so suddenly that Julianna was thrown off her feet and to the wagonbed, among the crates.
Chris continued to swear as he and Ezra rode hard down the bluff in Buck's wake. The surprise of Buck's charge had evened out the odds, as the lean man on the gray horse had managed to place himself between the wagon and any of its escort, his horse being the only one at first to race behind the lumbering vehicle as it rattled and bounced its way back up the bank. The men who had already gone a considerable distance downriver turned at the sounds of gunfire and starting to run back to their horses and weapons. While the group that had dismounted to unpack ropes ran for their mounts, the ten who had never yet dismounted, including Ward, wheeled their horses to race off behind Buck and the wagon, throwing shots over their shoulders to slow down Chris and Ezra who had come down the bluff at their heels.
Chris and Ezra returned fire. A pair of men fell leaving eight others between them and Buck. Ezra winced when he heard a bullet whistle past his ear, and moved his horse out to the right of the group they were chasing. Chris swung his black out to the left at the same time. The two exchanged a brief, knowing nod across the distance between them; one of them should be able to get around and in front of the men cutting them off from the wagon and Buck. A moment later, Chris let out a shallow cry as a bullet caught his left arm. He felt warm blood oozing out over his skin, but shut the pain out of his mind as he continued to ride.
Chris's next shot felled the horse under Grady, sending him spiralling into the ground. The screaming horse and shower of sand that exploded on impact of mount and rider threw a dam up in front of the charging group of men, and they threw their mounts to their right to avoid piling into Grady's wreck and going down themselves. Ezra seized that opportunity to push his chestnut at a whistling pace through a handful of cottonwood trees that afforded a short cut, to come out a dozen yards ahead of the men as they turned. He pointed a pair of guns at the approaching men and they brought their horses to a skittish halt in front of the gambler.
"Gentlemen, if you'll be so kind as to surrender your weapons." Ezra's face was dark.
The men exchanged hesitant looks. They turned at the sound of a moan from behind them. Grady was limping toward the group with Chris following. It began to register on the men's surprised minds that with Chris behind them, they were caught in a cross-fire if their pursuers elected to take advantage of it. Further, the sight of their leader disarmed and injured was less than encouraging. With slow movements and low imprecations, the men started throwing down their guns in defeat. Chris made his way up to join Ezra. The gambler spoke without taking his eyes from the prisoners.
"I hope that Mr. Wilmington is having some success."
Chris threw a quick, anxious glance over his shoulder toward the bend in the river where the wagon had disappeared.
Tucker heard the shots behind him as the team roared up the slope onto the road, the heavy wagon rumbling like thunder. He hoped Grady and the others would finish off the irritating gunmen before they could get to him. A yell behind him caused him to look quickly over his shoulder. Buck was approaching and gaining ground rapidly, his horse flying in comparison to the heavily-loaded wagon.
"This oughta slow him down." Tucker pulled the pistol from his gunbelt and shot wildly over his shoulder. He grunted in shock as a pair of fists came down hard on the back of his neck. Julianna landed a second blow with her bound hands but it did little except irritate Tucker. She dodged the fist he threw over his shoulder.
"You damn wh--," Tucker's words went from cursing Julianna to a bark of exasperation as she struck him again. This blow caught on the man's wrist, knocking his gun from his hand. He wound the reins loosely around his forearm so that his hands were free to grab Julianna's dark hair and jerk her head forward, pulling the woman from the bed of the wagon half into the seat.
Buck watched helplessly as the two struggled, Julianna half-over the partition and Tucker turned around almost backwards. Julianna scream in pain as Tucker pulled her farther forward by her head as the wagon hit a dip in the road at a tremendous rate of speed for such a heavy vehicle. The bounce threw Tucker to his feet, so that he seemed to come to an almost standing position. His body swayed and began to fall backwards from the wagon, over the front. With a final pleading effort he reached out, begging Julianna to pull him back in, but the woman was thrown backwards into the wagon bed by the jarring. Tucker screamed, his face twisted in horror, as he tumbled from the wagon and was pulled beneath its rumbling wheels by the terrified team's running.
Tucker's screams of pain fused with the clamor of their hoof beats, creating a sound that seemed to rise from hell itself. The reins he'd wrapped around his arm pulled snug and held him to the team so that he was dragged beneath the wagon's wheels for what seemed an eternity, instead of breaking free of it. Julianna sank down against the crates and closed her eyes at the hideous sound of Tucker's bones being crushed under the wagon's weight as it threw him beneath one set of wheels and then another. She was vaguely aware that the wagon was slowing. Her pale eyes opened as the horses came to a stop under Buck's direction.
Julianna climbed out of the wagon slowly. Her legs felt rubbery and she clutched the side of the wagon afraid that she would faint. Tucker's body lay half under the wagon and she watched as the last remnants of life ebbed from it. A hand on her shoulder made her jump.
"It's okay now. You're safe."
The moment Tucker whipped up the wagon team to drag the heavy wagon from the sand back up onto higher and firmer ground, the fight broke into three parts. Even as Chris and Ezra were pursuing Buck down the bluff and into the dust and flying sand raised by the riders who had chosen to stick close to the gold, the men at the foot of the bluff who'd been laying out ropes mounted up and wheeled their horses to charge upslope in an effort to provide cover to their unarmed companions in the trees down river. JD found himself suddenly standing in a crouch, both of his pistols firing simultaneously at no fewer than five riders whose horses were leaping up the steep slope with bunched forequarters and heaving sides. He saw two men fall backwards over their cantles before a strong hand grabbed the back of his shirtcollar and jerked him off his feet and sideways as the loose horses, suddenly lighter without their riders, crashed through the very place JD had been standing, their eyes rolling in fright and their stirrups banging wildly against empty saddles.
"GET DOWN!" Josiah roared. He bent over JD to fire several times nearly point-blank at a third rider who had reached the summit to wheel his horse and lower his pistol at the two men. JD heard a strangled cry as the man fell, and pushed his way clear of Josiah to see that the preacher was rising to take steady aim on the next one even as a fifth was siting in on the preacher with a rifle. JD and Josiah fired at right angles, across one another's lines of sight, and the two false troopers fell at almost the same instant with one of them rolling to rise to one knee. JD fired again, but the hammer fell on an empty chamber, and he dropped below the curtain of smoke that was starting to drift along the bluff top from all the gunfire to reload with shaking fingers. He looked around quickly to see where Josiah had gone, but the enormous preacher had vanished.
A quick pounding of boots on the earth told JD his assailant had spotted the place where he'd dropped into the smoke and was running up even now to kill him, and he struggled with the last shell as the cylinder caught and would not close. He looked up to see the brown eyes of a stranger in a cavalry uniform looking down at him triumphantly, the dark barrel of the man's pistol looming like a train tunnel. Then, unexpectedly, he saw crimson blossom on the man's chest as pistolfire crashed loudly in his ear. JD threw himself to one side as he whirled to see what had happened, only to see Vin standing there, pistol smoking, his face dark and the once-white sling dark with dirt and gunpowder. JD leapt to his feet with a gasp of thanks, and Vin nodded to him, melting backwards into the drifting smoke as he did so. JD threw another look around the immediate vicinity and followed.
Almost immediately he ran into Josiah, who was swinging into the saddle of his horse as JD emerged from the cloud of smoke. Nathan was mounting, too, but Vin was moving on foot down the bluff, slipping off to one side and melting into the rising dust and smoke like an apparition. JD jumped when Nathan yelled to him to mount up, and grabbed the reins of his chestnut to vault into the saddle as his friends legged their animals down the slope towards a second group of charging horsemen. He jammed his hat down more tightly on his head and gritted his teeth. A charge down the throat of a group of riders twice their number wasn't the strategy he would have chosen, but what the hell did he know? If Josiah and Nathan thought it made sense, he was with them all the way.
The next thing he knew it seemed like the three of them were bowling down horses as if they were ninepins on a bocci field back east. Three horses squealed and slid backwards on the steep slope as Nathan and Josiah plowed through them, their riders falling hard and rolling downslope in long plumes of dust. A blaze-faced bay reared up in fright and went over backwards, then rose up to gallop off wildly leaving its rider in an awkward position, deathly still. JD realized suddenly he couldn't really hear the gunfire any more; it had become a general din that was so loud nothing stood out from it. He was aware only of the recoil of the pistol against his hand each time he pulled the trigger and of the occasional zipping sound of a bullet flying too close to him, cutting the air as it passed. Then he felt his horse stumble, catch herself, and straighten up as she reached the bottom of the bluff and came out on the level sand. He looked around to see that Nathan and Josiah had come down the bluff at this location in order to head off the dismounted men who were making a run for their weapons. The pair wheeled their horses to face the group and Josiah fired into the air with a report that rang like a cannon in the sudden stillness that descended.
Everyone froze and stood, breathing hard, looking around.
The bluff slope was littered with dead or injured men, and loose horses stood here and there, bridles down, or galloped away into the distance. Only four of the men originally on horseback in this group were still mounted, and they regarded Josiah and Nathan for a long, pregnant moment while their unarmed companions watched them weigh the odds. JD swallowed, his thumb moving nervously against the hammer of his pistol, and ran his gaze quickly from Josiah to the nearest of the riders and then back again.
"We got you outnumbered," said this man suddenly, his voice full of challenge and his black eyes flashing with contempt.
"We got you outgunned, Brother," countered Josiah evenly.
The man grimaced as if he'd tasted something bad, then threw his weapon to the sand with a curse. The others followed suit, and JD sighed. He watched as Nathan dismounted to collect the surrendered weapons, and saw the healer's eyes dart quickly across the ground all along the bluff and riverbank as he did so.
It made JD realize, with a sudden start and then a painful sinking feeling, that he had no idea where Vin was.
Vin slipped through the dust and smoke, his mind focused on a single objective: finding Barry Jones. Near the bottom of the bluff on the downriver side, the haze parted and he saw a clearing bordered by a small grove of cottonwood trees. A familiar figure stood on the opposite side of the clearing. Vin moved cautiously toward the blaze-faced mount.
"Hey, old friend." Vin reached out and caressed his horse's nose. The horse gave a low nicker, grateful to see the tracker.
"A man and his horse, what a pretty picture." Vin knew the owner of the voice without turning. He'd heard it too many times before. He turned slowly, his good hand resting on the pistol tucked into the waistband of his pants.
"It's over, Barry."
Barry laughed at the words and waved his drawn pistol at Vin menacingly. He took three steps to the left and began to pace back and forth with his gun aimed at Vin.
"I got to admit, I'm a little surprised to see you. I thought I had better aim. Guess Tucker was right, I shoulda' checked."
"I guess you shoulda."
"Oh well, one out of two ain't bad I suppose. Though I have to say that a little bit of me hated having to shoot my dear wife." Barry paused waiting to see if Vin would react.
"Your aim must be worse than you thought. Opal's alive." Vin's face tightened. "And you ain't gonna hurt her again." Anger flashed in Barry's eyes.
"Oh, have you suddenly become her protector? I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. I always heard you were a little soft when it came to Indians. You want her? 'Cause if you do, go ahead, have her. I was tired of her anyway."
Barry's attention was diverted for a half second by the sound of gunfire nearby, and Vin took the opportunity to leap towards him and knock the pistol from his hand with a quick blow. Barry lunged forward into the tracker, throwing a punch that connected with his jaw. Vin staggered back at the force of the blow, and the larger man rushed at him again, catching him around the waist and knocking them both to the ground. Vin fell hard, unable to catch himself with one arm bound in the sling and the other trying to block blows from the larger man.
Both men coughed from the dirt kicked up as they rolled away from the horse. Barry's hands encircled Vin's neck, squeezing tightly. Vin felt the ground blindly with his good hand, scraping together a handful of dirt. With a burst of strength he flung the dirt and pebbles into Barry's face and the man rolled off of Vin wiping the debris from his eyes.
Vin leaped to his feet, breathing heavily, and jerked the sling off his injured arm so he could defend himself from another onslaught. The pain from the shoulder wound shot through his body as he did so, and Barry stood up and rushed at Vin again before the tracker could even regain his breath. Vin quickly stepped to the right to avoid the rush, and Barry howled in frustration as he turned to face Vin again. The younger man drew the pistol from his waistband as he did so, as Barry pulled a large knife from his boot and surged forward a final time. The man moved quickly with a renewed strength that was more than Vin thought he still had in him. Vin bent to one side, barely escaping the blade of Barry's knife, and pulled the trigger.
The bullet ripped through Barry's throat at close range, twisting his face in horror. He stumbled for several yards before falling to the ground. Vin's weakened body carried him to the dying man. He stood over the body as the blood soaked into the hardened earth.
"That was for Opal," he said.
Chris was tired, cross, and his arm hurt like hell. The men he was herding back to the river knew it, too, and they rode in silence with their faces turned away from the furious gunman. Ezra said something in a low and deadly voice to one of the riders on the other side of the bunch, and Chris threw the gambler an appraising look. He reined in briefly as the riverbank suddenly came into view at the foot of the slope, and ran his eyes quickly along the groups of men he saw there.
At least fifteen men were sitting on the sand, their knees drawn up and their arms behind them. Josiah was standing in the midst of the group like a farmer in a field of beans, bent over tying the hands of one of them as Chris watched. JD was sitting on his mare off to one side and a little ways up the bluff, a rifle held up to his chest and his face alert. Nathan was kneeling in the sand next to a small row of prisoners off to one side who sat in the awkward, pained postures of injured men; he was wrapping a long bandage around the head of one of them. Chris sat up with a start when he saw a solitary figure approaching this group slowly on foot from downriver, leading a blaze-faced black horse. He threw a glance to Buck and Ezra, who nodded and brought their horses in closer to the prisoners as Chris spurred his black into a long lope to intercept Vin. He got to the tracker just as the younger man swayed and then dropped suddenly to his knees. Chris placed a hand on the tracker's good shoulder as Nathan ran up to kneel and look into Vin's face.
"You hurt anyplace new?"
Vin shook his head, panting, his breath coming in short gasps. Nathan looked up at Chris with a sigh and then pulled back the collar and one side of Vin's shirt. Chris realized with a sudden pang that the bandages beneath it were bloodied again, as was the shirt. The sling was missing, and Vin was cradling his injured arm with his good one, his head bowed as he got his breath back. Chris looked up and watched as Ezra, Josiah, and JD moved the two groups of prisoners together and tightened their control of them, then looked down again as Nathan lifted the dressing over the wound to peer beneath it, and then set it back in place. The healer rocked back onto his heels and studied Vin's face as the latter's breathing evened out and grew steadier again.
"You think you c'n stand up now, if we help ya'?" The healer's question was genuine; and he watched Vin's face for an answer as much as he listened to his words. The tracker looked up, light and dark eyes meeting and holding, and nodded.
"Yeah, I think so," he said softly.
Nathan and Chris helped Vin to his feet, and he swayed a moment, but then got his balance, blinked slowly at Nathan, and sighed as the healer nodded to him and began to speak again.
"All right," he said gently, "jus' take it slow an' come over here into the shade. Have a little water, sit there a minute, you'll be ok." He guided Vin by his good elbow, slowly, and then eased the man down to sit beneath an enormous cottonwood. Chris handed Vin his canteen, and the younger man drank from it gratefully, then put his head against the gray trunk behind him and closed his eyes. The gunman noticed with a start that Vin's jaw was swelling and turning purple where he'd been hit, and that bright blood was speckled across his shirt front in a way whose meaning he knew all too well. Nathan stood up from where he'd bent a final time over the tracker, and turned to face Chris.
"He'll be ok if he's quiet a while. The wound broke open again, but the bleedin's already slowin' down. Make sure he drinks some more water before we mount up, though. I gotta' finish bindin' up some a' the fella's over there before you take 'em off to hand over to the army." The healer startled and interrupted himself. "Wait a minute, Chris. What's happened to your arm? Lemme' look at that."
"It's all right, Nathan." Chris turned veiled eyes to the healer and shook his head. "Just a flesh wound." He nodded towards Buck, who had lifted Julianna from his horse and was giving her water in the shade of the bluff. "Miz Carson needs you, though." He sighed heavily, and Nathan fixed him with a sharp look that made Chris nod with a grim tightening of his lips. The healer turned without another word and headed across the sand towards her. As he got closer he saw that several long locks of her hair had fallen from their pins in disarray, and that the bodice and one sleeve of her dress were torn so badly that Buck had removed his coat and was settling it over her shoulders.
"Miz Carson?" Nathan knelt in front of the woman and waited for her to look up at him. When she did, slowly, her eyes were dark with a dazed expression that seemed to focus on and recognize Nathan only with great effort. She sighed, a long shuddering sound full of grief that rattled the bits of fabric at the edge of the torn bodice, and then lowered her eyes once more to stare unseeingly inward. Nathan looked up at Buck from where he knelt in front of her. "She been like this the whole time?"
Buck shook his head. "She fought 'im. I think at the end it was just too much. He didn't go pretty, if you get my meanin'."
Julianna sobbed, suddenly, once. A single sound that caused her eyes to squeeze shut in pain and her head to bow, her hands going to her face. "Oh God," she moaned, "Oh God."
"It's all right now, Miz Julianna. It's gonna' be all right." Nathan took one of her hands in his and clasped it tightly. The woman looked up at him with a flash of pain.
"No," she said softly, her voice ragged with grief, "it can't ever be all right. He -- he killed Opal. Her husband, he. . ." She lowered her face again and clenched the hand that was free into a fist.
"Miz Opal's alive, Ma'am." Nathan's voice was indescribably gentle.
"Alive?" Julianna's head shot up to regard Nathan with astonishment, and she turned quickly to ask Buck for confirmation when the healer nodded silently. The tall man smiled sadly.
"She's at Nathan's," he explained. "She probably don't feel too good right now, but she's gonna' be all right."
"An' you will be, too." Nathan patted the woman's hand and smiled more broadly as he saw hope rising in her eyes like a warm sunrise. "What you need to do is rest an' drink some more water. Eat a little somethin' if you can. It's a long ride back t' town, an' you'll be needin' your stren'th."
Julianna's lips trembled a moment as she took Nathan's hands into her own, and squeezed them.
Opal is alive, she thought over and over again, Opal is still alive.
Crimson fingers trailed behind the sun as it slowly dipped below the horizon. A light breeze provided a bit of relief for the quartet of weary riders entering town. They had ridden hard to make it back before dark, stopping
only briefly a handful of times to rest the horses and for Nathan to check on Vin.
The horses came to a halt in front of Nathan's clinic. Julianna tried to get down out of the saddle without waiting for assistance. Her foot caught on the stirrup threatening to send her tumbling forward. A pair of strong hands caught her waist keeping her from landing on the hard packed earth.
Buck's eyes twinkled as he helped Julianna stand. "I told you to wait till I could help you down. You don't need to break a leg trying to get up there." Buck nodded toward Nathan's rooms.
"I know." No matter how many times they'd reassured her that Opal was alive, a part of Julianna still believed that it was impossible.
"Go ahead ma'am." Nathan motioned for Julianna to take the lead. Her eyes still held the hazy look that she'd had at the riverbank. She'd been quiet on the ride back, barely speaking when they'd stopped to rest. He knew she was strong, but Nathan worried that Julianna might never be the same.
She knew that she was running up the stairs but she felt as if she was moving in slow motion, her legs heavy and difficult to raise. She paused at the door scared as to what she would see on the other side. Her hand shook as she opened the door hesitantly.
"Opal?" Julianna's voice was barely audible in the quiet room. The older woman who had been sleeping stirred slightly. Julianna crossed the room and sat down carefully on the bed next to her. Tears formed in her eyes as she examined her friend. Crude stitches kept the cut on her head closed. The skin around it was mottled black and purple.
Julianna hesitantly reached out to touch Opal's face. She was afraid that if she touched her, Opal would fade away, like a desert mirage. Her fingertips lightly ran along Opal's cheek. Julianna let out a sigh of relief, unaware of the fact that she'd been holding her breath.
Opal's eyelids fluttered. She was still drowsy and for a moment believed that she must still be dreaming. "Julianna?" she whispered. Tears streamed down Julianna's face at the sound of her name. Hot tears began to run down Opal's face as well.
Julianna's head dropped into Opal's lap. Opal reached out and stroked her hair gently. Both women were oblivious to the three men standing in the doorway. Nathan pulled the door closed leaving the two women to spend a few
moments alone.