Gather The Children (Chronicles of the Maca Book 2) (33 page)

His hands were strong and gentle, but she could only look at him blankly, nothing penetrated. He looked down. “We were too far out. We didn't think they would be this close and—where's Martin?”

Brigetta managed to sob out words. “He's hurt. He tried to fight.”

More hooves were pounding behind them. Lorenz looked up and yelled. “Martin's inside and she says he's hurt.” He turned and half-carried, half-pulled her with him as he hurried towards the door.

Martin was still on the floor, the blood pooling around him and covering his shoulder. Brigetta remembered thinking;
I'll never be able to get it out of the floor or his clothes
. Lorenz propped her in a chair, and knelt beside Martin as a man outside screamed. The scream was followed by a gurgle. Lorenz tore his shirt off and used it to stem the blood as he pushed the skin on Martin's head back together.

MacDonald barreled into the room. “How bad tis it?”

“Bad, needs sewing.”

MacDonald looked at Brigetta, and she pulled her nightgown closer. She saw his eyes evaluate her, and then reject the idea of any help. He turned towards the stove and said, “I'll stir up the fire. I need some hair from a horse's mane and a needle. They must be boiled. Keep holding that together until friend Rolfe comes in.”

Rolfe banged in the door as MacDonald was speaking, and he joined Lorenz on the floor. “Du go get the hair. I'll take care of my poy.”

Lorenz stood and ran out the door. Brigetta stood up and took a deep breath. Were these men rejecting her as a fallen woman, or did they just assume she was useless? The gown started to sag, and she ran towards the bedroom and hid behind the curtain. She heard MacDonald at the stove and water being poured. “We twill need some bandages and a large needle.”

“Ja, ve can cut off material from vone of the rolls. Maybe the voman knows vhere the needles are.”

Brigetta understood not a word being said and this was her house and her husband. From somewhere strength poured back into her. Needle? Was that the word Mina had used for nadle? Were they were going to sew up Martin's head? What did men know about sewing? She heard Lorenz come back into the house. She belted on the robe she'd bought with the last of her money and walked back out to see MacDonald pawing at her gifts. “What are you looking for?”

He looked at her and must have seen the difference in her eyes. He gave a rueful smile. “A needle large enough to hold the hair from the horse's mane we are using for thread. We also need a cloth for washing the blood away.” His German was decent, but the accent thick.

Brigetta moved to find what he needed.

“Friend Rolfe, I twill need some of your whiskey. Twill work as a cleanser.”

“Ja, du know vhere it is.”

Brigetta found the items MacDonald requested, but she held onto the needle. “How do you intend to thread it?”

The big man had removed his hat and hung it on a chair horn. His black hair was plastered against his head, and he grinned at her. “By letting you do it.” He moved over by the stove, fished the bottle out of the back of the cabinet, took the basin from the washstand, and added some of the water from the pot.

Brigetta watched, fascinated at the sight of the two violent, older men bathing Martin's head. She heard Lorenz grunt as he fished a piece of hair out of the boiling water and brought it to her. There was nothing but concern in those grey eyes. She assumed the concern was for Martin as she threaded the needle and moved over to the men.

“When you're through, I'll start to sew.”

The respect in MacDonald's brown eyes made her stand straighter. “Hold the needle and thread over the basin and I'll pour the whiskey over it.”

She hesitated a moment and did as he directed.

MacDonald liberally dumped the alcohol over the needle and her hands. “Can you make the stitches cross over each other?”

She nodded and he continued, “If you begin to feel ill, say so. Do not be ashamed. We've seen grown men faint at the sight of blood. His father and I will hold him. Lorenz, come hold the skin together for Frau Rolfe.”

Brigetta knelt and took a deep breath and began to sew. The skin was surprisingly tough to penetrate, and she ground her teeth together. Finally the bloody job was done and they were wrapping Martin's head in bandages. When they finished, MacDonald hoisted him into his arms like a baby and carried him to the bedroom.

She stood and blinked her eyes. The basin, filled with red fluid was still on the floor. She laid the needle on the table and picked up the basin to carry it outside. Suddenly Lorenz was in front of her speaking in German. “Frau Rolfe, let me do that.” He smiled down at her. “You don't need to see what's out there.”

She looked up at him and closed her eyes. He was right. She did not want to see those two men again. She suspected they were both dead, and without a word, she handed the basin to him.

MacDonald returned and retrieved his hat, and he spoke in Deutsch. “Mrs. MacDonald and I will be back tomorrow to see how you two are doing.” He patted her shoulder. “He will be fine in the morning except for a raging headache. Martin has chosen wisely.”

“Ja, gut stock.” Her father-in-law was standing there, eyeing her and he too used Deutsch. “You will make him a good wife. Mac and I will take care of things outside, and Lorenz will stand guard the rest of the night.” He looked at his friend and continued in English. “Ve haf a visit to make at Sheltons.”

MacDonald nodded his head and they stepped outside.

As the door closed behind them, Brigetta looked at the rosewood organ, gleaming softly in the lamplight. It sat silent in the corner, the one decent piece of furniture left by Olga. “We are starting to build the extra room,” Olga had confided that afternoon. “Uncle Mac will help us move it.” Like so many of Olga's dreams, the organ would remain closed and silent for another year.

Anna ignored the sweat trickling down her nose as she and Mina continued to weed in the garden. Six-year-old Mina was becoming such a help. The sun had lost its heat-of-the-day intensity, but since this was the end of August the huge dark clouds kept building and the weather became stickier and stickier, the smell of rain in the air mixing with the dust coating everything. The work was good though and would keep her from thinking. Lorenz had gone with the Rolfe's on the drive to market, and Mr. MacDonald was watching both places.

He had gone into the foothills as this was a slow time on the ranch. After breakfast, just before he left, he came in with a bemused look on his face. “Lorenz just talked to me in my mind. They twill be here this afternoon.”

Anna looked at him blankly and shook her head. “How could he from so far away?”

“I dinna. He has gone beyond me. I think, mayhap, he is now the teacher.” He smiled and gave her a hug. “I twill see ye ere supper.”

Anna knew he was using the time to study at the “machine” as she thought of it. Lorenz should be home at any time, and then she could quit worrying. He was already late in her mind, and she knew of all the evils on the trail and in the trail towns. She did not trust Herman Rolfe to prevent Lorenz and Martin from doing something stupid. Martin was steadier than his father, but he was young and three months away from his wife was a long time.

It was gunshots that roused her and straightened her back: First one, then two, then two more in rapid succession. The sounds came from the direction of the foothills, and Zeb would be coming home now. She dropped her hoe, grabbed Mina's hand, and ran to the gate. Her first thought was for the shotgun over the front door and they ran into the house, Mina repeating and repeating, “Mama, Mama, what's wrong.”

Finally she answered, “I don't know.” Her stomach was tight and so was her breathing. She knew this was bad and Zeb needed her. Pray God he was still alive. She took Mina to the cabin built for Ramon and his wife. Ramon was with Lorenz, but Armeda was there with her newborn. She shoved Mina inside and yelled, “Something has happened. Please vatch her. If Lorenz and Ramon come home, send them toward the foothills.” And she raced away, not bothering to hitch the team. The shots were too close for that.

She found him just outside the pasture, walking slowly and painfully, holding onto Zark's stirrup. When he saw her, he slumped forward on his knees, and crumbled, the wound in his lower back dripping blood.

He turned his head to look at her, his mouth forming words she barely heard. “'Twas Shelton's gunnies. Tell Lorenz – to – warn Herman.”

Anna ripped away his shirt and saw the bullet had taken a downward course. She used his knife to cut away her petticoat and staunch the bleeding What did she do now? She could not move him even with her strength, and help was too far away. If she left him he would die, and if she stayed he would die. It was then she heard the hoof beats, and Lorenz was riding toward her. She used the remaining part of her petticoat to tie down the material over the wound, ignoring the dirt that had collected on it as she ran it under his body.

“Ve must get him home!” she shouted at Lorenz. “Get help.”

Lorenz took one look and swung his horse around. She did not know how long she sat there holding Zeb's hand, telling him not to give up when Lorenz and Ramon appeared dragging a door behind Lorenz's horse.

Somehow between the three of them they shifted MacDonald onto the door, belly down. Lorenz looped a shorter length of rope around his body and door and tied him to the improvised travois.

“Not too tight,” she admonished.

“It has to hold him.” Lorenz's voice was grim. He tied two longer ropes lengthwise on each side of the door and handed the end of one to Ramon. “Tie it to your saddle, por favore.” He tied the other to his saddle horn.

“Mama, do you want to ride behind me?”

“Nein, I vill valk beside him. Du cannot go fast.”

As predicted, the going was slow and tedious. Anna tried with every ounce of her strength to keep the make-shift travois from bouncing, but it was futile. They dragged him around to the front porch, and then Ramon and Lorenz pulled the travois up onto the porch and lengthwise up to the now empty doorway into their bedroom. Anna said not a word about the chips in the jamb.

“Mama, go inside and make sure we can lay him on the bed.”

Lorenz had never gone into their room, but he suspected his mother had some sort of covering over the linens. White faced, Anna preceded them.

“Ramon, y'all take his legs and I'll get the shoulders.”

“Should we turn the Patron over?”

“No, it's going to take everything just to get him inside and on the bed.”

They half-lifted MacDonald and staggered into the room and over to the bed, then paused before the final lift to position him belly down. Both were breathing deeply. “Ramon, I know we've been riding hard, and the horses are worn out, and y'all have a new baby, but if y'all can ride into Arles early in the morning for Doctor Huddleson, we'll make it worth your while.”

Ramon looked at the young man. “How, senor?”

“Y'all become lead hand.” He grinned. “I know, right now y'all are the only hand, but we'll need more help come fall and spring. There's a ten dollar a month raise with it, starting right now.”

Ramon's dark eyes were lit with excitement. “Si, Senor. I can ride. Will they believe me?”

“We'll send a note with y'all and our thanks. I can't leave Mama now.”

Ramon nodded and tipped his hat at Anna who was busy getting clothes off MacDonald. Anna looked up long enough to say, “Send Mina home.”

When he had gone, Lorenz asked, “Y'all need some help with those boots and trousers?” Together they finished stripping the clothes, and Anna went after the warm water from the stove reservoir and towels. He heard her telling Mina to sit and read or draw before she returned.

“Get those salves of his,” she commanded. MacDonald's wound continued to seep blood.

Lorenz brought only one of the salves. “The other one closes the wounds too fast,” he explained. “Mama, for him to survive, I've got to go to the
Golden One
to find the other medicines for keeping away infection, and to see if there's anything or anyway to get blood back inside of him. The doctor isn't going to make it for at least ten days. Even when he gets here, I'm not sure what he can do. I'll have to wait until Ramon leaves. Y'all can use any excuse you can think of to tell Mina and Armeda as to where I am.”

Anna looked up, her eyes were hard. “He vill live.” And she went back to work.

Ramon was back within six days. His horse took weeks to recover. Doctor Huddleson made it in nine and examined the huge form and the wound in the back. He was in his late forties and his training had been in the East. The route to the Texas frontier via the riverboats had been an adventure to savor a lifetime. He was no better nor any worse than most of the doctors relegated to the frontier. He didn't realize that Lorenz blocked his mind about the two hearts, and his diagnosis was simple.

“It's amazing that he has lived and there is no infection. The bullet is still in there and should come out, but I'm not the one to do it. There's a doctor in Saint Louis and one in San Francisco that might be able to. If he lives, that's who he needs to see. I can give you their names and write a letter for you.”

MacDonald was conscious, but weak. “I am in this room, Doctor. Ye dinna need to refer to me in the third person.”

Doctor Huddleson looked down. “You're just stubborn enough to live, Mr. MacDonald.” He repacked his case and wiped his brow. “Just keep changing those bandages as needed, and don't let him get chilled.”

Both Anna and Lorenz choked back the words about the unlikely possibility of a chill during the end of August and escorted him to the door after paying him. “Are du sure you von't have some coffee and rolls? I can fix a lunch if du vish to eat.” Anna did not want the man to think them inhospitable.

“Thank you, Mrs. MacDonald, but a rider from Shelton's intercepted me on the way here. It sounds like Mr. Shelton's had a fit of apoplexy. He can't move or speak. I need to stop by there before I head back to Arles. I'll check back here next month.” He tipped his hat, settled it on his head, and walked to the buckboard. Tipping his hat to damn Yankees was no problem. The MacDonald's were unusual in that they paid in cash instead of sundries. He doubted if the Shelton's would be so generous.

Lorenz tried to make a quick exit, but Anna blocked his way. “You did that with your mind,” she accused him in German.

He set his lips and looked down at his mother. Lorenz had come into his full height of six feet in the last two years. He could hear Tilly's girl Molly working in the kitchen and he answered in German. “Mama, if I'd used a rifle, the law would have been after me. You and Papa need me right now, and Shelton still has others like the two men that attacked Papa. If Uncle Herman would have split his brisket instead of leaving him a beaten hulk after that attack on Martin and Brigetta, he wouldn't have tried to murder Papa. He won't give any more orders.”

Lorenz kept all emotion out of his voice and face. He couldn't tell her how he'd been bathed in sweat afterward and how dirty he'd felt inside as he worked his way through Shelton's mind to find the way to completely disable the man. Instead, he saw Anna's grey eyes start to darken and he made a hasty retreat to his horse. He figured it would take a day or two for her to calm down. They'd hired Molly as a helper when it became apparent that Anna could not nurse MacDonald and care for Mina and the household without upsetting Papa. Daniel and Margareatha had been sent for, but Lorenz didn't expect either of them for another two weeks or more. He wondered how right Huddleson was about Papa's recovery and the need for an operation.