Читать книгу Special Delivery Baby - Sherri Shackelford - Страница 13
ОглавлениеBefore Will could react to her unexpected challenge, a commotion at the far end of the corral distracted Tomasina. He followed her gaze. A saddled but riderless horse, almost identical to the one she rode, trotted toward them. Loose reins trailed in the dirt while empty stirrups flapped against the animal’s sides.
Tomasina’s stance instantly focused on the odd sight. Her fingers flexed on her horse’s mane. Her attention sharpened. Though the proud lines of her profile remained inflexible, Will sensed something was wrong. Her curls fluttered in the soft breeze. This wasn’t part of the show. Uncertain as well, the crowd remained hushed in anticipation.
Waiting.
Tomasina sat straighter. A crash sounded.
An enormous white bull galloped into the corral, thrashing and snorting. The nostrils on the riderless horse flared, and the animal lunged away from the steer’s path. Tomasina spun her mount and charged toward the bull.
His heart racing, Will dropped his cane and vaulted over the fence. Upon his landing, pain shot up his leg and rattled his teeth.
Daniel grabbed for his coat. “What are you doing, Will?”
“Don’t be a fool!” Quincy Davis called out.
The riderless horse bolted past, and Will caught the reins, yanking the animal to a halt. Using his good leg, he stuck one foot in the empty stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle. The animal danced beneath him, frightened and confused. Grasping the pommel, he squeezed his legs, asserting his dominance over the skittish horse.
Quickly snagging the second rein and establishing control, he searched for Tomasina and the bull. Cornered at the far end of corral, the horned animal reared and snorted. Tomasina sidled her mount toward the fence. Nostrils flared and sharp hooves pawed the earth. The animal was set to charge, and she’d positioned herself directly in its path.
An icy chill pooled in the pit of his stomach.
Placing two fingers in his mouth, Will let out a sharp whistle. Distracted from its closest prey, the bull shook its enormous head. Will waved his hands above his head. The bull changed direction and charged toward him. Keeping his mount steady, Will held his position to the last second. Feinting left, he narrowly escaped the sharp horns.
A flash of red caught his attention. Blood darkened the animal’s fur. The bull had been injured, though not badly enough to slow it down. In preparation for the bronc-busting contest, a rope had been fastened around the bull’s middle along with a halter around the snout. If Will caught hold of that halter, he might be able to flip the bull. If Texas Tom was the marksman she claimed, he’d buy enough time for a shot. Will spun his mount and intercepted her.
She waved him toward the opposite end. “Help me herd him back to the gate.”
“No.” Will shook his head. “Too dangerous. That animal is hurt. He’s better off in the corral, where he can thrash about.” He followed the bull’s frantic bucking. “Let the cowboys clear out the spectators, then I’ll grab his head and flip him. You take the shot.”
There was no other way.
Her expression revealed an embarrassing level of skepticism. “Have you ever flipped a bull before?”
“No time to argue.” He’d seen the trick plenty of times, but he’d never actually performed the task. If the war had taught him one thing, it was that sometimes a man learned skills on the fly. “Grab your guns and prove you’re a sharpshooter.”
“It’s too dangerous,” she shouted. “I won’t let you.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
The more time they wasted, the more they risked. Wild with pain, the bull charged toward the corral fence. The crowd scrambled away. Startled cries rippled through the fleeing audience. The white bull kicked and bucked, its back legs smashing the fence, splintering the rails.
With the enclosure breached, the whole town was in peril. Will dug his heels into his mount’s sides and galloped the distance. He maneuvered his horse between the bull and the broken fence. A horn caught his horse’s flank, and the animal brayed. A second lunge narrowly missed Will’s thigh.
People pushed and shoved, madly fleeing the area.
Tomasina frantically gestured toward the cowboy at the far end of the corral. “Grab my rope.”
They had to keep the bull occupied until the majority of the crowd dispersed. The animal kicked at the fence once again, cracking the top railing in two. Time was quickly running short.
With the bull breathing down his neck, Will galloped toward the exit. “Open the gate for Tomasina!”
Several cowboys frantically unlatched the fastening.
He gestured toward her. “Get out of here.”
There was no reason for both of them to take the risk. His only chance at limiting injuries to onlookers was to keep the animal contained.
He glanced over his shoulder, and his heart skittered and stalled. Instead of galloping toward the gate, Tomasina approached the bull at a dead-on run. She worked a rope in her hands, winding her arm in a rhythmic motion. Like a furious Valkyrie, her focus remained fixed on her target, and her hair streamed behind her. Twirling the lasso high above her head, she launched the loop and neatly snared the animal’s head then yanked her horse to a halt.
Shocked by the sudden obstruction, the bull’s speed faltered. The animal shook its head, bucking and snorting. The steer sat back on its heels and spun in a taut circle. Tomasina held tight. Will whistled again, and the frightened steer paused only a moment before resuming its agonized pitching.
Tomasina’s hold faltered. Time slowed. First one hand broke free then the other. The rope caught her legs and yanked her from her mount. Fear urged him forward. She’d be pulverized beneath the bull’s hooves in an instant. Will slapped his horse’s hindquarters with the extra length of reins and charged. The steer pawed the ground, and Tomasina scuttled away. The steer ducked its head and plunged forward. The tip of one horn grazed her head.
Tomasina dug in her heels and frantically scooted backward. Will galloped between the pair and leaped from the saddle. He grasped the bull’s horn and concentrated all his weight into the collision. Twisting his body, he landed on his back, hauling the bull to its side in the process. The air whooshed from Will’s lungs and stars shot like shrapnel behind his eyes.
A gunshot sounded.
The cowboys sprang into action. Bodies swarmed them. Will shook the fog from his vision and kept his grip, draping his leg over the bull’s neck. Another shot sounded and the animal went still.
Will collapsed onto his back and stared at the cloudless sky. His breath came in harsh gasps. The enormous steer lay sprawled in the center of the corral. He touched the animal’s side, felt a great heaving sigh and then nothing. Pushing off, he lurched away and gritted his teeth against the pain firing up his leg.
Thrown from her horse, Tomasina sat back on her heels and brushed at her pants.
The events of the past few moments played out in his memory with sickening detail. She’d nearly been killed.
Daniel appeared in front of him. His friend stuck out his hand and helped Will up, discreetly passing him his walking stick in the process.
Daniel shielded his eyes against the sun. “You all right? That was quite a show you put on.”
“I’m fine.” Will mumbled his thanks.
“Quincy and I will start assessing the damage.”
“I’ll join you in a minute.”
Once his friend had walked out of earshot, Will advanced on Tomasina. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
She staggered upright, a relieved grin on her expressive face. “That was a real humdinger. I didn’t think you had it in you, Daddy Canfield.”
“Do you have a death wish?” he thundered. “Did you actually think you could slow thousands of pounds of charging bull?”
He couldn’t recall the last time he’d raised his voice to anyone, let alone a woman. Normally his rage was a cold thing. He’d discovered early in his military career that low tones were more lethally effective than shouts. Tomasina was singularly unaffected by his ire, which only increased his fury.
“Don’t get riled at me.” Her expression morphed into annoyance. “You jumped on him!”
“We’re not talking about me.”
She lifted her eyes heavenward. “And I suppose because you’re a man you think you’re the only one who can risk his life?”
“It’s not about who can risk their life, it’s about being sensible.”
“You didn’t look too sensible when you were diving toward those horns.” She blew out a heavy breath. “I don’t think men are as interested in protecting women as they are in taking all the glory.”
“Glory? I can assure you, glory was the very last thing on my mind.”
She scowled, circled the steer and then knelt near its haunches. “Look at that.”
“If you’d listened to me, none of this would have happened.” He realized she was no longer engaged in the conversation. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone speared this animal.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, smearing red across her face. “This didn’t happen by accident. We check all the animal pens for weaknesses and breaches. How did this bull get into the corral in the first place? Someone released him on purpose.” Glaring at Will, she demanded, “Did you have anything to do with this? You wanted my show shut down from the beginning. It’s as good as over now.”
“My whole concern was the safety of the spectators.” He looped the horse’s reins in his hands. “Why would I endanger them this way?”
“All right, all right.” Her shoulders slumped. “It’s just that I promised no one would get hurt. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Ever.”
“I’m not exactly thrilled that my premonition was accurate.”
Will crouched beside her and unfurled his handkerchief.
He reached for her head and Tomasina flinched away. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve got a cut on your forehead.” He dabbed at the flow of blood then pressed against the wound. “You’ll need that stitched.”
“I’m fine.” She pressed her gloved hand over his. “I don’t need stitches.”
Despite her bravado, he felt the delicate trembling of her hand beneath his fingertips. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide and glassy. The adrenaline gradually drained from his veins, leaving him oddly lethargic. His gaze dipped to where their hands touched. His mouth went dry. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He’d never lost his temper after a battle or crises. He’d always been known for his cool head, and yet he’d been raging like a lunatic only a moment before. What was happening to him?
“If you don’t want stitches, that’s your choice.” His words were strained, his voice husky. Slipping his hand from beneath her fingers, he left the handkerchief in place. “You’ll be left with a scar.”
Free from her touch, his head cleared. Her expression remained mutinous.
“So what? I ain’t looking to impress no one.” She squinted into the distance, her brilliant green eyes flashing. “I don’t mind killing when killing needs to be done, but someone deliberately wounded this animal. There’s no call for this kind of cruelty.”
“Which leaves the obvious. Someone deliberately riled that animal during your performance.” Will stood and surveyed the trampled grass and scattered debris. Most of the crowd had dispersed. Only a few huddled knots of people remained. He limped toward the fence for a better look at the damage. “You have an enemy, Miss Stone.”
“Me? You’re the one with all the rules and regulations. Maybe someone is tired of following ’em. Maybe your loyal subjects aren’t as happy with the leadership as you think. Maybe somebody has it out for Cowboy Creek. There’s no reason to assume this is my enemy.”
Her words struck too close to home. Was the Murdoch Gang involved? They’d been having trouble with those fellows since the snow melted. One of the gang had been grazed by a bullet in their last encounter with the law of Cowboy Creek. Rubbing his forehead, Will considered the possibility. Something didn’t quite fit. The Murdochs were far bolder than this slipshod attempt at revenge. Men who robbed churches in broad daylight didn’t hide their actions. No. The Murdochs weren’t behind this particular event.
This message was for Tomasina. Will tightened his fists, his heart still racing from the fear he’d experienced when she’d fallen from her horse. Even in death the enormous steer was intimidating, its carcass stretched across the dirt.
He stared at the flattened grass and the hats and other items abandoned by the fleeing crowd. His vision swam, and he was back at Little Round Top once again. His nostrils burned with gunpowder and a haze of smoke hung low in the sky. Men writhed and screamed. They were the lucky ones. Others were still. Horse carcasses littered the field.
The stench of blood filled the air. Will’s trousers were damp with it. A pall of grief settled over him. He’d never become accustomed to losing horses in such a grizzly fashion. At least the men understood what they were facing, what they were fighting for, in those horrific battles. But the animals were innocent. As innocent as children. As innocent as the babe asleep in his rooms at the Cattleman Hotel.
Grasping the reins of his borrowed horse, he approached a cowboy loitering nearby.
“He’s been injured,” Will said. “Hindquarters.”
The cowboy grasped the horse’s lead.
Two men leaned over a prone figure, and Will leaned heavily on his cane.
Tomasina touched his sleeve. “Are you all right?”
He shook off her hold, forcing himself back to the present. He wasn’t at Little Round Top. The war was over. He wasn’t the captain anymore. But this was his community. He’d sworn to protect this town, and he was a man who kept his word.
“There’s been an injury.” He grit the words out. If the man hadn’t risen by now, it must be serious. “Find Doc Fletcher.”
Tomasina followed his gaze. “Do you think it’s bad?”
Had she realized how close he’d come to slipping back into his memories? Had she sensed his agony? He couldn’t let her see him like this. He couldn’t let anyone see him this way. He wouldn’t be seen as weak.
Channeling his shock at the unexpected reaction, he snapped, “Well it sure isn’t good.”
The flash of hurt in her eyes stabbed him with regret. He’d apologize later. And say...what? How did he explain the scars he carried from the war that remained out of view? He’d never let anyone see inside his pain.
Weak men made poor leaders.
* * *
Tomasina retrieved her hat and reached for her horse. She pressed her forehead against the animal’s haunches and sucked in a deep breath. Her heart continued to pound painfully in her chest. She’d have laid down her life to prevent that bull from crashing through the fence. She’d taken precautions. Her pa had always stressed the importance of safety and common sense. She’d made a promise that no one would get hurt, and she’d believed in her own word. Nothing like this had ever happened before. She’d staged dozens of shows without incident.
Clenching her jaw, she straightened. This had nothing to do with her. She didn’t have any enemies.
“Let me help,” she called toward Will. “I’ll send one of the boys to fetch the doc.”
“You’ve done enough already,” he barked over his shoulder. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”
Her whole chest ached. She could have weathered his anger, but his disappointment was her undoing.
Someone had sabotaged her show, and she wasn’t resting until she discovered who had spooked that bull. The act was deliberate; it had to be. She’d seen plenty of animal wounds over the years, and she recognized full well when an injury was man-made.
Several of the cowboys clustered around the downed bull. She motioned for one of the younger men and bid him to fetch the doc. Eager to help, the cowboy sprinted off.
A man she recognized as Theo Pierce, a drover of her father’s generation, rubbed the back of his neck. “That bull is going to cost you.”
“You shot him.” Tomasina crossed her arms. “Why do I have to pay?”
If Will had listened to her from the beginning instead of treating her as though she needed protection, she might have saved the animal. His interference rankled. Mostly because she hadn’t expected his prowess. Though he always moved with an inherent grace, his horsemanship was faultless. Picturing him as a staid banker whose only skill rested with ledgers and numbers had insulated her against the bewildering feelings he stirred. Seeing this other side of him, the fierce warrior, had shattered the last vestige of her illusion. Will Canfield was a dangerous man.
“That animal was on loan to your show,” Theo said. “That makes its death your responsibility. We already lost more than a dozen on the trail. I can’t afford to lose any more.” He leaned closer and touched the reddened flank. “This isn’t from a gun. What happened?”
“I’d ask you the same thing. Someone speared this bull and sent it into the corral.” She gauged the other men’s reactions, searching for any sign of guilt. “Are you telling me that no one saw anything?”
“My outfit was watching the show,” Theo replied easily. “Same as everyone else. We had plenty of time before the bronc busting, and that’s the only event any of the boys entered.”
The men appeared as confused as Tomasina. No one looked away or shuffled their feet.
“Which means someone opened the gate and speared that poor animal without anyone seeing anything. Seems far-fetched to me. Who was closest to that end of the corral?”
She’d find the person who had been standing near that gate and see if he had anything more to say outside the prying eyes of the other cowboys.
Theo rubbed the back of his neck. “James Johnson was the last fellow I noticed near the gate.”
Tomasina took an involuntary step backward. James. He was right smack-dab in the middle of trouble yet again. She spun around lest someone see the tears welling in her eyes. Was Will correct? Did she have an enemy? Had the man she considered a brother done this deliberately? They’d argued, but this action was malicious even for James. It was high time the two of them had a showdown. They’d gone through too much together. He’d been avoiding her for far too long.
Truth be told, she’d been avoiding him, as well. He was a reminder of her pa. A painful reminder of all she’d lost. Tears threatened once more, and she clenched her jaw. Pa was gone, and blubbering about it wasn’t going to bring him back. There was work to be done.
“Theo,” she said, turning back. “I’ll pay you fair market price for the bull. Throw a picnic for the rest of the boys. Tell ’em it’s from the Stone outfit.” She might as well spread some good will. Who knew what the future held. “The rest of you fan out and help with the cleanup. We’ve got injured folks.”
Another drover she recognized as a fellow named Dutch grumbled. “They’ve got their own folks who’ll see to the injured. It ain’t our responsibility.”
“It was our cattle that caused the ruckus.” Dutch wasn’t known for going out of his way, but he was a good man at heart. “If someone had been keeping watch, this never woulda happened. I think we owe these townsfolk some decency.”
Theo chucked the man on the shoulder. “Come on, Dutch.”
“If you say so, boss.”
Tomasina clenched her teeth. Dutch wasn’t opposed to taking orders, as long as those orders didn’t come from a woman.
“That’s right Christian of you, Dutch,” she grumbled. “I bet your momma would be real proud.”
“Aw, don’t get sore at me. I could use your help. You’re the best tracker we got. Can you come around tonight? The fellows on the last drive lost a few of their cattle along the creek bed.”
“I’ll help.”
She’d always be the lowest ranking drover. The men had never been much for taking orders from her even when her pa was alive. They didn’t treat her as a woman so much as an adolescent. They admired her skill and joked with her around the campfire, but she was never an equal. The distance had grown more pronounced following her pa’s death. The cycle had begun anew, and once more she had to prove herself. Another reason she had to ride better, shoot better and take the jobs the other men didn’t want.
Shoving those worries aside, she rounded up the remaining men and gathered bandages and supplies before setting off to assist with the injured. Most of the wounds were minor cuts and scrapes from getting pushed and shoved by the fleeing crowd, and most of those folks had dispersed already. If the doc was around, she didn’t see him.
She passed by the two cowboys tending the injured horse.
“It’s not bad,” the taller one said. “Just a scratch.”
Relieved, she marched on. Will knelt in front of a red-faced man clutching his ankle. She squared her shoulders and approached him. He didn’t look up. She cleared her throat and held out a roll of bandages.
When he continued to ignore her, she planted her hands on her hips. “You gonna be mad at me or you gonna let me help?”
Without lifting his head, he waved her nearer. “Hand me those bandages.”
Tomasina blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and knelt beside him. His acknowledgment wasn’t exactly a declaration of forgiveness, but at least it was a start.
After a quick examination they concluded the man’s ankle wasn’t broken, only badly sprained. During her ministrations, the man alternately cursed and gritted his teeth. She sat back and unfurled a length of bandage. Will supported the man’s leg while she tightly wound the bandages around the man’s ankle.
Will kept the man’s attention diverted with a steady stream of questions. Nonsense mostly. He even had the man laughing at one point. Their banter shut her out, and a strange little ache settled in her chest. No matter where she traveled, she was always the outsider. Even surrounded by dozens of cowboys she was alone. She was alone because she was different. As she completed her task, Will helped secure the wrapped end.
She served as the unofficial doc in the outfit for minor injuries; another duty that had somehow fallen on her. Until now she hadn’t realized how telling it was that the boys had assigned her that duty. They let a woman do the nursing.
“You’re a good medic, Mr. Canfield,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’ve done some doctoring before.”
A shuttered look came over his face. “In the war.”
A flush crept up her neck. Her own brush with the war had been brief but memorable. Mostly she and her pa had worked and stuck close to Texas. Her father had been too old to fight. Though he couldn’t serve, he’d done his bit to support the war effort.
An army traveled on its belly, and there was no better supply for the southern states than Texas longhorns. Her pa had gone to work for an outfit that raised and sold cattle to the army at a fair price. While driving a small herd east, they’d come across the remnants of a previous skirmish. Men lay dying on the blood-soaked field. The heat of the day had been excruciating, and the bloating bodies had heaped on the misery. The stench was nauseating. They’d done what they could, but it wasn’t enough. She’d never seen such a ghastly sight, and she prayed she never saw the like again.
The soldiers who survived that day had gone on to fight other battles. How did someone witness bloodshed over and over again without stitching the horror into their very souls? Did those stitches ever unravel?
Will wiped his palms on his trousers and stood. Hobbling, he kept his weight off his bad leg. Two men who’d been hovering nearby flanked the injured man Will had been assisting. They draped his arms over their shoulders, and the trio limped toward town.
She glanced around, noting the field had cleared. The cowboys had gathered most of the litter left behind and were attending the steer left in the corral.
“I think that’s everyone,” Tomasina said.
“I hope so.” Will shrugged into his jacket once more. “We got off lucky.”
The damage might have been worse, much worse.
She’d barely breathed a sigh of relief before another man approached, a child in his arms. “We need a doctor, Will.”
Her throat tightened. The man held a boy of no more than nine or ten years old. A child. The bandage wrapping the boy’s head oozed red.
Recognition flickered across Will’s face. “I’ve sent for the doc, Mr. O’Neill. Bring him over here.”
She caught sight of the doctor making his way toward them at a brisk clip, his leather bag clutched in his hand. She’d seen him checking the chalkboard outside his office on her walks through town. In his late fifties, the man was rail thin and small framed, and his kind gray eyes were bracketed by laugh lines. Waving her arms, she frantically motioned him over.
Together with Will, the man rested the boy’s still form on the ground. Shucking his coat once more, Will balled the material into a pillow, and Doc Fletcher knelt beside him.
The doc pulled out his stethoscope. “Are you the boy’s father?”
“Yes. The name is O’Neill. This here is Owen.”
“Did you see what happened, Mr. O’Neill?”
“We were all here for the show. Owen and I were standing on the north side of the corral when the commotion started. People started running. Someone knocked me aside and Owen fell. I think—” The man fisted one hand over his mouth. “I think he was kicked in the head.”
Looking grim, the doc nodded.
Will placed a hand on the father’s shoulder and led him a short distance away. Tomasina hesitated another long moment before turning away. There was nothing more she could do here. She pressed her hand against the pang of longing in her chest. They’d shut her out. She was the outsider.
Feeling as though her cowboy boots were made of lead, she melted into the background. Will already blamed her. There was no use sticking around for more accusations. None of this had been her fault, and there was only one way to prove it.
Outsider or not, she vowed to find whoever had incited that bull and make him pay.
Turning away, she didn’t see when Will reached for her then let his hand drop against his side.
