Читать книгу The Tarnished Necklace - Trish Inc. Duffin - Страница 14

Jasper was a little suspicious that Maria wouldn’t be making a sick call. He had persuaded his friends to join him as he sat near her home to see if she was indeed visiting her friend. Jasper had the use of his father’s wagon and the men had spent the afternoon lolling in it. They were hidden behind a stand of trees and discussed his situation with a few bottles of whisky to keep them company. His ire was initially raised when he saw Maria and Peter head over to his home and then further into his property. The four men had then waited. After an age there was a frantic nudging of ribs and some drunken shushing as they watched the couple return to the turnoff. The way those two moved together spoke volumes. They were holding hands and the way her body gently touched his, the way she craned her neck back to look up at him and their soft voices made it abundantly clear that this imposter was reneging on his promise to step back. At one stage Jasper expected them to kiss and he choked back his rage. Maria took far too long to say goodbye and those lingering looks were almost impossible to watch. Finally she dragged herself away.

Jasper waited until she was safely out of sight and shook off the restraining arms. “That’s it, let’s go,” he snarled. The four young men lurched forward, eager for a fight. Alcohol was surging through them and restraint was obliterated. They didn’t feel the same passion as Jasper but this was going to provide a bit of excitement on an otherwise dull day.

Peter was close to his house when he heard their approach. He turned around to face the young men and didn’t flinch as they got closer. Two of them were still clutching the whisky bottles and the smell of alcohol wafted towards him on the breeze. Jasper walked up to him, voice tight with anger and fumes hitting Peter in the face. “I thought we had an agreement in regards to Miss Scott,” he snarled and, before Peter had time to react, Jasper pulled back his arm and delivered a painful blow to Peter’s stomach. He doubled over and grabbed Jasper’s hand before he had time to pull it back. He couldn’t summon any words to his lips as the wind had been knocked out of him. Instead he simply head butted Jasper, neatly breaking his nose. Jasper’s nose suddenly flooded with blood and his three friends took that as the call to battle.

Peter’s shoulder took the second hit and a punch in the kidneys made him throw Jasper around into his adversary, sending both of them tumbling sideways.

Peter twirled and ducked as another fist came his way and he managed to get another punch in that was going to cause a superbly bruised stomach.

He spun around to find the fourth assailant but it was too late. Something solid crashed against his head and he fell to the ground only to have a fine layer of dust kicked in his eyes. His hair was grabbed by someone and three punishing blows were landed in his face.

Peter dove forward, sending his adversary backwards and down a small bank. Both men rolled, quickly followed by the other three men. Two of them grabbed Peter’s arms and yanked him painfully upright, kicking him in the back of the knees to force him into a kneeling position.

He rolled violently sideways attempting to unlock their hold, his eyes still blinded by the dust. One man screamed in pain as Peter’s body slammed into his legs and sent him sprawling over a large stone, cleanly snapping the shin in two. His face skidded along the ground and then a boot kicked him in the back. He rolled over trying to regain his feet but was kicked in the ribs. The pain was horrendous and he doubled over gasping in pain.

Kicks and blows rained on him from every angle and he curled up into a foetal position. His brain was beginning to fog over and his last coherent thought was ‘I’m going to die.’

Jasper’s friends pulled him back. Peter’s body lay prone on the ground. Crimson puddles started forming before being soaked into the dust. Damien lay in agony on the ground, sobbing and vomiting in pain with his shattered leg lying at an unusual angle. Jasper had numerous cuts and bruises to his face, his knuckles grazed and his nose swelling and oozing blood. The men looked down at their prey, chests heaving with excitement and from the heat of the fight. They scooped Damien up under his arms and dragged him, screaming, all the way to the wagon they had travelled in. He was unceremoniously pulled on, the men attempting to stifle his screams for fear of being heard and they departed, nearly suffocating him to drown out his howling.

Peter lay there, deeply unconscious.

Maria was in the yard trying to calm down her still flushed face when she heard the screaming coming from behind the small rise and she glanced over. Susan and Andrew had been sitting on the porch, Andrew just beginning to doze off when they too heard the screaming. They both arose, meeting Maria in the yard and quickly making their way along the path. The screaming stopped and then started again. Andrew rushed in and grabbed his rifle. “Joanne, stay inside and look after your sisters,” he commanded before rushing up the road towards his wife and daughter who had bunched up their skirts and were running.

A wagon rattled furiously down the road, the horses being flogged to increase their speed. Maria, Andrew and Susan saw the panicked run of the horses and saw Jasper at the reins. They headed towards Peter’s place to see if he had heard anything. At one point they stopped. Two near empty whisky bottles were lying on the ground, the dust still damp from the contents being spilled. A squashed hat lay to one side.

Susan spied a blue cotton shirt and gasped before sliding down the small bank to the unconscious form of Peter. She recognised the shirt from the one she had mended for him earlier in the week. Andrew came skidding down close beside her with Maria following. One word sprang to her lips, “Peter!”

He was unconscious, his shirt badly torn and heavily stained with blood and dirt. Blood was oozing through his scalp and trickling down over his ears before dripping onto the ground. Andrew ripped part of the shirt off to make a temporary bandage over the scalp wound. A large gash could be seen on Peter’s side and blood was everywhere, its deep crimson colour oozing through his clothes and falling to the ground.

Andrew turned to his wife. “Stay here. I’m going to fetch the wagon and a board.” Peter was a big man, there was no way they were going to be able to safely carry him home. He doubled back to his house, running faster than he ever had in his life. Once home he shouted out to Joanne to grab some blankets and help him.

He quickly harnessed a horse to the wagon and put a wide plank into it before scooping up his three girls and piling them in as well, suddenly fearing for their safety as well. He arrived back, relieved to see his wife and daughter safe. They pulled the plank off the wagon and gently rolled Peter onto it. Andrew tied him in place and everyone lifted him up. They struggled up the small bank, fingers slipping on the wood and carefully slid him onto the boards. Alice had been given the job of holding the horse, but even from her angle she could see her adopted big brother was in a bad shape. Grace stuck her thumb in her mouth and just stared before snuggling into Joanne’s lap.

It was a quiet ride back to the house, everyone concerned about the still unconscious patient lying on the wagon floor. Susan and Maria rushed inside to prepare a bed for him. Alice’s straw tick was removed and laid down in the family room along with her bedding. Susan got extra sheeting and Joanne was given the job to tear up the oldest sheets for bandages. They carefully brought Peter in and gently manoeuvred him onto the bed. His unconscious body was a dead weight.

The girls were all sent out of the room while Susan and Andrew gently removed his curiously wet boots and clothing. The majority of damage was in his upper body. Livid bruising was coming through, the skin was ripped across his back and a large gash was on his shoulder. His face was torn, puffed and bloody from his scalp down to his chin. Most concerning was the massive bruise forming under his left arm and the blood that was continuing to flow from the numerous gashes on his torso.

Andrew muttered, “I reckon he was kicked in the ribs.”

Susan looked at this lovely young man. “Who would do this to him and why?” she asked.

Andrew just shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.......I’m going to see if I can find the doctor. I’ll get Maria to give you a hand.” He went outside and looked over to his daughters. They were all sitting there quietly, holding each other’s hands and all a little glassy-eyed, silent in shock. “Maria, you need to give your mother a hand. I am going to find the doctor. Just pray that he is in.” He then unharnessed the horse before lifting the saddle on, his fingers shaking as everything was tightened. He climbed on and put the horse into a canter before nudging it further into a gallop.

Maria didn’t watch her father go, as she had immediately slipped inside to be with her mother. Susan was staunching the bleeding and was thankful he was still unconscious. Together the two women stopped the profuse bleeding and cleaned him, ever so gently rolling him side to side to make sure his body was clean and no dirt was caught in the torn skin. The water in the basin had to be emptied several times until Peter looked more presentable. Maria gently wiped the grime off his face and flinched when wiping around his mouth. Those lips had been kissing hers just a few minutes ago and now they were a puffed mangled mess. Without thinking she planted a tender kiss on them, barely brushing the surface and a tear dropped from her eye onto his cheek. Susan put her hand on Maria’s shoulder. “He’ll be all right my dear.” Maria turned and sobbed into her mother’s shoulder and Susan hugged her tight. That soft kiss that Maria had planted on his lips confirmed what she had already suspected and she felt her daughter’s pain.