By: Julie Dieck
Chapter 7 “Unexpected Rescue”
One year later …
The afternoon sun was shining, the sky was clear, birds were singing, and the breeze was fresh and warm: a perfect day in Sunset Valley. Alan sat easy in the saddle as his chestnut horse walked along at a relaxing pace; heading in the direction of the fort. He’d been out since morning scouting around the hills for any signs of Indians, but so far everything looked peaceful; no signs of any bands of restless braves or war parties at all. Though he enjoyed the ride and the scenery, Alan would be glad to get back for a rest and a filling supper. Lunch had only been a light meal of jerky and hard biscuits from his saddlebags and some water from his canteen, all of which had worn off over two hours ago. Even if the chow at the fort wasn’t the greatest in the world, it sounded mighty good at the moment. He let his thoughts ramble off to other things as he rode on; but still kept his mind on his mission and eyes and ears alert at the same time. He had no want to get an arrow in the back while daydreaming. But all daydreaming came to an abrupt end when his eye caught something to his right. Smoke; a small column rising high into the blue sky from over the trees of a rise to the valley.
Alan leaned forward and patted the muscled neck of the chestnut. “Well, Blarney, we be lookin’ for signs of trouble; and I be thinkin’ we just found some. Let’s get a closer look, shall we? If ya’ step lively we can be makin’ it in ‘bout an hour.”
A quick squeeze to the barreled ribs beneath him and the chestnut started off at a quick canter across the rugged ground. As Alan had estimated, they arrived near the area about an hour later. He reined in at the top of a small hill and looked down through the scattering of trees. His eyes went wide.
“Well, I’ll be!”
At the bottom of the hill where it stretched out into more open grassland, the smoke he had seen wafted up from a burnt wagon, and around it – the sprawled figures of what had been its passengers. Drawing his rifle from the scabbard, Alan slowly made his way down towards the wagon, using what cover of brush there was as best he could, while keeping a sharp eye out for trouble. He dismounted at the foot of the hill and covered the rest of the distance at a crouching run, rifle ready. He reached the smoldering pile of charred wood without any incidents, but still stayed alert as he scanned the terrain; there could still be eyes watching from far off. But after a quick study of the ruins, he lowered the rifle. The fire was almost completely burned out, so it had happened at least a few hours or so ago, and, by the tracks, it had been a small party of about a dozen or more braves. The Indians who had done this were long gone by now. More at ease, Alan stood on the soot smeared battlefield and somberly observed the morbid sight. Beside what was left of their wagon, three figures were sprawled on the ground; a family by the looks. One was a man who wore the typical dress of a rancher, shot at least three times and tomahawked in the back; and next to him was a young woman who must have been his wife, the delicate-featured face that must have been a sight to behold now smeared with blood from a bullet across the scalp, the dirtied dress ripped and also stained in red. The last was a young girl who must have been their daughter; cut and scraped with an arrow sticking out of her back. She lay apart from the others near the wagon where she had apparently been trying to take shelter. For a moment, Alan’s mind traveled back to years past, when he’d come home to find a similar scene; and some of the burning inside flared for an instance.
Under his breath he muttered, “The cursed pack ah’ slaughterin’ savages. Be there nothin’ sacred ta’ them?” He sighed as he observed. “Guess while I’m here I mis’well bury the poor devils. Least I can do.”
He brought his horse out and got the small shovel from the pack. Then, moving a ways off from the scene of the attack, he began digging into the dirt. Almost two hours later, Alan stepped back and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he observed the three trenches before him. Tossing the shovel aside, he then proceeded to gently pick up the lifeless bodies of the man and woman and lay them in their graves and covered them over one at a time. As he patted the mound of dirt with the back of the shovel on the second grave, he wished he could have known their names, then at least he could have carved them on the crosses that he would put at the heads.
Finishing that, Alan stepped to the side of the daughter lying face-down; the arrow imbedded just under the right shoulder blade. A deep sadness filled him. So young; she couldn’t have been no older than fifteen; but what a little fighter she must have been. The shirt and trousers were dirty; and although all guns, whatever there were of them, were gone – stolen by the Indians when they had looted their target –, powder marks on the young hands showed that she too had joined in the doomed fight for life. She must have been something to have that kind of courage.
With a sorrowful shake of his head, Alan knelt down to pick up the small figure. He touched her, but instantly drew back his hands as though the body had bitten at him; shock in his face. Again, he laid an open hand on the small shoulders.
Instead of the body being cold as he had expected, it was warm. A barely noticeable rise and fall could be felt in the bloodied back.
Breathing. The girl was alive!
Night had nearly set when Alan rode into Fort Bravado. He brought his chestnut to a stop near the corral as soldiers came from nearly every part of the fort in curiosity at the small blanket-wrapped figure he carried in the saddle before him. He dismounted and eased the bundle down into his arms as questions began to bombard from all sides. There was no time to answer any as a tall man elbowed his way through the men towards them. Alan recognized Sergeant Bates. Captain Henderson was away at Fort Riley for a report meeting for a couple of days, so Bates was in command at the moment.
“Branegan! We were sure something had happened to you!” The sergeant stopped short when he stepped out of the gathered group and saw what the commotion was about. He stepped closer and looked at the unconscious girl in the privet’s arms. “What’s this?”
“This be what took so long, Sir,” Alan explained. “Found her on the road just comin’ out of the mouth of the valley. Some sneakin’ Injuns ambushed a wagon there; burned and looted it clean. This little lass be the only one survivin’. She’s pretty bad off though, Sir. We gotta help her now or it could be too late.”
Bates touched the girl’s forehead. Burning hot with fever; there was no time to lose. “Yes, of course.” He motioned to a near soldier. “Privet Willis, get a doctor! And someone fetch Miss. Henderson! She might be of some assistance!”
Not even taking time to salute, the man called Willis scurried off. Alan hurried in another direction with the cluster of soldiers trailing along after; Bates right on his heels. Half way across the compound, Bates turned for the guest’s quarters. He’d only gone a few steps when he realized Alan wasn’t with him. He turned to see the privet still marching straight. The sergeant quickly hurried back, puzzled.
“Uh, where are you going? The guest’s quarters are this way.”
“I not be takin’ her there,” Alan answered over his shoulder. “I be takin’ her to the captain’s quarters.”
“What?” Bates froze in his tracks, then had to take a few leaping steps to catch up. “Wait a minute! You can’t put her in the captain’s quarters!”
Alan’s pace didn’t slow. “It be the best place for her.”
“And what’s wrong with the guest’s quarters?”
“Are ye kiddin’? It hasn’t been used in weeks. The roof leaks and it be dustier then me dear old grandmother’s attic. T’ain’t as warm neither.”
“You can’t do this without the captain’s permission!”
“Well, the captain t’ain’t here so we can’t be askin’ him, now can we? And if we just sit around waitin’ for him ta’ return so we can ask him, we won’t have ta’ be botherin’ about it by that time, ‘cause this little lass ain’t goin’ ta’ be around by then, so we got no choice in the matter.”
Bates’ face was twisted in painful indecision as he groaned in his throat. “Well … maybe … But the captain’s quarters?” Then to himself he wondered, Why am I taking orders from a privet?
Alan and Bates sat in the front room of the captain’s quarters; waiting. Outside, they could hear the soft whispers from the group of curious soldiers – which included Karson and the others – who had stayed around to hear any news when it came. It had been nearly an hour since the doctor and Linda had disappeared through the door to the bedroom; since then, all had been quiet. Alan had passed the time by trying to count the stars he could see through the window as they shone brighter in the darkened sky. Now there were so many that he’d given up and his thoughts turned back to the young girl. He wondered who she was; where they’d been going; what she was like; then wondered if he would ever know. His answer was soon in coming as just then the door clicked open the thin graying-haired figure of Doc Stevens emerge, black bag in hand. Linda right behind.
Alan stood to his feet from the chair he’d been sitting in. “How is she?” he asked softly.
Doc Stevens took a breath before beginning. “Well, it’s not good, but I’ve seen worse.”
“So you think she’ll pull through?” Bates asked.
The doc hooked a thumb in his pants pocket. “I didn’t exactly say that, but there’s always a chance. She’s lucky that arrow didn’t hit anything vital, but she’s lost a great deal of blood. If I could’ve gotten to her sooner, her chances would probably be a little higher. As of right now, she’s walking a pretty thin line. Good thing was the wound was clean.”
“’Fore I brought her here I tried cleanin’ it best I could,” Alan said.
The doctor nodded in approval. “And a good job you did too, Branegan. There isn’t really any infection, which could be the winning element right there; but she’s not past all danger by a long shot. She’s going to need 24 hour watching for a while. I’d stay myself, but I have other calls and routes that I have to make. So, someone among you is going to have to do it.”
Bates frowned in thought. “Well, I certainly can’t right now with the captain gone and all. I’m not sure about the others.”
“I could stay,” Linda volunteered, then frowned. “The only thing is I can’t stay all the time. I do have my job at the store in town, and I did promised to help out at the ladies church lunch tomorrow. I might have more time after that though.”
“I could have some of the men cover for you while you’re gone,” Bates mused, arms folded while rubbing his chin. “Though I don’t know which would be right for the job. Taking care of a wounded soldier is one thing, but I’ve a feeling they’ll hesitate at taking care of a kid. None of ‘em have had any experience with anything like this.”
Linda took on a similar pose to the sergeant’s. “I guess I could try to arrange for some time off at the store, and I wouldn’t have to go tomorrow, but I–”
“I’ll stay,” Alan suddenly spoke up.
All eyes turned to him. The privet’s face was earnest.
“You sure, Branegan?” Bates asked.
“The way I be I figurin’ it, since I be the one that found her, she’s me own responsibility.” Alan’s tone had a finality to it, as though the matter were settled.
Bates shrugged with his arms. “If that’s what you want. I’ll arrange to have some of the other men take over your duties.”
“I could stay tonight at least,” Linda offered.
Alan turned to her. “That’s mighty kind ah’ ya’, Miss. Henderson, but there be no real need for it. I can watch her alright. Ya’ mis’well get yerself a good night’s sleep. I ain’t tired nohow.”
Linda was going to object, but relented when she saw how much it meant to him by his expression. “Well, alright. But if you need anything don’t hesitate to call on me.”
“That I will, Miss.”
Doc Stevens headed for the door. “Well, I leave you to work it out. It doesn’t matter who stays with her as long as someone does. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He paused with hand on the doorknob as he addressed Alan. “Just keep a close watch. Make sure that fever doesn’t go up any higher and get ahold of me fast if it does.”
Alan nodded. “I’ll be rememberin’. Thanks, Doc.”
Linda followed Doc Stevens out the door, but Sergeant Bates paused. He looked back at Alan with an odd expression and shook his head.
“Branegan the nursemaid. What have you let yourself in for?”
Alan just grinned. Bates said goodnight and shut the door after him, leaving Alan alone. He crossed the room and stepped into the dark interior of the bedroom. A stray beam of soft moonlight from a window fell across the small figure in the captain’s bed, covered thickly in blankets. He decided to check on her once more before settling down to watch and quietly went to the bedside. Alan leaned against the bedpost as he looked down into the fever-flushed face. He sighed; though it was only a slight sound, it seemed louder in the darkness. Had anyone been there to hear it, they might have detected the deep sorrow it voiced. He didn’t know why he felt it so strongly, but he felt he had a connection with this young girl. A connection of pasts; both were orphaned – both by the same reason. He knew what it was like to suddenly be alone; and to be frightened by the prospect of it. To have the world yanked out from beneath your feet; to lose everything.
Gentle fingers reached out to stroke away the loose strands of blond hair from the hot forehead. Whoever she was, he wasn’t going to let her feel that; not alone anyway. He would be right here when she awakened; she would have a friend to turn to when she needed it. He felt he owed that much to her. But there also seemed to be more to it than just that, a feeling deep inside that there was a purpose for all this; one he couldn’t put his finger on. Something was drawing him to her, he could feel that; as though he would be needing her – soon, for what, he couldn’t say. Only the future would be able to unveil what it all meant.
Leaving the bedside, Alan pulled up a chair and sat down; preparing for the long night ahead of waiting – and thinking.
For two days, Alan kept a watchful eye on the little patient. As the other fellas said: the kid couldn’t have gotten better care from a nurse. Hour after hour, Alan stayed in the small room, bathing the hot face with cool water as he fought to keep fever down. The only sleep he got was small catnaps in his chair, though his mind was so alert that any noise woke him with a start and he would quickly check on his patient. Some of the other men began to feel a bit sorry for him and a few even offered to watch so he could get a little rest, but Alan always declined. Linda also came periodically to see how things were, though it was always the same each time and her visits were short.
(Chapter 8 will be released next Saturday, December 30)
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