The Turn of a Wheel (Kansas Crossroads Book 17) Page 7

  ***

  Alex felt the horse come to a stop, and Jack dismounted. Then Jack loosened the rope holding Alex on the saddle and helped him slide to the ground.

  “Where are we?” Alex managed to say.

  “Still outside town, but you can’t go any farther. You’re burnin’ up.”

  Alex opened his eyes just a slit and noticed the approach of dawn. “How long have we been riding?”

  “A long, long time. These poor horses are about ready to give out. You’re the important thing, though—we’ve got to get you fixed up.”

  Alex waved a hand. “I’m fine. I don’t even feel much anymore.”

  “But see, that’s a problem. When you stop feelin’ the pain, that means somethin’s not right.”

  Jack built a small fire, and Alex turned his face to the warmth. It felt nice, lying there on the ground after so many hours of jouncing along. He’d never thought he’d appreciate lying on hard-packed dirt, but some things certainly did bring other things into perspective.

  He wondered what Miss Barnes would be making for breakfast that morning. He pictured her hair coming loose from its braid and fluttering around her face, picked up by the breeze. She made a pretty picture both in real life and in his imagination.

  “Ho!”

  Alex heard a voice call from a great distance away, and then Jack answering it.

  “That’ll be the doctor,” Jack said, squatting down on his heels next to Alex. “He must have ridden hard to get here.”

  “Everybody’s riding hard today,” Alex mumbled. “Poor horses.”

  “I’ll give ’em an extra rubdown and a few days off,” Jack replied. “Stay awake, Alex. The doctor’s goin’ to want to talk to you.”

  Horse hooves cantered up to their tiny campsite, and Alex opened his eyes again to see a tall man with a moustache kneel down next to him with a black case in his hand. “I’m Dr. Wayment,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on here—the rider wasn’t very clear.”

  “This is Alex Barker, sir, and he got shot in the thigh while we were retrievin’ some stolen cattle,” Jack replied. “He’s had that bandana on since just after it happened—it’s a bleeder for sure.”

  The doctor pressed his lips together. “Yes, I can certainly see that. I hope you aren’t too fond of this suit, Mr. Barker. It’ll never be the same.”

  Alex appreciated the doctor’s wry note of humor. “I’m sure I can replace it,” he said, finding it harder and harder to string words together.

  “I’m glad to see you’re still somewhat lucid.” The doctor reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of scissors. “Since we’ve decided this suit is a loss, you don’t mind if I remove the pant leg?”

  Alex lifted a hand and waved, and the doctor began to cut.

  Once the fabric had been lifted away from the wound, the doctor examined the leg again. “The circumstances out here aren’t ideal by any stretch, but we’ll have to make them do,” he said. “Thank goodness the sun’s almost up. Jack, how’s your stomach?”

  “Strong as an iron drum, Doc. Except for the smell of boiled cabbage. Never could stand it.”

  “Are you fit to assist me?”

  “Whatever you need.”

  Dr. Wayment put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Mr. Barker, I need to remove the bandana and suture the bleed. If I don’t, you will die out here—I have no doubt.”

  “Let’s do it,” Alex rasped.

  “I have to be honest—as soon as I remove the bandana, you could begin to bleed so fast that you’d be gone before I could make the stitches. Your situation is grim either way.”

  Alex nodded. He’d known it from the very beginning—a person’s body only held so much blood, and his pant leg had been saturated. He wondered if he ought to be more worried than he was, but he couldn’t seem to manage it. He felt peaceful, as though whatever was about to happen was the will of the Lord, and he accepted it.

  “The choice seems clear to me,” he whispered. “Give it a try.”

  The doctor nodded and began pulling more items from his bag, which he laid out next to the fire. He uncorked a bottle of whiskey and held it to Alex’s lips until he’d taken several swallows, and then he poured some of the liquid onto the wound.

  “Jack, I’ll need you close by and ready to do as I say,” Dr. Wayment said. “Do you need a shot of whiskey yourself?”

  Jack chuckled. “I never touch the stuff, but I might change my mind before the day’s out.”

  Dr. Wayment smiled. “I’ve seen things that would make a sober man a drinker and a drinker into a sober man. We’ll be successful today—that’s our only objective.”

  “Wait,” Alex said. He paused, trying to gather his thoughts in his muzzy brain. “If I don’t make it . . . please tell Miss Barnes it was a pleasure to know her.”

  Jack and the doctor exchanged amused glances. “Besotted, this one is,” Dr. Wayment said. “That’s a good reason to stay with us, Mr. Barker. Focus on Miss Barnes, and we’ll get you through this.”

  Alex nodded, then closed his eyes, trusting that he was in the best hands possible. He had no other alternative out here on the plains, that was obvious, but he had to believe that God had sent this man to save his life.

  He felt a tug as the bandana was removed, and then heard Jack’s exclamation.

  “We knew this would happen, Jack. And we prepared for it. Now, hand me that needle . . .”

  Alex kept his eyes clenched shut, knowing that if he could see what was being done to him, it would only make things that much worse. The pain wasn’t as terrible as he imagined, but he thought back on what Jack had said—how a lack of pain was a bad sign. Was he going to lose his leg? Had that bandana shut off the blood supply to such an extent that he’d end up a cripple? Of course, it would be worse to die, but he couldn’t fathom either outcome. He’d always pictured himself getting married someday, having a family—not dying because his sense of family duty had forced him to chase across the prairie after his brother.

  “Jeb,” he gasped out. “Do you think they’ve found Jeb?”

  “I’m sure they’re lookin’,” Jack answered. “Just lay back there and don’t move a muscle. Doc’s takin’ care of you right now.”

  After a moment, Alex began to feel a tingling sensation in his leg as the blood circulation returned, and at first, he welcomed it. But the sensation grew more intense until it was an all-consuming pain, and he cried out, trying not to writhe.

  “Steady now,” Dr. Wayment said. “Just a few more minutes until we’re done. Think about Miss Barnes. She’s a very pretty young woman—I can say that because I’m a happily married man. Married to one of Miss Barnes’ friends, actually.”

  Alex tried to focus, but he could now feel the tug as Dr. Wayment pulled the needle through his skin, and waves of nausea crashed down on him.

  “More whiskey,” the doctor said, and Jack pressed the bottle to Alex’s lips. He didn’t want to accept, but he knew he’d need it to take the edge off the intense pain. His mother had never approved of drinking because of the life their father had led, and he felt as though he’d betrayed her wishes.

  Sorry, Mama, he thought, gripping the edges of the blanket where he lay. If he could just get through this . . .

  At last, Dr. Wayment said he was finished, and Alex lay there drenched with sweat. “If I were going to die, would I have done it by now?” he asked when he could finally take a breath.

  “I won’t lie to you, Mr. Barker—you’re still in danger. However, the artery that was punctured has been repaired, and the bleeding has stopped.”

  “So, what sort of danger am I facing now?”

  Dr. Wayment dribbled some water from the canteen over his hands and wiped them on a handkerchief. “You’ve lost a great deal of blood—so much, in fact, that I’m amazed you’re still conscious, let alone alive. Your body will need time to regenerate your lost blood volume, and during that time, you could experience infection in the wound. The bullet appears to have
gone clean through, so there was nothing to extract, but that means that we’re waiting for both an entry wound and an exit wound to heal, which is twice as many wounds, of course.”

  “How long will it take my body to regenerate that missing blood?”

  Dr. Wayment rocked back on his heels and then stood. “With solid meals, plenty to drink, and a great deal of watchful care, it will be about a month before you are well again.”

  “A month?”

  “Yes. A small price to pay for your life, isn’t it?”

  Alex nodded. “Of course. I shouldn’t sound ungrateful. I was just surprised.”

  “Understood. Now, where do you live?”

  “I’m not from around here, actually. I’m a guest at the Brody Hotel, traveling alone.”

  Dr. Wayment chuckled. “I’ve treated more patients at the Brody Hotel than anywhere else in the world except for my own surgery.”

  “Shouldn’t we take him to the Lazy Q?” Jack asked. “It’s closer.”

  Dr. Wayment thought on that for a moment. “If he can withstand the journey, I’d just as soon have him in town where I can reach him easier. I’ll leave that to you, though, Mr. Barker. Do you think you have the strength to make it back to town?”

  Alex didn’t know how he was to be expected to make a logical choice. His pain was so great, he doubted he’d make sense at all. “Let’s get as far as the Q and decide from there,” he said at last. “I think the Brody would be better, but if I can only make it partway, so be it.”

  Dr. Wayment nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.” He turned to Jack. “We can’t move him just yet—we need time for the blood to clot. In the meantime, let’s fashion him a travois, and perhaps by the time the others catch up, we’ll be ready to go.” Then he turned back to Alex. “Sleep now, Mr. Barker. Your body needs rest more than anything at this point.”

  Alex didn’t need to be told twice.

  Chapter Eight

  “Mrs. Norton, may I speak with you for a moment?”

  Mrs. Norton looked up from her mid-morning cup of tea and smiled. “Of course, my dear. It’s time for our very important conversation, isn’t it?”

  She followed Ruth from the dining room into the parlor, and they both took seats on the black horsehair furniture. “Have you come to a decision?”

  “I have, and just in time, too—I believe your train is the next one,” Ruth replied.

  “Yes, it is, and my luggage is already on the platform.” Mrs. Norton folded her hands on her lap. “What have you decided, my dear?”

  “I’ve decided that yes, I’d like to accept your offer.” The words came out almost in a whoosh, as though Ruth had been holding her breath. Perhaps she had been.

  Mrs. Norton smiled. “That’s wonderful, my dear. I’ll purchase your train ticket at the station before I leave, and I’ll expect to see you two weeks from today. I’ll give my footman your ticket information and he’ll meet you at the Kansas City station to give you a hand with your bags and whatnot.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Norton. This is a good opportunity for me, and I hope to make the most of it.”

  The door to the hotel opened, and Richard stepped in, followed by Miranda. “Good morning, Aunt Penelope. We’re here to see you off.”

  “There you are. I wondered if you two lovebirds had forgotten about your old aunt entirely.”

  “Not at all.” Richard gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Are you ready? Are your trunks at the station?”

  “Yes, the handyman took them over for me a short time ago.” Mrs. Norton turned back to Ruth. “Two weeks, my dear. I look forward to it.”

  “I do too,” Ruth replied. It was a heady feeling, giving her word like that, making a commitment to her future.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Miranda whispered. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”

  “All right. I will.” A lot had happened, that was for sure.

  Ruth watched through the window as Richard and Miranda escorted Mrs. Norton over to the train platform, then turned and went into the kitchen. The coming of a train meant the coming of hungry people, and that was something she could do to make herself useful while they waited for word from Wade.

  Mr. Runyon hadn’t been around yet that morning, but as the lunch service began, she heard his unmistakable voice coming from the dining room, and she smiled. It was nice to have someone around who could bring a little levity into a tense situation, and he did have a gift for that.

  Once the meal was finished, Miranda came into the kitchen and grabbed a towel to help dry the dishes. “I need to know everything,” she said. “What’s this about you going to Kansas City? And have they caught the cattle thieves yet?”

  The girls told Miranda everything they knew about the heist, which was nothing, so it was a very short conversation. Then Miranda looked at Ruth for information about the job offer. “My goodness,” she said when all her questions had been answered. “I turn my back for two days, and mayhem and pandemonium break loose over here. I’m not sure you can do without me.”

  “I’m not sure we can either, but that’s the hand fate has chosen to deal us,” Carrie replied. “Unless you’re ready to give up the pastor.”

  “No, I’m most certainly not. We’ve started putting our little house together, and I’m going to enjoy being Mrs. Richard Norton.” Miranda placed her stack of dry plates on the shelf and turned to start a new one. “I already miss you all, though. And Ruth, you’re actually leaving—won’t you miss everyone?”

  “Of course, but I’ve been consoling myself by thinking that at least I’ll see you and Richard when you come visit his aunt and uncle,” Ruth said.

  A shadow passed over Miranda’s face. “Richard’s not welcome in his uncle’s house at present,” she said after a long moment. “Mr. Norton doesn’t want anything to do with him at all—that’s why he didn’t come to the wedding. He’s still angry with Richard for becoming a pastor instead of a businessman, and this grudge he’s holding seems to be growing instead of fading.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible,” Emma said. “Is Richard angry with his uncle too?”

  “No, not at all. He wants to patch things up, and at least his aunt’s on his side, but it seems hopeless.” Miranda put the next stack away, then leaned on the counter. “I’m sorry, Ruth. Will you be very lonely out there if we don’t come visit?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll get along all right,” Ruth answered, but she felt a rock form in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she’d been counting on those visits, but she should have realized there was still some animosity between Richard and his uncle. She’d gotten her hopes up for nothing, but she would be all right. She’d make new friends soon enough.

  Callie poked her head into the kitchen. “Ruth, Mr. Runyon wonders if you’re free to take a walk with him.”

  Ruth glanced around, feeling helpless. She’d been pulled in too many directions over the last few days.

  “You can go if you want,” Kate said. “We’ll start the next meal.”

  Ruth shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, but to be honest, I’d rather stay here and work. Mr. Runyon’s pleasant to spend time with, but . . .”

  “But it feels pointless when you’re both going to be leaving soon?” Emma supplied.

  “Yes, that’s it exactly. Please tell him that I’m up to my elbows in flour.”

  “Even though she’s really not,” Emma interjected again.

  Ruth pulled a face at her. “I will be in a couple of minutes.”

  Callie smiled, then ducked back out of the room.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to walk out with Mr. Runyon? It would be a nice break from the kitchen,” Nora said.

  “I’ve had plenty of breaks, enough to make me feel like I’m not doing my job. This is where I should be right now.” Ruth reached over, grabbed the flour canister, and dragged it toward her on the counter. “See? Now I’m not lying anymore.”

  ***


  “It’s simply been too long,” Margaret said, putting aside the mending basket and standing up. “Why hasn’t there been news?”

  “I’m sure we’ll hear something soon,” Ruth told her. “And in the meantime, thank you for hemming those napkins. I didn’t know when we were going to get to it, it’s been so busy.”

  “I like keeping my hands occupied, but I’d much rather be doing something to help my husband. Couldn’t I ride out to the Lazy Q and wait for him in my own home? Then he wouldn’t have to come fetch me—I’d already be there.”

  “I think he left you here for a good reason. What if there’s some kind of danger at the ranch? What if the cattle thieves left some of their men behind? Please be wise, Margaret. Think of your child.”

  Margaret nodded, but strode over to the kitchen window and stood looking out. Ruth didn’t know what she could possibly see from that angle beyond the stables and the orchard, but she understood her friend’s need to be on guard, prepared, ready for whatever might happen next.

  “I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee,” Margaret said at last, turning from the window and moving over to the stove.

  “Good idea. That will give us a moment to clear our heads and get ready for the next train. Would you please take a peek at the bread while you’re over there?”

  Ruth put away the mending while Margaret made the coffee, then pulled out the cream and sugar. She had just set cups on the table when she heard the slamming of a door from the front of the hotel, and loud voices echoing through the dining room.

  She and Margaret both ran through the dining room and into the lobby, where they saw Dr. Wayment and Mr. Brody carrying Alex Barker up the staircase. Panic raced through her chest when she saw how lifeless he seemed.

  “What on earth?” she asked Jack, who stood there panting, his hands on his knees. “What happened?”

  Jack pulled in a few more breaths, then straightened. “We caught up with the herd and were putting the thieves under arrest when one of them pulled a spare gun and shot Alex,” he said. “Dr. Wayment had to operate out there on the plains.”