Chapter 1

I came up out of the gully wondering how come I was still alive. I had tried crossing a creek in the dark last night. Somewhere back up the stream there must have been a cloud burst. I heard the noise of the rushing water and was half-way across the creek when I was hit by a wall of water. I never saw it coming. My horse was up-ended and I tried to stay with it. I made a grab for the horn, but couldn’t hang on.

Why I came away with the Winchester in my hand, I couldn’t tell. It was the last thing I needed right now. Being tumbled over and over, I needed my feet on dry land. The horse screamed in pain from down the creek and I figured he had some broken bones. Just then something caught me in the belly and I was slammed by something in the head. That was the last I remembered until now.

I came to at daylight in terrible pain. My head ached and I had an eight inch long gash across my belly. My leather vest had been torn from me. The only thing left of my shirt was my sleeves and what went over my shoulders. I looked at the gash before moving much.

I could see the lining of my stomach, but it hadn’t been penetrated. A flap of skin three inches wide and eight inches long had peeled away and hung down. It had bled terribly, but it had stopped for the time being. Talk about smarting, I’ll tell you. There was tree bark ground into the wound. I felt my head. Not much damage, but I sure supported a good-sized lump.

I was entangled in a fir tree. The roots had evidently torn loose and the whole tree had come down the gully gathering me up into its branches. The roots, washed now of any sign of dirt, were lodged against the bank. I tried moving, but my foot was caught. My rifle was still with me. I must have let it relax from my hand sometime, but it was within reach. It too, was tangled up in the tree. I finally pulled it free and muddy water ran out the barrel. I was able to pry my foot loose with this. I guess rifles are good for something besides shooting.

I slid into about two feet of water and made it to the bank of the wash. This looked like a regular crossing and the slope up out of here was gentle. I looked up and down the gully for my horse, but didn’t see him. Damn, that was a good saddle and there was money in the saddlebags. Well, I guess I had better see where I was? It was a slow painful assent up out of the creek bed.

This gave me time to think about this trip I had taken on. Trouble had dogged me this far. First gun trouble and now me without a horse and the gold I was carrying gone. With this gash in my belly, I guess I had better find a place to heal up for a few days.

I topped out after a slow climb of a couple hundred yards. There was a string of woods on the left and then some open land stretching out to prairie. It looked like a homestead out a-ways from the woods. There was a rail fence enclosing a small shack. The boards on it looked to be weathered a few years worth. There was a long, low, older barn that might hold enough hay and stable room for three horses. A small corral was at the back of the barn. It held a scrub saddle horse.

I was on a sort of trail. It branched to the right onto another one that came by the homestead. I didn’t see any traffic, but then it was early.

I watched the cabin to see what kind of people lived here. Homesteaders didn’t take kindly to tramps and I guess that was what I was. No horse, a rifle that wouldn’t shoot and me with most of my clothes torn off. I saw a woman in a poke bonnet and long dress come out of the barn. She must have been feeding the stock. I wondered where her man was. When she went into the house, I followed along the edge of the woods, not stepping out until I was behind the barn. There was a door there where the manure was heaved out and I went inside.

The inside was neat and orderly. Suddenly I was tired and looked for a place to lie down. Chickens scratched in the chaff on the floor. I took a horse blanket off the wall peg and throwing it over a pile of loose hay, I flopped down on it. I must have lost quite some blood last night because I was weak as a new-born colt. The sun was shining in through the door and I settled down. There were two draft animals stalled munching hay.

“Hi, who are you and what’cha doing in our barn?” I looked at a young girl, maybe ten standing and staring at me. “You got guns too. I don’t like guns. They killed my daddy. I’m afraid of them. Mommy said I was.”

“I’m hurt and I needed a place to rest.”

“I’m going to tell Mommy.”

“That would be okay. Can you bring me some water?”

“I’ll ask Mommy.” She turned and sped toward the house.

I hadn’t thought about my side gun. It still had a thong over it. It had to be in the same shape as my rifle. They needed cleaning soon before the rust got to them. I took the rifle and jacked the shells out of it leaving the breech open. My hand gun I did the same. Water drizzled out of the actions from both. I slid them toward the door. I tried to stand, but was too weak.

Maybe I was out for a few minutes and when I looked up there was the woman standing looking down at me. The wound in my belly must have opened when I tried to get up because blood was seeping from the flap of skin I had tried to cover over the gaping slash.

“You’re hurt. That looks bad. Were you shot?”

“No. I got caught in that flash flood last night. I was tumbled off my horse and into the water. I think my horse is dead. I heard it scream shortly after we separated. I was knocked out and got tangled up in a tree. I guess a broken limb gouged me. I woke up this morning wondering how I survived. I crawled up the gully and into the barn to rest.”

“Let me see how bad it is. Take off your shell belt.”

“I can’t, I tried that. Every time I move I start bleeding again.”

“I’ll unbuckle it. Stay still.” The woman came close enough for me to smell her. She smelled clean. She was big ... almost as big as me. Her hands and wrists were brown and when she put her hand on my shoulder it was rough. Her face was tanned and I could see wisps of hair under her bonnet that were just about the same light chestnut tan. Her eyes were hazel. I don’t think she could be called a classic beauty, but she was attractive.

“Do you have a name?”

“Of course. Randal Palmer is how I sign my name. I go by Randy.”

“Mine is Mrs. Sheila Pierson. Patty is my little girl’s name.”

“And you are a widow?”

“How did you know?”

“Patty said a gun killed her daddy.”

“That’s what happened. Let’s see if I can get you up and into the house? You shouldn’t be out here in the barn with an open wound.” It was a struggle, but after I got on my feet, I was able to move with a hand steadying me.

“You’ll have to sleep in my bed.”

“I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Let me worry about it. There is no other place. You have to get well.”

I hesitated to say anything or ask, but I finally decided I must. “Ma’am, could I ask you to look for my horse? I need my saddle and the bags hooked to the skirt. There is money in both bags. Anyone who finds it could take it and it doesn’t all belong to me.”

“Whose money is it?”

“Some belongs to me and the rest to three other cattlemen. I was the drover who took the herd to Kansas. We’ll all be broke if I don’t come home with it.”

“I’ll look for it after I get that wound cleaned up. It looks as if I can sew that flap of flesh back and you’ll be as good as new. I got some disinfectant that should be good. I don’t have anything to kill the pain, though.”

“I can stand it.”

Sheila went about picking pieces of tree bark out of the wound and when she had cleaned the best she could she washed it with hot water. “This will burn some when I put this horse liniment on. Scream if you have too. The disinfectant should numb it a bit and then I can begin sewing it together.” I pressed my lips together, knowing I was in for some major pain.

I survived it, but I never wanted to go through it again. She brought me some clothes of her husbands, saying she would wash and patch my Levis when she washed next. “You stood that well, Mr. Palmer. You must be hungry. We’ll have a lunch and then I’ll see what I can do about finding your dead horse. I have some small screwdrivers if you want to tear down your guns.”

“Patty said your husband was killed by a gun. I’m surprised you would want anything to do with them.”

“My husband had a good serviceably revolver, but it never came back to me. All I have for a weapon is a small bore shotgun for shooting small game. I haven’t felt safe since he was killed.”

“How long ago was that, ma’am?”

“Springtime.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. He was mostly a good man, but he had a habit that drove him. We’d get a few dollars ahead and then he just had to gamble. He sat in on a game in town when he was after supplies. Most usually he gambled with town folk, but there was an outsider sitting in that day. My husband lost and he thought the game was crooked so he spoke up.

“The gambler was faster than my husband. The gambler hung around and gave me a bag of money at the funeral, saying it was on the table when my husband died. It was quite a lot of money so I think he added some extra to it. It’s about all gone now.”

“What are you going to do for cash money now?”

“I’ve got turnip and potatoes to come out of the ground soon. There are melons, squashes, and a lot of beans. After they are dried and threshed out, I’ll hitch up the wagon and take them to town.”

“Where is town?”

“Eight miles west of here. The ford you got hung up at is a regular crossing for those coming down from the north. Sometimes there are cowboys going by that will purchase things for me if I ask. They are each hoping I will pick one of them for a husband. Most of them are respectful, but occasionally I have to turn the shotgun on them. It is a worry.”

“You’ve got it hard, ma’am.” She shrugged and began picking up the things she used on me.

“Rest, now for a few minutes. I’ll get you some food.”

She brought me a noggin of beef stew where I was sitting on the edge of the bed. It was hot and I burned my lips. When the liquid was gone I tipped it up and let carrots, beef, and chunks of potato slide into my mouth. “Want more?”

“I’m good. You’re a good cook. Can’t tell when I’ve had better.” She flushed. I looked at Patty who had been looking at me continually. I smiled and she smiled back and then got behind her mother.

“There’s some rag here to clean your guns. You better polish them shells so they slide easily.”

“You know guns?”

“Yeah, my Pa taught me. I’m taking the shotgun. Patty can carry it back if I find your saddle. I’m taking a knife in case I have to cut the girth.”

“It’s Texas rigged.” She nodded and went out the door. That was some woman. She had trouble and didn’t complain a bit about her what life had served up.

I stripped my pistol and used a little oil on all the parts. I polished the shells with the wipe rag and loaded the gun. I picked up the rifle. That was harder to get apart and I really had to work at it. I had to use the shotgun cleaning rod, because that’s all she had given me. Luckily I was carrying a .44 instead of a .36 or .32. I soon had it back together and fully loaded. I looked around for my holster, but that hadn’t been brought in from the barn.

I lay back onto the bed. It was soft and I knew I would have trouble rising out of the feathers. Actually I could stay right here and take in the scent of the woman. I didn’t dwell on it and the sun was setting when I heard Patty chattering.

“Is gold heavy, Mom?”

“It is after carrying it so far. Now don’t tell Mr. Palmer we peeked.”

“I won’t Mama.”

Sheila came in with the saddlebags. “I found a dry place for your saddle. I couldn’t carry everything.”

“That’s fine. I’ll get it later after I get better. How far was the horse?”

“Almost a mile down stream. The horse was dead. I think it was drowned. It was kind of on its side with its head just out of the water. One front leg was broken. It looked like a good animal.”

“It was. I have a couple more of the same line, but I sure hated to lose him.” I paused, hating to make more work for this woman. “Ma’am, could you maybe heat me a basin of water and carry it out back for me? I’d like to clean up.”

“You’re not that bad. You’ll start to bleeding if you move around.”

“I got to go anyway.”

“Okay, let me get you up. You’re looking better.”

“Yep, almost well. At least my innards won’t fall out.”

“Mr. Palmer, you ain’t well by a long shot. You’re going to be one sick puppy before that is healed up. I’d almost guarantee you’re going to fever up by morning. Get your business done and get back in here while you can. I’m going to give you another bowl of soup and a piece of cheese. There is some crusty bread to go with it all.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I slept, only waking when I heard Patty climb up to the loft. Sheila was moving around the room doing whatever. I then felt her fiddling with the bed and realized she had rolled up a quilt and put it down the center of the bed to divide us.

The fever she said I was apt to develop never did, and I felt pretty good in the morning. I was steadier and needed no help getting around. Patty went out to feed the chickens and we began to talk.

“Are you married Mr. Palmer?”

“No. I’ve been too busy building up my little ranch. I just sold this year’s herd, and I’ll have a few steers to sell every year from now on. The only problem is that I’m hemmed in by the three bigger ranchers around me. I’ve had offers to buy me out, but I’ve put a lot of sweat into the place and hate to leave. Actually I own a good-sized waterhole and a couple of ranch buildings my Pa put up. They’re some better’n you have here, but it’s a man’s place. Not cleaned up like yours.”

Sheila smiled at my compliment and I guess she had to brag a little. “I’m better off than you. There is the crick that is my north boundary and I have a full section under deed. The husband and I were doing well and we intended to buy some cows this year. There is some open range we could have laid claim to, so we could have done well. I guess it will never happen.”

“That’s sad. There’s always marriage again. Good women are pretty scarce.”

“Yeah, and good men are scarce too. I have to think about Patty.”

“You should, she is sweet. Just an observation, but you’ll have to do something soon. Winter will be here in a few months. I noticed you don’t have enough hay in the barn for your horses and I haven’t seen any wood supply.”

“I know. That’s mostly man’s work, but I can do a lot. I’m going to have to break down and ask for help. The only thing is whoever I ask will want something that I don’t want to give for it.”

“Well, you have a little time yet. Is it okay if I think about your problem? I do owe you for sewing me up.

“Think all you want, but I put that bundle down the middle of the bed for a reason.”

“I wouldn’t think of crossing over, Ma’am. I respect you too much for that. If you don’t mind my asking, how did you manage to get a deed on a whole section of land?”

“The land belonged to an uncle of mine. Uncle Pete had come on the land helping out a friend of his and the old man had a deed to the property. He turned it over to Uncle Pete when he died. I’ve got brothers and sisters back in Ohio and Uncle Pete was getting old so he wanted to go back home to be with our family. My husband was working on his father’s farm and a chance at almost free land got him all excited. Patty was only seven at the time, but we came out.

“My husband wasn’t so excited when he got here, but we stuck it out and were about to make out. Going from farmed land back to something that wasn’t much more than raw land, chaffed him some. He took what cash money we had and headed for town to hire us a man to help.” She paused and wasn’t looking at me. Finishing up, she said, “So much for that.”

There was nothing for me to say. There was a little traffic during the day heading for town. I noticed if Sheila was outside, they all took off their hats and said howdy. Sheila saw a wagon with a fifteen-year-old boy driving come down the trail headed for town. There were two riders with the wagon.

Sheila stopped what she was doing outside and came by me where I was sitting in the doorway. “I’m closing the door. That’s the wagon that belongs to Brad Bricknelll who claims the open land that surrounds me on the south. I don’t like him or his men. One of the men is named Finch and he bothers me more than anybody. I guess the youngster is okay. I never had anything to do with him.”

We heard the wagon stop and the three men talking, but they didn’t come up to the house and soon went on.

The sun was getting down in the west in the afternoon. We heard a wagon coming on the trail from town and then stop. “Hey, Miz. Pierson, show yourself.”

Sheila said to me, “That’s Finch and he’s drunk. Patty, you get on the far side of the bed in case he tries to get in.”

I was buckling on my shell belt, but Sheila had my short gun in her hand. I reached for the rifle. It pulled like hell on my belly and I was getting madder by the minute. Mostly to think that drunkard was bothering a good woman.

“If you don’t open the door and talk to me, I’m going to start shooting the door down.” He didn’t wait and began shooting. We weren’t in front of the door and I saw a big sliver of wood come flying across the room and hit Patty in the shoulder. She began screaming.

The shooting didn’t letup and he fired a couple more times. Mad now, Sheila swung open the door and stated shooting with the six-gun. Finch fired once more and the bullet hit Sheila, knocking her back into the room. It was me now in the door shooting. First impression was that Sheila had hit Finch at least twice. His gun was down, but that didn’t stop me. Finch was now on his knees, just waiting for me to put a bullet between his eyes. That done, I swung around looking at the other two. The kid was on the wagon holding the team which was jumping around. The other puncher stood there in shock.

“Drop your gun.”

“Don’t shoot me. I had nothing to do with this.” He wasn’t going to put his hand on his gun to pull it, and unbuckling his belt instead to let it fall. Maybe I might have shot him, I felt like it.

“Is there a doctor in town? The little girl is wounded and Mrs. Pierson is maybe dead. You kid, you get on that empty horse and ride like hell for town. Get us some help here. You better tell the sheriff or deputy what happened here too.”

The kid, gray-faced, followed my orders and the other man held the team. I hurried inside as the horse with the kid was going out of sight. Sheila wasn’t dead, but there was a lot of blood coming from her left side. I tried ripping her dress, but it wasn’t possible. I looked for a knife and cut across the threads. I ripped and the whole side of her dress opened up.

The bullet had taken her in the side just above the hipbone. It was bleeding, but the blood wasn’t pumping out of her. It had cut into her cavity slightly, but it didn’t look like it mangled too badly. Another half-inch and it would have torn her up terrible.

I looked at her face and she asked, “Are you through poking at me?”

“Yeah. I’m going to make a compress out of a pillow case and tie it tight. It’s not bleeding too badly and that ought to hold you until the doctor gets here from town. Patty, come around where your mom can see you. You’re a brave person. Sheila, Patty pulled the big stick right out of her shoulder. I saw her do it when I came back inside. She has bled some, just like you. Two pretty ladies with wounds, and I guarantee you both are going to be fine.

“I’m going to put both of you on the bed and I want you try to sleep if you can. It will be a few hours or so and dark before the doctor arrives. Do you have coffee?”

“There are a few beans left. You can pound them up in that heavy stone mortar on the end of the shelf. I don’t drink coffee so it is all yours.” Patty crawled onto the bed. I looked at her wound. The stab wound looked terribly long, but then she wasn’t very big and it didn’t penetrate deeply. I thought she would be okay. There would be a scar, but could be hidden under a dress.

As gently as I could, I lifted Sheila off the floor and onto the bed. There was blood everywhere and I suppose some would seep into the bed, but I didn’t want to move her around anymore. Both were in pain, but there was nothing I could do about that.

I punched up the fire and put a big basin of water on, knowing the doctor would be here sometime and would ask for hot water. I made up coffee. I was feeling a little sorry for the puncher sitting outside. “Sit on the doorstep and I’ll give you a cup of coffee.”

“Thank’s. God, what a mess. That Finch was trouble and I always knew it. All he ever talked about was Missus Pierson. Is she going to live?”

“Yeah, I think so, but she does need a doctor.”

“Who are you? I’ve never seen you around these parts before.”

“I’m a stranger. I got caught in that gully washer two nights ago. Mrs. Pierson found me. I lost my horse and was waiting to get well. I belong down south in cattle country.”