Chapter 3: Death

Willow hadn’t seen her father die.

When she had heard the shots, she had headed back to the camp at a run. She had wandered further from the camp than she had first thought. It was late when they had stopped, but she had needed the exercise and had gone for a walk.

By the time she got back close to the glade, she had heard her mother’s screams. The man called Harry had been trying to rip off her mother’s clothes. Her mother grabbed the hand with the knife with both of hers and stabbed it into herself. Harry lost his temper at her thwarting his fun and had then stabbed her repeatedly, screaming at her for being a stupid bitch.

Willow couldn’t stifle her own scream as she saw the knife plunge into her mother’s chest, again and then again. Her scream alerted the men to her presence. When Paul started in her direction, she had panicked and turned before running back deeper into the grove.

She knew that she shouldn’t feel glad that these men were suffering from pain. She almost wished her protectors had killed them because of the anguish they had caused her. She had hardened her normally soft heart against them.

She doubted, however, that she would ever forget the actions of the two men that stood in front of her. Even when Harry had shot at them, they hadn’t flinched. The older one had returned fire from where he stood. Willow thought she heard a grunt of pain at his last shot into the woods, but she wasn’t sure.

Vincent turned to Ty, “Should I go after him?”

“No, we will leave him for now. We had better round this lot up first,” he sighed. “Go check on your man.”

Ty walked over to the man he shot and examined the wound. “Ouch! That has got to hurt,” he said. He had aimed at his thigh, to stop him running but not to kill him. The man must have lifted his leg high enough that the bullet had skimmed along the muscle and burrowed in under the kneecap. It was still in his leg.

As she had not let go of his hand, Willow had followed Ty. She too looked dispassionately at the wound. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have the tools here to remove a bullet in that position,” she told the man bluntly. “We will have to immobilise your leg until we can get you medical help. Although, it would be easier if we just put a hole in your head.”

Paul balked at her words and looked at Ty wondering if he would shoot him again. Willow sighed, and Ty reluctantly let go of her hand, when she pulled her’s gently from his.

Ty watched as the young woman went and grabbed several strong, thin branches. Her anger at having to help the injured man was evident in her movements. He had felt her flinch when the shots were fired. Yet, she hadn’t screamed and had stayed standing behind him.

“I need something to bind them with if you can suggest something you have?” she told Ty belligerently. Ty grunted and moved back to the camp.

She followed and retrieved a water bottle, a cup and a spoon. They weren’t worried about their prisoner wandering off. She took a large swig out of the water bottle and then poured a small amount into the cup. She turned a little away from Ty, reached under her skirt and removed her pouch.

Ty couldn’t help appreciate the sight. She had very nice, shapely legs, and her blouse was still partially undone, which offered him a delightful view as she leant forward. He thought of those very lavish breasts that had been heaving against his chest not that long ago and felt himself stir again. She was a very delectable piece in spite of the mud.

He was sure the men who had chased her, had intended to find out just how delightful when they had caught her. Suddenly, her eyes met his, and she grinned, knowing exactly where his eyes had strayed. Ty dropped his eyes and opened his pack to retrieve his first-aid kit. The young woman confused and yet attracted him.

She wasn’t like the simpering court ladies that he was used to. She had been surprisingly calm under fire. She had to be in shock. Nevertheless, she was holding it together for now and responding to his directions.

Vincent brought the other two men over and sat them down near the fire. He had Smally’s gun in his belt. It was an old one-shot pistol. Ty glanced at the men and then addressed Willow tersely, “Have a look at his hands, please. Vincent and I will retrieve the other one.”

They went and picked Paul up and then deposited him carefully on his side beside the fire. The man was whimpering at being moved as his knee and upper leg, felt like they were inflamed. Paul was not a very happy man.

Vincent pulled the billy-can off and added the tea leaves to steep. He then built up the campfire again. While he was doing this, Ty went to investigate the spot Harry had disappeared from. A few minutes later Vincent went and joined him.

Meanwhile, Willow had given the two wounded men a healthy swallow of the mixture in her cup. She mixed the remainder of the mixture into a thicker paste as she added more of the crumpled leaf and some other herbs from her pouch. While she waited for the men to drop off to sleep.

Once she believed the drug had taken effect, she placed a small amount of the mixture on the tip of Smally’s now shortened finger and bandaged it up. She thinned the paste and covered the burns on the other hand, but left it unbandaged. Smally didn’t move so she felt safe tending to them.

She went and inspected Paul again and found he was in a deep sleep. She needed to see his leg properly, so she removed the small scissors she had in her pouch and cut off his pant leg. She could use strips of the material to help stabilise the leg after she cleaned up the burns and the bleeding.

She noticed a small lump, just under the base of his kneecap when she gently moved his leg. When she investigated, she realised it was the bullet. So she cleaned off her scalpel and washed the blade in peroxide. She sliced the skin and gently pried the ball out.

She did wonder if the ball had damaged either of the long bones in his lower leg, but the leg had not swelled significantly. She filled the new wound with paste and put a large sticky plaster over it. She had found it in the kit that Ty had tossed her. She loved these new inventions. She washed the burnt skin and the open wound with peroxide.

She spread the paste over the twenty centimetres long wound down the back of the man’s thigh and decided she had better wrap it. She carefully pulled the man’s leg straight. It moved freely without crunching noises.

The knee, however, was starting to swell and she was worried it would displace the bone if he tried to use the leg before it all settled down. Willow grabbed the pants leg and cut it into strips. She tried to tie the strips in several places to hold the sticks in place, but they kept slipping.

She flinched when Brain knelt down opposite her and held the sticks in place for her. She nodded at him and adjusted them slightly and then strapped them in place. She soon had the leg immobilised to her satisfaction. She looked up into the face of the big man and realised he was a simpleton.

Brain gave her his best, lopsided grin, “Brain do good. Brain help pretty lady.” Willow glanced over at the men’s horses when one nickered. They were still agitated by the shooting. Brain followed her look and shook his head.

“Horses frightened,” he said and ambled over to them. They quietened as soon as he approached. He was soon crooning to them. He removed their hobbles and led them to the small stream. Willow placed her hand on the pistol and watched to see if he was shamming her, but Brain did not attempt to leave.

He simply watered the horses as he talked to them. Willow looked at the man she didn’t know, who was called Smally. He had reacted as fast as Harry had and was only missing a finger. He, she didn’t trust at all. She used several of the strips of cloth that she had left over and tied his wrists and ankles together.

Paul, however, wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, so she only tied his hands. She felt safer once they were restrained. Brain came back and sat beside her. He looked at his trussed-up friends sadly with tears in his eyes. “They do bad things, Harry make them. Brain no like guns. Guns do bad things to people.”

She was surprised by how articulate he was. He also seemed to understand some things were bad and some things were good. “Did you hurt my parents, Brain?” She asked him tightly.

Brain shook his head emphatically. “No, no, Brain looks after horses. Horses is Brain’s job. No like, hurt people. Brain to big, no touch people,” the big man had tears coursing down his cheeks.

Willow swallowed several times. She wanted to cry with him, but she knew that now was not the time. She also believed Brain. She asked for the other big man’s name, and Brain said, “He is Smally.” He grinned at her, and the tears were forgotten. “Harry has joke, he Smally, me Brains.”

Willow looked at the big man, and she changed her mind. He wasn’t simple, just a little slow with a short attention span, she guessed. She glanced at the bushes when they rustled and watched her rescuers come back into the clearing.

“Hey,” said Vincent, “Why are our horses over here?”

Willow glanced back at Brain. He grinned at her and winked, “Brain’s horses, no go away if Brain says so.”

Willow had to smile as the man had a Gift. He may not know it, but she believed him. If he said the horses would stay because he told them to, they would stay. She had a feeling many people underestimated his intelligence and Brain let them. He had been genuinely upset by what his friends had done, yet he hadn’t dwelt on what he couldn’t change.

“We tracked Harry heading back the way you came. There are spots of blood on the ground, I must have winged him, but he is long gone,” Ty informed her and Brain.