Chapter 2

At the Crown Bar ranch, Jake Prince was suffering terribly. A ricochet had torn half of his calf away. He was the last man of the Nightriders left alive, but he didn't yet know that fact.

Jake hated doctors! They had not saved his wife, when she had fallen ill. He had blamed all medical people for the loss of his beloved wife, ever since. Her death had turned him into a viciously bitter and hate filled man. Truth be known, though, this time he had to admit that there was a major need for a medical man. It was pretty obvious to everyone that he would die, if the leg was not treated ... and soon!

Through pain and gritted teeth, Jake said to his foreman, "Best go to town an' fetch the doc."

By the time that Frank Logan (the foreman at the Crown Bar ranch) reached Stillwell, all of the fires were out. Oh there were still tendrils of smoke here, and a small lick of flame there, but mainly the fires were out.

Frank rode down the center of town with his mouth agape. Up at the church he could see a small knot of men standing by their horses. The smell of death grew stronger the closer he came to the blasted and burned out structure. The stench of burned and rotting flesh nearly took his breath away.

He rode up to the men and asked, "What the hell happened, here?"

"Somebody done kilt 'em all!" said one man.

"Yep! Looks like they locked the townsfolk in da church, an' done blowed it an' dem up!" said another man.

Still another spoke up and said, "They even kilt the youngins. Now why would some'n go 'n do some'pin like dat?"

Frank knew all to well why it had happened, and who did it, for that matter.

Well, he had an idea, at least ... but he kept quiet about that fact. His boss had invited him along on the raid but Frank had declined. He declared the need to look after the two mares that were about to foal.

Jake took great pride in his riding stock. In fact, he was famous for his saddle horses. He agreed that Frank needed to stay with the mares. That was the only thing that had saved Frank from quitting his job. Frank liked working at the Crown Bar, but he didn't like the things that his boss was getting up to, of late.

'It's all the fault of that new preacher! He's poisoned the minds of the people with his bigotry, ' thought Frank. 'It's starting all over again, only it's the Irish Catholics, this time.'

As had many people, after the Civil War, he had headed west looking to start over. It had taken many false starts for him, because people didn't trust an educated man out here. They all thought that he was running from the law. Finally, Jake had given Frank a chance. He had worked his way up to foreman, and didn't want to start looking again.

"Well, it doesn't look as if I can be of any use here. I need to find the doctor for Jake. He's been hurt. You think the doctor is here?" asked Frank with the nod of his head toward the rubble of the church.

One of the other men spoke up, saying, "Naw, don't think so. He be at the Nelson's. The midwife sent for him, as Mrs. Nelson's havin' a bad time wit' the birthin' of her new youngin. Don't think he come back, yet."

"Thanks, I'll head there, then. Hope my boss doesn't die before I get the doctor."

Frank mounted his horse again, wheeled around, and headed out of town.

'Too bad that I didn't know that earlier, when I rode past the Nelson's place an hour ago, ' thought Frank, trying vainly to put the picture of the ruined town and the blasted bodies out of his mind. He failed as he then thought, 'Damn! I thought that I was finished seeing blasted bodies like that, when the war ended. Well damn, and double damn!'

The doctor was preparing to leave as Frank rode up.

"Doc, Jake is hurt bad, and needs you. He's lost a lot of blood."

"JAKE? It must be bad if he sent for me."

"It is! Pretty near his whole left calf got shot off."

The Doctor stopped halfway into his buggy and asked, "Shot? Who did it?"

"I really don't know," said Frank, which was true, to a point.

The Doctor stared at Frank for a beat, then finished getting into the buggy.

The two men headed for the Crown Bar ranch at a fast pace.

It was now late afternoon as the two women drove their wagons west. Maeve noticed that Shaylee's wagon was slowing and so pulled up beside the other woman's wagon.

What Maeve saw frightened her. The back of her sister's dress and the wagon seat were soaked in blood and the young woman was struggling to stay upright in her seat.

"Can you last another fifteen minutes, Honey?" called Maeve.

"Yes, I think so ... but not much more than that!"

They were at the ford of the Whiskey Barrel River.

"Follow me then," said Maeve as she drove her wagon into the river.

Instead of crossing, though, she stayed in the water and turned upstream. The river curved around some hills a short distance upriver. The hills and the turn in the river, had hid a small copse of trees that held a clearing in the center. Maeve and Shaylee followed a crooked trail and drove into the clearing, and disappeared. There were enough trees and shrubbery to completely hide the two women, the wagons and the animals.

Once stopped Saylee collapsed into the foot well of her wagon. Maeve rushed to her sister and revived her enough to get her out of the wagon. As Shaylee sat against the front wagon-wheel Maeve spread a tarp out. She then settled her sister on it face down and ripped off the remains of Shaylee's dress.

The contents of the general store, which now resided in the wagons, had many patent medicines. Maeve was able ease Shaylee's pain with laudanum. The medication also had a sedative effect and sent Shaylee into slumber quickly. With the young woman asleep her sister was able to treat the tears in the flesh, from the lashing the young woman had taken. Maeve stitched and bound her sister's wounds and only then did she treat her own wound.

By now it was late in the evening. She was too tired to do more than stretch out beside her sister, pull the blankets over the both of them, and sleep.

The morning found Shaylee running a fever from an infection that had started in several of her wounds. Not wanting to give their location away with the smoke of a wood fire, Maeve gathered several oil lamps. She set them under a wire mesh, and used them to boil water. The hot water made quick work of the infected injuries, and hot broth helped both women regain some strength.

Since they had plenty of supplies, the decision was made to stay put until both were healed. Using the oil lamps to cook during the day, and small wood fires at night the women remained unseen by any of those that used the ford in the following days.

By the end of the week Maeve had set up the canvas covers (think 'Conestoga Wagon' from the old western movies) and repacked both wagons in such a way that the women could use one wagon as living quarters and the other as a freight wagon. Shaylee, though far from being healed, was regaining strength and was now able to move about the camp. Soon she was helping with the chores.

Shaylee asked, "How did you know about this place?"

"When that new preacher came to town, and things started to go bad, Himself was chased by some highwaymen. He found this place by accident. It saved his life."

"Ahhh! Well, we can't stay here much longer, we're too close to town," said Shaylee.

"I know. We still need to be very careful. Two women traveling alone, and with all of these goods, are a real temptation to the ruffians around here. Plus, we might run into someone that knows us," said Maeve.

"I know that, but we are heavily armed, aren't we?"

"That's sort of the point I'm trying to make. We would look suspicious, and more interesting."

"What about those shoulder holsters that I found with those small pistols? We could wear those under light jackets? And we could rig scabbards for the rifles and shotguns in the wagons that are out of sight but easy to grab at," said Shaylee warming to her ideas.

"Well ... Yes ... We could do that."

"And we can travel at night until we're clear of this area. There will be plenty of moonlight, for a week or so. Then, once we're far enough away, we could sell all this stuff and take a train to California."

"You had me with you, until you wanted to sell the supplies and go to California. What would we do there? I would rather keep the supplies, and open a general store in some out of the way place."

Shaylee frowned and then said, "Why not worry about that later. After all I'm sure some of the ranchers are out looking for us. They will probably catch and kill us before we get too far, for what we did to the townsfolk anyway."

"True enough girl..." said Maeve with a big sigh as she sat down on a log and began to weep. "I miss them sooo..."

Her sister's tears failed to bother Shaylee. The events of the past weeks had changed the young woman. Hardened her. Instead of comforting her sister she went to the wagon and began to rummage around.

The next morning Maeve awoke to see the back of a man digging around in the supply wagon.

She quietly retrieved her shotgun and then said, "Move real slow mister and keep your hands where I can see them. This here ten bore is loaded with buckshot and will cut you clean in half at this range."

The man stiffened, and then did as instructed.

"Ok. Turn 'round, real slow like, and don't make any move for that side arm of yours."

The man turned and Maeve saw the white face of her sister!

"Please don't shoot, Maeve. It's me, Shaylee."

"You stupid ... I could have killed you! What the hell are you doing dressed like that?" screeched Maeve as she lowered her weapon, and eased the hammers down.

Both women stood in place, shaking from the idea of what might have happened. Then Maeve dropped the gun on the ground, and rushed to hug her sister.

"You stupid, stupid girl! Don't you ever scare me like that again. I couldn't bear to lose you too!"

The women clung to each other for some time then Shaylee said, "Look, Maeve, I'm going to dress like this from now on ... or, at least 'til we stop traveling."