Veroon
“I’m not a doctor,” she said immediately as she stood in the doorway with her nightdress billowing in the night breeze and the flame in the candlestick guttering. “You have to understand that. I’m not a doctor.”
She stared into the eyes of the youngest man, hazel green and anxious, and his brow had dark hair wisping against tanned skin. The other man was big, with blue eyes narrowed with anxiety. Between them they supported another whose legs had buckled and from whose head blood was seeping copiously.
“Bring him in,” she said quickly, gesturing with her hand for action on their part. She pointed to a door indicating that that was the room to which they were to take their wounded companion.
As she closed the main door to the house, she watched them half-carry, half- drag the other man into the room. Then the bigger of the two deftly caught the other into his arms and lifted him very gently up and onto the bed. Both then turned to her, as though expecting her to perform a miracle like a magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat. The bigger of the two swept off his tall hat, and clasped it against his chest, while the younger, hatless and tousled haired, stood closer to the bed.
“Ma’am, I’m sure sorry we had to disturb you like this but the folks in the saloon said you were the nearest they had here to a doctor.”
She said nothing to that but set down the candle beside the bed while she looked down at the wounded man. She then took a taper and having caught the flame from the candle began to light the wicks of the lamps in the room.
“What happened?” she asked as she took hold of the limp hand and felt for the pulse.
“We stopped by the saloon…” the big man started to say, his eyes fixed on the face of the man now unconscious on the bed. “We’d only been there a few minutes when a fight started between some men at a poker game.”
She looked at the speaker. His voice was shrill, young and angry; it trembled with suppressed emotion. He lowered his eyes at her gaze and a slight frown furrowed his brow,
“We were minding our own business. There was no need for us to be involved, after all, we were – are – strangers in this place.” He spat out the words as though ‘this place’ was nothing less than Sodom and Gomorrah. “Then they started throwing furniture about and my brother,” he indicated the wounded man, “saw that one of the girls was going to get hurt so he stepped in to swing her out of the way and got belted by a chair for his pains.”
“He went down like a pack of cards, ma’am,” added the younger one.
“I think he’s really hurt, Miss. We had to drag him out of the place with the fighting just getting worse. One of the girls – the girl he helped – told us to bring him to you. She said you’d know what to do.”
She took a deep breath and looked at them both again as though they were crazy to think her capable of helping anyone. After a moment or two she couldn’t bear to look upon their worried faces any more but turned back to the one on the bed. “Your brother did you say?”
“Yes,” they both replied instantly.
She nodded and looked back at them. “I’ll get some things. Just keep him comfortable here. I shall not be long.”
The door closed silently behind her. Hoss and Joe Cartwright looked at one another. Hoss shook his head and bit down on his bottom lip. Joe ran his fingers through his thick mass of hair, making it more tousled and disarrayed than ever.
“We shouldn’t have stopped here,” Joe cried. “We should have just ridden on through.”
“Sure, and why shouldn’t we have stopped here? Who was to know this was going to happen? It was just one of those things, Joe; it could have happened to any of us.”
Joe said nothing but looked bleakly at Hoss before turning to his brother on the bed. Blood was staining the white pillow case, and it looked as though it was taking every vestige of color from the young man’s face, so pale did he look as he lay there.
“Do you think she’ll be able to help him? She didn’t seem too happy about it all, did she?” Joe whispered.
Hoss had barely opened his mouth to reply when the door re-opened and she stood there with a bowl in her hands. Bandages and cotton wool were tucked under her arm. Joe noticed that she had hurriedly pulled on a dressing gown over her night dress because it was inside out and he could see the seams.
She placed everything down beside the bed and then looked at Hoss. “Could you turn him onto his side so that I can look at his head?” She pulled the lamp closer as Hoss did as he was told.
For a few moments, she examined the wound, cleaned it carefully and gently, and then placed wads of lint and cotton wool on the wound. She then bandaged it. Joe swallowed nervously. The silence was making him feel as taut as a bow string.
“Ma’am, Miss – er – Nurse, is he going to be alright?” he eventually had to ask.
“A scalp wound usually looks far worse than it really is, because the skin is thin and close to the skull which is bone. It isn’t that which concerns me so much as these.” She pointed to the bruises and contusions that were now visible under the tanned skin. “I am worried that there could be some damage to the upper vertebra here” -- she pointed to the neck, brushing aside dark curls as she did -- “and here.”
Joe followed her finger and then looked up at her. For an instant, the fact that she had green eyes flashed through his mind, before he tried to take in the information, she was passing to them about Adam’s condition.
“What kind of damage are you talkin’ about exactly, Ma’am?” Hoss asked as he gently rolled Adam into a reclining position on the bed.
“Nerve damage. I’m not a doctor so I can’t tell for sure, but it seems to me he has been unconscious for a very long time.”
“And this – this here nerve damage, what could happen as a result of that, huh?” asked Hoss. The blue eyes clouded and the brow was furrowed. She could see little beads of sweat beginning to dampen the skin.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly, and she began to rinse the blood from the man’s face with the wet cloth. “I couldn’t say. We shall have to wait to find out.”
“How long will that take?” Joe asked impatiently and the green in his eyes flashed.
“We would probably know that almost as soon as he regains consciousness.”
They looked at one another across the body of their brother and both sighed. Perhaps they were both thinking the same thing. Perhaps they were both dreading the same ordeal.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Hoss said in his quiet voice. “We sure are grateful for what you did for Adam. Are you sure there ain’t no doctor around this here place?”
“Quite sure.”
She looked down at Adam and sighed, and then looked at his brothers before holding out her hand. “My name is Veronica, Veronica Sadler.”
“Hoss Cartwright; this here is my little brother, Joseph, and – and Adam, he’s our brother.”
She nodded and busied herself with folding things away and opening some drawers from which she took some towels. These she placed on a chair by the bed. “Hoss – would you undress your brother please and get him into bed. We should try and make him as comfortable as possible.”
“Yes, sure, Ma’am.”
“I’ll go and make us some coffee. I’m sure you would both like to have something to drink while you wait for your brother to regain consciousness.”
Once again the two young men exchanged looks and then Hoss nodded affirmation. She closed the door behind her and they could hear her footsteps retreating down the hallway.
It took them very little time to get Adam undressed and into the bed. He groaned once or twice and his eye lids fluttered but apart from that there was only a foreboding stillness. She returned with a promptness that surprised them both, but went to the bed and straightened the bedclothes in that efficient manner most nurses displayed, pulling the sheets so rigidly tight that the patient was left in no doubt that retreat was futile.
“Come into the kitchen. You look as if you could both do with something to drink and eat.”
They said nothing, but followed her with an alacrity that assured her that she was correct in her estimation. Within minutes they were sitting at the table enjoying the aroma of hot bitter coffee and some food.
“What happened to the doc? Surely a town this size has a doc?” Hoss asked politely as he set his hat down on an empty chair beside him.
“He died last year,” she replied and turned to the bureau to get down a cookie jar which was placed between them.
“How come?”
“Someone shot him when he failed to save their brother’s life.”
“So what happened then? Did the sheriff arrest the man?” Joe asked, stuffing his mouth with food.
“Yes, he did,” Veronica Sadler replied slowly, as though the answer needed careful consideration before she could answer it truthfully.
“And there ain’t bin no doctor here since?” Hoss frowned. “How do the folks manage?”
“Well, there’s me and there’s John Macy. He’s the undertaker. In all fairness to him, he doesn’t let one business predominate over the other. He’s very interested in herbs and things like that, and he can do minor surgical things – like take out bullets.”
Hoss shook his head and Joe suppressed a grin. An undertaker healing rather than measuring up for a wooden overcoat rather amused him. He was about to make some comment when the door handle of the kitchen rattled, and the door shook beneath the power exerted upon it.
“Veroon, are you alright? Open the door and let me in.”
Veronica Sadler drew in a deep breath and Joe could see that her knuckles whitened as she held her hands close together; however, her voice was firm when she called back
“I’m alright. Just go away, Duke, and leave me alone.”
“Open the door, Veroon. Let me in now.”
It was a thick voice, thick and slurred and full of the passions of a drunken man. Hoss Cartwright half rose from his chair with his hand close to his gun handle, but Veronica raised a cautionary hand to stop him from doing anything further.
“I told you to go away. You’re drunk. Go home to Jeanie; she’ll be waiting up for you.”
The door shook again as it was given a formidable shaking and the door handle rattled. She looked at Joe and Hoss before shaking her head. “He’ll go away in a moment. It’s all right.”
Joe sat down, and looked at the door. The heavy bolts at the top and bottom of the door were drawn across and he wondered just how safe she would have been had they not been so. He bit his bottom lip and thought of the front door. How safe was that from assault? Or would this so-called Duke not think of going there.
“He’s drunk. He doesn’t mean any harm.”
They said nothing between them, but both Joe and Hoss could hear the tremble in her voice. They had seen the color slip from her face and her hands flutter to her throat. But now in silence they drank their coffee and finished the cookies.
“I’ll just go and check on your brother.” Veronica stood up and then looked at them both, “There is a doctor in Genoa, which is about a day’s ride from here.”
“Yes, Ma’am, we know. We were heading towards Genoa when we reached the outskirts of this place,” Joe replied, looking at her with his usual open eyed honesty.
“Do you want to sit with your brother? I have some blankets and the chairs are not so uncomfortable.”
They nodded and followed her into the bedroom where the ailing man was found in the exact same position as they had left him. She approached him and felt his brow, her hand felt for the pulse at his throat. “His skins clammy and he’s feverish. Will you come and get me if he worsens or wakes up?” She looked at them and they nodded, “I need to get some sleep; it’s been such a busy day. The blankets are there in the ottoman.”
“Thanks, ma’am,” Joe acknowledged with a nod.
“We’re mighty grateful for your help, Miss Sadler.”
She said nothing to their words of thanks, but took one of the lamps and left the room. The door closed quietly behind her.
**********
Veronica Sadler was a tall woman, with green eyes and hair the shade of brown that many blondes attain with time. She was an attractive woman but made solemn by the experiences of life that had been hers since she had reached this so-called promised land years before with her father. Henryk Bergen had been an honest coppersmith in the Netherlands but had decided to uproot himself and his family for better prospects in America. Veronica had been six years old when they had sailed away from home and family. She could vaguely recall the fluttering white hankies that had been waved to them from all those she had loved. She could remember watching those pale little waving flags until they had quite disappeared from sight and she knew then that she would never see any of those loved ones again.
There had been father’s parents and three sisters and four brothers and their various husbands and wives and children. There had been her mother’s father, sister and brother-in-law. There had been school friends, the teacher, the preacher. They had all gathered there to bid them farewell and adieu.
When she was ten, her brother had died of diphtheria. When she was fourteen, her mother had died from tuberculosis. Her father had re-married and lived in New York. For all she knew, he was still there, living happily ever after. She had met a young doctor, fallen in love, trained as a nurse and married.
Andrew Sadler had been handsome, strong and a brilliant doctor. He had swept her off her feet and made her the happiest woman in the whole world. When he had suggested that they go to the aid of those men and women who were conquering the wilderness, she readily agreed. Together they had worked side by side in various townships in an attempt to stem the tide of disease, injury and death. What they had been unable to stop was the tide of greed, hatred, jealousy and prejudice.
So they had finally arrived at this township that had mushroomed from nothing two years previously. It was called Boulder Flats and was home to a population of 350. Together she and Andrew had cared for their ills, the delivery of babies, the untimely deaths, the injuries.
Now she took off her dressing gown and set it across the chair, noticing, as Joe had done earlier, that she had worn it inside out. She slipped into the cold bed and pulled the blankets high up to her chin. She closed her eyes and as always, every night, her mind played over the same scenario that had become like a ritual to her before sleep could come.
The knock on the door. Mrs. Jefferson looking at her with big eyes and a lantern held high. “Mrs. Sadler. I jest heard.”
“Heard what?”
“Your husband was killed this evening in an accident.”
“An accident? What do you mean? Not MY husband?”
“Yes, that’s right. Your husband.”
She had stared at the woman. She had wanted her to take her into her arms and give her comfort, consolation, sympathy but there was nothing. There was just embarrassment in her eyes, and an anxious longing to return to her own home. “How did it happen? Do you know?”
“I don’t know…but I thought I should come and tell you.”
Then the door was closed. Then there had been nothing but the sound of the clock ticking away the minutes.
She had seen him that morning as she had waved him goodbye. It had been a busy day but she had not expected him home until late because Janet Sullivan was having her third baby and always took a long time to deliver. She had expected him home. She had not expected that he would never be coming home again.
She had gone to their room and opened the blankets. There were his nightclothes ready for him once more. There were his things on the bedside table. Everything in its place. Everything where it should be…except…he wasn’t coming home.
In the morning, she had gone to the undertaker and stood at the door, waiting for admittance. People had paused, stopped to look at her, walked on. John Macy had come to the door and opened it. He had told her that Andrew was there, but she could not see him. Better not. Better leave it. She had turned away, too numbed and too shocked to argue.
Then they had put him in a hole in the ground. So many people had come to watch, to be there, to share without sharing. One of the pallbearers had slipped on the wet soil and she had nearly laughed, wondering if he would fall into the grave and had he done so, would he ever have got out again?
Veronica Sadler felt the tears slip from her eyes, hot and salty. This was what went through her mind every night. It took its ritual course instead of the prayers that once she would have uttered.
***********
“I wonder if he has brown eyes. A man with that coloring should have brown eyes.”
The thought slipped unbidden into her mind. Her own eyes opened in startled amazement at the words and the feelings that they had provoked. She could feel the blush on her cheeks as hot as though she had been caught in flagrante.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have thought that,” she whispered.
Who was she addressing? No one answered. She closed her eyes again and tried to reassemble her thoughts. Why shouldn’t she think thoughts like that, she asked herself. Who was she answerable to now anyway?
************
Adam Cartwright allowed himself a long drawn out sigh before the groan slipped from his lips. It was odd how he could not remember what had happened. Nor could he recall where he was now. He looked once again around the room and frowned slightly, or rather, to the extent that the pain would allow. Hoss was snoring in a chair that was tilted upon its back legs against a wall. Joe was slumped in a chair opposite, his cheek resting in one hand, and his elbow in danger of slipping off the chair arm.
Adam closed his eyes and wondered, briefly, whether the three of them had behaved in some way so badly that they had been evicted from their hotel. He was sure that they had booked rooms in the hotel.
He allowed himself the chance now to think back over the past day. Hot, wearisome and boring as always when they were riding home from a cattle drive. There was the long haul to Genoa and then the last stretch home. He screwed his eyes up slightly in an effort to recall what had happened en route. That’s right, Joe had ridden up with the news that there was a new settlement mushroomed up some miles ahead. Going there, he had told them, would save them having to go to Genoa, and the discomfort of camping again overnight.
“I cain’t recall no new settlement around hereabouts,” Hoss had scowled as the hope of eating a good meal in his favorite diner in Genoa appeared to be fading quickly.
“Well, there obviously wasn’t one last time we came this way…” Joe argued, his eyes going green as he prepared for a verbal tussle.
“That was about two years ago now,” Adam had interposed, too tired and irritable to argue about this matter. A new settlement nearby meant a decent night’s sleep in a – hopefully – half reasonable hotel.
“Exactly,” Joe had nodded, as he saw victory within his reach, “A new settlement just busting with nice clean hotel rooms, clean sheets, and clean …”
“Fer Pete’s sake, Joe, stop making such a meal about it all,” Hoss had grumbled, and looked over at Adam. “I suppose you’re all for going there, huh?”
“It’ll mean a few hours less riding, and a bed for the night instead of camping over mid-way to Genoa.”
So they had ridden into this new settlement and noticed the bustle that seemed to be part of the enthusiasm behind anything new. The false fronted stores still gleamed with fresh whitewash and paint, and there was evidence of new buildings being erected further along the main street.
Adam had felt a tingle of apprehension as he passed the Undertaker’s. A tall, lean man with a cadaverous appearance was talking to a man cast in the same mold as Hoss, and as the three brothers had passed them by, both men had paused in their conversation to stare over at them. Their look had been long, lingering and less than friendly.
A while later they had gone to the saloon. Newly painted it may have been but the interior was already soiled with the detritus of life in such an environment. Tobacco stains on the floorboards where spittle had missed the spittoons, other stains that did not warrant closer inspection, and the stain from smoke, along with its stench, permeated the air, which was stale. All three of them noticed the hiatus as they entered the building. Hoss had put on his most friendly air which he adopted when in strange places like this one. Unfortunately, it just made him look as though he were someone’s lost property being propelled around for show.
Adam and Joe had placed the order for whiskey and waited for the drinks to arrive. As Adam had raised the glass to his lips, he had taken the opportunity of looking into the mirror ahead of him, and seen the man who had been standing out side the Undertaker’s enter the room, walk over to a table where the men had been engrossed in a poker game. He had grabbed at an arm, twisted the wrist and uttered some obscenity into the air. Within seconds, the table had been over thrown, a fist had swung and he had winced at the sound of knuckles striking flesh.
Adam recalled a very young girl caught mid-way between the stairs and the fighting. He had seen her face, beneath its coating of paint and powder, go several shades whiter. It had been then that Adam had decided it was time to act on her behalf, for it was evident that no one else in the room was going to bother.
He had grabbed her wrist and Hoss, acting on the same impulse as his brother, had appeared by his side and picked her up with ease. It had taken no time at all to swing her into his arms, up over the heads of the brawling men, and onto the stairs. The big man who had started the fight had said something -- a threat perhaps, or just a curse. Adam could not now recall the exact words, but he saw the fist coming his way and ducked.
With a sigh, Adam closed his eyes again. He had ducked and that was all he could remember now. The nauseating smell of the place still filled his nostrils, along with the iron taste of blood in his mouth.
“Are you feeling alright, Adam?”
He blinked, opened his eyes and looked up into the anxious eyes of his brother, Hoss. He tried to nod but the pain that rattled his brain as a result was barely worth the effort. It was then the door opened, and Veronica stepped into the room.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, holding a candlestick in one hand and not seeming to notice that the wax was dripping onto the floor, for her eyes were fixed on the pale face of the man in the bed, or rather, upon the brown eyes of the man.
“Everything’s fine now, Miss,” Hoss replied, greeting her with a smile. “Elder brother here’s decided to wake up at last.”
Adam crinkled his brow and looked at her. He was aware of green eyes looking into his, and that there appeared to be a blush upon her cheeks. “This isn’t the hotel then?” he said in his deep voice, and she shook her head before glancing away, conscious from her reflection in the mirror opposite that she was blushing and aware now of the hot wax which had dripped upon her hand.
“Your brothers brought you here, Mr. Cartwright.”
“She’s the doc,” Hoss said by way of explanation, and smiled at them both as though he were in on some secret but not really sure what the secret could possibly be.
“What’s going on?” Joe mumbled, sitting straight backed in the chair and trying to look alert and aware but failing miserably with his hair all tousled and his eyes heavy with sleep.
“Adam’s woken up,” Hoss explained.
“Adam?” Joe snapped alert and went immediately to his brother’s side. “Adam? How are you feeling now?”
“I’m not sure,” came the honest reply. “A bit confused. Like the sky fell on my head …”
“It was a chair,” Hoss said by way of explanation. “And the guy who used it was built like a gorilla.”
“That would be Duke,” Veronica said quietly. “You obviously made some impression on him.”
“I rather think he made an impression on me…on my head, at any rate,” Adam groaned.
“Can you sit up?” Veronica asked and waited for him to lift himself from the pillows into a sitting position.
Adam struggled. He felt pain like knives sear down his back and his right arm. When he put some pressure on his arm for support, it collapsed from the weight. He frowned and looked at her. “My wrist, arm, feel numb.”
“Let me see.” She took hold of the young man’s hand and looked at it thoughtfully. She wondered if they could see her heart thudding beneath her clothes as she felt the warm flesh between her fingers. Carefully she examined the well shaped limb, she flexed the fingers and bent them and tweaked them. Then she set it down again and looked at him.
“You must have raised your arm to protect yourself from whatever was coming and got it severely bruised as a result. Nothing’s broken but the bruising has caused the weakness in your muscles. It will repair in time.”
“How much time?”
“It depends on how badly bruised it is,” she replied, crinkling her brow and looking thoughtfully into his face. “May be a day or two.”
“Pa won’t be happy with us stuck here for a day or two,” Joe muttered, and he bit his bottom lip and looked at his brothers so as to discern their opinions.
“Oh, I’ll be alright.” Adam replied, leaning on his left arm and managing to struggle into a sitting position. “I’m sure the young lady will be able to get me enough medicine to help me along.”
“I can give you something for the pain, but it won’t compensate for the weakness and inability to use your arm. There’s bruising at the base of your skull and across your back. I can’t really advise you to travel for a few days at least.”
“Look, Miss, I’ve been hit with worse things than a chair in my life,” Adam protested, his brown eyes smoldering.
“Yeah, but not all of ‘em had someone like this Duke involved, did they?” Hoss scowled. “Who is this guy anyhows? Ain’t he the feller who tried to get into the house a few hours back?”
“He’s just a troublemaker. No one of any importance,” Veronica said quietly as she filled a glass with water and gave Adam some laudanum. She held the glass to his mouth and made him drink it with that authoritative air of a trained nurse who will brook no nonsense from any of her patients.
Joe frowned and sighed before resuming his position on the chair. He leaned back and surveyed the ceiling. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this …” he muttered.
“Yeah, me as well…” Hoss said as he looked from one brother to the other. “Pa will be expecting us back tomorrow evening at the latest. This stopover was to save us some time, remember?”
“There’s nothing stopping you two from going on from here,” Adam suggested, leaning gratefully back against the pillows. There was little point in pretending, he thought, but the fact remained that he was in agony and whatever the medicinal draught was meant to do, it seemed to be taking their time in doing it. He looked ruefully down at his right hand and arm. “I’m not going to be able to sit a horse for a while.”
“There would be little point in even thinking about it,” Veronica said as she folded a blanket neatly across the bed.
“What do you suggest then? That Hoss and I get back home? We can taken the money home and then come back for you, if you like?”
“Come back for me?” Adam said with a hint of scorn in his voice. “What do you think I am? Some kinda greenhorn that needs a wet-nurse? Look, I’ve found my way around these places on my own for some years now and …”
“It ain’t that,” Hoss said, and he gave Veronica a narrow eyed look before turning his attention back to his brother. “I just got a bad feeling about this Duke feller and I …”
“Hoss, quit fretting will you?” Adam shook his head, winced and closed his eyes. “The guy was drunk and that was all. There was nothing personal involved so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah? Then why did he come round here tryin’ to bust in like he did? Skeered Miss Sadler to death, he did.”
Veronica blushed and shook her head. She put out a hand and rested it gently upon the big man’s arm. “No, I wasn’t scared. Really, I wasn’t.”
“Ma’am, you may be a good nurse, but you ain’t a good liar. I know a lady that’s skeered when I see one. Ain’t that right, Joe?”
“He’s right, Ma’am. Hoss is an authority on scared ladies.” Joe smiled, making a futile attempt at some banter to lighten the mood.
She made no reply but stroked back a pleat in the blanket as though the most important thing on her mind was getting it neat and tidy. She felt the eyes of her patient rest upon her and looked up. Well, they were brown. Brown with long lashes that formed the most delightful shadows upon his darkly tanned skin. She cleared her throat, and bowed her head. “Duke wants to marry me. He thinks I want to marry him. That’s because he’s all mixed up inside himself and drunk most of the time. Anyway, I don’t want to marry him and eventually he’ll get to realize the fact.”
Adam looked thoughtfully at her and then looked over at his brothers. “In the morning, help me get to the hotel room. Then you get home with the money for Pa. I’ll be alright.”
“You don’t have to …” She paused and took a deep breath, then allowed a slight smile to touch her lips although the smile never reached her eyes. “If you can walk over to the hotel, I’ll get Macy to come and see to you.”
“Macy?” Adam frowned.
“He’s the undertaker,” explained Joe with his eyes twinkling. He gave his elder brother a kindly pat on the shoulder. “He’ll take real good care of you, Adam. One way or the other,” he chuckled.
Adam said nothing to that but closed his eyes. Perhaps those pills were working now. He felt light-headed and tired. Really, really tired.
****************
“Ma’am, may I ask you summat?” Hoss paused in eating, ham speared to the tines of his fork as he gazed up at her with his blue eyes begging a question.
“Of course you may,” she replied, leaning over to pick up the coffee pot and thus give her an opportunity to hide her face should the question be too personal.
“Last night – you told us that the guy who had killed your husband was arrested.”
“Yes.” She looked at Joe. “Some more coffee, Joe?”
Joe nodded, his mouth too full of food to speak. He was still tired and ached from having fallen asleep in that chair by Adam’s bed. He held his cup aloft and glanced sideways over at his brother who appeared to have lost his thread of thought.
“So what happened? Was he tried? Did they hang ‘im?”
“No. He was not tried nor hanged.” Veronica sat down slowly, and stared down at her plate. She could remember it all so well.
The sheriff had arrived the day before Andrew’s funeral to tell her that they had arrested the man who had killed her husband. With great gentleness, he had told her that her husband had been shot once in the back and once in the face. He had held her hand and looked into her face and promised her that his murderer would be tried and hanged.
She remembered watching him walk across the road while her broken heart bled even more. No wonder Macy had wanted to spare her the sight of her beloved Andrew’s remains. No wonder.
She had seen the sheriff at the funeral and once again he had assured her that her husband would have justice. He was a kind, gentle man. Too kind and too gentle for the job the citizens had forced upon him. The next morning there was a notice on the door of the sheriff’s office: “Gone fishing”
Veronica raised her eyes to meet the blue gaze of the young man seated opposite to her. She blinked and came back to the present. She realized that Joe was also now waiting for her to reply.
“Sheriff Henderson went fishing. He never came back.”
“Went fishin’?” Hoss screwed up his nose in amazement and his blue eyes widened. “Gone fishin’?”
“The jail was empty. His prisoner was gone. My husband’s murderer…” Her voice trailed away and she sighed, and picked up her cup, raised it to her lips. “He’s still in town. He has an alibi. Ten people swore that he was in the saloon that day. His brother was dying, my husband was attending to him, and he…” her lips twisted into a parody of a smile, “he was in the saloon, drinking and gambling.”
“You said that your husband was killed by a patient’s brother so perhaps…” Hoss’ voice trailed away as he tried to think of how he would react if Doctor Martin had at any time failed in saving Joe or Adam. “Perhaps at some other time, perhaps.”
“My husband was killed at 5 o’clock on a Thursday evening. His killer could not possibly have been in two places at once. Mr. Cartwright…Hoss, it’s something I have to live with every day of my life. I think about it, try to work out some way I can get justice. But what good is anything I have to say when the only witnesses to my husband’s death are a dead man and my husband’s killer?”
“And he’s still here in town?” Joe said quietly.
“Yes. Duke Crossley.”
The brothers looked at one another and Hoss sighed. “Can’t you get no one else to sign up as sheriff and then git him arrested?” Hoss asked quietly.
“No one wants to sign up as sheriff, Hoss. No one wants the privilege. And anyway,” she shrugged, “if there were a sheriff, what could he do against ten witnesses?”
“Yeah, that’s a good round number,” Joe admitted, cradling his cup within his hands. “And this is the guy who claims he wants to marry you?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Seems like, perhaps, Mr. Crossley’s brother’s death wasn’t the real reason for your husband’s death, Ma’am.”
“I – I guess not.” She dropped the cup with a clatter into the saucer and raised her hands to her face, “Oh, what can I do? What can I do?” A tear trickled through her fingers and glistened like a diamond before falling with an unceremonious plop onto the table.
“Wal, reckon there ain’t much you kin do jest now, Ma’am. But Joe and me …we’ll think on it and find some ways of sortin’ it all out fer yer, don’t you fret none,” Hoss murmured, and placed a reassuring hand on her arm.
“Yeah,” Joe nodded and looked over at Hoss as though to say ‘Are you out of your mind?’ “Sure, we’ll sort out something, Mrs. Sadler,” he assured her and then his face relaxed into a smile. “If we don’t, then Adam’s sure to come up with something. Our brother won’t let the grass grow under his feet, Ma’am; that I can promise you.”
“Your brother isn’t well enough to do anything just now, Mr. Cartwright, least of all sort out this problem.”
“Ain’t you never thought of leaving here and jest leaving it all behind yer?” Hoss asked, wondering if his handkerchief was clean enough to offer her.
“I tried once, but Duke was there with his so called friends to stop me. He threatened me with – with some quite unpleasant things that could happen to me if I tried to leave town again. There are people here I am fond of, people whom he could hurt.”
“Sounds like a real nice kinda friend to have around,” Hoss scowled.
“His brother was a kind man. Very thoughtful and considerate. He put a lot of money into this town. He wanted to leave his mark in this country’s history. He used to come here often and talk his plans and hopes over with Andrew and me. He wanted to marry.” Veronica Sadler sighed and wiped her eyes on a scrap of a handkerchief all lace trimmed and hardly what Hoss would consider substantial enough for anyone’s use.
“Do you know what was wrong with him? The reason Andrew was called out to see to him?” Joe asked thoughtfully, pouring himself another cup of coffee in an effort to think more clearly.
“An accident in the stable. Jeanie – that’s his sister – found him.”
“She’d know if Duke were there, wouldn’t she?”
“She refused to testify against her brother at the time he was arrested. He lives in the big house with her and she’s terrified of him. She always has been, ever since they were small children.”
“So, she could have seen what really happened, and is jest too skeered to come on out and say it.” Hoss sighed, and shook his head. “This sure is a sad state of affairs, Ma’am.”
“There’s more involved than just my husband’s death, Hoss. A lot more.”
***********
Jeanie Crossley poured out black coffee into her brother’s cup and scanned his face anxiously. Over the past year her brother had aged to an extent that she wondered whether or not there was an underlying physical cause. She could not feel in her own mind that it was related to her brother Paul’s death, as he and Duke had always been at odds with one another. Paul had been peaceable, intelligent and kind. Suffice to say that Duke possessed none of these qualities. Even now she would wonder how her parents had managed to produce two such different characters.
“What’s the matter with you?” Duke demanded suddenly, snapping out of his reverie and catching her unawares being so deep in thought.
“Nothing, Duke, nothing,” she stammered and hurried to the range to get his eggs finished just how he liked them.
“I hate seeing your face first thing in the morning. Do you realize how sickening it is for a man to see a face like yours first thing? No wonder you never got married. Who’d want to marry a miserable looking wretch like you?”
“I’m sorry, Duke. I don’t mean to – to look – look miserable,” the poor woman stammered, as she tried even harder to get the eggs just right. “I didn’t hear you come in this morning …”
“What time I get in is none of your affair. Just shut your mouth and get my food. And mind your own business. I don’t want you prying into what I do with my life.”
“No, Duke.”
“And stop looking so scared all the time. Anyone would think you’d seen a ghost the way you go looking about the house. I don’t know why I let you stay here. You ain’t no use nor ornament.” He grabbed the plate from her and slapped it down on the table, grabbed at the coffee and gulped it down. “Coffee’s cold. Why don’t you keep it on the range to keep it hot, for Pete’s sake.”
Jeanie hurried to put the coffee pot on the range, and looked frantically about her. This house had been built from the money Paul had made when they sold their parent’s house in Reno. Paul had always said that the house was theirs, just theirs, not Duke’s. Duke had not put any capital into the investment and therefore had no right to profit by it. Now Paul was dead and the house, legally, was hers. All of it. Duke had no rights to it and yet here he was telling her that she had no right to be there.
She felt a shiver run from head to toe. If Duke threw her out of this house where would she go? Paul had always looked after her. Even when he had hoped to marry Yvonne, he had promised that she would always be part of their family until, one day, someone would marry her. Paul would say with a gentle smile, “I don’t know what I’ll do when that time comes, Jeanie dear. You’re the dearest sister in the world and I shall resent whoever the lucky man is heartily.”
She clasped her hands together tightly, and wrung them as though in some way she could find some solution just by doing so. She watched Duke gobble his way through his food. He’s liverish. He’s been drinking again. Oh why, why do I have to see him there and not Paul? Why did Paul have to die?
She turned away to cut the bread. Paul had gone to the stable to check his horse. He said that it had been ill with colic and hopefully had got through the night. What else had happened that day? She struggled to remember as she sawed through the bread. Duke came. Yes, Duke had come and talked to Paul. Then he had left and Paul had told her not to worry about what she had overheard. It had nothing to do with her. She was quite safe. No one would get hurt.
“What do you think your doin’ now? Keep sawing like that and there won’t be no table left.”
She jumped, startled by the harsh voice that had broken so rudely into her memories. Paul’s last day on earth and she could barely remember any of it because of Duke. Duke and his coarse manners, his drunkenness and loud voice. She spun round, the knife in her hand pointed at him and her eyes blazing. “Stop it. Leave me alone,” she shrieked.
Duke stopped in his tracks, startled. Then he began to laugh. He threw back his head and laughed aloud. When she screamed again at him to stop, he laughed even more loudly. When she lunged forward with the knife, he just grabbed her wrist and twisted it. The knife clattered to the floor. Then he hit her across the face. He was still laughing when she fell to the floor and the blood seemed to spill from her head like wine from an overturned bottle.
**********
Later he came down from his room and stared at her as though he saw something that offended him, rather than someone who could cause distress. He pushed her body with the toe of his boot and it was sluggish, heavy.
Now the enormity of what had happened struck home to him. Not that he had taken a life, and that of his own sister, but that he could face a murder charge. His brain, never fast at the best of times, merely told him to run.
So he did. He got onto his horse and left the house, and its occupant, as quickly as he could.
An hour later and Hank Jefferson went sleepy eyed into his barn. He scratched his chest and yawned. Then he rubbed his eyes and his face. He muttered and mumbled several oaths under his breath and stretched. “Hey, whatta you doin’ in my barn?”
The man stretched out on the straw yawned and sat up. “Is it mornin’ already? You got coffee brewin’ yet, Hank?”
Who better to provide him with an alibi than his drunken companion from the previous evening? Together, arms wrapped around one another’s shoulders, they stumbled to the house where Hank promised him a fine liquid diet to set him up for the day. That, Duke decided, was just the medicine he needed.
***************
At least his legs worked. Adam tried to stretch and winced with pain. No doubt the bruises and contusions on his back were causing him more trouble than he had realized and his arm and hand were still numb. He could not even clench his fingers. Veronica had made him a comfortable sling and given him some more laudanum.
“This puts me to sleep …” he muttered as he swallowed it down dutifully.
“Your body puts you to sleep. This will dull the pain, I promise you.”
Her fingers had brushed against his very lightly. She was aware of it and blushed but Adam, his hand totally numb, felt nothing and wondered why she blushed.
Joe was sitting opposite him now, waiting to escort him to the hotel. As Adam swallowed down the last of his coffee he cast another look over at his brother and frowned. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Joe? You look as though you’re trying to save the world.”
“I was thinking of Veronica and how we could help her. Nothing wrong with that, is there?” Joe replied defensively.
“Nothing at all,” Adam replied quietly. “But thinking about it, and concocting one of your notions is another thing. I can tell from your face that you’re hatching some kind of plot. Now, Joe, the only plot you should be planning right now is to get to Virginia City in good time so that Pa can bank that money before the deadline.”
Joe cast a look of exasperated irritation in his brother’s direction and then sighed. “Ain’t it weird though, that they ain’t got no Doc and no Sheriff to replace the ones they lost?”
“Weirder things have happened no doubt,” Adam set the cup down on the saucer and stood up. “I’ll find my own way over to the hotel, Joe. You just sit here and make yourself comfortable. Think up a few more plans. Elect yourself sheriff and …”
“That’s it! That is it!” Joe jumped up and clicked his fingers in triumph. “I’ll go and get myself appointed as sheriff and Hoss can be deputy. Then we can go to see that Miss Jeanie and…”
“Hold on, hold on there.” Adam raised one hand and shook his head. “First – you get home with that money.”
“But, if…” Joe protested.
“No ifs and no buts, Joe. Pa is relying on us getting that money to him. I can’t do it. You and Hoss can, so …”
“Hoss can. He can go by himself, can’t he?” Joe grabbed at Adam’s shirt front, nearly toppling them both back onto the bed as a result. “I’ll get myself elected sheriff, and no – that won’t work, it’ll take too much time. I know, I’ll go and get sworn in as a deputy.”
“And then what will you do?” Adam extricated himself from his brother’s grip and shook his head. “Joe, don’t get involved in something that is of no concern of ours. If Mrs. Sadler had a problem with this, then all she had to do was contact the authorities and get a U.S. Marshall here.”
“She can’t though, can she?” Joe looked at his brother and shrugged, “You just don’t care, do you?”
“It’s not a matter of caring, Joe. There’s just nothing we can do about it, that’s all.”
“There has to be something,” Joe protested.
“Sometimes there isn’t,” Adam replied. “Get my gunbelt, will you? And my hat.”
Joe did as he was requested and plonked the hat unceremoniously on Adam’s head. The gunbelt he twisted round and held in his hand, then he took Adam by the elbow and was surprised when his brother shook him off.
“I’m not an invalid, Joe.”
“Sure, sure.” Joe tutted, and followed his brother to the door, which he opened. Veronica was in the hallway, about to enter as they opened the door. She opened her mouth to speak, forgot what she was about to say, and stepped back to allow them room to enter the hall and get to the front door. Hoss was already there, tapping his fingers on the door frame.
“You could stay.” Veronica suddenly blurted out. “Your injuries need attention and the room is quite private.”
Adam turned to her and gave her one of his most charming smiles. His eyes went smoky brown and he half lowered his eye-lids. “Ma’am, it wouldn’t be right and I don’t want to put you in a compromising situation with your townsfolk. It’s not as though I can’t walk. I’ll be quite comfortable at the hotel room.”
She nodded thoughtfully, her hands clasped together at her waist. Adam bowed his head, stared for a second at the ground and then looked back at her, the smile still on his lips. “I just really appreciate all your help, Ma’am. If there is anything I can do to help you in return, well, you know where you can find me.”
Joe raised his eyebrows and flashed Hoss a grin. Hoss raised his hat to the lady and together the three brothers walked across the main road towards the hotel. Halfway there, Adam paused in mid-stride and placed a hand on Joe’s chest. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to get myself appointed sheriff, d’you hear?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Adam.” Joe said guilelessly, his hazel eyes wide with feigned surprise, “All I heard you say was – well – just an offer to help her if she needed it. That was all.”
“Exactly, that was all,” Adam said in a deep clipped voice. “I just didn’t want you boys thinking the wrong thing and assuming too much.”
“I don’t ever assume nuthin,’” Hoss said with his face turned towards the hotel as though his only anxiety at the moment was to get his brother safely into his hotel room.
“Well, that’s alright then.” Adam nodded, as though to himself, and continued to make his way to the hotel.
**************
Joe was not happy. He had been far from happy the moment he had left Adam at full stretch on the bed looking quite content with his lot in life. It irked Joe to think of Adam just hanging around in that hotel room while he and Hoss had to ride all the way into Virginia City just to deliver a saddlebag full of money. Adam hadn’t even bothered to walk down to the hotel office and watch as the manager had taken the saddlebags from the night safe and accepted their receipt for the contents. Adam had just raised a hand and waved from his prone position on the bed and looked – smug.
Yes, smug was the word for it. Joe furrowed his brow and tightened his lips together.
Hoss looked over at him and frowned. “Joe, you worrying about something? Adam will be alright, you know. Once his hand is working right, he’ll just come right on home.”
“I ain’t worried about Adam. It’s that Mrs. Sadler, and the guy that keeps pestering her. That Duke’s a troublemaker and he killed Doctor Sadler.”
“Wal, we ain’t got no proof of that now, have we, little brother?” Hoss said in his most placating manner.
“No, I guess not. But the sheriff must have had some proof or he wouldn’t have bothered to arrest Duke in the first place. There must have been some evidence to connect Duke to the crime. Fancy killing your own brother in cold blood.”
“Don’t know if he did, in cold blood, I mean.” Hoss sighed, and kept his eyes straight ahead on the road.
Joe glanced up at the sky and then over at his brother. “Let’s make camp now. I could do with a drink and something to eat.”
“Fine by me.” Hoss slowed Chubb down and dismounted, tethering the horse to a shrub nearby where there was good grazing.
“Best not stay too long.”
“Sure.” Hoss stretched the kinks out of his back and looked around for dry sticks to gather for the fire, “We’ve made good time so far, Joe. We’ve only a few more hours and we’ll be home.”
“Yeah, that’s good.” Joe squatted by the makeshift fire and struck a match. It took no time at all for the kindling to catch and the small flame soon became strong enough to take on the coffee pot.
“I’ll go get some water,” Hoss said. “May be a fish as well, huh?”
“No time for fishin’,” Joe muttered.
Hoss rolled his eyes to heaven and shook his head. When Joe got a bee in his bonnet, so to speak, it took all the fun out of being with him. Almost, but not quite as bad as Adam. He navigated the bushes and shrubs to the river’s edge and squatted down to collect the water into the pot.
Then he saw something that made him drop the pot into the river.
*************
“Hey, Joe?”
“What? Hurry up with that wood, will ya.”
“Come and see what I got.”
“For Pete’s sake, Hoss, I told you not to go fishing, didn’t I? We ain’t got no time for fooling around.”
“I ain’t foolin’ around,” Hoss declared as he emerged from the shrub with what appeared to be a thigh bone in his hand. “I found this, and lots more besides.”
For a second Joe did not move but just stared at his brother and the bone. Then he grimaced and shook his head. “Why can’t you just go down and get some water for our coffee instead of foraging around.”
Grumbling to himself, yet at the same time excited at the sudden find, Joe followed Hoss down to where the remains were mainly to be found. Both brothers squatted onto their haunches and stared at the decomposing corpse. Hollow- eyed, the corpse stared back.
“How’d you think he got there? Pushed or rolled?” Joe asked, noticing various aspects of the body that would eventually haunt him in his dreams for the next few nights.
“Or buried?” Hoss said, and he pointed to how the body must have lain partially covered by uprooted, and now long dead, shrubs and bushes. “Guess it was a pretty hasty burial and the wild animals got to him over time. Who do you think it could be?”
Joe threw his brother an exasperated look, and shook his head. “How’d I know? He hardly looks like anyone I know now, does he?”
Joe leaned forwards and very gently pulled aside the leather vest the body was wearing. It was still in reasonable condition, better than the other garments that were rotting away.
Hoss was being more adventurous in that he had detached the skull and was looking at it carefully. “Got most of his teeth,” he observed, “and they weren’t too worn down either, so he weren’t an old feller, so worn out he just kinda dropped dead.”
“That isn’t funny, Hoss.”
“Wal, I guess not. Skull’s all bashed in at the back here.”
“Maybe he fell off his horse,” Joe observed, pulling out a mildewed wallet from the rotting garment in his hand.
“Maybe so, with the help of this…” and Hoss pointed to a round hole at the temple of the skull which still had quite an abundance of dark hair and leathery skin adhering to the bone.
“A bullet hole?”
They looked at the skull and then at each other, and nodded. No doubt about it, the dead man had been helped on his way by a bullet. Joe sighed and opened the wallet.
“Well, this is interesting,” he said, as he carefully pulled out some papers. As he opened them and smoothed them out, they proved to be wanted posters. He looked up at Hoss and raised his eyebrows. “I think I know who are dead friend is, Hoss.”
“You do?”
“I reckon this is the missing sheriff.”
“What? He’s a long ways from home, ain’t he?” Hoss wrinkled his nose and surveyed his brother doubtfully.
“Maybe he was on the way to Virginia City to talk to Roy about these.” Joe tapped the posters which were mildewed and looking as though sections of them were about to fall apart. “Perhaps he felt he needed some support help.”
“Why not go to Genoa?”
“Same reason we didn’t; it’s further away. Let’s look around and see if we can find anything else.”
After ten minutes they found various sections of bone, some well chewed by a wild animal, but the find that excited Joe the most was a tarnished star, cast by some hasty hand and snagged as a result in the reeds by the river’s edge.
“That proves it,” Joe said quietly. “This is Sheriff Henderson and it doesn’t take two guesses to know who did this.”
“We’d best get to Virginia City, Joe, and tell Roy about this.”
“Virginia City?” Joe protested. “Are you joking? We need to get back and tell Adam about this and get the matter sorted out.”
Hoss grabbed his impatient brother by the arm and swung him round to face him. He shook his head and fixed his blue gaze upon his unwilling brother’s face
“Listen to me, Joe. That poor dead man has lain there for months now, and it don’t matter none to him if he stays there jest a while longer. Now, we got a job to do for Pa and we’ll get to do that, and then go to Roy with what we have to tell him. It may be that he may know jest who them posters are all about and what’s going on around here. Maybe he’ll know enough to help us so that we can get back and help out Miss Veronica.”
Joe paused to think about his brother’s suggestion before giving him a brief nod in agreement. He slapped him on the arm and together they hurried to their horses, the badge, the poster and the wallet going into the saddlebags with the money for Ben. All thoughts of coffee gone from their minds they put heels to their horse’s flanks and urged them onwards.
***********
The hotel room had far less appeal than the little room in the Sadler’s house. Adam Cartwright was beginning to think that he had made a poor choice when there came a faint tap on the door. When he opened it to see Veronica Sadler standing there, he greeted her with a smile that, whether he knew it or not, sent her heart racing. “I thought the undertaker was going to take care of my future needs,” he smiled, and stepped aside to admit her into the room.
“Macy’s busy just now and I thought the effect of the laudanum would be wearing off by now,” she replied.
“So, this is not a social visit?” he asked, putting a pained expression on his face, while his eyes twinkled at her in a way that made her think of romantic rides in the moonlight.
“It could be, I suppose,” she laughed.
“That’s better. I was beginning to wonder if you ever laughed.” Adam indicated a chair by the window and into this she sat down. “Have I thanked you enough for helping me last night?”
“I believe so, several times over.”
“The man who caused this problem – from what I gather from my brothers, he’s probably responsible for your husband’s death. Is that right?” He perched himself on the side of the bed and looked thoughtfully into her face.
The green eyes filled immediately with tears and for some seconds, her lips trembled as though some inner turmoil was struggling to overpower her emotions. She bowed her head. “I’m sorry. As soon as I think I can control my feelings about what happened, they just tumble right out. I can talk about it sometimes so easily and then, at other times, it just hurts so much. I still find it hard to believe that Andrew isn’t coming home again.”
“You must have loved him very much,” Adam replied softly.
“Yes. I did. We were friends as well as marriage partners. I can’t explain it very well, but …” She paused and looked down at her hands. “Have you ever loved someone and lost them, Mr. Cartwright?”
Adam thought back over the years and pondered over those he had loved, and lost. He sighed. “I guess it can be one of those crueler aspects of life, Mrs. Sadler,” he said quietly. “My father, for instance, has married three times. He has suffered their loss and I’ve – I’ve seen his suffering and known what a terribly lonely place you must be feeling you are in just now.”
“It’s been a while now; I should be over it, I suppose.”
“It’s different for everyone. Grief, I mean … we all have different ways of coping with it.”
Adam watched her for a few moments. She was an attractive woman and obviously dedicated to her work. He also felt that she was a woman needing care and protection, and instinctively he reached out with his good hand and took hold of one of hers. He held it lightly and watched her face before speaking again. “This man, Duke Crossley,” he said quietly. “Joe said he was arrested by the sheriff, who assured you that he would be put on trial and if found guilty, hanged.”
“Yes, but then the sheriff disappeared. No one’s seen him for months.”
“Did the sheriff have proof, good solid proof, that Crossley was guilty?”
“He was sure enough to arrest him. Surely that must mean something tangible was there. He must have known something to have been so sure that he could put Duke on trial.”
“Then the sheriff went fishing and never came back.”
“That’s right. Crossley came out of jail and…” she sighed, “and no one’s even bothered to appoint a new sheriff since.”
“Has anyone tried?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t be told, Mr. Cartwright; I’m only a woman and have little say in such matters.”
Adam nodded and released her hand in order to stand up. He walked over to the window and looked down at the town. People were walking up and down, in couples, as families, single folk and children, all going about their daily business without an apparent care in the world. Yet, most of them had problems of one kind or another. He sighed and watched as two men rode down the main street. He narrowed his eyes and watched as they dismounted outside the saloon.
“Were there any witnesses to your husband’s murder?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t think so. I’m sure that if Jeanie had seen anything, she would have said so.”
“And who is Jeanie?” He glanced over at her and just for a moment, the sight of her was so sweet that it touched his heart and he wanted to kneel at her side, take hold of her hand and swear that he would find her husband’s murderer for her. Just so that she would smile again, and be happy. He turned back to the window. She loved him, her dead husband, so how could she ever be happy again?
“She’s Duke and Paul Crossley’s sister. Andrew went to help Paul; I think he had been in an accident of some kind. The sheriff said that Duke shot Andrew in a drunken rage because Paul had died despite the help Andrew gave him. Duke can get very violent when he’s drunk.”
“Yeah, I believe you,” Adam murmured, watching as the two men walked into the saloon. One of them, a big man, stopped at the door and glanced up and down the road before disappearing into the saloon’s gloomy environs.
“Do you think Jeanie would have seen anything at all?” Adam asked.
“I don’t think so. As I said, I’m sure that she would have said something.”
“Even against her own brother?”
She paused and sighed. Then she shook her head and admitted that she really wouldn’t know. Jeanie Crossley was just a little slow at times. Often things would happen around her and she would not be able to make any sense of them. Significant things to other people seemed to pass her by.
“Mr. Cartwright, I think I should check your arm now. You may need more attention than you think.”
Adam said nothing to that but returned to the bed and sat down. As she untied the sling and then took hold of his hand, he looked up into her face, and realized that she was one of the most attractive women he had seen in a very long time. A long curl of hair had loosened from her chignon, and fell across her cheek. Very gently, he raised his hand and took hold of it and carefully trailed it behind her ear. She looked up as his hand brushed her cheek. Her heart did a somersault and she stepped back.
“I – I’m sorry,” she muttered, realizing that the movement may have caused him some pain, for she had hold of his injured hand at the time. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” he sighed, “I can’t feel a thing.”
“Could you try and clench your fingers. Make a fist …” she suggested and watched as he struggled to do so. She placed her hand within his, and looked up into his face. “Hold my hand now.”
Adam bit down onto his bottom lip. There was nothing he would have liked to have done more, but try as he might, his fingers could not, would not, curl around hers. “Will I get feeling back at all or do you think there’s some more permanent damage?” he asked her eventually.
“I’d hate to think there was more permanent damage, Mr. Cartwright. It is possible but I’m sure that had there been, then it would have been much more obvious by now and I would have been able to have seen it, and told you.”
Adam sighed. It occurred to him that should the need arise that he had to protect her from the likes of Duke Crossley and his friends it was going to be very difficult to do. He glanced over at his gunbelt and the gun in its holster. Without the use of his gun hand, they were totally impotent.
“Mr. Cartwright…”
“Please, call me Adam,” he interrupted.
“Adam...”
“And you’re Veronica, I believe?” He smiled at her and his eyes twinkled mischievously at her answering smile.
“My friends call me Veroon.”
“Veroon?” His smile broadened, “That’s very pretty.”
She released her breath as though having not realized that she had held it for so long. Brown eyes, long lashes and such a handsome face. “Now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say,” she said quietly.
Adam put on a contrite face and looked serious. He stood up and walked to the window. There was nothing happening outside and a quick glance over at the saloon indicated that all was quiet. He turned back to her. “Tell me about when the sheriff disappeared. Did anyone go searching for him? Had Crossley been released officially or had there been a break in?”
She frowned thoughtfully, and then shook her head. “I went to see the sheriff the day after Crossley’s arrest. The office was locked up and there was a notice on the door saying he had gone fishing. I went to see Macy, the undertaker, and he told me that the sheriff had ridden out of town early that morning. Crossley was still behind bars in the custody of the deputy at the time. Within an hour, however, Crossley was free and the deputy had resigned. The Mayor had locked up the office.”
Adam said nothing. He looked thoughtfully at her and then sighed. “It seems as though the deputy was more in favor of Crossley than in upholding the law.”
“Yes. Crossley has a lot of influence in town. Ten witnesses to stand up and declare he was in the saloon when my husband was killed for a start.” She glanced at the clock that was hanging on the wall, and smiled up at him. “I must go; I have other calls to make.”
“Why not send for another doctor. You could do with one here, should you ever decide to leave.”
“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows and blushed a little, then lowered her eyelids, “Well, I do sometimes wish I could leave, but until I find out who killed Andrew, I don’t feel free to do so.”
“You still love your husband?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Andrew was a special person. I love him very much.”
Adam nodded as though he understood entirely, but it seemed as though she were telling him that the door was not yet open for a new relationship. For some reason, he felt rather downcast at the thought.
“Did your father stop loving your mother when he re-married?” she asked as she picked up her purse and stood up to leave. She turned at the door and smiled at him, “I don’t think he would have done so, do you?”
“No. My mother was his first wife. He never stopped loving her, nor Inger …nor Marie.” he replied very softly, and he sighed, remembering the sorrows, the heart aches, the long nights talking for hours with his Pa about love, and about Elizabeth, Inger and Marie.
“I suppose it is all part of moving on in life, isn’t it? Suddenly you realize that because the person you love has died, your heart is still alive, you still love them, but…” She stopped, her green eyes were very green and very intense as she looked at him, then turned away. “I must go, now, Mr. – I mean – Adam.”
“Would you mind if I escorted you home? Or to your next port of call?” He smiled at her, his brown eyes dancing with the pleasure of being in her company and when she nodded he picked up his hat and followed her from the hotel room.
**********
Duke Crossley tossed back the whiskey and scowled at the empty glass before flinging it down onto the counter. When he beckoned for a refill, the bartender shook his head. “Duke, it’s only mid-day. You’ve had too much already and I’ve my living to think about.”
“I said give me another, you scum, or you won’t be alive to worry about living no more…” He grabbed the man by the chest and shook him. “D’you hear?”
“I think Bailey’s right, Duke. You have had too much,” Macy, the undertaker, advised. He stood up and put a hand on Duke’s arm. “You need to keep a steady head, my friend. If you want to win a certain lady over to your side, you’re not really going the right way about it.”
“What do you know?” Duke snarled and brushed the man’s hand from his arm. For some seconds he sat, hunched over, before getting to his feet. He looked at them all as they all looked up at him, waiting. He shook his head. What did they know? Fools all of them. Thought he was drunk, did they? Thought he had no control over himself? He had never felt so strong, so confident. He took a deep breath and walked to the door of the saloon. He pushed it open and stood in the heat of the mid-day sun.
There were not so many people in town at that time of day. The streets, therefore, were more or less devoid of people. He noticed two, however, as they walked companionably across the road. He narrowed his eyes. Surely he was seeing things?
The woman was laughing at something her companion had said, and looking up at him in a manner in which she had never looked up at Duke. Looking as happy as she did, Duke realized once again how lovely she was, and how much he desired her.
He strode forward. In his mind he was striding down the street like a gladiator, springing on his heel, light as a feather. In reality he was lumbering down the street like a half crazed bull. Macy and Jefferson were close behind him, unsure of what he was going to do at the sight of Veronica and her young companion.
“YOU!”
The bellowed summons echoed down the street. Those few who were present froze on the spot. Adam and Veronica, half way across the road, stopped and looked back. At the sight of Crossley, Veronica shuddered and the color drained from her face. As he strode towards them, she closed her eyes, summoned all her courage, and turned to face him. “Duke? What’s wrong?”
Adam glanced at her, and then at Duke. He wondered how on earth she had managed to speak in such a light manner when the man was looking like he’d be happy to throttle her. Adam stepped forward, his body now between hers and Duke’s.
“Where are you going?” Duke bellowed, his face purpling with rage.
“To see Mrs. Evans,” she replied quickly.
“With him?” Duke jerked his thumb at Adam, who quietly pulled his jacket aside to let the man see that he wore no sidearm. Duke did not bother to look; he had eyes only for Veronica.
“Mr. Cartwright is one of my patients, thanks to you.”
“So why were you in his hotel room with him?”
“That has nothing to do with you. Or rather it has because I was treating the injuries you gave him. But who I visit and why and where is none of your business, Duke.”
Adam grabbed her elbow and leaned forw