Wounds
Back when The Young Riders was still on-air (late eighties!) I wrote a bunch of stories in script form, mostly about Lou. Never thought to put them on Fan Fiction until I recently went browsing through FanFic & found the Young Riders thread. So here's the first one, written as a protest on all the characters getting shot and being instantly healed by the next episode. I wrote all of the stories during the summer break after the end of season one, so no Noah or Jesse James or any of the other changes to the storyline. Did some minor revising when Emma was replaced by Rachel and Teaspoon discovered Lou's gender, but the series eventually went off to where my stories didn't fit the aired storylines. Anyway, here is the first story. It's complete, but was originally written in script format. It may take me some time to change all of the stories into narrative form. Reviews provide motivation, so read & review if you want more.
It was not ideal weather for running the mail. The night was dark, and the fact that it had been raining all day and was still raining meant that her horse's footing would be tricky in the slippery mud. The only good part about this run was that it looked like she would at least get a hot meal before starting out. The patter of rain was annoying in its reminder of what she was in for, but the clunk of the last platter of food on the rough-hewn bunkhouse table was welcoming.
"Jimmy, it's your turn to say grace," Rachel said, looking at him.
Lou glanced at Jimmy and caught the wicked glint in his eye. "Good bread, good meat, good God, let's eat!" the irreverent rider said.
Buck stifled a laugh as Rachel shared her glare between the two riders. Then Rachel's expression softened, and she looked at Lou. "Lou, why don't you say the blessing?"
Lou obediently bent her head and murmured, "Dear Lord, thank you for the bounty we are about to receive. Amen."
It satisfied Rachel, and the older woman gave the nod that began the noisy grabbing of plates and banging of utensils and uninteresting conversations that drowned out the sound of the rain hitting the bunkhouse roof. Everyone was there except Kid, who was running the mail back and was expected back in a couple of hours. When he arrived, Lou would head out. But for now, her mind was on food. She filled her plate and began filling her mouth with the same decorum that the other riders used, which was to say, none.
Between bites, Teaspoon looked out at his riders and said, "You boys hear about Jack Keetley?"
"No, what?" Noah asked.
Teaspoon stuck a forkful of beans in his mouth and talked without emptying his mouth first. "He set the record for the longest distance traveled on relay. Rode Three hun'erd an' forty miles without stoppin'. Did it on a bet."
Cody wasn't impressed. "Bob Haslam rode three hundred and eighty miles on one trip."
"Yeah, but that was with two rests," Buck pointed out.
Teaspoon swiped the last biscuit from the platter and shoved it into his mouth, still managing to talk around it. "The way I heard it, Keetley fell asleep in the saddle.
Cody's mouth quirked. "Far as I'm concerned, Pony Bob's record still stands. But only until I break it."
Jimmy's rivalry with Cody couldn't let that remark stand. "You? Hell, you barely finish your runs now."
Ike picked up the empty biscuit plate and gestured towards it while looking at Rachel. No one needed a translator to know that he was asking if there were any more biscuits. Rachel took the plate and went to the cookstove. As she stood up, a motion outside the window caught her attention, and she peered through the wet gloom. "Rider comin'," she announced.
Lou stood up and wiped her mouth. So much for the hot meal.
Teaspoon motioned for her to sit down again. "Finish yer supper, Lou. It ain't no use yer goin' out on a night like this on an empty stomach."
Gratefully, Lou sat down again and hastily started shoveling beans into her mouth. She was barely aware of the chatter of the riders, concentrating mainly on filling her belly with something hot before she went out into the wet, miserable dark. But the opening of the bunkhouse door caught her attention, and she shared a quick glance with Kid before nabbing a couple of biscuits to stuff into her kit.
Kid took off his gear and hung it on his hook. He glanced again at Lou, then looked at Teaspoon. "They're having a dance down in Blue Creek on the twelfth."
Teaspoon looked up at the riders. "You boys—" he glanced at Lou and Rachel to include them as well, "—an' girls—kin go, if ya want to. Whoever ain't scheduled for relay, that is."
Lou pushed her plate away and stood up. "Ah'm done. Ah'll see all o' ya when ah git back."
As always, Kid found her soft Midwestern accent intriguing.
Rachel had sliced a generous portion of the apple cake she had made for dessert and had wrapped it in a napkin. She handed it to Lou. "Here, you can eat this on the way."
Lou stuffed the packet into her coat pocket. "Thanks, Rachel."
Kid put back on the coat he had just taken off. He hadn't realized Lou was the next one up when he came into the bunkhouse. "I'll see you off. I ain't washed up for supper yet, anyway."
Lou tightened the cinch on her horse Lightning's girth while Kid watched.
"Be careful, Lou. I saw some Paiutes between Joshua's station and Hooper's Creek my last time out that way."
She spared him a wry smile. "Ahm always careful."
"It's rainin' mighty hard," Kid said, pointing out the obvious.
"Ah'd rather face the pourin' down rain than them Injuns, an they got more sense than t' set an ambush in weather like this."
"You gonna go to the dance in Blue Creek?"
Lou didn't see any sense in lying. "No."
"Why not?"
"Ah just ain't." She took the mail pouch from him and mounted up.
"Why not?" Kid pressed. "No one will recognize you in Blue Creek. Besides, who am I gonna dance with, if you don't go?"
"Well, then, it don't make any difference whether ah go, do it? Seein' as how ah cain't dance anyway."
She gave him the wry smile again and started for the barn door, but Kid caught her bridle. "You danced with me that one time in town."
"There wasn't nobody watchin' then, either," she reminded him.
"If you were interested, I'd be pleased to show you a few steps. There ain't nothin' to it, really."
Lou looked at him with all the intensity she could manage. "Well, ah ain't goin' to the dance, so just forget it." She jerked the bridle free from his hand, pulling her horse's head in the process. She patted Lightning's neck in apology, partly for the pulling of the reins and partly for the miserable run she was about to take him on, then squeezed his flanks with her heels and rode out into the rainy night.
"Ah, Hell," Kid muttered.
He was dressed in an army uniform which had seen better days. The man himself wasn't in any better condition, with a scruffy beard that itched with the same lice that had invaded his scalp. The horse he was leading out of the barn, on the other hand, appeared well cared-for, though was not of the confirmation of the leaner, more athletic Pony Express animals. This was a farm horse, used to the hard labor of pulling a plow or wagon during the day, then taking its well-earned rest at night, and it did not appreciate being saddled and taken from his warm, comfortable stall into the cold wet outside. Nor did it know this scraggly man who was taking it away from its hay and straw. So when it saw its master heading toward the farmhouse carrying an armload of firewood, it nickered.
The sound drew the instant attention of its master, who saw at once that the animal was being stolen, and dropped the firewood to run towards the army deserter. "Hey!" he shouted, drawing his gun.
The deserter already had drawn his gun, prepared for potential discovery, and took a shot at the horse's owner.
But the farmer was not about to let the theft of his horse go unanswered, and shot back, trying to be careful not to hit the horse. The noise made the animal shy, and the army deserter had his hands full with the horse in one hand and trying to shoot its owner with the other hand.
But just then the door to the house opened and the farmer's wife started to go outside. "John, what is it?"
"Amy! Get back inside!" the farmer shouted, his attention divided between trying to keep his family safe, and trying to keep his horse safe.
Somehow the deserter had mounted the horse, and the farmer tried to rush at him and grab the reins. The deserter shot at the farmer again, missing, but the horse panicked and side-stepped, forcing the farmer to let go. The deserter took advantage of the release to kick the horse to get it moving, and the farmer took aim, careful to sight his gun on the rider and not the horse. But the deserter took one last shot at the farmer, and by sheer luck managed to hit the farmer in the leg. The searing pain caused the farmer's finger to squeeze as his hand dropped the gun, and the horse whinnied in a way that the farmer had never heard before.
The farmer's wife, Amy, screamed, "No!" and ran to her husband. She picked up the gun and fired a few ineffectual shots at the deserter, emptying the chamber, then abandoned the gun to tend to her husband. A boy, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, came out of the house and tried to make out what was going on in the darkness. "Ma?" he said. Then he saw his father on the ground with her, groaning. "Pa!"
The farmer's wife had been hardened by the scrabble life on the prairie. She knew she had to stay calm and think what to do. "Josiah!" she said, addressing the boy. "Take the other horse! Ride to town and fetch the doctor!"
"Pa…" the boy began uncertainly.
The farmer gritted his teeth. "Get the Marshal, Son. Tel 'im…army deserter stole the horse. Tell 'im…I missed the deserter, but I think the horse was hit."
"Go!" Amy admonished him. "Tell the doctor to hurry!"
"But Pa…"
"Hurry, Josiah!" Amy ordered her son, then turned her attention back to her husband.
Josiah ran for the barn. He could ride bareback, which was a good thing since their only saddle had been stolen. He grabbed the small mare's bridle which hung on a hook next to its stall, shoved the bit the horse's mouth, and threw himself up onto the animal's back, then rode out into the rain, shivering because he hadn't even had time to grab his coat.
Rachel carried the plates she had just cleared from the table to the washpan. Habit caused her to search through the window for any signs of motion, whether or not she was expecting anyone to arrive at the station, but when she saw the shadows move, it surprised her. "Rider comin'," she said.
Cody looked up from retrieving the deck of cards he kept under his mattress, in preparation of whiling away the hours until it was time to sleep. "At this hour? In this weather?"
"That can mean only one thing," Teaspoon said.
"Trouble!" Buck finished.
They all headed for the door. Teaspoon opened it with the riders right behind him as the young figure riding bareback approached the bunkhouse. "That's Josiah Horton," Teaspoon said, puzzled.
Josiah rode up, breathless from the exertion and soaked to the skin, with teeth chattering. "Marshall! Mr. Hunter!"
"What is it, Josiah?" Teaspoon asked. "An' where's yer Pa?"
"Pa's been shot—" Josiah gasped. "Ma said—fetch you an' the doctor—army deserter was tryin' to steal our other horse—Pa said—missed the deserter but thinks the horse was shot—said the deserter's probably still in the area—"
"Ya done good, Josiah. Rachel, get him mah old coat. Now here's wot ah want ya to do. Ride into town an' tell the doctor to get his stuff together an' meet me at mah office. We'll get a posse together an' ride back out to yer place."
Josiah nodded and gratefully accepted the worn coat Rachel handed to him, shrugged into its oversized sleeves, and fastened the top button before turning the reluctant mare to the road leading towards the town. Teaspoon watched him leave and turned to see all his riders heading towards the barn.
"Where do you think yer goin'?" Teaspoon demanded, bringing them to a halt.
"Lou's headin' right past the Horton place," Kid replied.
"Ya can't all go," Teaspoon said. "Ya got responsibilities here. Ah can't spare more 'n three of ya." He looked them over quickly. "Buck, Ike, an' Noah."
The three designated riders headed to the barn to tack their mounts.
Kid protested. "Teaspoon—"
But his boss remained firm. "You just got back from relay. Yer in no shape to go trapsin' through the countryside for who knows how long."
"But Lou—"
"You ain't gonna do her no good. Yer of more use here protectin' the station. "Sides, she'll prob'ly ride right past the Horton place an' not even know anything's wrong."
Lou heard something that didn't sound like it belonged to the rain or the night. She pulled her horse up to listen, and a pitiful voice competed against the battering of the rain against her hat. "Help me…" the voice pleaded. "Somebody help me…"
Lou located the direction of the sound and nudged her horse towards it. She saw a figure huddled on the ground, wrapped in a blanket.
"Help me…" the pathetic figure said again.
"What is it?" Lou asked. "Are you all right?"
The deserter threw off his blanket and pointed his gun at Lou. "I will be, once you hand over that horse. Now, get off. Nice an' easy, boy."
Lou hesitated, but only for the split second it took her to make up her mind whether to go for her gun or make a run for it. It was an easy decision. She'd always been a much better rider than a shooter. She squeezed Lightning hard, and the horse responded by springing into the darkness, back the way she had come. The deserter shot at her, missing the first two times, then getting her in the back of the shoulder on the third try. Lou cried out and clutched her shoulder, but kept her balance. Luckily, Lightning was so familiar with the trail that he knew where to go even though her riding signals had lost the elegance he was used to.
As she galloped back towards the station, the slippery mud caused Lightning to stumble slightly, and the pain in Lou's shoulder distracted her so much that she almost lost her balance. Feeling that his rider was less steady than she usually was, Lightning slowed his gait to a trot, and the bouncing caused Lou to cry out in agony and nearly fall off. Lightning compensated for her loss of balance by moving under her weight, and slowed to a walk. Lou hoped she was far enough from her ambusher that he wouldn't be able to follow. The reins slipped out of the fingers of the arm whose shoulder had been shot, and with her other fingers, she felt the warmth of the blood seeping through the underside her oil-slicked coat. Thank God it had been her and not the horse. "Home, boy," she whispered to Lightning. "Take me home…"
Jimmy was sighting down his rifle at an imaginary target as Cody looked out the window. Kid was pacing back and forth anxiously. The bunkhouse was dark, all the lamps having been extinguished to make it easier to see out into the night, and harder to see into the bunkhouse. Rachel was in the station house, which was equally dim but structurally more sound, keeping her own watch.
"If that deserter comes here, he'll be after supplies an' horses," Cody reasoned.
Jimmy tilted his head and spun the chamber of his revolver, actually looking forward to the prospect. "We'll be ready for 'im if he comes." He looked up and indicated the door. "Cody, let's you an' me stake out the barn. Kid can keep an eye on things here."
Kid nodded assent. He had good angles on anything approaching the house or the barn from the road, and watching the road would give him something to do besides worrying about Lou.
His fellow riders left, and Kid latched the door behind them. The latch wouldn't really stop anyone, just slow 'em down for a couple seconds, but no sense being caught by surprise. Then he pulled a chair over by the window and settled in for a long watch. He hated that Lou was out there. He'd stop her from riding if he could, but even just staying at the station carried its risks. Out here, there were Indians, and Road Agents, and army deserters, any of which would attack a farm or homestead as readily as a lone rider, not to mention such natural hazards as rattlesnakes, blizzards, rising rivers, diseases, and whatever else the West had to offer. The natural hazards he didn't mind so much. You prepared for them as best you could, and he could shrug off the rest as being God's will. But the cruelties of man to his fellow man—or woman, in the case of Lou—those were things he couldn't understand. He wasn't so sure God had any control over that, either. It wasn't God's will for people to hurt each other. That was the will of the individual doing the hurting. Kid just hoped and prayed that he and those he loved would survive.
Those he loved.
Like Lou.
Lou slumped in her saddle. She was so familiar with this stretch that she could sense rather than see the station in the distance, the black silhouettes of the station house, bunk house, barn, and holding pens against the ever so slightly less black background. Strength of will had carried her this far, but now that she had so nearly arrived, that will seemed to have left her. She fell sideways out of the saddle, the jolt of landing on the ground unleashing another cry of agony.
Then with all the volume she could muster, she weakly called out, "Kid—" But she knew that she was too far away for anyone to hear her, especially over the rain. Lightning stayed with her, not leaving her even to go back to his home in the barn.
Lou tried to get up again, but it was useless. Every ounce of her strength was gone. She needed help, but now the help had to come to her. With her good arm, she reached for her gun, drew it out of the holster, thumbed the hammer back, and…
In the barn, Cody and Jimmy heard the shot.
"What was 'at?" Cody asked, grabbing his rifle and heading for the door.
"Gunshot," Jimmy replied, beating him to the door. Jimmy exited and pointed his weapon towards the figure he saw coming from the direction of the bunkhouse, then shifted his aim as he saw who it was. "It's me!" Kid said, unnecessarily.
There was a second shot, and the riders quickly formed an outward-facing triangle of sorts, trying to locate the sound and figure out why they were hearing it.
"Where'd it come from? Kid asked.
"Where's Rachel?" Cody wanted to know.
Rachel came running from the direction of the house, carrying a rifle. "Right here!"
"What the Hell's goin' on?" Jimmy asked.
Lou could see them, recognized which one was Kid, but she was still too far away for them to hear her weak cries for help. She thumbed back the hammer for the third time and angled the barrel of her pistol towards the sky.
With the third shot, Kid was able to locate the direction of the sound. He squinted and could make out the form of a horse in the darkness, a horse whose shape he recognized. "There!" he said, taking off at a run.
"Kid, be careful!" Rachel called.
Jimmy finally saw what Kid had seen. "That's Lou's horse!" he said, holstering his gun and taking off after Kid. Cody and Rachel followed him.
The gun slipped from Lou's fingers, and she collapsed back into the mud. She had done it. She saw Kid running towards her, and knew that he would take her the rest of the way home. If she died now, at least it wouldn't be alone.
Kid slid to a stop in the mud and collected her in his arms. "Lou!"
She grimaced at the movement but tried to cover the grimace by smiling weakly. "Hi, Kid."
He started to pick her up, then looked at his hand from where he had touched her. In the darkness, it looked like nothing, just the same color black as the mud on the ground, but its sticky warmth told him immediately what it was. "Oh, my God."
The others caught up in time to hear him murmur the phrase that could have been an oath or a prayer.
"What is it?" Jimmy asked.
"What happened?" Rachel wanted to know.
Kid looked up at them, the anguish on his face hard to read in the darkness but readily apparent in his voice. "Lou's been shot."