TEN
Isaiah would never forget the sight that greeted him when he broke through the trees ahead of the other men. His mouth dry, his heart poundin', he had shouted, "Here! Over here!, before makin' his way across the scene of violence and death. The blond man Nels had described was layin' face down in the grass, a hole blown clear through him. He bent to check for a pulse in passin'. Finding nothin' Isaiah moved on, torn between checkin' the gray-haired man layin' in the grass and his best friend whose bound form was danglin' motionless from a tree.
His friend won out.
The rain was still fallin' though the storm had passed. Isaiah looked down as he approached and watched as the blood running down Charles' still frame mingled with the mud at his feet. His friend had been beaten for sure. Considerin' all he'd heard about the dead man, that didn't come as a surprise. But the wounds on his face were already closin' and the blood congealed.
The blood in the water was fresh.
Gently, the grizzled man took hold of Charles' face and called him.
"Charles. Charles, can you hear me? It's Isaiah."
For a moment, there was nothing. Then Charles stirred. He moaned and then fell silent again. Isaiah looked back the way he'd come. He wanted to get him off that damned tree, but he couldn't do it without help.
Where were the others?
He tried again. "Charles?"
The brown-haired man groaned again and then winced. "Where's the...train?" he asked.
"That hit ya?" Isaiah sighed with relief. "Gone on to Wisconsin."
"Oh..."
"Charles, I need ya to look at me. You hear me?"
His eyelids fluttered open and he looked up.
"Seems there's somethin' wrong with you I cain't find," the mountain man said. "You know what it is?"
The injured man licked his lips. "Shot...in...side."
"Lord, Charles," Isaiah said, gingerly probin' for the wound. When he found it, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd lifted his friend's bloody shirt to find that the bullet had cut a channel through his flesh, but it hadn't penetrated. Whistling he said, "You sure must hold a place in God's heart, Charles. That was close."
The bound man moved restlessly. He raised his head as if tryin' to look past him. "Joe...?" Charles asked.
He glanced at the silver-haired man where he lay on the ground.
"Ain't checked him yet."
"Let me...be. Check...Joe..."
He hated to do it, but 'til the other men appeared he'd didn't dare chance cuttin' Charles loose and havin' him fall to the ground. Leavin' his friend danglin', he crossed to where the grey-haired man lay face-up in the grass. This was the first time he'd seen Joe Cartwright in the flesh. It was true what the others said.
He and Charles were dead-ringers.
Wincing at his choice of words, Isaiah placed a hand on Joe's chest and felt his heart beat.
"He's alive!" he called even as he heard the sound of men moving off to his right. A second later Lars and Nels broke through the trees. They halted, just as shocked by the scene as he'd been. "What took you so long?" he shouted. "Get over there and cut Charles down from that tree!"
Nels paused beside him. "Cartwright?"
"Livin'. That's about all I can say for now." He looked up. "What'd you, take time to go fishin'?"
He saw Nels glance at Lars. The older man was at Charles' side, talking to him in low tones. "We ran into that young man who traveled with Donavan. I thought it best to take him into custody."
Isaiah nodded. "Sound thinkin' there."
Nels stared at Joe for a heartbeat and then said, "I'll go help Lars."
The mountain man followed him with his gaze and watched as they cut the ropes. Hans had appeared as well, with Doctor Baker followin' close behind. The pair were racing over to where Nels was lowering Charles to the ground. Satisfied that his friend was in good hands, Isaiah turned back to the man lyin' beside him.
"Cartwright," he said gently shakin' him. "Joe Cartwright!"
Joe looked to be in bad shape. He was fevered. His color was gray as day old porridge and the ground was runnin' red under his left leg.
Still, somehow, he managed to open his eyes.
"Charles.." was the first thing he said.
"He's alive." Thanks to you, it looks like, he added in a thought.
"Dave?"
Must be the blond man. "Dead."
Joe moaned. "Didn't want...to...kill him. No...choice."
He glanced at Charles. Doc Baker had his friend's shirt open and was pressing a cloth to the bullet wound. "You saved Charles' life, didn't you?"
"Better man...than...me..."
Isaiah checked his pulse and then rocked back on his heels. Joe was out again. As he sat there, tryin' to figure out just what had happened, Doc Baker dropped to the ground beside him and placed two fingers against Joe Cartwright's throat.
He looked over to where Nels and Lars were still bendin' over his friend.
"How's Charles?" Isaiah asked.
The Doc's jaw was tight. He was working his way through Cartwright's hair, checking to see what had matted it with blood.
"Holding his own for the moment." The blond man glanced at him. "I won't lie, Isaiah. It's touch and go for both these men. Both are exhausted and soaked through. Even if the wounds aren't all that bad, it's infectivity I'm worried about." The doctor switched from Joe's head to his leg. "I sent Hans for that wagon we saw a ways back. We need to get them to Charles' place as quickly as we can."
Isaiah frowned. "You think one of us should ride back first – maybe let Caroline know what to expect?"
The blond man glanced in Charles' direction and then down at Joe.
"I think, Isaiah, that would be very wise."
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Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a rap at the door. Caroline turned to her friend Grace, who was feeding Carrie.
"You go," Grace said softly. "I'll keep things here."
She'd sent Mary and Laura out to do their evening chores an hour or so back and told them to take Jack. She had no idea where they were. If they were in the yard and the news was bad...
"Caroline?" Grace was watching her closely. "Are you all right?"
No, she wasn't, but she also wasn't going to admit it.
"I'll see who it is," she said with a tight smile.
The blonde woman opened the door to find Isaiah on the stoop. He had his hat in his hands and his fingers were ringing it like they always did when he was anxious or unsure of himself.
He grimaced and then said, "Caroline."
"Do you have news?"
The mountain man nodded, but instead of telling her what it was, he asked, "Where's the girls?"
Caroline's heart was beating fast. "Carrie's inside with Grace. Mary and Laura are doing chores. Why?" What aren't you telling me? she thought. "Has something happened to Charles?"
"He's hurt, Caroline. Hurt pretty bad," the grizzled man admitted. "The Doc will be bringin' him and that Cartwright feller here shortly. We thought..." He paused. "Well, we thought maybe you'd want some time to prepare – you know, what with two sick men needin' tended."
And the girls to consider.
"Thank you, Isaiah. Do you need to go back right away, or can you – "
"I'm here for good," he answered. "Tell me what you need me to do."
She thought a moment. Poor Carrie. Back to the loft for her! "We'll put Joe in Carrie's bedroom. We can make a pallet on the floor. Charles can rest in our room."
No matter what, she wanted him there. It had been so long.
Isaiah returned his hat to his head. "Yes, ma'am," he said and then moved past her into the house to begin.
As Caroline turned away from the door, she heard the sound of running footsteps. She looked out toward the road and saw Mary and Laura flying down the path to the house.
They must have seen Isaiah arrive.
A minute later they skidded to a halt before her, breathing hard, their eyes wide with the question that had been plaguing them all.
"They found your pa," she said, stepping off the stoop and going to stand by them. "And Joe."
"Are they here, Ma?" Laura asked, breathless.
"Not yet. Isaiah's here. He said they'll be arriving anytime soon."
"Is Pa okay?" Mary asked, seeming to sense there was more she wasn't telling them. Her oldest knew her too well.
Caroline drew a breath. "No. He's hurt. So it Joe."
She saw it hit them. This wasn't over.
Laura swallowed hard. "How bad, Ma? How bad is Pa?"
She remembered the look in Isaiah's eyes. "I don't know, but I think it's bad."
"Is he gonna live?" Mary asked, her voice small and pitiful.
Caroline touched the top of each of their heads. "We'll do everything we can, for your Pa and Joe, but you know in the end its in the Lord's hands not ours."
She heard a sound and turned around to find Carrie toddling out the door. Grace was close behind her. The other woman's gaze went to the girls. "Isaiah suggested I take the girls to our house," she said quietly.
"Ma, no!" they both protested.
"You're going to need us," Mary said.
"Remember, Joe's hurt too," Laura added.
It was true.
"We can send the girls on and I can stay," Grace suggested.
Caroline closed her eyes. If she sent them away, she would spare them whatever was coming. She could clean their father up and hopefully minimize their trauma. But at the same time, should Charles...die...without them ever seeing him...
With tears in her eyes, she turned to Grace and said softly, "It's their right to stay. But if you'll take Carrie with you, I'd appreciate it." Dropping to her knees she caught the little girl in her arms and asked her, "Would you like to go play with Karl and Alyssa?"
Carrie looked around, confused, and then nodded.
"Come here, sweetheart," Grace said, taking her. "Let's get your coat and hat and then you can go play with them."
Caroline caught her arm. "Thank you, Grace."
The other woman's eyes were moist. "You send word by Isaiah if there's anything else I can do."
She nodded and then turned back to her children. "We need to get things ready. Mary, go get those old petticoats of yours out of the chest, you know, the ones I was saving for Carrie?" As her eldest nodded, she added, "Get the scissors and cut them into strips. Laura, you can help me get the bed ready for your pa. Isaiah's working on a place for Joe."
As they entered the house, her eyes returned to the road.
How long? How long before she would see him again?
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Hiram Baker was sitting in the back of the wagon between the two wounded men. He'd managed to staunch the blood flow from the wound to Charles' side. He was having less luck doing so with Joe Cartwright's leg. It seemed when he fell the silver-haired man tore something open and fresh blood was soaking through the bandages every few minutes. He needed to get him into a clean sterile space where he could sew up the bleeders.
The back of this wagon filled with dirt and decay certainly wasn't it.
So far Charles was without fever. Joe's skin was hot to the touch – too hot. Obviously he should never have left the Ingalls' house to go after Charles. He wasn't healed enough from the bear attack. Of course, if Joe hadn't, he wouldn't be thinking about how to pull Charles through.
He'd be helping to dig him a grave.
"How are they doing?" Lars tossed the question back over his shoulder. He was driving the wagon with the two men in it while the others followed behind with the horses.
"Holding their own," he replied. There really wasn't much more to say. There would be days ahead of fighting down infection for both. While Charles' side had only been creased by the bullet and the wound was relatively free of contamination, the cut on his head was another matter entirely. It was tinged with red and fiery hot. "Can't expect much more right now."
"Ja," Lars said. "But one can always hope."
Hope. It was the one thing he packed in his medical kit that he never ran out of.
Hiram looked up. He recognized the road. They were nearing the bend where the Ingalls' home would come into sight.
He hoped to God Isaiah had Caroline and the girls prepared.
Laura'd finished helping her ma put fresh linens on the bed. She'd gone outside to fetch some water to fill the pitchers in the rooms when she heard the wagon coming. She should have gone to get her ma but fear rooted her to the spot. Pa wasn't sitting in it. Neither was Joe.
They had to be laying in the wagon bed.
Mister Hanson was driving and when he saw her, he pulled the team to a halt. Like she was walking in a dream, Laura started straight for it. When he saw her, Doctor Baker hopped out of the back and met her halfway.
"Where's you ma?" he asked as he took her by the shoulders.
"Inside," she answered woodenly, her eyes on the wagon. "Where's Pa?"
"We've got him, and Joe Cartwright." He knelt and looked her in the eye. "Did your ma let you stay?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded. "I'm sure she can use your help. Now, Laura, I want you to go inside and get your mother."
"But I want to see Pa!" she protested.
"In time." He placed a hand on her cheek. "In good time."
In the end she didn't have to go inside. By the time she'd made it to the door her mother and sister were coming out. Ma wiped her hands on her apron as she stepped off the stoop and came to them. She was looking at the wagon too.
"Charles?"
"Bad off," he admitted, "but not as bad as Cartwright. I got the bleeding stopped."
Her mother paled. "Bleeding?" she squeaked.
Doctor Baker put a hand on Ma's shoulder. "He was shot, but it was just a graze," he added quickly. "The bullet didn't penetrate. It's the cut on his head I'm worried about."
Ma's eyes went to her and then back to the Doc. "What happened?"
The blond man drew in a long breath and let it out with a shake of his head. "That Donavan was a mean one. Seems he hated Joe Cartwright with a passion."
"And he thought Charles was Joe..."
"Charles has been beaten severely, Caroline." He looked at Mary and then at Laura before returning his gaze to her mother. "It's not pretty."
Laura stared at her ma and then at the wagon again. She'd seen a few fights in her time at school. Boys coming in with split lips and black eyes. Ma had told her Pa had been quite a scrapper before they married. She thought about him with a split lip and black eye. It seemed kind of funny, but she knew it wasn't. Anyhow, this sounded like it was a lot worse than that.
Her mother eyed her and then her sister. "You two stay here. That's an order, understand?"
They both nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."
She watched as her mother walked away and saw the doctor give her a hand up into the wagon. She knew Ma probably tried not to, but she made a strangled little sound when she looked down, before falling to her knees and reaching out.
Laura was shivering. She felt hot and cold all at one and the same time. Mary was holding her hand. Her sister didn't say anything but tears were streaming down her face like she knew something she hadn't shared. As they stood there, she saw her ma turn to the other side of the wagon. She reached out again and she saw that ma was holding someone's hand.
She'd just about had it with standing still when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"How ya doin', Half-pint?"
She sniffed. "I don't know Mister Edwards."
Her voice was small too.
He knelt and turned her around to face him. "You know, Half-pint, a person can take an awful lickin' and still come out all right, though you sure cain't tell it by lookin' at this old mug." He pulled a face and winked. "But then I wasn't as pretty as your Pa to begin with. Your Pa's pulled me out of some right bad messes and I'm still standin'."
"Was that when you were drinkin'?" she asked.
He nodded solemnly. "Sure was. Got myself beat from one end to the other. God made man a miracle. He can take a lot of punishment. Takes time to mend, but it happens."
She glanced at Mary who had taken one step closer to the wagon. "Does Pa look real bad?"
"It's gonna scare you. There's a lot of blood. But you pay no nevermind to it, you hear? What caused it's mended, but your Pa and his clothes is covered in it."
She shivered and then nodded. "How's Joe?"
"'Bout the same. He's still bleedin' though, that's why the Doc is concentratin' on him."
"His leg?" She remembered the blood trailing down when Joe rode out to save her pa. "Or did he get hurt again?"
"He's beat up like your Pa, but the leg's what's worryin' the Doc."
"He did it for Pa," she said, her voice shaking.
"What's that?"
"Joe knew he could die if he rode after Pa. I tried to stop him." She choked and the tears began to flow. "I tried, but I couldn't!"
"Laura..."
"Oh, Mister Edwards, if Joe dies it'll be all my fault! I should've stopped him!"
"Half-pint. Half-pint! Look at me!" He pulled her away and held her gaze. "Joe's a man and he made a decision. And he did save your Pa. He did."
She sucked in a sob. "You mean..."
"Your Pa would be dead if it wasn't for him." Isaiah wiped away her tears. "So you see, by lettin' Joe go, you had a hand in savin' your pa too."
She heard Mary gasp.
"They're getting them out of the wagon," her sister said.
Mister Edwards took hold of them both and pulled them back. He had a hand on each of their shoulders. His grip was tight and it gave her strength as she watched Mister Oleson and Mister Dorfler carry Joe into the house. He was all bundled up in a blanket, but she could tell it was him 'cause his hair was silver and shining in the afternoon sun.
She felt Mary take her hand. Her sister made that same little noise Ma had made when looking in the wagon.
"Pa..."
He was wrapped up to, but his face was showing. It was all bloody and swollen. His beautiful brown hair was thick with pine needles and dried grass clinging to mud and blood. Their mother came over to them as the men carried their pa into the house. She knelt before them and opened her arms.
"There, there," she soothed as they fell into them. "There, now. Your father's alive and he's home. So is Joe. Our prayers have been answered."
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Hours later when the girls had given in to exhaustion and fallen asleep in the loft and everyone had left except for Doctor Baker and Isaiah, Caroline fell into the chair before the fire and lowered her head into her hands. She was exhausted too. Seeing Charles the way he was, knowing how close he had come to dying, well, if there hadn't been things to do she would have just dissolved into a puddle. As it was, when Charles didn't have a need, Joe did. Both men were fighting infection and fever, but Joe was worse.
Much worse.
She sat for a moment, staring into the flames and then, feeling guilty rose again and went into Carrie's room. Her little ones' bed was too small for Joe to be comfortable, so they had built a place for him to lay using Carrie's ticking and a pile of blankets. She hoped it was comfortable enough.
Still, at the moment, she doubted Joe knew whether it was or not.
Lowering herself to the floor, she sat beside him and looked at him. He had the look of an angel with that silver hair and beautiful boyish face. Like a little lost boy, he looked sad and lonely as well. He was so far from home and from the ones who loved him. She wished she could get word to them that he was here and, for the moment, alive. She couldn't imagine one of her girls growing up and leaving and never being heard from again. The ache – the hole in her heart would never be filled.
Reaching out, she pushed a few of the wet curls back from his fevered forehead. Joe had spoken some of his family. She knew he had two brothers – Adam and Hoss. Hoss had died and Adam vanished without a word. They had been close, she could tell. It near broke her heart to see the pain in his eyes when he mentioned them. Apparently his father was named Ben and he was one of the largest land owners in Nevada State. Joe was quite wealthy in land and money. But money and wealth were empty things if there was no one to share them with. He'd married two years before. His young wife had been murdered and her body burned in a fire along with the child she carried. Caroline's hand rested on his head.
One could not imagine.
Looking at him, she could see what Alice fell in love with. Joe was handsome and seemed to be a charming man. He had the same smile and laugh as Charles. Sadly now, after the tragedy, his grief colored everything. In some ways Joe reminded her of Isaiah, a man driven by demons so deep within himself that no one and nothing could exorcise them. The mountain man had tried by numbing himself with liquor just like Joe.
Of course, when the numbness wore off...
Driven by compassion, Caroline took Joe's hand and held it and, like a mother, ran the fingers of her other hand along his furrowed brow and though the sweat-soaked curls that clung to it. She began to hum, and finally to sing.
There's a land that is fairer than day,
And by faith we can see it afar;
For the Father waits over the way
To prepare us a dwelling place there.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
"I saw her...you know," a weary voice said softly. "Waitin' there...on that...shore..."
Caroline smiled as she met his fevered gaze and nodded. Others would say it was crazy, but she knew it was true. "I believe you, Joe."
"...told me...not my time..."
She touched his hair again. "No. I'm sure it's not."
A smile wrinkled the corner of his lips. "Things...to do..."
Like live, she thought.
"Yes."
Joe's fingers tightened on hers. "Your husband?" he asked, his voice finding strength.
The blonde woman fought back tears. "Better than you. Fighting too. Thank you for saving him."
She expected him to defer, to insist he hadn't. Instead he said, "Only...fair."
"Fair?"
Those green eyes, emeralds in the darkness, focused on her. "Owed you...for saving me."
"Joe, I didn't – "
His fingers found their way to her lips and silenced her. "Seems I need...a...woman in...my life after all."
Caroline thought of that hand she had felt on her shoulder while she was praying. "Alice would want you to be happy. To find someone to share your life with. To have children with them."
He winced but then nodded. "Maybe. Someday."
"Caroline, are you wearing my patient out?" Doctor Baker asked. She turned to find Hiram standing in the entry to Carrie's room. He was smiling, but worry crinkled his blue eyes.
She smiled back at him. "We were just talking about Joe's future."
The sick man snorted. "'Course we're waiting for you...to tell me if...I got one."
The doctor entered the room. "Why don't you and I switch places, Caroline? There's more than enough ornery men in this house to go around."
Something in the way he said it gave her hope. "Charles?"
He nodded. "He's asking for you."
She was up and on her way in a second. At the door Hiram caught her arm. "Don't expect too much. I have him heavily sedated and its hard for him to talk with all the bruising."
It didn't matter! Charles was awake!
Caroline flew through the common room, past the kitchen and down the corridor, slowing just as she came to their room. It was night now and the doctor had lit a lamp. In its glow Charles looked less...damaged. Still, the cuts and bruises were evident and his poor face was so swollen he didn't look like himself. His eyes were closed and she wondered if he had gone back to sleep.
Taking a seat beside him on the bed, she touched the one area of his face that was undamaged and called softly, "Charles. Charles, its Caroline."
She waited and then tried one more time.
"Charles?"
When there was no response she started to rise. It was then she felt a movement of his hand. His fingers sought hers. He had no strength to squeeze them, so she tightened her grip.
"Are you awake?"
The nod was minimal, but it was there.
"Are you in pain?"
He shook his head slightly. His lips opened and he said, "No..."
"The doctor gave you laudanum."
There was a little smile. "Good...stuff..."
Caroline chuckled with relief. "You're hopeless. Do you know that?"
Again, he nodded.
A second later Charles' eyes clouded with something. "Joe...?" he managed.
"Here. Hurt, but healing. Like you."
Her husband's eyes opened wide and just as quickly began to close. "He's a...good man..."
Caroline watched Charles fall asleep. It would be a long road, but she felt in her heart both men would live. Rising, she kissed her husband's brow and then went to her chair by the fire. Finding her Bible, she took it with her as she headed for the front door. Stepping out into the night, she lifted her head and gazed at the sky. In the aftermath of the rain it was beautiful, like black silk dotted with diamonds. The moon was high and full and it was almost like day outside. Walking over to the stump she often shared with Charles she sat down and opened her the well-worn book. The bookmark was still set on Lamentations Three. She thought again of her puzzlement when God had given her this chapter. She knew now who it was for. Glancing at the house she thought of how she would have to read it to Joe when he was strong enough.
And thou hast removed my soul far off from peace. I forgot prosperity.
And I said, my strength and my hope is perished from the Lord,
remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall.
My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me.
This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.
It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed,
because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness.
The Lord is my portion, saith my soul, therefore will I hope in Him.
Caroline sat there a moment longer and then, with a heart full of joy and gratitude, returned inside to tend the men she loved.