Chapter 11
"Well this is certainly an unexpected turn," Dr. Phelps said as Cora finished explaining why she and Nathaniel had come knocking at his door as he'd been preparing to go to sleep. "What happened to him?"
Cora repeated the pieced-together story Mikhail had given earlier. Magua had apparently been hiding out in the Kigluaik mountains, where it was easy for a person to disappear if he wanted to. His injury had occurred days ago now, attacked by a lone wolf who wanted the caribou he was butchering for food. He had managed to kill the wolf, but not before it did some damage. When the wounds had begun to fester despite his attempts to treat it on his own, he had decided to risk coming back for help, but had been unable to make it as far as the Inupiaq village where he had been living before.
"Mikhail fetched me to see to him," she finished, "but I didn't have the right supplies to even begin to try without doing more harm than good, so I thought it would be wiser to come to you."
"Why help him at all?" Phelps peered at Cora over the wire rims of his spectacles, clearly perplexed as to why she would go to such trouble for the man who had been accused of killing her father.
"Because at this point I think you know as well as I do that Magua had nothing to do with my father's death aside from delivering a peace offering that gave the true guilty party a vessel through which to commit murder."
Dr. Phelps paled a little. "Quite so," he replied with a curt nod, glancing from her to Nathaniel, who stood quietly by the door. "I thought the same as everyone at first, but when Mr. Heyward became so insistent about marrying you, coming here to pester you, I admit I began to suspect foul play. I couldn't be sure, though, and it kept me from saying anything. I am sorry, Cora."
"It doesn't matter much now," Nathaniel said. "If you can help Cora get him better, maybe something can be done then, but for now we need to keep this dead quiet. If Heyward or Beams finds out he's come back there'll be hell to pay, and Magua's too bad off to speak for himself right now."
Doc buttoned his shirt back up in haste and reached for his coat and hat. "I'll need to get some things from the clinic. You two go and wait for me off the path by the cemetery, if anyone sees you with me here it may rouse suspicion. I'll meet you as soon as I can saddle my horse." He left and walked the short distance to the clinic building, which his little single-room cabin sat just behind.
A short while later, the three of them lit out on horseback to Chingachgook's cabin. On arrival Cora ushered him inside to her father in law's lamp-lit bedroom, where Magua lay semi-conscious and quite unwell, his dark skin ashen and his body shivering with fever. Alice was sitting quietly on a stool beside him, and Cora knelt beside her to touch Magua's shoulder, his breathing shallow and his skin frighteningly hot. He stirred and opened his eyes for the first time since they had arrived earlier in the evening, taking in her face and then her sister's. Glassy with fever, they widened with confusion as he tried to comprehend their presence.
"You…come to finish me off?" He rasped.
"No, of course not," Cora replied gently, taking his hand in hers. "We've come to help. You are safe."
He closed his eyes with a little sigh. "Your father…It wasn't me…"
"We know you didn't do anything wrong, Magua," Alice reassured him, tears springing to her eyes. "It's all right. Dr. Phelps is here, and he and Cora will help you to get better soon."
He drifted off again as Cora pulled the blanket aside to expose the wound. There were several deep punctures and gashes where the animal's teeth had connected brutally with his right forearm. The flesh around them was angry-looking, swollen with deep red with streaks radiating outward, and though they had begun to scab over, a putrid-smelling greenish-yellow drainage still leaked from the open spots. Dr. Phelps sucked in a breath, shaking his head.
"Intervention has come at the eleventh hour. This looks terrible. It will need to be opened and drained, and washed with carbolic acid and iodine. Cora, see if you can wake him again and persuade him to take some laudanum. This will not be painless, and he should be as comfortable and sedated as we can get him." Miss Alice, get a few clean towels from my bag there, and perhaps a bowl and some hot water?"
Alice moved to get the towels, then left the room and came back a moment later with a wash basin half full of room-temperature water. Nayak followed her in with a freshly boiled kettle in one hand and a basket in the other.
"I had water on the stove already," she explained, adding it to Alice's basin, steam rising into the cool air. "There is uqpik brewing as well."
"Rock willow! Yes, brilliant!" Dr. Phelps exclaimed. "Cleaning the wound is paramount, but the willow decoction will help immensely afterward. Do you have enough for a poultice as well?"
Nayak smiled, causing the thin vertical black lines tattooed on her chin to bow outward. "I gathered plenty of it while we waited for you. My people use it often. Magua had the leaves wrapped over the wound when he came to us."
"Probably why he isn't worse off than he is. Now it will help ease the irritation and bring the fever to rights. Thank you, Nayak."
She nodded and left the room to set to work on the willow plants. Dr. Phelps got down to the unpleasant task before him, Cora assisting when necessary. When he was finished at last, the arm was dressed with a willow poultice and gauze soaked in iodine and the willow decoction, then wrapped with strips of linen bandage.
"Now we watch and wait. Keep a close eye on him," Doc instructed as they exited the bedroom into the cabin's common room where everyone else was. "If the animal was rabid he won't be symptomatic for a week or two yet, but if he doesn't die of blood poisoning or rabies, I believe this can be managed. Cora, you'll know what to do with the dressing, but if you need any further assistance please don't hesitate. Discretion is of the utmost importance given the situation, and of course you have my oath of silence. Please be careful, all of you." He bid them a good evening and left alone, nearly invisible in the darkness that had now settled at this late hour.
When Mikhail and Nayak had left too, Nathaniel insisted that Cora eat something, after which she went back to Magua. Looking down at him, the entirety of the evening's events caught up to her and she gave an exhausted sigh. He looked dreadful, both from his current ailment and in general, and quite gaunt compared to when she'd last seen him over a month ago. The faded version of him lying there in a drug-induced sleep was a far cry from the tough, wiry man who had barged into The Patroon's House, commanding order by way of his Winchester. She was struck hard in that moment, recalling everything that had happened to them since then, and by the irony that Magua appeared to be suffering from the very thing she had fretted over with Tom Mason's injury earlier that same day. All because he'd been framed by a heartless coward for a crime he didn't commit. Duncan would not win, she resolved, and Magua would not die from this. Not on her watch.
"What are you going to do with those?" Nayak asked Uncas as he scooped a big handful of bright orange akpik, or cloudberries, out of the overflowing basket that sat on the table in Chingachgook's cabin.
"Nathaniel needs them for a test," he replied, placing them into a scrap of cloth and tying them up in a small, round bundle. He offered no further explanation before he went back outside, muttering something about imminent failure. He, Mikhail and Nathaniel had been working on some mysterious project all morning while Cora and Alice had gone out berry-picking with Nayak. The sunset-hued cloudberries grew all over the tundra and were at the height of their ripening at the end of summer; soft, tartly sweet and almost creamy in texture. Now the three women set to making most of the load into jam, pouring the berries into a large pot with sugar to cook them down. They took turns stirring while Chingachgook sat out on the cabin's little front porch with Magua, who after a week had improved a great deal. Cora and Nayak's vigilant care after Dr. Phelps' visit had resulted in the infection drawing out after a few days, and now he was regaining strength after showing no signs of further complication.
When the jam was done cooking, it was taken off the stove to cool before it would be ladled into glass jars. Cora and Alice stepped out on the porch for a short respite from the cabin that felt too warm after standing in front of the hot stove. Cora sat down beside Magua in one of the wooden chairs, motioning for him to let her look at his arm. She undid the linen wrapping enough to look underneath, and was happy to see that it was beginning to heal and bore no further sign of infectious drainage.
"It's looking much better, as are you." She smiled at him.
"I appreciate all you've done for me, Miss Munro… that is… Mrs. Poe. I apologize, I keep forgetting how much has changed."
"It's all right, you've had plenty else to worry about. As for the marriage, it was a means to an end. Nathaniel has been very kind." She ignored the sideways glance Chingachgook gave her from the chair on her other side.
"Better Mrs. Poe than Mrs. Heyward," Magua grunted, having now been made fully aware of everything that had gone on since Edmund Munro's death.
Cora sighed, wondering yet again if it might be time to say something to Marshal Beams about Duncan's role in her father's demise. Between the miners, Doc and those closest to them, there was more support of that idea than she or Alice had thought possible in the beginning, and it might make a difference. There was no other explanation for what had happened, and if Duncan was guilty he should be held accountable. As far as she knew, though, everyone else thought Magua was the killer, and she didn't want to risk anyone finding out that he was here yet because he would probably be arrested on the spot. She had stayed here to care for him for the first few days after Doc had treated his wound, and he remained with Chingachgook and Uncas because their cabin was much further removed from town than hers or the Ivanovs' and no one would see him here. Alice went back and forth and had kept up her normal daily work with the mining, not wanting to reveal that anything was different from normal – it wasn't safe for anyone, friend or foe, to know that Magua was around. Cora had not gone to work at Doc's until Magua was doing well enough for her to feel confident in leaving him in the care of Chingachgook, but she had resumed as soon as possible for the same reason, and to give Phelps updates on their patient.
"What is that you're doing, Chingachgook?" Alice asked suddenly, bringing Cora out of her thoughts. He was holding a piece of what looked like a walrus tusk, and working at it with a small tool. She pushed her worries aside for now to examine her father-in-law's curious craft along with Alice.
"Scrimshaw," he stated, holding the tusk out to show them. "I learned it long ago from my wife's people, and taught Nathaniel and Uncas when they were boys. Kept them from being bored enough to cause too much trouble," he chuckled. Taking a small cloth coated in lampblack, he rubbed it over the barely visible work to stain the scratches he had made. The image came to life suddenly, that of a rocky, tree-lined seashore and Raven prying a giant clamshell open with his beak. Inside it there were tiny people, and the animal and human figures were all depicted in the complex Haida style. It wasn't quite finished, but Cora could see what it was meant to be.
"Raven and the First Men. It's beautiful!" She exclaimed with delight, recognizing the story Nathaniel had told her one evening as they walked home together. Chingachgook affirmed with a nod, turning it over to show them the other side, a dark bird with a flaming branch held in its beak.
"Rainbow Crow. But that one is from your people," Alice said with a little smile. "Uncas told it to me."
"My sons teach you our stories very well. That is good." His dark eyes crinkled into a grin, and it warmed Alice to see his pride. Sometimes it was hard to know what he really thought about her and Cora, and this whole odd situation they were all in together. He was quiet with his opinions and he had never been anything other than kind, and it seemed for all the world that he was complacent with Nathaniel's marriage to Cora. But what would he say if he knew about her and Uncas? She told herself that within a few weeks it might not matter anyway, because the end of September meant he and his sons would leave for the winter as they did every year, and they would all part ways. She and Cora would most likely go too, but where they didn't know yet, and none of them ever seemed to want to talk about it. Nathaniel had promised Cora that her life would be her own and that he would give her a divorce if she wanted one, but Alice found more and more that the thought of Cora leaving him behind made her almost as sad as the thought of never seeing Uncas again. She had nothing to do but hope that something might change before it was too late for any of them.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" Nathaniel's voice suddenly shouted in warning, startling everyone. The crack of a gunshot followed, and Cora and Alice shared a panicked look before they jumped up and ran, Chingachgook and Magua following. Nayak had come out too, and was close behind as they all rounded the rear of the cabin. There they found Mikhail and Uncas laughing and whooping, and a very pleased-looking Nathaniel covered in a mess of cloudberry pulp.
"What in the world is going on back here?" Alice demanded of them.
"It works!" Nathaniel yelled, throwing his hands in the air in victory, a sticky orange blob dripping off a lock of his hair.
"What works?" Cora asked, trying to make sense of the scene before her.
"Wyatt saw a rat in his storeroom, so I built him a rat trap." He pointed at the object in question, a wooden frame device that held an old revolver. It was plainly the source of the gunshot, as well as the cloudberry explosion; what remained of the cloth bundle Uncas had made lay in tatters in front of the gun's muzzle. At Cora's incredulous look, he explained further. "See, the rod there sits on the trigger, and when the rat tries to get the bait it trips the mechanism and pushes the trigger, and bang! No more rat. And it works!" There was a long silence as this information was processed.
"Kinnaq iñuk," Nayak muttered, rolling her eyes as if this kind of occurrence were nothing new. Mikhail chuckled in response.
"So." Cora's gaze swept up and down the cloudberry debacle that was her husband, her lips twitching with the effort to remain serious. "You make a living trapping furs, and of all the methods that exist for getting rid of a rodent, this seemed like the obvious choice?"
Nathaniel shrugged. "It's a patented design. I wanted to try it, and Uncas didn't think it was going to work, so I had to prove him wrong. Oh ye of little faith!" He tossed at his brother triumphantly.
"Oh ye of big mess," Uncas quipped, laughing again and sending Alice into giggles right along with him.
"Besides, it was fun." Nathaniel waggled his eyebrows at Cora with a lopsided grin, and she finally gave in to laughter along with everyone else present. She had not seen this mischievous, boyish facet of his personality yet, and she found it highly entertaining, if not a little perilous.
"That's not a trap, it's an annihilator, and you are out of your mind, sir," she pronounced, her eyes full of mirth as she shook her head. "And you're also a sticky disaster. Go wash up, I'll get you a towel and a clean shirt."
"He can borrow one of mine," Uncas offered, glad that Cora had responded to this with humor rather than throttling his brother for scaring everyone half to death.
The group dispersed, most of them going back to the cabin. Cora got a towel while Uncas fetched a clean shirt. Alice took it from him with a covert, lingering caress of his hand, and followed her sister back outside.
"I brought you a – oh." Cora stopped dead in her tracks. Nathaniel was standing in front of the rain barrel by the porch, having stripped off his berry-stained shirt and tossed it onto the porch rail. He was splashing water over his head, lean, corded muscle rippling beneath every inch of his uncovered skin with his movements. When he heard her approach he straightened, water arcing and sparkling in the sunlight as he tossed his wet hair back from his face. She had the fleeting revelation that her prior curiosity about his other tattoos was at last satisfied. Beneath his left collarbone, a raven to denote his mother's clan, and on the right a turtle for his father's. Each was carefully needled in blue-black like the ones on his forearms, similar to those Chingachgook rendered in ivory, and a striking homage to the parents who had chosen to raise him as their own. Mesmerized, Cora found herself at a loss for any sensible action, watching as rivulets of water dripped off his loose hair, running from his shoulders over the tattoos and down his torso. They disappeared into the unbuttoned waistband of his pants, which hung low enough on his hips to be tantalizing without being indecent. Well, this is not fair at all, she thought, suddenly fighting the urge to fan herself.
"Cora," Alice hissed, giving her a smart pinch that made her jump forward and come back to her senses.
"Yes. Uh… here." She held the towel out to Nathaniel.
"Thank you." He took it from her with another of his unsettling gazes and dried himself off, then shrugged into the clean shirt Alice handed him. After what seemed like a decade he went back into the house, brushing past Cora with an amused little smile.
"For the love of all that is holy," Cora groaned when he was gone, sinking into a chair with an exasperated sigh.
"Indeed," Alice replied cheekily, raising an eyebrow.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Alice rolled her eyes. "He's your husband, Cora." She placed a dramatic hand over her heart. "Heaven forbid you find yourself attracted to him."
At that, she turned on her heel and went back in to join the others. Cora stared after her retreating form in shock, wondering when in the hell her sweet sister had become such a brazen little devil.
"So then the damn thing goes off when Josie was in here alone before we opened yesterday, and let me tell you what, she was madder'n hell. She comes marching back to the house and tells me 'Wyatt Earp, if you think I'm gonna clean rat guts off that floor, you're sorely mistaken!' And then she handed me a mop."
"So it did work, then." Nathaniel leaned back on his barstool and grinned at Uncas beside him. "I told you it would."
Uncas shook his head and laughed. "You should have seen the test run," he told Wyatt, who leaned on the bar top in front of them. "But that didn't involve the actual rat guts at least."
"I doubt I'll get rid of another rat like that, but I can't argue that it did the job. A little too well, maybe." Wyatt grimaced.
"There's a lead slug buried in my storeroom floor," Josie interjected, having taken a break from playing poker to join them. "But, we are down a rat, so I supposed it's to be forgiven. And where are Cora and Alice tonight?"
"At home. Alice had to come to town so they could go to the bank and make a deposit, so Cora left Doc's early today and they went home together." Nathaniel left out the part where they would also likely be going to check on Magua. "Why?"
"Oh, no reason. Just haven't seen them in a while, and I'm surprised they went anywhere alone since you're usually the one making sure Cora gets home safe." Josie winked at him.
"Well, we tried," Uncas explained, "but they insisted they'd be fine."
Nathaniel chuffed. "I believe Cora's exact words were 'Go visit Wyatt. No one will bother us, we've got our three friends along."
"Three friends?" Wyatt looked puzzled.
"Colt, Smith & Wesson," Nathaniel answered dryly.
"That woman is just about as smartassed as you," Wyatt guffawed. "You in love with her yet?"
"Yes," Uncas teased with a wicked grin.
"Cut that out," Nathaniel retorted, downing the remainder of the sarsaparilla in his glass and refusing to look at any of them.
"Look at him," Uncas chortled, "he's blushing like a schoolgirl." He got up and excused himself, still laughing quietly as he went outside to use the privy.
"Younger brothers," Nathaniel grumbled to Wyatt. "I thought it was my job to drive him crazy."
"Ah, hell, he's just poking your sensitive spots, it's what they do," Wyatt replied, his eyes suddenly going soft and his moustache drooping a little. "Be glad he's around to torture you. It's been seventeen years since I lost my little brother Morgan, and I still miss him. I'd hope to God you never know that pain, Nathaniel."
Wyatt's older brother Virgil had been the marshal of Tombstone, Arizona back then, and Morgan had been vengefully assassinated by an outlaw gang the brothers had been working together to take down. Wyatt in particular had borne a great deal of guilt over the matter and had never really gotten past the loss. Nathaniel sobered at the thought; there were definitely worse things than being teased.
"Another, Mr. Poe?" Tom Mason approached behind the bar, gesturing at Nathaniel's empty glass, and it was plain to see that his injured hand was looking much better now that he was working in a clean environment.
"Sure, Tom, thanks." Nathaniel slid the glass forward and Tom took it.
"He's a nice kid, hard worker." Wyatt remarked, taking a chug from his own glass. His contained a scoop of vanilla ice cream in addition to the root beer, leaving white foam on his thick moustache that he promptly wiped away. Like Nathaniel and Uncas, he just about never drank alcohol, in spite of being a saloon owner. He was rather fond of ice cream, however, and he had proclaimed Alaska to have the perfect climate for keeping a steady supply on hand.
"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. If looks could kill, Nathaniel, you'd be dead and buried," Josie said just loud enough for him and Wyatt to hear. Nathaniel turned around to see Duncan staggering in with Bill Smedley and another of his smarmy-looking men whose name Nathaniel couldn't recall. They sat down at a table nearby to join a poker game, and Tom went to wait on them. He came back to the bar red-faced after Bill made some seemingly unkind remark to him, gesturing at his hand.
"Boy, I haven't missed workin' with them three," he muttered to Nathaniel and Wyatt, rushing to fill the newcomers' drink requests. "Already drunk, too, by the sound and smell of 'em. They must've been somewhere else first."
Wyatt glowered at their table. "Don't let them rile you, Tom."
Tom took their drinks to them quickly and didn't stick around for more abuse. While Duncan downed his whiskey in record time, Uncas came back in, passing by the card table on his way back to the bar. As he slid back onto his stool, Duncan leaned back in his chair somewhat unsteadily and stared at their group.
"Well hell, lads," he hollered over the noise of the crowd. "They'll let anybody in here, won't they?" Uncas bristled visibly as the three men laughed among themselves, his face darkening like a thundercloud, but he did not turn around. Nathaniel's anger rose bitter in his throat at the thinly veiled insult to his brother. He knew Uncas didn't dare react unfavorably, because it didn't matter that the Dexter was a friendly place to him. If a fight broke out he would be automatically targeted for blame by Marshal Beams, which was probably exactly what Heyward wanted to happen. Still, Nathaniel couldn't tolerate him being an arrogant prick to his family anymore, especially after everything he'd already done to Cora and Alice, and what Magua had endured because of his treachery.
"They sure will," he agreed loudly, swiveling around and standing up to glare at Duncan, then nodded to Wyatt and Josie. "Looks like your friend in the storeroom wasn't the only rat you needed to worry about."
"Nathaniel, kàchi xahowehòsihàn," Uncas admonished quietly. "He's not worth it." Nathaniel said nothing more, but his temper rested on a very thin line.
"You really ought to think twice about your customer base, Earp," Duncan continued as he approached the bar beside them and set his empty whiskey glass down, gesturing at Tom to refill it. "People might get the wrong idea about you."
Wyatt stroked his moustache. "I suppose you may be right, Heyward. I'd definitely do better not to let troublemakers like you through my doors, now, wouldn't I?" He leaned closer, his blue eyes flashing bright with caution. "You're paying customers and I'm as happy to take your gold as I am anyone who walks in here, regardless of creed or color. But you cause a ruckus with any of my other patrons, and you can damn sure bet I'll boot your asses out. Just give me a reason."
"Friend to everyone, aren't we? Civilized and savage alike," Duncan slurred, giving Nathaniel and Uncas a pointed glare. Uncas stood up beside his brother, both men trying to resist the urge to punch him.
"That's enough, Heyward," Nathaniel warned. He stepped forward to place himself between Duncan and Uncas, unwilling to let his brother be a pawn in this game.
"Is it enough?" Duncan smiled cruelly. "I disagree. You know, Poe, I can't say I wasn't sorry at first, when my intended bride chose your bed over mine, God knows why. But in hindsight she'd have been very difficult to control with her willful, disobedient attitude. I might have enjoyed trying to break her of that, but then I suppose that's what someone like you would like about her. A wild man and his wild woman, eh? And you wouldn't mind if she was… damaged goods, as they say." He laughed harshly and poked an unsteady finger at Nathaniel's chest, bringing his temper to a rolling boil. "Tell me truthfully, though. Did she learn anything good living in that whorehouse to make putting up with her worth it?"
Insulting Cora was the breaking point. Before Duncan could utter another repulsive word, Nathaniel's fist smashed into his mouth. He staggered backward, one hand flying to his bloodied lip before Nathaniel grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him forward.
"I told you one day we'd have a serious disagreement," he growled ominously. "Guess you decided today's that day. You just couldn't handle not getting what you felt entitled to, could you? Cora never wanted you, not before, and sure as hell not after you got rid of her father and tried to bully her into marrying your worthless ass." He shoved Duncan, toppling him backward into a barstool.
"You son of a bitch, you'll be sorry!" Heyward snarled, launching himself back at Nathaniel and swinging in the full force of his ire.
"I doubt that," Nathaniel shot back, moving out of his path. A wild blow glanced off his cheekbone but did no real damage, and he returned one in kind that connected solidly, putting Duncan out of commission for a moment. "Kàchi. Yuhëli," Nathaniel told Uncas when he moved to help him. "I don't want trouble for you, nimàt." He had made the choice to unleash his temper, but he would not take his brother down with him. In order to ensure this did not happen and to avoid damage to Wyatt's property, Nathaniel dragged his opponent up off the floor and to the saloon doors, pushing him out into the street. Most of the crowd in the saloon followed behind, the entertainment value of this spectacle too great to miss out on.
"I'll see you arrested for this!" Duncan shouted as the two men clashed again, his fist colliding with Nathaniel's left kidney area.
"It'll be worth it," Nathaniel grunted, raising a foot and using it as leverage to shove Heyward off him. Duncan backed off and redoubled, snatching a beer mug from one of the onlookers and hitting Nathaniel over the head with it. It shattered, the blow causing Nathaniel to falter for a moment. He wiped a hand across his stinging forehead and it came away covered in blood; the broken glass must have cut him. "Shit," he muttered, addressing both that and the enraged bulk of Bill Smedley crashing through the saloon doors toward them as Wyatt kicked him out. He could handle Duncan, but not him and Bill together. Thankfully the third man was nowhere in sight, having taken off at some point to parts unknown.
Wyatt collared Bill again before he could reach Nathaniel. Bill took a swing at him, Duncan came after Nathaniel once again, and within seconds total chaos ensued between the four men. Josie shoved her way past the throng of patrons and was hollering at Wyatt not to shoot anyone. Uncas and Tom pulled her away for her own safety, and Uncas cursed under his breath as he saw Marshal Beams running down the road from his office with Jack Winthrop and two other deputies following close behind. As the lawmen pushed their way through the crowd Nathaniel deflected a punch from Duncan, his right fist swinging around to deliver a savage right hook to Heyward's rock-hard jaw. The force of the impact sent a jolt of pain all the way to his shoulder, blinding him for a few seconds. Thankfully it knocked Heyward out completely this time, and he collapsed in the dirt road. Bill was in about the same shape after Wyatt had given up on brute force and cold-cocked him with the butt of his Smith & Wesson Model 3.
"You all right?" Wyatt inquired, catching his breath.
"Yeah, but I think I busted my knuckles on his jaw," Nathaniel answered, his head still bleeding as he shook his injured hand. "Hurts like hell."
"You sir!" Beams shouted, marching into the clearing over to them, his pistol drawn. "What the hell is going on here?"
"He started a fight in my establishment," Wyatt explained, wiping blood off his lip with his shirt sleeve and pointing at Duncan with the barrel of the Model 3. "Nathaniel and I finished it."
"Put that goddamn gun away, Earp!" A vein stood out on Beams' forehead.
Wyatt rolled his eyes and put the revolver back in its holster. "Ah, hell, Jeffrey, I didn't shoot the sonofabitch, I just pistol-whipped him."
"It doesn't matter! You're not the law in this town! Brandishing firearms in public, disturbing the peace, and brawling. You're all under arrest!" he declared angrily, annoyed at having been woken up by this incident. "Take them, and take their weapons," he ordered the deputies. "They can spend the night in jail and be released with a fine in the morning to anyone who gives a shit enough to pay it."
"I think you'd better hightail it out of here and fetch help," Tom Mason whispered to Uncas from where they stood. Uncas agreed as Nathaniel's sharp, worried gaze found him in the dispersing crowd, and he gave his older brother a nod of reassurance before taking off silently into the dark between buildings and tents.
As they were being cuffed and taken away, Josie protested vehemently, promising to get Wyatt out as soon as the sun came up. When they arrived at the jail down the road, Wyatt and Nathaniel were locked in one of the cells, and Duncan and Bill in another. It took three deputies to haul the unconscious Bill in off the wagon, but he remained limp, one eye swollen shut and a trickle of blood leaking from his nose into his mustache and beard. It seemed like Duncan might wake up for a moment when Jack dumped him in an unceremoniously heap onto the cell floor after Bill, but all he did was roll halfway over and resume snoring. Jack slammed the door and locked it.
"I'm real sorry about this, Nathaniel," he lamented to his friend. "Orders are orders, so you'll be here till morning."
"It's all right Jack. I threw the first punch, anyway."
Jack gave a low grunt. "I'm willing to bet that yellow-bellied weasel deserved it."
"That he damn well did," Nathaniel affirmed. Jack walked away laughing under his breath, joining Beams and the other deputies in the front office to decide who would be guarding the prisoners for the night.
"Well, shit," Wyatt intoned, plopping onto the wooden bench along the cell's wall with a sigh. "I guess we might as well get comfortable."
Nathaniel settled beside his friend, leaning back against the wall. He cradled his rapidly swelling hand, wincing as he tried to make a fist and pain shot into his wrist.
"That doesn't look good," Wyatt clucked his tongue.
"It doesn't feel good, either."
"You should have your wife take care of that for you." Wyatt's eyes twinkled.
"Maybe I will," Nathaniel grumbled.
"In the meantime, this'll take the edge off." He dug into the inside pocket of his frock coat and produced a flask wrapped in tooled leather.
"What's that?"
"My best Kentucky Bourbon. I carry it in case of emergencies such as this."
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't drink."
"I said I rarely drink. But we're stuck in jail for the night, and there's no ice cream here." He opened it and took a nip, then offered it to Nathaniel.
"Ah, what the hell," Nathaniel shrugged, taking the flask. "Might as well dull the pain if I can't get out of here till morning. Cheers." He tipped the flask at Wyatt in grim salute and took a long swig.
A few hours later, Cora came out of the jailhouse with one of Nathaniel's arms draped around her, struggling to keep him upright. Alice and Uncas were waiting outside with the horses, and rushed to their aid. Nathaniel was in absolutely terrible shape; the right side of his face was covered in partially dried blood that had also stained his shirt, and he appeared to be half asleep and very wobbly.
"Oh, Nathaniel!" Alice cried, looking at Cora with dismay. "Is he all right?"
"I think so," Cora answered, wide-eyed and a little shaken. "Injured hand, and a few stitches may be in order. Duncan looks far worse, at any rate."
"Good," Alice replied, not a bit sorry.
"Let me help you," Uncas offered, ducking under Nathaniel's other arm to help Cora support him. Nathaniel cracked one eye open and squinted at his brother.
"Helloooooo, Uncassshh." His head lolled onto Cora's shoulder and he offered a crooked grin. "Look. Issshhh my wife," he slurred proudly. Uncas caught a whiff of strong liquor, suddenly realizing why his brother seemed so unsteady.
"Are you – is he drunk?" Uncas gaped at Cora.
"Quite. Apparently Wyatt thought bourbon was the answer to the pain of a possibly broken hand, since they were supposed to stay in jail all night."
"Didn' take much," Nathaniel mumbled.
"I guess not," Uncas replied. "I can count on less than one hand the times I've seen you drink, and I'd bet Wyatt doesn't hold his liquor any better than you."
"He doesn't." Cora confirmed. Wyatt was still in the cell, whistling poorly and awaiting Josie to come and rescue him.
"How on earth did you get them to release him before morning, anyway?" Alice asked as Uncas mounted his horse and they all helped Nathaniel get on behind him.
"I insisted he needed medical attention, and I refused to leave unless they let me take him with me. Also, I may have bribed the guarding deputy on top of paying the fine Beams wanted."
Uncas laughed. "Of course you did. But you're not wrong about the medical attention." Nathaniel listed to one side at that point, nearly falling off the horse and hugging Uncas to steady himself. Alice stifled an inappropriate giggle, and Uncas looked half alarmed and half amused. "Let's get him home, I don't know how long he can hang onto me."
Cora and Alice mounted their horses and flanked Uncas all the way home, going slow enough as not to jostle Nathaniel off. By the time they made it back to their cabin he had sobered up just enough to get off the horse and into the house without disaster. Cora and Uncas got him settled in the bedroom, and Alice brought in water and Cora's bag with her medical supplies.
"Will you need any help?" Alice asked, unsure of how Cora felt about being left by herself to deal with a husband who was three sheets to the wind.
Cora shook her head. "No, I think I can manage. I'll call you if I need anything." Uncas stepped out of the room and Alice followed him out onto the porch, leaving the door cracked so that she could hear if Cora called out. Alone with Uncas at last, she let out a sound that was half sob and half sigh, and threw her arms around him. He had woken her and Cora out of a dead sleep earlier when he'd come pounding on the door with the news that there had been a fight with Duncan at the Dexter and Nathaniel had been arrested. There had been no time or privacy then for her to do much other than see that Uncas himself was unharmed, at least physically, but he had clearly been very distressed over leaving his brother to his fate.
"Thank God you're both safe," she whispered. "Now tell me what happened."
Uncas relayed the story in detail from the moment he had walked back into the saloon. Alice was furious over the way Duncan had treated him and the things he had said about Cora, but she was not at all surprised. While she would have like for Uncas to have the satisfaction of hitting Duncan, she was selfishly grateful that he had not lost his temper. Nathaniel had, though, and she hoped no trouble would come of it.
Alice sighed heavily. "At least no one was seriously hurt."
"For the most part," Uncas agreed, kissing her tenderly and letting her closeness settle his anxiety. "Nathaniel may have more regrets in the light of day, but what's done is done now."
"Poor Cora. He is absolutely crocked," she agreed. It had been some time now since either sister had been around anyone who was that drunk. "I'm not sure how much I should worry about her in there, but thus far a drunken Nathaniel seems far less threatening than what we were used to… before."
"They say liquor brings out a person's true nature, so she ought to be safe enough. I don't think Nathaniel has it in him to be anything but what he always is. In any case, it might do some good for him to be a little more honest when it comes to your sister." The velvety sound of his low laugh resonated against Alice's chest.
"You may well be right." She sighed again, holding him tighter and trying not to fret over what might happen now on several fronts.
Inside the cabin, Cora was busy cleaning the mess of blood off Nathaniel's face and neck so she could assess the wound located just behind the hairline on his forehead. She rinsed the washcloth in the basin of water and wrung it out again, returning to her work with slow, careful strokes. Nathaniel lay on the bed with his eyes closed, and she thought he might be asleep until he spoke.
"You're good at this. No wonder your patients like you." He smiled softly.
"I certainly have enough practice," she replied, examining the source of the blood now that the area was clean enough. The cut was small but deep, and there was a small shard of broken glass embedded in it. She placed her hand on his cheek, turning him a little more toward the lantern light to see it better.
"Mmm," he sighed. "I like it when you touch me. You have gentle hands."
Cora paused and pulled away so he would not feel her tremble, and reached for the tweezers in her bag. "You might not say that in a moment," she warned him. "Hold still, there's glass in the wound and it needs stitches."
She was glad now for his inebriated state, as it was far easier to do what she must with him relaxed and feeling less pain than he would otherwise. In short order she had retrieved the shard of glass, applied a little iodine to the wound, and given it four neat sutures. Nathaniel displayed a little discomfort during all this, but remained admirably still. When she was done she picked up his swollen right hand, gingerly palpating the knuckles and metacarpal bones.
"Goddamn, that hurts more'n the stitches," Nathaniel groaned, his eyes flying open. "I take it back about the gentle hands."
Cora laughed quietly. "I'm sorry. It will be quite sore, but the good news is, I don't think anything is broken. Badly bruised, maybe cracked, but it's hard to tell."
"Guess that's good then," he mumbled. "Bastard's got a jaw like granite, but it sure felt good to beat the daylights out of him. He's done enough to deserve it ten times over before tonight."
"What made you do it?" Cora asked out of morbid curiosity. Uncas had not had time to tell the entire story, only that Nathaniel had hit Duncan after a belligerent exchange of words, and things had escalated rapidly.
"He insulted Uncas first, and I might've let it go if he'd left it alone there, because Uncas wouldn't let me deck him for that. But then he said awful things about you, called you a whore, and I couldn't abide it." He gazed at her solemnly and squeezed her hand as best he could with his injured fingers. "He never deserved you, Cora. Maybe I don't either, but I'll be damned if I was gonna let him talk about you like that."
Cora wondered if he would have told her all of this in so much detail if he wasn't drunk, and a surge of emotion rose in her throat at his uninhibited display of devotion to her. She bit her lip to keep it at bay, because it made her hope for things she knew she ought not let herself hope for. Not knowing how to reply to him without making a fool of herself, she instead concentrated hard on washing the smears of blood off his scraped knuckles and wrapping his hand in strips of linen. When she was done, she set it down on top of a pillow to make him more comfortable.
"The wrap will help ease the swelling and support it, and you'll want to let it rest for a while," she instructed.
"Thank you for taking care of me. You didn' have to do all this. Could've left me in jail to suffer."
"I would have done no such thing," Cora said softly. "Lord knows you've rescued me enough, I suppose we're even now." She reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead to keep it away from the fresh sutures. Nathaniel caught her hand in his uninjured one, staring up at her with bleary-eyed adoration.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, turning his face against her hand and pressing his lips to the palm. She felt it to the soles of her feet.
"And you are very drunk," she countered, gently pulling her hand away and trying to remind herself that anything he said or did right now was not to be taken to heart.
"That I am, but you're just as beautiful when I'm stone sober," he replied with a lopsided smile. "Only difference is, now my tongue's loose enough to tell you."
"You need to go to sleep. It has been a trying evening for you, to say the least." Cora closed her eyes and sighed, frustrated. She knew what to do with the type of drunks she had encountered in the past – avoid them at all costs, or fight them off however you could. She did not, however, have any experience at all with a drunk man who made her feel the way Nathaniel did.
"So do you." He patted the mattress. "C'mere and lie down with me."
"No." She got up off the bed quickly, moving away before he could touch her again. There was no denying he made her want certain things, but she didn't want them like this. His behavior was provoking her mightily; not to self-defense but to wishing he wasn't inebriated, because if he wasn't she knew she might actually do what he asked. He was injured, and vulnerable for once in his life. She was exhausted and frazzled and incredibly relieved that he wasn't hurt worse, and frankly the idea of lying down in his arms was more than a little enticing. His current state made that temptation very unwise, however. For one thing, she knew he certainly wouldn't be saying these things if he was of sound mind, which led her to conclude that there was a good chance he didn't mean any of it at all. And for another, it was unlikely he would even remember any of this in the morning, which would surely make for yet another embarrassing situation between them.
"All right, then," he conceded and sat up, leaning on his good hand to steady himself. "Huh. The room's a little… spinny."
"Please get some rest, Nathaniel, you need it."
"Yes, ma'am," he answered playfully. "But I gotta get out of this bloody shirt first." He tried to wink at her, but just blinked both eyes in an exaggerated fashion instead.
Cora wasn't sure if she felt like laughing or crying at this point. He fumbled with the top couple of buttons on his shirt, then gave up on the rest and started to pull it off over his head. "Oh God, not again…" she whispered. An odd, strangled squeak escaped her throat and she rushed from the room, leaving Nathaniel to whatever torturous state of undress he planned to be in.
Uncas and Alice were nowhere to be seen, so Cora made herself some tea and tried to relax. When she had finished it she went back to the bedroom to check on Nathaniel, wondering if she was half-crazy or just a glutton for punishment. To her relief, she found he had taken her advice and gone to sleep, but had left the lamp burning. She tiptoed across the floor to the bedside table to take care of it, gazing down at him for a moment. He was sprawled out across the bed in a pile of long limbs, snoring just audibly enough to be endearing rather than obnoxious. Aside from the scrapes and faint bruises from the fight, he looked weary but peaceful, and the sight of him like that made her vexation fade away briefly. She bent over to pull the blanket up to cover his bare shoulders, tucking it around him a little to keep him warm, and placed his wayward hand back on top of the pillow she had put under it earlier.
"Good night, Nathaniel," she whispered. Before she could think better of it, she leaned down and touched her lips to his forehead, her fingers brushing his cheek before she blew out the lamp and hurried out of the room again. Alice and Uncas were still missing, so she went to the front door, thinking they might be outside waiting. Her nerves were beginning to feel shot again, and she figured a breath of cold night air might help, in any case.
"Alice?" she called out softly, opening the door and stepping out on the porch. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she could see that her sister was indeed out here. With Uncas. In his embrace, to be exact, and kissing him as if she'd been doing it all her life. They sprang apart at once when they heard her come out, both looking quite convicted.
"Well." Cora began, but realized she had nothing more to say. What was there to say? She simply could not deal with even one more thing tonight. Throwing her hands up in the air in utter surrender, she stomped back into the cabin, slamming the door and leaving Uncas and Alice staring after her in shocked silence. She marched straight to the kitchen area and reached up to the highest shelf, taking down the bottle of good Speyside Scotch whisky Edmund Munro had kept there, which had sat untouched since his death. She pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured a shot into her empty teacup, then downed it in one gulp.
Author's Note:
"Kinnaq iñuk." (Inupiaq): "Crazy person."
"kàchi xahowehòsihàn." (Lenape): "Do not act foolishly."
"Kàchi. Yuhëli." (Lenape): "Don't. Get away (from here)."
"nimàt" (Lenape): "Little/younger brother"
Once again, I'm impressed with my timeline. I think it's been just over a month, which isn't bad! This chapter is quite a bit longer than most, but I suspect y'all won't mind since it's a veritable roller-coaster of events. Much like my life. This chapter's private-life adventures include my poor child breaking her arm and subsequently requiring pins in her elbow courtesy of one of the awesome orthopaedic surgeons I work with. It's a damn good thing I know people, that's for sure. She is doing fantastic, though, don't worry. She's my kid, after all. Because of that I had a bunch of unplanned days off work and viola! This chapter happened faster. AND, it happened even though in the middle of it I had to have the display on my laptop replaced because I splashed just enough Scotch on it one evening to trash it (in the most gentlewomanly way possible, because it was damn good Scotch). My husband graciously lent me his laptop so as not to hinder my progress.
So. Now we know what happened to Magua, poor dude. The wolf thing is probably a little cheesy, but it's at least somewhat feasible and it was the best scenario I could come up with. Plus canine bites are notorious for getting infected, especially if one is hiding out alone in the mountains. Enter Dr. Phelps, because I really felt like Cora wouldn't risk trying to handle this on her own, given that whole vow to do no harm that includes not trying to do things that are outside one's reasonable ability or scope of practice. Cora is not a doctor, and not even a properly educated nurse, so she's responsible enough to ask for help. In my mind, Phelps is always a kind and forward-thinking medical practitioner, so it stood to reason that he'd be receptive to the traditional medical help that Nayak's culture offers. Willow in many forms is a very important medicinal plant, as it contains a basic form of aspirin and acts as both an anti-inflammatory and an antipyretic (helps fevers). Dr. Phelps doesn't do snake oil, and he has respect for Nayak and the people Magua has been living among. I mentioned Nayak's chin tattoos here too, which I haven't previously and should have. Inupiaq women often had a series of lines tattooed on their chins via needle, thread, and lampblack to mark a rite of passage, or the onset of adulthood/womanhood. That fell out of practice for a long time after colonization, but the practice has resurfaced in recent years.
Cloudberries (akpik) are another fun tundra tidbit. This story takes place at the perfect time of year for them to be ripe and abundant, and they sound delicious. They also provided something readily available and potentially messy for Nathaniel to use as a "test rat" for his ridiculous rodent trap. That thing really and truly does exist, by the way; it was a design patented in 1882 by one J.A. Williams. And frighteningly, it actually does work according to several YouTube video trials that also use fruit and not live animals. I found a picture of it while doing research some time back and showed it to BlueSaffire and MohawkWoman just for laughs, and then the idea of Nathaniel building one was born. Silly, yes, but it supplied a lead-in to the next scene and humor for the whole family (as well as a neatly wrapped opportunity for Nathaniel to remove his shirt and give Cora a case of the vapors). I have no idea why Alice is always such a plucky vixen in my head, but she is, and I love how it shocks other characters when she drops her little truth-bombs.
Moving on, the rat trap is a disgusting success at the Dexter Saloon (and a funny one thanks to some good lines/scenarios suggested by MohawkWoman), and it's a good transition to some brotherly teasing and a little serious conversation about brothers, too. And finally, the moment you've ALL been waiting for… Duncan getting his lights punched out by someone. Someone is Nathaniel, as it turns out. I apologize for not letting Uncas take a crack at him, too, but I needed him to not get in trouble so that he could fetch Cora and Alice, and Nathaniel loves him too much to let him get involved when he knows Uncas wouldn't get a fair shake. It was somewhat true to Nathaniel's canon arrest in the film, when he took responsibility for his own actions and wouldn't allow his beloved family to suffer along with him. Duncan is a big fat jerk in this scene, and he's obviously just trying to start trouble. Nathaniel is almost always more rash than Uncas anyway, but here it becomes apparent (as if we didn't already know) that Cora is his kryptonite, his weak point. Knocking the crap out of Duncan was probably not the smartest thing he could do, but I think we all enjoyed that in the moment.
It seemed rational that even though Beams is partial to Duncan and his cronies (God knows why), he would have to arrest everyone involved in the fight. Wyatt getting arrested hearkened to some truth; I read that he was arrested twice while living in Nome for getting involved in fights at his saloon, so this was perfect. Originally I had envisioned that jail scene going differently and featuring Cora going to rescue Nathaniel in a caveat similar to the one in the film, but this situation is really not that similar to the film at all, except for Nathaniel being arrested for doing something he probably shouldn't have (but yes he should have). Him being tanked enough to lower his inhibitions with Cora was the main point of that whole deal, so that was the focus. I don't usually have my characters drink to excess, but this was a sensible means to an end, and have I mentioned that I love Wyatt? In my research I read that he truly did not drink alcohol very often at all, and did in fact have a weakness for ice cream. It was too cute not to include. Josie was also apparently a notorious gambler, and sometimes got into trouble with that. At any rate, Drunk Nathaniel is a whole different animal than Cora's previous norm at The Patroon's House. For one thing he's the most preciously awkward drunk on the planet (I hope). Also Cora is highly attracted to him on any given day, and so when he gets friendly with her in a totally sweet and non-lecherous manner, she is pretty upended by it, but she doesn't think it's genuine because he's wasted. At this point she's just getting ready to collapse into a pile of raging hormones, though, and to add insult to injury, now here is Alice clearly having no trouble at all with her man. Cora is just over it all, so we'll leave her to her stash of Scotch and hope things straighten out in the next chapter, shall we?
Thank you all for reading, supporting, commenting/reviewing, messaging, encouraging, making me laugh, etc. This year sucks for so many reasons, and fanfiction is definitely a bright spot of distraction and positivity. Love, hugs and safety to you all.
Music inspirations for this chapter:
1. Help for Magua: "Another Day" - Solas
2. Better days have come: "You're Not Alone" – Our Native Daughters
3. Cora and her growing feelings: "Tell Me True" – Sarah Jarosz
4. Duncan's arrival/bad behavior at the Dexter Saloon: "Carolina Low" – The Decemberists
5. The fight breaks out: "The Bawds of Euphony" – Tony Furtado
6. At the jail/Nathaniel is wasted: "Gone to Ferrum" – Aubrey Haynie
7. Cora caring for Nathaniel/drunken confessions/secret kiss goodnight: "Beautiful" – Trampled by Turtles
8. Chapter close/Cora is over it: "The Stark Raven" – Tony Furtado