Chapter 4: Rescue

                Logan was sill some distance from the town when he heard the screaming. Sounded like it was coming from the center of town, he thought as he squinted, trying to see through the dust and past the milling people. But they were too high-pitched to be a man, or even a woman. And there was only one girl in the town…

                The agonized, helpless scream came again as he spurred his horse on. Dark Star, already winded by the canter Logan had urged him into to get to town faster, nevertheless responded to the feeling of urgency and broke into a ground-eating lope. Logan swung himself from the saddle even as he was giving the horse the command to halt, and barreled into the crowd, shoving people out of his way. He came to a stop at the edge of the circle of people around the whipping post and stared in horror.

                The water girl was hanging by her hands from the ring on the whipping post, being too short to reach it standing. Her back was bared to the Railmaster's whip, the skin already sporting five long red bleeding slashes. Blood streaked her back, and she was screaming in agony. And she was begging. "Stop," she was gasping, panting. "Please, stop, you'll kill me, you're hurting me! Please!"

                The railmaster grinned. "So, we know you can speak now," he said. "Pain loosens a tongue wonderfully, huh? So if I want an answer I'll have to beat it out of you, is that it? All right, what's your name?" He drew the whip back, the lash snaking like a living thing across the dust as he prepared to strike again.

                The whip was suddenly yanked out of his hand. He turned and saw the stranger from yesterday, the horse rancher, holding the whip. "Give that back!" he snarled.

                "Why? So ya can hit a poor, defenseless little girl with it again?" The square was silent. The child had stopped screaming. No one dared breathe. They didn't know a lot about the rancher outside their town, but he was pulling his belt knife from its sheath at his hip, and he looked quite ready to commit murder with it.

                Logan grabbed the Railmaster's collar in one fist and brought his knife up in the other hand. "Want me ta make ya scream like yer doin' her?" he snarled in fury. "So what if she don't wanna talk? Too many people talk in this world anyway, not enough listen. Like you. Ya wasn't listenin' when she begged ya ta stop. So let's see how well ya listen when I talk." His voice became low, dangerous, even. "I came here ta buy that slave offa you, an' that's what I'm gonna do. She's a little bit of a thing, ain't worth much, an' now ya gone an' scarred her up. I'm givin' ya one penny fer her, an' ya better take it, or I'm gonna get real upset. An' ya ain't gonna like it when I get upset." The knife came a little closer to the man's face. "I shouldn't even be givin' ya a single red cent fer her. She ain't yers. She ain't nobody's, 'cept maybe her parents, wherever they are."

                "I-I-I accept," the man stammered hastily. Logan dropped the man, never letting go of the knife, and dug into his pocket, coming up with a penny. He threw it onto the ground in front of the man. "Git goin'. I never, ever, wanna see ya anywhere close ta her again. If I find ya anywhere close ta her, they'll find yer body in pieces. Got me?" He turned his back on the trembling man and walked up to the whipping post.

                Up close, he could see there was a lot more wrong with her than there had been yesterday. Her legs were grossly swollen and covered with small dots of blood; her wrists were streaming blood where the ropes were biting into her flesh. Her lips were dry and cracked, and bleeding. There was blood trickling from the corner of her mouth where she had bitten her tongue in agony. The rags of shirt covering her chest were a mess, and splinters had been driven into the tender flesh and skin rubbed raw. And her back…oh her back. Logan wanted to cry. How far would the man have gone if Logan hadn't stopped him? How many times would he have hit her? Would he have killed her?

                Then he realized the girl was hanging limply, and her chest wasn't rising or falling. Panic seized him. Was she dead? Had the Railmaster killed her? He grabbed her around the waist with one arm, reaching up with the knife he still held and slicing cleanly through the rope binding her hands. She fell limply to the ground, only slightly eased by his grip on her. "Where the hell's the damn doctor!?" he shouted angrily at the watching crowd. "Get the damn doctor!" he patted the bruised cheek. "C'mon, girl, yer free now. Don't die on me. Ya gotta live ta enjoy that freedom. C'mon." He checked her chest frantically. Still no movement. He balled his fist and brought it down on the thin, bony chest. "Come on, girl! Wake up!" He slapped her cheek gently, then took her shoulders and shook her.

                She came awake screaming. "Please don't hurt me anymore please don't hurt me I'll say whatever you want me to say just please..." and she started to cry, harsh racking sobs that hurt just to listen to them. It hurt her too; she curled over on her side and pressed her hands to her side, and only then did he see the huge bruise mottling the skin. "Oh God," he breathed. If it hurt that much, and with that big a bruise, her ribs might have broken. He looked around wildly. "Where's the damn doctor!" he hollered.

                "I am afraid I cannot help,' said a quiet voice from behind him somewhere. "I am forbidden to practice on slaves."

                "I'm freein' her, damnit! She's a free girl soon's I can get these things off her!" he tugged at the metal bands locked around the emaciated limbs, and cursed when he couldn't get them off.

                "I do not practice on slaves." And that was all. Logan felt a surge of hatred for these narrow-minded, hard-hearted folk who could watch a child being tortured and do nothing, and his face was a terrible mask of anger as he gathered the broken, bleeding body in his arms and stood up. Her head lolled limply, and her breathing was harsh and labored. "Get the hell outta my way, then, I'll take care o' her myself!" The crowd parted to let him through, and he strode to Dark Star. "Come on, boy," he said. "Steady now. Easy." The horse snorted, not liking the smell of blood so close, but trusting in Logan to not let anything hurt him. Logan looked at the saddle. It would be quicker to get her back to his cabin if he rode Dark Star and carried her on the saddle in front of him, but it would jar her terribly. He could save her pain, put her on the horse, and walk leading the horse, but that would mean walking an hour. He decided on expediency and set her astride the horse, and she sagged forward until her head rested on the horse's mane. Once she was settled, he mounted as carefully as possible. She gave a weak cry, but seemed to realize he was trying to help her, and tried to suppress her cries of pain as he urged Dark Star into a smooth canter.

                Dark Star sensed the urgency, and got back to the cabin in almost record time. Logan dismounted in front of his cabin, pulled the child as gently as he could off the horse, carried her into the cabin and laid her on her side on his own cot. "Let me untack him, and I'll be right back," he said. She nodded weakly and closed her eyes, trying to control her sobbing. He hurried outside, untacked the horse, and gave him a quick pat. He shouldn't let the horse go still wet from a hard ride, but right now he was too concerned about the battered child inside the cabin. He stopped off in the shed behind his cabin long enough to stow the gear and grab a few bunches of herbs from the walls, and returned to the house.

                She was lying exactly the way he'd left her. She was terribly still, and only the rise and fall of her thin chest showed she was still alive. He supposed he should feel uneasy about seeing a girl undressed, but his concern for her overrode any modest pretensions. Unable to spare the time to go to the well for water, he popped the willow bark into his mouth and chewed, grimacing at the taste, until it was a soft pulp in his mouth. He carefully spit the juice into his hand along with the pulp, then said, "Here…I have to put this on your back…can you lie on your stomach?" she whimpered in agony as she rolled over, but it got her onto her chest, and he proceeded to pack the pulp onto the raw, still-bleeding cuts on her back. In moments its anesthetic qualities took effect, and she gave a soft sigh as the pain eased. She raised her head, trying to look at him. "No, no, stay down there," he said. "Can ya stay still while I get ya some water?" she nodded carefully and laid her head back down. He ran out to the covered well behind the house and feverishly dipped a full bucket out of it. He returned to the house, ladled some water into a tin cup, and pushed a hollow reed into it. "Here," he said, returning to her. "Sip from the reed. Don't get up." She placed her lips on the reed and sucked avidly. "Not too fast, now," he said. "Drink too fast, ya get cramps. How long have you been without water?" and then he swore aloud. "Stupid me, I forgot ya don't talk."

                "All night," came a soft whisper from a throat raw from screaming. "And all day."

                Logan cursed in anger. She withdrew into herself, managing to shrink into herself and look visibly smaller without actually moving an inch. He stopped cursing when he realized he was scaring her. "It's okay," he said. "It's okay. I won't hurt ya." Still she didn't look up. She might lie here because she was physically incapable of going anywhere, but she didn't trust him. That was okay. Trust could come later. In fact, he didn't blame her for her lack of trust. He should have obeyed his impulse and bought her yesterday; this would never have happened if he had. He brewed some tea out of more willow bark, and set that in a pot hung over his fire to steep while he sorted through his collection of herbs, trying to decide which ones would help her most. He finally gave up; almost all of what he had was for horses that had to be given orally, and he really didn't think she would get any further along in trusting him if he dosed her with horse medicines and they made her sicker. He sighed. There was only one other thing to do.

                He took the tea from the fire, poured it into the cup, and dropped the hollow reed into it again. "Drink this," he said. 'It'll numb ya a bit, ease yer pain. Ya should go to sleep. While yer sleepin', I'm gonna get someone who can help, okay?" She withdrew into herself again, and he shook his head. "No, not someone from town. A wise man I know, who knows more 'bout medicines'n I do." She slowly pursed her lips around the straw and drank the cup dry. He hadn't had time to sweeten it, but he didn't think she was aware enough of the taste to care. He sat beside her as her eyelids fluttered, and then closed.

                He flew out of his cabin, whistling for Storm. The horse came flying across the broad meadow, then snorted and skidded to a stop as he saw the bridle in Logan's hand. His ears flattened to his head. Logan approached the horse, who stiffly bent his head to sniff Logan's palm. "No sugar this time, boy," he said. "I promise, when we get back, I'll give ya two lumps. Right now I have ta get ta Running Wolf's camp as fast as I can, and yer the fastest horse I got. Temperamental, but yer the fastest I got. Will ya carry me?" the horse backed up, stiff-legged, but when Logan pursued him, still talking softly, he let Logan slip the bridle over his head. Logan led him to the gate, opened it, led him through and closed it, then took a flying leap onto the bare back. "We got an awful hurt little girl back there," he said into the cocked gray ear. "Get us to Running Wolf's camp as fast as you can." The horse took off.

                The Indian camp was only a mile and a half away, and Logan knew at Storm's speed they would get there in twenty minutes, but those twenty minutes were the longest of his life as he thought about the child lying in his bed back at the cabin. Had he given her enough to keep her out while he was gone? If she woke up and needed something, would she try to get it herself? Or had he given her too much, and sent her into a deep sleep from which she would never wake up? Thoughts pounded through his head as fast as the ground under Storm's hooves.

                Finally he saw the camp up ahead. He rode Storm hard right into the middle of it, scattering children and women before him, and reined Storm in to an abrupt stop right in front of Running Wolf's tipi. "Running Wolf!" he called. "Running Wolf, old friend, I need yer help!"

                The tent flap opened. "What is it, my friend?" the man said, alarmed when he saw Logan bareback on the horse he used only in emergencies.

                "The child, the one I spoke of yesterday! She's hurt bad, back at my cabin! I need yer knowledge o' medicines, old friend!"

                The flap closed, and moments later Red Doe came out carrying her medicine pack, then Running Wolf followed her with his medicine bag. Both of them whistled for their horses, then slipped hackamores around the horses' heads and swung astride bareback without so much as letting a hair fall out of place or missing a beat. At any other time Logan would have admired their coordination, speed and grace, but right now he was too worried about the child. As soon as both were mounted all three horses took off. Storm laid his ears back and snapped a little at being asked to run again, but when Running Wolf and Red Doe's horses started to gallop, he joined them too, as if trying to prove he was a better horse than they. He was so good that when Logan finally reached home and swung the gate open, Running Wolf and Red Doe were still a couple of lengths behind. He slipped the bridle off the horse and patted Storm on the rump, then burst into the cabin. Seconds later Running Wolf and Red Doe did too.