CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

THE NEXT MORNING brought no encouraging news – Miss Alice and Neil had spent almost the entire night in surgery, and several hours after dawn, Bob and Jeb came downstairs to take Sam Houston home, informing me briefly that Bird's-Eye was still kicking, though he wasn't in good condition.

The Iversons appeared next, and though the Reverend urged me to go to the bunkhouse and get some proper sleep, I was determined to wait for Neil. Finally, with nothing to do, I prepared a large breakfast, hoping that he and Miss Alice would be hungry enough to eat it. Concentrating on poaching the eggs, I didn't notice that Miss Alice was in the kitchen with me until she laid her hand against my back.

"Miss Alice?" I swung around, nearly upending the hot griddle. "Miss Alice, what happened? How is he? Did Neil—?"

"One thing at a time, please," she said wearily, reaching past me to put the pan safely back on the stove-top. "I think perhaps Dr. MacNeill can explain better than I. You may go upstairs now, if you wish."

I kissed her cheek, worried to see her so exhausted and unhappy. She thanked me for the food and promised she would find time for some sleep before returning to the sickbed; and as I started toward the staircase, she advised me to try to convince Neil to do the same.

I entered the room tentatively, remembering my reaction to the blood downstairs – thankfully the only smells inside were of lye soap and rubbing alcohol. Neil was sitting on the end of the bed, measuring a dull white powder into a glass of water. Instantly my eyes were drawn to the figure lying next to him, and I couldn't stifle the gasp that rose in my throat.

Neil turned to look at me, his eyes bloodshot. "He's better off than he looks." His voice was hoarse with disuse. "A week or two here, and he should be on the way to a full recovery."

I moved closer – Bird's-Eye's head was wrapped with heavy gauze, his face swollen almost beyond recognition underneath the white swath. I could see a plaster cast running the length of his left shin.

"What happened?" I demanded.

Neil shook his head. "We won't know for certain until he's awake, but Bob has a pretty good guess."

"Which is...?" I prodded.

"Did you know Bird's-Eye had shut down his stills after the epidemic?"

The question jarred me. "No. Why?"

"Bob thinks that one of his partners might not have been so happy about losing the revenue."

"Someone did this to him on purpose? Is he badly hurt? What did you have to operate on?"

He seemed reluctant to tell me, but he was too tired to prevaricate. "He was beaten severely – besides his leg, he had some internal injuries, which Alice and I caught before they could bleed into the abdominal cavity. There was some damage to his skullcap, so we'll have to see how that turns out, but there's no sign of any dangerous pressure. Sam Houston found him before any irreparable harm was done. He's a lucky man."

I sat down on the mattress, looking at his battered face. What a pitiful sight it was! Bird's-Eye had finally done something selfless and shut down his stills, and he ended up beaten half to death for his trouble.

"Can they catch whoever did this to him?"

Neil took my hand. "I doubt it. The men were probably from across the state line. They shouldn't bother him again, Christy. They probably think he's dead."

I shivered and gripped his hand tighter.

Despite Neil's fears, Bird's-Eye's head injuries didn't seem serious. He regained consciousness after three days, and although the morphine Neil gave him for the pain made him sleepy and unaware, he didn't appear to have grave complications.

He was hardly coherent, but somehow he managed to be a difficult patient anyway. It had taken all of Neil's powers of persuasion to convince Bird's-Eye that he needed to stay at the mission; and Miss Alice had to explain at least ten times why he was not allowed to keep his shotgun by the bed.

Still, I didn't mind acting as his nurse. I couldn't forget Bird's-Eye's kindness to me during the epidemic, so I looked after him to the best of my ability, which admittedly wasn't all that much, since I had to leave the room whenever Neil cleaned the open wounds.

News of the incident spread very quickly – the day after Bird's-Eye was brought to the mission, Isaak McHone arrived on our doorstep.

I had just finished changing the bed sheets in David's bunkhouse – where Mr. Taylor was now staying – when I spotted my student, standing a few yards away, his eyes as round as saucers, his hands fisted at his sides.

I put down my laundry basket and took a step toward him. "Isaak? What is it?"

He only looked at me, white-faced and trembling. "Why is he here?" he demanded, pointing toward the bunkhouse.

Oh, dear. "Mr. Taylor has been hurt, and we're trying to help him get better."

"He killed my pa!" The outburst startled us both.

"Isaak, sweetheart..." I wished David were here; he would know what to say. "Mr. Taylor didn't hurt your father. What Lundy did was terrible, but you can't blame anyone else for it."

"He coulda stopped him," Isaak cried with sudden passion, angry tears spilling down his flushed cheeks. "He coulda stopped him iffen he wanted to! I hate him! I hate him!"

I reached out for him. "Isaak..."

"I hate you!" With a sob, he jerked out of my hands and ran across the field and up toward the hillside. I let him go, feeling sick. Why could I never find the right words when they were needed the most?

"Sometimes showing anger is important, Miss Huddleston." Miss Alice's voice gave me a start; I turned to see her on the porch steps. "Hatred is an insidious emotion," she said thoughtfully. "It grows and festers when it's left inside too long – the best thing to start healing it is to acknowledge that it's there. Ignoring it only gives it the opportunity to sneak up and erupt into violence when you least expect it. He's acknowledged it. Now he has to decide what he's going to do with it."

"And what if he decides..." I couldn't say it, but in my mind, I could see the devastation that would follow another family feud.

"Isaak McHone is a frightened and lonely boy with a great deal of pain to cope with." Miss Alice came to stand next to me, keeping her eyes trained on the mountain slopes in front of us. "He has a good heart, and that can overcome any temporary upset. When it comes down to it, he'll do what's best. Perhaps he just needs a nudge in the right direction."

Patting my shoulder gently, she went back into the bunkhouse, leaving me to my thoughts.

A/N: Yeah, this chapter is short, but Ch. 29 should be eventful enough to make up for it. ;) Thanks so much for all your reviews!