PART III – Clarke
July 1882

Chapter 11
Ambush!

Spending the night in the in the Hansen household had actually been a pleasure. Mrs. Hansen was kind and motherly. Ellie turned out to be a very shy young woman, but apparently neither of the children had inherited their mother's quietness. Scotty volunteered to bunk with the children. She was surprised and pleased when Nick played games with them while she helped Mrs. Hansen and Ellie get supper together. It was a side of Nick she hadn't really seen before.

The night in a real bed was nice, though Scotty could remember days and weeks of sleeping on the hard ground. Those were days far back in the past, and usually memories she did not like to dreg up to the surface of her mind.

The threesome ate a quick breakfast and headed out on the trail before the sun had fully risen. No one was on the streets except a couple of cowboys. One was whittling at a piece of wood.

"Guess they ain't got work to do?" she said idly.

Clarke glanced over his shoulder at the two men. "Oh they're a couple of loafers. Don't do much of any kind of work, except maybe brawling."

Scotty shook her head. It was quiet on the trail most of the morning. About midday they stopped in a thicket to eat a hasty lunch. "Could have made better time on the train," Clarke commented in the silence.

"And it woulda been less dusty, but we'd have had ta rent a car for the horses," Scotty added. She was sitting next to Nick, who seemed to be taking a quick nap. They were lazy for a few more minutes, just relaxing before the next few hours of sitting in a saddle. Scotty had risen and was stretching out the kinks in her body when she noticed the sound of approaching hooves.

"We got company," she said softly. Nick had already moved to pickup his pistol, even though he was still leaning against the tree, his hat pushed forward. Clarke too, had eased his Colt from his saddle bags and Scotty reached down for her shotgun. It was possible the riders were just fellow travelers, but it was just as possible they were thieves. One could never be too careful.

"Howdy folks," Scotty squinted up at the middle rider. There were three of them and she decided to keep an eye on the one on the outer left since he was directly across from her. "Y'all traveling?"

"Looks like it," Nick replied shortly. Scotty recognized one of the men as the one who'd been whittling that morning and she remembered what Clarke had said about them.

"Mind some company?" the man asked.

"Yep, we do," Nick responded.

"Well, that's too bad," the man responded. "Guess we'll just ride on." He turned his horse as if to leave, but suddenly swung back, firing instantly. The other two had turned in unison and Scotty fired. As soon as she felt the kick of the shotgun she also felt an intense, cold, burning pain shoot through her right shoulder slamming her backwards. She felt the second shot in her lower back.

Collapsing to the ground she gasped for air, trying to calm herself and block out the pain that was webbing through her body. Her mind told her she needed to do something about the wounds, but her body was paralyzed. Fear gripped her as she tried to move her hands, her feet. But she felt nothing, except the pain. She glanced up to see the man she'd been firing at. He was pointing his rifle right at her and she knew that there was nothing she could do to miss the shot.

Suddenly he toppled from his horse at the same time she heard the report of the rifle, something slammed against her body shoving her out of the way of the bullet. She gasped for breath again, but before she could see or hear anything else a dark cloud descended over her and the last thing she heard was two voices. One of them was calling Scotty, the other Essie.

Scotty felt comfortable, with the exception of the pain shooting through her body. She grunted as she tried to move and felt the pressure of a hand on her shoulder. "Not move," the voice ordered. She recognized the voice.

"Nick?" she asked hazily.

"Right here, Essie," he replied. "You feel anything?"

"Ah feel like somebody shot me…twice," she tried to smile but was sure it looked more like a grimace. She tried to open her eyes and saw the smile on Nick's face.

"You had me worried for a little while," he said.

"I'm too tough to let a couple of bullets get me down," she tried to sound cheerful, but she couldn't help thinking about her children. Joel was able to take care of himself now, but Ben, Nellie and Luke still needed her. "Nick. Will ya promise me somethen?"

"Yeah Essie?"

"If somethen happens to me will ya take care of my kids?"

There was silence for a long moment and she thought he didn't want to commit to such a promise so she opened her mouth to tell him she took it back when he finally replied. "I promise it, but nothing's going to happen to you, Scotty, you hear me?" he added forcefully. "You're all right. The wound in shoulder just grazed you a little, the one in your back…" he trailed off. She realized that he didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't want to tell her the truth either. She'd seen enough injuries to take a guess.

"It's near my spine ain't it?" she said the words calmer than she expected.

Nick cleared his throat. "Yeah, it is." He said the words as if they were dragged from him. "Clarke's ridden back to Davisville for the doctor there and a wagon. We're going to take you back there."

She didn't respond to that, but she did ask a question she'd had in her mind since she'd awakened. "Are ya all right? And Clarke?"

"Yeah, both of us are fine."

"Which one of ya pushed me out a tha way?" she asked the question quietly. Something in her brain had begun to chatter at her and her mind wanted to wander to something else. It was going back towards the past. She didn't know why she was remembering those things. Why was it important about her baby brother? She tried not to remember him very often. It made her sad.

What was so sad about her brother?

"I did," Nick said. She realized she'd asked him a question and it seemed like a long time before he answered.

"Wha'd ya do, Chess?" she asked.

"Scotty?" there was hesitation in the voice that called her name. "Are you all right Scotty?"

Scotty was only vaguely aware of the passing of time. After a while she felt a cool, calloused hand against her forehead. She wanted to tell him to leave it there. It felt so cool, so refreshing. Her breathing came in short breaths and at times she felt as if she were struggling for air. Occasionally she heard mutters.

Her mind seemed to be wandering. She didn't know why she thought of Paul just then. She rarely did think of him anymore. He was representative of a life she'd left behind. And she thought of her little brother Chess, mixed with Jim and Louisa, the first two children she'd ever raised. Her fevered mind began retracing her steps to this day and place.

Nick Barkley was worried. Her bleeding had slowed, stopped, but she was getting warmer and now she seemed to be delirious. At first the words she'd said were incoherent, but now as he sat beside her waiting for Clarke to get there she began mumbling in words that he could understand.

"Didn't have to get so drunk…always knew he'd kill her…didn't expect Chess to get the shotgun though…should have left after he shot step-daddy…but they strung him up…" There was silence and he almost thought he heard tears. "Then married me off to Paul. Paul was a good man you know…coulda been worse…but then he got involved in the feud and got himself killed…"

Nick knew her mind must be wandering because of the fever. She lay quiet and still for some time before jerking back to semi-consciousness. He had to grab her and hold her down to keep her from sitting up and breaking loose the clotted blood over the wound.

"…didn't have to do that…but took that money…rightfully mine anyway…went to Georgia…met freed family…took me in…woulda died…then war…Sherman marching…woulda killed that solider myself…save Louisa and Jim's mamas…would have…but too late…children seen too much…have to take care of them…have to get them food…hungry children…own belly aching to eat…need food…steal if ah have to…don't want to…"

She murmured on. Darkness was beginning to descend and Nick began pacing the lengthy of the trail that was exposed looking for any sign of the wagon and doctor Clarke had promised to bring.

In between cursing Clarke and wondering if he were truly trustworthy enough, Nick thought about Scotty. What kind of life must she have lived. He had no doubt that her feverish mutterings were reliving the past. He knew she was from Tennessee and had lived in Georgia during the war, but he'd never considered what that had meant for her. He guessed she couldn't have been more than 18 or 19 during the war and she'd taken on children who were at least a few years younger than herself, but he guessed not that much.

"…go west…" Came from the wrapped bundle that was Esmeralda Scott. "Go to Texas…learn ranching…cut hair…people won't know…work as hard as any man…" He didn't doubt it either. He'd observed her enough to know that she was indeed a hard worker. "Get a stake…work at anything respectable…teach if ah could…won't want an uneducated gal like me…know as much as anyone…found Joel…abandoned little baby…nobody wanted…no white woman care for…woulda starved…how do ah take care of three children? No husband…not going to marry again…not marry Arnold Croft that's fer sure! He got a lot of gall askin' me too!..."

Nick raised an eyebrow and wondered who this Arnold Croft was anyway. Still no sign of the wagon as he reached down to check her forehead. She shook her head. "Hot! Hot!"

Silence reigned in the clearing. Nick thought of the ways in which he would skin Clarke Hansen alive if he ever got his hands on him again. He couldn't really see any difference in her fever, but hoped that it had gone down some since she was quiet; he didn't want to think of the alternative.

"You can't die on me Essie, you here?" he said quietly, seriously. "You aren't gonna die on me, you here?" His mind turned now to what he did not want to think of; he thought that she might die, right here, right now. How would that make him feel?

In the beginning he had not liked her simply for the fact that she had trespassed on Barkley land, and then it had turned out she had a rightful claim to be there. It wasn't a legitimate reason for not liking her, but it had made him angry. Then he'd thought Jarrod had an interest in her, and she in him. But Jarrod had made it clear before he'd left Stockton that there was nothing more between them than a friendship. In a way, he realized, he had not liked the idea of her liking Jarrod. He wouldn't have admitted it, even to himself, but he was jealous of his older brother. When Jarrod had told him what he had Nick had felt…relief.

Now, looking down at her vulnerable form, lying there in pain, suffering, her mind plagued with the past, he thought of the way the sunlight made her hair seem as if it were afire or how the deep green of her eyes made her name fit her. How he admired her for the responsibilities she took on and the how strong she was, trying to survive in this world.

His thoughts were beginning to drift and he suddenly realized that he heard a wagon drawing closer. Jumping up he ran to the trail. Sure enough it was Clarke Hansen and a small, skinny fellow sitting next to him with a black bag resting on his knees.

They night was long as Nick paced up and down in the small waiting room. Clarke was still there, dozing in the chair, but Nick couldn't sleep. The doctor had said it was iffy. She could survive the surgery, but if anything went wrong in extracting the bullet she could be paralyzed forever.

When the doctor had finally come out of the operating room he told Nick that only time would tell. He hoped he'd gotten the infection and her fever should break soon. They could only wait and hope.

Clarke returned home, but Nick stayed in the back room that the doctor had set up for patients. He waited their all through the rest of the night and into the next morning.

Scotty blinked. The sun was streaming through cracks in the window coverings as she shifted in the bed. She was on her stomach and it felt awkward. She glanced to her left and found Nick Barkley in a chair. His head was propped against his fist and his eyes were closed. "Nick?"

He jerked awake, leaning forward. "Hey Doc," he called and a small, skinny man appeared. He scurried over and began checking her. He looked beneath the bandages on her lower back and then checked her forehead.

"The fever's broken. Fastest I've seen an infection grown in a person," he shook his head. "Can you move your legs?"

She moved them slightly. He pulled up the sheet and touched the bottom of her foot. "Can you feel that?" She nodded. "She'll be all right," Nick seemed to be relieved. "Won't be able to move her for about four weeks though."

"Four weeks!" both she and Nick exclaimed simultaneously.

"But ah got a ranch to run!" Scotty tried to maneuver around, but Nick was suddenly bending over her keeping her pinned to the bed with his paws.

"Lie still," he ordered. "Capri can run your ranch. Ben can for that matter and Heath'll help out any way he can."

"But…"

"No buts."

She wanted to protest, but what he said did make sense. Jon Capri could easily run the ranch without her and Ben knew enough to take it over now as well. With a sigh she situated herself a little more comfortably. "Four weeks, Doc?"

"At least." He nodded. She grimaced.

Once Scotty had gone back to sleep, Nick slipped out of the doctor's back room and found Clarke at his mother's home. "Is she all right?" he asked, concerned.

"Yep. Doc says she can be moved in about four weeks, and I'm going to stay on to make sure she's okay."

Clarke was silent, considering. "That's a long time to wait for the orphanage fund to be returned."

Nick nodded. "I can send a wire to Jarrod in advance telling him of the situation and you can head on alone. Jarrod and Fred will straighten things out on their end." Clarke nodded.

"If you think you can trust me." Nick stared at him for a moment, considering.

"I think so. I'll give them a brief account of what happen to Scotty and you can fill in her family." Clarke nodded.

"So I suppose I'll go ahead and get myself packed up again."

(To be continued…)