Chapter Fourteen

Adam struggled to get to his feet. He coughed and the pain in his chest was sharper as a fine spray of blood flew from between his lips. He was through cursing Elias, damning him to hell and wished that he knew some of Hop Sing's curses. If he had been able to reel them off as fluently as Hop Sing did, it might have distracted him from the scorching pain in his chest and back, if even for a short time. Adam felt as if a red-hot branding iron was being held against his back and that it was slowly melting away his flesh to reach his heart and lungs. And he knew he was bleeding heavily; he could feel the back of his shirt was wet and stuck to him but not with sweat. Adam, trying to ignore the pain that caused him to hold his breath, dragged himself along the ground to a tree. He attempted to pull himself up to a standing position but realized he couldn't; he was too weak and it was too much pain to endure. He collapsed on the ground.

This is where I'm going to die—not on the Ponderosa but on Elias' land, miles from home. Wonder if someone'll find me before a bear or some wolves start ripping me apart. Maybe I won't even die before they start tearing off my arms or legs or ripping out my belly. Will Rachel know I'm dead? If not, will my family know? Rachel would let them know, I'm sure of it. Adam moaned in pain and rolled back and forth slightly, his arms around his middle. He began to shiver. I'm going into shock and then I'll die. I'll die alone out here—no one to see me out of this world. Think of the night with Rachel-think. Die with pleasant memories. Yes. Picture her face. Angels can't be as lovely. Blasphemy. If there's a heaven and hell, looks like you're going to hell, boy, for blasphemous thoughts. I should pray—Our Father who art…oh, Pa, I know you'll wonder what happened to me…you'll wonder… And then Adam slipped into unconsciousness but not before he thought I'm dying. This is what it's like—slipping away from all I love...slipping into…blackness.

"Elias, he's alive. He's still alive." Rachel bent over Adam as he lay on the ground, her heart pounding. The sun was setting and the light diming but she could see how pale his skin was which created more of a contrast with his black curls and the dark stubble on his cheeks and chin. She felt his forehead and he frightened her, he was so cool. She looked up at Elias who stood behind her. "We need to get him back to the house and then you go for a doctor. Now help me carry him to the buckboard."

"He'll be dead by the time we get him back."

"Help me, Elias." Rachel looked up at him. "You've done enough bad by leaving him here; don't blacken your soul with more sin."

Elias reluctantly lifted Adam up and Rachel gasped to see the dark ground beneath him due to his blood. "Oh, my God, Elias. He's lost so much blood." Rachel had to clasp her hand over her mouth to keep from crying in a panic; her heart was racing. "Hurry, Elias, before he bleeds to death." Elias grabbed Adam under his arms and clasped his hands across Adam's chest, dragging him to the buckboard where Rachel helped by lifting Adam's feet. They awkwardly struggled to get him in the back and Elias muttered that if Adam wasn't dead before he probably would be after their rough handling but Rachel ignored him and sat down beside Adam in the flat of the buckboard, gently placing Adam's head on her lap. She threw her shawl over him in an attempt to keep him warm and swallowed her fear. If he died on the ride to the house, at least he wouldn't die alone.

Rachel sat in a chair by the bed. The doctor had come and gone, removing the bullet from Adam's back, repairing the torn lung tissue as best "a country doctor," as he called himself, could but didn't hold out much hope of his recovery. "All you can do is keep him warm; he's in shock from blood loss. Give him water if he wakes and feed him broth and then some soft foods. Keep his head raised with those pillows and as soon as he's able, sit him up all the way—even get him to walk a bit. We don't want him to develop pneumonia and die from that. I closed that wound to his lung but it's collapsed—might stay that way, might not. If he starts coughing up a large amount of blood, clots or such, well, it may be a sign he's dying and then again, it may not be but if the blood just starts to pour out of his mouth, he's as good as dead. Give him some laudanum for pain if he needs it-and I mean really needs it. You want him to be as active, as he can." The doctor picked up his hat and his bag. "Good night, Mrs. Fell. I'll be back by tomorrow and check on him—show you how to take care of the wound and leave you some salve so you can change the dressing yourself, that is, if he's still with us."

"What do I owe you, Dr. Sand?" Rachel was tired, exhausted and had dark circles under her eyes.

"You owe me nothing. But if you have any rhubarb and would like to pay me later by making me a pie, well, I'll consider that payment enough. My wife can't make a decent rhubarb pie to save her life." He smiled at Rachel and she replied that she would see to it that he received a rhubarb pie with the flakiest crust she could manage. Just as he was about to leave the room, the doctor turned. "If that man lives, don't tell him that his life is only worth a rhubarb pie." He chuckled and Rachel smiled again.

Elias came to the bedroom door after walking the doctor out to his buggy. It was early morning and neither had slept. He leaned heavily against the frame as if that was all that kept him on his feet. "Glad Doc didn't want any money. Why doctors take a fee even if the person dies I just can't figure."

"Be quiet, Elias." Rachel said, wiping Adam's brow with a cool, wet cloth.

"Don't tell me to be quiet, woman! This is my house…"

Rachel stood up and faced Elias. He straightened up; he had never seen Rachel so angry, she was shaking with fury and he was glad that his pistol was on top of the bureau and not within easy reach or Rachel might very well have shot him.

"You will be quiet!" she said authoritatively. "If you aren't, I'll have a few things to say about how you shot Adam Cartwright." She raised her chin.

"I…why I told you, I didn't shoot him—I told you it was one of Truck's men that did it just like they did me. They're nothing but back-shooters."

"Really? And how are you any better? Even if you didn't put the bullet in him, you attempted to kill him by leaving him out there to die alone. If I were you, I'd just keep my mouth shut." Rachel sat back down and took up the cloth again and wiped Adam down, his neck and his chest. He was beginning to run a fever. Her hand shook slightly; she had never expected to talk to Elias that way and it had surprised her as much as it had him.

In a quiet voice, Elias said, "I didn't shoot him, I swear, and when Doc sends the sheriff out here, I'll tell him so. If Adam lives, he'll tell you as well that I'm innocent."

"I hope for your sake that the sheriff believes you and you better pray that Adam Cartwright lives or there'll be no one to attest that you're as innocent as you claim. But no matter what, you have to answer for what you did—or didn't do to Mr. Cartwright and to God."

Elias stood and watched Rachel tending to the man who lay in his bed. He couldn't understand how things had come to this, that Adam Cartwright was in his bed with Rachel, his wife, tending him. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" Elias complained. "You have him in our bed."

"Sleep on the settee or in the store room. Sleep on the floor if you like—I don't care." Rachel never looked up but she heard Elias' footsteps on the wood floor as he walked away. She let out a shuddery breath. Her world had been upended by this stranger, this inscrutable man who lay dying in her marriage bed. She wanted to cry and throw herself across his chest and plead with him not to die and beg God to save him