"Quickly, put him up on the table," Michaela blinked the sleep from her eyes as she tied the wrinkled sashes of her white apron around her back. "What's happened?"
Although sleep deprived, she felt fortunate that she had chosen to remain at the clinic rather than take the long ride back to the homestead. With a head wound like the one Randall was sporting, time was of the essence. Not waiting for the answer to her query, Michaela quickly set about examining the extent of the damage to Mr. McCoy's head.
"Ms. Marrow! She hit 'im!" Horace replied with child-like amazement. "He brought his horse clear up on the platform, and was jus' tawk'in nonsense, Dr. Mike. And bleedin' from his head. I thought he was dru–"
A fern of a man made himself known beside the aspen that was Horace, with a slight throat clearing. His finely combed snow-white hair and the fine woven tweed of his suit indicated to Michaela that he was from the city. "I'm afraid my niece has had something to do with this," the man shook his head in shame.
"Th-This is Eli Marrow!" Horace went on, burning through his excitement. "Jake's been waitin' on him since that wire come!"
Michaela's eyes darted from Mr. Marrow, to Horace, then back to the task at hand. The thick skin at the back of Randall's scalp was crushed and split, revealing a dime's size window to the bone of his skull. There was quite a bit of gravel and mud, the mud of which, was keeping him from bleeding to death. Without peering up at the two men in the room, Michaela requested with a practiced air, "I'm sorry gentlemen, but I need the room to work… Horace will you please have Hank or Jake ride out to the homestead to get Sully and Katie. We can get to the bottom of this after I've stabilized Mr. McCoy."
"Sure thing, Dr. Mike," Horace nodded as he herded Mr. Marrow out the door in front of him.
Working fast, Michaela set about cleaning the wound and the area around it. The blood and mud mingled into a maroon liquid in the bowl of once clear clean water. Gathering clean linens close to Randall's shoulder's she began preparing a soaking of chloroform when, breaking out of unconsciousness, Randall snatched at her wrist. His eyes where like two electric blue lightening bolts darting from the misted hood of his blond brow. They seemed to be fighting confusion, attempting to speak in place of his mouth. Slowly his full tan lips pressed and pushed what sounded like the word, help, to Michaela.
Michaela softened, trying to relax her patient by soothing his raised shoulder with her free hand. "It's going to be alright Mr. McCoy. I am going to help you."
It seemed the man wanted to shake his head when he agonizingly jolted back from the pain. Then as his shoulder touched the table once more, the collar of his shirt mussed. It tucked back caught beneath the mud-caked threads of his vest. As his grasp on Michaela loosened, and his arm dropped down to his side, she saw it. An odd discoloration of the skin, hidden on his breast just about an inch away from center. With Randall unconscious once more, Michaela reached out gently pushing the ruined fabric away that she might observe the anomaly more closely.
The skin was not just discolored, but raised up encasing some small object just under the top layer of dermis. Although raw in appearance, as Michaela prodded, the skin was really quite healthy. The only thing that alarmed her was the fine purple vein which stretched over the tiny cylinder and disappeared over the hill of it into healthy tanned skin.
"A bullet," she murmured under her breath.
Suddenly her patient groaned. He was attempting to break through his haze once more. This wouldn't do. She needed to put him under in order to work on the back of his head. Knowing the danger of this, as he was concussed, she could only put him under long enough to stop the bleeding. Then she would have to revive him just enough to keep him calm. Calm enough to release the pressure from the skull and close him up.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Mama?" Lucy's groggy voice hummed like a heartbroken melody through the room. Her small fist quivered as it rubbed the sleep out of one eye. Two round opalescent dark eyes took in the panicked helpless stance of her father and then the frightening position of her mother. Upon seeing her maternal parent at the mercy of Celina Marrow, Lucy quickly began to move toward the foot of the bed. Reaching her hand out, as if the gesture could somehow free her mother from being stricken, Lucy beckoned, "Mama."
Seeing this Celina sliced the blade in an arc from Teresa's throat to her stomach. Jake's brows curled down angrily over his eyes as he jumped. Lucy gasped, sucking herself in, drawing her shoulders tight and falling back onto her bottom. It was then that Izzy's lip trembled, sensing the tension in the room. Her dark umber eyes rounded under her little drawn brows as she looked from her mother to her father. Instinctually, her small arms reached out waiting for one of them to lift her into their arms. It killed Jake to see his children so exposed and confused. It killed him to feel that slice of fear that Teresa had been hurt in front of them. As Jake looked back to his wife in agonizing question, he saw her move.
Teresa swallowed. Her hand gently rose feeling the intact skin of her neck. Chest rising and falling, her lips parted as her thickly lashed eyes blinked at Jake. She didn't think it was possible to feel relief at this point. Very subtly, she indicated to Jake that he must rein in his temper, before she forced herself to appear composed.
"My Heart," she spoke softly to Lucy, though she could hear her heart pounding and pulsing in her head. "Do not be frightened…"
Lucy looked from her father to her mother once more. Torn as to which parent to run to, she shrunk farther into herself.
"Lucinda…your sister is cold…you must cover her," Teresa directed her daughter, attempting to keep her children as close together as possible.
But Lucy didn't have to reach out as Izzy was already crawling closer to her older sister for protection. Together they cornered themselves on Jake's side of the bed, closest the door. Their desultorily gazes moved from Teresa to Celina then to Jake, unsure of the situation or the outcome.
"No!" Celina shouted digging the curved blade against Teresa's lower ribs. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing! I want Amie! I mean Izzy! Izzy! I want her here next to me. Jake you bring her to me, now!"
Jake stood tall, almost too big for the room. With one hand resting on his hip and the other feverishly raking through his hair, he was ripping himself apart. Jake was so close to snatching his daughters up into his arms and taking them down to safety…and yet… He was so close to tackling the loon, which was near to gutting his wife before his and his children's very eyes. Maybe Jake could buy himself some time. Maybe he could wrestle the blade away from her before she could hurt Teresa. Jake could easily take hold of the sickle blade. His hands would heal. Worst-case scenario was he'd loose a finger in the struggle. But a solitary digit was such a small thing in the larger scheme of saving his wife from the blade.
He was taking too long.
"Now Harris! Bring Izzy to me now!"
"No!" Teresa yelled suddenly, terrifying Jake. "Jake! Take the girls! Take the girls!"
"I can't. I can't let yah die," he was pleading with the both of them. "God, please, Teresa! We jus'gotta—"
Celina was starting to drag the sickle. It tore at the bodice of Teresa's dress, creating a dissonant ripping sound that unnerved everyone in the bedroom. Lucy held Izzy tighter to her side making her whimper as she herself cried, "No Mama! No! Papa save her!"
The hand on Jake's hip balled up into a fist as he turned around to face the wall-mounted shelf behind him. In a raging fit, Jake tore the small shelf off the wall, smashing it to the ground. Glass bottles of perfume, tonic, and a sundry of porcelain nick-knacks shattered to pieces on the hardwood floor. Huffing like a crazed man, he turned back around. With the line of his mouth moving, he cast his fist into the air in front of him, like a judge throwing down his gavel.
"If I do what you say! Yah won't hurt Teresa anymore!" he demanded, his voice booming throughout the room like thunder. "You'll let 'er go and just take me instead!"
"And Izzy…" Celina pressed. She'd been watching Jake's show of tattered nerves with a schaden-feude like air. She was enjoying the spectacle of him, and wasn't so sure she was ready to release her bargaining chip. "Put Izzy in my arms Jake and maybe this can go."
Teresa was begging Jake now, unable to hold back her tears. They were falling faster than she could wipe them away. "Please Jake. Please, take the girls and go! Everything will be all right. You will not be alone, I promise you! Go. Go."
"I can't," he had the look of defeat about him. "I can't let yah die. Teresa I …"
"No, Jake," she couldn't risk him saying he loved her only to have her daughters watch as Celina stabbed her to death in a rage. "I know…you… The only thing that matters is that you…My Heart and my girls go on. That is all that matters."
Jake looked at his wife. She was pleading with him to sacrifice her for their well-being. But he couldn't. No matter what she asked of him, he simply couldn't. He loved her more than life itself. It was because of Teresa that he had Lucy and Izzy. Because of Teresa, that he was able to stop poisoning himself with alcohol…was able to be a good man…be a good father. How could he repay the unconditional kindness and love she had given him, by allowing this wretch to strip her life from the world?
Celina released Teresa's hair, continuing to hold the pressure on the sickle. Almost mockingly, she combed her pale white fingers through the soft inky blackness. She cast Jake a convoluted look before observing how much it appeared she was running her fingers through liquid onyx. Her mind maundering, Celina hooked her finger into the disheveled scarlet of her own hair, pulling free a thick ribbon. Almost as though the room and people within no longer existed, she twirled a strand of Teresa's heavy curl next to her own. It was like dipping the midnight sky in a pool of blood. Lackadaisically, she observed the strands of Teresa's hair fall back down to rejoin the rest of her cascading tresses. The motion seemed to snap Celina back into her cracked form a reality as she gouged the sickle harder into Teresa's softly curving flank.
Teresa, who until now had been looking to Jake with a stupefied and questioning expression, grit her teeth holding the pain captive behind her sealed lips. Only her eyes betrayed her, showing the dark pools of hurt and fear welling up within her.
"Give me your word yah won't hurt Teresa…anymore," Jake dug his knuckle into his thigh. He knew that woman inside and out. She could hide her pain with the best of them. However, she couldn't hide it from him. "And I'll come to yah willing."
"With Izzy," Celina refused to budge.
"No, just me." Jake could think of nothing but getting Teresa away from Celina's plaguing clutches.
"With Izzy! Or the portrait won't work!" the point scratched at Teresa's already raw skin, causing an involuntary scream of pain.
"I'll give yah ah baby!" Jake couldn't believe the words even as they spilled out from his mouth. "I'll give yah ah baby but not Izzy!—One of yahr own."
The words sounded as foul to Teresa's ears as they tasted in Jake's mouth. She knew why he was saying them, yet she had shuddered in disgust just the same. Refraining from looking Jake in the eye, she turned instead to her daughters holding each other. Teresa knew what Jake was doing, and she didn't want to make it any harder on him by showing her hurt expressions.
"Of my own?" Celina's grasp on Teresa got tighter. Her mossy verdant gaze rounded with hope. Thoughts seeming to settle in the cracked abyss of her mind, she nibbled on her thin bottom lip as she looked at Jake. In her fogged sanity, she mistook Jake's deep inhale of apprehension for one of devotion. Celina drank him in from head to toe, enjoying the sight of him in a way that should only have been afforded to a wife. "Do you mean it Jake?"
"Yeah," he swallowed forcing himself to smile awkwardly. "Sure! I ah…I'd like tah start over fresh…Yah know…Just you an' me. "Jake drew a step closer.
xXx
Loren had himself pressed against the wall. His palms where sweating profusely as he involuntarily wiped them off on his slightly curved stomach. He could hear Teresa pleading with Jake to take the girls and leave her. There was so much desperation in the lady's voice; Loren had to swallow back hard. Then he'd heard it. It was the sound of a loud crash and the unmistakable splintering of wood and the shattering of glass, which had his moist palm wrapping around the knob. The commotion had wrought up such tension in the room that no one seemed to notice that he'd opened the door just enough to see the girls, wrapped in each other's arms on the bed.
The room was deeply shadowed, yet there was just enough shimmer from some unknown light source that Loren could just make out the fear on Lucy and Izzy's faces. However, not being the typical hero, Loren felt awash as to what he should do. Attempting to buy time, he listened as Jake and Teresa earnestly vied to place their head on the chopping block in place of the other. Then he heard the shred of fabric and the nearly inaudible clenching of teeth, followed by Jake, and what he hoped was an empty-handed counter offer.
Loren peered down at his hands. His fingers were thick and bent with his growing age. The wrinkles in his palms had deepened and crinkled, and the thin layer of top skin appeared rough and dry. They looked tainted to him. Tainted with the green hued shade of greed. Greed and bitterness. This was too much to be had. Loren Bray didn't know what sight he'd behold if he delved farther into this nightmare, but he sure as hell wasn't going to leave Jake in the lurch.
Clenching his gnarled hands into fists, Loren barged into the room, knocking the door into the sidewall. Everyone froze in shock as the door bounced off the wall and came back striking him in the face. Loren shook his head like a wet dog regaining his purpose.
"Gett'er Jake!" he shouted encasing Lucy and Izzy in his arms. His body shielding them from the view of what their father had to do.
Within seconds of Loren's entrance, Jake lunged for the sickle wrapping one hand around the curved blade, and the other around Celina's hand on the handle. As he yanked the severing object away from his wife, he felt no pain through he did feel the razors edge penetrate his skin. In a rage, Celina screamed shoving Teresa onto the floor as she followed after Jake and the sickle.
"Mr. Bray! Get them out of here please!" Jake heard Teresa cry. Out of the corner of his eye, he was sure he saw Loren with Izzy cradled in his arms shove Lucy into the hall and out of the room.
"YOU BETRAYED ME!" Celina screeched, using leverage to shove Jake onto his back. She straddled him, the sickle trapped in dangerous limbo between them. "Harris! Harris! Harris! Harris!"
Teresa having quickly accessed that the bleeding from her side wasn't fatal, turned frantically towards the shove-of-war before her. Insanity must equal strength, for Jake seemed to be having a time pushing the crazed maniac off of him. Seeing in horror as the blade began to nick at her husbands throat, Teresa gained her footing. She charged full speed, slamming her body with all the force she could muster into Celina's body. Together they plummeted back, knocking over the vanity stool. The sickle skidding across the floor ended its journey against the far wall.
The three remained dazed in their perspective spots. Jake was on his back, his hands in front of him still acting as though he were still holding the sickle away from his neck. Teresa curled on her thigh was sitting up, her eyes cautiously watching Celina's unconscious body laying flat on her face.
"Teresa?" Jake pulled her attention, as he began to sit up. She was curled up in his arms within seconds.
"Oh Jake! Your hand!" Teresa shivered, gently cupping his large hand in both of her much smaller ones. Blood trickled from the lacerations which ran across all four of his fingers. Only his thumb seemed to be unscathed. Thinking quickly, Teresa hurriedly ripped the hem off of her petticoat and wrapped it around Jake's fingers to staunch the bleeding. "Oh…you might have cut your fingers off!"
"It's… Aw, I'm alright… Hey," he cupped her teary face in both his hands. As Jake's lips pressed warmly against her own, he could taste the moist saltiness of her tears. "We're alright, huh?" he touched his forehead to hers, their noses caressing. "Huh?"
"Yes," Teresa shivered again, resting her hands on his rapidly rising and falling chest.
Their love blinding their caution neither had a chance to react as Celina brought the vanity stool down on Jake's head –knocking him out cold.
"Oh. No. Jake!" Teresa tried to reach out to him as he fell back onto the floor in a heap.
"Jake. Harris. Harris Jake," Celina rounded their names off in cadence as she grabbed Teresa by the throat and shoved her back. "You can change their names…Dress them up in finer clothes…but…They are still the same lying, cheating, dogs of old."
Celina swiftly kicked Teresa in the stomach, knocking all the air out of her. With her prey immobilized, Celina stepped over her sprawled body, calmly headed for the nightstand on Teresa's side of the bed. As she sat on the edge of the mattress, she familiarly opened the top drawer retrieving a glinting silver object. Teresa clutched at her stomach, desperately sucking in air, yet her eyes narrowed in on how accustomed Celina was with her surroundings. Seeing this riled expression, Celina smiled, stretching one side of her thin rosy lips over her teeth.
"Bet you're wondering how I knew this was here," she gently tapped the blunt edge of the open straight razor on her chin. "I've been in more than just your house. Not really sure which I enjoyed most…Cradling you baby in my arms at night while you slept in Jake's arms…Kissing Jake's neck and face while you were away…Or sleeping here," she pointed with the razor in the general vicinity of the middle of the bed. "Right here, in his spot."
"Jake is right," Teresa swallowed, feeling braver now that her children were out of the room and someplace safe. "You are insane!"
"I'm insane? You know you people throw that word around like it's candy!" she stood advancing on Teresa, who was attempting to crawl back towards Jake. "What's insane is the premise that Jake could love you. You're not pure. You're certainly not beautiful. Just look at how dark your complexion is. You–throw–the–portrait–off."
Celina brandished the straight razor in the air, coming upon Teresa. But Teresa wouldn't relent any further. "And you think Jake would ever love you? When you kissed him…he rinsed his mouth out just to be rid of you. I'm sure this Harris has had to do the same!"
You could almost hear the straw breaking the camels back as Celina shouted, "Don't you talk about my Harris!"
Teresa jumped up, taking hold of Celina's hand on the razor, much as she'd witnessed Jake do with the sickle. However, Celina's free hand suctioned to her throat digging her nails into her skin with fiery vigor. Teresa had to wretch and claw just to get her fingers between her throat and Celina's hand. Together they moved in this hectically rankled dance, waltzing towards the back wall. Their bodies fought against bureau, bedpost, and vanity, sending the latter crashing down to the ground. Auspiciously, the glass remained intact, though the round frame cracked.
Fueled by hatred, Celina smashed Teresa against the frame of the back door, using the solid backing as a foundation. Slowly, shakily, she managed to overpower Teresa's arm and bring the square razor up under her chin. Then Teresa remembered. It was sitting in her pocket, hidden between the folds of her dress. She'd have to unclench her fingers from the viper's coil around her neck. In a flash, her hand flew down, struggling with her skirts until she found the hidden pocket there. Her fingertips pinched the cool smooth ivory comb up into her hand as she felt Celina's nails dig voraciously into her neck. Wheeling her arm back as far as Teresa could manage, she sliced the air with all her might, scratching the comb across Celina's face, stabbing her healthy green eye.
Celina screamed bloody terror, releasing Teresa's neck in favor of inspecting the damage done to her face. Wasting no time, Teresa sashayed to the side, coming close to shaving off the tip of her chin against the razor. Hand connecting with the knob to the back door she threw the thing opened, and pulled a screeching Celina Marrow out onto the landing with her.
The essence of blood and milk dribbled from the woman's closed eyelid, making her appear to be melting. Cringing Teresa, leaned as far back as the rail of the landing would permit her to go. For in a rage, Celina had begun slicing the razor before her, unable to determine the distance between herself and her intended victim.
Breathing heavily, Teresa beckoned to her attacker, "How will your beauty fare now?"
Drawn to her voice, Celina raised the straight razor above her fiery head and charged in the direction of Teresa's mocking question. Her plan realized she dropped down to her hands and knees as Celina smashed herself over the railing and fell with a sepulchral thud.
There was an uncanny silence then, sifting threw the dark night air. It was the silence of broken dreams, tombs, and maleficent night. Teresa didn't dare look. She didn't need to, to know that Celina had fallen awkwardly on the raised wooden platform at the bottom of the stairs. For muffled under the thud of the woman's body was the snap of her neck. Celina Marrow was dead.
Teresa pulled herself up by the rail, her back to the mess down below. It was not over yet. Walking unsteadily, she crashed through the back door, almost falling herself. She had to get to Jake. Had to make sure he was all right. Rising up from the street men were shouting, followed by the rush of boot heels on the stairs inside the shop. They were so close.