Death Has Its Price

Chapter 15 – The Sands of Time

It was almost dark by the time they left Mountain City. The wind had begun to gust as the sun set and it was kicking up sand and soil by the time the wagon reached the half-way point. The further they traveled the worse it got until it became evident that it was too difficult to see to continue. John pulled off the road and unhitched the horses, then forced both of them to lie down and did his best to use their bodies as a shelter of sorts against the raging tempest. He utilized the blanket they had with them to make sure Amy was completely covered, protecting her with his own body as the dirt and dust swirled furiously around them.

It was hard to breathe, but Amy was sheltered from the storm's worst. John and the horses weren't so lucky, they took the brunt of it. The wind blew like a furious gale for hours, well into the night. By the time it finally started to die down he'd swallowed as much as he'd inhaled, and both his stomach and his lungs were on fire. The coughing that had begun to slow down in the previous weeks resumed, every bit as bad as it had been immediately following the rockslide.

Amy finally peeked out from under the protective cover to find the poor man on his knees, retching and coughing, one more severe than the next. She shook the sand and debris from the blanket, then wrapped it around John, who was shuddering as an after-effect of his bodies reaction to the foreign invasion. "Aren't you cold?" he questioned, and she shook her head 'no.'

Miraculously their cargo survived the gale, the heavier goods on top holding down the lightweight items. John had packed a wagon before; that didn't surprise her. Nothing the man could do surprised her anymore. The horses were back on their feet and Amy started to hitch them to the wagon. Before she knew it, John was next to her, wrapping her in the blanket and finishing the job. He got her in the wagon and had to stop and vomit again before finally climbing up in the seat next to her. Amy took the reins; John was too sick to do much besides sit next to her and try to remain upright.

They were almost back to the ranch when Gage, Pete, and Jess appeared on the horizon, having saddled horses as soon as they were able and set out to find the missing travelers. "Are you alright?" Gage called out when he was close enough to be heard.

"I'm fine," Amy answered. "John's not. He protected me from the storm, but he was out in it. He's really sick, Dad. I think he swallowed most of it."

Her father and Pete dismounted while Jess held the horses. The two men got John down from the wagon seat and helped lay him in the bed of the wagon; Amy climbed in the back and tucked the blanket around him. Pete handed her the jacket Gage had brought with him and mounted, Gage climbed into the wagon seat and took the reins. When they finally got to the ranch Pete moved the horses to the barn, then he and Jess unloaded the wagon. Gage and Amy helped John inside and into bed; the queasy stomach had subsided, but the coughing continued unabated.

"What was that?" John managed to get out, in between choking spasms.

"A dust storm. We have 'em once or twice a year. You did the right thing, with the horses and the blanket. But you shoulda been under there with Amy." Gage brought John a glass of water and he drank most of it before the coughing and hacking started again.

"Couldn't take the chance. She had to be protected. We'd a been back sooner if – " He stopped talking, realizing that he'd have to explain the trail bums and the shootout in the hotel.

"It was my fault, daddy. I took too long shopping." Amy might be willing to take the blame and cover for him now, but Gage was bound to find out the truth sooner or later. 'Please, not tonight,' Amy's look spoke volumes. John abided by her wishes and said nothing further.

Gage stood up and yawned. "You're safe, that's all the matters. Better get to bed. Morning comes early." He said goodnight and kissed Amy on the cheek, then turned back to John before leaving. "Thanks for taking care of my daughter." He disappeared down the hall.

"I'm glad you didn't get hurt by those idiots that attacked us in the hotel. I was scared to death."

John continued coughing every few minutes, worse than he had for a long time, but finally spoke and corrected her. "They were after me, Amy. Not you. Me. I'm the hazard to your health."

"You are not. You're the man I love."

"Yeah. I'm so good for you that I could've gotten you killed tonight, just because you were there with me."

"Don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong."

John sighed. "That's just it. I didn't have to DO anything wrong. I just AM wrong. You'll never be safe with me around."

"Don't talk that way. I don't like the way it sounds." She started to leave the room and he grabbed her hand.

"Don't go. Lay next to me. Don't leave me alone." He looked up at her with those eyes and she couldn't say no.

She lay in the crook of his arm and saw the rip in his shirt where the bullet had grazed him earlier. "We didn't get your arm taken care of."

"It's alright. It's just a scratch." He was so tense, and just when she felt him start to relax another coughing spasm shook him. The coughing was worse instead of better.

"Do you want some more water? It'll help your throat."

"No. I just want you to lay here with me. I need you . . . . . . close."

It was reassuring to lay next to him. He was warm and protective, and as long as she stayed in his arms she felt safe. John lay awake the rest of the night, turning everything over in his mind. No matter how everything played out it didn't take him long to decide. He knew what he had to do. And he had to do it soon.