Sweetwater (Birdsong Series) Read online

  “Arrrgh!” He came flying off his pallet, fists grasping at air, reaching for them, trying to crush their escape. He fell and stumbled over the chair, but still, he plunged forward.

  Emily screamed from the top of her lungs as she left the little room behind her and the cold night air assailed her senses. Her heart was soaring at the freedom she felt. Her brother was right behind her, holding back his steps to protect her. They ran until they thought their lungs would burst, but still the old man gained distance on them.

  Emily knew Dusty could outrun Lucas, but she could not, and he chose to stay with her. At that moment, she remembered all the times that the little boy, so frightened of his big and angry stepfather, covered up for her and took her beatings. He would lie for her and try to distract Lucas from his daily abuses. Suddenly, she knew that she loved her brother—always had.

  “Run Emily! Don’t stop! I’ll . . .ugh.”

  Emily heard his gasp, followed by deep vile curses. “No,” she cried. Without turning around, she knew that Lucas had caught up to Dusty. She prayed her brother would be all right.

  Just then, she saw a miracle. A tall soldier riding hell bent for leather, coming directly at her. Before his horse came to a complete halt, he flew off his saddle and pulled his revolver. Emily fell to the ground, as he aimed directly at the old man’s atrophied heart.

  Emily was suddenly confused. What was happening? The gun fired, but went high, up into the air. The soldier fell to his knees and was simply staring at her. Another explosion tore through the air and Lucas screamed in agony, as he turned and fled into the darkness. Emily’s entire body was shaking so hard that her teeth were in danger of shattering, making it impossible to speak.

  Blake quickly surveyed the scene. He had passed the young stranger, lying face down on the railroad track. He was beyond his help, with a mortal knife wound to the side of his neck. He wanted to run to Emily, but she didn’t appear to be seriously wounded—unlike the young soldier, still on his knees.

  “Adam,” Blake said softly. “I’m here. We’ll get you fixed up, but I need to get you to my office. Can you get on your horse?”

  The soldier nodded.

  “Good. You’ve got a knife wound and it looks serious, but don’t you worry.” He helped Adam onto his saddle, and then returned for Emily.

  He gently pulled her dress together, and tied the torn fabric into a knot. It covered her well enough. “Emmie, you’re going to have to walk back with us. Adam’s hurt pretty bad and I’ve got to give him medical attention. Come on, now. I know you can do this. You’re so very brave.” He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her nose for confidence.

  She nodded.

  More than once, they had to stop and reposition Adam on his horse. He was gravely wounded, and Blake didn’t know if he could save him. Just a few blocks from his office, they crossed paths with the sheriff. He had heard the gunshots and had come to have a look see.

  “I don’t have time to talk to you, sheriff, but Emily should be able to fill you in. She is in a state of shock, so go slow with her. There’s a dead body back by the line shack. The bastard that did all this, got away. I think I got a piece of him, though. Can you take Emily back to the hotel and bring Cassie to my office. She may have to say goodbye.”

  The sheriff helped carry the unconscious soldier into the doctor’s office and helped put him on the surgical table. Then, as Dr. Donovan had asked, he escorted Emily back to the hotel where they would need to wake up the staff and return a pretty young lady back to see her beloved, perhaps for the last time.

  Dora was chosen to awaken Cassie and get her dressed. Cassie didn’t cry, but her fingers couldn’t quite manage the buttons on her frock. Surely, this was a mistake. It was dark outside and Adam had returned to Fort Hays. He couldn’t be seriously hurt, lying in the doc’s office. Dora laced up Cassie’s boots and led her down the stairs.

  “I’ll go with you, pet. We must hurry. Adam’s hurt very badly,” Dora whispered, her own heart near to breaking for the sweet young couple. She prayed that they would be able to see all their plans come to fruition. She prayed they would enjoy a long and happy life, together. “Hurry, dear.”

  Blake managed to stop the bleeding, but Adam was extremely weak. He had suffered a lot of internal damage and lost too much blood. The knife protruding from his chest had been huge and jagged, making a very unclean wound. Even if he survived the attack, he would more than likely have to fight an infection that could be just as serious.

  Cassie was ushered into the office, where she saw her beloved lying very still on the table, covered only by a thin blanket. She walked slowly and carefully up to his side, where upon she took his hand and held it close to her heart.

  She marveled at how remarkably handsome he was, even while being gravely wounded. His beautiful soft hair, the color of a raven’s wing, still shown with blue highlights and curled just a bit, down over his noble forehead. Adam’s nose was still straight and strong with an aristocratic flare. His cheekbones and jaw were still finely sculpted, as if cut from a marble bust. She knew his shoulders were broad and well muscled and his legs were long and well formed. Surely, he was the finest example of masculine perfection she could ever imagine, thus, he was too strong and too good to die. It would not happen, she told herself. He had promised they would be together, forever.

  Slowly, his eyes opened as he tried to focus upon Cassie’s silver blonde beauty. Adam smiled and squeezed her hand.

  “You look like an angel, darling . . . my angel with lavender eyes.” He struggled for breath. “I’m so sorry to leave you. I don’t want to.”

  “Shush, Adam. You’re not leaving me. Doc says you’re going to be fine.” Tears were rushing down her face and she was helpless to stop them.

  “Did I save Emily?”

  Cassie nodded. “You’re a hero, darling. Please try to hold on . . . for me?”

  He smiled, knowing he’d done his job well.

  “You’re the love of my life, Cassie,” he whispered. “Kiss me,” he said, barely audible, now. “I want to die with the taste of your lips on mine.”

  Cassie leaned over and put all the love she had into that last and final kiss. She knew the moment his soul left his body, on its long journey home. She felt her heart shatter into a million irreparable pieces. He had shared his last breath with her, and she was honored beyond all belief.

  The young woman ran her fingers through his lush dark hair, one final time, and then turned away, not daring to look back; she ran from the doctor’s office and headed for the hotel. She needed to be alone.

  All the women were brokenhearted for Cassie and Adam, but it was Emily who felt responsible for his death. It had been her stepfather that took his life, while he attempted to rescue her. No one knew quite what to say to her, so they all remained silent and dealt with their own grief. Morning would arrive in a couple of hours and that would give them time to come to terms with the tragedy of this night.

  Patty was the first to finally speak. “I think we need to follow Cassie’s lead and all retire to our beds. Life will go on whether we wish it or not. There will be much to do, tomorrow.” Then she added, “Emily, dear, we’re so relieved you’ve come home . . . relatively unharmed.” She reached up and gently brushed her fingers over Emily’s bruised and torn cheek.

  “You need to let Blake see to your face, darling, and please, don’t blame yourself for any of this. Adam was doing his job and Lucas is a mad man. We love you and we want you to stay safe.” She kissed Emily on the other cheek before ascending the stairs. “Good night, all,” she called down.

  Dora nodded. “You sleep in tomorrow, Emily. When you’re ready for your breakfast, just ring the bell. I’ll take care of you and Cassie, myself.” She kissed Emily on her undamaged cheek and slowly climbed the stairs, appearing much older than she had only that very morning.

  Emily’s eyes took in her surroundings. The deserted lobby looked exactly the same, with its flowers overflowing the impo
rted vases and the Persian rugs scattered across the highly polished floors. The clock on the stairs was quietly ticking, keeping its usual hypnotic rhythm. The town, at last, was sleeping peacefully, and the stars twinkled in the black sky overhead. Yet, all of their lives had been turned upside down and forever altered this evening.

  Through it all, she discovered memories, long ago abandoned. Dusty had not been the cruel young man she thought him to be. How could she have forgotten all the kindnesses he had shown her when she was a child? True, she was only four or five years old, but he hadn’t been that much older himself, and he’d taken so much abuse in her stead. Over the years, he too, had been a prisoner of sorts, held captive by the man they most despised. Now, he was gone. In the end, he’d given his all for her. He died for her, as did Adam. How was she going to be able to live with the guilt?

  Emily lay face down on the settee, burying her sobs in the elegantly appointed pillows. She cried for the terrible loss of Cassie and Adam’s family. She cried for the years wasted, separated from her brother. They could have, perhaps, been a real family, and now it was too late.

  “Emmie,” Blake’s deep voice whispered in her ear, cutting through her pain. “Darling, come upstairs. It’s time to go to bed.” He held out his hand and helped her sit up. He kissed her lips and the tip of her red and swollen nose.

  “You must rest now, and so must I. There’s plenty of time for all of this, later. I won’t allow you to get sick, angel.”

  Emily gazed up into his tired but compassionate face. He was the love of her life. She knew it at that moment. Maybe she had always known it, but was too stubborn to admit it. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him and she would soon tell him so . . . but not yet. Too much had happened, and there was still so much left to do. She nodded and obediently followed the good doctor up the stairs.

  Blake held both of her hands in his, while he kissed her waiting lips, knowing it would be almost impossible to leave her alone, tonight, but it couldn’t be helped. Somewhere, Lucas was hiding out and scheming against Emily. His bullet had not stopped the evil man. Now, he was like a wounded animal, more dangerous than before.

  “You get undressed and crawl into bed, while I fix you something to help you sleep. You need to relax. I’ll sit by your side until you fall asleep.”

  Emily smiled gratefully for his care and concern, but it was his arms around her, that she mostly needed. She wanted him to make love to her, but the good doctor had other things on his mind and she must let him go.

  In only a few minutes, Emily had succumbed to an exhausted sleep. Hopefully, she would not dream of the horrors she had witnessed that evening. Blake took one last look at the graceful form covered by the patchwork quilt, and his heart swelled with love for her.

  “Sleep tight, my love,” he murmured low, so as not to wake her. Then, he quietly left her room and proceeded back down the stairs, where he encountered Whiskey, sitting in a straight-backed chair with his shotgun resting across his lap.

  “Whiskey? You standing guard?”

  “Damn right, I am,” he growled. “Ain’t nobody gettin’ by me, tonight.”

  Blake could see the old man’s red-rimmed eyes staring straight at the doors, his resolve clearly shown in his clenched jaws and the tight grip he held on the gun.

  “It’s a cryin’ shame what happened today. Emily could have been killed. If it weren’t for you and Corporal Breyer . . .” He paused while he cleared his throat and shook away the threatening tears. “He was a fine young man and it don’t seem fair that an old coot like me is still around while he lies up yonder . . . waitin’ to be buried.” He sniffed, unable to hide his emotions.

  Blake strode over to the big man and put his hand on his shoulder. “It was his job, Whiskey, and he did it proudly. Before he died, he asked if Emily was safe. We need to remember his bravery and his selflessness. He knew what he was risking and he didn’t hesitate for a single moment.”

  Whiskey was inconsolable as he covered his face with his hand. “Poor Cassie. It just weren’t fair.”

  “As heroic as Adam was, he did nothing more than what you would have done in his place,” Blake continued. “Our love for these women knows no bounds, and we’d gladly give up our lives in protection of each and every one of them. Look at you, sitting here, guarding the doors. It’s what we must do until that outlaw is stopped.”

  Drying his cheeks with his sleeve, the old man nodded. “You’re right, Doc. You can count on me. I’ll be fine, now. Just do me a favor—watch your back.”

  “Gladly. After this is all over, I’m going to marry Emmie and take her away from here. I’m going to put her on a farm. That is, if she’ll have me.” He smiled, sheepishly.

  One side of Whiskey’s mouth turned up, in a lopsided grin, “She’ll have you, son. I can tell she’s head over heels for you.”

  Blake chuckled, and slapped the man on his back. “See you in a few hours. I got some things to tend to.”

  The young doctor entered his empty office, and sighed long and loud. The corporal’s body had been removed to the undertaker’s and was being readied for his long trip back home. Adam’s brother would be arriving in two days, on the morning train. Blake fell into his overstuffed chair, and grasping his hair in both fists, he leaned forward and cried. He cried like a child. He cried for all the hurt and pain. He cried for the injustice of it all. He cried for all the lost hopes and dreams of the future. But most of all, he cried for the abrupt loss of a chance at love.

  CHAPTER NINE

  There was a distinct chill in the air that portended the arrival of snow from off the western plains. Cassie remained in her room, asking for privacy. She had much to consider and many memories to revisit.

  Emily decided to keep to herself, as well. She was emotionally fragile and bereft. She thought it would be best to stay in her room and try to regain her composure before facing her friends and hotel guests. Most of all, she dreaded her first meeting with dear, sweet Cassie. What could she say to lessen her friend’s grief? Emily simply wasn’t strong enough to face the day.

  After lunch, Emily received a small knock on her door. “Em? It’s me, Patty. I must speak with you.”

  Sighing, Emily reluctantly told her friend to come in. She sat up in bed, eager to listen to Patty and send her on her way, again. There was nothing the woman could say to make any difference in the way she felt.

  “Emily, I’m sorry to disturb you, but this is fairly important. Jasper Jenkins is downstairs.”

  Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “The undertaker?”

  Patty nodded. “He has questions about your brother, dear. He needs to know what you would like him to do.” She waited for an answer. “I’m sorry, but it is crucial that he knows your wishes.”

  “Dusty? . . . I forgot.” Looking up at Patty with a look of incredible despair, Emily groaned. “How could I have forgotten my own brother? Oh, God. I’m awful!”

  Patty knew Emily was nearing hysterics. She had to say something comforting . . . and quickly. “Darling, no, no. This is the way things are always done in these kinds of incidents. You must first deal with the shock, and then you pull yourself together and you take care of the business at hand. You’re definitely not awful. What happened to you was awful.” Patty watched Emily closely, trying to read her reaction. “Now, I’ll help you get dressed and we’ll go downstairs together, and tell nice Mr. Jenkins what you wish to have done.”

  Emily looked like a small, lost child sitting on her bed. Patty would have to be very gentle with her. She chose a soft brown dress, with little pearl buttons. It was pretty but subdued, perfectly appropriate for the day. It was too soon for black, Patty decided.

  She brushed Emily’s black hair until it glistened, and then braided it in one long braid coiled around her head, and fastened it with a pearl clip. On the way out the door, Patty pinched off a blossom from the last bouquet of the season, and pressed it into her friend’s hand.

  “Smell its sweet fr
agrance, Emily, whenever you need courage,” she whispered.

  The sweet blossom helped, as Emily spoke with the undertaker. They both agreed that Dusty needed to be laid to rest as soon as possible. She provided a new suit of clothes and paid for the best casket he had on hand.

  “I want Dusty to be buried in the town cemetery. He saved my life. He was a hero, Mr. Jenkins.” Her throat ached from the constriction of holding back her sobs. Only once or twice did she lose control and allow a tear to escape.

  Mr. Jenkins nodded. He was a professional and he treated all his customers with respect and tenderness. He knew how hard it was for this beautiful young lady to say goodbye to her one and only brother, no matter what the circumstances.

  “Can we do this today?” she asked.

  “I don’t see why not, Miss. He looks pretty good. If it makes you feel better, I think you should know that he died instantly, feeling no pain. He was lucky, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. You’ll come and get me when it’s time?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will.”

  With that decided, Emily was left alone to return to her room, if she chose. Instead, she went to the kitchen. She needed to see Dora and Whiskey. She needed her family of friends about her. As she drew close, the aroma of fresh baked bread assailed her nostrils. It was better than cake, she thought.

  Upon entering the warm and cheery room, she discovered Dora pouring a cup of coffee for a freshly bathed doctor.

  “Blake! I didn’t expect to see you here, but I’m glad you are.”

  “So you finally decided to come downstairs, eh?” he smiled, flashing his warm brown eyes her way.

  “Mr. Jenkins, the undertaker, needed to speak with me about my brother. Oh, Blake. I completely forgot I had to make arrangements today. I was so overcome with feeling sorry for myself, I’d forgotten what was really important.” Her bottom lip started to tremble.