Mose drove the four-up like he had just robbed a bank and there was a posse on his tail. His passengers grabbed hold of their seats, their hats, and anything else they could reach, and bounced around like marbles in a can.
Andy spotted the stage first, coming over the rise at the top of the hill. The road led down to the house and at the rate Mose was going, they’d either be here in two minutes, or fly off the road before then.
“Slim! Mose is comin’!” Andy jumped down from the corral fence and ran to the front of the house where Mose would eventually pull up. He turned and saw his brother come out of the barn. “He’s flying like a bat outta…”
“Andy!”
“…a cave.” Andy turned around and grinned at his older brother.
Slim joined him in front of the house and put an arm around Andy’s shoulder. They had made peace with each other. They both still had sore spots, but the pain was lessening as the weeks wore on. Slim had not hired a new hand yet. Money was tight and Andy was pitching in more than he had before. Slim allowed it as long as Andy kept up his grades.
The work was hard, the hours were long, but Slim figured by next summer, he’d be able to afford another hand.
Mose pulled the four-up to a stop directly in front of the house. “Mose, what the heck are you doin’?” Slim asked as the first passenger shakily exited the coach.
Mose jumped down and assisted the older man down from the coach, and the others followed, all in varying degrees of dishevelment. None of them spoke.
Mose addressed each as they came out of the coach. “Sorry, ma’am—crazy horses—You okay, sir?” Jonesy had come out and was escorting the passengers inside for some coffee and sympathy. Once they were out of earshot, Mose grabbed Slim’s arm and pulled him aside.
“Slim. I got a letter for you.”
Slim ground his teeth. “Mose, did you just do that to deliver a letter? Why you…”
“It’s about Jess.”
Slim stopped in mid-epithet. Hearing the word ‘Jess’, Andy came over and stood beside his brother.
“What is it, Mose?”
“It’s a letter, Andy.” Mose’s wirey eyebrows shot up in excited anticipation. He rummaged around in his pockets as he tried to locate the envelope. “Sheriff Corey received it this morning. It was just addressed…ah! Here it is!”
He pulled a crumpled, yellowed letter from his inside vest pocket, smoothed it on his thigh, and then handed it over to Slim, moving closer so he could read over Slim’s shoulder.
Slim opened the envelope. It was addressed anonymously to the sheriff of Laramie, Wyoming. It was from somewhere in California. Slim couldn’t make out the name of the town.
Mose was close enough to read the printing himself. “Mort wanted to come give it to you himself, but he had to ride over the county seat to take a prisoner. He shore was excited though.”
Slim read silently, a smile spread quickly over his handsome face. “It’s Jess.”
Andy crowded Slim, trying to see over his arm. “It’s from Jess?”
“No, it’s from a…a Mother Agnes, Abbess, Our Lady of Hope. She says Jess is there. He’s very ill,” he said, reading directly from the letter, “and we found a letter in his pocket addressed to him in Laramie, Wyoming. We were hoping that the poor man had some family there who would want to know where he is. He is not able to tell us anything about himself, and we are praying that some family will come forward. He is in God’s hands and we pray that God’s will be done. If God takes him, we pray that he will not be only among strangers when he is called, but that those who care for him will be at his side. Please, do you know this man from your community? Please advise soonest. Sincerely, Mother Agnes, Our Lady of Hope Children’s Home and Refuge, Everafter, California. October 4, 1871.”
“Slim! That’s last week!”
“I know, Andy.” Slim folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “Mose, Andy, can you change the team by yourselves? I’ve got to get ready.”
“You goin’ ta California?” Mose asked.
“You bet I am. Andy run in the house and tell Jonesy to fix me some grub for the trail. I’ll have to find out where Everafter is and then get a train as close as I can, then…”
“What’re ya waitin’ for? Git movin’ boy! Slim, you need to get to Cheyenne to the depot. There’s room in the stage.”
“I can catch the train at the crossin’”
“Yeah, but they’ll be goin’ to Sacramento. What if that’s the wrong end of California?”
“I’ll just have to take the chance, Mose. If it’ the wrong train, they’ll be able to put me right when we get to Salt Lake.
“Slim, I want to go with you,” Andy said, tears welling up in his eyes.
Slim put a hand on Andy’s shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “I know you do, Andy, and I want you to go, but someone has to stay here and take care of the relay station. Jonesy can’t do it without you. Ben might be able to help some, but he has a job and he can’t be here every day. You understand?”
Andy tearfully nodded. “You just bring him home, Slim.”
Chapter 17
The next time Jess awoke, it was to singing. He lay still a moment before he opened his eyes, just listening. It was heavenly. Interspersed with the singing was a din of metallic rattles and bangs. Kitchen sounds. Someone was in the kitchen singing.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself inside what appeared to be a tent. A blanket had been suspended above him on a light wooden frame and it completely surrounded his upper body down to his waist. To his side was a large iron teakettle, which was gushing a hot steam that smelled pungently aromatic. He was covered in sweat.
He reached up and wiped the moisture from his eyes and then reached out to part the blanket. A gush of cool air entered the opening. It felt good. Seeing no one in his room, he let the fabric drop back, too weak to keep his arm up and holding it. He thought about calling out, but his throat still hurt too badly to make the effort. He lay back and waited. Someone was sure to come to check on him sometime.
It wasn’t long before someone entered his room humming. The blanket was drawn back and a gnarled hand reached in for the teakettle. Jess could see it was an older nun, not the one he had seen last time. She must have noticed he was awake because she pulled the blanket back all the way.
“Well, look who’s awake. So good to see you, young man. How are you?”
Jess nodded rather than answer.
“You’ve had us all quite worried. Oh my yes, you have no idea.” She quickly and efficiently pulled the overhead blanket down and removed the teakettle to the floor. “I think that’s enough of that for now.” She saw him following her with his eyes. “Oh, that? It’s eucalyptus leaves boiling in camphor and water. Inhaling that steam helps you breathe. We’ve been doing it four times a day for several days for you. You’re looking much better, I must say.”
She casually reached over and drew his blanket further up his chest. “Now, you must eat something. I’ll be right back,” and with that, turned on her heel and strode purposefully out of the room, her short, stout frame straight as an arrow beneath her flowing robes.
As soon as she had bustled out and turned to the right, presumably toward the kitchen, Isabelle scooted in from the other direction. “Jess!” She skipped in the room and perched on the bed right next to him. “How are you? You look so much better! You were so sick and I was so scared, but you look better now. Are you feeling better? I mean really?” She took a breath.
Using the quick break in the verbal stream, he interjected, “Whoa, pardner. My ears can’t listen as fast as you’re talkin’.” He smiled. His voice was still horribly raspy and it hurt to speak above a whisper, but he was happy to see his little friend again and wanted to tell her so. “I’m glad to see you, but should you be in here?”
Isabelle looked quickly to the door. “Well, I wasn’t told specifically to stay out. Not today anyway,” she said with a sheepish grin.
“What time is it?”
“I think it’s about ten in the morning.”
“What day is it?”
“It’s Sunday!”
He nodded and closed his eyes. Since he wasn’t real sure what day it was last time he even cared what day it was, it really didn’t matter at this point. When he opened his eyes again, Isabelle was looking at him intently.
“What?” he asked.
She dropped her eyes and blushed, to her mind, the most horrid inconvenience of being a pale skinned redhead. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry about?”
“You must think I’m awful silly. I don’t even know you, and you don’t know me, but…”
“You feel like we’re friends.”
There was more to it than that in Isabelle’s head, but that was good enough for now. “Yeah.” She nodded. In truth, she was feeling rather possessive and resented when she was sent out of the room. She knew the nuns thought she shouldn’t see a grown man in his…state, but she found him, darn it!
In truth, she had sneaked in here several times late at night over the last few days and sat with him. She would sit on the bed and hold his hand and watch him sleep. She felt like she knew him, although, in truth, she knew she didn’t. She just couldn’t help but believe he was a good man, and besides, she loved looking at him.
The older nun bustled in carrying a tray covered with a red checked napkin. “Isabelle! Aren’t you supposed to be in Sunday school class?”
“No, Mother, we just finished. I came to see how my friend is doing.” She hoped desperately that the Reverend Mother wouldn’t send her away. She stood up and reached for the tray. “Here, I can do that, Mother.” Without waiting, she took the tray and sat down with it on the side of the bed and laid the tray on Jess’ lap. “We haven’t had a chance to visit,” she said, not turning around as she busied herself with the tray.
Mother Agnes smiled indulgently and clasped her hands together. “Alright Miss Isabelle, you may stay and help our patient eat, but you must also allow him to rest.”
The relief in Isabelle was visible, she exhaled the pent up breath she had been holding and briefly closed her eyes. Jess could see her tight shoulders relax. Isabelle put down the fork she had picked up, stood and hugged the Reverend Mother tightly. “Oh thank you, Mother.”
“Not at all, my dear. Now don’t keep him up too long.” She shifted her gaze to Jess, “Young man.” Her crisp English accent and snappy delivery made her sound officious, but Jess suspected there was a soft heart under that severe black habit.
“Ma’am?” He straightened involuntarily.
“You be sure and eat everything on that tray. You need your strength.” She turned and started toward the door. Without turning around, she said briskly, “We shall talk later,” and she was gone.
Jess stared after the tiny, formidable woman. “Is she the boss-lady?”
“She’s the director of the orphanage and the Reverend Mother of her Order. Mother Agnes.” Isabelle picked up the fork and started to scoop up some scrambled eggs.
Jess reached out and gently took the fork from her. “I can do that.”
She looked disappointed, but handed the fork over without comment.
“How’s my horse doing?” he asked, as he put a forkful of eggs in his mouth.
“Oh he’s just wonderful. I hope that you don’t mind that I ride him some. I thought he needed some exercise.” In truth, she had done more than just ride him. She had put three or four of the smaller children on his back and led him around the grounds. He seemed to love the attention and the children always squealed with delight. There were a few horses at the orphanage, but they were workhorses, for pulling wagons, not meant for riding.
He shook his head and continued eating. He was hungrier than he thought and the food was very good. “No, I don’t mind,” he mumbled with his mouth full.
“He has been eating very well and I doctored a few little scrapes that he had, and I’ve brushed him every day,” her eyes sparkled as she recited the list of chores she had performed. “What’s his name?”
“Traveler.”
“Hmmm, Traveler, what a nice name.” She sat and watched him eat for a few moments. His hands shook, and she could tell he was very weak. He held the fork awkwardly, but he managed it nevertheless. His breathing was a bit fast and he was still horribly pale.
“How’d I get here?” Jess was the first to break the silence.
“Oh, that. I couldn’t get you up on your horse that day, so I found a stump and climbed up on him myself, then I rode as fast as I could back here and told Mother. She and Sister August and Sister Paul came out with a wagon and we put you in it and brought you here. They wouldn’t let me help once we got you here, but Sister August took the wagon into town and brought the doctor back. He was here for a long time, and then he left.”
Jess looked at her sadly. “I don’t remember.”
“I know. You were so sick, Jess. Sister Michael was afraid that you would die. She didn’t say it, but I know she thought it. She’s a nurse, you know. She was with Sheridan in the war. I remember her telling me stories about the war. So many men died and it was mostly from infection. Pneumonia was rampant as well, so she has seen it many times.”
Jess nodded as he continued to eat slowly. He was tiring fast. “Weren’t you afraid you’d get in trouble?”
Isabelle looked down at her hands as they fidgeted with her braid. “Yeah. I thought about it for about a half a second. They’d know I was out there and where my secret place was, but I couldn’t just leave you there, and I knew I couldn’t take care of you myself.”
Jess put down the fork and reached out a hand to her. She took it and covered it with her other small hand. “Thank you. You’re very brave and very smart and I’m a lucky man that it was you I ran into.”
Tears began to well up in her blue eyes. One escaped down her freckled cheek and Jess reached over and swiped at it with his thumb. After a moment he released her and continued eating a few more bites, but then stopped suddenly, his hands dropped to his lap. His energy faded quickly. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes as he lay back into the pile of pillows on which he was propped.
He hated this feeling. He’d never been this sick and the feeling of helplessness was unfamiliar and unpleasant. He was grateful to the nuns for their help, but he didn’t even want to think about the intimate details of what they had done for him. He tried to tell himself they weren’t women, they were nuns, kinda like nurses. It was okay for them to…
He felt Isabelle lift the tray from his lap and heard her move across the room and set it on the dresser. She came back and sat back on the bed. He was too tired to open his eyes.
“Would you like me to read to you?” she asked hopefully.
His eyes opened a slit and looked at her from under long dark lashes. He nodded slightly. He wasn’t really up to listening to her, but he couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings.
She went to the dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a book that she had obviously put in there earlier. She came back and resumed her perch on the edge of the bed.
“I read this to you the other night, but I don’t think you heard. It’s called Oliver Twist. It’s about an orphan.” She looked down at him. He still watched her with half opened eyes.
He reached out weakly and held her braid in his hand where it rested across her leg. “Us orphans gotta stick together,” he said, barely a whisper.
She looked questioningly at him, but didn’t ask. She’d ask him later when he was feeling better.
Jess still didn’t hear about the orphan Oliver Twist. He was asleep before the orphan Isabelle finished the first page.
Chapter 18
Johnny had no trouble finding Virgil McCoy. He knew the man’s habits. When he was preparing for a job, he absorbed the local color. What better place for color than the local saloon. Even this early in the day, Johnny knew that Virgil would be in or near the saloon.
Johnny entered the establishment as though he always frequented saloons at ten o’clock in the morning. He nodded to the barkeep who sat at a table doing the books, and asked for a cup of coffee. The barkeep grunted and went behind the bar to pour.
Johnny saw Virgil at the corner table and made his way over to him, sitting without being invited. McCoy’s eyes had followed him across the room and he acknowledged Johnny with a quick finger to the brim of his hat.
McCoy sat alone with a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. “Have a seat, Madrid,” he said to the already-seated Johnny.
“Don’t mind if I do, Virgil,” Johnny said as he removed his hat.
McCoy smiled, his teeth white and straight. Johnny remembered another thing Virgil was vain about was his teeth. He was always brushing them and tooth picking them. He leaned in close to the table, the smile never left his face. “You call me Virgil agin’ an’ I’ll kill ya.”
Johnny smiled a wide-open smile and laughed. “Woo-ee, you ain’t changed a bit, V---.” He looked up quickly and corrected himself. “McCoy.”
They both laughed and McCoy extended his hand across the table. Johnny shook it and they both continued to laugh. The scene was a repeat of the first time they had met.
The barkeep came over and set a steaming mug of coffee in front of Johnny. He picked it up and sipped it, giving McCoy the chance at the first move.
“I saw you in the hotel last night. Wondered how long it’d take you to come see me. Need work?”
Johnny’s mind raced. If McCoy had seen him, he’d probably seen Scott too, may even have overheard them. He decided quickly to come as close to the truth as he could.
“Well, I wasn’t here to take work, but if it’s offered…”
“What are you here for?”
“Came to meet my brother. Had a little family business to take care of.”
“You don’t have no brother!” McCoy swiped the air and slammed his hand down on the table, laughing. His incredulity relieved Johnny. At least he didn’t have an inkling about Scott and the family.
“Well, V--,McCoy, I didn’t when I saw you last. Do now though.”
“Well, ain’t that just a thing.” McCoy shook his head and sipped his coffee.
They sat in silence for a few moments and sipped their coffee.
“I could use some work,” Johnny said flatly.
“You’re a long way from home.”
“Yeah, and it took all I had to get here. Now I want to go back south. I need a stake.”
“Don’t like it up here in the northern climes, my friend?”
“Let’s just say I got things to take care of down in Nogales. I heard you’re hirin’ for something going on here. What is it?”
“Ain’t me hirin’. It’s a man named Elizondo.”
“Elizondo. Don’t b’lieve I know him.”
“You wouldn’t. He’s from back east. He’s been around here and all over for years. Big time businessman. Got in his head to be a cattle baron. He thinks big.” McCoy set down his coffee cup and wiped his mustache smooth with his fingers.
“What’s the job?”
“Ain’t for me to say, Johnny my boy. I’ll take you to meet him. The rest is up to you.”
“Fair enough.” Johnny grabbed his hat and followed Virgil, tossing a dime on the table.
