The Western Chronicles
by B L Miller and Vada Foster
21: Night Demons
Rebecca woke in the middle of the night to answer nature's call. When she finished her business and returned to the camp, she noticed Josie thrashing about in the midst of an obvious nightmare.
Genie moved up next to her, gun drawn. "Do you think they'll come?" she asked quietly. Josie didn't offer a glance in her direction, preferring to keep her eyes on the door.
"If they do, we'll be ready for them," she replied. Her hands gripped her peacemakers nervously. Ten horses had been stolen from the ranch in the past two weeks and they were certain that the Double Bar was responsible. Genie's father refused to stand up to the bullies, knowing full well that the McCann's controlled not only the local sheriff, but the district judge as well. Genie and Josie figured that the only way to stop the horse thievery was to stand watch over the herd.
The telltale creak of the barn door being opened drew their attention. Three men entered quietly, taking careful looks at the main house to see if they had been detected. They didn't notice the two teenagers hiding in the loft, guns drawn and aimed at them. Genie's youthful voice filled the air. "Don't move!"
John McCann, the youngest son of the Double Bar's owner, panicked immediately and started firing his gun in the direction of the loft. Reacting quickly, Josie began firing both guns in return. Within seconds it was over. Smoke from the guns hung in the air as both sides inspected the damage. John lay on the ground, bleeding profusely from a mortal wound. She felt the warm stickiness against her arm and turned to see Genie's lifeless eyes looking back at her.
"Well if that don't beat all," the stocky man said as he raised his gun in her direction. "Looks like we done caught ourselves a little gal horse thief. Ah bet old man Sanders will be real pleased to see we done protected his horses from a stinkin' half-breed." He moved closer, knowing full well that her guns were empty. He looked up at the still body next to her. "Done gone and kilt his daughter too. Tsk tsk. Shame she couldn't tell 'em what really happened." He glanced over at the other man, who was busy removing anything of value from McCann's body. "Ain't that right, Bill?"
Josie recognized Bill as one of the Sander's ranch hands. "Ayup, that'd be right, Tom. I saw it all with my own eyes, I did. That damn injun done come in here and tried to take off with the horses. Poor Genie come in to stop her and got a wooden overcoat for her trouble. Done killed Johnny too, damn horse thief."
Tom raised his gun again. "You gonna hang, half-breed."
With speed born out of desperation, Josie jerked the gun from Genie's still hand and fired, catching Tom in the chest. Her second shot struck Bill in the cheek, sending him backward against a wooden post and knocking him out cold. The sounds of approaching ranchers and the elder Sander filled the air. She knew Genie's father hated her for her parentage and had forbade his daughter to see her. It came down to her word against Bill's, and she knew who would be believed. She got up and ran to the far side of the loft, kicked open the doors, and jumped to the ground below. She heard the shouts of the men as she was spotted. There was no choice for her now. Josie ran for the woods, never looking back. The men fired blindly, missing with every shot. "It's that half-breed friend of Genie's," she heard one of them say. She heard the crack of the rifle just as a burning pain seared through her upper arm.
"Josie? Josie, wake up," Rebecca said as she shook her gently. The blue eyes popped open as the gunslinger bolted to a sitting position momentarily disoriented. Her hand reached instinctively to her left biceps, fully expecting it to be bleeding. Rebecca put her hand on Josie's right shoulder. "Hey, are you all right?"
The bounty hunter took in her surroundings and let out a loud sigh. She pulled herself into a cross-legged position and rested her arms on her knees. Rebecca moved and fetched the canteen. It was only then that Josie realized that the young woman had been touching her. When she returned, Rebecca made no move to resume her position, merely handing the gunslinger the canteen and leaning back on her heels. "Another nightmare?", she asked softly. Josie took a deep swallow of water and nodded slightly, her gaze settling on the red embers of the fire. "Do you want to talk about it?" Rebecca ventured. "Sometimes it helps. I mean I know it does for me."
There was a long silence while the gunslinger internally debated the question. "Make coffee.", she twisted sideways and grabbed a branch to stir the fire with. She knew that sleep would elude her for the rest of the night. Rebecca set the pot in the fire to heat up, then settled down an arm's length away from Josie.
"When I was seventeen, I had a best friend...Genie." She said it so softly that Rebecca had to lean forward to hear. "When I first went back to live with my mother, she was the only person who didn't see me as being different just because my father was Cherokee. We became the best of friends; we were inseparable. Genie's father owned a small horse ranch and he found out that a neighboring ranch was stealing the horses, but he was too scared of them to do anything about it." She leaned forward and stirred the fire some more as she collected her thoughts. "Genie and I, we were young, we thought if we just caught them in the act that justice would be done." She snorted lightly. "Instead, Genie was killed, and I became wanted."
"What happened?" Rebecca prodded gently as she poured coffee for Josie and herself. The gunslinger took the mug and stared at the wisps of steam that rose from the black abyss. "One of the men worked for Genie's father. He was helping them steal the horses. It would have been his word against mine." Her voice rang with bitterness. "I had no choice but to run."
Rebecca started to ask a question, but the gunslinger's look made her think twice. They sat there quietly, staring at the fire as time passed. Rebecca's head bobbed as she tried to fight off sleep. "Go to bed, Rebecca." Josie's voice startled the young woman after so lengthy a silence. "Go on, get some sleep."
Josie sat there long after Rebecca was asleep, remembering her brief friendship with Genie and the end of her innocence.
22: Bad Day
The morning sun shone down brightly on the small camp. Josie had already packed their belongings back into the wagon and had breakfast done at which time she felt she had waited long enough for Rebecca to wake up on her own. The gunslinger felt a bit guilty for having woken her up with the nightmare last night. She had hoped that the smell of coffee and sizzling meat would have done it, but the young woman continued to snore softly, her head buried under her blanket in an unconscious attempt to keep the sun out. Josie reached over with the butt of her shotgun and gently poked at the sleeping form. "Rebecca... Rebecca, get up."
A low groan came from under the blanket. Josie poked again, this time getting the result she wanted. Rebecca slowly pulled the blanket off her face and squinted at the brightness. She groggily took the tin cup from the bounty hunter and took a sip, immediately grimacing. She looked over at Josie quickly, afraid that she would be angered, but the gunslinger arched an eyebrow and her face took on a crooked grin. "Coffin varnish?"
"Ugh, coffin varnish is right," Rebecca replied as she drank some more down. "Try using a little less coffee," she said with a friendly smile. "This stuff will put hair on your chest." She swallowed the last of the drink in her mug and rose to her feet. "I have to make a trip; I'll be right back."
"Try not to run into another nest of snakes," Josie warned half-jokingly. Rebecca smiled, but heeded the warning and looked around carefully before choosing her spot. The last thing she wanted to do was to squat near a rattler.
Rebecca returned to the camp and rummaged around in the saddlebag until she found the rags she was looking for. Although Josie said nothing, the young woman blushed furiously as she headed back to the privacy of the bush. She didn't see the gunslinger's small smile of understanding. Of all the things she hated, the monthly menace was the worst. Rebecca knew it would only be a matter of hours before she started getting the painful cramps that accompanied it. Already she felt the start of a dull ache behind her eyes that signaled the beginning of a throbbing headache.
They were on the road less than three hours when the cramps started. As nonchalantly as possible, Rebecca folded her arms against her abdomen and pressed down, trying to ease the discomfort. Josie noticed out of the corner of her eye, but said nothing. The constant jostling from the ride did nothing to help and several times she clenched her eyes tight against the pain. "Want some laudanum?" Josie asked without taking her eyes off the road. Rebecca opened her eyes and looked at the gunslinger.
"I don't know," she replied. In a smaller voice she added, "I've never taken anything for it before."
"Why?", Josie asked evenly as the muscles in her jaw tightened. "Didn't your family know you were in pain?", the touch of anger and indignation in her voice was almost imperceptible, but Rebecca noticed it and instead of flinching, felt a sense of comfort that she didn't understand.
"I started getting these really painful cramps and the headaches when I was fourteen. I told my mother, but...." she turned away, unable to look at her raven headed companion. Josie jerked the reins and pulled the wagon to a stop. She reached over and cupped the younger woman's chin, turning her face to meet her gaze. Ice blue eyes pierced into green.
"But what, Rebecca?" her tone softened slightly, but inside the gunslinger's anger was churning into a steady boil. "But what?"
"Medicine costs money...money we didn't have." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Josie heard the lie all the same.
"Didn't have, Rebecca? Or were you afraid to tell your father?" The visible flinching gave the bounty hunter her answer. She released her hold on the young woman and reached over the seat for the saddlebag that contained their bottle of laudanum. "Take some," Josie said as she handed Rebecca the nearly full container.
"Thank you." She put the bottle to her lips and took a small swallow. Another cramp hit, forcing her to bend slightly while pressing against her midriff with her free arm. She took a bigger swallow. Satisfied that Rebecca had drank enough to ease the pain, Josie put the stopper in the bottle and put it back in the saddlebags. Without another word, she clucked her tongue and sent Flossy into motion.
They passed the time in an amiable silence until breaking for lunch and a rest for the horses, then continued on for several hours. The deep ruts in the road made the ride even more bumpy than usual and Josie began to notice a slight change in the feel of the ride. She was about to pull Flossy to a stop when the right front wheel passed over a small rock. The force of the landing was enough to snap the rusty pin that held the spoke wheel to the axle. With lightening reflexes, Josie reached out and grabbed Rebecca before she could topple off of the bench. The added weight of the young woman caused the gunslinger to slide on the bench, imbedding several splinters into her rear on her way down.
"Damn," Josie swore as she climbed out of the wagon and unbuttoned her britches. Her gun belts dropped loosely to the ground. Rebecca stood up and inspected the damage to the buckboard. The wheel was lying on its side on the ground, firmly wedged under the corner of the wagon. Their belongings were scattered about and both the barrel of coal oil and the box of soap had opened, mixing and spilling their contents all over the bedding materials and clothes. Josie's britches were down around her ankles along with her drawers while she tried unsuccessfully to remove the offending pieces of wood. She turned to look at the wagon and scowled. "Of all the..." Josie shuffled closer to the wagon.
"Josie, why are you like that?"
"Because I have a baker's dozen worth of splinters up my ass, Rebecca!" she growled. She tried again in vain to remove one of them. She bent down and moved her britches out of the way to reach the cuff of her boot. Josie pulled out the bowie knife and handed it to her companion before standing up and turning around. Rebecca suppressed the urge to giggle at the gunslinger's fate.
A continuous stream of ouches and curses filled the air as she
diligently removed every splinter. The none-too-happy Josie 
refastened her clothing and guns
while Rebecca started to remove the gear from the wagon, separating the clothes and
bedding from the other stuff. The gunslinger knelt down next to the axle. "The damn
pin broke." The smell of coal oil and soap mixed together penetrated her senses,
furthering her aggravation. Without thinking, Josie rose and kicked the axle with all her
anger.
Rebecca spun around at the groan of pain in time to see the intimidating bounty hunter grab her foot and hop around in a circle before falling to the ground, cursing the entire time. "Josie? What happened?" she asked as she rushed to her side.
"Oh, I kicked the stupid damned axle," Josie said through gritted teeth as she held her booted foot with both hands. She let loose a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I think I broke my foot."
Despite Rebecca's best efforts to make the boot removal as gentle as possible, Josie's foot was still bumped and jarred, causing her to clench her jaw and take deep breaths to avoid yelping at the pain. Her suspicions were confirmed when her toes finally came free of the leather. The big toe was already a deep purple, the bruising extending all the way to the foot. Rebecca tsk tsked at the broken toe and looked around. "I guess we're making camp early tonight."
"Guess so," Josie said dejectedly.
23: Wagons
"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Rebecca asked. Josie looked down at her from atop Phoenix. Her toe throbbed within the black leather boot. Sleeping the night without blankets to protect from the desert chill didn't help.
"I'll be fine, Rebecca. The river should only be a few hours away, and a town not much further than that." She handed over one of her colts. "Just in case. Don't hurt yourself with it."
Rebecca took the steel weapon. Her fingertips rolled over the pearl handle. "How long do you think you'll be gone?" she asked quietly, trying not to let her fear show.
"No more than two days. I'll get the pins for the wagon and then I'll be back." She adjusted the fit of her Winchester in its sheath before realizing that she was stalling. "Be careful," Josie said gruffly before kicking Phoenix into a gallop, taking her away from her young friend. Rebecca watched her ride away in a billowing cloud of dust.
"You too, Josie," she said softly. She thought about what the bounty hunter had said about the river being only a few hours away. Surely Josie wouldn't mind if she went and washed their clothes and blankets? Smiling to herself at the idea, Rebecca looked for something with which to hold the remainder of the soap.
As expected, the edge of the river appeared within three hours. Josie gratefully dumped out the remainder of the stale water from her canteen and filled it with the cool water from the Rio Grande. After a refreshing soak of her head, the gunslinger ate some jerky and then mounted up and continued on her way. She wanted to get the pin and get back as soon as possible. The constant bumping against the saddle continued to remind Josie of her trip sideways on the wagon bench.
It was a sweat-soaked Rebecca that reached the same spot on the river that Josie had visited hours earlier. With no saddle, the young woman was forced to lay all the clothes across the back of the horse and carry the sack that contained the soap and the washboard in one hand and the reins in the other. Flossy went right to the edge of the water and nickered contentedly as she drew the cool liquid into her mouth. Rebecca removed her boots and stepped into the water, letting the cool mud slip between her toes as the water soothed her aching and hot feet. She let out a sigh of relief and flopped down into the water, giggling slightly. Only after a refreshing swim did she begin her chore. It was late afternoon before Rebecca returned to where the wagon and the rest of their goods were. The length of time required for accomplishing the task had just as much to do with her constant swim breaks as with the stubbornness of the coal oil within the clothes. Once back at camp she draped the clothing and blankets over the sides of the wagon and nearby bushes figuring it would be dry by nightfall.
As night settled on the land, two women laid awake staring at the stars above. Rebecca snuggled under her now clean blanket using the gunslinger's blanket as a pillow. Josie rested her head against her saddle with Phoenix's saddle blanket covering her. The last waking thoughts that both women had were of each other, both silently hoping the other was safe and well.
The sun was high the next day when Josie found a small ranch. The clinking and clanging of metal against metal filled her ears as she headed to a large barn. All the doors were open in a feeble attempt to disperse the heat from the roaring fire. A large, burly man swung a hammer again and again, striking a horseshoe braced against the anvil. His face was covered with sweat and soot, matching his black leather apron. "You a cartwright?" she asked as she stepped into the doorway.
He never looked up from his work, apparently unaffected by a strange woman showing up at his ranch. "Cartwright, smith, whatever needs being done, I guess," he said in a deep voice that matched his build. Josie guessed that he could easily lift a small horse.
"I need cotter pins," she said as she stepped closer, stopping a couple of feet from him. She did her best not to limp and was grateful that he didn't look up. He stopped pounding the shoe and looked up at her. "Over there," he said, pointing to a small box sitting on a nearby bench. "Find the ones ya need; the damn wagons are all different."
It took several minutes for Josie to find four cotter pins that would fit the axles on the wagon. She'd be damned if she was going to buy one, go back, and discover that another one was rusted. A quick mental check of her funds allowed her to grab a few more, just in case. "Six bits," he said when she showed him the pins. Josie put the coins on the bench and headed for the door, again trying not to allow the pain in her toe to affect her gait. She stopped and turned around, her eyes catching a large expanse of sheepskin hanging on the wall. Her thoughts immediately went from the pain in her foot to a pain somewhere else.
Rebecca drank the last of her coffee and stared up at the night sky. She was proud of how clean she had gotten the clothes and blankets. She used several rags to try and clean up the soapy, flammable mixture from the rest of the items and was pleased with the amount of progress she had made. Almost all the rest of the belongings were clean and only the sacks of sugar, salt, and flour had to be discarded. Thankfully, the jerky and the rest of their staples had been spared from damage. The fire burned low, the night warm enough not to require much more. She settled in under her blanket and stared at the stars. Like the night before, she worried about her friend and prayed for her safety and quick return. As also done the night before, Josie was several miles off, tucked under the sheepskin and wishing for the same thing.
It was mid-afternoon when Josie returned to the damaged wagon and her friend. Rebecca let out a yelp of joy and ran over to her, stopping just short and regaining her composure. "How are you?" she said simply, her hand covering her eye to block out the sun as she looked up at the tall gunslinger sitting atop the equally tall steed.
"Fine," Josie answered as she dismounted, making sure her right foot hit the ground first to minimize the jolt to her injured left one. She smiled slightly, happy to see that Rebecca was fine. Her eyes settled on the neat pile of folded clothes and neatly packed piles of supplies. "Rebecca... you cleaned up everything?"
"Well, most everything. I couldn't clean the sugar, salt, or flour, but most all the rest I was able to save."
"Where did you get the water?" Josie asked. Her eyes narrowed when the answer came to her. "Rebecca, did you go all the way to the river?"
She took a step back before answering the gunslinger. "Well...yeah. I took Flossy with me," she decided not to mention that she had left the gun with the wagon. Josie walked slowly over to the pile of clothes and blankets. Her hand glided over the material as a smile came to her lips. She held her spare shirt to her nose and inhaled with only the scent of lye touching her nose. "You did a good job, Rebecca," she said. The smile that came to the young woman's face reminded Josie of a child getting exactly what they wanted for their birthday. She walked over and tended to Phoenix, tossing the sheepskin on the bench of the wagon as she passed.
"What's that for? Oh," she chuckled. "What's the matter, Josie? Don't like the way the bench bites?" She was rewarded with an arched eyebrow before Josie rolled her eyes and shook her head. The pair shared a pleasant evening and slept peacefully knowing the other was just on the other side of the fire.
Josie uttered yet another curse as the board slid off of the stone when she tried to use it as a lever to lift the wagon. "We need something...wider," she said, looking around for something to fit the need.
"Josie, this is the widest stone we could find out here in the middle of nowhere," Rebecca muttered as she wiped the sweat off her brow. "Are you sure there's no other way to do this?"
"What do you want me to do, Rebecca? Climb under the wagon and lift it with my back?" she growled. Three hours of no progress had brought her foul mood out. Every time she got enough weight down to move the wagon upward the board would shift off of the curved stone. None of their supplies could take the strain of holding the weight. She looked down at the wheel stuck under the wagon again and cursed. "You know all these ranches with the wagon wheels out front? Well, they didn't settle because they liked the area. That's where their damned wagon broke down!" Josie growled and smacked her hand against the side of the wagon as she walked around looking once again at their belongings.
"Want a broken hand to go with the toe?" Rebecca mumbled as she repositioned the stone and board. Josie appeared next to her and knelt down, holding the cracked barrel that once held the coal oil.
"I heard that, Rebecca," she said as she placed the barrel under the board. "Let's try this again."
With much grunting and straining, Josie managed to force the corner of the wagon up enough for Rebecca to pull the wheel out from under it. It wasn't high enough for her to fit it to the axle, however. Without thinking, the young woman ducked her shoulder under the corner and pushed up with her legs, helping lift it the final inch or so that was needed to place the wheel on. Josie pressed down on the board with all her might to try and ease the weight on Rebecca's shoulder as she moved the wheel into place. She slipped out from under the wagon and pushed the pin in as far as she could by hand. "Okay!"
Josie eased the wagon back down, cautiously watching the wheel for signs of it coming back off. Once lowered, she moved over and used the butt of her revolver to pound the pin in the rest of the way before twisting it into place. "Whew," she wiped the sweat off of her face with the remains of her torn bandanna. She had hoped that fixing the wagon would be a quick process and they could be on their way early, but now decided that a leisurely break was in order before loading up the wagon. It was nightfall before they reached the river and decided to call it a night.
24 An Old Friend
The next month on the road was rather uneventful, no more accidents and Josie managed to apprehend two more men on her list.
"How much longer before we reach Deadwood?" Rebecca asked as she kicked up dust with her boots.
"At least four more hours. Think of the nice hot bath you can have once we get there." She wiped the sweat from her brow with her already soaked bandanna.
"Are you sure it's safe there? What if someone recognizes you?" She let the concern show plainly in her green eyes. Josie's lip twitched into a small grin.
"Trust me, Rebecca. The codgers that live in Deadwood aren't worried about me." Her blue eyes stared off into the distance as her mind relived memories of her last trip to the mining town. She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear Rebecca's next question. "Huh?"
"I said..." her voice conveyed her annoyance at her words being ignored...again. "If they're not worried about you, then who are they worried about?"
"You'll see," Josie answered with a knowing smirk.
The outlaw's eyes scanned from one side of the street to the other, noting every building and possible ambush point. "That isn't right."
"What?" Rebecca asked. Josie's gaze settled on one building.
"The assayer's office is closed," she said as she climbed down from the buckboard.
"So? Maybe he drank too much laudanum."
"No. This is a mining town, Rebecca. Even if the regular assayer were sick, there would be someone else to take his place. Look around...do you see anyone? It's the middle of the day...where is everyone?" Josie's hand lowered to her side, her thumb resting on the hammer of her Colt. She put her hand on Rebecca's shoulder. "Listen to me. I want you to be quiet and stay right behind me. If I start shooting, I want you to get on Phoenix and get out of here as fast as you can." She shook Rebecca's shoulder for emphasis. "Do you understand me?" She waited until the smaller woman nodded. "Good. Let's go."
They entered the dim saloon and headed for the bar. "Whiskey and a sarsaparilla", Josie said as her eyes moved about the room.
"Four bits," the gruff looking man behind the bar said as he sized up the well-armed woman. The outlaw gave him a dirty look as she fished out two quarters.
"Where is everyone?"
"Dead, mostly. Those that ain't will prob'ly be there soon."
"What happened?" Rebecca asked, drawing a look from Josie. The barkeep set the drinks down, placing the whiskey in front of the more dangerous looking of the two.
"Mostly 'cause a them damn injuns. Savages always attacking us." He took an involuntary step back when he saw the tall woman's eyes narrow at him. Rebecca gave him a similar look, though not as effective, before placing her small hand on the outlaw's forearm. The touch was enough to break through and keep Josie's anger in check.
"Just tell me where I can find Jane," Josie said through gritted teeth. Every part of her body wanted to reach over the bar and grab him by the throat. She dimly realized that it was only because Rebecca was standing next to her that she didn't act on her impulses.
"Sure, sure," he said as he put his hands up in a placating gesture. "She's at the boarding house. Only place big enough to hold all of 'em."
Josie allowed herself one more withering gaze at him before turning. "Let's go." She didn't look to see if the young woman followed her. Once outside, she jumped onto the seat of the buckboard and slapped the reins against the horse's rump even before Rebecca was seated, nearly pitching her from the wagon.
"Josie, are you all right?" She didn't miss the whiteness of the outlaw's knuckles as she held the reins in a death grip.
"The boarding house must be that big one at the end of the street," Josie said, refusing to meet Rebecca's gaze. She wasn't ready to let go of her anger.
"Josie..." Rebecca said as she covered Josie's hand with her own. "He's just ignorant. Come on, let's go find your friend." The outlaw nodded slightly as she released a deep breath.
They entered the boarding house and were both shocked at what they saw. The parlor held no furniture, the floor covered with sick and injured people. Several men still had arrows sticking out of their bodies. Josie reached behind her back and retrieved the small knife from its secret place in her belt. The blue eyes quickly assessed the situation. She looked around for someone healthy enough to help her move some of the patients. Josie spotted a young man, close to Rebecca's age, kneeling next to one of the sick women. "You, come here and help." He looked up at her but made no effort to move. She glared at him and spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. "We need to separate the sick from the injured and start treating them. You don't look like you're sick or injured..." she lowered her tone to a growl, "...so get to it."
"B-but my mother...what would she think if I left her alone at a time like this?"
"What do you think your mother would say if you sat there and made no effort to help others?" Rebecca asked in a tone that filled him with guilt. He bent down and gave his mother a kiss on her sweaty forehead.
"I'll be back soon, mother."
He rose and moved over toward them. "My name is Michael. What can I do to help?"
Josie moved over and knelt next to a man with an arrow sticking out of his upper chest. She carefully removed his shirt while giving instructions. "Rebecca, get as many clean rags as you can. Tear some into long strips. Get water and throw a poker in the fire. Michael, I need you to hold him still while I push the arrow through." The young man swallowed and grimaced as he grabbed hold of the injured man's shoulder. "Okay, now I'm going to rotate him onto his side." As she did, she thought how grateful she was that the man was unconscious. She hoped he was out enough not to feel the pain. She wasn't that lucky. He woke and let out a bloodcurdling scream when she pushed the arrow through and broke off the point. Rebecca ran over and knelt at his head.
"What's your name?" she asked as she stroked his temples.
"W-William." His voice was hoarse from screaming.
"My name is Rebecca. That's my friend Josie and that's Michael. We're here to help you, okay? Now, I want you to lie back and let me tell you a story."
"It hurts," he gasped. Josie rose to check on the poker.
"Shh, it's okay. I know it hurts," Rebecca spoke in soothing tones, encouraging William to relax. "There once was a beautiful young woman....", she continued to weave her tale, completely hypnotizing both him and Michael. Josie reached down and, in one fluid motion, grabbed the shaft and pulled it from the man's body. Rebecca had been watching the outlaw and had her hands on William's shoulders just as Josie reached down. William screamed and continued to scream as Josie cauterized the entry and exit wounds before he mercifully passed out from the pain.
"Now just what in tarnation is going on down here?" The voice was female, albeit a bit deep, but Rebecca would have sworn she was looking at a man. Short dark hair framed a slightly rounded face, weathered from years of hard living and harder drinking. The woman focused on Josie. "You! Damn, I thought you was dead, killed back there with your gang."
"Henry and Jonah aren't dead, Jane, neither am I." Josie rose and gestured at the young blonde woman. "This is my friend Rebecca. Rebecca, this is Martha Jane Canary, better known as Calamity Jane."
Rebecca and Michael struggled to move the sick people upstairs while Josie and Jane tended to the injured people downstairs.
"Are you the only one caring for all these people?" Josie asked as she continued to stitch up a nasty gash in her patient's abdomen. Jane removed a small flask from her belt and took a long pull. "I do what I can. It seems like there's more sick and injured every day. I can't keep up with 'em all.", she held out the flask. Seeing the shake of the outlaw's head, she said, "Suit yerself. You go help someone else, I've got this one."
Josie nodded and moved off to tend to another man felled by arrows. This time the wound was mortal and she knew it. The outlaw found she couldn't meet the young man's eyes as she passed by him in search of someone she could help.
Rebecca and Michael worked together trying to cool down the feverish patients or warm up the ones suffering from chills. "Michael, do you know what these hard red lumps are?" she asked, pointing to a rash of rapidly forming lumps on the victim's arm.
"No," he said as he shook his head. "I've never seen anything like that before." He rubbed his temples. "Ah, I wish there was some laudanum. I swear it feels like there's a herd of cattle stampeding in my head." His hands moved to completely cover his temples as he fell to his knees.
"Michael!" Rebecca exclaimed as she knelt by his side.
"It hurts, oh it hurts," he cried as tears started to leak out from his tightly shut lids. Rebecca moved his hands out of the way and started to gently massage his temples. She moved her thumbs down to massage his upper neck, relieving the tension as she hummed a gentle melody.
"Just relax and think of a time when you were happy. Close your eyes and think of that time. Tell me about that time."
"I was ten, back when we stilled lived in Virginia. Papa had just bought me a horse of my very own," he smiled and leaned back against Rebecca's chest. She continued to massage his temples. "I was a small boy. I couldn't get up in the saddle."
"I know that feeling," she said with a laugh in her voice. "I'm sorry, go on."
"You have a beautiful voice, Rebecca. It goes well with your beautiful face." They exchanged soft smiles of nervousness. "What was I...oh, the horse. I couldn't get up on my own. I remember papa coming over and lifting me up in his arms to put me on the saddle. I never felt more safe, or more loved."
"That's a very sweet story," Rebecca said looking down at him. Michael's head was now resting in her lap. She noticed beads of perspiration on his forehead. "You're warm," she said with concern in her voice. "I mean really warm. I'll get Josie."
"Rebecca, I'm fine." He forced himself into a sitting position, facing her. "Why don't you go see if Josie needs anything and I'll get back to looking after these people."
Josie put her to work cleaning soiled rags and blood-soaked knives. Rebecca estimated there must be at least twenty men with wounds from fighting and thirty men and women who were sick. She had seen at least a dozen of them upstairs while she was looking for rags. Many of them had the hard red lumps on their arms and legs. Some complained to her of pain, and she shared what laudanum they had with the ones who seemed to be in the most pain until there was none left. After that all she could do was provide them with a gentle touch and a soft voice for a few moments of peace. The young woman was so exhausted by the time Josie found a place for them to lay down that she fell asleep immediately, not even taking the time to ask the outlaw about the skin rashes.
Josie removed her gun belts and lay down next to the sleeping form. It wasn't long before she too was asleep. For the first time in almost a month, she was blessed with no nightmares. The gunslinger's dreams were filled with peaceful visions of her life when she was young, just before the war between the states broke out. Swirling images of her mother and her friends sitting in the parlor, speaking of great changes coming, and of laughter and warmth, of love and safety. Josie smiled in her sleep and remained that way all night long.
The next three days were spent in much the same fashion. Soldiers from the nearby fort started to pour in with various arrow and hatchet wounds from their raids on the Indians. Rebecca and Michael continued to care for the rapidly worsening sick people while Josie tended to the wounded. Jane alternated between the two floors, doing her best to calm and comfort as many as she could. She realized that the young girl and man didn't know that the people they were treating were suffering from smallpox. The sharpshooter deliberately kept the information from Josie as well. She needed all the help she could get and it was too late to protect them from the contagious disease now. Either they got it or they didn't. With all the wounded soldiers coming in, it was easy to keep the outlaw busy downstairs. At night, both Josie and Rebecca were too tired to sit up and talk. They merely curled up in their corner of the room and slept. Neither woman had really spoken to the other since they first arrived. Rebecca spent most of her time upstairs with the sick while the outlaw still hadn't made it up there yet.
Carrying two cups of coffee, Rebecca made her way over to where Michael was standing, staring out the window. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Michael? Are you all right?"
He turned his tear-streaked face to see her. "Oh Rebecca. It's Mother...she, she..." He broke into sobs as he pressed his face against her and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce embrace. Rebecca set the mugs down on the nearby windowsill and guided him to the floor. She rocked him in her arms as he desperately sought comfort from the pain in his heart. She noted that his forehead still felt like it was on fire. Rebecca took one of his hands in hers and took a good look at it. Multitudes of the bright red lumps were forming on his wrist and lower arm.
Rebecca went downstairs and found Josie changing a soldier's bandages. "Josie, I need to talk to you." She waited until the bandages were changed and led the outlaw outside.
"What's going on?" Josie didn't like the concerned look on her young friend's face. Rebecca looked downward, feeling guilty for not telling her sooner.
"Josie, the sick people upstairs...they've got something contagious."
The outlaw bounded up the stairs two at a time, glad that Rebecca was behind her and unable to see the stricken look on her face. Her worst fears were confirmed when she saw Michael crying over the dead body of his mother. His bare arms clearly showed the signs of the pox. She put her arm out to stop Rebecca from entering the room. "No."
"Josie, I have to check on Michael," she said as she tried to move past the outlaw.
"Rebecca, it's too dangerous," Josie said as she grabbed both of the young woman's upper arms. "Don't you understand? It's smallpox, Rebecca." Her grip relaxed when she saw the shocked expression on her friend's face.
"No.…" She looked up at Josie with disbelief. "But Michael, he's so young."
"Smallpox doesn't care how old you are, Rebecca." She allowed a brief flash of concern to cross her normally stoic face as she pressed her hand against the young woman's face. "How do you feel?"
Rebecca smiled at the gesture. "I'm fine, Josie. Look, if I was going to get it, I would have it already," she said, feigning a confidence she didn't feel. They looked at each other seriously, their eyes conveying the unspoken fear.
Josie, Rebecca, and Jane sat around a small kitchen table. "Why didn't you say anything, Jane?" the outlaw asked with a tone that expressed her disapproval.
"By the time I realized you were here, you both had already been exposed to it. T'wernt nothing I could've done 'bout it," she said, settling back and rolling herself a cigarette. "You see what I'm up against. Half those men would've been dead if you hadn't stayed to help. And that little girl of yours was a big comfort to them as well. She's a real huckleberry above a persimmon," Rebecca smiled at the compliment from the sharpshooter. Jane noted to herself that it seemed so odd that an angel like that was riding around with her old partner in crime. Josie was not one to ride with people whenever possible, and certainly not with such a fresh-faced young woman.
"Rebecca has a way with words." Her blue eyes turned to capture the young woman's gaze. "She has a...calming effect on people. It's a rare quality." She turned back to her old friend. "You should have told me, Jane."
"There's nothing we can do about it now, Josie," Rebecca said as she rose from the table. "I'm going to go check on Michael," she said, holding up a hand to block the outlaw's protest. "Josie, he's all alone and he needs me. I'll be fine."
"Josie, I'm sorry," Jane said as she poured them both another cup of coffee. "She's a beautiful girl. I'm sure she'll be fine."
"I hope so. Ugh, Jane, stop trying to kill me with your coffin varnish," she said as she took a swallow of the overcooked coffee.
Josie went upstairs two hours later to fetch Rebecca for bed. With the influx of sick and injured, they could both use the extra rest. Opening the door to the large room, she was surprised to see how many people were there. She had assumed that there had been only a dozen or so people up there. A quick mental count of the dead that had been brought down made her think that there were only a few remaining. She now realized that there were close to a dozen still there. Pulling her bandanna up over her nose and mouth, she entered.
Rebecca was kneeling next to Michael's bed holding his hand within hers. Josie stood back and leaned against a post, close enough to hear but not close enough to be noticed.
"...and the rabbit slipped into the hole and escaped from the hungry wolf," she finished her story and ran a wet cloth across his burning forehead. "How was that?"
"Thank you, Rebecca," he said as he reached up and touched her cheek with his fingertips. "You're a very beautiful creature. I'm sorry."
"Shh, you need to rest now." She moved a lock of his dark hair away from his eyes. "Everything will be fine, just have faith."
"No..." he gasped. "I know, Rebecca. I know what's wrong with me."
"Then you also know that you need to rest. You can survive this, you know." She maintained her low, soft tones as she tried to lull him back into sleep. He brought his free hand up and grabbed her wrist.
"Don't leave me, Rebecca. Please...stay and tell me another story."
Josie closed the door behind her quietly. She swallowed and closed her eyes as she thought about how hard his death was going to be on her young friend. A small voice in the back of her mind asked her if she could handle losing Rebecca. Josie pushed the thought out of her head and purposefully headed down the stairs to their sleeping area. Knowing that thoughts of a peaceful sleep were hopeless, she turned and went to check on the patients.
Rebecca never left his side as the high fever gave way to delusional ranting and the night chills left him a helpless shell of the once vibrant young man. She stayed there telling her stories or quietly holding his hand. The red pox marks now covered his entire body, signaling just how close the end really was.
"Rebecca, I...I can't see...everything's black," he cried, his voice hoarse and low. The strength he used to move patients was now all gone, taken by the vicious disease. Tears streamed down the sides of his face; she brushed them away with her fingers.
"It's okay, Michael. Just rest now. It's going to be okay." Her voice cracked as she choked on the truth that she could no longer ignore.
"I know, Rebecca," he said as he reached up with a shaky hand to touch her face. "So beautiful. I'm so sorry, Rebecca...so sorry." His hand fell onto his now still chest.