Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Over the years Caleb had been responsible for the taking of more lives than he cared to recall.
Compared to the East, the frontier was a violent place, and he lived the only way he knew how.
That was who he was. That was the world he lived in.
To survive, he’d learned to use the guns that he carried.
More often than not, it wasn’t the fastest gunman who lived, it was the man more willing to pull the trigger.
Many times, he’d killed in self-defense, though not always.
Still, he’d always reasoned that the men he killed deserved to die.
He’d been a lawman on occasion, and that had required the willingness to kill to protect others who counted on him.
More than those he’d killed, however, there were the men he’d wounded with his guns, his blades, and his fists. He himself carried a half dozen scars of various sizes and origins. Knife wounds. Bullet holes. Even a nasty-looking thing on his chest from a hatchet.
The sight and smell of blood, and the sound of pain in a man’s throat were no strangers to Caleb. He often wondered how he’d become numb to them.
Still, helping in the surgery while Tex Washington’s leg was amputated had been difficult for Caleb.
Not so much for what the young cowboy would face, though that was a horror, to be sure.
But for Ortiz. Watching and listening to Duke as he stayed by the nineteen-year-old, as he spoke to him, as he tried to soothe the boy, all the while hanging on to some shred of hope for the life Tex could have afterward, was as painful as it was inspiring.
It reminded Caleb once again the importance of responsibility.
That night, he rode back to the ranch and had a long talk with Henry about everything that had happened. About the loss of their herd. About his plan to search for them with Ortiz. About what he’d seen in that surgery and what he planned to do. About his talk with Malachi Rogers—and Paddy.
He was back at Doc’s house early the next morning.
The mountain peaks to the west were invisible behind a gray shroud, and Caleb knew that snow was imminent.
In spite of it, plans were made that he and Ortiz and Bass would leave the following day.
Doc thought it was too early for Bass to be on the road, but Caleb could see that they’d have to tie the cowhand to keep him from coming.
Ortiz asked Caleb for help finding a place for Tex to stay while they were on the road.
Caleb and Henry’s ranch was too far away from town.
Doc wanted his patient closer, so he could check on him every day.
His practice didn’t have rooms for patients, but he would hold on to Tex for as long as it took for arrangements to be made.
Caleb knew there were plenty of new rooming houses operating in town, but he was also well aware that many people and business owners in Elkhorn weren’t any better than Charlotte Falls when it came to their treatment of folks with darker colored skins.
Still, he was sure he could find some place for Tex.
Before going off in search for accommodations, though, he needed to talk to Sheila about another matter. Mrs. Lewis went up to fetch her and returned, saying the doctor’s daughter had been reading, but that she’d be down shortly. He was to wait for her in the back parlor.
Yesterday, she’d assisted her father in the surgery, and Caleb was fairly certain that it had been the first time she’d ever witnessed an amputation.
Still, he’d been impressed, as he always was, by her strength and courage in a grim situation.
He doubted if anything in her East Coast education or experience could have prepared her for it.
Caleb immediately rose to his feet when she glided into the room.
She looked pale to him, and furrows of strain creased her forehead.
He wondered if she’d gotten any sleep at all.
More alarming, it seemed to him that the spirit and optimism he’d come to associate with Sheila had deserted her, replaced by listlessness.
“Hello, Marlowe. You wanted to talk to me?”
The urge to gather her in his arms was almost overwhelming, but he forced back the desire. What he was considering was going to complicate his life enough. He didn’t need to add anything more to it.
He motioned to an upholstered chair, and she sat down. He dragged a straight chair over and sat close to her. He also didn’t want this conversation carrying all over the house.
“What would you think of me bringing Paddy out to live on the ranch after I get back from this trip with Ortiz?”
“Have you spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Rogers about it?”
“I talked to Malachi yesterday.”
“He’s fine with it?”
“Yep, he said Paddy can stay with them whenever he wants.”
Her face lit up. “Then I think it’s a marvelous idea.”
“That right?”
“I do.” A genuine smile appeared for the first time since she'd entered the room. “I like thinking of you looking to the future instead of...” She stopped herself.
Caleb finished it for her. “Instead of hanging on to the past?”
She nodded.
“I won’t let that go. My mother’s murderer is still out there, and it sits in my craw that I ain’t avenged her death. When the time comes, I will right that wrong.”
“But think about what you’re saying. Elijah Starr is protected by armed men. What will happen to Paddy if something happens to you? He lost his brother. Is he going to lose you too?”
“I don’t plan on dying.”
“I’ve seen your father. I know the violence he’s capable of. You’re underestimating him if you think you’re safe going after him.”
“Starr has set his sights on killing me, regardless of what I do. I know what he did to my mother.” Caleb leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“For him, finding me here was like seeing her climb out of her grave and tell the world what he is.
One of us has to die, Sheila. But it won't be me. I need you to trust me on that.”
She lowered her eyes. For a long moment she said nothing.
Caleb watched her rub her arms, as though a chill had settled over her. The thought struck him suddenly that she wasn't arguing because she doubted his abilities. She was afraid of losing him. The realization tightened something in his chest.
When she finally looked up, sadness lingered in her eyes.
“Paddy will be so happy. He already thinks of you as his family. What made you decide to do it now?”
“Yesterday, watching Ortiz with Tex. They’ve known each other since that cowboy was twelve and went to work for him. Duke is the only family the young fella has. And he thinks of Tex as a son.”
Caleb paused.
“I’ve been thinking of it for a while, but watching Duke made me realize something.”
“What?”
“That a man can spend his whole life waiting for the right time to do the right thing.” He shook his head. “Sometimes, there ain't no right time. Sometimes, you just know what’s needed.”
Sheila studied him carefully. “And you think Paddy needs you?”
“I think he needs a home that’s his.” Caleb hesitated. “And maybe I need him too.”
Her eyes softened. “You would be good for him.”
“Henry thinks so.”
She shook her head. “Henry thinks bringing a buffalo into the house would be a good thing.”
Caleb laughed despite himself. “That ain't entirely fair. He'd want two buffalos.”
She laughed with him, and the room felt lighter. The sound warmed him...a lot.
“I keep thinking about the future,” he said quietly.
She looked at him.
“The ranch. The house. The work still left to do.” He shrugged. “When I picture it all now, Paddy's there.”
He hesitated.
“And so are you.”
The words hung between them. Not bold. Not dramatic. Simply true.
A faint flush colored Sheila's cheeks. For a moment neither looked away.
“Well,” she said quietly, “it sounds as though you’ve already made up your mind.”
“Maybe I have.”
“No, Marlowe.” Her smile widened. “You definitely have.”
Neither of them spoke. The future they'd been discussing suddenly felt less like a possibility and more like something real that was taking shape between them.
Sheila’s smile softened. “And I think Paddy will be very happy about it.”
Caleb felt the warmth flow back into the room.
“Then I’d say it sounds settled.”
“Not entirely. You see, I need to know your feelings on a...well, on a related matter.”
Sheila’s throat suddenly reddened, and as the blush climbed into her cheeks, Caleb looked away, immediately realizing his mistake. How easy it was to be misunderstood! He spoke quickly to clarify.
“Education.”
“Education?”
“Yep. I need to get your opinion on schooling for Paddy,” Caleb explained.
“My father ran a training school in Indiana. Mostly that meant using Shawnee and Kickapoo children as work slaves and as targets for his cane. When it came to me, I was raised having reading, arithmetic, spelling, penmanship, and the rest of it beat into me. More of what I remember came from my mother than the schoolroom, but I still learned enough to help me later on.”
Caleb paused, trying to shake off the horrors of childhood and the memory of those battered children. It was impossible. Some things he’d carry to his grave.
“There’s no way Henry and I can give him the book learning he needs. Now, I don’t know what Paddy’s already learnt. Or if he’s ever gone a day to school.”
“I don’t believe Paddy has ever gone to school,” she replied.
“The little he’s learning now, he’s getting from sitting in on the lessons Mrs. Rogers is providing for Gabriel.
But he’s far behind. When she and I talked about it, she said that’s part of the reason for the way he acts up and occasionally defies her. ”
Caleb was impressed that Sheila had already talked to Mrs. Rogers about Paddy. She cared. That was who she was.
The young boy was totally smitten with Sheila, but that was for other reasons. She paid attention to him, asked questions, and showed an interest in what he did. She listened to him. There was only one person that Caleb ever recalled listening to him when he was a child.