Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Doc Burnett pulled open the door and rubbed the bruised shoulder he’d used barricading it against the sheriff. Beyond the campfire, a cowboy in a duster and a wide-brimmed hat was coming across the open space and stopping to look at each dead man.
Caleb strode up, pistol still in hand, and Doc greeted him like the hero he was.
“Damn me, Marlowe, but I knew you’d come. Somehow, I knew it.”
“Ain’t nobody else in there to worry about, Doc?”
He glanced back at the open door. “Well, that’s complicated. But the short answer is that you don’t need to be worried. I’m sure as hell glad you’re here, Marlowe.”
As Doc thanked Caleb, he tried to shake the cowboy’s hand, but Caleb’s right arm was hanging loose at his side. He gestured toward it questioningly.
“Got the feeling knocked out of it when one of them knotheads got lucky and hit my rifle. Busted the damn thing. A good rifle too.”
“Let me look at it.”
“Ain’t nothing, Doc,” Caleb said, grudgingly submitting to a cursory examination.
Nothing appeared to be broken. The impact of the bullet striking the rifle had numbed the limb, but he was certain the feeling would soon return, and he told Caleb so.
When the cowboy coming from the corral reached them, she threw off her hat, and Doc forgot about Caleb, his arm, the sheriff, the outlaws, and everything else in the universe.
“Sheila,” he croaked, his throat tight.
Her face lit up, and there was no hesitation as she ran toward him. The pages of time flipped backward. Doc was once again the tired but happy father, coming up the front steps after visiting with a patient. And she was that little girl in the doorway, delighted that he was home.
“Papa.”
His arms closed around her. He held on to her as she held on to him. She was safe, he kept telling himself. Safe! When Horner told him they had Sheila, the pain that had clawed at his insides was far worse than death.
Doc would have done anything they asked him to do in return for her safety. He couldn’t allow her to be hurt. Even as he told himself that, however, he’d known in his heart that both Horner and Dodger were evil men. Whatever promise they made was sure to be a lie.
He couldn’t believe it. His daughter was here, a bit worn and tired, but she was alive. And they couldn’t harm her. She was out of their reach.
They held each other for a long time, and Doc was not ashamed of the tears coursing down his cheeks. His heart was about to melt.
Sheila clung to him just as fiercely. All the anger she had carried across the years did not vanish, not entirely, but it shifted beneath the simple, astonishing fact of his arms around her. He was real. He was alive. And for this one moment, he was hers again.
Suddenly, she pulled away from him, wiped her own tears away, and then looked at the open door of the shack.
She shot a glance at Caleb. “Dodger. He’s not one of the dead men.”
He was standing a few feet away, discreetly focusing on reloading his pistols. Not an easy task with one functioning hand.
“Do you know anything about a fella named Dodger?” Caleb asked Doc.
“He’s one of the road agents, but he was working for Horner. He rode out a while ago.” Doc gazed at his daughter. “He was going back to look for you.”
Caleb holstered his pistols and motioned toward the shack. “You two stay inside. I’ll take a look around.”
Doc ushered his daughter in. Lucas was sitting beside his mother and holding her hand. Other than a quick look in their direction, the gunslinger didn’t say anything more. He was very pale, and Doc was surprised he was even upright. Mrs. Fields’s eyes were closed.
“Let me look at you.”
He sat Sheila on a barrel by the stove and dragged another over for himself.
He cupped her chin with one hand and gazed into her face.
How many years had it been since he’d last seen her?
Six, seven, eight? His mind was too slow to recall.
She was no longer a child but a young woman in the prime of life.
“I’m sorry I didn’t write to you and say I was coming to Elkhorn,” she told him, taking his hands and holding them in her lap.
“I’m sorry I sent those fellows to the house in the middle of the night.” Horner had tormented him with the story Dodger had related to him about finding her there. He had so many questions for her, but the most pressing ones had to do with her safety. “Did they hurt you? Were you…?”
“No, Papa. I’m fine. Tired from that journey. And damp from going into a river. And still a bit stunned by it all. I can’t believe everything that has happened, but I’m fine. More important, you’re safe and well. I was so worried.”
Her voice was strong, and Doc hoped she was telling the truth. “The two that went to get my things, were they…were they rough with you?”
She held his gaze. “One of them, Wendell, was actually decent with me. Before he was murdered, he was watchful and protective, in a way. I was able to escape when Dodger killed him.”
He wanted to hear the whole story. How she came to be in Elkhorn. How she escaped. How she and Caleb connected. Doc owed his friend a great deal.
But just then, Caleb came into the shack, eyeing Lucas warily. “Who’s this, Doc?”
Lucas struggled to his feet, but he was unable to stand straight.
“This is Lucas Fields,” Doc explained quickly. “He and his mother are the last of the outlaw gang. And the only weapon on them was this.”
He handed him the knife the outlaw had hidden in his boot.
“Dodger dead?” Lucas asked.
Caleb ignored the question, glancing down at Mrs. Fields as Doc continued.
“Dodger was in league with Horner. And he was worse than any of them.”
“Not was, Doc.” Caleb flexed his hand and winced. He must have been starting to get the feeling back in it. “Far as I know, Dodger could be up in one of these hills right now, waiting to get a shot at us. Can’t tell from down here, though. I have to go look around some.”
Doc motioned to the mother and son. “These two need to be operated on. He’s been shot and beaten by the sheriff and his men. Her situation is more critical.”
“I ain’t going far,” his friend replied. “I don’t want to leave you alone here.”
His gaze flicked, just once, toward Sheila. Quick as it was, Doc saw it. A man could hide a great deal behind a hard voice and a gun belt, but not everything.
He started to go out then stopped and nodded toward Mrs. Fields. “The woman is running this outfit? I heard the leader of the gang was some former war hero who had a bone to pick with Wells Fargo.”
Doc was glad Caleb knew something of their history. “It’s a long story, my friend. But I’m sure Lucas will be happy to answer all your questions while I operate on his mother.”
Lucas frowned but nodded.
“And right now, I need to find my surgical case and valise.”
Sheila jumped up. “I saw them by the fire. I’ll get them.”
She started going out, but Caleb grabbed her arm. “I’ll get Doc’s things. It ain’t safe out there with that Dodger fella on the loose.”
Sheila took the Colt six-shooter out of her pocket and waved it at him. “No worries, Mr. Marlowe. I’m armed.”
Pushing past him, she went out the door. Doc looked in surprise at Caleb. “She’s changed a great deal in the past few years.”
“Past few years?” Caleb scoffed. “This past week.”
But there was pride in his voice, whether he meant to let it show or not.
Waving Doc off, he went out after her.