The Daughter - C.B. Cooper (red novels txt) 📗

how this thing plays out. We aint got nothin' but time."
"White Warrior," Buffalo Hump spoke from the doorway, "she's awake and asking for you."
Sam flicked his cigarette into the street and hurried into the saloon, Zeb following on his heels.
He rushed over to where she lay and bent, looking her over.
Her eyes were barely open. She had not an ounce of color in her face, and her lips were turning blue. He'd seen this look before. She was on the verge of dying.
"Angel?"
Her blue-grey lips parted in a half smile, "Sam. It's time."
Sam looked across the table, meeting Zeb's eyes. The old man smiled grimly, shaking his head, before he turned and walked to the bar, to give them a few moments alone.
Sam blinked back tears as looked into the face of his daughter, "Don’t say that, Angel Girl, your not going to…"
"Die." She finished for him. "It's okay, Sam. I've been through this many, many times, and death is nothing to fear."
For some reason, her words angered him. He felt the fire ignite in his belly and spread. Slamming his fist on the table, he yelled, "Stop it! Just stop all of this nonsense! I cant take it anymore!" Grabbing her shoulders, he squeezed hard, making sure that she looked him in the eye. "You are Gracie Ann Walker, your not some, some 'grey angel', you’re my angel. You’re my daughter and I love you, goddamn it, and I aint gonna let you die!"
Tears welled in her dark eyes, spilling past her lashes and running down her face. "Sam—"
"Fine!" he interrupted, "You said it yourself. Gracie's in there somewhere. Now I want you to wake her up so I can talk to her. If your not willing to fight for her life, then she will. I know my daughter, and she does not want to die!" he growled.
Sam felt her slim shoulders sag beneath his hands as her eyes drifted shut, "I'm sorry," she whispered, "But its to late."
"It's not to late!" he sobbed in anguish. "Its not to late, do you hear me!" he shouted.
But it was to late. He felt her breath leave her body as her head slumped to the side.
Releasing his grip on her shoulders, he stared down at her, unable to believe that she was really gone.
Throwing his back, he screamed in sorrow. In his own voice, he recognized the voice of another, it was a sound that had haunted his dreams for many years. It was the sound of that Indian woman's screams as she held her dead baby in her arms. It was a sound that only someone who had lost a child could make. It was the sound of a human heart breaking.
Sobbing, he bent over and cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently.
Between his cries, he heard Buffalo Hump in the background start to sing, his voice low and full of sorrow.
Zeb had walked back over and now placed a loving hand on his shoulder, patting him as a father would pat his son. The action brought a fresh round of tears.
Beneath him, he felt a hiccup, then he heard a big sucking sound as his daughter took a deep breath.
Pulling away from her, he looked down into her face as he blinked back the tears.
Startled green eyes stared back at him.
"Gracie?" he choked.
He watched her face crumple as she cried out, "Ohhh, it hurts!"


The three riders rode down the red street of Red River Station at sundown, drawing their horses up in front of The Red River Saloon.
Sam Sharp smiled at his riding companions. Gracie sat on her big black horse, a white sling holding the arm of her injured shoulder tight. By some miracle, or perhaps it had been a gift from a certain Angel, Gracie had awoke with some of her memories intact. She knew of the relationship between her mother and Sam, and instead of being upset by it, she was thankful. Thankful that she still had one parent who loved her, and thankful that after all of these years, she finally understood why Loretta had treated her so bad. Not that it made it all right, but at least she knew now that it hadn't been her fault. She really hadn't really been an evil child, like her mother had always accused her of being.
Zeb smiled from the back of Ol' Ugly, "I figured we were headed here."
Gracie looked between the two men, her father giving Zeb one of his famous fake frowns. She watched him climb out of the saddle and tie his reigns to the hitching post. There was something going on here that the men weren't telling her.
"Why are we stopping here, Grandpap?"
Zeb grinned, his cheeks heating. He loved it when she called him that. "Yer pa's got a sweetheart."
"Pa?" she asked, but he ignored her, climbing the stairs up to the boardwalk.
Sam had just reached the top step, when he heard a familiar voice, "Well,well,well. What do we have here? You come all the way back here to get yer ass whooped again, Sharp?"
"Howdy, Bob." Sam tipped his hat to the big man. "I aint looking for any trouble, but I got some business to take care of here."
The man stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the saloon— and his true love waiting just beyond the batwings.
"I'm gonna tear—" Bob's words were cut off from the source as Sam threw his weight behind his punch, his fist catching the big man right in the throat and dropping him instantly.
Sam stepped over the writhing man, "It was nice to see you too, Bob." he sang, as he pushed the swinging doors open.
And there she stood, leaning against the bar, looking just as beautiful as he remembered.
Their eyes met, and after a moments shock, she smiled. "Hey there, Cowboy." she called, her voice sultry and sweet.
Marching across the bar, he ignored all the stares he was receiving from the clientel, intent on only her.
She met him half way, throwing herself into his awaiting arms and crushing her luscious lips into his.
Her kiss made him dizzy with desire and he almost forgot his plan, until she smiled up at him with tears in her eyes, "You came back."
He smiled down at her, his heart swelling in his chest. Her beautiful face had never been far from his mind on their bizarre trip up North, and in his spare moments, he had thought of little else. "Of course I did. And I'm here to stay, if you'll have me."
Stepping back, he laughed nervously as knelt down on one knee. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a diamond ring, his hand shaking, "Will you marry me, Libby? Will you be my wife?"
Behind him, just inside the batwing doors, stood the two people that loved him more than anything in the whole world. Each of of them held their breath in nervous anticipation as they waited for her to reply.
Libby gasped, her large blue eyes blinking in disbelief. She didn’t even have to think about it. In their short time together, she had fallen head over heels in love with this complicated, yet simple man. She had witnessed a gentleness that belied his rough and tough cowboy exterior, besides— he had a smile on him that made her toes curl, "Yes!" she cried. "Yes I will!" as she threw herself into his arms, knocking him backwards, both of them sprawling to the floor as she kissed him hard on the mouth.
Shouts and wolf-whistles' erupted in the saloon, while Sam and Libby rolled around on the floor.
Zeb smiled, his blue eyes twinkling with happiness, "Well, Gracie my girl, looks like we'll be staying on a while."
"I think perhaps your right, Grandpap."
As Sam and Libby hauled themselves off of the floor, laughing and dusting themselves off, Zeb and Gracie joined them.
Sam had his arm slung around Libby's shoulder, "Libby, I'd like you to meet my family. You've met my friend, Zeb, but I think of him more like a father. He don’t know it yet, but I adopted him."
"Hells bells, Boy! I'm the one that adopted you."
Sam chuckled, "And this," he said, pride evident in his voice, "Is my daughter, Gracie."
The two women looked each other over. Gracie's eyes shy and a bit untrusting. So far, she hadn't had much luck on the mother front, but Libby's eyes were open and friendly, and when she looked at the bandage wrapped around Gracie's arm, her eyes needled with genuine concern, "Oh, my dear girl, are you all right?"
Gracie blushed, "Yes ma'am, I'm fine."
Libby waved her answer away, stepping forward and wrapping a gentle arm around the girls shoulder, "Nonsense. You come right this way and have a seat, I'm gonna go in the back and fix up some steaks. You all look like you've been to Hell and back."
As she turned away, Sam grabbed her by the waist, "Your not fixing anything, Sweetheart. You don’t work here anymore, remember? Now, take a seat while I go talk to the bartender and order us all a steak."
Zeb rubbed his hands together, "Our first meal as a family. I'm lookin' forward to that."
Sam had only taken a few steps when he heard Zeb's comment and turned back to the table.
He looked at all the people gathered there. Zeb was smiling at Libby, who was already doting over Gracie, brushing the girls dark hair back away from her face with tender, loving fingers. Gracie was blushing, but Sam could tell that she like it.
A calm, happy peace, fell upon him as he smiled, his eyes misting. He had lost his family back when he was only thirteen years old, and finally, after all of these years, he had one again.
Rolling his eyes heavenward, he whispered, "Thank you. My cup runeth over."


Prologue.


September 1865
Utah Territory


Frank Hillbrand watched the girl as she scurried behind the bar, collecting dirty glasses and plates to wash in the back.
"Molly, you hurry up now! And after your done washin' those, get started on that floor in the back."
The girl, her eyes down cast, mumbled something that Frank couldn’t hear from his table in the far corner, before she hurried into the back, her skinny, bare arms full.
Across the table, Bug rubbed his crotch, "Yessiree, I'm gonna git me a piece of that right there."
Frank followed his eyes to a huge fat squaw across the room, setting drinks down at a table where the men were playing poker.
"Jesus Christ, Bug. She's as big as a barn. I bet she out weighs you by two hundred pounds."
Bug smiled, reveiling a mouth full of rotten teeth, "You know that’s how I like 'em. All soft and squishy. A man could sink into all that fat like snuggling into a feather bed."
Frank grimaced, "That’s nasty."
"I know!" Bug cackled, throwing his head back and howling with laughter.
As Frank emptied the last of their bottle into his glass and tossed it back, Bug started going into detail of what he had planned for for the fat Indian— but Frank didn’t hear one word. Instead, he was watching the girl behind the bar. She had another arm full of glasses, clean ones this time, that she was stacking on a shelf right below a huge painting of the desert. Frank wondered briefly why the owner would pick that picture to hang in his saloon, when all a person had to do was walk out the front door and see the