Renegade's Heart - Michelle Kidd (ebook and pdf reader TXT) 📗

to nearby trees. They loomed sullenly overhead as he investigated their gruesome discovery.

What he saw sent a jolt through him—two motionless bodies, a young man on his back and another face down in the dirt. He slid off the horse and approached the first figure. His jaw clenched and unclenched. The boy wasn’t more than sixteen. He’d been shot in the chest. Gray eyes stared at him unseeing. With a reverent silence, he stooped over and closed the boy’s eyelids. Clearly, he was beyond help.

He turned to the second figure, a few feet away, and studied the dark blood pooled around the head and shoulders. Daniel concluded this poor soul had met with a similar fate. He checked for a pulse. His heart skipped. He checked again—barely, but yes, a faint, steady surge of life beneath his hand.

He eased the body over, taking note of the injuries. Wincing slightly, he did not like the look of the wound to the shoulder or the other across the temple.  He frowned as he noticed something else—smooth skin.  Why, the boy wasn’t even old enough to shave! Again, who would shoot two boys? 

Father, what is this?

Daniel’s lips flattened to form a grim line as he noted the loss of blood. He studied the delicate face. A flicker of recognition danced in the back of his mind.  Did he know this lad? He nodded. It looked like the same boy Misty had been talking to the day of the robbery. Was it possible? Had this youth had something to do with the gang of bank robbers?

He thought of the nervous young man they’d met on the street. He was almost sure it was the same fellow. Had he been holding the horses, waiting on the outlaws to run from the bank? Sympathy twisted to anger as he remembered their close call. They had just made it inside the general store before the shots began. Misty might have been injured in the crossfire.

At that moment, he didn’t feel much like playing the part of the Good Samaritan.  He wrestled with his temper.  He couldn’t very well leave the boy here for the vultures and coyotes to finish, but he hated to bring trouble back to his house—he worried about Misty.  Father, what would you have me do? Daniel couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything right. The rough cry of a crow broke the silence of the afternoon.

As he gazed into the sky, snowflakes blew through the air, swirling around in the strong wind. They were in for bad weather—was this his answer?  Best to take care of the dead, then decide what to do with the living. He needed to return home and secure the animals for the night. 

 

By the time Daniel piled the last rock on the shallow grave, the sky had grown much darker. He did his best to dig a place deep enough the wild animals wouldn’t disturb the boy’s remains. Bowing his head, he said a few words over the mound, then turned his attentions to the injured lad.  He checked once more for a pulse.  Yes. Weak, but still there. 

The boy didn’t appear to weigh much. He could easily lift him over his shoulder to mount.  As he picked up the slight figure, the boy’s hat toppled in the dust.  A cascade of red hair tumbled down around her shoulders. Dirt and matted blood clung to the thick strands, but there was no quenching the fire in the pale, afternoon light.  Daniel’s breath caught.  Sweet Lord! It wasn’t a boy at all. 

Despite the filth and grime, she was breathtaking—the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  It shamed him to admit, even lovelier than his own sweet Elizabeth.  How had he been so blind?  Hadn’t he sensed something that day on the street?  He shouldn’t judge, but what self-respecting female rode with a band of outlaws?  His mind raced with questions. It wouldn’t be right to leave her.  He would have to take her back to the cabin, and when she recovered—if she recovered, he’d turn her over to the authorities.  They would handle her.  A woman under his roof presented a whole new set of problems.  He supposed he’d have to sleep in the barn.  It was an idea he did not relish.

***

It was late in the afternoon when Daniel guided his horse toward home.  His mind centered on Misty. What should he tell her regarding the young woman?  He didn’t know if he was doing the right thing.  Snowflakes fell in earnest now, swirling around and transforming the dull ground white.  Despite his misgivings, he would give her the best care.  Why did you bring her here, Father?

An acrid smell of dried blood and perspiration wafted up from the figure slumped in front of him.  He remembered Elizabeth smelling of honeysuckle. He wasn’t sure why he compared the two; this girl was a common outlaw.  No matter how pretty, she was still a thief.  The sooner he patched her up, the sooner he’d hand her over to the sheriff.  She’d never hold a candle to his Elizabeth—Elizabeth, who he’d loved since childhood. Elizabeth, who’d died as a result of his carelessness. Guilt assaulted him as it always did whenever he thought of her.

He lifted his eyes to the pewter skies and tried to form a prayer, but the words refused to form on his tongue. He trusted the Lord in every aspect of his life, and yet he could not bring himself to forgive the decision to leave Elizabeth when she needed him most.  Certainly, God blamed him for not using better judgment.  It was his duty to protect his wife. 

Misty must have been watching from the window. She suddenly darted out the cabin, wrapped in her mother’s old shawl. Her dark eyes grew wide with wonder, and her mouth formed a dainty O-shape as she noticed the strange girl with flaming hair.  “Who’s that, Daddy?”

“Misty, I’ll talk to you later about who she is. Right now I need you to bring me water from the well.  She needs fixing up.  She’s hurt bad.”

The child’s eyes grew cloudy with concern. “Is she going to live?”

“I can’t say, honey. All we can do is try.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Run along, and get the water.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Daniel eased the unconscious woman from the horse and carried her into the house. Gently, he placed her on his own bed.  While he waited for the water, he tossed several logs on the fire and stoked it until it blazed brightly in the room. He noted the delicious aroma of a beef stew bubbling on the stove, and a fresh loaf of bread cooling beneath a crisp, white linen cloth.  It would have to wait.

“I want to help,” Misty stated, appearing by his side.

 “Are you sure you can stomach it?  This isn’t going to be easy.”  He studied his daughter, measuring her with his eyes. His expression softened. “I could use the extra hands if you’re willing.”

Daniel had never treated her as a child—a fact he sometimes regretted, seeing as she hadn’t had much of a childhood. She had grown up taking care of most of the household chores.  There was no woman to do the usual cooking and cleaning.  She even helped him outside with the ranch tasks, working alongside him from sunup to sundown.  He wasn’t much of a farmer and life was hard, but she never complained.

She nodded. “I can do it.”

“Let’s get started then. First, set the water to heat on the stove. We’ll clean her up so we can see what we’re dealing with. Fetch my medical bag and one of your mama’s gowns. She’ll need something to wear once we remove these filthy clothes, and I’ll need a pan of warm water.”

Misty froze, her eyes raised in surprise, but dutifully she ran to do his bidding. 

Daniel pulled out his pocket knife and began cutting through her soiled clothing.  His years of training kicked in.  She was no longer a woman, simply a patient in need of immediate care. Dirt and mud caked the wound in her shoulder. With carefulness and practiced gentleness, he cleaned the area. He saw the bullet and was thankful she had not regained consciousness.  It would be best if she remained asleep while he removed it.

Together they worked cleaning and checking for further injury.  Except for the occasional command to retrieve a needed object, neither said a word. The wound in her temple wasn’t deep—a graze across the skin, but it concerned him she had not responded in any way to their probing. He feared the bullet might have caused more damage than he initially suspected.  What would they do if the young woman never awoke? He brushed the thought aside and picked up his scalpel. 

Daniel’s hand trembled. The metal felt cool against his palm. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump that had formed in his throat. Breathe, he coached himself. He released a shaky breath. You’ve done this a hundred times. He filled his lungs once more and cut the first incision. To his relief, his training took over. While he removed the bullet, his mind swirled with emotions. He made quick work of removing the bullet and sewing the wound closed. When he finished, he stepped back, wiping his brow with his sleeve.

Misty’s eyes glowed with admiration. “You did real good. How did you learn to do that?” 

Her voice surprised him.  He’d forgotten she was in the room.  “What? I—”

“I know you use to be a doctor before I came.” And then, without the slightest bit of disrespect she added. “Why did you give up doctor’n to be a farmer—you aren’t very good at growing things.” She regarded him with innocent eyes.

Daniel’s lips twitched, despite himself as he looked at her scrunched up nose. As usual, her keen observations were spot on. If there had been a woman around, maybe it would have curbed her precocious nature, but he rather enjoyed her refreshing honesty, and seldom thought to correct her for it. “Be that as it may." He attempted a stern demeanor. "Have you ever heard no one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for God’s service?”

“Yes . . . didn’t you read that from Luke just last week?”

“Maybe I’m stretching the meaning a bit, but it doesn’t do any good to look back.  There are things better left in the past.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with—”

“And you don’t need to. It’s not a subject I care to discuss.”

For a moment, she opened her mouth to respond but swallowed her objection.  Instead, she dared touch the long, red hair, gently stroking it as she spoke. “God brought her here.”

Her answer took Daniel by surprise, he rubbed the back of his neck while he thought how he should respond.  “About that . . . Misty, I don’t want you getting attached to her. I have reason to believe she ran with the gang that robbed the bank.  Almost sure of it.” 

“I knew it!” She beamed, with excitement.  “I knew that boy was too pretty.  He wasn’t a boy at all.”  She sobered. “But why would a girl ride with bad men?”

Daniel laid a calloused hand on his daughter's dark curls.  “I’m not sure, darlin’. That’s none of our concern.  I’m going to do what I can for her, and then turn her over to the sheriff.” 

“But—”

“That’s the way it has to be,” he interrupted. “How about you dish us some of the stew? I’m starving. I have chores to finish and then I’ll move my stuff out to the barn. You ladies sleep in here.”

“But Daddy,” she protested. “It’s so cold—you’ll freeze.”

“Sh-h-h, I’ll be fine. It wouldn’t be proper for me to stay under the same roof.” Besides, the more distance he put between himself and the fiery redhead the better. Something told him she was going to be trouble.