Chapter IX
Millie awoke to the smell of fresh coffee boiling on the campfire and bacon frying in a skillet. The sun was breaking over the horizon as she rolled over in her blankets and watched Bohanin.
“You're up early,” she said with a smile.
“Four o'clock every morning for the last thirty years. Old habits are difficult to break,” Bohanin said. “The coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”
Millie started to sit up but flinched to a sudden sharp pain in the center of her back.
“Sleeping on the ground isn't the most comfortable,” she said with a grimace.
“It'll make an old man out of you before your time. Take it from me,” Bohanin said.
Millie sniffed.
“What is that smell?” she asked.
“Coffee and bacon, I suppose,” Bohanin said.
“No, that other smell. That medicinal odor.”
“You caught me young lady. That's horse liniment.”
“Horse liniment? Is there something wrong with the mare?”
“Nope, I didn't use it on the horse. I used on my knees.”
“Your knees! Whatever for?”
Bohanin stretched by the campfire. His joints cracked and popped softly as he straightened himself.
“I'm full of arthritis. That liniment is about the only thing that will get me moving in the mornings, especially when I've slept on the ground.”
“But, horse liniment? Surely you could find something better than that.”
Bohanin poured a cup of hot coffee into a tin cup and brought it to her.
“That's what Doc Whitehead says. But no matter what he suggests, none of his cures work half as well.” Bohanin fetched his own cup and took a sip by the fire.
“That is unless you consider this potion.”
“What's that?” Millie asked.
“Pure D, plain old Kentucky bust head,” Bohanin said before taking another swallow. “Eight-year-old Kentucky Bourbon. Believe me, it's better stuff than he normally prescribed in his office.”
“It's certainly better than horse liniment,” she said examining the bottle.
“Actually, no. One doesn't seem to really work very well without the other. If there was a way I could patent the combination, I believe I would have found my fortune.”
“I believe I'll stick to coffee.”
“You do that, little lady. But thirty years from now, you remember this cure. It may come in handy when your joints are stiff and sore and I'm a resting in my grave.”
“I don't like the thought of that much. You in your grave.”
“My, we're serious this time of the morning. The only thing worse than dying old, is dying young. Take that pan of water over there by the buggy and go off to do your morning chores. When you return, I'll have some fresh fried bacon ready for you to start the day.”
“Captain Bohanin. You're embarrassing me,” Millie said.
“Don't be. We'll be together for at least three more days. False modesty and fear of improprieties will only cause you discomfort. I ain't going to worry about telling you when I need some privacy and I don't want you concerning yourself about it either.”
After their breakfast, they gathered up camp and hitched the mare. Within a mile they had fully resumed their conversation, laughing and joking, telling stories, and sharing the scenery.
Starbuck had given up on Nobel. It was just as well. Doing the job himself suited him just fine. He wanted to take his time with the woman. Nobel would only cause problems.
Starbuck kept his horse near the arroyos and gullies a mile behind the buggy. Bohanin and the woman were easy enough to track.
They made good progress. It was cool and the mare seemed in excellent form. A two hour rest at noon went smoothly and, toward evening, Bohanin reckoned that they had made over twenty miles. They camped in the breaks of an old river wash with rock ledges on three sides of them. It was much more pleasant than the open plains. Millie grew quiet as evening neared. During their meal she hardly spoke at all.
“Something troubling you?” Bohanin asked.
“It's nothing really, Captain. Probably just a change in chemistry. You know, from the baby and all,” she said.
“No, I guess I wouldn't. I've little experience in such doings. Is there anything that I can do?”
“Yes there is. Would you mind very much just holding me, in your arms.”
Bohanin was surprised.
“Oh heavens, Captain. You're the perfect gentleman. I hardly think that I'm in any danger. It would be nice, especially tonight.”
Bohanin placed his arm about her shoulder.
Millie sobbed as she placed her head upon his shoulder.
“I've made such a mess of things. First, I get involved with Logan Bochart and now you. Captain Bohanin, you are the kindest man I've ever known. You worry about my comfort, cook my food, tell me stories, haul me across Colorado, and even have a pan of water prepared for me in the morning. I've never met another man quite like you. I'm just sorry that I've put you through all this.”
Bohanin gently patted the woman's shoulder.
“It was my choice. I'm not doing anything that isn't a pleasure.”
“It isn't fair. This isn't your problem. I had no right to get you involved. You're making a great sacrifice for a woman you hardly know.”
“That may have been true in the beginning. But it certainly isn't true now. I've become quite fond of you.
Millie turned her tear-filled eyes to his. “Is that all it is for you, Captain?”
“Yes, that's all it is,” he lied.
“I don't believe you. I think I'm falling in love with you and I think you're falling in love with me.”
“You're just upset. You have no idea of what a burden I would be for you,” he said.
She gave him a long and lingering kiss.
Bohanin resisted slightly then returned her kiss.
“That's what I thought,” she said softly. “You do care. You care a great deal.”
“Yes, I do love you. I love you very much. I would like nothing better than to share my life and my bed with you.
”
“But?” she asked.
Bohanin smiled. “It isn't possible and you know it. It's too late. Time and fate have played a cruel joke on both of us. Remember what I said about the passion of the moment? This is one of those moments. In a few years, or even a few months, I would become something that you wouldn't like very much. You would be a young woman full of womanly wants and all you would have is a tired, used up old man. It would be my greatest act of selfishness.”
“We could have each other now.”
“That would be your greatest act of selfishness. It would only increase a hunger in me that I could never satisfy. I would be left with the cruel memory of a love I was never able to fulfill. As much as I would love to be with you, I would only be going through the motions. If you think anything of me at all and I of you, it will end here with our friendship in tact.”
“If only it were different,” she said.
Bohanin held her closely and smiled. After a while, Bohanin suggested that they get some sleep. Millie nodded and gave him another kiss, this time gentle and loving, without the passion but still with deep affection.
When he was sure that they were both sleeping, Starbuck drew his knife and revolver. He slowly walked toward Bohanin. He had watched the old fool and the woman go through their antics. After he finished with the old man, he would give the whore what she wanted. He'd give it to her, more than once. He noticed the Winchester beside Bohanin's hand. Starbuck switched hands, the knife in his right, the revolver in his left.
Bohanin's eyes came open and the Winchester came up. The muzzle of the Winchester flashed and tore through Starbuck's chest. He dropped his knife and struggled to hold onto his revolver. He tried to lift his arm but it felt like a stone anchor was attached.
Bohanin sat up in his bedroll and levered another round into the Winchester, “What do you think of that, bushwhacker? I've been stalked by Injuns all my life. Did you really think some spur jingling piece of trash like you could get the drop on me?”
Starbuck forced his arm to rise and thumbed the hammer.
Another round flashed from Bohanin's rifle.
“Millie. Stay back,” Bohanin yelled.
Starbuck pulled the trigger of the revolver as he fell.
Millie clutched her stomach and gasped for a breath.
Bohanin fired another round into the assassin's head. In seconds, he had his arms around her letting her go to the ground easily. She started trembling.
Bohanin tore open the front of her dress and forced her hands away from her wound. The bullet had entered to the side of her stomach. She was badly wounded but not gut shot.
Bohanin tore off a piece of her petty coat and stuffed it into the hole.
“Am I going to die?” Millie asked.
“No, you won't die, I won't let you die. Listen to me. I've seen these wounds before. Tell yourself that you are going to live. Believe that you are going to live. No matter what, no matter the pain, you are going to live.”
Millie gasped for breath, “I'm going to live.”
“I'm going to leave you for a few moments. Don't panic. I'm only going to hitch up the mare and get the buggy.”
Millie nodded and struggled to endure the pain.
He returned and tried to lift her.
“Oh no, please! It hurts too bad.”
“I've got to. I've got to get you in the buggy. I can't leave you here and go for help. I've got to take you with me.
”
“Please, just leave me here to die.
”
As Bohanin lifted the woman into the buggy, the horse jumped. Bohanin grabbed the reins and held the mare fast. Within seconds, he was beside her holding her with one arm and urging the mare forward with the other.
She could not move. All was black, with only pain telling her that she was alive.
Chapter X
Bohanin drove carefully throughout the night. Any number of sudden washes or chuckholes would have taken a heavy toll on the rig. Once the sun was over the horizon he whipped the mare forward. The rig crashed and careened across the plains. Bohanin knew the constant jolting was hard on her but only a doctor could save her. The blood from her wound did not seem to be flowing as heavily. Keeping her still, would have only increased her suffering and caused her death from blood loss. Hasty, Colorado was forty miles from the camp. A horseman could make forty miles in a day. A buggy, with one animal pulling the weight of two people, was a task he had never attempted. It would probably kill the mare. Bohanin kept the mare at a steady trot. By mid-day, Bohanin saw two riders on the horizon and fired two rounds. The horsemen broke their ponies into a run.
“I've got a seriously wounded woman here,” he said as they neared. “How far am I from Hasty?”
“At least twenty-five miles but that animal will never make it.”
“Is there a doctor there?”
“If he's not on his circuit. His wife is a fair doctor herself. She's always around.”
“I need some help
.”
The cowboy held up Bohanin's mare and stepped to the ground.
“Jasper, make tracks for Hasty and tell the doctor that these folks are coming in,” the cowboy said. Jasper spurred his mount into a run toward the northwest.
“You hitch up my horse to this rig and leave the mare with me. My gelding is fresh and should make the trip, no problem,” the cowboy said.
Bohanin jumped from the buggy and began unhitching the mare as the cowboy removed his rig from his small buckskin pinto.
“I don't know how to thank you for this,” Bohanin said as he stepped the exhausted mare from the buggy.
“I'll make camp here and bring the mare on in when she's rested. You folks won't be going any place. Doc Ball's office is on the second floor above the dry goods store. It won't be hard to find,” the cowboy said. “What happened to her?”
“We were dry gulched. I killed the feller but he got off a shot as he went down,” Bohanin said as he pulled the harness to the front of the mare.
“Ain't that a hell of a note? I can't understand what this country is a coming to,” the cowboy said as he helped Bohanin lift the harness from the mare.
“My name's L.J. Bohanin. I'll put the rig at the livery if there is one.”
“Joe Tibbs, I ride for the Circle R. Don't you worry about a thing. I'll be in just as soon as I know the mare is able to make the trip. It'll probably be tomorrow.”
“You got enough water?” Bohanin asked.
“Got me a full canteen. I ain't that far from more if I need it. You just worry about saving that woman, feller.”
As Joe Tibbs buckled the harness to the arms, Bohanin took the reins and stepped into the buggy.
“Watch him now. He's green broke and ain't never seen a harness. He'll likely give you a fit until he knows what to do,” Tibbs said as he slapped the gelding on the rump, sending the rig on its way.
Within minutes, Tibbs and the exhausted mare were far behind.
Bohanin felt Millie's face as the buggy made quick progress behind the fresh horse. She was alive and didn't seem too feverish.
Evening shadows were long when the rig came down the dusty street of the little town of Hasty, Colorado. Jasper was waiting by the doctor's office and signaled Bohanin the site. The young doctor and his wife were waiting in the street as the buggy came to a stop in front of the store. They helped Bohanin carry her up the stairs.
Millie was lifted onto an examining table and the wife began removing Millie's clothing. Bohanin stepped back and allowed them to work.
“How long ago did this happen?” the doctor asked as he pulled the blood soaked cloth from Millie's wound.
“Almost twenty-four hours.
”
The doctor shook his head. “That's a long time. It's a wonder she's got any blood left in her.”
The doctor and his wife deftly cleaned and examined the wound.
“The sheriff wants to talk to you about this,” the doctor said. “You might as well go see him. There's nothing that you can do for now.”
“Will she live?” Bohanin asked.
“I can't say. This is serious and much of it depends on how much blood she's lost.
Bohanin nodded and made his way toward the door. Jasper stood at the bottom of the stairway and waited for news. Bohanin shook his head. Another man was crossing the street toward them as Bohanin stepped from the stairway. Bohanin could see the badge flashing on the man's shirt.
“You the fellow that brought in the hurt woman?” the sheriff asked.
Bohanin nodded. “We were bushwhacked some forty miles south of here.”
“The feller get away?”
“He's laying where he fell.
”
“You shoot him?”
“Yes, I shot him,” Bohanin said as he leaned against the edge of the building.
“You look like you need a drink.”
Bohanin nodded and followed the sheriff across the street to his office. The office was one room. The sheriff pulled a bottle from a roll-top desk positioned against one wall. He poured Bohanin a drink and one for himself.
“I'm Creek Witter. I'm the county sheriff. Jasper didn't know your name.”
“L.J. Bohanin.” He sipped the whisky.
The sheriff tipped back his hat and smiled. “I know you. You headed a troop of nigger cavalry out of Fort Wallace some years back. I was with Forsythe on the Arikaree when we killed Roman Nose. Your people relieved us.”
“We surely did
.
”
“That was a hell of a fight.”
“They chewed you up some.”
The sheriff nodded. “Yes sir, them was the longest days of my life. I was never so glad to see a bunch of them buffalo soldiers when you fellers came riding up.”
Witter pulled up a chair for Bohanin and sat behind his desk.
“You know who that feller was?”
Bohanin shook his head. “No, she was carrying a lot of money and he must have gotten the word. My guess is that he was just some bushwhacker looking for some quick money.”
“I'll need to ride down there and look the place over
.
”
“I left most of our camp gear there. I'd appreciate it if you could bring it back.”
“No problem. Where's the money?”
“Probably in her suitcase in the buggy. I really don't know.”
“I can check that out. If you don't mind, I'd just as soon get that money in a safe as soon as possible.”
Bohanin nodded. “That would be fine. There's a cowboy named Joe Tibbs between here and there, stranded with my mare. I'm not sure that the animal is fit to get him into town.”
“I know. Jasper is going to find Joe. I'm sure he'll be all right. You don't need to concern yourself about that. You're lucky to have gotten off a shot if it was an ambush. Usually folks never know what hit them in a dry gulching.”
“I was expecting trouble. That fellow had been trailing us all day.”
Witter nodded. “I'm sure you're better than most at smelling out trouble.”
“Comes from experience. I was the lady's escort for just that reason.”
Witter tapped his finger on his desk.
“Well, I'm sure you need some rest. You'll probably be in town for several days. I'll ride down there tomorrow and look things over. If everything checks out, I don't see that there's much we can do other than plant the guy and wish the best for the woman.”
Bohanin rose from his chair and stepped toward the door.
“There's a hotel next to the dry goods store. I think they have a room for you. It's on the county,” Witter said as he followed Bohanin to the door.
“I'll probably go back to the doctor's office to see about Millie. I'd like to get some kind of word.”
“What is her last name?” the sheriff asked.
“Toland. She's a school teacher from Springfield.”
“That's a shame. I wish her the best,” Witter said as Bohanin started across the street.
Bohanin entered the office quietly. He was surprised to see Millie alone on the table. The doctor and his wife were standing by a basin, cleaning instruments.
Doctor Ball produced a .45 slug. “We had no trouble finding it. It almost passed clean through.
She's a very lucky woman. No vitals damaged, only tissue. We've got to sew her up yet but the bleeding wasn't nearly as serious as I feared. If we can control infection, I believe she'll be completely healed in a month or so.”
Bohanin sighed. “May I see her?”
“Sure, but she's not regained consciousness. I doubt that she'll awaken before mid-day tomorrow. The body has a strange way of protecting itself in such circumstances. She'll be weak for days.”
Bohanin stepped to her side. She was still vibrant, in spite of her condition.
“And the baby?”
“If there is one, she's in her earliest stages,” Doc Ball answered in surprise. “I seriously doubt that she'll be able to keep the child after such trauma. She'll probably lose the child and not even notice.”
Bohanin nodded, surprised that the pregnancy was so little advanced.
“Is there a husband that needs to be contacted?” the doctor's wife asked from across the room.
“No, she's a widow,” Bohanin said. “I'll notify those parties that might be concerned.”
Bohanin returned to his buggy and retrieved what belongings were still in the boot behind the seat. He realized that his Winchester was still back at the campsite. His money was under the seat cushion so he had plenty to get by. The sheriff joined him and they found Millie's three thousand in her suitcase. Bohanin urged the sheriff to take the money for safekeeping. It was late when he stumbled into the lobby of the small hotel. He asked if there was a place where he could purchase a saddle rig and horse. He also asked the best location to buy some trail clothes, revolvers and ammunition. As he found his room and prepared for a badly needed rest, Bohanin formulated his plans. He would wait until he was sure that Millie was all right. He would trade his pistol for some newer Colts and buy himself some trail clothes and a horse. He would return to Springfield and find Logan Bochart. He had been careful to tell the sheriff very little. It would be impossible to bring Bochart to trial without more evidence.