Two

Marley Rose McClain’s breath fogged in the frosty morning as she headed to the nearby town of Tranquility, Texas. She loved this time of day because of the peace it brought. Nothing except the jangle of the harnesses and the horses’ soft snorts broke the quiet.

Lord knew there was little silence to be had at her parents’ ranch these days. Too many kids underfoot. Her mama had this peculiar habit of picking up stray kids like others took in animals. Jessie McClain had a heart as big as Texas and arms that appeared to be made for holding babies, and at last count, with this batch, her mama and papa had acquired a baker’s dozen.

Thankfully, the children grew up, married, and left, only for new ones to take their places. The rotation reminded her of a plow turning over new sod at planting season.

When her parents’ home had begun to bulge at the seams, Marley’s father had built her a small dwelling next door. She loved living independently. A twenty-year-old woman needed her own things and the chance to make her own decisions. She often worried that life had passed her by, that she’d never get to do the things she yearned for. It often felt as though she were shriveling inside a little more each day.

Helping her mother with the children took so much from Marley that she often wanted to scream with frustration.

When would it be her time? Her dreams were withering away.

This trip to town provided an escape of sorts. Not that she minded hard work. She just longed for a break from time to time, and the need for staples for both houses gave her an opportunity for woolgathering and planning her future.

A sudden shift in the wind scattered her thoughts and she sat up straighter. The chilly breeze brushed ghostly fingers against her face, whispered in her ear, warning her of danger. Marley gripped the reins tighter and glanced around, but saw nothing. She forced a nervous laugh and chided herself for her jumpy nerves. There was nothing lurking around waiting to do her harm.

Marley forced herself to relax, yet couldn’t quite block the unease that twisted and turned inside like a bucking bronc. Before she’d gone a dozen horses’ lengths, she spied a flutter near the road. A piece of cloth that seemed to be stuck on a prickly pear. Curious, she set the brake and climbed from the buckboard, ignoring the brisk air that nipped at her ankles.

Inching closer, Marley scolded herself for not letting her oldest brother come along. He’d asked to come so he could visit with a friend in town, only he’d gotten caught up in chores and she hadn’t wanted to wait.

Setting aside her thoughts, she focused on the scrap of fabric fluttering in the breeze. It appeared to be a bundle of rags, and she inched closer, ready to bolt. Sudden movement in the brush spooked her. She jerked back in alarm. A man’s bloody, scraped legs were visible through his shredded trousers. Those and a pair of worn boots protruded from the tangle of vines and wild growth.

A rustler?

A chill slithered up her spine. She’d heard how ruthless those outlaws could be. But maybe this one was dead. Or dying.

Going for help crossed her mind, but he might not last until she got back. A fainthearted ninny would run, but Marley was made of sterner stuff. Her hands trembled as she touched him.

“Mister, are you hurt? Come out where I can see you.” She braced to run if he reached to grab her. It occurred to her that he might’ve frozen overnight. The chill had come down from the north last night with little warning.

“Hey, mister.” She nudged him with a cautious toe.

The man gave a loud groan and rolled over by degrees. Marley’s tongue worked in a suddenly dry mouth, and she stumbled backward, staring at his badly mangled body. Her heart pounded like a team of runaway horses. How could a man still breathe with a face so swollen and bloody? He tried to open his eyes, and Marley was grateful that he couldn’t. The sight sickened her enough without the thought of seeing empty sockets behind those lids. Anyone who’d beat a man this badly surely wouldn’t hesitate to add that sort of cruelty to the list.

“Help,” the man croaked.

A brief glance noted the lack of a gun belt or weapons.

“I don’t know who did this, mister, but they sure meant to kill you. Whether you’re friend or foe, I can’t be sure, but we’ll sort it out after I get you to the ranch.” She gripped the shredded mess of his shirt, not surprised that a section came off in her hands.

The stranger must outweigh her by a hundred pounds. Scraped flesh, visible through the rips and tears, suggested not an inch of fat on his long, muscular body.

“Can you walk a little, mister? You’re too heavy to lift but I’ll help you to the buckboard. It’s no more than half a dozen steps.”

The stranger attempted to rise without a word, only to fall back. Marley got behind him and pushed and slowly got the man to his feet. He shivered uncontrollably.

“Put your arm around my shoulders,” she said.

He gave a loud cry of pain but he did as she asked, leaning heavily on her and half-dragging his feet. One agonizing step at a time, they inched toward the bed of the buckboard. His teeth chattered from the cold, blood covered his face, and she kept urging him to put one foot in front of the other. They finally reached the wagon, and she tried to ease him up into the bed, but despite her care, he fell with a thud onto the boards. His scream pierced right through her. She reached for a blanket she’d thrown in that morning just in case, and as she tucked the heavy wool around him, she noticed he’d lapsed into unconsciousness.

Marley stared at her gloves, slick with blood, but the only thing she had was her dress to wipe them on. Several hundred yards down the road, she spied a flat place to turn around.

She mumbled a prayer as they raced toward the ranch. The pair of chestnuts hadn’t had such a workout in quite a while. She sped into the compound amid a cloud of dust, sending men running from everywhere.

Her father reached her first. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No, not me. I found a man on the road. He’s in bad shape.” Marley hopped to the ground. “He needs a doctor. Bleeding something awful.”

Duel McClain glanced into the buckboard. “That’s putting it mildly. Doc Henby is out of town and won’t be back for two weeks.” He grabbed a ranch hand. “Get my wife.” He turned back to Marley. “I don’t know where we’ll put him. Every nook, cranny, and spider hole is occupied.” He heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “The bunkhouse is also full and spilling over.”

Marley met his gaze. “I have room. It makes sense to take him to my house anyway. He’ll need care, and I can sleep on the sofa.”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. Are you sure you can handle this?”

“Papa, I’m a grown woman.”

“Even so, we don’t know who he is, and rustlers are running rampant over this entire area. He could pose a danger to you.”

A gurgling noise came from the stranger’s mouth, and blood oozed from between his lips. They had to act. Duel turned to the ranch hands clustered around the wagon. “Carry him to Marley Rose’s house for now. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

Marley raced ahead and held the door, then stood aside as they carried him inside and gently laid him on the bed. A nice fire in the fireplace kept the dwelling warm, but still she placed a quilt over him.

She didn’t know who the man was, but he must have a powerful lot of enemies. His clothes were in tatters, and he had injuries every place she looked, especially his poor face. An entire strip of skin was gone along one side.

Mitch, the ranch hand Duel had sent off to find her mother, rushed into the room. “Boss, Miz Jessie can’t come right now. One of the kids cut himself and blood’s everywhere.”

Duel turned, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Marley Rose, put on water to warm in your kitchen and fetch supplies for this man from the main house. See if you can help your mama while you’re over there.”

“Yes, Papa.” She rushed to the kitchen, filled a pail with water from the pump, and put it on to heat. That done, she hurried toward the ranch house.

Her mother sat at the kitchen table, holding five-year-old Benji’s arm raised over his head. Blood had soaked his shirt and her mother’s apron. The boy was sobbing.

“What happened, Mama?”

“Benji was playing with a knife and sliced his hand open. I’m trying to get it stop bleeding so I can put some stitches in it.” She spared Marley Rose a worried glance. “What’s going on over at your place? Mitch just said you’d brought in a stranger who was badly hurt.”

“I found a man on the road on my way to town. Not sure exactly how bad he’s hurt, but there’s a lot of blood. We need cloths and bandages.”

“Go get the box that has all my medical supplies.” Jessie shifted Benji and glanced toward a baby’s weak cries that came from a nearby crib. The child was one of the new three-month-old triplets that Jessie had taken in after their mother had died in childbirth. Their father had quickly enlisted in the frontier army, not wanting to shoulder the burden of his offspring’s care.

“I’ll see to her, Mama.” Marley patted the small back for a few minutes until the baby quieted, then rushed to the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen where her mother kept ointments, bandages, and the like. Between the children and accidents with the men on the ranch, the room often became a makeshift doctor’s office. Resting a hand on a box filled with what they’d need, she shot Jessie a questioning glance.

“Go on,” Jessie said. “I can handle this little guy. I have a feeling your patient needs you worse.”

Marley grabbed the box and headed for the door.

“I’ll be out after I tend to these children.” Jessie lowered Benji’s arm to look at his hand. “For now, you’ll have to fill in for me. Seeing as you’re as skilled as I am by now, that shouldn’t be a problem—so long as you’re fine with it?”

“Yes, Mama. I’ll do my best.” Marley rushed back to her little home. The water wasn’t hot enough yet, but it would have to do. They couldn’t afford to wait. Taking the pail from the stove, she carried it into the bedroom. Her father had stripped the man and covered him again with the quilt. The stranger lay so still, with his eyes closed. His croak for help back there on the road echoed in her head. She hadn’t heard him speak another word and maybe she never would.

“Is he still unconscious?”

“Yep. It’s a blessing.” Duel took the pail from her. “You can help with some of this, then I’ll finish.”

She dipped a cloth into the tepid water and gently washed the blood from the stranger’s face. He was nothing but a mass of cuts and bruises, with skin peeled away on arms that seemed to have taken the brunt of whatever had befallen him.

Duel gently applied some ointment to what appeared to be deep rope marks around their patient’s chest.

“Papa, what do you think happened to him?”

“I once saw a man after he was dragged behind a horse. This is what he looked like.”

Her father’s quiet words struck fear in her. “Did he live?”

“A few days.”

A heavy ache filled her chest, bringing tears to her eyes. She couldn’t bear to think of this stranger’s hopes and dreams dying before he got to fulfill them. From what she could tell, he appeared no more than a few years older than she was. His hair, the color of an eagle’s wing, was a bit long but not shaggy. She got the impression he took pride in his appearance. More telling was his face. The hard lines and older scars indicated a life that had already been unkind. She placed her hand over his heart and felt the steady beat of a fighter. She imagined what he must look like whole and healthy. Surely, his high cheekbones and strong jaw marked him as a man who would stand up for his principles no matter the consequences. Maybe that’s what happened. The black fringe of his dark lashes was barely visible because of the swelling, but she prayed he’d open his eyes soon. Then she’d know for sure if they had a blind man on their hands.

Her father rinsed out the cloth he was using and shot her a worried glance. “Honey, I really don’t know about you taking on his care.”

“Who’ll do it if I don’t? We have no one else. Mama’s busy with the little ones, and the men have those rustlers to chase. Besides, the men can barely doctor a shaving nick. I’m the only one with the time and knowledge. Mama taught me well.”

“I suppose you make a good argument. But I’ll never forgive myself if I put you in harm’s way.”

Marley went to her father and slid her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. “I think you look for things to fret about when it comes to me or the children.”

“You’re right.”

“This stranger doesn’t appear to have a mean look about him. Besides, when he wakes up, he’ll be too weak to hurt me if he’s that kind of person.”

Duel tightened his arms around her. “What about whoever did this? They might get wind he’s alive and come to finish him off.”

“Then you can order the men to stay close.” She pushed out of his arms and returned to their patient. “I’ll be fine.”

“All right. I’ll hush.”

“I wonder if he has family.” She tried to brush back his hair only to encounter a sticky, matted mess. Once things had settled some, she’d wash it.

Duel shifted beside the bed. The black Stetson he wore shadowed his amber eyes, the color of whiskey, so unlike her dark ones. Hers weren’t anything close to her mother’s blue shade either. She’d often thought it odd that she bore little resemblance to either parent. Maybe she was some kind of changeling child.

“If he wakes up, we’ll find out about kin, and I’ll get word to them.” A cowboy came through the door and motioned her father aside.

Though they spoke low, Marley caught the word rustlers, then something about stealing them blind. Worry on her father’s face shot fear into her. Was this man lying in her bed involved in something so awful?

She raised her patient’s chin to wash the blood from his throat and noticed the thin cut from a sharp blade that ran from under one ear right across to the other. She sucked in a breath.

No matter if he did have a hand in the rustling. He didn’t deserve this. No one did.

Who was he, and who hated him so much that they’d try to end his life in such a horrific way?