Eyes of Silver, Eyes of Gold (5 page)

Haste to get free turned the quilt into a clinging trap. Anne knelt over him at last, heart pounding, but could find no awareness in his eyes. When she lifted the back of his head and tipped a cup of water against his mouth, he managed three swallows, then relapsed into unconsciousness. She cursed her own ignorance - whether this brief interlude was a good sign or not she had no idea.

Uncertain she might be, but she fell asleep with a slight smile on her mangled lips, and woke at dawn to find the light brown eyes so close to her own open and looking at her with life back in them. This time he swallowed almost a full cup of water before leaving her again.

On this third morning Anne found she no longer felt frightened and burdened by the responsibility of caring for the animals. She enjoyed resting her forehead against the warm, furry side of a cow and watching the streams of milk begin to froth in the pail. She liked hearing the excited squeals of the pigs settle to contented grunts after she mixed a slop with the milk and finely ground grain she found near their pens.

Her heart lifted when the sick colt nuzzled her hand and took the lump of sugar she offered without being forced, chewing and swallowing slowly and without much enthusiasm, but nevertheless willingly. The corralled horses dug into their hay in an appreciative way, and even the chickens came running for their breakfast so that the effort seemed worthwhile.

Hardening her heart, she butchered the first chicken that pecked at her. After all these years Anne was finally grateful to her mother’s friend, Maudie, who had nagged her into learning this nasty skill over her protests and tears many years ago when marrying Elroy Turrell seemed likely.

“Now, Anne, dear,” Maudie had said, “a farmer’s wife can’t be soft-hearted about these things. It’s a fact of life, and you’d better accept it.”

The next time Cord came to, Anne was going to have chicken broth ready for him, not just water. She was also going to have bread, and there was no reason the pigs had to have all that milk with the cream. From now on she would let it separate first and save the cream for butter.

She started to burn her own clothes, but in the end she washed, repaired, and saved everything but the destroyed corset. No use blaming the clothes for what had happened while she was wearing them.

Anne had lived her whole life following the dictates of others. Now all the decisions were hers. What to do, when to do it, how to do it, so much depended on her, but instead of feeling weighed down, minute by minute, hour by hour, this new life wove a spell around her, leaving her feeling lighter and freer than she had ever dreamed possible.

Twice more that morning she found Cord awake. He spoke not a word, but his eyes followed her, and each time she managed to get more water and some broth down him. That afternoon he finally spoke. “How long?”

“Today is Wednesday, the third day.”

“You like cleaning up after me, or can I have a pan?”

She couldn’t help trying to grin at him. “I’ll find a pan.”

Her spirits soared at the sight of the few small swirls of red in the fluid. He really was going to be all right. It even seemed that he was now sleeping, not unconscious, but perhaps she just wanted to believe that. Late that evening he insisted she strap his ribs tightly in spite of the bruises. She kept her head turned so he wouldn’t see her cry.

That night she carried the rocking chair into the bedroom and curled up there to keep her vigil. Again she woke to find his eyes on her.

This time she didn’t hurry to push water or broth at him but knelt on the edge of the mattress. “You know I never meant to cause all this, to get you killed or to cause you so much pain.”

He didn’t answer but took a steely hold on her wrist. “Take off the shirt.” Once again she had used his shirt for a nightgown.

The strength of his grip surprised her. “Are you crazy? I will not.”

“Take off the damn shirt.”

It was insane. She wouldn’t even have to hit him, just push firmly anywhere on his torso and he would pass out and that would be the end of that. She looked hard into the amber eyes, which now had a stubborn glint, considering. For the moment they were certainly past all modesty, and she thought she knew what he wanted.

She let go of the edges of the quilt, and it fell around her. Then she unbuttoned his shirt with her free hand and pushed it off her shoulders, not looking at him, but feeling his gaze as he examined every exposed inch.

“Your back.”

She turned, letting him have a good look at her back, and when he let go of her wrist, pulled the shirt back in place and rebuttoned it before turning to look at him again. He was staring at the ceiling. “Samuels?”

“Yes, except my face.”

“Did they stop him?”

“He stopped when I brought up the breakfast you fed me. Truthfully I don’t think anybody would have lifted a hand or said a word to stop anything, but I guess it was too much for him right under my father and Reverend Pratt’s noses. He certainly told me in sordid detail what he wanted to do.”

He still stared at the ceiling. “Any chance of something to eat more than that soup stuff?”

She stood and carefully examined the ravaged face. “No, soup stuff is all you get until you stop passing blood.” There was no answer, and she headed for the other bedroom to dress, humming to herself.

Two hours later her new-found serenity was shattered into a thousand pieces.

The first warning was a series of high pitched barks from the fox-faced dog, and then there were sounds of horses entering the yard. One frantic glance showed Samuels, O’Brien, and both of the Meeks brothers, dismounting and tying their horses in front of the main barn.

Anne wrenched the rifle down from the wall, picked up a box of shells and the gunbelt and pistol from the shelf underneath and ran to the bedroom, shaking Cord awake by the arm with no regard for his feelings.

“Load one for me. Load one, and show me how to shoot it. They’re back. Oh, God, they’re back!” She was almost incoherent with fear, and he didn’t even ask who was back.

“They are loaded. Watch.” He took the rifle from her and worked the lever, then demonstrated squeezing the trigger without actually touching it. “Let them get close and aim at the middle of the body. Keep your back to a wall.”

Anne ran for the front door with the rifle. A cautious peek outside showed Samuels emerging from the carriage shed, O’Brien waiting for him in the middle of the yard, and the Meeks brothers coming together from the main barn. They were probably looking for things to steal she thought venomously. Laughing and joking, they were now walking toward the house.

Anne slipped out the front door, put her back firmly to the outside wall and raised the rifle. Spotting her, the men halted halfway across the yard. On each side of Charlie Meeks, his brother, Samuels and O’Brien began to move sideways, putting distance between themselves. Charlie gave her the obscene grin she knew only too well.

“Hey, now, what are you still doing here? How about we take you home? You can ride with me.”

Anne didn’t waste breath answering him.

“So, your daddy don’t want you no more? We’ll take you. It’ll be a treat for you, honey. Four white men ought to seem like a treat after that Injun.”

Anne still said nothing, didn’t move.

“Come on now. That thing probably ain’t even loaded, and shooting a man isn’t something a lady can do. Why don’t you just put that down and let’s do this friendly like.”

Anne had never been as sure of anything as that she could shoot Charlie Meeks, would in fact love to see that disgusting, mocking grin disappear in a spray of blood. She just hoped for the luck to send one of the four to hell before the others got to her. She could not possibly get more than one when she had never even fired a gun before, but that wouldn’t stop her trying.

Slight thumping noises were coming from the house, but she didn’t turn to look. If more men were coming up behind her, her cause was lost anyway, no use taking her eyes off Charlie and his friends.

All four men began walking toward her again, Charlie still leering at her. “Aw, honey, you can’t shoot me.”

Anne heard another louder thump, and then a deep rasping, “I can,” as Cord lurched into the doorway, naked except for the white strapping on his ribs, leaning against the frame for support, and bringing the pistol to bear.

His first shot took Charlie Meeks in the shoulder, the second brought a yelp of pain from Lem Samuels. He doubled over, but Anne wasn’t sure where he had been hit. Neither man went off his feet, and all four were now running for their horses. Cord began to slump down the door frame, and she hurried to ease his fall.

Just before he became dead weight, she heard him mutter, “Keep shooting.” So she did. The recoil frightened her but didn’t stop her. She emptied the rifle, then the pistol at the retreating figures, hoping they could not tell it was only her wild firing. The horses kept running.

When she dropped the empty pistol, Cord was on the floor, unconscious, shivering and covered with gooseflesh from the cold fall air, bleeding from one nostril again. She dragged him out of the doorway and ran to the bedroom, returning with a pillow and blankets and wrapping him where he lay. Sinking down beside him, unable to face dragging him back into the bedroom, she sat with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them and began to rock back and forth, her mind refusing to function.

* * *

Chapter 5

SHERIFF NOAH REYNOLDS DROVE A
borrowed buggy through the crisp, clear air of a day so beautiful he would usually have been lost in admiration. Today, though, he hunched in thought, paying only the automatic attention to his surroundings that years of law enforcement in rough country had ingrained.

Noah was bound for the Bennett Ranch, and he was still not sure why. Edward Wells had come to him yesterday morning, demanding that his daughter Anne be “rescued” from Cord Bennett’s, but almost nothing about his story made sense. Noah had to testify in court in the afternoon and refused Wells’ demands for immediate action, but promised to look into the matter first thing today. He had, however, been forced to waste hours this morning calming an irate citizen who was losing a chicken a week and sure that her neighbors were helping themselves to a weekly roast chicken dinner.

Wells claimed his daughter had “stumbled” onto the Bennett Ranch, been beaten and raped by Cord, and that Wells and a rescue party had beaten Cord in retaliation and “accidentally” killed him. If they hanged the half-breed under those circumstances, trying to prosecute would be a waste of time. It made no sense that that was what Edward was lying about, and there was no doubt in Noah’s mind that Edward was lying.

Wells refused to listen to Noah’s patient explanation that rescuing crime victims was not part of a sheriff’s job, became evasive and abusive when pressed about how Anne had gotten to the Bennett Ranch in the first place, and refused to answer at all when asked why he hadn’t brought his daughter home immediately.

Everything about the story smelled bad, and Noah felt uneasy. Anne Wells had not been seen around town for more than a month now, and her family answered inquiries with a story of slow recovery from a fever. Noah now remembered a few gossips happily nodding their heads and implying that actually she was being held prisoner by her family in the continuing effort to get her to marry George Detrick, but Noah disregarded such stories as nonsense. Such Medieval happenings could not be occurring in his town in this year of 1885.

Noah was further troubled because of the Bennett family’s involvement. The Bennetts had been long-time residents of Colorado when Noah arrived, but the sheriff had learned their history in bits and pieces over the years.

James Bennett had come west with his three young children, Ephraim, Frank, and Hannah, in the ‘40s. At first he made a living any way he could - hunting, trapping, and trading. By the time Colorado became a territory in 1861, he had the boundaries of what would become the Bennett Ranch staked out, and he set about acquiring title to the land in earnest.

Noah knew some in Mason rationalized Jamie’s second marriage as clever politics. The land was still ruled by the Plains Tribes, and the Bennetts had indeed prospered without fear of Indian raids. Yet both Ephraim and Frank Bennett maintained that their father’s second marriage was a love match, and unlike most white men, Jamie married the woman he called Song before a Christian preacher.

Noah also knew it was Song Bennett’s death that had changed Jamie from a vital adventurer to an absent-minded man who left both running his ranch and raising Song’s son and daughter, Cord and Marie, to his older children.

Noah shook his head. Cord…. How on earth could Edward Wells and a few townsmen have beaten Cord Bennett? It would be Noah’s expectation that the half-breed could tear Edward and several like him to pieces. It was even harder to believe that Cord would commit such a crime.

Cord had spent ten days in Mason’s jail when he was only fifteen. At that time, Noah tried to help the boy come to terms with what his mixed blood would mean in a white man’s world, something Noah faulted the Bennetts for protecting him from too well for too long. Noah had ended up feeling uneasy about the quiet boy, a disquiet that turned to fear over the years. He often wondered if his meddling back then did more harm than good. Considering why Cord was jailed in the first place, it was even harder to believe he would hurt a woman, but there was no doubt that in the years since Cord returned to Mason from his never explained wanderings, he got leaner and meaner with each passing season.