The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (12 page)

A blanket, a saddle, and a bridle later, Ezra slipped into the saddle.  The cattle in the north pasture needed checking, and as much as he hated to leave Willow on her own, he knew he had little choice.  He’d already sent all of his other men out to check on the herds, and he wanted to give Willow a few more days to get over whatever had made her faint a few days ago.

He was out all day.  Cattle had wandered onto range that didn’t belong to him and he didn’t want to anger his neighbor if he didn’t have to.  He already had enough enemies.  He spent the day collecting strays and driving about fifty head back to the center of his north pasture.

At noon, he broke for his meal and a bit of shade.  The day was hot and sweat dripped down his temples and his back, even Beast appeared weary.  He was glad he hadn’t brought Willow with him, thinking the heat had set off her illness the other day.

Late in the afternoon, he headed homeward, hoping all was well.  The sun sank in the sky as his home came into view.  His formerly full stomach growled like a starved dog’s, and he wondered what
Willow would have on the table for him.  Besides, he wanted to assure himself that she was all right.

Ezra spurred his horse into a gallop, slowing in the barnyard and dismounting before the animal came to a stop.  The reins dangling over his shoulder, he made to put Beast away, but bellowing at the corrals had him searching around the barnyard for the source. It wasn’t long before he spotted his newest bull, head down and trapped in a stretch of the barbed wire.

And not far away stood Willow, searching for a way to free the animal from its entanglement.

“How long has he been like that?”  Boden asked
Willow as he approached her and the bull.

“Not long, but he has his head down low and that worries me,”
Willow said.  The bull charged then, and both she and Boden took a hasty step back.

One of these days he and
Willow were going to have a long discussion on how she knew so much about cattle.  She was right—the bull’s head was low and already blood seeped from its nostrils.  The funny thing about cattle was if one got stuck in such a position, its lungs eventually filled with fluid, suffocating the animal.  And if they didn’t free the bull quickly, it would die.  Not even he could afford that.

“Any of the men around?” he asked, thinking he could use a little help.  He didn’t want to endanger his wife.

“No,” she said shaking her head at the same time.

He dropped Beast’s reins a little ways off and warily approached the frightened and angered Hereford.   He’d just paid $275 for that bull, and it hadn’t so much as looked at any of the heifers yet.  The thought of all that money going to waste prompted him to act instinctively and rashly.

He positioned himself at the bull’s head, being careful to steer clear of the animal’s twisting body.  He heard Willow’s intake of breath and figured he’d better be careful no matter how angry he was.  He’d seen a man taken by a bull once, and it hadn’t been a pretty sight. It definitely wasn’t one he wanted Willow witnessing.

Sharp horns flailed near Ezra, and he trained a wary eye on them.  Keeping quiet and still, Ezra studied the situation at a closer angle.  The top strand of wire had loosened so much that it drooped below the second strand of wire creating a loop just large enough for the bull to get his head stuck.

“Now what did you want so badly that you’d stick your head in there?”

Then he saw it, a fresh untouched clump of grass just on the other side of the fence.  It looked tall and appetizing compared to the mud, dust, and hay in the corral.

He grabbed for his wire cutters and moved a bit closer.  He needed to get close to where the barbed wire touched the frightened bull’s neck, and yet stay far enough away to keep from getting killed.

That soon proved to be no easy task.  He reached below the struggling bull’s neck and grabbed the wire with the snippers.  All would have gone well had the bull not tried to barge his way forward.  It gained little ground, yet he dragged Boden’s arm through the fence and back.

He heard Willow gasp, but thankfully she didn’t scream.

Blood seeped through the tears in Ezra’s shirt, but he continued to clutch the wire cutters firmly in his hands.  This time he cut the fence line without mishap.  The bull must have felt the tension loosen, for he gave a mighty jerk of his neck and backed free of the wire altogether.  Albeit, the animal managed to further rip up his neck, but the strong beast would make a full recovery now that he was no longer in danger of suffocating.

Boden wasn’t so sure about himself.  He looked down at his arm then and chuckled ruefully. Yeah, sometimes he didn’t use his brain much more than a bull.  His arm was in a bloody shambles.  Skin hung here and there, and his forearm was covered in blood.

“What could you possibly be laughing at?”  Willow asked, rushing forward.

“My own stupidity,” he replied.  He removed his shirt and wrapped it around his arm to keep the dirt out and staunch the bleeding.  The contact stung and he grimaced.  He supposed he would need stitches, and he hoped Willow was handy with a needle.  He would never be able to sew his arm properly with his right hand.

Willow
walked with him to the house, and the whole way he wondered how she felt around blood.

WILLOW HAD BEEN SETTING
dinner on the table when she’d heard the bull’s bellowing.  She’d gone out to check on it, trying to find a way to free the animal.  Boden’s method of freeing it hadn’t even crossed her mind.  It had been risky and foolhardy, and she was having a difficult time not telling him just that.

Boden walked into the house beside her, looking like he’d just been in a barroom brawl.    His face was set in grim lines of pain and anger.

“That was an idiotic thing to do,” Boden admitted without preamble, moving toward the kitchen table.

Willow
wanted to agree with him, but reckoned that might not be the smartest thing to do.  Bare-chested and bloody, he looked downright intimidating.  Instead, she said, “Sit down.  I’ll take a look.”

Sitting, he tried to crack a smile through the pain, but didn’t quite manage the feat.  He attempted to pull away the shirt he’d wrapped around his arm, but stopped when it stuck tenaciously.

“I look a sight.”

“You do look a sight,”
Willow agreed.  She smiled grimly.  “Let me see if I can get that loose.”

“I’d appreciate it,” he said as he lowered himself into the kitchen chair.  “Don’t reckon I could nurse myself.  I’m not all that good with my right hand.”

“I put water on to boil for dishes earlier.  It should be handy for cleaning out those scratches.”  She moved to the stove as she spoke and dipped a cloth into it.  She tested its heat before wringing it out.

She stepped to his side and gently removed the shirt from his arm by applying the damp, hot cloth to those parts that had adhered to his skin.

As she bent over him, Ezra took the opportunity to study her.  Her hair was brown, but it wasn’t a mousy brown or a dusty brown.  It was a healthy rich brown with golden highlights accenting its thickness.  She had a right pretty head of hair.  Pressure on his arm drew his attention back to her slightly shaking hands, and he noticed how gentle yet capable they were.  What kind of man had Roberts been to hurt her as he had?

He wished he could verbally convince her that he would never treat her poorly, but he knew only too well how little words could mean.  Oh, he’d mean them, but she wouldn’t know that.  He supposed Brett Roberts had been just like his father, a charmer when he was drunk and a tyrant when he was sober.

As a boy, Ezra spent hours doing odd jobs around town just to keep his father supplied with plenty of money for alcohol, because when Carter Boden started to dry out, he was the devil himself.

“Well, you’ve got some pretty deep scratches and some flayed skin here.”

Those were the first words she’d spoken in a long while, and they answered his question–Willow wasn’t afraid of blood.  No, the bravery with which she mopped up his blood and laid pieces of ragged flesh flat again allayed his fears.  She wouldn’t faint on him.

“Do you have any liquor around here?” she asked him a moment later.

“Never touch the stuff,” he replied, making sure his tone suggested she not ask him any further questions.  He feared depending on liquor more than he feared a rattler in a foul mood.

“I thought you could use a bit for the pain, and some more to cleanse the wound.”

She bit her bottom lip as she contemplated what to do next.  As she did so, Ezra grew strangely pleased that Roberts had never knocked out any of her teeth.  They were ever so white and perfectly aligned.

“Well, if you want to make sure the wound is clean, there’s some salve out in the tack room.  It’s for the animals, but I’ve used it on myself a good many times as well.”

She hustled out to the barn and back in under a minute.  She pried the lid off of the salve and dipped her fingers in.  She clasped the can of salve in one hand and began spreading it with another, being careful not to peel back any torn skin.

“What do you think about stitches?” he asked her bent head.

“You’ll need them,” came her distracted reply.  “Any idea where I can find a needle, thread, and some bandages?”

He explained where they were in the bedroom closet.

She disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared in the kitchen with needle and thread and torn strips of material.  With steady hands, she sewed the deepest gashes on his arm shut with neat and regular stitches.  When she finished stitching, she applied more salve and set about wrapping his arm snuggly.

“There you go,” she said before stepping back from him.

“Mighty fine work, Willow.”  He stood and headed toward the bedroom.  She followed.

“You probably should lie down for a while,” she commented.

He laughed outright at that.  “Nap?  I have too much to do.  Beast needs unsaddled and the animals need fed. And I’ve got to make sure the water tank hasn’t run dry.  I have no time–”

“And if you do all that before that arm heals up, you’ll have gangrene for sure.  Next thing you know, you’ll be handing me an ax and asking me to take your arm off.  When your ranch hands get back, they can do it.  The men can handle the few things that have to be done,” she asserted.

She stopped talking then and stepped back from him.  That was the longest speech he’d ever heard her make.  She’d put her fear of him aside in order to express her fear for him.

“You have a point, but they’re out checking the herds.  It could be days before they come back, especially if they run into any trouble.”

“I’ll just help out then,” she said as she lifted her skirts and brushed by him.

He snagged her arm, and she looked back at him, some of the old fear in her eyes.  He explained, “Hang on there.  I’ll let you help, but let’s eat dinner first.  After that, I’ll take you outside and show you what I seem to need help with, ma’am.”

She smiled, and Ezra was glad he’d taken the time to see things her way.

ONCE SHE REACHED THE
barn, Willow couldn’t believe she’d spoken to him like that.  No man liked to be bossed around and she had done just that.  What had made her take that risk?

She feared she knew the answer–she was beginning to trust Ezra Boden despite everything she knew of men.  She hated herself for her weakness, her desire to be cared for and protected.  But it had been so long since there had been anyone she could rely on, and Boden made it so easy.  Her mind kept telling her that he was Butcher Boden; her heart kept ignoring the warning.

Grabbing the reins of his tall horse, she asked, “I’ve been curious, why do you call him Beast?”

“Because he’s huge,” Ezra replied, a wide grin splitting his face.

“I thought so.”  She shielded her eyes from the sun. It nearly blinded her when she had to look up at her husband.

“I named him that only for his appearance,” he said looking down on her, his merry eyes suddenly serious.  “His heart is as soft as a kitten’s, but he’s particular about his rider.”

“So I noticed.  He didn’t much like me riding him at first,” she commented thinking of her near escape on Beast’s back.  She couldn't help but think that there were some similarities between the horse and her husband: Boden appeared to be dangerous, but she had begun to see the gentle heart within.

She followed Boden into the barn and watched as he loosened the cinch for her.  He straightened and reached for the saddle.

“I should get that,” she ventured.

“He’s a tall horse,” Ezra said, nonetheless stepping aside.

She felt Boden’s eyes on her as she reached up to remove the saddle.  He looked ready to help her if she needed it.  With a heave she removed the saddle and headed toward the tack room.  She didn’t need his help in this, but it was nice to know he stood ready to offer it, ripped up forearm and all.  She only stumbled on a few of the dangling straps as she swiftly put the saddle away.

“Does your arm hurt much?” She brushed at the dust on her skirts as she returned to his side.

“Throbs a little,” Boden answered before changing the subject.  “You’re stronger than you look.”