“I can just imagine what he’s teaching you. Playing around with a friend at college is one thing. You were both just boys, but Chandler is a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Good manners be damned. Sam shook off Morley’s arm. “You don’t know Luke. He’s a good man.”
Morley placed his hand firmly on Sam’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. “Now look here, son. I’m trying to help you. Once you get a reputation for certain things, it’s near impossible to get rid of.”
Sam lifted his arm, flipping Morley’s hand off his shoulder. “I am not your son, and I’m never going to be your son-in-law no matter how high your aspirations of marrying into a Boston Brahmin family. Your daughter is no more interested in me than I am in her. Josephine is in love with the new reverend. She’s been gazing at him since he moved into town, and if you care to look, she’s talking to him now.”
Following Sam’s gaze, Morley saw Josephine’s pink cheeks and laughing mouth as she conversed with the reasonably attractive young reverend. “I’ll whup that girl’s behind,” he said through his teeth, then indicated the younger girl sitting quietly with her mother. “There’s always Veronica. She’s easier to control. Look, Sam, my point is, you have to get away from Chandler before your reputation is destroyed. You have a family name to keep up. Chandler has nothing to lose. You have everything.”
“I’m going home, Mr. Morley, and I’ll thank you not to talk about Luke.”
Spreading his hands in exasperation, Morley said, “I’m going to write to your family and tell them what you’re up to. Someone’s got to help you, Sam.”
Walking away, Sam called over his shoulder, “If that’s what you plan to do, then I can’t stop you, Mr. Morley.”
Hurt and angered by the encounter, Sam walked through town to where he’d left Pip hitched outside the Beardsley Hotel. Just about everyone in town was at the picnic, leaving Main Street all but empty. He was glad not to come across anyone, because polite conversation was beyond him just then.
Between the Beardsley Hotel and Mr. Power’s tailor shop was an alley. With the sun was in his eyes, Sam did not know that two men were behind him until they dragged him into the shadows of the alley and threw him up against the side of the Beardsley Hotel.
His heart began to thud. He knew the men by sight. One was the man who had tripped him in church. The other worked at the grain mill. “I have no fight with you gentlemen. I’ll be on my way.” His calm voice belied the sick anxiety in his gut that threatened to bring up the food he’d eaten with the Morleys. He tried to push his way past the men, but they crowded in on him, making his escape impossible. He had no idea who threw the first punch, nor the second or third. By the time he heard the gunshot, he was on the dusty ground with a foot thrust hard in his belly, the breath knocked out of him and pain screaming through his head.
“Get the fuck away from him, you cocksuckers.”
With his rifle tucked under his arm to steady his aim and his revolver in his other hand, Luke faced the men. Sam managed to get to his knees, looking up at Luke with intense gratitude. Luke fired a shot at the foot of one of the men, grazing his boot and making the man leap up and down. “Whose idea was this?”
Neither man spoke but just looked at each other.
“Sam, who started this?”
“I don’t know.” With difficulty he got to his feet. “They both did it.” He looked at the men. “Cowards. Both of you.”
“Get your gun out.”
Sam obeyed, though he’d never fired at another human being. He limped over to Luke, holding on to his belly as pain ripped through him.
“Cover me,” Luke said.
Sam watched as Luke approached the men. They were armed but didn’t risk going for their weapons. Luke took out his pistol and whipped them across the faces with it, then fired into the air. “Get outta here!”
The men ran for the street while Luke fired another couple of shots at their heels.
“Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”
In the street Pretty Girl stood untethered near Pip. Luke helped Sam up onto Pip’s back and took the rein. He mounted Pretty Girl and led them out of town while Sam leaned over Pip’s neck, unable to sit up.
The ride out to the claim was usually less than an hour, but with Sam near unconscious, Luke took it slow. The sun was high and the heat oppressive, scorching them as they rode.
At the claim at last, Luke helped Sam down, letting the horses wander off. “They won’t go far, and they’ll stay together,” he said. “Can you walk?”
“Just about.”
Luke helped him into the house and over to the bed, where Sam sank down heavily. He pulled Sam’s boots off first and then stripped off his clothes to assess the damage.
“What does my face look like?” Sam asked.
“Oh, shut up. Your face is fine. Don’t be so damn vain.” Luke said it in a jocular tone, but his furrowed forehead and hard-set mouth showed his concern.
Sam forced a weak laugh. “Sorry. How did you know? I mean, what made you follow me?”
“I don’t trust people, and I have good reason to feel that way.”
Going in and out of consciousness, Sam was aware of Luke washing the blood from his face, and at some point he smelled Dr. A.W. Allen’s Southern Liniment and knew that Luke was rubbing his body with it. With Luke taking care of him, he would be fine. At last he drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
On the third morning Luke was so worried about Sam that he rode over to Lake Henry, where he’d heard a doctor lived, though he was terrified to leave Sam alone for the couple of hours the journey would take there and back. Asking around the small town, he was led to a house with a shingle outside declaring Dr. Cal Haines lived there. He sat in the waiting room for another hour until it was his turn.
“He’s rambling, and he hasn’t really regained his senses since I found him,” Luke told the doctor as they rode back to the claim. He’d had to pay cash to get the doctor to come at all.
“I expect people to come to my surgery. I don’t go to homes unless a patient can’t come to me. I’m doing this as a favor.”
Angry but holding it back, Luke said, “I appreciate that. He’s not fit to travel even in a wagon. I think his ribs might be broken.” For the past three days he’d been terrified Sam was going to die. He’d seen men survive a fight before, then die a week later because their lungs had collapsed or they were bleeding inside. He wanted the man to understand how important Sam was to him, but how could he without lying? After this, Luke would never trust anyone ever again.
“And who did you say he is?”
“My little brother.”
“And he was thrown by his horse?”
“That’s right.”
The doctor rode at an irritatingly slow pace. Every time Luke tried to go faster, he just trailed behind, refusing to make his horse trot. Luke’s anger and agitation did not begin to subside until he saw the shanty outlined against the big prairie sky. At last, inside the cool, dim shanty, the doctor examined Sam, who lay naked under the sheet, it being too hot for the quilt. “Is he pissing every day?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” Luke said.
“And drinking?”
“Yes, but not eating.”
When the doctor ran his hands over Sam’s ribs, pressing here and there, Sam cried out, making Luke, who had been staying back from the bed, come quickly forward. “Don’t hurt him.”
The doctor looked him up and down. Luke guessed that the look on his face said more than his mouth was saying about his concern for Sam. “Your
brother
”—he said the word as if he knew the truth—“has a couple of broken ribs, and his liver is swollen. He looks to me like he’s been in a brawl. Does he drink?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Luke said.
“Was he beaten up?”
“I told you. He fell off his horse.”
From his bag the doctor took bandages. He bound Sam’s ribs tightly and gave Luke a bottle of tablets. “Those are for pain. He can have one in the morning and one at night. Don’t give him any more than that; they’re very strong. They’ll make him sleep soundly. He’ll start to get better in about a week. Try to get him to drink beef broth, no fat until the liver swelling goes down, which should take a couple more weeks. If he stops pissing or if his piss looks dark, come and get me again. That’ll mean his kidneys are failing, and there’s a fair amount of bruising around his lower back, so that worries me. Have you spoken to the sheriff?”
“There’s no sheriff in De Smet,” Luke told him.
“There’s one in Volga. Send a telegraph. They have to come and investigate.”
“Investigate a man falling off his horse?” Luke had no intention of sending for a sheriff. He’d taken care of the problem as far as he was concerned.
“I’ll come by again in four or five days unless I hear from you first.”
“He’s not going to die, is he? I’ve seen men die a week or more after…”
“After they’ve had the shit kicked out of them?” the doctor questioned. “I’ve listened to his lungs. They’re fine.”
Relieved to see him go, Luke sat on the side of the bed, watching for any signs of alertness from Sam. The moment his eyes fluttered open, the young man’s face screwed up with pain. “Wait.” Luke got a pill and a mug of water. He helped Sam sit up to take the pill. “The doctor said these will keep the pain away.”
Sam drifted back to sleep while Luke tried to figure out how he could get some beef broth. He’d have to go into town to buy some beef and cook it, though he wasn’t sure exactly how to do it.
“Sam, sweetheart, I’m going into town to see if I can get something to make broth for you.” But Sam was deeply asleep and made no response.
Outside Pretty Girl was still saddled and wandering around grazing. Luke whistled, and she came to him right away. Luke put the padlock on the door to be sure Sam was safe and then mounted the horse. He took it slow riding into town since the animal had already been for a long ride in the hot sun. If Doc Haines was right, Sam should sleep the whole time.
Town was as busy as it usually was on a weekday. No one greeted Luke when he hitched the horse outside Barker’s Grocery. But when he stepped up onto the boardwalk, a man spat at his feet and walked away. Everyone in town knew what had happened and why. The knot in Luke’s belly, which had started to form the closer he got to town, felt like it was going to rise into his throat to choke him. He felt murderous. Two no-good bums had beaten his beautiful man, and the town was acting like he was the problem. This was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid when he’d come to De Smet.
As he walked into Barker’s, the store fell silent. A woman with a small girl grabbed the child by the arm and hurried out, letting the door slam behind her. You’d have thought that he’d walked in with horns and a tail the way they were acting. Luke walked up to the counter where Mr. Barker wrapped up a woman’s purchases. When he was done and had taken her money, Luke opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Barker turned and walked away from the counter to serve someone else.
“I was next, Barker,” Luke said loudly.
“You’re not welcome in this store. I’m not serving you,” the man said.
“You’re going to serve me,” Luke said. “Or I’ll fucking make you.”
“There’s no need for that kind of language in front of ladies. But you don’t like ladies, do you, Chandler?”
Luke took two or three long strides toward the man, who dodged around the stovepipe, putting the stove between him and Luke. “You may need a stovepipe to protect you from me, but Sam had no one to protect him when two bullies from this town beat him up after church last Sunday. Now he’s so sick the doc from Lake Henry says he needs beef broth because it’s the only thing he can eat right now, and you’re going to serve me with it.”
Mrs. Barker walked over and took Luke by the elbow. She was a short, stocky woman wearing a black dress with a broach at the throat. She had a no-nonsense approach to business. “Mr. Chandler, I’ll serve you. Come over here, please. I’m sorry to hear Mr. Smith got hurt. He’s a lovely young man. Now do you want to make beef broth from scratch? Because I’d suggest beef extract in packets. Doctors recommend it all the time as a restorative.”
“Is it the same stuff?” Luke asked, grateful to get some assistance.
“Yes. It’s easier to make, and it keeps for months without spoiling. You put a packetful in a mug, add boiling water, and stir. It’s that simple.” She fetched a box from the shelf and took out several packets, laying them out on the counter. “How many do you want?”
Luke picked one up to read the label.
Beef broth just like Mother made. Restores your strength like nothing else
. “Enough for a week until he’s strong enough to eat.”
Mrs. Barker wrapped up the packets in brown paper. “Anything else?”
“That should do it, ma’am.” Luke thanked her and paid, inexpressibly grateful for her kindness. At the door he turned around, saying to everyone who was watching him, “If anyone else in this town thinks they’re not going to serve me in their business, they’ll have a fight on their hands. Spread the word.”
In the street a group of men had gathered. Luke ignored them until he had mounted his horse. “You got something to say?” he asked loudly. When he got no answer, he rode out of town. It wasn’t until he was out on the prairie with the town in the distance that he realized he was shaking. Not with fear but with anger.
Chapter Fifteen
“Come on, boy. Drink up.” Luke held the mug, tipping it to encourage Sam to finish the beef extract.
“I think I can eat today, and I’m getting sick of that beef broth.”
Every day Sam had improved a little while Luke tended him like a mother hen with a baby chick. He stroked Sam’s bruised face while the younger man sat up in bed, leaning on both pillows. “That’s good. But beef broth from a packet is easy to make. You might start getting sick again on my cooking.”
“That’s true.” Sam gave him a crooked smile. “I’m just glad I didn’t lose any teeth.”
“Don’t worry. Your pretty face will get back to normal soon,” Luke said. “Come on, finish this broth, and I’ll make you some mashed potatoes. I think I can manage that without poisoning you, and you should be able to eat it with no trouble.”
Sam reached out, taking Luke’s hand in his. “You’ve taken such good care of me.”