Montana Sky: Christmas With The Jones's (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The Jones's of Morgan's Crossing Book 5) Read online

  “Oh!” Merry got to her feet, grabbed her shawl off a chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Where?”

  Katie pointed behind her. “The forest on the other side of your field. We were chasing Esmeralda and found him. She likes your place.”

  Merry was familiar with Esmeralda – in fact, she suspected the greedy sow had been the beast raiding her garden of late, but hadn’t wanted to complain to the Joneses without proof. “I see. Take me to the man.” She grabbed George’s canteen that hung from a peg near the stove, hurried to the pump, filled it, then followed Katie across her small field and into the woods beyond, all the while wondering how badly hurt the man might be.

  When they got there he was still unconscious. “Oh merciful heavens,” Merry whispered.

  “I think someone shot him,” Wylie volunteered, pointing to the man’s damp trouser leg.

  Merry thought he might be right. “Help me turn him over, children,” she said, and being careful of the man’s injured leg, the three set to work. He was heavy, and the wound in his upper thigh had been bleeding long enough for him to pass out and stay out. She glanced around, wondering if he’d fallen off a horse. If so, then it was likely nearby, but she didn’t see it.

  Once they had him on his back she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, poured water on it and dabbed at his face. “Sir? Can you hear me?”

  “He didn’t hear me when I talked to him,” Wylie said. “Maybe he’ll wake up for you.”

  “Maybe.” Merry poured more water on her handkerchief. “Sir?”

  The man moaned as she wiped his face.

  “Oh thank heaven!” Merry turned to Wylie. “Did you happen to see a horse?”

  “No, ma’am, but we didn’t look for one.”

  “Look now, but don’t go far.” She glanced at the overcast sky. “It will be dark soon, and you’ll have to head home.”

  “But Esmeralda!” Katie said in alarm.

  “Is probably in my garden,” Merry finished. She’d seen the pig heading there as she and Katie left the house, but the wounded man was more important – especially since there was nothing left of the garden now but weeds and stems. Nonetheless, she’d speak with the Joneses later about it.

  The man moaned again.

  “Sir, can you hear me?” Merry repeated. “Can you talk?”

  He opened one black eye, then the other, and stared at her. “Am I dead?”

  Merry sighed in relief. “No, thank heaven, but you’re hurt.” She glanced at his leg. “It looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood. Can you stand?”

  “Dunno. Help me.”

  She did, getting him to a sitting position with an effort. “Okay, are you comfortable?”

  “Horse,” the man rasped.

  “So you did have one.” Merry looked at Wylie. “I said go look for it. Go, go.” Wylie finally went.

  “Yeah. Thing got spooked … bucked me off. Hit my head on a tree root ‘n …” He wavered and started to fall towards her.

  Merry held him upright, then noticed Wylie had come back. “I didn’t see no horse around.”

  “Whistle,” the stranger said.

  Merry, Katie and Wylie all exchanged the same look. “Whistle?” Katie said, perplexed.

  The man tried to whistle and failed.

  “I can do it.” Wylie put his pinkie fingers in the corners of his mouth and whistled loudly.

  “Yeah, like that …” The man teetered and promptly passed out.

  “No, no, no …” Merry pleaded.

  But she was cut off by a neighing in the distance. The children smiled ear to ear. “It worked!” Katie said. “Wylie, do it again!” He did, and within moments they heard the horse trotting toward them through the tress.

  “Oh my,” Merry said when she caught sight of it. He was a beautiful black stallion with a long, flowing mane and tail, and big enough to easily carry the man slumped in her arms. Not your run-of-the-mill nag, that was for sure. Was the man heading for the Jones Ranch on business?

  She turned back to the man, his head resting against her bosom, and belatedly realized how handsome he was. She felt something stir deep within, then just as suddenly was gone. “Children, I’m going to try to rouse him again. I think his head is a bigger concern at this point. When I do, we’ll have to try to get him on his horse.”

  Wylie, who despite his youth was used to horses, had the stallion by the reins at this point. “Who is he, Widow Bright? Do you know?”

  “No, I’ve never seen him before.” She dabbed his face with her handkerchief again. “Sir, wake up. We can’t do this without you.” He was heavy, and she gently laid him down again to continue her ministrations.

  Katie shook her head. “We sure can’t. He’s real big.”

  The man stirred again and his eyes fluttered open. “M-ma’am?”

  “Oh thank the Lord,” Merry whispered. “Don’t pass out again. We’ll never get you out of here.”

  He blinked at her a few times. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the woods behind my cabin. We need you to stand if you’re able.”

  “Lemme … try sitting up first,” he said weakly.

  That was good enough for Merry. Once they got him back to the cabin, she’d have to see Wylie and Katie home, then see if anyone from the ranch could come take a look at him. She’d never be able to get him to see Doc Rawlings in town on her own. But didn’t one of the Jones women know a little about medicine? The trio helped the man sit up, and once again Merry held him in place. “Is your horse gentle?”

  He blinked again. “Yeah. Usually.”

  “Good. Katie, take the reins from your brother. Wylie, help me get him up.”

  The man took a shuddering breath and, to everyone’s amazement, made a clicking sound. The horse came right over, so close that Merry had to scoot out of the way or get stepped on.

  Katie was pulled along, still holding the reins. “He’s too big for me to stop him.”

  “It’s okay, sweetie – he’s doing what his master wants.” Merry looked at the man. “Now what?”

  “Move, all of ya,” he rasped.

  They did, Katie going as far as the reins would allow. The man made another clicking sound, and everyone else watched in awe as the horse got down on one front knee, then the other and lay next to him.

  “Ma’am? A little help?”

  Between Merry, Wylie and the horse, the man was soon back in the saddle. He gripped the saddle horn. “Stand back.” They did, and as soon as they were out of the way, the horse got to his feet, almost unseating the man as it did. Katie let out an excited yelp and clapped her hands, dropping the reins.

  The man smiled at her. “I’d have him do more tricks, honey, but I hafta hold on.”

  “Please do,” Merry said as she took the reins. She took a deep breath, said a little prayer, then led the horse and rider out of the woods.

  Three

  After a harrowing ride for the man, they reached the cabin, where they found that the horse getting down to let the man on was one thing, but to let him off was another. Merry could see he was unable to support his weight should he fall, but before she could prevent it he slid off, landing in a heap. She cringed and rushed to his side. “Are you all right?” she asked with concern.

  He groaned as the horse wandered toward Merry’s garden where Esmeralda was rooting in the dirt. The horse took one look at the pig and decided to graze elsewhere.

  “Boy … fetch my horse,” the stranger mumbled.

  Wylie grabbed the horse by the reins and brought him back. “Should I put him in the barn, Widow Bright?”

  “Yes, Wylie, good idea. I don’t think Mr., um …”

  “Hunter,” the man croaked and tried to stand, but fell to his knees.

  With Merry’s help, he got up again and made it to the porch steps, dumping himself onto them like water from a pitcher. “You can’t stay there,” Merry said worriedly.

  “Don’t … plan to, ma’am. Resting. Dizzy.”

/>   “I see. I’ll fetch you some water.” Even as she said it, she wanted to kick herself – she should’ve offered him some when she’d first roused him. And she still had the canteen with her, so what was there to fetch? Some nurse she was. She and Katie helped him sit up before she lifted it to his mouth. As he drank greedily, she propped him against the banister. “There. Now, Katie, could you go fetch your pig?”

  Katie left the steps and went straight for Esmeralda, singing, “Piggy, piggy, piggy go – piggy, piggy, don’t you know?”

  “Know what?” Merry muttered.

  “Whazzat, ma’am?” Mr. Hunter asked.

  “Nothing.” She helped him drink some more. “Are you still dizzy?”

  “Yes,” he said, eyes half-closed.

  She corked the canteen. “Can you make it inside?”

  “Gimme a moment, please.”

  “Take all the time you need. Can you stay sitting up?”

  He opened his eyes the rest of the way and grimaced. “I’ll do my best.”

  Merry jumped up and went into the house, looked at the bed, then at her Bible next to it on a small table. What was she thinking? She couldn’t let him stay here, not alone with her! But … the man was hurt. She could always sleep in the barn, but she couldn’t turn him away. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me, echoed in her head from the Gospels. Her job was clear.

  Which meant the next step was to get him inside. She went out to the barn and brought back Wylie, figuring she’d need all the help she could get. “Gee, Mister, you’re heavy!” Wylie exclaimed as he and Merry helped the man to his feet.

  “Thanks,” the man said – teasing or not, she couldn’t tell. His voice was weak and the way he wobbled into the house told her he was still dizzy. Head injuries could be dangerous, she knew, and she hoped he didn’t die in her care. Not that she could give him much care anyway.

  They got him onto the bed amidst grunts and groans, then stepped back. “Okay, Wylie, I need to get you and your sister – and your pig – home,” Merry announced.

  “But what about his leg?” Wylie asked.

  Merry slapped her hands over her face and let them slide down to her chin. “Merciful heavens, I forgot about his leg.”

  “Don’t worry, Widow Bright,” Wylie said. “It’s still light out. We can get home by ourselves.”

  She turned to the boy in a panic. The Jones Ranch was almost two miles down the road, less if they went through the woods, which they probably had …

  “Really, we can,” Wylie said as if she didn’t believe him the first time.

  But that wasn’t what she was worried about. She was alone with this stranger, with no medical skills, no medicine, no food except what she could forage for or squirt from Mrs. Robbins. How could she possibly take care of him? Or for that matter, herself? She despised asking for help, but she knew that now she had no choice. It would be one thing if it was just her, but she couldn’t let this poor traveler die due to her pride. “All right, I’ll tend Mister …” She looked at their patient.

  “Hunter,” he repeated.

  “… Hunter, while you fetch your father. Tell him I have an injured man here.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Wylie was out the door before she could blink. Within moments, he returned, Katie on his heels. “I took care of your horse, Mister! I think he’s hungry, though.”

  “Oh dear,” Merry said to herself. She had a little hay, but it was for Mrs. Robbins.

  “We’ll bring back something for him,” Wylie said, as if reading her thoughts.

  “Thank you, Wylie. And please hurry.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” he said again, grabbed Katie by the hand and ran out.

  Merry sighed, went to the stove and checked the fire. She’d need hot water to cleanse his wound. Grabbing a bucket, she went out to the pump and stopped. “Oh no, what have I done?” She should have kept Katie with her and sent Wylie home by himself. Well, it was okay, as long as … she looked over and saw Esmeralda still rooting in her garden. Sure enough, they’d forgotten that thrice-cursed pig. “I’ll deal with you later,” she grumbled, filled the bucket and went back inside.

  “Widowed,” the man said as she entered.

  Merry started at the sound of his voice. “What?”

  “Boy called you … Widow Bright.”

  She poured water into a pot and put it on the stove. “Yes.” She wasn’t used to speaking to a man alone. She wasn’t used to being with a man alone, period, and suddenly wished Wylie and Katie were still there.

  He groaned, pulling her from her thoughts. “Water …”

  “Oh! I’m terribly sorry.” She brought him the canteen and helped him sit up.

  He leaned to one side, bumping into her and sloshing the water. “Sorry,” he rasped. “So sorry …”

  “No harm done.” She propped him against the pillows and the wall behind him, made sure he didn’t list to either side and gave him the canteen. He took several swallows and closed his eyes, his mouth half-open. “Mr. Hunter?”

  He slowly opened his eyes. “Sleepy …” He took another drink, spilling part of it down his shirt front.

  She set the canteen aside, then looked at his leg. Blood soaked his upper thigh. The bullet must have missed the artery, or he’d be dead already. With any luck, it only grazed him, or it might still be bleeding.

  “Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes. “Yer an angel.”

  Merry laughed. “Hardly,” she said, feeling queasy. She never did like the sight of blood, and hoped she didn’t faint when she saw the actual wound. “The real help will be here soon. Just please hang on.”

  He swallowed and opened one eye. “Thank you.”

  “You said that already.”

  “I know, but … case I pass out again … thought I’d mention it.”

  She looked him over. Was it his head that wearied him? His leg? Both? Of course, both! Merry, you ninny!

  He swallowed again, eyes still closed. “Where … your children?”

  She stared at him a moment, then realized whom he had to mean. “I don’t have any children. Wylie and Katie live down the road a piece – they’ve gone to get help.”

  “Help.” His voice was so soft she barely heard him.

  “Hang on, Mr. Hunter, please hang on.” A chill went up her spine. “Talk to me.”

  “Too tired …”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please stay awake and talk to me. Stay with me!” Panic began to grip her. He’d gone quite pale, his breathing shallow. “Please!”

  He opened his eyes and gazed at her. “Yer beautiful.”

  She pulled back. “What?”

  “Boo-ful …”

  She gulped. What was she supposed to do with that? Nothing, you silly woman, she thought, just keep him awake. She remembered Doc Rawlings telling her how important it was to keep a person with certain head injuries awake. Did Mr. Hunter suffer that kind? How could she tell? All she knew was that George had died of a head injury he got when he fell off the roof. The fool was drunk, tried to fix some loose shingles and …

  Merry turned and looked out the window. It would be dark in a couple of hours. “Please, children, please bring help.”

  * * *

  Colson heard a sweet voice but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Or whom – a child? A woman? “Mr. Hunter, can you hear me?” it begged. “Wake up.”

  Hmmm, definitely a woman. And she sounded desperate. He forced one eye open. Ohhhh, it was a pretty one …

  “Oh thank the Lord!” she exclaimed. “Now stay awake! You can’t fall asleep!”

  He opened his other eye to see what all the fuss was about. “Widow …” He wondered why he sounded so pathetic. Had he been drinking?

  “Yes, you heard the children call me that.” She smiled shyly. “They called me Widow Bright.”

  “I knew a Mr. Bright once,” he said weakly. “Back in … where was …?” His head lolled to the side.
Now that was odd.

  “Mr. Hunter!”

  Colson tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “Water?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said. A few seconds later, a hand was behind his head, a jug or canteen at his lips. He choked down what he could. He should be sitting up to drink properly. “Help …” he croaked. What was the matter with him?

  “Oh my. Um …”

  He looked at his erstwhile nurse. “Problem?”

  “It’s just that you’re so … so …” She gave him an apologetic look. “You’re very big.”

  His eyebrows rose in amusement despite his circumstances – whatever they were. Though judging by the look on her face, they couldn’t be good. “Try.”

  She put a hand to her mouth to stifle what sounded like something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh dear. Well, I suppose …”

  “Much obliged.” He braced his hands against the mattress to help.

  She took hold of his shoulders, intending to pull him up. He pushed as she did, and rose with a little triumph and a lot of nausea. She noticed the look on his face, yelped, “Oh dear!”, grabbed a chamber pot from under the bed and got it in front of him just in time.

  It took a couple of minutes to empty his gullet, and he was sure he looked utterly pitiful throughout. “Thank you,” Colson repeated once he stopped retching, then promptly fell back against the pillows and prayed for the dizziness to pass.

  “I knew sitting up wasn’t a good idea,” the woman muttered.

  He tried to smile, but couldn’t tell if he succeeded. “What … what’s your name?”

  “Oh yes. Merry Bright, at your service.”

  “S’v’ce … my mother was named Mary …”

  “I doubt she spelled it the same,” she replied. “Mine is short for Meredith.”

  “Oh,” he said weakly. He was so sleepy. “Widow …”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice lower. “Widow Bright, that’s what they call me.” She sighed.

  He could almost picture her looking at her hands, opened one eye to see if he was right, and danged if he wasn’t – not just looking at them, but wringing them. “Hey now, don’t do that.” Had he said that out loud? He wasn’t sure.