Caring for the Cowboy Page 3

  Of course, she had another problem besides finding her father. She took a deep breath and hiked back to the cabin, slipped inside and studied the man on the bed. His forehead had bled quite a bit. Blood covered the mattress on the right side of his head and still oozed from the wound. His arms had been pulled up and tied to the head of the cot, his feet tied to the other end. “Where are his boots?” she whispered. Someone had removed them, and they weren’t in the cabin.

  Maja slowly approached the cot. “Hello?” No response. She got closer. Bound as he was, there was no chance of him attacking her – or Pa, come to that …

  She suddenly straightened. If Pa had tied him up, then … “Oh no … oh no, no, no!” She ran outside, took one look at Bo and noticed their saddlebags were gone. “Oh no! Pa, tell me you didn’t.” She looked at Bo again, then the door, and knew he had. She could put it all together – Pa was the one who’d clobbered this man, stolen his horse and his boots, tied him up here and left him to rot along with Bo …

  … and her.

  Her hands flew to her mouth. Never mind that horse thieving could get a man lynched in most places – someone might think she was an accomplice. With Pa gone, she was alone, completely and utterly alone. Her father had abandoned her, probably for good.

  Maja sank to her knees as the tears fell. How could he do this to her? She’d always known it was possible, that he didn’t really care for anything anymore except his next bellyful of rotgut, but now that it had happened, she wasn’t sure she could handle the blow of knowing that her own father didn’t want her.

  She knelt on the cold ground for who knew how long, until there were no more tears left. Then she heard a groan from inside the cabin. What was she going to do about the man Pa had beat up and robbed? Did she dare tell him it was her father? She got to her feet, wiped her eyes and went to face the man on the cot. She’d have to untie him, first of all …

  She stopped just short of the door and glanced at Bo, thinking about just going. But … “No, I can’t do that. He’s wounded.” She went inside, approaching the man with caution. His eyes were closed but he was moving his head back and forth, moaning through the gag. “Hello?” she said softly.

  He opened his good eye as he followed the sound of her voice. “Mmmph!”

  Maja pulled her hat lower over her forehead and took another step toward him. “You’re hurt,” she said in her practiced rasp.

  “Grrmph.” He grimaced in pain.

  Summoning her courage, she went to the bed and examined his head wound. She should fetch a doctor. But what if she was arrested? Confusion hit fast and hard. She’d never been in such a mess before. As bad as Pa was, he still took care of a lot of things. She didn’t have to think too hard about when they packed up and moved – when Pa said go, she went. He kept them out of trouble when he gambled too much or swiped something. She didn’t question, she just did what she was told.

  “Mm-mmph?”

  Maja rolled her eyes in frustration. She’d have to untie him – it was the right thing to do. But would he turn around and truss her to the cot or a chair, then fetch the sheriff? That was a risk she’d have to take. “I … I didn’t do this to you,” she said in her practiced rasp.

  “Cmph?” He looked at her as if she must be joking.

  Her next words came out in a raspy rush. “So promise me you won’t hurt me or tie me up or call the sheriff or nothing because it’s not my fault you promise?”

  The man’s brow furrowed as he looked at her. Did he even understand a word she said? Then he nodded gingerly “Mm pmmhph.”

  “Okay.” Maja reached for his bound hands and cringed when she recognized the knots. In his younger days Pa had sailed on a merchant ship, and had taught her how to tie all sorts of fancy knots when she was little. This one was difficult to undo. She closed her eyes a moment. Oh, Pa, what were you thinking?

  She fumbled with the knot for a moment or two, wishing she could cut him loose instead. There was a hunting knife in the saddlebags Pa took. She knelt at the head of the cot and tried using her teeth, but it was no use. She looked at his bound feet and found the same problem. Here she was trying to help the man and couldn’t even untie him! Pathetic. And how mad was he going to be when he realized his position?

  His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even. Was he asleep, or had he passed out again?

  Maja stood, wrung her hands and paced. This was bad, very bad. She went outside and began to look for a sharp rock. She found one, hurried back in and began to try to saw through his bonds

  He groaned, and she jumped away and stared at him. He looked back with his one unswollen eye.

  Without a word she knelt at the head of the cot again and returned to cutting the rope. She didn’t recognize it and figured it must belong to the man himself. Pa must have used it to tie him up. Thoughts of her father beating and robbing this poor man made her eyes grow hot with tears. She felt ashamed of Pa more than she ever had before. How could he do such a thing? And how could he leave her?

  “Kmm-mm-mph …”

  Maja froze, then pulled at the rope. She was making headway. She noted his wrists were raw. Had he struggled? She sawed faster.

  It took a good ten minutes, but she finally freed the man’s wrists. She went outside and fetched the bucket, which thankfully had a little water left in it from last night. Now she just needed something to clean the man’s head wound and scraped wrists.

  He opened both eyes now and looked at her. He hadn’t moved his arms yet - they were still in the same position. She gently pulled them down, resting his hands on his chest, then noticed the bandana around his neck. Pa had gagged him with his own, one she’d given him years ago as a present. She untied the gag and pulled it from his mouth.

  The man coughed and rasped a few times before going silent. Maybe he was hurt worse than she thought. Maja’s eyes went wide. What if he died? Then Pa would be a murderer! She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. How could he do such a thing?

  “Hi there,” the man said weakly. He swallowed, took a gulp of air, then looked panicked, turned his head to the side and retched. Maja jumped out of the way just in time.

  She took one look at the pitiful soul and knew what she had to do. Careful of the mess, she knelt at his side once more, untied his own bandana, dipped it in the bucket, wrung it out and wiped the man’s mouth with it.

  He swallowed again. “Water?”

  She glanced around. Pa had even taken the cups they used. She looked into the eyes of the poor man on the cot and her heart went out to him. She dipped Pa’s bandana into the water this time, helped him raise his head and wrung what she could into his mouth.

  “Much obliged,” he rasped. He lay back, breathing as if such a simple thing took all his strength. He looked at her, and she fought back her panic to remain where she was. “Who are you?”

  She shook her head. Words refused to come out. How could she tell him her own father had done this? She gave him another drink, then used Pa’s kerchief to dab at his wound.

  “I think I need … a doctor.”

  Maja stopped, stared at him and nodded.

  “Y’don’t talk?”

  Without thinking, she shook her head. But wait a minute. Did he not remember her panicked spill of words from earlier? He must be hurt worse than she thought.

  “You mean ya can’t talk?”

  What could she say to make any of this right? Best to stick with what she normally did. Keep as silent as possible. She licked her dry lips and tried, “not much.”

  He barely nodded and closed his eye, clearly too hurt to do much else. No wonder he forgot her gush of words when she first found him. Pa must have hit him really hard.

  Maja noted his feet were still bound and wondered if he even realized it. But first she had to fetch more water – he was thirsty and she needed to clean his wounds. It was the least she could do after what Pa did to him.

  She hurried from the cabin, ran all the way to the creek and filled th
e bucket, staring at her reflection in the water as she did. Maybe if she took care of the cowboy and didn’t say anything stupid, she could get out of this unscathed. She didn’t relish spending time in jail for Pa’s crimes. She wasn’t sure she could be arrested for it, but the cowboy up the hill might think otherwise. Best she take care of him for now, and maybe by some miracle find Pa. He couldn’t have gotten far.

  She hauled the bucket up the hill, huffing and puffing as she entered the cabin – and found he’d thrown up again. He was grimacing, with his hands at his sides. She stared at him in concern, wondering what to do. And the only answer that came to mind was: what had to be done.

  Maja nodded, dumped some water onto the mess on the floor and using a dirty rag the previous resident had left, began to scrub away the vomit. After, she’d deal with his wounds, cut his feet free and … whatever else had to be done.

  Baxter’s stomach rolled. In fact, if he didn’t know any better he’d say the cot he was on was swinging like a hammock and he couldn’t make it stop. Thank Heaven for the boy that found him. Did he live there? But if he was someone’s prisoner, why was the boy helping him? And what about the old codger that managed to get the drop on him? Consarnit, how could he let such a thing happen? And where was Jake? Oh Lord, had he been stolen? He moaned at the thought. Jake was a good horse.

  A cool cloth touched his forehead and he relaxed a moment. He was angry, sick and – much to his dismay – helpless as a baby.

  He pried one eye open and looked at the boy doing his best to help him. He was dirty and stunk to high Heaven, or was that him? He did retch, didn’t he? Judging from the taste of bile in his mouth, yes. Opening the other eye – ouch! – he watched the boy clean the floor next to the cot. Yep, he’d lost his breakfast.

  He was in a bad way and wondered if the boy knew enough to fetch Doc Thompson. But he didn’t recognize the lad from anywhere. Come to think of it, he didn’t recognize the man that hit him with a frying pan either. Not that he remembered much of anything other than getting bonked on the head. He licked his lips. “Water,” he managed.

  The boy looked at him with wide, amber eyes, then reached for the bucket, dipped a cloth in it, then helped him up just enough to drink. He felt the boy’s arms shake from the effort, and tried bracing his elbows against the mattress to make the job easier. Water dripped into his mouth and down his face. He tasted blood and bile and wished he was back at Cooper’s place eating pie, drinking coffee and feeling sorry for himself. Anything was better than this.

  The lad helped him to lie back, his eyes so full of concern it warmed Baxter’s heart. “I’ll be all right,” he said. Land sakes, even talking made him feel sick. “Might take a spell.”

  The boy smiled, dipped another cloth in the bucket and began to clean Baxter’s wound with it.

  “How bad?”

  The boy stopped his ministrations and swallowed hard. “Dunno,” he finally said. The boy tended to talk as if he’d get punished if he was caught at it.

  “Well, I’m sure it probably looks worse than it is,” Baxter said weakly. At least he hoped so. He looked at the boy again. “Ya gotta name, son?”

  The boy’s eyes widened.

  “Just thought I’d ask.” Baxter closed his eyes. The lad was probably scared. Had he seen anything – like where the lowdown snake that did this to him went? He forced his eyes open, having trouble with one. He reached up and touched it. “Ow.”

  The boy took his hand from his eye and put it back onto his chest.

  “Yeah, reckon I’d better leave it be.” He turned his head just enough to get a better look at the lad. “Y’know Doc Thompson?” he said, his voice cracking. He was weaker than he thought.

  The boy shook his head.

  “I think … I think maybe ya better …” A wave of dizziness caught him by surprise. He shut his eyes tight and moaned.

  A hand was on his arm, another at his forehead. The boy was attentive, he’d give him that. He was also keeping Baxter alive. For now. He didn’t know a lot about head injuries other than they could be dangerous. Lucky for him he was fairly close to town. He just had to talk his nursemaid into fetching the doc.

  But what if he couldn’t? He was tied to a cot, for crying out loud. What if the boy had something to do with the man that attacked him and stole Jake? What if the dirty varmint was still lurking about somewhere? What if …

  Baxter didn’t come up with any answers before he fainted again.

  Maja put her hands on the stranger and shook him. “Mister?” Not only did he think she was a boy, but almost mute as well? That was to her advantage. Once he got his strength back, he might remember her earlier rush of words then put two and two together. If he figure out she was related to the man that robbed him and stole his horse he might take it out on her. In the meantime, however, she needed to take care of him, but how? If she fetched the doctor, he would start asking questions, lots of questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer …

  “Well, I see you found your present.”

  Maja jumped to her feet. “You! What are you doing …?” She cocked her head to one side. “What did you say?”

  Myrtle strolled into the cabin, wearing a fine day dress, though her hair was still a wild mess. “Handsome, isn’t he?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping you, of course. My, but that’s a nasty wound – you’ll have to stitch that.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.”

  “And why not?”

  “… I don’t know how.”

  Myrtle sighed in impatience. “Well, there’s no help for it, then. You’ll just have to fetch the doctor.”

  Maja took an involuntary step back. “But I … I can’t.”

  “Why not? Look at the poor man! I must say, your father left him in a sorry state.”

  Maja gasped. “You know?”

  Myrtle scoffed. “Your father isn’t the man you hoped he’d be all these years. I think today he proved it. But at least he left you this.” She waved at the unconscious form on the bed. “Now be a good girl and take care of him. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

  “But … I have nothing to use to help him,” Maja protested.

  “Nonsense, you have everything you need. You’re a smart girl. And a lovely girl.” Myrtle reached into her pocket and pulled out some coins. “Here, perhaps these will help.”

  Maja stared at them before glancing at her patient. He wasn’t coming to. That wasn’t good.

  “Go on, take them,” Myrtle urged.

  Maja opened her hand and the woman dropped them into it. “What are these?”

  Myrtle smiled. “Gold, my dear, and very old. Now run along to town and get what you need. I’ll stay here with him.”

  Maja glanced at the stranger and back. “But …”

  “No buts, now off with you!” Myrtle pointed at the door.

  What choice did she have? Maja turned and ran out of the cabin.

  Chapter 4

  The trip to Creede was much more pleasant riding Bo. She’d brought some of the grain with her, giving Bo a few handfuls before they left and some more for after she arrived. The poor horse got as many stares as she did, but that was of no concern compared to getting what she needed for the man back at the cabin. She didn’t even know his name, where he lived, nothing. But he knew nothing about her either.

  She tied Bo to a hitching post and fed him his snack while staring at the dry goods store she’d been in earlier. Going inside and looking for things she could use to nurse the man meant she’d have to talk. Or should she find the doctor instead? Either way, she’d have to talk – and put her grubby self front and center. They would ask her questions and him questions, it would all come out.

  And who knew what would happen then? Would they catch Pa? If they did, would they hang him? What if the man took a sudden turn for the worse and died? She’d had a sudden vision of Pa swinging from a rope when the thought first occurred to her back at the cabin. Now it was
clearer, more frightening. She felt cold all of a sudden and did her best to not shiver. She went up the steps to the boardwalk and into the dry goods store.

  “… Then I heard that he’s going to send away for a mail-order bride,” the girl that helped her that morning was telling another shopgirl behind the counter. She spotted Maja and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, it’s you.” She forced a smile. “How can I help you?”

  Maja approached the counter slowly. She didn’t want to talk, but what choice did she have?

  “Well?” the girl said impatiently.

  The other one stared at her open-mouthed. “Are you a girl or a boy?”

  “Penny!” the first one said. “Anyone can see that’s a boy. That needs a bath,” she added.

  Maja was about to open her mouth when another customer opened hers. “Lissy, Penelope! I’m shocked at you! Is that any way to treat a customer? What would your father say?”

  Maja froze. The woman had a distinct British accent. Could she be related to Myrtle?

  “He’s not here at the moment,” Lissy said, looking at Maja again, this time with more interest. “I wonder what he looks like under all that dirt?”

  The woman smiled at Maja. She had blonde hair and kind, blue eyes. “Don’t mind Lissy and Penny.” She turned to glare at the two girls, who looked related – sisters? “I’m sure they didn’t mean anything by it.” She returned to smiling at Maja. “I’m Regina Honeycutt. And you are?”

  Maja forced a tiny smile in return. “Maja. Maja Mae Van Dyne.”

  The girls gasped. “You mean that’s a girl?” Lissy said in disappointment. “Figures.”

  Maja blinked. Egads, had she passed herself off as a boy that well?

  Mrs. Honeycutt had had enough. “You two behave yourselves or your father will be hearing about this from me, you can rely on that.” Only once they were silent did the woman turn back and study Maja. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  Maja unconsciously wiped her hand on her coat and shook her head.