“He’s got other wounds, too, but his hands are the worst,” Doug said.
“Well, we’ll just see about that.”
Mather systematically examined Nick from top to bottom. The only sounds he made were the occasional grunts and mutters to himself. His hands worked quickly and without much concern for Nick’s comfort. It reminded him of stories he’d heard from men who’d fought in the War Between the States. They’d told Nick that the doctors in those field hospitals were sometimes worse than the assholes who’d put the bullet in you.
As much pain as Nick felt, he made less noise than Mather. He moved when he was pushed or pulled in one direction or another and he gritted his teeth through the rest. When he saw the needles come out to stitch him up, Nick picked a spot on the wall and stared at it.
“This is going to hurt,” Mather said. “You want a drink or something to bite down on?”
Nick glanced at the old medic and then shifted his eyes back to the spot he’d picked on the wall. He shook his head and swallowed hard, knowing that Red would love nothing more than to see him squirm right about now. That was all it took for Nick to steel himself.
It took hours for Mather to do what he needed to do. In that time, Nick didn’t make a sound.
It was early evening when Doug walked out of the bedroom. Sue fixed him with an upset look and asked, “Shouldn’t one of us be in there?”
Doug propped the shotgun in a corner and shook his head warily. “That poor young man’s barely able to sit up straight. If he’s strong enough to take a swing at Bill, I think that’s a good sign.”
“Did he try anything like that?”
“No. He just stared at the wall.”
Doug and Sue did the same thing until the bedroom door swung open again. Mather stepped out, wiping his brow, and then took the spectacles from his nose so he could clean them.
“How is he?” Doug asked.
“I’d say the bigger question is
Ignoring the look he got from his wife, Doug said, “He was bleeding and lying on the ground. What was I supposed to do? Just let him lie there and die?”
“If he was some killer on the run from the Vigilance Committee, then yes. That’d be the smartest thing to do.”
Sue covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God. Is he a killer?”
“I don’t know, but I do know those wounds are mostly from gunshots. Some of the others looked like the bayonet wounds I saw in the war, but they could have come from a knife. Either way, that young man was in a serious fight. The last time someone was tore up that bad and on the run out of Virginia City, it was from that Committee. Has anyone been looking for him?”
“No,” Doug said. Turning to his wife, he asked, “Did anyone ask about him while you were out?”
Sue shook her head. “No.”
“Then maybe he got clear of whoever shot him up,” Mather offered. “Considering the condition he’s in, they probably think the young man’s dead.”
“His name is Nick Graves,” Doug told him.
“I don’t care if his name is Ulysses Grant. If he’s a killer with other killers after him, it’d be wise for you to be rid of him. Especially since you’ve got the girls to worry about.”
“Thanks, Bill, but we can make that decision.”
“Suit yourself. I cleaned and dressed the wounds as best I could. He needs plenty of rest, but he might just make it. Judging by how he took the stitches and everything else, I’d say it’s nothing but bullheadedness that’s kept him alive this long.”
“What about his hands?” Sue asked with a wince.
“You saw ’em for yourself. They’re shot to hell, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about that. Still, they’re not fatal wounds. By the looks of it, whoever shot him up was either trying to rip him apart or was just one hell of a bad shot. Since there was a knife involved, I’d put my money on the former.”
“What’s a knife got to do with it?” Doug asked.
“You have to get up close for it to work,” Mather replied warily. “Takes a bit more resolve.”
Doug nodded as if he was learning a foreign language. “Right. Of course.”
“So,” Mather said as he headed for the front door, “you want me to ask the marshal about your guest in there?”
Doug looked to his wife, but didn’t get much more than an uncertain shrug in return. Taking a deep breath and letting it out decisively, Doug said, “No. We’ll keep an eye on him until he’s feeling a little better.”
“That should give you until tomorrow at least,” Mather said. “He passed out when I was filing down the bone of one of his fingers. Anyone else, I’d say they would be laid up for a while, but that one in there will probably be trying to get up in the morning.”
Although he tried not to squirm at the casual way Mather tossed out those last few sentences, Doug wasn’t able to hide the fact that his face was now white as a sheet. “All right, then. What do I owe you for this?”
“We’ll work something out. Right now, I just want to get some sleep. Talk to you both later.” With that, Mather threw a wave over his shoulder and left.
Both Doug and Sue jumped at the sound of the slamming door.
“What in God’s name do we do now?” Sue asked in a frightened whisper. “That man may be a gun-fighter or an outlaw.”
“He doesn’t have a gun on him,” Doug said as if to comfort himself along with his wife. “And he’s in no shape to harm anyone, even if he…” Suddenly realizing he couldn’t comfort anyone by going along that line of thought, Doug stopped himself. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to think of anything better to say before one of his little girls came running into the room.
The girl wore a cute little blue dress, but was small enough that a potato sack could have covered her just as well. “Does the scary man want my blanket?” she asked.
“No, princess,” Doug said. “He’s sleeping just fine.”
Without another word, she nodded and ran off.
“You’ll keep an eye on him,” Sue said to her husband. “And you’ll have that gun close by when you do it. I’ll fix a plate for him in case he gets hungry during the night.”
And, just like that, the decision was made.
TWENTY
Every time Nick opened his eyes, he didn’t bother checking if it was night or day. Sometimes there was light streaming through his window and sometimes there wasn’t. The biggest problem was that he couldn’t get himself to care about where the sun happened to be. Most of the time, he wondered if he would be better off if he simply didn’t wake up at all.
Nick had never been given to self-pity, and he sure as hell hadn’t picked up anything like that from his father. In fact, Stasys’s voice passed through Nick’s mind more often than any other. He felt as though his father was constantly scolding him for the mess his life had become.
The smell of freshly baked bread drifted through the house, causing Nick to stir. No matter what else had happened or what was going through his mind, Nick was always glad to see the Hemphill family. Doug was quick with a joke and kept them coming even though Nick wasn’t in the mood to laugh. Sue always made him feel better, even by doing something as simple as dabbing his face with a wet cloth or rubbing his arm before she left. The children were heard more than seen, but their laughter would drown out the other echoes that drifted through Nick’s mind.
He never realized just how much attention he’d been paying to the sounds inside that house until a new one entered the mix. First, there was the creaking of the front door. Then, there was a rough voice from outside, which grew louder the longer it talked.
“I don’t think the question was too hard, Hemphill. All I asked was—”
