Kora felt her flesh turn to stone. She’d known from the first that nothing good lasted. How long did she think she could stay in this daydream that she could live happily as Winter’s wife? People like her and Jamie and Dan were never meant to be happy. They were never supposed to stay in one place.
‘‘Take him inside!’’ she ordered. ‘‘All the way to our bedroom.’’
The men did as she asked, marching in a funeral procession up the stairs.
Kora hardly noticed the mud they tracked across her floor or the dirt that scarred the walls as the men scraped against them. All she saw was Winter’s lips, white and swollen, and his body limp and twisted awkwardly by several pairs of hands.
The strangers who brought him in were the only ones talking.
‘‘He’s been bit several times.’’
‘‘I counted six on his arms and legs.’’
‘‘Ain’t never known anyone to live with more than three or four.’’
‘‘Your boss will never see another sunrise.’’
Kora wanted to grab Win’s Colt and shoot all three of them. But they were only the bearers of bad news and not the villains. ‘‘Thank you for bringing him home,’’ she managed to say. ‘‘Please come in and rest while I see to my husband.’’
The three men smiled and began thanking her, but Kora was no longer listening. She followed the men upstairs never stopping the string of orders to first Logan, then Jamie, then several of the hands. She couldn’t explain why, but danger still seemed heavy in the air. Maybe she was just seeing Dan’s ghosts, but something seemed wrong. When she had time she’d reason each clue out, but for now she’d protect them.
Cheyenne unstrapped Win’s gunbelt and laid it on the floor. ‘‘I’ll help you get him out of these clothes first, then we can take a look at the bites. With water moccasins there’s no use sending for the doc. He’ll either be better or dead before the doc could get here.’’
Kora lifted the wet gunbelt from the floor and strapped it around her waist not caring that the mud stained her dress. The weapon hung low over her full skirt. She pulled the Colt from its nest. ‘‘Will it fire?’’
Logan stopped helping Cheyenne long enough to answer. ‘‘No, ma’am.’’
‘‘Then clean it when you have time and load it for me. I’ll wear it until he’s up and able to do so again.’’ She left no room for discussion as she laid down the useless gun and began ripping away Win’s shirt, it was one of his new shirts.
Just as they spread a clean quilt over him, Jamie entered the room with a tray loaded down with supplies Kora had asked for.
‘‘How is he?’’ she whispered.
Both men were silent. They’d counted six deep bites and maybe a dozen scratches that might not have released much poison.
‘‘He’s going to make it,’’ Kora said without blinking. ‘‘But until he’s up and on his feet, we’ve got to be on guard. Something’s not right.’’ She mixed the water with a handful of baking soda. ‘‘I don’t care what those men downstairs said, Win would not fall into a nest of snakes.’’
Cheyenne’s head snapped up as if someone had hit him hard in the jaw. ‘‘She’s right,’’ he whispered. ‘‘Win’s no fool. He’s known about water moccasins since he could walk. His mother’s tribe believes in living with them, not killing them.’’
A silence fell between the four people standing around the bed. Words were not needed. Win hadn’t suffered an accident; someone had tried to kill him and might very well have succeeded. And the most likely villains were downstairs in the kitchen right now.
‘‘I’ll kill whoever did this,’’ Jamie mumbled. ‘‘It must have been a gang because no man could take my brother- in-law down alone.’’
Kora pulled the quilt to his waist and began washing the bites with a rag soaked in baking soda. ‘‘Force a drink of whiskey down his throat,’’ she ordered as she worked. ‘‘ Jamie, you may be right. Go downstairs and give the strangers all the leftovers we have in the cool box.’’ Before Jamie could question she added, ‘‘And don’t miss a word they say.’’
‘‘I’ll only make a quick stop at my room. I only have two knives on me and I may need three.’’ Jamie disappeared to do as ordered.
Kora slid down the quilt and began soaking the red dots on Win’s legs. The thought crossed her mind that for a girl who hated Win, Jamie was sure fighting mad at him being hurt.
‘‘That won’t help.’’ Logan’s voice was thick with sadness. ‘‘Nothing will, that I know of.’’
‘‘We’ve got to try and pull the poison out,’’ Kora answered in almost a cry. ‘‘Give me your knife, Cheyenne. Logan, open the windows.’’
Cheyenne did as she asked without question.
‘‘If he’s cold, maybe the poison will move slower.’’ Kora told them. ‘‘Cheyenne, keep one eye on the stairs. No one but the four of us is getting any closer to Win tonight. Logan, spread the word that if anyone comes up here, he’ll be shot on sight.’’
‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’ Logan moved to the stairs, but before he went down, he added, ‘‘The boss would be real proud of you. If he makes it through this, I plan on telling him what a lucky man he is.’’
Kora nodded her thank-you and went back to work. With tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks, she cut each bite from fang mark to fang mark, making the swollen flesh bleed.
Cheyenne forced more whiskey down Win, then held his head as convulsions shook Win’s body and he began to throw up. He vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach, then Cheyenne poured more whiskey down him.
Kora forced each bite mark to continue bleeding, spilling a great deal of Winter’s blood along with a tiny bit of the yellow venom.
When Win finally stopped shaking and throwing up, Cheyenne made him take another swallow of whiskey, then covered him. ‘‘Let him rest. We’ve done all we can for now.’’
Kora gently wrapped each of his wounds, thankful that none of the bites had been on his face or neck.
‘‘He might just make it,’’ Cheyenne said as he moved to where he had a clear view of the staircase. ‘‘All the bites were on his arms and legs, and none looked to be as deep as I’ve seen some. The bigger the man, the more poison he can take in his blood without dying. Win’s got a good chance, Kora.’’
For the first time Kora noticed Cheyenne’s limp, much more pronounced than it had been earlier. ‘‘You’re hurt?’’ she whispered. ‘‘The ride out to him must have been painful.’’
‘‘I can live with it,’’ Cheyenne answered.
The hours passed. The night grew colder. But Win didn’t move. She tried every poultice she’d ever heard of, even having Jamie heat coal and spread it over the wounds. Nothing seemed to work. Win’s breathing was so light she had to listen for his heartbeat to tell if he was still alive.
‘‘Don’t die on me,’’ she whispered once in anger. ‘‘Don’t die on me just when I started believing in us.’’
Cheyenne brought in a root he said his people used for the bites. When they rubbed it on the wounds, it did seem to help the redness some. They brewed a tea from it and made Win drink, but he didn’t keep much of it down.
While Logan went down to talk to the men, Jamie took up guard by the stairs. She badgered Cheyenne until he sat down, resting his injury for a while. ‘‘You’ll reopen the wound and end up sitting around here another month,’’ she complained.
‘‘I’m fine,’’ Cheyenne insisted, but he took the offered chair.
Finally, when Kora had done everything she could think of to do, she curled next to Win’s still body and lay her arm over his chest. His breathing was now deep and regular, giving her hope.
They’d sent for the doctor, but the rider had only left a note on his door. The doctor was out somewhere on call. Anything they did, they’d have to do alone.
TWENTY-THREE
