“Bruises, gashes, gunshot wound, possibly, to the leg,” Simon says. “Doc, it’s probably too late, she’s hunted.”
Harris grins at him, “No they are the hunted, now.”
Chapter 10
Harris grabs two wool blankets and lays them on top of each other, then begins filling them with the supplies he will need. It is a hard, three-day ride if the weather breaks. He may overtake her if he’s lucky, but she could be anywhere. Where would you go if you were hunted? Chief Nashoba said they were going to the Spring Tribal at Snake River. It is at the base of Cathedral Mountain and offered everything the tribe needed. Water, hunting, fishing but it also the perfect place to lay a trap.
One side of the mountain is crumbled from the previous springs rock slides. It provided perfect shallows and slowed the river down on the west side, but the east side took all the rain shed from the mountain causing significant rapids.
“Gatling guns, how could she survive it,” Harris mumbles as he packs. It would have been pure devastation. He curses under his breath.
“Two, Doc. We had two Gatling guns. One on the east side and one on the west. They were set up in a cross-fire to prevent any chance of escape. He called it an extermination,” Simon coughs up more blood, before collapsing back on the bed.
“Damn!” After the last massacre where over eighty soldiers were slaughtered, the mutilations have gotten much worse. The soldiers retaliate, and the Indians counter. It is horrible to witness. The battles seem to be moving north of the state and into Idaho and Canada. This is one war he will not volunteer for.
Having grown up with the Shoshone tribe and Kimani included, he couldn’t stand back and be a part of the atrocities he’d heard of. General Barclay, in particular, enjoys carving up the enemy. Another cough from the corner has Harris glancing back at his patient but doesn’t move to help him. Time is of the essence if he’s going to get to Kimani. Harris continues packing, food, change of clothes for her two dresses, coats, socks, even a pair of small boots that he prays will fit her feet. They keep a stock of clothes for the patients in case they need it.
A knock sounds on the door and before it opens and Harris groans inside. Not the Widow Donovan again. She smiles at him, lifting a tray of warm food and Harris pushes back a frustrated sigh. He continues rolling up the blanket and secures both sides with leather straps.
“Mrs. Donovan, what can I do for you?” Harris asks.
“Well, Dr. Harris, Steven told me to bring a plate of food over to you.” She quickly moves to the small table away from the patient and sets up the food.
Janie Donovan has had her sights set on being a Doctor’s wife, and she is persistent. Her husband died from smallpox, and she has been living at the fort for the past six months. Harris ignores the tantalizing scents from the food and continues working.
“That’s very kind of you, just leave it, and I’ll get to it soon.” He grabs the heavy blanket and walks it to the door, next to his medical bag. Now that he thinks about it, a good meal will provide fuel for the trip.
“Well, you just handle that like it weighs nothing, Dr. Harris,” she giggles, and it grates on his nerves. His eyes snap to her, and she pales a bit.
“It’s soup, bread and a slice of my Mama’s apple pie. Made fresh this morning,” she stammers.
“Thank you,” Harris sits at the table and quickly begins to eat. When his eyes close in appreciation, she grins in satisfaction.
“Coffee? Mrs. Donovan you surely are a Godsend.”
Dressed in a purple dress and matching coat, Janie is a beauty. His eyes trail over her dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. She meets his gaze and smiles.
“I’m glad you think so, Harris.”
“You will make some man a great wife, but not me. I’m not looking for a wife,” he tells her in no uncertain terms.
Janie flinches as if slapped. “Well, don’t be so quick,” but he interrupts her with a hand.
“Ranch life is hard, and the life of a doctor is not for everyone.” He glances at her pale complexion, perfectly manicured nails, pressed dress and curled hair. He can’t help but smile.
“I lost my wife, Janie, and I’m not looking to replace her anytime soon. I’m not trying to be harsh, but you deserve the truth.” He sips his coffee and glances at Simon, who has finally succumbed to sleep.
“Three years is a long time to be alone.” Janie walks towards him, and he hisses in frustration.
“Who said I was alone?” He continues packing, and Janie blushes in embarrassment, she rises to leave.
“Thank you, Harris. I’m sorry about your loss, I know what that’s like, but you should keep in mind that she wouldn’t want you to be alone the rest of your life.”
“Maybe,” Harris closes his eyes against the image of her lifeless body. Blonde hair, lush curves, and lavender scent. The sickness ate at her slowly draining her of her life. She made him promise to find love again, but he would not find it with Janie.
Janie’s eyes fill with irritation as she turns to leave.
“Help her!” Simon thrashes, drawing her attention.
“Easy, Simon. I’m going soon.” He rushes over to his patient and pushes him back down gently, pulling the covers back over him.
“Green eyes, white?” Confusion has Simon grabbing
