Long Lost Kin
Buck Wilmington sat atop his horse whistling tunelessly. He'd been in the saddle three hours and if he rode straight through, he'd be back in Four Corners by sundown. There was an eerie stillness in the air and a dark cloud hovered in the distance. Not thinking much of it, he continued on.
He'd gone about two miles when rain suddenly came down in torrents, soaking him to the bone. Ahead, lightning bolted across the sky. Knowing he couldn't beat nature, his next course of action was to seek shelter and dry off before he caught his death of cold. As luck would have it, he spotted a covered bridge not too far ahead.
As he approached the bridge, he began whistling loudly as a tactic to ward off would-be attackers who may be waiting to gouge unsuspecting travelers. Not hearing any other noises, he continued on.
Once inside the bridge, Buck tethered his horse to a latticed support beam, rubbed the animal down with a blanket. Then, taking his blanket roll and saddlebags, he settled himself against the structure to rest a spell.
After removing his hat, he tossed it beside him and stretched out his long legs. He knew that once the storm passed, he'd be on his way back to town, back with his posse. Staring at the beams he was getting drowsy when suddenly he heard scratching noises.
"What the hell?" He jumped to his feet to investigate. "Anyone here?"
Silence.
Walking from one end to the other until he decided that it was only the wind howling, Buck headed back to his spot to get some rest. A moment later he heard more scratching noises, only this time, it was louder. Without turning his head, his eyes scanned the dim interior. When he felt something touch his shoulder, he reached for his gun in his holster, spun around and, to his shock, saw a woman swathed in a blanket.
"Yer trespassin' on my bridge," she said evenly.
Buck's gun was still aimed in her direction. "Sneakin'up like that an' you could've gotten yerself killed," he bit out.
"My bridge!"
Slowly, Buck looked the woman over. Dark hair was matted against her head and on her left cheek and forehead were deep slashes. "Who did this to you?" he asked softly.
"My bridge!" Moving the blanket aside, the woman held up a knife to punctuate her words.
"Whoa there! I ain't here to hurt ya. Why don't ya just hand me the knife and let me take a look at those wounds of yours."
"You'll do no such thing, Charlie."
"Ma'am." He lifted a brow. "I ain't Charlie."
"I told ya to git the wood an' start buildin' us a fire." The woman took a step closer. "Now go on, git. If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times that storms are no place to be out dallyin' around in, Charlie. We need ta start thinkin' 'bout Winter an' gettin' stocked up with the walnuts." She cocked her head to the side. "You like walnuts, Charlie, just like yer pa."
The woman wasn't making any sense. Had something happened to her family and she'd been here all alone so long that she was hallucinating? Or had someone attacked her?
"How'd you get those cuts on your face?" He asked, his eyes still on the knife in her right hand.
The woman began rocking back and forth on her bare heels while humming under her breath. Then without warning, she lounged at him with the knife, missing him by a mere inch. Buck pounced, pinning her down on the ground.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" Buck grated, shoving her knife into his boot. "I ain't gonna hurt you." He struggled with the woman for a good minute or two to get her to stop kicking and clawing at him with her nails across his face.
"Beast!" the woman bellowed.
Shifting in the nick of time from a foot to the head, Buck's patience was now gone. "That's it! You're just plumb loco and I ain't gonna fight ya no more. You can just stay stay here and rot in this bridge. Doesn't matter none to me."
Buck turned her loose. He grabbed his hat, slapped it on his head. Then stalked toward his horse and swung into the saddle. He gave one final look over his shoulder and, he couldn't believe his eyes; the woman was running toward him, rambling something he couldn't quite make out while flapping her arms fiercely. Suddenly, she halted, buried her face in her hands and began crying.
"Aw, hell," Buck said under his breath.
"They come back."
"The people who hurt you?"
She nodded, scrubbing her eyes with her fists.
Before he knew what he was doing, Buck found himself sliding off his horse. "Come with me, ma'am." Cautiously, he reached for her hand. "You need to have those wounds looked at."
She stared at him for a long moment, then took his hand in her own. "They find me."
Buck winked. "I wouldn't count on it." He helped her up on the horse and swung back into the saddle. "I got ya, " he said as they left the bridge.
It was a long, miserable ride. The woman kept squirming as Buck kept one hand on her to steady her from slipping off the horse. Every so often, she would start humming some ungodly tune, or sing at the top of her lungs. The woman couldn't carry a note if her life depended on it.
They arrived in Four Corners just after twilight. J.D Dunne, who was coming out of the saloon, jogged over to greet Buck.
"Who ya got there, Buck?"
"Where's Nathan?"
"In the saloon."
"Go git him for me, will ya?" One look at J.D.'s face and Buck knew what his own must look like.
As J.D. ran back into the saloon, Buck reined in his horse. Then he took the woman in his arms and headed toward the healer's living quarters. He'd just laid her on the bed when Nathan entered the small room, J.D. on his heels.
"What happened to her?" Nathan inquired as he hurried to light a lantern, the better see his patient.
"From what I gather, there was more than one person who did this to her," Buck reported. "She's not in her right mind hallucinating."
Nathan got busy pouring water onto a cloth, then gently dabbing at her forehead, working his way to her cheek. "Looks like she's gonna need some stitching together."
The woman was squirming. "No. No."
"We ain't gonna hurt ya," Buck soothed.
"J.D., boil some water, I'll need to sedate her." Nathan looked up at Buck. "You look like you got into a fight with a cougar and lost."
Buck removed his hat, raked a hand through his hair and set the hat low again. "I'll live," he drawled.
After mixing a powder with water, Nathan sedated the woman and worked at stitching her slashes while J.D. brought in three cups of coffee.
"She's mighty lucky she didn't loose an eye," Nathan commented, clipping the string. Setting the long needle to the tray on the nightstand, he said, "She's gonna need at least a week of rest. Where'd ya find her, Buck?"
"In a bridge. Long story."
"I've got all night."
* * *
As the days passed the woman was healing quite nicely. Buck brought her food each day and tried to get more information from her as to what had happened to her, but she didn't want to corporate; each time she'd roll to the side, mumbling something about someone named Charlie. Buck was almost certain that Charlie was her son, or someone close to her at one time.
Now that she was recovering, there was other matter at hand: Who was she and were there relatives to notify? Buck sent a telegram to the sheriff in the next county over where he'd found her, hoping someone could shed some light.
On the sixth day, Inez and Mary insisted on bringing the woman a fresh change of clothing and doing something about her unsightly hair. Even after washing it, the mats remained a tangled mess and Inez resolved the only way to get some order was to cut her hair chin level.
After a little handiwork with the scissors, Mary and Inez helped the woman into the blue dress they'd brought, but even with clean clothing it did almost nothing to improve her homely looks, however, her spirits suddenly seemed to lift.
Mary held up a small mirror for the woman. One look at her reflection and her mouth gaped like a fish out of water. "Me?"
Inez gently squeezed her palm. "Sure is, Miss...?"
"Martha. Call me Martha." She spun around a couple times. "Could you fetch my son for me?"
"Your son?" Mary and Inez asked in unison.
"I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since this mornin'."
Mary and Inez exchanged glances. "Your son was here this morning?" Mary inquired, pushing a strand of blonde hair over a shoulder.
"He sure was. He brought me toast and eggs."
"The only person, besides Nathan, who was here this morning was Buck," Inez prompted.
"No, it was my son who was here," Maratha insisted. "Charlie comes every day.'
Mary put an arm around Martha's shoulder. Nathan had made mention she wasn't thinking clearly still and she may never, due to circumstances they did not know just yet. "Did something happen to your family?"
Martha remained silent for what seemed an eternity. "Y-yes."
"Can you remember?" Inez asked.
Martha choked back tears. "It was hot an' we went for a swim in the river." She paused to swipe at tears now coursing down her cheeks. "He jumped in after a long while, he didn't come up I searched an' searched."
Mary released a breath between her teeth. "I'm so sorry, Martha. It must have been so tragic for you."
* * *
Later that afternoon, Buck brought Martha her lunch. She was sitting at the wooden table, watching every move he made. "Come sit with me, son."
Buck just smiled, as Mary and Inez had already given him the particulars. "Reckon I can do that."
"After lunch, what say you show me 'round this town you've brought us to."
Buck rubbed his jaw. "Well, Martha--"
"When did ya start callin' me by my first name, son?"
"Now hold up! Let's get one thing straight," Buck protested, slumping down in a nearby chair. "As much as I'm touched, I'm afraid I ain't your son. I know you're hurting, but I can't be a replacement."
Martha picked up a piece of fried chicken from the tin plate, took a bite. "Charlie, I'd like to get out of this room I've been cooped up in."
"Fine," Buck agreed. "As long as you call me Buck."
Martha paid him no attention as she wolfed down her food, guzzled back her tea. When finished, she got up, put on a pair of boots Mary had brought for her and headed toward the door. Over her shoulder she said, "Come along, son."
Groaning, he rose to his feet. "It's Buck!"
Out on the dusty street, Martha stopped every person walking past them and would say, "Have you met my son?" Buck received odd looks from every one. When they reached the saloon, Martha insisted he introduce her to his friends. "Won't that be fun?" She smiled.
Under his breath Buck groaned, "A barrel of laughs."
Upon hurrying through the bat-wing doors, Martha spotted Inez and dashed toward her. "My son and I would like two cups of coffee please."
From behind, Buck mouthed, "I'll take mine with whiskey. No coffee."
"Why, I think it's nice you showing Miss Martha about town," Inez said with a smile, reaching for two cups.
"It surely is nice," Martha agreed. "Come mornin', we're headin' back home." She turned around and, in a motherly fashion, readjusted Buck's handkerchief.
Buck shook his head adamantly. "Martha, I hate to break the news to you, but I ain't goin' nowhere."
To the left, J.D. was playing poker with Ezra Standish, Vin Tanner and Chris Larabee. Buck paid them no attention as he grabbed his cup and chugged back his whiskey.
"Hey, Buck, why don't you and your mother come join us and sit down a spell?" J.D. chuckled.
Buck shot him a glare. "J.D.!"
"Why, Mr. Wilmington, you are full of surprises," said Ezra with a wry grin. "Not letting on that your dear mother has come for a visit."
Martha started toward the table where the four men congregated, but Buck stood in her way. "We should be going," he said.
"Not until you've introduced me to yer friends, son." She sidestepped him, then settled into an empty chair beside J.D., where she proceeded to look each man over. "You mean he's never mentioned me?" She sent Buck a hurtful look.
"Not a peep," J.D. replied.
Buck slumped down in an empty chair, listening while Martha went on and on about some story that had occurred years ago. Every so often, she would grace him with a bucktoothed grin and tell him to sit up straight and quit slouching.
"Well, sounds like Charles was quite the fiddle player back in his day," Chris ribbed, looking to Buck. "He's been keepin' his talent a secret."
Martha nodded. "Charles, we better git a move on if yer gonna show me the rest of the town." Rising to her feet, she said in parting, "It's been a pleasure."
"Now Charlie, don't ya be keepin' yer mother all to yerself." Vin winked.
Buck just shook his head as he headed toward the door.
A week later, Buck was on his way to the bathhouse when Chris caught up with him. "Hey, Buck, Telegram just arrived for ya." He handed over a piece of paper.
Buck read the contents. "It's from the sheriff. Martha has a daughter who's been lookin' for her for two months." He paused. "Aw, hell"
"What is it?"
"The sheriff requests I accompany Martha back home."
Chris grinned. "Good luck."
The next morning, Chris sat in a wooden chair along the boardwalk as Buck and Martha waited for the stagecoach. She was all gussied up wearing a red and white traveling dress Mary had given her. In her right hand she held a basket, which Inez had so carefully packed with sandwiches for their journey.
Martha turned to Buck. "I sure did enjoy this time with ya, son. " With that, she began singing softly.
Soon, the stage came into view, bumping it's way down the dusty road until coming to a rickety halt. Buck helped Martha board, then, turning to Chris he grinned. "As much as I'm relieved to get rid of that woman, I reckon I'm gonna sorta miss her."
*^* The End *^*
Copyright © 2004 - 2007
This story is intended strictly for entertainment only.
