style="font-size:15px;"> Santiago nodded slowly. “Blankets and saddle bags for horses, but no horses. They must have run off during the shooting. There were four dead bodies, but only one of them was American,” he answered.
Elizabeth bit her lip. “We must bury the other bodies out of respect, and to avoid suspicion. They were killed on our property, and it will go badly for us if they are found here.” She looked up at her son. “Santiago, can you find this place again? If I send you to take care of this, will you be careful, and do what must be done?”
“Of course, Mama,” he answered, eager to help.
“You must be very careful. These men may not have been alone, and there may be others looking for them. No one can know that you were involved, or that you saw what happened.” Elizabeth looked closely at Santiago, concerned. They didn’t have many problems in this area, but she had heard of a group of banditos(italics) making trouble recently, and knew that all of Mexico was an open hiding place for lawless men. If her son – or her ranch – was seen to be part of a killing of such men, and the rest of their gang heard about it … Santiago reached out and grasped her arm, nodding, and she nodded in return. “You will leave in the morning with the wagon. I will send several of the men with you to help. Bring back the dead American, any of the Americans’ baggage, but bury the rest of it. We do not want to be accused of theft.”
Pilar grabbed her hand as she turned away, and pulled her back around to face them. “Mama, should I go as well?”
Elizabeth shook her head gently. “No, Pilar, this is a job for the men. I will need you here with me, in case this American wakes up and needs more help.”
“Why do you want his things, Mama? Why not bury them with the others?”
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “We do not know who this man is, my love. Perhaps his things will help us identify him, and tell us whether he is an enemy, or a friend.”
***
Elizabeth walked back to the room where the American slept and looked down at the injured man, his right arm immobilized in a sling. His wounds had stopped bleeding, and some color had returned to his cheeks, but he was not yet safe. The wounds could become infected, or refuse to heal. If they did, the infection could move to his blood, and from there to his entire body. If he awoke, he may not thank her for saving his life, given the pain he would feel. She did not think that he would wake soon, but if he did, she wanted to be nearby.
She moved to his side, gathering the things he had brought with him. His gun holster was empty, though she assumed he had been holding his gun when he was shot; the weapon must still be in the clearing in the forest. She made a mental note to ask Santiago to look for it, and glanced at the rest of the gear. The belt attached to the holster still held several long knives for throwing and cutting. She moved this belt carefully away from the man, thinking that they would all be safer if the weapons were out of reach when he woke up. She pulled his shirt away from his body again, and slowly eased it out from under his weight, putting it to the side. She stripped the vest away from the shirt and looked at her hands in disgust. The man’s clothes were filthy, and smelt vaguely of raw alcohol. She glanced quickly down at the clothing, then paused and looked more closely. Deep brown buckskin pants and a matching vest. The shirt was fine white linen, underneath the layers of blood and grime, and the boots were well made. The clothing had fine, straight stitching. These were not handmade clothes. They did not come from the man’s wife or even a ranch seamstress, and they certainly hadn’t been made in the quick, rough pattern of a Texan seamstress.
Elizabeth folded the clothes carefully and put them on the bed, then stepped back. This man was wealthy, and that meant that he was also important, and therefore potentially dangerous, she thought. She sighed again, and looked back at the man lying on the bed.
“Who are you, and what are you doing on my property?” she asked quietly.
She moved back to the bed to remove his fine gloves, and noticed a gold wedding band on his left hand. She glanced at the man’s face again. Very few men wore wedding rings in this area, and those who did were either very rich or very sentimental. The thought made her pause, and she looked out the window, remembering a time and place that no longer existed. Her own husband had worn a wedding ring, once, though she hadn’t seen it since he had been killed by the thieves in the field. A smile touched her lips as she remembered. He had bought the ring himself, but that had never tempered his pleasure in the gift. He’d taken pride in the band, and had shown it to everyone he met when they first married. He’d told everyone that it was his own symbol of love, and that wearing the ring meant that he carried his wife with him.
The man on the bed coughed, bringing Elizabeth back to the present, and she firmed her mouth. It wasn’t good for her to stand around wishing to rewrite the past, and it certainly didn’t help those around her. She placed the belt with the knives out of her American friend’s reach, then moved to the chair by the window to work on her sewing until he awoke.
***
Elizabeth stayed with the man through the night and into the next day. She did not want him to wake up alone or in pain, and she wanted to keep him from moving as much as possible. She sewed and knitted as she waited, taking care of the last month’s mending and diving into the need for warmer winter clothing. This was a warm, mild area of the country, and didn’t present harsh winter weather. The colder season always required heavier blankets for the children, though, along with thicker socks and sweaters. She hummed to herself while she sewed, remembering the songs that her mother sang to her when she was young. Her mother had sung special songs when her children were sick, and always swore that they helped the sickness leave the body. Elizabeth had never believed that herself, but had found comfort in her mother’s voice. She’d also realized the value of that comfort, in itself, and had started singing to her own children when they were born. Now she hoped that the sound of her voice would bring the American back to the land of the living, and possibly give him some comfort while he slept.
Within a few hours of sunrise, the man began to develop a fever. His skin became flushed and hot to the touch, and his sleep dissolved into fitful episodes of tossing and turning. Elizabeth shouted for help and water, and began to strip the man of his remaining clothing. When help arrived, she soaked rags in the cold water and piled them around the man, seeking to bring the fever down. After a couple of hours of replacing the rags and praying, Elizabeth felt the man’s face to find that his temperature had returned to normal. She sighed in relief and moved back to her empty chair. Overcome with the fatigue and stress of the work, she fell asleep as soon as she sat down.
Chapter Two
Will awoke cold and confused. He had no idea where he was or how he came to be there, though he felt both exhausted and weak, as though he had traveled a long distance. He turned his head to the side, seeking some clue about his location, and saw light streaming in through a window on the other side of the room. Indoors. He was in a room somewhere. The room was clean but sparsely furnished, with a table and set of chairs near the window. He was in a bed. There was an unknown woman sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, and he could not sit up.
He tried again to move, but stopped when he felt a sharp pain shooting from his left leg up through his right shoulder. He grunted in pain and fell back against the bed. Something was very wrong with his body. Moaning, he tried again. He was in unfamiliar surroundings, without a clue about how he arrived there, and it wasn’t safe for him to stay in this bed. It wasn’t safe for him to be at such a disadvantage. What if these people weren’t his friends? What if danger came through the door? He needed to be up and moving, ready for whatever came his way. He didn’t know how he’d come here, but he could remember that there had been
