Page 40 of Sure as Shooting

Whit held up a palm to Bud. “Hold on, Bud! These Indians are under my care.”

“Get out of the way, Doctor. Those Indians have got to die.”

Behind Bud stood his roommate Jim Fell, oddly enough with a battalion boy slung over his shoulders. Bud motioned for Jim to place the man on the ground, and Whit came forward to see it was Bill Little, who Whit had doctored back to health after getting an arrowhead stuck in his lung. Now poor Bill was once again bashed and bloodied. His face was swollen and discolored, and his pants torn clean away above the knees to reveal deep gashes spouting blood so rapidly, already a pool had gathered beneath his lower extremities. Whit instantly gathered they had followed one of the acorn basket trails.

Bud kept his rifle leveled at Whit’s head. “Stand aside, if you value your own safety.”

Whit wanted to examine the wounded man, but he had to deal with Bud first. “Hold on, boys! Major Ashbury sent me to guard these Indians, and I shall obey orders.”

Bud bellowed, “They have almost killed Little, and now these imps of Satan have got to die! Give way, Whitney. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If you shoot, you commit murder.”

“Dr. Whitney!” It was the patient Bill Little, lying in a heap of blood, calling for Whit.

But Whit didn’t want to go to him, for that would leave the Indians unguarded and an easy target for the callous Bud. Little raised himself to a sitting position, regarded the situation, and called out, “Whitney is right, boys. Don’t shoot. Mine is but the fortune of war.”

“What happened?” Whit shouted. Little collapsed again, perhaps in a dead faint. Whit moved closer, and Bud and Jim Fell reluctantly lowered their rifles so he could examine Little.

Bud snarled, “Come in with your friends, Doctor, and thank Little for their safety.”

Fell added, “You’re an asshole’s sight too high-toned for people who’ve always stood by you, Doctor.”

As Whit examined Little, Bud told the story. “We saw the acorn baskets on the trail and decided to follow them to the devil’s hiding place. The trail narrowed so much that we threw off our boots and climbed up the slippery granite. Suddenly and not so mysteriously, a thunder of rocks came down toward us. We would’ve vamoosed the ranch if it wasn’t for this overhang above us that deflected most of the rocks. But one piece struck Little’s rifle from his hand and tossed him fifty feet down that steep wall. Boulders rained all over him, as you can see!

“An Injun peeked over the cliff, so I dropped him in his tracks, and instantly a great howling rose up, rocks alive with demons!”

Fell added, “We was just trying to get a look at that split mountain—that half dome. Instead we got caught in a deadfall!”

Bud growled. “We’ll pay them back for this. You’re much too conscientious, Doc.”

They carried Little back to camp, keeping the Indian captives before them. Bud was of no use in carrying his wounded comrade, as he kept his rifle pointed at the Grizzlies.

Back in camp, Huntley listened to the story and told Whit, “These hostages will have to stay in camp. They won’t be safe outside, if some of the boys get their eyes on them.”

Apparently the captives knew of Tenaya’s intentions to roll rocks down on any who might follow the trail. Now the captives trembled in fear for their lives, and rightly so.

* * * *

Belle instantly went in search of Whit when she heard what had happened.

She had been in turmoil since the incident with the buckaroo saddle. Going over and over it in her mind, she concluded that Whit definitely had said, “I love you, Miss Belle.” She had simply been so muddled from the intensity of their masculine assault she could not think or even hear straight.

She was in love with Whit—her feelings for him bypassed the magnitude of what she’d felt for Ned—and this terrified her. Would it not be so much easier if she remained a mistress to both men, and professed love to no one? Surely here in the West nobody would look askance at such an arrangement, and she could go about her day without concern. Yet she had truly already given her heart to Whit, and she had an inner conflict because she was starting to feel the same way about Huntley. Was such a thing possible? To love two men at once?

Whit was tending to Bill Little in his tent, wrapping poultices around his swollen, bashed feet. He barely glanced at Belle.

She ventured, “I heard that Tenaya is unwilling to come in. He’ll make peace with us only if he’s allowed to remain in his own territory.”

“Yes,” Whit agreed, distractedly. “He says he’ll either stay in these mountains or go back to the Monos by the saline lake.”

There was an uncomfortable silence while Whit finished his task. He stood, shuffling about in his medicine pouch. “Hmm.”

“Is there something you need? I can go gathering items for you, if you need something.”

“Yes,” Whit said to the bag. “I need some balsam of fir.”

“Oh, I know how to get that. I’ll be back within the hour.”