View source for Beneath Red Tail Wings Bloodshed

Bloodshed

Matt lay in his blankets listening to the water still leaking from the ceiling. The rain seemed to have stopped for now anyway. He was cold. Tossing the blankets aside, he lurched to his feet and stretched. It took a few minutes to ease cramped muscles which had stiffened attempting to protect him from each explosion of cannon. His sweat and the dampness made his clothes adhere to his skin. With a grimace, Matt made his way to the door and stepped outside. The sun was blazing as if the rain never happened, so he dug out his glasses and hooked them over his ears. Squinting against the glare from sun lite puddles, he went into the trees.

After taking a moment to wash up at the rivulet, he leaned against the stone breathing deeply. He was damned tired. They couldn’t stay here and expect the old man to survive the deprivations. But to get him off this mountain seemed impossible. Harlan would be useless on the trail considering he couldn’t read sign or handle a horse very well. Matt didn’t know what to do about this. If there were bad men out there, they had to be long gone by now. Better to chance leaving than to do without supplies. Old Gil could have had an accident or met with foul play. They didn’t know and seriously couldn’t wait. Frustrated he wrestled with the pros and cons.

Sarah checked her father over for the hundredth time. Maybe they could build a travois to get him off the mountain. But further exposure to the weather would probably worsen his condition. She would ask Matt about it. Uncle Gil should have been back, but then the weather would have caused the men to take shelter if at all possible. Maybe they would get there today. Originally Uncle Gil planned for them to ride back to the base camp if they hadn’t found sign of father. She thought their worries were almost over, if only he would ride in right now. Sighing, Sarah tucked her father in and stirred up the fire. After adding more wood, she stepped out to attend to her private needs.

The scent of wet pine invigorated her, despite the chilled air. She skipped over puddles and shivered when icy water slipped past the collar of her jacket. Water splashed off the rim of her sombrero. Unconsciously Sarah’s spirit was lifted. She used her bandana to freshen up, dipping it a deep puddle of icy water. It was a momentary energy, however. Kevin’s actions still irked her. When they got home, he would need to return to Boston. He was not functioning well in this crisis and she honestly couldn’t see pursuing a relationship when he wasn’t solid enough for this life.

Despite his talk of the city, Sarah could not see living the restricted life there. She hated every moment of her time spent at school. The first thing she had done when she returned home was saddle up her most rambunctious pony and ride as if the devil was after her, all over the range. She was stinking of sweat and half asleep from exhaustion when she got back. To her mother’s consternation, she entered the house swearing loudly to never leave Colorado again, ever. She easily recalled her father’s happy laughter when he wrapped her in one of his rib cracking bear hugs. Poor mother, she still didn’t understand her wayward child.

The sun was warming her up as Sarah trekked back to the cabin. Her pleasant mood faded when she saw Kevin preparing to ride away from the cabin.

“Kevin! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

The pony spun on his heels, Kevin hauling on the reins. Something fell from the saddle into the mud. Furious, Sarah ran forward to give the idiot a piece of her mind. She was brought to a halt by the appearance of Kevin’s sidearm aimed in her direction.

“Stop right there Sarah honey.”

Kevin was holding a gun on her. She watched as he stepped down, watching her closely and groped around until he pulled her father’s moneybelt from the mud. Spurred by outrage Sarah once more charged forward.

“How dare you! Have you lost your mind? You won’t get away with this.”

“Stop! Don’t take another step. You wouldn’t want me to shoot you now, would you?”

Kevin was standing tall, arm straight and gun steady in his hand.

“I was going to fight for you, honey. If those two tramps had done their job, I would have married you. You would have never known. But then I noticed some things. How eager you were to defend that saddle bum. How you didn’t want my kisses anymore, always chasing after him. Did you lift that silly looking skirt for him this morning? Did you! It makes me mad. You want a broken down blind man over me! Oh yes, that’s right, you don’t know the tramp is going blind. Ha, ha look at Miss Bethencourt’s face!”

Sarah was trembling with shock. What tramps? What was he talking about? This couldn’t be happening. She forced herself to swallow, mouth dry and tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth.

“Tell, tell me you didn’t hurt father? Is, father...”

“Shut up, damn it. The old man didn’t even wake up. He’s dying anyway. Come to think of it those ranch hands are sure to be upset to find you dead out here with your old man. They might just hang that raggedy begger you’re mooning over. Yeah, I like that idea.”

“Kevin don’t, don’t do this.”

“Kevin, don’t do this,” he simpered before pulling the trigger.

Sarah screamed, but it was Kevin’s body folding over and falling to the ground. The shot seemed to repeat itself for an eternity to the woman’s stunned senses. He said “I love you.” He tried to kill her. Kevin’s feet pounded the mud and one arm waved in the air scrabbling for purchase on nothing. Finally all movement ceased. Sarah continued to watch the body as if it was a rattler poised to strike. She didn’t react when Matt moved passed her to kick Kevin’s gun aside.

“See to your father girl. Now!”

Sarah shook all over and ran into the cabin. She hurried to lift her father back onto the cot. His upper body was almost over the side. She was further shocked when he groaned and murmured her name. The bandages around his shoulder were displaced, faintly stained with new blood. She rushed to clean the wound and cover it over with a clean bandana from her bag. After making him comfortable, she held his hands tightly, so grateful they were both still alive.

Eventually Sarah spooned the remnants of the broth into his mouth. Her joy when he finished the cup and smiled, battled with her other reactions to events. There were episodes of panic when her breath would be lost, heart beating wildly. Then she would be fine again, if you discounted trembling hands and intermittent tears.