Icy rain popped and sizzled against the dying fire. Deputy Russell yelled, “Let’s take care of these men and look around as quickly as possible! With dark coming on and the rain freezing, we’ll all be grave stuffing if we don’t get back to town.”
Adam watched Russell closely. He seemed mismatched for his job. Though he wore a gun strapped to his leg, he didn’t seem the type who would fight for anything except his own life. Maybe. Harry said he’d won the job during the war when every able man was fighting. The sheriff hadn’t had any others apply for the job so Russell stayed on, mostly as a caretaker to the office. His red eyes and the shake in his hands told Adam that the deputy had a drinking problem. In this country drinking wasn’t all that unusual, for most men forty or older had a lot they needed to forget.
While four men stood guard, others dug graves and the deputy made a great show of investigating the area. From the tracks that had already been muddied in the rain, he determined that there was no woman passenger. He saw no signs, no woman’s clothing among the cargo, no blood, no body. If there had been a woman, the tracks of the horses ended abruptly half a mile downstream, so there was no way to follow her or the raiders.
Adam didn’t accept the deputy’s quick answers. He made his own circuit of the scene. Nothing. He examined the bodies as best he could before they were buried. Both men’s throats had been cut deep, but their bodies were curled up in final sleep, making it hard to see any bullet holes. These two men had been alive and active only hours before, but now their arms and hands were withered and black, as though they’d finished a lifetime of aging in death’s final moments.
He turned away to join Russell. “Find anything?”
“No,” the deputy answered, then yelled, “Mount up!” before Adam could ask more.
The ride back was almost silent. Adam guessed, like himself, the others had seen far more death and killing than they’d have liked and none had enough drink in him to talk about the adventure of today.
When he reached home, it was full dark, but the nun had left a supper for him. Adam tried to eat, but couldn’t. He had no way of contacting Wolf. He wasn’t sure the “shipment” was on the stage today. There could have been delays anywhere along the line. But one thing he knew, if the “shipment” was Nichole, she would still be alive and he’d find her. She hadn’t survived the war as a Shadow to be killed by robbers.
By dawn, he’d decided to see if he could round up a few men and go out to the scene again. He must have missed something, he told himself. If she, or word from Wolf, wasn’t on the next stage, he’d be searching until he found her.
He’d planned to go over to the stage office without opening his practice, but folks were knocking on the door before he had time to get dressed. It seemed that several of the deputy’s posse finished the night drowning the memory of what they’d seen. Then, when the bartender tried to send them home, they busted up the place and themselves in the process. By dawn their senses, and newfound pains, hit them fully.
Adam added the line of men needing stitches to the usual number of children with colds and old folks with aches. Before he’d had breakfast, the foyer in the middle of the house was lined with people.
The sun was low, almost touching the silver stovepipe chimneys by the time he saw his last patient. He’d sent Nance Edward over to see if anything came in on the stage. The boy reported that they were holding up the line in Dallas for another day so that a few of the troops from Fort Griffin could ride along. He also said Harry told him to let the doctor know that there was no word on the woman and man who were passengers.
Adam tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. He could find no clues in the dark so he’d have to wait another day to return to the burned stage. Another day would cost him dearly in his chances of finding anything.
After listening to a few of his patients, he wasn’t sure he could find anyone to go with him. These folks weren’t overly friendly, barely said howdy on the street, but when danger came, they were like ants on a rainy day. No one wanted to leave their home.
Giving up reading, Adam stepped out on the front porch. He liked this time of night when respectable folks were all home having supper and the not-so-respectable hadn’t started their play. This part of the night belonged to no group. It seemed the twilight between both worlds.
Tonight, the air was cold, the kind of still cold that soaked into your bones before you noticed it. In another month they’d be in full spring, but tonight winter seemed reluctant to leave.
The front of the house faced an empty street. Most of the homes were little more than shacks. Adam had asked around and found that these buildings were built during the time the cavalry called this place home. Most had been constructed in a hurry and were now falling in. The saloon next door had had some repairs but the boardinghouse on the other side of Adam’s office would soon join the crumbling buildings if someone didn’t use a hammer.
Maybe someone would buy it. People were coming to town every day and construction was going on so fast the town was spreading like weeds. There was talk of turning the old parade ground into a town square. Right now the spot was mostly used as a campsite for those passing through. Fort Worth was turning from an abandoned frontier fort to a town before his eyes.
Adam walked to the end of the porch and wished he were somewhere else. But where? He had an itch to pack but nowhere that he wanted to go. He’d left Corydon, realizing there was nothing for him there, but wasn’t sure there was anything for him here either. All he knew for certain was that he was through with fighting, and that he loved doctoring. The past few months had taught him that.
I’m lonely, he thought. God, I’m so alone. He was in the world, but no one shared his world. It seemed an impossible dream to want what Daniel and May had if only for a short while. During the war he’d thought his loneliness would end with peace, but it hadn’t. He traveled halfway across the country and was no closer than before. The hollowness inside him was still present.
He enjoyed the folks around him, even the nun who never hesitated to tell him his business. But somewhere there had to be more.
“Evening.” A man walked in front of the porch, startling Adam.
“Evening, Russell.” Adam took a step forward. He didn’t particularly like the man, but he might have information. “Any word on the stage robbery?”
Russell made a great show of pulling up his gun belt. “Seems there was a rather heavy strongbox on that load. The line was worried about leaving it in Dallas and that’s why they left with only two passengers. The Comancheros would be after the gold, but not the Comanche. I’ve been around these parts a long time and if it’s Comancheros, there’s nothing we can do but count our losses.”
“Any news of her?” Adam held his breath waiting for the answer.
“On the woman?” Russell shook his head. “If she’s not dead, she will be soon. Whoever robbed the stage went to great lengths to leave no clues to tell the story. If she got away, the weather or the varmints will have her by now. Official word from the stage line is that there was no woman on board. They figure she and the gentleman probably got off somewhere along the way at one of the ranches outside of Dallas. The only two men who know are dead and buried by that hull of a stage.”
Adam didn’t want to think of any woman being alone in this country, especially not Nichole. If she were the woman, she wouldn’t have gotten off. But where was she?
“I’d better turn in.” Adam nodded his farewell at the deputy.