The blanket slipped away from the Indian's face as Karlee repeated Wolf's instructions.
To her surprise, none of the Buchanan men looked shocked at the near-dead, near-naked, blood-thirsty savage she'd brought.
“I almost killed him,” Karlee whispered. “He fell out of the wagon.”
She watched as Deut tenderly brushed the black hair away from the sleeping man's face then ran a hand over his scalp checking for cuts or bumps.
She saw the prisoner's features for the first time in the lantern light. He was little more than a boy. Out cold, he wasn't near as frightening. Several days growth of beard outlined his deeply tanned and dirty face.
“I didn't mean to,” she added, trying to remember if she'd ever seen a picture of a Plains Indian with a beard.
Deut pushed the dirt from the savage's face. “Lift him up carefully, boys, and take him to the cellar. Tie him three times what you would a normal man before you doctor him. Then bolt the door. One of you stand watch all night. No one opens the door unless we're all standing there.”
Karlee watched the sons followed their father's orders. One cradled the young man in his arms and walked toward the cellar while another grabbed a bucket of water from the well. The third passed Karlee, mumbling something about getting bandages and food.
“Is he a friend?” she asked. The caring was there, but they planned to tie him. Maybe he was a madman they all knew who only thought he was an Indian. She'd heard of families keeping insane relatives tied and locked in cellars.
“No,” Deut answered. “I never seen him before. Wolf told me a few days ago that he was holding him in one of the warehouses down by the waterfront until the other McLains arrived. My guess is the building was burning, or Wolf wouldn't have taken the chance of moving him. I'm surprised he let the boy out of his sight.”
“The chance? What chance?”
“If that young man gets free, he'll do whatever he needs to do to escape, including kill anyone who might try to get in his way. And knowing the McLains like I do, I'd bet anything Wolf and Daniel would be right in his way. They plan to keep him here until Daniel's brothers arrive.”
“But who is he?”
“Did you ever meet Daniel's older brother, Wes?”
“No,” Karlee answered.
“Or his sweet little wife, Allie, who'd been captured as a child by the Apache?”
“No.”
“Well, you just met her brother.”
TEN
BY THE TIME DANIEL RETURNED TO THE FIRE, MEN were organizing, but they were ants fighting a raging wall of destruction. Building after building fell. One block of downtown was already ashes, and three more burned in a frenzied rush. Men fought, then pulled back again and again to make a stand farther out.
The smoke stung his eyes. The heat slowly toasted his skin, but still Daniel struggled alongside businessmen and dock workers trying to save a fraction of their world.
When the blaze reached his church, Daniel doubled his efforts, moving to the front of the bucket line. A yellow glow behind the glass in the door warned it was already too late. The frame might be standing, but fire had reached the core of the building through the roof.
With a sudden anger, cast in frustration, he charged, ramming the glass with an empty bucket.
Glass shattered an instant before he felt wind rush past him toward the fire. The flame seemed to draw a breath just moments before an inferno roared out of the building at full charge. The building shuddered in death and crumbled, feeding the fire below.
Daniel felt a blast like an iron-fisted blow, lifting him off the ground with heat and glass and smoke. Pain was everywhere as his vision flashed to white light. Fire washed over him in a crushing tidal wave of crimson. Darkness followed, blanketing the white crystal brightness before him. All went black. Only the pain- agonizing, gut-wrenching pain-remained.
He rolled with the blow, vaguely aware of Wolf yelling his name. Then there was no pain, no fire, nothing.
Dawn spread across the sky in shades of violet and white-blues. Karlee leaned on the railing of the Buchanans' porch and drank her third cup of coffee. She'd been up over an hour. In a house so packed with people, everyone awoke with the first person and only slept when all slept.
She'd tried to busy herself by helping with breakfast. She made a great effort to learn to make biscuits. But Karlee doubted she fooled anyone. Worry over Daniel filled her thoughts, making simple conversation difficult.
The Buchanan women were a grand lot. They carried each topic on without her when she faltered. They understood. Daniel might be off fighting a fire, but most of their men were working the spring cattle drives. None mentioned the fire in town, or why Karlee had spent the night, just as none spoke of the dangers of a drive.
Granny treated Karlee's inability to cook as a personal gift Karlee gave to her. The old woman rambled on about all her secret recipes.
The house was bursting at the seams with people. Three Buchanans had married within the past few years, bringing wives beneath the roof. The four remaining single Buchanan boys had been delegated to sleeping in the barn. Most of the morning talk was about how several couples would build houses as soon as the men got back from the cattle drives to the west. The Buchanans might be rich in children and land, but they needed money to build.
Finally, Karlee escaped onto the porch. She drank her coffee and watched the black cloud rising from the direction of town. Daniel was somewhere in the ruin, and she could do nothing but follow his orders.
The twins ran onto the porch, laughing as Willow waddled through the door.
“Don't you girls giggle at me,” Willow yelled, “or I swear I'll have a boy to pester you both.”
The girls circled around Willow, patting her tummy gently.
“Now, none of that.” Willow plopped down in the only chair on the porch. “Don't go waking up the baby.” She spread her hand over her abdomen and cooed, “I don't have long before I'll have a little one to hold. Another month Granny guesses.”
Karlee liked the woman with her childlike mind and open smile. For her, the world was a simple place with no fear or doubt. She was loved and cared for here.
The pregnant girl's gaze met Karlee's. “Thanks for bringing the twins out. I love playing with them. I came to live with Mr. McLain the day his wife died on account of my still having milk from a baby I lost. He took me away from a pa who beat me regular. Mr. McLain was never nothing but good to me. I'm mighty pleased to see he found you.”
“He's a good man.” Karlee didn't know what else to say. Daniel had made it plain she was here to just look after the girls. Willow was guessing wrong if she thought there was anything between the preacher and Karlee.
“He's a measure better than good. He told me that if my Sammy don't treat me right, I can come back with him and the twins any time.” She blinked away a tear and smiled. “That sounds like somethin' a real papa would say.”
“Does Sammy treat you well?”
“Yes, Ma'am.” Willow giggled. “He says I can have as many babies as I want. He'll see they're all loved and fed. A man don't get no better than that, I figure.”
“No better,” Karlee answered.
A wagon's rattle sounded up the road. Both women moved to the steps. In the dawn light it took a few minutes to make out the forms.
Karlee spotted Wolf. His clothes were covered in black, and he was alone. He looked out of place atop the newly painted army supply wagon he drove. The struts bowed up over the wagon's bed, rounding the top, but the canvas had been rolled a foot above the bed to allow both shade and ventilation. Dread hit the bottom of Karlee's stomach.
“Willow, would you mind taking the twins out back to play?” Karlee said the words, but her voice sounded strange even to her own ears.