The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [59]
Pulling himself from the bed, he once more fought with his boots while his arm ached. He touched it and realized the wetness on his fingers was blood. He could only imagine Doc’s lecture.
CHAPTER 26
The following day, John didn’t waken until nearly noon.
For certain, he must have been beaten and left for dead, because every muscle in his body screamed for mercy, and his arm throbbed every time his heart beat. For once he wished he was a drinking man so he could allow the whiskey to numb him all over. Coward’s way out, but oh so tempting.
Last night and early this morning clearly indicated John’s stupidity. When he returned from talking to Bob Culpepper and crept inside Doc’s house, he was certain the family would be asleep. Instead Doc was again snoozing in his chair by a dim lantern. John thought he’d gotten by with his second exit of the evening, but when he turned the doorknob to the bedroom, Doc startled. He lectured him for nearly fifteen minutes.
“John, do you have scrambled eggs for brains?” Doc struggled to his feet. “Look at that arm. I can tell from here it’s bleeding again.” The words of wisdom flowed freely, with John being compared to a mule, his Uncle Parker, and a few animals’ posteriors.
With fresh bandages, Doc ordered him to bed with the threat of hog-tying him there. Maybe John wouldn’t have felt so bad this morning if he’d listened last night. But if he hadn’t gone after Bert, she’d have been long gone by now. He’d come as close as a man could to telling her how he felt. When this cattle rustlin’ business was over, he and Bert had plenty to talk about.
John had needed to tell Bob what he’d surmised about the shooting. Bob hadn’t appreciated being wakened before dawn until John explained why he’d come.
“ … So Leon couldn’t have shot you. Another man in the woods behind us had to have pulled the trigger. Any idea who?”
“Not at all. Thought you might have an answer. The shooter must have wanted Leon dead. Which leads me to believe the cattle rustlin’ isn’t over yet.”
“You’re probably right. Glad I wired Denver for help.” Bob rubbed his face and yawned. “I’m up now. Guess I’ll get an early start on the day.” He peered at John’s arm. “You’re bleeding.”
John cringed. “Figured so.”
“Best get back to Doc Slader. He won’t be happy about you slipping off.”
Again.
All of the thoughts swirling around in John’s head brought him back to the present. He’d wasted daylight sleeping, and with all of the happenings in the last day—or did staying up all night mean two days? Didn’t matter, he had work to do. Mama would be worried sick about him, and he had to let her know he was fine. Then there was Bert. And Evan.
The door opened before he had a chance to swing his legs onto the wooden floor. Mama stepped in with Victor Oberlander. Seeing those two together changed his mood from anxious to surly, but he vowed not to show it.
Mama rushed to his side with tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’m fine, Mama. Don’t get yourself all worked up over nothing.”
Her lips quivered. “You were shot. Could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t. I knew I should have ridden home last night.”
“Nonsense, but I’m here to take you home now. Victor was kind enough to drive me here in his wagon. We have blankets in the back so you’ll be comfortable.”
We have blankets? John bit back his first initial response. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”
“Why?” She startled. “I can take care of you.”
“I have a few things to talk over with