Ribbons of Steel (22 page)

Charley cleared his throat and entered the room as if nothing was amiss, hoping to catch the man’s attention. Aderley didn’t bother to lift his head or hide the tears streaming down his ashen cheeks. Instead, he gave a great sniff, cleared his throat, and wiped at his face with large trembling hands.

“He’s dead,” Mason Aderley keened. “Oh, my God in heaven, Charles. He’s dead.” The big man’s voice shook with the news.

“The man made it through the fire,” Charley said, sure Aderley referred to Westmüller. “I was sure God would’ve saved the man’s soul after all he suffered through.”

“No. Not Westmüller, dammit,” Aderley yelled, pounding his fist on the table.

Charley jumped back at the outburst.

“Not Westmüller. If only it was. No. God almighty, Charles, my son. I just got a telegram from some god-forsaken place called Silver Springs. There was an accident. The train my wife and boys were on got detained on the other side of the Rockies. A damaged train trestle, of all things. A buffalo stampede. Indian hunting party chased them across the plains. My son. My son, Jason, was trampled in a buffalo stampede. He’s dead. I sent them away from harm, but instead, I sent them right into it.”

The man bowed his head in his hands again and sobbed deep gut-wrenching sobs. Charley rushed to the desk, opened the bottom left-hand drawer, and took out the bottle of whiskey. He detached the cork and handed it to Aderley.

“Here, drink up.”

Aderley didn’t need to be told twice. Oblivion was the only way to handle this kind of news on the back of the oil car disaster. Right now Charley didn’t give a damn about the railroad or the strike. It was all a big poisonous cauldron anyway. Aderley’s pain went much deeper than any of those problems.

Charley sat down on the other side of the room and waited as Aderley drank himself into unconsciousness.

Charley jumped from his chair and started pacing.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
Emily had been on that train, too. Her telegram hadn’t said anything about a stampede. As soon as he took care of Aderley, he’d head on over to the telegraph office and contact Seth and find out just what had taken place. Find out if Emily had been hurt.

Damn trains. Damn strike.

Aderley’s head lolled forward, then hit the desk with a thud. Charley grabbed the bottle of whiskey, took a long eager swallow, plunked the bottle on Aderley’s desk, and walked out.

Strike be dammed.
He prayed Emily was okay.

****

“Mrs. Aderley is asking for you,” Mrs. Shay said. She rushed into the parlor, her face flushed with concern. “I assured her I’d fetch you right quick.”

“Oh, my, is she okay? Is something wrong?” Emily followed Mrs. Shay down the hallway to Marian Aderley’s room where she and her son had been cloistered since they’d arrived in Silver Springs. Emily prayed the poor woman wasn’t on her death bed.

The afternoon sun was hot and the air dry. Emily shuddered as she entered the dark room, humid and musty from lack of fresh air. Marian’s still body lay hidden under a heavy handmade quilt of muted shades of blues and greens from many washings and hangings in the sun. Emily approached the bed as quietly as possible, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d tapped her heels across the bare hardwood floor. Marian looked to be dead to the world. Emily’s heart raced.

“Marian?” Emily put her hand on the woman’s forehead. Despite the hot room, it was cool to the touch. “Marian. It’s Emily Carmichael,” she tried again. “Mrs. Shay said you were awake and calling for me. How are you feeling?”

Marian opened her eyes to mere sunken slits. Emily sighed at the effort it took for Marian to focus her tired, pain-filled eyes. The woman was much too frail. The once vibrant woman, glowing with health, now gazed at the ceiling in the dark, wasting away.

“Let me open the curtains to let some sunshine in so you can enjoy this glorious day.”

Not waiting for a reply, Emily rushed to the window and drew back the heavy curtains. She was surprised the doctor’s wife hadn’t already opened them on such a bright warm afternoon. Within seconds the room glowed with warmth.

Marian’s son, Jonathan, stirred. Emily turned to find him huddled in a chair in the corner, leg propped up, head lolled sideways. Even in sleep the boy looked sad, sullen, and subdued.

“Are you in pain, my dear?” She turned her attention back to the boy’s mother.

Marian blinked several times, then uttered a few words in a strained voice Emily had to draw closer to hear.

“Not if I lay still,” Marian mumbled.

“What can I do for you? A drink of water, perhaps? A cool cloth?”

Marian’s whisper was weak, as if the mere motion of forming words caused her lips to hurt. “The ache in my heart is much worse than any pain I suffer in either my ribs or my leg.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emily soothed, stroking the woman’s brow, aware there was most likely nothing she could do to alleviate the woman’s agony. There was no cure for heartache. But she had to ask just the same. “Has anyone sent word to your husband? Will he be joining you in San Francisco?”

“I’ve had word sent. But Mason is much too busy with matters of the strike back east to worry about me,” Marian uttered as tears rolled over her pale cheeks. Her thick, black lashes spiked from the wetness against her chalk-white skin. The woman resembled a waif adrift at sea.

Emily’s own cheeks were a bit damp as well. She took Marian’s hand in hers and patted it gently.

“I’m sure your husband will be concerned. As soon as the doctor returns, I’m sure he’ll give you a dram of laudanum for the pain. I pray it will be soon.”

Emily walked to the dry sink, found a large but dainty white fluted bowl with roses circling the rim. Mrs. Shay had filled it with fresh water. A pristine white cloth and hand towel lay in a tidy pile next to the basin. Emily dipped the cloth in the lukewarm water, wrung out the excess, then returned to Marian’s side. With gentle strokes, she swabbed Marian’s brow.

“Your son needs tending, as well,” Emily soothed. “I’ll check with Sheriff Coulter to see if he knows of someone who can be of help until the doctor returns. Perhaps Mr. O’Leary from the train might be willing to stop by. He was very helpful while we were at Weber Canyon.”

“Please, if you would be so kind to take care of my son. Tend to his needs.”

Jonathan stirred, moaned at the mention of his name, and then opened his eyes. He looked around the room in confusion. Emily wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him.

“Don’t you worry now, Marian. I’m glad to be of assistance anyway I can. You rest.”

Emily drew the coverlet down to allow air next to Marian’s inert body. There was no need for her to be so bundled. She made her way around the foot of the bed and approached Jonathan.

“It must be hard for such a young active boy like yourself to be stuck in this room with a broken leg all day. I’ll see if I can find someone to carry you outside where you can get some fresh air and enjoy this sunshine.” Emily pointed to the window, but Jonathan didn’t bother to look, his eyes focused on his mother. “The Shays have a wonderful front porch.” Emily tried to coax a response from the young boy. “I’ll just go see if Sheriff Coulter can find someone to help get you outside without damaging your broken leg further.”

Jonathan looked at his mother as if waiting for her approval. Emily waited, too, and was soon rewarded when Marian nodded her head. Good. The young man needed to get out of the dark room. The sooner the better.

Emily left to search for Sheriff Coulter. Walking down the boardwalk, she lifted her freshly laundered skirts, thanks to Mrs. Shay, and stepped down to cross the dirt street to where the Bottom’s Up Saloon was full to overflowing with business already. She spotted Sheriff Coulter coming from the jail, three buildings down. She waved to gain his attention.

“Sheriff Coulter. We need your assistance, sir. Young Jonathan needs to be taken outside to take advantage of this beautiful sunshine and get out of his dark sickroom. Could you do us the honor of finding someone to help transfer him to the front porch?”

Sheriff Coulter tipped his hat. “I’d be happy to, Ma’am.” He followed Emily back to the house where Mrs. Shay stood, waiting for them on the front steps. Together they managed to get Jonathan situated in a chair tucked in a corner of the porch where they propped his foot up on a pillow.

“I know just the thing for you young man,” Mrs. Shay said, her finger pointing up in the air, her head bobbing sideways. “A nice tall glass of squeezed lemonade. I had a delivery of ripe lemons the other day and kept them in the root cellar for just such an occasion.”

Mrs. Shay spun around and entered the house to fetch the lemonade. Emily turned once again to Sheriff Coulter.

“Could you do one more kindness for us this morning, Sheriff? Mrs. Aderley is in need of a pain killer. My supply of Dover’s powder has dwindled. I wondered if perhaps you would check with the others, see if someone might have some laudanum on hand. The poor woman’s broken ribs are extremely painful. She isn’t able to get the rest she needs, and I’m afraid Dr. Shay took what was left of his supplies with him.”

“Leave it to me, Ma’am. I’ll see what I can do.”

Levi Coulter tipped his hat, then sauntered back across the street toward the saloon where many of the stranded had been filing in for a noon-time meal. Although off limits to women in the evening, the Bottoms Up Saloon served a grand spread during the day for the stranded passengers and trainmen.

“That should quench your thirst, young man,” Mrs. Shay said, returning with a glass in hand and a smile on her rosy face. “Now, you just call out if you need anything else. I’ll go inside and tidy up your room and check on your mother.”

“Looks like everyone is heading in for a noon-time meal,” Emily stated the obvious to the Weaver sisters as they came out of the house.

“Yes,” Pansy replied. “We were just off to partake.”

“Would you like us to bring something back for you?” Violet asked.

“Thank you, you’re very kind, but I’ll make my way over in a bit. I’ll sit here with Jonathan and keep him company for awhile.”

The Weaver sisters preceded down the steps, then crossed the dusty street, arm in arm. Mr. O’Leary opened the swinging doors for them and then disappeared inside.

“Why don’t you get yourself something to eat, Mrs. Carmichael?” Mrs. Shay said. “I’ll keep an eye on this young fellow now his mother is all settled.”

“I’ll send something over for Jonathan. A growing boy has a hunger needing to be satisfied. He looks to be wasting away.”

“I’ll be fixing some broth for the boy’s mother, don’t you worry about her.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Shay. You’ve been too kind to us already.”

“I’ve enjoyed your company. We don’t get many visitors way out here. Now, you just get on over there and get yourself something. You need to keep your own strength up. You worry about others more than you do yourself.”

Emily didn’t hesitate to cross the dusty street. She paused in front of the saloon’s swinging doors, not feeling right entering an establishment full of rough men. But she couldn’t deny the townspeople had welcomed them all with open arms. They’d even kept the night-time escapades to a minimum until after the passengers from the train finished their evening meal.

She swung the doors open, entered, and then cautiously stepped inside. The din of conversation and rattle of china and utensils filled the large room. Emily scanned the open space, and spotted Mr. O’Leary, who immediately spotted her. Like a gallant, kind gentleman, he came to her aid.

“Well now, Mrs. Carmichael. Will ya be joining us for some lunch? ’Tis not much, to be sure, but ’tis not bad for having to feed the bunch of us.” He tucked her arm inside his and led her across the bare planked floorboards to his table.

Emily wanted to lean on him and let him carry her burden, he was such a gentleman; a truly caring person. However, with all the sleep and rest she’d indulged in over the past few days, she had gained a bit of strength and was determined to walk on her own two feet.

“What be bringing such a sad look to yer sweet face, me dear?” he asked.

Emily stepped aside. She forced a smile for his benefit.

“Mrs. Aderley is still not well. Her son sits on the front porch and is in need of some nourishment.”

“Of course. Of course. We will see he gets a heaping plateful. Now, Mrs. Aderley. What can I be doing to help her?”

“Her pain is still fierce, I’m afraid. She isn’t sleeping very well, nor is she eating as she should. Mrs. Shay is preparing broth for her.”

Mr. O’Leary pulled out a chair for her. “You will eat. You look to be ready to pass out yerself. I will arrange a dish from this bountiful spread these kind folks have laid out for us and send it over to the lad.”

“Thank you. But I wonder, Mr. O’Leary, do you know of any of the passengers who might have something for pain? The doctor is not back yet, and he might not return for a couple more days. I am afraid Mrs. Aderley’s mental well-being is deteriorating because of her unfortunate incident. I’ve given her a touch of my Dover’s powder the last two days, but, like I said, I have little left for myself. I would have asked right away, but I thought the doctor would have arrived before now. I’m sure he’ll be able to prescribe something for her when he gets back to town, but in the meantime I don’t have much left to share, and she does need something to ease the pain .”

“To be sure I can help. Ya see, my dear lady, I can be of assistance m’self as soon as I have something sent over for the boy. You sit here and relax a wee bit and eat.”

Mr. O’Leary, with his twitchy long beard and Irish brogue, made his way to the far end of the room and returned with a cup of hot tea. He then returned with a plate piled high with a thick slice of ham, baked beans, and fried potatoes.

“My land, sir, I don’t think I can eat all this. Perhaps you should send some of it back.”

“Nonsense. Do what you can. I’ve found someone to take a plate to the boy.”

Emily took the fresh, warm biscuits apart and savored the yeasty aroma as the steam rose up to meet her nose. She smeared a dollop of butter on top. The taste was as divine as they looked and smelled. The people of Silver Springs had come out and done a fine job of taking care of everyone, making sure there was enough food and lodging. Perhaps Elizabeth Young would do well here, after all.