Sweetwater (Birdsong Series) (18 page)

“Let it burn,” he muttered. If he couldn’t find Emily, he
didn’t care if it all went up in flames. If he didn’t have her, he had
nothing. Blake felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. Turning
his eyes toward the tremendous heat, he watched the hungry, fiery tongues
devour his home and destroy all his hopes for the future.

In the distance, Blake heard the sounds of wagons and horses
traveling toward him at top speed, but he never looked up. He sat with his
head in his hands, not able to think of anything except the horrendous pain and
guilt he felt for not having been here to save Emily. The loss was
excruciating and tore him apart. Unable to cope, Blake screamed from the
torment ravishing his mind.

“What was that?” Dora asked, as she grabbed Whiskey’s
sleeve. “Was that a man’s scream or an animal hurt?”

Whiskey nodded. “We’ve got to get there fast,” he said, as
he slapped the reins again and again, forcing the team to go faster.
“Somebody’s in a heap of trouble.”

In just a few minutes, it appeared that half the town
arrived at what was left of Emily’s little farm. The blackened remains were
still smoldering and giving out a lot of heat, and it was evident to all, that
there was nothing to salvage. The damage had been done. By the time the smoke
was seen in town, the cause had been lost.

“Look yonder,” Dora said softly. She spied a broken and
discouraged man, sitting by the animal trough, with his head down and his
shoulders shaking with emotion. “It’s the doc.”

Patty, Cassie, Dora and Whiskey ran as quickly as humanly
possible to his aide. He was obviously in great mental and physical pain.

“Ooh, Doc. Look at your hands,” Cassie exclaimed. “They’re
all blistered. They must hurt an awful lot. Your hair is burnt, too.”

Blake looked up at the small crowd standing before him, and
stared as if he couldn’t recall who they were.
What blisters? Why were they all here?

Patty recognized the symptoms. “He’s suffering from shock.
Cassie, bring back a blanket and some coffee from the wagon. Dora, would you
tell everyone that the doc’s going to be fine, but it will take some time to
get him back to town? There’s no sign of Emily.” Her voice broke, as she
suddenly lost control. A sob escaped from her throat and she fell down beside
Blake, resting her head on his shoulder. There, she wrapped her arms around
his big body and cried until she had no more tears to shed. It was then she
noticed they were sharing the quilt that Cassie had found.

Wiping her eyes, she gathered up what little strength she
had, and tried to get control. “Doc. Where’s Emily?”

He looked at her with vacant eyes.
What was she asking?

“Doc,” she said louder and with more force. “We need to
know what happened and where to find Emily?”

Blake started to shake his head as he dragged his reddened
and blistered hands through his singed hair. “I don’t know,” he murmured so
low she could barely make out what he said.

Whiskey poured some whiskey in a cup and handed it to Blake.
“Drink this, son. It won’t change nothin’, but you’ll be able to cope with
it. I know.” Whiskey had tried to cope with the untimely death of Frieda
Birdsong several years back, and it was the fiery liquid that saw him
through—and the love he had for his adopted daughter, Eve.

“It’s getting dark, Doc. You need to get back to town and
have your hands treated. Most of our friends and neighbors have gone back.
Now it’s time for you to come with us,” Patty said, gently, knowing he would
not agree.

“No. I can’t go back. I gotta stay here and wait for
Emmie.”

“Emily’s gone, Doc,” Dora sniffled. “You cain’t do nothin’
for her, now.” She dabbed her eyes with her gloved hand and looked away, trying
not to lose her composure . . . for his sake.

“No!” he yelled. “I’m not leaving until I find her. For
God’s sake, I can’t just leave her here . . . all alone and in the dark. Don’t
you see? She’ll be scared.” His gut-wrenching sobs were frightening to
behold. The strong man was inconsolable. Cassie put her hands over her ears
and ran back to the wagon, not willing to be a witness to his agony.

Dora wrapped her strong and maternal arms around the young
doctor. “Life goes on, my dear boy, whether you want it to or not. You cain’t
never allow yourself to give up. You hear me?” She asked in a stern tone.
“Emily loved you and this little piece of land. You’ve still got that land.
Make somethin’ of it . . . for her sake. Don’t give up.”

“Okay, Doc,” Whiskey said, shaking his head slowly. He
patted Blake on the shoulder for reassurance and said, “We’ll leave you here,
for the night, but we’re comin’ back for you first thing in the mornin’, and
then you’ll be comin’ home with us. It ain’t healthy to stay here grievin’,
and I ain’t about to let you get sick and die from the miseries. We’ll be
back.”

The old man turned and nodded to the women standing by
Blake’s side. They reluctantly followed him back to the wagon and quietly left
their friend to grieve in his own way.

Night had descended and the blessed darkness disguised the
ugliness of what was left of Emmie’s beloved farm. Some of the structures
still smoldered, but for the most part, the fire had consumed everything and
had burned itself out. There was not a sound, other than Blake’s tormented
breathing and the slow beating of his broken heart. No stars twinkled in the
black sky; neither did the moon shine down to light his way. Blake had not
moved one inch since he realized Emily had perished. He had tried to force his
lungs to stop their filling with air, but it was useless. Life continued on
regardless of whether he willed it to or not.

“Emmie,” he whispered. “My darling, Emmie. I love you so.”

Suddenly he heard a slight rustle from behind where the barn
once stood. He jumped to his feet. “Emmie!” he shouted, as he ran toward the
sound. She had survived! He knew she had gotten away from the deadly inferno.

“Honk! Honk!” From out of the brush, the geese had returned
to the scene of the crime and they were obviously angry. The comfortable
porch, which provided them shelter, was gone. “Honk!” they protested. Covered
in ash and soot, they strutted around the yard, flapping their enormous wings.

Blake stopped, frozen in his tracks, and surprised himself
by grinning at the antics of the arguing birds. If he could understand goose,
he knew that
she
was letting
him
have it.

Now that he was on his feet, the cobwebs were slowly
clearing from his head and he could think more rationally. His pain was
overwhelming and all consuming, but he knew he had to find out what had started
the fire, in the first place. Emily was smart and careful. He knew she
couldn’t have been responsible. Blake looked around and saw no obvious cause.
At morning’s first light, he’d start searching for clues and he’d recover
Emmie. He couldn’t rest until he saw her buried proper.

Returning to his perch by the trough, Blake sat down and
closed his eyes, willing the sun to rise as quickly as possible and chase away
the damnable darkness.

* * *

Dora set the sandwiches in the center of the kitchen table,
while Cassie poured four cups of strong black coffee. No one felt much like
eating, but they could not sleep, either. The events of today were
indescribably horrible and too painful to think about. How could their Emily
be dead? It had only been the day before, when they had all been together.
The four of them sat in silence, trying to come to terms with their own grief.

Grunting like a much older man, Whiskey stood up and
sniffed. “I’ve got to attend to the team and check out that old wagon. It was
a hard trip, out there and back.” Looking at Dora with concern in his eyes, he
smiled, “You go on up to bed, darlin’. I’ll be along soon.” He sniffed once
again, and headed for the stables.

Dora watched Whiskey go. “He doesn’t want us to see how
badly this has affected him. He loves all of you girls as if you were his very
own. I guess I do too.” She smiled. “My heart just breaks for the doc. His
whole life was wrapped up in Emily. It just ain’t fair.” Tears threatened to
roll down her cheeks, once again.

Patty cleared her throat. “Well, I think Cassie and I need
to go up stairs and try to get some sleep. I expect the next several days will
be a nightmare. I just can’t imagine planning Em’s . . .” She couldn’t
complete the sentence.

Cassie took Patty’s hand and smiled. “I’ll help you, Patty.
You don’t have to do it all by yourself. I’ll get word to Eve.”

The two women got up from the table and walked, hand in
hand, up the stairs with Tippy following quietly behind them. He’d been
sitting patiently, at Cassie’s side, since their return.

“I’ll put out the lights and clean up in the mornin’,” Dora
muttered to herself, when suddenly the kitchen door burst open, scaring her out
of her wits. Instead of Whiskey standing there, a half-crazed bear of a man
stood unsteadily on his feet, using the doorframe to hold himself up. He was
clearly dangerous and in pain. Blood covered his shirt and he reeked of smoke.

Dora squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. She’d
show him he couldn’t push her around. “What do you want?” she asked with
authority.

“I need some money and I knows you got it.”

God, he smelled awful and he looked worse. “Money? Do I
look like a bank to you? You’re drunk! Go find someplace to sober up or I’ll
get the sheriff.”

He took a menacing step toward Dora. “You know who I am?”

“No, and I don’t care to know. Now I want you out of here,”
she insisted, balling her fists on her substantial hips.

Upstairs, Tippy was growling and scratching at the door they
had just closed. Cassie was puzzled. “Tippy! What’s gotten into you?”

“He acts as if he needs to go out. You get ready for bed,
Cassie. I’ll take him downstairs for you.” As Patty approached the door, the
little dog went wild. “Calm down, Tippy. Don’t you have an accident on the
rug.”

No sooner had Patty turned the knob, than the little dog
rushed between her feet and flew down the stairs, barking as if the hotel had
caught fire. The hair on the back of Patty’s neck stood on end. Tippy didn’t
have to go outside. He ran the opposite direction. Something was clearly
wrong. She looked back at Cassie and knew she felt the same thing. Without
saying a word, they ran down the stairs, following Tippy to the kitchen, and
heard a gunshot, followed by the yelp of a little dog.

Cassie’s face went stark white. “Tippy!” she screamed, as
she surged past Patty. Both women came to a sudden halt when they saw the
little dog lying motionless on the kitchen floor, blood pooling beneath his
brave little body.

Cassie was suddenly overcome with a mind numbing hatred for
the one responsible for this. She looked up and discovered Emily’s pa holding
a gun to Dora’s head.

“Come in ladies. This ol’ gal needs yer help. I need yer
money to get outta’ town in a hurry. Now, you . . .” He waved the gun around
at Patty. “You get all you got and bring it back. I’ll give you two minutes
a’fore I shoot the pretty little blonde. And I’ll do it too. After all, if I
can let Emily burn up . . . I can shoot this one. That little bitch tried to
poison me. Luckily, I got sick and threw most of it up. She deserved to burn.
Now, do as I say, Red!”

Patty threw both hands in the air to try to calm the man.
“No. Don’t do anything. I’ll get you your money. It’s in the safe. Promise
you won’t do anything. I’ll be right back,” Patty pleaded. She had never been
so frightened in her entire life. Immediately, she ran back through the door
to get him his cash.

“Now that’s one right smart gal. Purty, too. If she don’t
do somethin’ stupid, I just might let you two live . . . or maybe not. I could
sell a nice little piece like yerself, blondie. How’d you like that? After I
sampled you, myself, of course.” He licked his lips in anticipation of getting
a piece of the tender young woman.

Whiskey had heard the gunshot and ran back to the hotel. He
quietly peered through the window and saw a big man, Lucas, no doubt, holding a
gun to his Dora’s head. This man would not live long enough to see the sun, he
swore. Luckily, the man liked to talk and that kept him preoccupied enough to
allow Whiskey to slowly open the door. For an old man, he was still capable of
great strength and agility. In one swift move, he grabbed the man’s skull and
turned it around so fast, Lucas didn’t realize he was already dead. The crack
of breaking bones was deafening and a welcome sound to the two ladies being
held hostage in the kitchen.

As Lucas crumbled into a dirty heap on the floor, Whiskey
gathered up Dora, whose bravado had finally played itself out. She noticed her
knees were shaking and gladly leaned on her husband for strength.

Cassie was crying as she knelt next to the little puppy.
“Tippy, no, no. Why did you do it?”

Whiskey led Dora to a chair, and after making certain she
was doing all right, he carefully picked up the brave little dog. He carried
him over to the lamp and started to wash the blood from his fur. “Get me a
clean towel, Cassie.” As he gently ministered to the animal, Patty returned
with a basket full of cash.

“Is it over?” she asked, seeing Dora sitting in a chair and
Whiskey bending over Tippy.

Dora, looking older and smaller than she had earlier, nodded
her head. “Yes, dear. Whiskey saved us and now he’s tryin’ to save that
little dog.”

Cassie turned around with a huge smile on her face. “He’s
awake! He’s not dead after all!”

Whiskey chuckled. “He’s not even close to bein’ dead.
Brave little mutt fainted. That bullet parted his hair some, but it’ll look
good on him. Give ‘em some character.” The old man laughed. “He’s gonna be
fine, Cassie. Just give him lots of love and attention.”