Page 3 of Westbound Awakening

"Look Miss Lady, that boy is dragging Janelle out to dance. He's about to get some sore feet. You know she can't dance a lick." Mae purposely changed the conversation and was grateful when Miss Lady began to chuckle and clap along with the music. Glad for the reprieve from Miss Lady's inferring that she should be treated like a lady, Mae moved away to circle about the room and greet customers.

One of her girls stuck her head from the hallway and scanned the room until locking on Mae. Pale and shaking, the girl beckoned, hands moving fast.

At seeing her pallid face, Mae hurried closer. "Are you all right? Calm down before you attract attention. Whatever is the matter with you?"

The girl's mouth opened, but only air exited, no with no sound coming. She held one hand to flat against her chest and pointed toward the kitchen with the other. "I think there's a dead man out back. He's laid out on the ground." She heaved a shaky breath. "I was about to go out to get fresh air and tripped over him."

Her heart quickened, and Mae released a gasp, but quickly recovered and forced a calm façade. "Goodness. I will fetch James. Now you go upstairs and splash cold water on your face. Stay there and get some rest. And don't say a word to anyone." The girl's head bobbed up and down and she flew from the entryway up the stairs.

Mae turned away and took her time walking through the saloon to not rouse too much attention. Once she reached the bar, she waited to get James' attention and whispered for the burly bartender to follow her. "Wait just a few moments. I don't want to attract unwarranted notice," she instructed the man gave a barely perceptive nod in return. Mae stopped to make small talk as she made her way out of the saloon, dreading what she'd find once she exited the house.

Who could it be? No one was missing.

The kitchen door remained open. The cool breeze blew through the airy space, but she barely noticed in her rush to see who the unfortunate person was. Mae picked up her skirts and stepped through the doorway.

At first she didn't seen anyone, then she looked straight down and froze. A pale John McClain lay sprawled on the ground, eyes shut, not moving.

"Well I'll be damned, it's Captain McClain," James brushed past her, grunted when he leaned over the unconscious man running his hands over John's body. "You reckon someone shot him?" He peered closer at the man lying on the ground. "I don't see no blood. He's clean passed out or dead." The man pressed a finger to the side of John's throat. "I can't tell if there's a pulse."

Mae's heart stopped, and she reached out to the bannister to keep from collapsing. "Are you sure? Try again."

"Where have you two gotten to?" Miss Lady admonished from the kitchen. "The customers are thirsty, need James to man the bar." Miss lady walked out and stood next to her only to stiffen. "Oh goodness sakes, why isn't that Captain McClain?" Miss Lady pushed past a still nonmoving Mae and then shoved James away from John with surprising strength. "What are you doing James? Just looking at the man ain't helping none."

The gentle giant stood next to Miss Lady. "I don't see any injury, no blood." James straightened with his arms hanging to his sides and kept an eye on Miss Lady.

Miss Lady felt John's forehead and pressed her fingers onto the side of his neck. "He ain't dead. James pick 'em up and carry 'em inside to the bedroom just past the kitchen." Her sharp eyes met Mae's next. "For goodness sakes child, don't just stand there! Go open the bedroom door for James and get some cool water. The man is burning up with fever."

The stilled heart in her chest began to pound, and she felt air entering her lungs. When James had pronounced John dead, the very ability to breathe left completely. Her world stopped, and an all-consuming darkness threatened to overcome. Surely John would be all right. They just had to nurse him and ensure he rested.

Mae forced her mind away from the thoughts and shifted into action when James moved past her to toward the house with John in his arms. With quick steps, Mae raced back up the porch steps. To assure herself more than anything, she reached and touched John's heated face. He was warm, actually quite hot.

After James went down the hallway, having to turn sideways to get his burden through, she rushed past him to hold the door open for him. Once the bartender made it through the doorway, she rushed to the kitchen, filled a pitcher with cool water and grabbed a pile of clean linens from a sideboard. It was imperative that she be there when John woke. She needed to witness his eyes opening.

It didn't make sense. John seemed fine earlier when she'd spoken to him. Yes, he’d seemed overheated, but she'd attributed his flushed coloring to riding out in the sun and the overheated room. He was ill. She caught up with Miss Lady who was about to enter the room.

James and Miss Lady made quick work of removing John's clothing. Once the shirt was removed and James had pulled his boots off, he hesitated looking up at Miss Lady. "I need to take his britches off."

Miss Lady nodded, "Yes, he's bleeding from his right leg. We need to see what he's got going on there." The tiny woman turned and pushed Mae out the door. "You wait outside. I'll call you back in once he's covered up."

"Oh for goodness sakes Miss Lady," Mae exclaimed. "I've seen a man without his pants on." In spite of her protests, she found herself outside the door as Miss Lady shoved her with force and slammed the door behind her. With a resigned sigh, Mae paced back and forth with ill concealed impatience. Who'd shot John and why? Did someone hide outside and wait to shoot him when he'd exited the house? Perhaps he'd been mistaken for someone else. She hesitated and strained to hear what was happening in the bedroom when several of the girls walked past her to the kitchen. They didn't notice her agitation, and she was thankful for it. For now they needed to keep what happened quiet.

"Come on in Mae," Miss Lady finally announced, cracking the door. Before she could enter the room, James rushed past her and went toward the saloon.

"Where is he going in such a hurry?" Mae asked and went to the bed to look down at the still unconscious John.

"I told him to find the most sober soldier, so I can send him to go fetch the doctor."

Mae rushed to the bedside and peered down at a shirtless, John had a wet cloth on his brow and blankets tucked neatly beneath his arms. His damp mahogany brown hair clung to the sides of his flushed handsome face. It was odd to see him so still, so vulnerable. Her eyes lingered on his enticing parted lips. "Is he going to be all right Miss Lady?"

"He's been shot, twice. Not today. Looks like days ago," Miss Lady stated, lifting the blanket to expose his right leg. Mae's eyes widened at seeing the two angry wounds, one in his upper thigh and the second on his calf. Both leaked a yellowish liquid entwined with red blood.

"He's in a bad way. The wounds are infected," Miss Lady answered her silent question.

Mae pressed her palm against her chest. "Why was he here instead of somewhere recovering? He must have been in a lot of pain." A shiver traveled up her spine, and she trembled. "He should have remained at the post. In bed..."

Without opening his eyes, John moaned and winced when Miss Lady began to poke at the wounds. "I'm going to boil some water and clean it out. When I get back, I may need you to hold him still. Remain here, hold him down if he begins to stir too much, sooth him. Talk to him, keep him calm." Miss Lady instructed. "Sing if you have to. He may hear you, and it will help settle him."

"Sing?" Mae lifted an eyebrow. "That would probably push him closer to death."