Chase's Story (Grandma's Wedding Quilts Book 10) Read online

  “Foreman’s name is Ed Durbin. He’s watching it. Good man who’s been there a few years. Guess I need to find me some fool idiot that wants to live in Hell and sell it.”

  Chase sat up quickly. “I might be that idiot, July. I’ve dang near put away every cent I’ve been paid while working here. What are you looking to get for it?”

  July laid against his saddle and blew smoke rings in the air. He was the most easy-going man Chase had ever met. “I still got Ma and Pa’s place here in Missouri. Small cabin atwix a few trees. I go check on it every once in a while to make sure there ain’t no squatters.” July drew out a tin flask from his jacket and took a hardy swig. “Truth is, I got the long face from the doc not too long ago. Told me to give up my drinking and cigars.” Hard coughing took hold of him. “I’m dying anyway, why give up the only two things I like?”

  “July, I’m sorry. You should be resting, not out here in the cold night air.”

  “That’s a fact.” The old man looked at the stars. “When we get back, you and me’ll sit down and do some figuring. The only money I’ll be needed is enough to keep me in my two favorite things for a few more months. I’ll make my mark on the papers my bother give me and you’ll be a ranch owner your own self.”

  Chase stared at the old cuss of a man. He didn’t know what to say.

  “Shall we shake on it?” July asked, leaning on his elbow, holding out his hand.

  Once the deal was made and everyone signed the legal papers, July took his leave. Chase stayed a few more months until Sam could hire on more men.

  Chase decided to go back to Des Moines before moving to the Arizona Territory. He wanted to see his mother, no, he needed to see his mother before starting out on a trip that might keep him from ever seeing her again.

  “Why must you move so far away and in some untamed land?” she sobbed when he told her of his plans.

  “This might be my only chance to realize my dream, Mother.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I have to do this.”

  Using the hem of her apron, Viola wiped her eyes. “You’ll stay the night?”

  “No. I still have a lot of daylight left and a far piece to go.” His eyes watered when his mother’s lip started to tremble. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.” He pulled her into a fierce hug. “I love you, Mother. I’ll write when I can.”

  Both were startled when the front door opened. His father walked in, stopping short at the sight of his son. Charles shut the door and removed his brown, wool derby and set it on the end table. “This is a surprise.” Charles looked briefly at his wife, frowned, took out his handkerchief and handed it to her. “Are these tears of happiness?”

  Viola wiped her eyes and looked down. “Chase has come to say goodbye. He’s moving to the Arizona Territory.”

  If the circumstances were different, Chase would have laughed at the shocked expression on his father’s face. “The…the Arizona Territory? Why?” Charles demanded.

  Chase tensed automatically, preparing for the storm that was sure to come. His jaw clenched and his eyes took on a look of blue steel. “I was able to buy a working ranch.” His father opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Chase held his hand up. “It’s done! I just came by…well to see Mom before leaving. I don’t know when, or if I’ll be back this way”

  Chase turned and hugged his mother one more time. “Father,” he nodded and started for the door.

  “Son!” That single word brought Chase up short. He couldn’t remember his father ever using that term with him. Chase slowly turned. For a second, he thought he saw pain in his father’s eyes. Charles put his hands in his pants pockets and cleared his throat.

  “I suppose that Wilkins boy is going.”

  “Nope. Tim married Sam Buckner’s daughter, Sarah. They’ll be having a little one of their own in a few months.”

  Charles’ mouth opened several times to say something but the words didn’t come. Chase waited a few more seconds, then, with a heavy heart, walked out the door.

  Chapter 3

  A string of colorful oaths flew from his mouth as the first drops of rain started to fall. He jammed his black cowboy hat further down on his head and buttoned the top button of his jacket. He shouldn’t complain. The whole territory needed the rain, but he had a good two hours of sitting on that hard buckboard seat till he made it back to his ranch.

  Chase rarely made the trip to town for supplies. He always gave that tedious chore to one of his men, but James Darnell was selling a few bulls and Chase was in need of one. Picking out a good one was something he wouldn’t trust any of his hands to do, except maybe Ed Durbin, his foreman, but his wife, Emma, was ready to deliver their first born any minute and Ed needed to be close by.

  He was on the outskirts of Hackberry, in the northwestern part of the Arizona Territory with a wagon full of supplies and the bull he had paid dearly for, when he ran into Jim Music. Jim had founded the biggest silver mine in these parts. “How’s that mine panning out, Jim?”

  “Finding some color here and there.”

  They turned to watch two covered wagons drive slowly by. One was pulled by mules with a woman driving it. No sign of a man, but he could be anywhere. Her eyes had dark circles underneath them and held a haunted look. She seemed to see right through Chase.

  “These greenhorns come out here from the cities not knowing a dang thing about this here kinda life. Indians, snakes, picking up the sickness somewheres along the way, the heat, the cold. It ain’t no wonder so many families lose loved ones when they come west in search of a better life.

  The other wagon was being pulled by a pair of oxen. A man with a long, mangy beard drove that one. A woman and a few children walked along side. The woman looked ready to fall on her face. When Chase tipped his hat, there might have been a ghost of a smile on her face, but if so, it was gone in a second. A little ragamuffin with long brown, tangled hair smiled up at him and waved.

  “Could be some competition for you, Jim.”

  The old miner spit out a wad of tobacco, leaving some to drip down his chin. “They come in one week and are gone two weeks later. Think the silver is just laying around waiting to be picked up.” Jim took off his sweat-stained hat. Straggly, thin gray hair almost reached his shoulders. He scratched his head, cackling, “Twern’t more than a few days ago, when this no good yahoo shows up with a purty little lady and a young’un. Tells me he aims to strike it big here.”

  Another stream of tobacco juice hit the ground. “Well, Chase, the very next day, me and old Janie here,” he said, slapping the neck of an old white mule, “are riding by, minding our own when I hear that fella a yelling. I go over to him and he’s stumbling, waving a jug around and has his small fry by the shirt and is yelling at his woman to keep that dang brat out of his way. When she tries to get the boy away, that jackass clubs her with the bottle. She falls to the ground and then he throws the boy down beside her.”

  The old prospector took another bite of chaw from a sack. “I swear it took pert near everything I had not to shoot his ears off. What I did do was fire right close to his foot. I felt I needed to get his attention. Well that scared the hell out of him. He dropped his jug, spilling all his whiskey, and just stared. I told that pole cat that I’d be by every day and if I see any signs of him beating on either of those two, the next shot wouldn’t be in the dirt.”

  “What happened?” Chase chuckled.

  “Wandered by later that same day and they’d lit out. I have a feeling in my gut that I didn’t make things no better for the lady and the boy, but just couldn’t stand by and watch them be a treated that way.”

  “Did the only thing you could,” Chase said.

  Jim gave old Janie a nudge. “Watch yourself, young fella. All different kinds of folks coming through this a way. Reckon some might be looking for an easy way to get rich.”

  Chase gave the reins a slap and started on the long ride home. The rain continued to fall and when the wind picked up, his muscles tense
d from the cold. The winters were nothing like those back home in Iowa where blizzards were not uncommon and snow could fall for days at a time, but it was a different cold in the southwest. The level of snow in this area was scarce, but an Arizona icy wind could be felt through your clothes and cut clear to the bone.

  Chase yawned for the umpteenth time. His ranch was another forty-five minutes away. His back throbbed from hunching over in the freezing rain and he was cold and hungry. Chase groaned thinking there would be no hot meal waiting for him when he got home. Emma, who always cooked for Ed and him was staying off her feet as much as possible. He heaved a sigh of relief when the downpour turned to a drizzle.

  The sun was setting and Chase was hopeful he’d get home before dark. His eyes drooped and he gave himself the luxury of letting his head drop forward. He wasn’t sure if he fell asleep but the wagon jolted to an abrupt stop.

  Chase snapped his head up and found he was looking down the muzzle of a gun. More surprising was the woman holding the gun. She was soaking wet, with an eye swollen shut, dried blood coming from a cut somewhere under dirty brown hair, a lip that was split and deep, purplish bruises covering most of one side of her face. Though she stood about five and a half feet tall, she was so thin, a stiff wind wouldn’t have too hard a time blowing her to the ground.

  Her dress was one of an indiscriminate color, it was so faded. One sleeve was completely ripped away at the shoulder and the waist was also torn. She had the horse’s bridle in one hand and the gun in the other.

  Chase sat up a little taller and pulled the break on the wagon. “Ma’am, you don’t look too good, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “I…I’m sorry, mister, but I need your wagon and whatever water and food is on it. You can keep your cow.” A tear slipped down one of her cheeks. “I’ve got a little one who’s sick and got to get him out of here.”

  Chase pursed his lips and casually leaned his elbows on his knees. “Is that a Colt Walker? They stopped making those some twenty years ago.”

  She ignored his questions. “You need to get down.”

  The arm holding the gun started to shake. “I’ll shoot, mister. Don’t think I won’t.”

  Chase shook his head. “I don’t think so. You see, the Walker is a single action and the lever needs to be cocked with each shot.” He crossed his arms. “You will need both hands to do that and it looks like it’s weighing a bit too heavy for you now.”

  She chewed on the good side of her lower lip, fear and indecision written all over her face. When she turned to look over her shoulder Chase jumped from the buckboard, knocking them both to the ground. She screamed as he landed on top of her. He grabbed the gun before rolling back up to his feet.

  The woman, now covered in mud, curled into a fetal position and sobbed. Chase put the gun under the bench of the buckboard and bent to pick her up. She moaned when he laid her in the hard wagon. He reached over her to grab an old blanket when her hand shot out, grabbing his arm with a ferocity he didn’t think she possessed.

  “Timmy,” she gasped, holding tight. “Please,” she begged, a sob catching in her throat, “you have to get him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Up ahead,” she panted, “there’s a few boulders. He’s behind them and please be careful with him.”

  Chase hurried to the rocks and found the boy wrapped in a blanket. He lifted the blanket and his breath caught in his throat. If the bruises and cuts on the woman’s face were hard to look at, the condition of a boy so young and fragile, had his jaw clenching. Who would do this to a child?

  Blood that had gelled from a deep, oozing cut above his eye, had spread through his light-colored hair. A trail of blood ran from his ear down his neck. The boy didn’t have a shirt on and his ribs stuck out on his painfully thin body. His bruised neck made Chase think he’d been choked. One of his arms had a grotesque bow to it, undoubtedly broken. The paleness of the child had Chase checking for a heartbeat. Though slight, he offered a quick, “Thank you, God.”

  He carefully lifted the boy and carried him back to the wagon where he laid him next to the woman. Shimmering pools of green looked to Chase. “He’s so still. Is he—”

  “No!”

  “Timmy,” she crooned, crying softly. Her touch was like a whisper on his face.

  Chase checked his supplies and his prize bull. When he was back on the seat of the buckboard, he turned to find her asleep and the boy tucked in close beside her.

  Chapter 4

  The ride was painstakingly slow. Every time a wheel dropped into a rut, a moan escaped from the woman. He was at least thirty minutes from his ranch when two of his hands rode up. “Travis, has Emma had that baby yet?”

  “Nope, and because of that Ed is surly as a rattler on a hot skillet!”

  “I’ve got me a woman and young’un that are bad hurt. If Emma’s able, I need that spare room off the kitchen made ready for them and some water put on to boil. Jasper, you hightail it to Zack’s place and see if his wife can come over to take a look. They need doctoring.”

  The men wasted no time doing as they were bid.

  If the whole situation hadn’t been so serious, Chase would have laughed at the sight of a very pregnant Emma Durbin waddling out of the house and hurrying to the wagon. Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw what lay inside. “Sweet Jesus, Chase. Whatever happened?”

  “I don’t know. Is the bed ready?” He gathered up the little boy but the woman caught his arm, pleading, silently. “I’m taking him inside. This is Emma and she will help you both.” Her grip loosened. Chase took the boy to the room and put him on the bed. The boy didn’t wake.

  When he went back outside, the woman was on her knees, panting and holding onto the wooden sides of the buckboard. Chase put his hands around her waist to lift her out but stopped when a scream of pain ripped through the air. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. Must have some cracked or broken ribs.” He put his hands under her knees and shoulders and gently lowered her to the ground. He was helping her into the house when two lathered horses raced into the yard.

  Jasper jumped off his horse and reached up to help Juanita Lorerra from her horse. Flat Rock Springs ran along the eastern border of Chase’s ranch and wasn’t far from his house. Zack and Juanita Lorerra lived in a small place just on the other side of that spring. They raised hogs and chickens and traded pork for beef among some of their neighbors.

  Juanita was Mexican. Her hair was a mixture of gray and black that she wore in one long braid. She was in her early fifties and was almost as round as she was tall. She had wise dark brown eyes and a compassionate smile. She wore a checkered shirt tucked into pants that were rolled up showing old worn boots.

  Juanita threw open the back door and ran right into Chase. “Oh, Senor Chase, when I see Jasper come for me I think for sure it’s Senora Durbin, but he say it’s some other woman, no?”

  “That’s right, Juanita. I found the woman and a boy on the road. They’re in a bad way.” He followed the woman into the bedroom. Her eyes widened when she saw the woman, but when she saw the boy, a string of Spanish words flew from her mouth. Chase knew a bit of Spanish and by the time she was done, he was blushing

  “I need two pieces of flat wood for his arm and many rags. Water and cloth to clean him up.” Juanita looked at the woman. “We will need to fill a tub for her here in the kitchen. Once that’s done you and the rest of the men stay clear.”

  Chase hurried to find some wood. “I know where there are plenty of rags and towel,” Emma said. “I have the water already heating.”

  The woman was sitting on the bed, stroking the boy’s face. “I’ll get her a nightgown and something she can wear for tomorrow,” Emma whispered, the backdoor slamming as she ran out.

  Chase and Ed brought in a metal tub, leaving it by the stove. Two large pans of water were already being heated, but it would take many more to fill the tub.

  “The nino’s arm seems to be broken. I will have to se
t it. Would you prefer to wait in the kitchen?”

  The woman shook her head. “No, I’ll stay right here to help with my son.” She took the boy’s pants, shoes and socks off and cleaned him up as best she could with the wet cloths. He stirred a bit when she washed the cut above his eyes. It should have been stitched up, but it was too late now.

  “Senorita, you must hold the little one down while I set his arm. He will try to move, but he needs to be still. The quicker we get this done, the better it will be. Comprende?”

  A scream of pain ripped through the house when Juanita pulled on the boy’s arm. His mother held him down while the splint with put in place. The two pieces of wood were then tightly wrapped with strips of rags.

  “Mama!” the boy wailed.

  “I know,” she cried. “I’m sorry, but it’s all over now.” She held him, wincing in pain every time he moved against her.

  The boy looked at Juanita, then wildly around the room. “Where is he, Mama?”

  “He’s gone and we will never see him again.”

  His green eyes seemed to fill his entire face and his lips quivered. “My arm hurts, and I’m scared.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Her own green eyes looked like emerald pools. “Me, too.”

  Juanita watched the loving exchange between mother and son. The moment was gone when Emma burst through the door, clothes in her arms. Swallowing a lump of emotion Juanita asked, “What is your name, Senorita?”

  “Molly Simms. This is my son, Timmy.” Her voice shook.

  “I will fix something that will make both you and the nino feel better,” Juanita said as she walked from the room.

  Timmy hid his face in his mother’s side when Emma smiled at him. “I have these clothes your son can use, though they will probably be a little big. Perly, the previous owner, lost his son,” Emma said, “and I saved them thinking I just might need them for children of my own.”

  “Thank you Mrs.— ”