Chapter Five

Nick rode up to the ranch, stopping his horse to ring the bell, tying her to a hitching post. He needed help with the boy. He held a firm grip on the kid's arm to keep him from sliding off the horse. He was afraid to let him go. "Come on, come on," he said, ringing fiercely. It was dusk and chores were being done. He knew that. But, panic built within him.

He heard his pretty sister's voice ring out. "Nick!" Audra was running from the house, waving her hand. "You found him!" he heard her call in the distance.

"Is it Heath?" Audra's voice quivered. "You found him? He's hurt! Oh no!" Audra stepped over to the horse, laying her hand on the leg of the young man.

"No!" Nick said more harshly than he intended. He couldn’t bear it. His brother was out there, alone, cold, probably injured. And here he was, helping a stranger, perhaps at the sacrifice of his brother. If he'd had a few more hours, he might have found him. But his hands had been tied with the makeshift surgery that might've killed this boy. His hands were bloody any way he looked at it.

"You were searching for Heath!" Audra cried. "Who's this?" Audra frantically wrestled with the ropes that looped around the boy's waist, tearing at them, eager to free him.

"Some strange boy I found lyin' on the ground, on our property, near a fence," Nick said gruffly. "He'd been shot - twice. In the side and leg."

Audra ripped the rope from the boy, and he started sliding off the horse, caught by Nick's strong hands. "I need help with him," Nick said. "Is Mother home yet?"

"She just returned an hour ago. She's resting."

"Go get Jarrod," Nick said. "And, tell Mother we have an injured boy who needs tendin' to."

Audra's sad blue eyes met Nick's. "Yes," she said, lifting her skirts to run quickly back to the house.

"You awake, boy?" Nick's leaden voice asked. He wasn't sure why he cared so much about this rascally vagabond in the odd clothing. Maybe it was to distract him from the other rascal in his life, his brother, Heath. He cupped the senseless boy's face to his chest. "Help's on its way," he said. "Ya hang in there with me, Lucas."

Nick looked up when he heard the racket of a horse pulling a rough wooden sledge, one they usually used to haul firewood to the house. Jarrod was driving. Audra must be in the house, telling their mother about the injured stranger.

"You're covered in blood," Jarrod observed, pulling the sledge right beside Nick and hopping off the draft horse.

"I know," Nick replied.

Jarrod took the unconscious boy from underneath his arms; Nick had his legs. The two brothers worked carefully to position the boy on his left side, away from the gunshot wounds.

Jarrod didn't ask about Heath. It was obvious Nick hadn't found him and was feeling terribly guilty. Close relationships were like that - as intense in their arguments as they were devoted in friendship. It was a two-sided coin, and Nick was on the end of feeling responsible for a younger brother who was vulnerable and sensitive to criticism. With Nick, everything had its time and place, while Heath enjoyed life as it came.

The sledge was rough, and the boy's limbs jumped and thrashed around as they moved toward the house. Jarrod looked behind him and saw that the boy wasn't awake to feel the pain.

Nick and Jarrod carried the boy into the house, and Audra held open the back door so they could move quickly. "In the kitchen!" she directed. "Silas is heating hot water, and I cleared the work table."

"Oh, for heaven's sakes," Victoria said when she caught sight of a bloodied Nick and the strange boy. "What happened?" She tied an old work apron over her tidy, black traveling dress.

"Welcome home, Mother," Nick gritted out as he and Jarrod positioned the boy on top of the wood block table. It had been put to many years of service, and a few bloodstains wouldn't ruin the weathered piece of furniture.

Silas glanced at them as he finished cooking dinner. He wiped his hands on a clean towel. "I'll be settin' up the dining room, ma'am," he said as he turned to leave the kitchen. "Hot water's ona back of the stove if you be needin' it."

Jarrod ran his hand across his forehead, careful not to mar his white shirt with a little work sweat. "He's a mess," Jarrod pronounced, looking curiously at the injured young man.

"Let me see!" Audra said. "Oooh. He's young. He's cute!"

Jarrod and Victoria exchanged glances, and Victoria said, "Audra, I need you to take a dinner plate to our houseguest, Mademoiselle Marcelle. Please wait in the dining room until I come for you."

Audra's face screwed up to protest, but Jarrod held up his hand. "Please, Audra. This is serious."

"I'll let ya know how he is," Nick said.

"I want details," Audra pouted as she played with the fringe on her shawl and tapped her shoe impatiently.

Nick gave her a grin. "All the good parts," he promised with a quick cross over his heart. "Get along, little sister." He gave her a wink that made Audra laugh and wave to him as she left.

"How'd this happen?" Victoria asked as she quickly stripped the young man and handed the bloodstained clothing to Nick. She rang her cloth out, not heeding the boiling temperature in her haste to clean the wounds and examine them. She lifted a flap of skin on the boy's side and winced. "Nice work with the knife, son," she said with a trace of sarcasm.

Nick blushed. "It couldn’t wait. He'd have died out there. I did the best I could in an old line shack with a nearly dry well."

Victoria smiled. "You always do. Jarrod, would you hand me my basket? I'm going to make him a poultice. It should prevent infection while stopping the bleeding. He's lost quite a lot of blood. He's certainly too pale."

Nick nodded wordlessly, watching closely and running a nervous hand over his tousled hair.

“What’s the story on the boy?” Jarrod asked as he handed his mother her portable apothecary.

"I'm not sure," she said, wiping her hands off on the tattered apron. "There's damage to the muscles in his leg. It might give him a permanent limp." She packed the boy's wounds, glancing at his face occasionally to determine if he were feeling pain.

"What's the story on Heath?" Jarrod finally asked, no longer able to restrain his curiosity. "Do we need to contact the sheriff?"

Nick nodded. "I couldn't find him. I searched about half the ranch. Didn't have time to make the full tour."

"We'll form a team of men to search at daybreak," Jarrod said. "If we follow a proper search pattern, we should be able to cover the entire property by noon."

Nick looked away. Jarrod was a man to take charge when the chips were down. At times he resented it, but he was exhausted, mentally and physically. Another man needed to take over. That's why he'd returned to the ranch. For his mother's medical expertise as well. "How's he doin'?"

"The wound to his abdomen is serious. I'd like for Dr. Merar to examine him. I'm no expert."

Nick caught Jarrod's eye. Their mother was as much an expert as any book trained man. She'd run this ranch for years, patching up laborers and boisterous brothers in constant trouble. Broken bones, gunshot wounds, infections, and accidents. She'd done it all, including veterinary duty. He'd learned everything he knew from this brave, adventurous woman.

Victoria covered the boy with a worn yet clean sheet. "Let's try and wake him," she said. "He needs water. It'll help him replace the blood he's lost."

"Up we go," Nick groaned, lifting the boy's shoulders from the table and holding him up.

"Hey there," Jarrod said, slapping the kid's cheek. "What's his name?" he asked his brother.

"He said he's Lucas Spencer. Have you heard of any Spencer family in these parts?"

"No. Not from around here," Jarrod said.

"Does he have a nickname?" Victoria asked as she held a tin cup of water to the boy's lips.

"He mentioned Lucky," Nick said. "Didn’t seem like a proper name to me."

"No time for manners," Victoria said. "We need to reach him as best we can. Lucky? Can you hear me? Wake up, son. Wake up, Lucky. You need to drink now." She poured a trickle of water into his mouth and hopped back when he spewed it from his mouth, hitting Jarrod square in the face. The boy's eyes barely opened, and he frowned.

Nick let out a short bark of a laugh, and Jarrod couldn't help smiling as he wiped his face with his handkerchief and replaced it in his breast pocket, soiled and limp. "Pleased to supply the evening's entertainment," Jarrod said wryly. "Myself and Lucky, that is."

***

"Barbara Jean," Luke said, grabbing his sister's arm. "We need to talk."

"I'm working, Luke," Bobbie said, frowning. "What's this about? Why were you bothering that John Doe?"

Luke motioned her to the side of the nurse's station, away from prying ears. "I think he's connected to Lucky somehow," he whispered.

Bobbie looked exasperated. "Luke. Come on. The police have given up the search. You need to accept he's gone. It's a terrible tragedy, but we have to move on."

"No!" Luke insisted, his eyes lighting up in righteous anger. "I'll never accept that. Because he's not dead. Lucky's alive, and I'm going to find him."

Bobbie removed her brother's hand from her arm. "I'm worried about you. You look haggard, and I know you've been drinking." She gave him a saucy smile. "More than usual that is."

Luke's face grew tense. "I've seen him before. In a picture."

"Who? The John Doe?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "Yes. Who else?"

"What picture?"

Luke frowned. "Do you remember that collection of old photos Aunt Ruby was hanging onto? Whatever happened to those? After she died."

"I have them. They're in my attic somewhere. I'm not a family historian like Ruby was. I thought I'd keep them for the next generation. Maybe someone will be interested in them."

Luke's eyebrows rose. "I'm interested, Barbara Jean. Can I borrow them?"

"Sure. Stop by the house tonight after work. I'll let you rummage through the attic. Maybe you can lay a few mousetraps while you're at it. But why the sudden interest in family history?"

"Like I said. Someone in a photo looks exactly like that man with the bullet wounds in his gut. It must be thirty years since I've seen the photo, but my mind went right to it." Luke clicked his fingers for emphasis.

"I don't want you to be disappointed by going down blind alleys," Bobbie cautioned. "And what's this have to do with Lucky's disappearance?"

Luke rubbed his chin. "I don't know. Truly I don't. I'm going by instinct on this one. And you know how I am about my instinct."

"Best lover you ever had," Bobbie teased him.

Luke's eyes danced. "She's never let me down."