Chapter 16

16

Philip set his jaw as the rope slid slowly through his hands. He peered over one shoulder to keep an eye on where he planted each foot. He’d not do the kid any good with a twisted ankle. If the kid was even alive.

His throat tightened as he widened his scope to take in the young man. Dennis still hadn’t moved. One of his arms seemed to be lying at an unnatural angle, too. Not a good sign.

Please let him be alive, Lord .

No parent should have to bury a child. It went against the natural order. Yet far too many children found their way into early graves. Like Andrew. His brother would have been twenty-five this year had he not contracted diphtheria at the age of six. Philip still remembered standing in the cemetery next to his father, hearing his mother weep softly, and feeling his sister slip her tiny hand into his. As the oldest, it was his job to protect the younger ones, and although he understood he had no power to thwart sickness, it still felt as if he’d failed somehow. He’d been around Calvin’s age when he’d dropped that handful of dirt onto his brother’s coffin, the damp clod making a mournful thump as it hit pine.

Philip yanked his gaze from Dennis and his mind from his memories and forced himself to concentrate on placing one step after another. When he reached the end of the rope, he pivoted to face downhill and half trotted, half skidded the last ten or so feet. He hunkered beside the unconscious boy, careful not to bump him. Turning his cheek, Philip pressed his ear close to Dennis’s mouth, praying that he’d feel the warmth of breath. A slight wheeze sounded, and Philip zeroed in on the kid’s chest. It moved.

He jerked his face up and cupped his hands around his mouth. “He’s alive!”

Two faces peered at him from the rock ledge above. One small and nondescript from this distance, the other attached to a long braid of auburn hair that glowed in the late-afternoon sunlight as it dangled over the lip of the ravine. A pointy canine face poked into the picture as well. The only thing missing was a pair of horse noses.

Philip shook his head. He wanted to scowl and shoo them all away from the edge, but over the past few days, Letty had proven to be a nurturing sort. Affectionate with the animals. Even fussed over him, pestering him about sleeping and eating enough. She’d do nothing to endanger Calvin. Lying on their bellies to watch was likely safer than standing up and peering into the ravine. And while he didn’t particularly want to have an audience for what was sure to be an agonizing series of events, he understood the need a brother had to watch over his own.

Turning back to Dennis, he examined the boy as gently as he could, checking for other broken bones and for bleeding. His right arm was definitely busted, but the bone hadn’t pierced the skin, thank God. Dennis moaned when Philip pressed lightly against the bottom of his chest. Probably had a few cracked ribs. The kid’s belly was soft to the touch, though, instilling hope that there wasn’t bleeding inside. Scrapes lined his face and hands, but Philip couldn’t find any serious wounds. Maybe he had a chance, after all. If Philip could get him back up the ravine without doing any additional damage.

A daunting prospect seeing as how he’d never set a broken arm before. He’d had one set, though, about ten years ago, after he’d busted his when Dalton Jones dared him to ride his pa’s unbroken mustang. He’d held on longer than any of the other boys who’d been foolish enough to take Dalton up on his challenge, but he’d flown higher than they had, too. And landed harder. Mama had not been impressed when he’d limped home with his arm cradled against his belly. He’d never received such a tongue lashing. Didn’t help that she was crying through most of it, making him feel even worse for causing her such distress. The doctor had set his arm with slow, steady pulling and pushing until his bones lined up properly.

Philip would have to do the same for Dennis. The kid’s arm had to be straight for him to splint it, and it needed to be splinted to keep it from further injury as they made their ascent out of the ravine.

Probably a good thing the kid was unconscious. This was gonna hurt like the dickens.

Philip moved into position and set his jaw as he gently probed to determine where the edges of the break were. Taking hold above the boy’s wrist, he paused to steady his own nerves.

Guide my hands, Lord, and place the bones where they need to go.

He swallowed, trying not to lose a grip on his confidence. If God could use a shepherd boy with no military experience to slay a giant, maybe he could use a Pinkerton agent with no medical experience to set an arm. He inhaled deeply, then held his breath as he began to tug.

Don’t let me make things worse.

Philip worked as carefully as he could, the boy’s insensible whimpers tearing at his heart. The arm began to find a more natural position, but the last bit of maneuvering was going to be the worst. Bracing his foot against the boy’s upper arm, he tugged and twisted with greater force. Dennis screamed and tried to sit up, but Philip slid his leg over the top of the boy’s chest and held him down until the bone edges finally found their fit. He immediately laid the arm down and scooted his leg off the writhing boy.

“Easy, Dennis. You have a broken arm. I was setting it.” Philip placed his palms on the boy’s shoulders, gently holding him in place. “My name’s Philip Carmichael. Your brother, Calvin, sent me down to help you. You fell into the ravine. Do you remember?”

“Dennis!” Calvin’s panicked, high-pitched voice echoed from above.

The boy stilled and opened his eyes. Pain clouded his gaze, but he managed to focus on Philip’s face. “Calvin. Is he...?”

Philip smiled. “He’s fine. I think the little scrapper was trying to climb down into the ravine to rescue you, but he had the good sense to stop and call for help.”

At least that’s what he assumed Calvin had been doing.

“We found him and pulled him up. He’s safe.”

Dennis’s eyes slid closed. “That’s good.”

“Dennis?” A second cry came from above. A sob caused Calvin’s voice to crack.

Philip eased away from Dennis, his hold no longer required. He sat back on his heels and turned toward the overhang. “He’s going to be all right,” he shouted. “Just had to set his arm.”

All distance separating Letty and Calvin had vanished. How easily he could imagine her wrapping an arm around the boy and petting his back like she did Rusty. She wasn’t one to withhold comfort or affection. Not even from highhanded Pinkertons who snapped orders and denied her requests.

He still remembered the touch of her hand on his arm and the softness in her gaze as she urged him to be careful. They’d been arguing not two minutes before, yet she’d set all that aside in an instant to convey genuine concern for his well-being. Not many women of his acquaintance handled themselves with such magnanimity. Men either, for that matter. Probably himself included.

Turning back to his patient, he frowned at the boy’s closed eyes. “You still with me, Dennis?”

Lashes fluttered, then lifted. “Yessir.”

“Good.” This was going to be hard enough to manage with a conscious kid. Trying to wrangle an unconscious one would be much more difficult. “I’m going to help you sit up.”

Carefully supporting the arm he’d just set, Philip placed it across the boy’s chest so Dennis wouldn’t try to move it on his own when he sat up. Dennis squeezed his eyes shut and moaned during the transition, but he didn’t cry out. Brave lad.

“You ready?”

The kid opened his eyes, a glint of determination sharpening his gaze. “Mm-hmm.”

Philip took hold of Dennis’s left arm and placed a supporting hand to the boy’s back. “We’re gonna go slow. Your ribs will likely pinch, so be prepared for that. But if anything else hurts, or if those ribs take a bad turn, give a holler, and I’ll stop.”

Dennis clenched his jaw and nodded.

Slowly, they got him up. Dennis grunted as he rose and drew his knees in to sit cross-legged as he curled forward.

Glad to see him moving his legs on his own, Philip peered over the boy’s shoulder to scan his back for any sign of injury. Dirt caked his shirt, but he didn’t see any stains that looked like blood.

“How’s your head?”

“It hurts,” Dennis admitted, his eyes squinting against the sunlight, “but not as much as my arm.”

“Well, we’re going to get that arm splinted for you. Should help keep it stabilized, though I can’t promise it will make it hurt less.” Philip pulled his hands away from the boy, checking to ensure he remained upright. “I’m going to hunt up some wood to use for that splint, all right?”

“Yessir.”

The kid’s voice didn’t exactly brim with confidence, but he wasn’t weaving about like someone fixing to topple, so Philip chose to trust his word. A young man’s pride could be a powerful motivator, and Dennis struck him as a lad eager to prove his manhood.

“How old are you, Dennis?” Philip asked as he wandered along the creek bed behind them, searching for a pair of suitable sticks.

“I’ll be eleven in January.”

Philip grinned at the boy’s attempt to make himself seem older. He remembered what it was like to be in a hurry to grow up. Believing that being older would provide more control over one’s life. More freedom. Too bad all that freedom came with a heap of responsibility, disillusionment, and weariness. Philip was only twenty-seven, but even he longed for the carefree days of childhood on occasion. For the idealism and simplicity that used to mark his days.

“Almost eleven, huh?” Philip picked up a stick and bent it between his hands to test its strength. It snapped. He tossed it aside. “I remember being eleven. Couldn’t keep me away from the fishin’ hole in those days.” He picked up another stick. Kind of rough and not completely straight, but it passed the bend test without breaking. He tucked it under his arm. “You fish?”

“Some. I like huntin’ better. Pa said he’d buy me my own gun when I turn twelve.”

“Did he? That’s a big deal.”

Philip spied a fallen branch that had likely gotten swept downstream the last time they had a big rain. It stretched across the narrow creek. He jogged over to it and used his boot to snap off a nice straight limb. Dropping his previous find, he tested the sturdiness of the new piece. Just green enough to keep from snapping under normal pressure but dry enough that he could break the thinner end with his boot if he put his weight into it. He broke off two pieces, each about a foot long, cleaned off the excess twigs and dried leaves, then jogged back to Dennis and measured them against the boy’s arm. Not perfect, but they’d do.

“What’s the biggest game you ever brought down?” Philip asked, hoping to keep the boy distracted.

He opened his medical satchel and pulled out a roll of bandages.

“A deer.” Dennis winced and hissed in a breath when Philip stretched the broken arm away from the boy’s body to apply the splint.

“Wow. I didn’t get my first deer until I was twelve. I’m impressed.”

He prodded Dennis for more details as he tied the splint pieces in place. The kid obliged, though most of his answers were short and clipped due to the pain. Once Philip had the splint secured, he wrapped the entire appendage in a second bandage, then tied off the end.

“All right, Dennis. Let’s stand up. I want to wrap your ribs before we start our climb.”

Dennis gave a dubious glance toward the rope hanging down into the ravine. “I, uh, don’t think I’m going to be able to make that climb, mister.”

Philip smiled. “Not to worry, kid. I’m going to do all the climbing. All you gotta do is ride along.” He motioned for Dennis to hold up his shirt with his good arm, then wrapped his ribs nice and tight. “Your pa ever give you a piggyback ride?”

“Yessir.”

“We’re going to do the same. Only I’m going to use this blanket as sort of a sling to help you stay on, since you only have one good arm at the moment.”

Philip used his knife to slit the corners of the blanket to make it easier to tie strong knots. He tied the bottom corners together around his waist, then flipped the top portion over one shoulder and wrapped the edges around his hand to keep the blanket in place. The sling flopped loosely behind him. He and Dennis walked as far as they could toward the waiting rope, then stopped so Dennis could climb into the sling.

Hunkering down low, Philip used the ravine wall to steady himself as Dennis ducked inside the blanket and wrapped his good arm around Philip’s neck. When the boy’s legs tightened around his waist, Philip pushed to a standing position.

“Hold tight with those legs, all right?” Philip separated the top blanket corners, pulled the excess fabric taut over Dennis’s back, then tied the edges together. He slipped his right arm through the hole to keep the sling from choking him if Dennis lost his grip. “This should make it easier for you to hold on, but the more you help, the easier it will be for me to climb.”

“I’ll hold on, mister. Don’t you worry.”

Philip grinned. Sounded like Dennis wasn’t too sure about the sling idea. Philip didn’t blame him. The thing was far from comfortable and probably looked ridiculous. Nevertheless, he felt better having the extra security, and maybe it would help keep him from jostling Dennis too badly. That arm of his needed all the stability they could wrangle.

“All right. Here we go.” Philip leaned forward and picked his way up the slope until he reached the rope.

Hand over hand, he climbed, taking extra care to plant each foot, all too aware of the splint prodding his back and the damage a fall could wreak. The steeper the wall became, though, the harder it was to find a proper foothold. His arms burned. His breath heaved. And sweat rolled down his face.

Three-quarters of the way up, the slope turned into a vertical wall. Philip dug his pointed boot toes into the side of the ravine and coiled the rope around his left arm while he shook out the muscles on his right. He blew out a huff of air as he gauged the distance to the top. Not that far. Maybe eight feet. Yet those eight feet seemed to stretch into the heavens, with nothing but his worn-out arms to get them there.

Give me strength, Lord. I don’ t think I can make it on my own.

His eyes slid closed for a moment, then popped open when a dusting of dirt hit his face. He jerked his head back, tightening his grip on the rope with his left hand while he reached for his knife with his right. But Dennis’s legs were in the way, blocking his access to his belt.

“You all right, mister?” The kid’s muffled question vibrated through him.

No, he wasn’t all right. His arms were about to give out, and there was a snake slithering down the side of the ravine, not three feet from his head.

Philip blinked. Scrunched his forehead. Was it a snake?

“Keep it coming, Calvin.” Letty’s head appeared as she leaned over the ledge. Her gaze found Philip’s. “I fashioned a stirrup. Slip it over your boot, and Steele will pull you the rest of the way.”

The snake drew closer, its head twisting to reveal a hollow loop. She’d torn the other blanket into strips and made a rope. Seemed the Good Book was right about the Lord knowing what you needed before you asked.

“Everything’s fine, Dennis,” Philip assured him. “We’re almost to the top.”

Philip waved to Letty to let her know he’d heard her instructions, then waited for the rope to come within reach. Once he had it in hand, he shifted his weight to the left and slipped the loop over his right boot.

“Got it!” He fit the wool strip alongside the rope so he could hold on to both at once. “Take it slow.”

Letty’s head disappeared, and a moment later, he felt a tug on his boot as Steele took up the slack and began pulling Philip’s weight. He used his left foot as a brace against the ravine wall to keep them from twisting as they rose.

In no time, they reached the top, Steele dragging Philip over the ledge until his chest scraped rock. He heard Letty call “Whoa!” somewhere in the distance, but he focused on pulling his hips and legs onto the safety of flat ground and getting Dennis away from the chasm.

“Dennis!” Calvin ran up to them and helped free his brother from the sling.

Philip felt the grip around his midsection loosen as Dennis relaxed his legs and slid free to stand on his own. Something Philip would do just as soon as he found the strength.

Then a pair of delicate, yet surprisingly strong, hands came to his aid, lifting him up and helping him stand.

“Are you all right?” she murmured close to his ear.

He stretched his arm over her shoulders—merely for support, he told himself, not because she was an amazing woman who’d just rescued him with an impressive show of ingenuity.

“I am now.” He twisted to meet her gaze. “Thank you.”

Her lashes dipped over her eyes. “You and Steele did all the hard work. I just tore up a blanket.”

“Had I known you were the great butcherer of bedrolls, I would have stocked up on extra linens before we left.”

A chuckle burst from her, lifting her lashes to reveal hazel eyes alive with amusement. His chest expanded at the sight. The woman was beautiful when she laughed.

A warmth that felt an awful lot like admiration spread across his chest and out into the arm currently draped over her shoulder. The temptation to caress the side of her face came upon him with such strength, his arm twitched. Deciding he better walk under his own power from this point on, he dropped his arm from her shoulders and took a step away from her.

“Guess we better see these boys home.”

She looked at him curiously, as if trying to decipher his behavior. He couldn’t decide if he wanted her to be successful in that particular quest or not. The moment passed, though, and her gaze drifted from him to settle on the boys standing a few feet away. “Yes, I suppose we should.”