Chapter Twelve

The clank of handcuffsand the low murmur of the sheriff"s orders filtered through the air as Deborah rushed down the barn ladder, her skirts grasping at each stride. Her heart thrummed with urgency. "Tim! Amos! It"s Aaron—he"s hurt bad."

Tim looked up from where he stood, his hat shading eyes that had seen too much sorrow. "Lead the way, Deborah," he said, his voice steady despite the worry that creased his brow.

"Where is he?" Amos asked, adjusting his hat with a practiced tilt.

"Out by the north pasture," she replied, breathless.

Without another word, the men spurred their horses into action. Tim"s mount moved with purpose while Amos kept pace, riding alongside Deborah, who directed them with quick, sure gestures.

"David"s gone for the doc," Tim called over to Deborah, squinting against the sun.

"Good thinking," Deborah acknowledged, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

"Look there!" Amos pointed ahead, where a huddled shape lay near the fence line.

"Lord have mercy," whispered Tim under his breath as they dismounted.

Deborah"s hands were already reaching out, her fingers gentle yet efficient as she assessed Aaron"s condition. His face was etched in pain, yet the sight of friends brought a grimace that resembled a smile.

"Hey, big guy," Tim greeted Aaron, his usual stoicism giving way to concern. "We"re gonna get you fixed up."

"Much obliged," Aaron managed, his voice rough like gravel on the ranch road.

"Let"s get him home," Amos said.

Together, they lifted Aaron with care, mindful of his pained groans, and settled him onto Tim"s horse. Deborah mounted behind him, wrapping an arm around Aaron to steady him.

"Keep your head high, Aaron. You"re tougher than old boots," she murmured, her words intended to comfort even as her own heart raced with fear.

"Always am, Deb," Aaron replied, though his voice was faint.

"Let"s ride," said Tim, and the group turned back toward the house.

*****

THE SMELL OF SMOKEclung to the air as men hustled back and forth, carrying buckets of water from the trough. They doused the flames with swift, determined motions, their faces set in grim lines yet edged with the relief that the worst had passed. The fires, which had moments ago threatened to consume everything in their path, sputtered and died under the steady assault.

"Keep at it, boys," called out one of the ranch hands, his voice a rallying cry in the midst of the chaos. "These flames ain"t got nothin" on us!"

Meanwhile, Tim"s horse trotted up to the homestead, the journey back seeming much longer than the one out to Aaron. With every step, Deborah held tightly to Aaron, whispering words of encouragement that were for her benefit as much as his. Amos rode alongside, scanning the horizon as if his gaze could hasten the doctor"s arrival.

"Easy now," Tim soothed as they brought Aaron down and into the house. The coolness of the indoors was a stark contrast to the blazing heat outside.

In the kitchen, Deborah found a basin and filled it with water, her movements practiced and sure. She fetched a cloth and turned toward Aaron, who was propped up in a chair, his rugged face tightened in pain.

"Let me see that wound," she said gently, rolling up her sleeves.

"Deb, you don"t have to—" Aaron began but cut off with a wince as Deborah cut away the arm of his shirt and carefully cleaned away the dirt and blood.

"Quiet now, Aaron. You"ve done enough talking," Deborah chided softly, her touch light as she worked.

"Looks like we owe you again, Deborah," Amos remarked, standing by the doorway, his eyes reflecting the gratitude they all felt.

"None of that, Amos," she replied without looking up. "We take care of our own here."

"Can"t argue with that," Tim added, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes met Deborah"s, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile. "I feel bad that we were fooled by the fires and gunshots. We rode toward them, leaving Aaron to stand against the outsiders on his own. And after he was injured, you had to stand alone. Men are supposed to be the ones defending their women."

Deborah shook her head. "I was trickier than they were. That's all."

"It's a good thing. We were all surprised to follow the sound of the gunfire and find you holed up in that hayloft."

"I just did what Aaron taught me to do. I shot straight and hit what I aimed at."

Tim shook his head. "I think we're all impressed with the way you handled things. Now we need the doc to patch Aaron up and all will be well."

"Let"s just hope that doctor rides as fast as David claimed," Deborah said, finishing up with the wound. She covered it with a clean cloth, her fingers lingering for a moment on Aaron"s arm. "You stay with us, you hear?"

"Wouldn"t dream of leaving," Aaron murmured, managing a weak grin.

"Good," Deborah said, her voice firm but kind. "Because I"m not done fussing over you yet."

The doctor"s buggy clattered to a halt outside Deborah"s home. She stood on the porch, wringing her hands in anticipation. The door creaked open, and the doctor stepped out, his bag in hand.

"Show me to the patient," he said curtly, tipping his hat at Deborah.

"Right this way, Doctor," she replied, leading him inside.

Aaron lay still on the bed, a grimace etched across his face. The doctor knelt beside him, examining the wound with a critical eye. He shook his head slowly, tsking under his breath.

"Mrs. Tudor, I won"t sugarcoat it. This is going to be a tough one. Likely to get infected, being as ugly as it is," he remarked, glancing up at her.

Deborah swallowed hard, nodding. "Just tell me what to do, Doctor."

"Keep it clean, for starters. Change the dressing twice a day, and make sure he drinks plenty of water. If fever sets in, send someone for me straight away."

"I will, Doctor. Thank you."

As the doctor packed up his things, there were loud sounds outside. Brenda burst through the door, followed by Amy, Cassandra, Erna, Faith, Gail, Hannah, Imogene, and Jane, their faces flushed from the ride over.

"Deb! We came as soon as we heard," Brenda exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room. "How can we help?"

Deborah sighed in relief. "I"m sure glad to see all of you. The doctor just left, and Aaron needs careful watching."

"Then careful watching he shall have," Cassandra chimed in, her voice soft but determined.

"Let"s get to work, ladies," Brenda announced, rolling up her sleeves. "We"ve got a ranch to run and a man to mend."

"First things first," Erna interjected. "Who"s making soup? Aaron"s going to need his strength."

"Charlotte's working on that now," Deborah said, a small smile breaking through her worry. "That"s one less thing on my mind."

"Rest easy, Deb," Brenda reassured her. "Together, there"s nothing we can"t handle."

"Thank you, Brenda," Deborah said, feeling the weight on her shoulders lighten ever so slightly. "It means the world to me."

"Anytime, Deb," Brenda replied with a wink. "After all, what are sisters for?"

Deborah watched as the women dispersed, their skirts swishing against the wooden floorboards. "Amy, Hannah, could you two handle the milking?" she asked, her voice surprisingly steady given the churn of worry in her stomach.

"Course we can, Deb," Amy replied with a cheerful nod, already moving toward the door with Hannah close behind.

"Imogene, Jane, gather eggs, please. And keep an eye out for any stray ones the hens might"ve hidden," Deborah added, her blue eyes scanning the group for volunteers.

"Got it, Deb," said Jane, tipping an imaginary hat. Imogene just smiled and followed, her quiet demeanor a steady presence.

"Erna, Faith," Deborah continued, her gaze now landing on the remaining women, "would you mind searching for the ranch hands? We need to know how they fared."

"Consider them found. We'll take the wagon," Erna said with determination, Faith giving a small, encouraging nod.

The Texas sun hung heavy in the sky as Deborah watched her friends set about their tasks. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and returned to Aaron"s bedside. It wasn"t long before the women started returning, each one bearing news or goods in hand.

"Found them, Deb," Faith reported breathlessly as she and Erna returned, dust coating their dresses. "But it's not pretty—every last one of them is hurt. We got them all in the wagon, and we're helping them inside."

"Lord have mercy," Deborah murmured, her heart sinking. "We"ll need the doctor again."

"Already sent David to fetch him," Brenda assured her, patting Deborah"s shoulder with a calloused hand.

The doctor arrived, his bag of instruments clinking softly with each step. He went to work, examining each injured hand with a practiced eye. The men were stoic, their faces tight with pain but trying to remain strong in front of the women.

"Several will need to go to Fort Worth," the doctor said gravely after his assessments. "I fear they may not make it if they don"t get proper care."

"Then to Fort Worth they must go," Brenda stated, her voice brooking no argument. "We"ll see to it. We just have to get them back into the wagon. Which ones need to go to the hospital there?"

"Thank you all," Deborah said, feeling a wellspring of gratitude for these strong women.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ranch, the men gathered in the dimming light on the porch. Deborah stood with them, her hands folded in front of her dress, a smudge of dirt on her cheek that she hadn"t noticed. The men exchanged resolute nods, their faces set with determination.

"Look here," Amos began, his voice steady as he addressed the others. "Aaron"s laid up, and these lands won"t tend themselves. I think we can each take a day to fill in. We can all spare a ranch hand now and then to make up for all the ones injured."

"Right," Tim chimed in, tipping his hat back with a thumb. "I"m in for Thursdays."

One by one, the men declared their chosen days, pledging their time and effort to keep the ranch running. It was decided with the quiet strength that came from years of facing trials together. Deborah listened, her heart swelling with gratitude at their kindness.

"Deborah, you just focus on Aaron," said Amos, turning to her with a reassuring smile. "We"ll handle the rest."

"Thank you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but each man heard the depth of her thanks.

With a plan in place, the group dispersed, leaving Deborah alone on the porch. The last traces of daylight vanished, and the night air carried a hint of relief from the heat of the day.

Inside, the house was filled with the comforting aroma of chicken broth simmering on the stove. Charlotte moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, wooden spoon in hand. She glanced over her shoulder as Deborah entered, offering a tired but warm smile.

"Broth's almost ready," Charlotte said, stirring the pot gently. "It"ll help him if fever sets in."

"Let me," Deborah offered, taking the spoon. Charlotte nodded and stepped aside, watching as Deborah"s gentle hands took over the task. The rhythmic motion was soothing, almost meditative, and for a moment, Deborah allowed herself to get lost in it.

They carried a steaming bowl to Aaron"s bedside together. He lay there, a giant felled by injury, his breaths coming in uneven rasps. Despite his delirium, when Deborah touched his hand, he seemed to calm, the lines of pain softening around his eyes.

"Here, love," she whispered, bringing a spoonful of broth to his lips. "This will make you strong again."

Aaron managed a weak nod, sipping the liquid with a faint sigh of contentment. Deborah"s gaze lingered on his face, seeing beyond the fever to the kind-hearted man who she loved with everything inside her.

The room settled into a quiet rhythm: the tick of the clock, the whisper of the wind outside, the soft clinking of the spoon. Within the walls of the ranch house, there was warmth, there was care, and most importantly, there was hope.