Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

C aleb urged the horse forward, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. There was a faint cloud of dust still lingering in the distance. The men behind them were persistent, perhaps driven by the desire for revenge since Caleb had taken down three of their own. He knew they also coveted the prize of capturing Jenny, which added urgency to his actions. There was a resolute coldness inside his chest, and he knew the only way for them to hurt her was to step over his dead body.

As they reached a steep fork in the trail, Caleb slowed the horse and dismounted, signaling Jenny to do the same.

“We need to cover our tracks,” he said, scanning the area for the best route to obscure their passage. “We need to set it so they cannot determine our path. That way, they might split their efforts, and whichever team catches up to us, if they do, we can take them down easier.”

Jenny quickly joined him, grabbing a handful of brushes. “Joshua taught me how to cover and read tracks,” she said, her voice steady despite the pressing danger.

Swift admiration rose in him, and he couldn’t help but think any of the ladies he knew back home would have already descended into hysteria or fainted away. “My grandfather taught me the same when I first arrived here.”

Together, they hurried to disguise the signs of their passage. Caleb walked their horses up the trail and set back leaves and twigs on the ground, hoping they would see the area as undisturbed.

They were almost done when Jenny’s low cry sounded. “Rattler!”

Before Caleb could react, he felt a sharp pain as fangs sank into his upper thigh. He hissed, the sudden shock freezing him for a moment. Jenny didn’t hesitate—her gun was already in her hand, and with a smooth motion, she shot the snake dead.

Tears streamed down her face as she rushed to examine his wound, but Caleb pushed her hands away.

“No, we need to keep moving. That is what matters now,” he said, though the pain was starting to cloud his vision. The dust cloud was closer now, a grim reminder of the danger nipping at their heels. “Look behind you. They are getting closer, and we cannot afford any more delays.”

“But Caleb—” Jenny protested, her voice thick with fear.

“We need to go now.” Caleb’s tone left no room for argument.

Despite her protests, he helped her back onto the horse, and they set off again. The pain in his thigh was searing, his vision blurring more with each passing moment, but the drive to protect Jenny kept him conscious. Caleb pushed his stallion harder, the edges of his vision darkening, but the terror in Jenny’s voice when she first screamed his name echoed in his mind, fueling him to keep going.

Finally, they reached his brother’s cabin. The moment they dismounted, Caleb’s strength gave out. The world tipped sideways, and he collapsed, the ground rushing to meet him. The last thing he heard over the pounding in his ears was Jenny’s cry of alarm, her voice filled with fear and desperation as darkness claimed him.

Jenny struggled to support Caleb’s weight as she half-carried and half-dragged him up the small steps to the cabin. He had regained enough consciousness to assist slightly, slipping an arm around her shoulders while she bore the bulk of his body against her. His voice was barely a whisper, strained and faint, while sweat beaded on his forehead, a testament to his pain and the effort it took to remain even partly alert.

She had counted the seconds since he got bitten, and surely fifteen minutes had passed. Jenny’s heart pounded with fear—she knew too well the deadly stakes of a rattler’s bite, having heard tales of men who weren’t fortunate enough to survive. She kept in mind that many also survived. Her emotions were a tangled mess of fear and tears, but a fierce determination steeled her resolve.

“You are not going to die, Caleb,” she whispered fiercely under her breath, her voice a mix of a promise and a prayer. “Do not leave me, please.”

She managed to get him into the cabin, which was tidy but uninhabited for some time, judging by the dust motes dancing in the slanting beams of receding sunlight. The cabin only had a single bed and two wooden chairs with a table. A small fireplace graced one corner with a huge bearskin rug. The furniture was simple, robust and masculine. There was no pretense here, only the essentials for living and a few comforts that spoke of a man accustomed to both the wilds and the need for a practical but comfortable space.

Caleb collapsed onto the bed, his body limp and his face ashen. A groan of pain was pushed from between gritted teeth, and his gaze was narrowed. More sweat poured from his body, and she shoved the single window open, allowing cool air inside the cabin.

With no time to lose, Jenny sprang into action. The cabin, fortunately, was well-stocked. She rushed to the earthen stove, lit the wood beneath it, and set a kettle to boil. Moving quickly back to Caleb, she carefully removed his boots and loosened his pants to inspect the bite. The site was swollen, the skin around it a deep, angry purple, oozing blood slowly.

Her next steps were critical. Jenny grabbed a blade from the kitchen and heated it in the fire until it glowed. She quickly searched the small cupboard, sobbing her relief when she found a flask with whisky. She doused her blade in brandy to sterilize it. Returning to Caleb’s side, she took a deep breath to steady her shaking hands. With utmost care, she made a small incision over each puncture mark to encourage the blood to flow, hoping to draw out some of the venom.

Then, with grim determination, Jenny bent down and began to suck at the wound, spitting the blood and venom through the small side window. She repeated the process several times, each moment filled with the terrifying uncertainty of whether she was too late. Yet, she continued, driven by the desperate hope that her actions might save him.

Jenny dashed outside, her eyes scanning the ground frantically for the herb known locally as rattlesnake weed, reputed for its medicinal properties against snake bites. Her heart was racing, each second stretching unbearably long. Finally, she spotted the familiar green leaves and small, bright flowers near a cluster of rocks. Relief washed over her in sobs as she hastily gathered as much of the plant as possible.

Rushing back inside, Jenny set to work. She placed the rattlesnake weed in a small pot and crushed it vigorously to release its healing juices. Knowing time was of the essence, she removed her shirt and tore off a sizeable piece of fabric to create a poultice. She spread the crushed weed over the fabric, its pungent aroma filling the air.

Carefully, she applied the poultice to Caleb’s swollen, discolored thigh, pressing it gently but firmly against the wound. She then tore more strips from her shirt and wrapped them around his thigh, securing the poultice in place. Her hands were steady, driven by a focus born of desperation.

Jenny realized she needed to clean his sweat-drenched body. She fetched a bucket and hurried to the spring behind the cabin. With a full bucket, she returned and found a clean washcloth in the cupboard. Gently, Jenny wiped down Caleb’s forehead, neck, and arms, trying to cool him and cleanse the sweat that had accumulated from his ordeal. Each pass of the cloth was careful and deliberate, her movements tender as she worked to soothe him in any small way she could.

The cabin was filled with the sound of her soft, reassuring whispers, “You will be well, Caleb. Rest and heal. I am here, and I swear if those men make it here, I will not allow them to harm you or me.”

She boiled some of the rattlesnake weed to make a medicinal tea. Once it was ready, she soaked another piece of her shirt in the warm liquid, gently parted his lips with her finger and squeezed the soaked cloth, allowing the healing liquid to drip into his mouth. She repeated this process for a few minutes, watching intently for improvement. Gradually, Caleb’s breathing shifted from labored and uneven to the steady rhythm of deep sleep.

With Caleb stable, Jenny stepped outside to take care of the horse that had carried them so faithfully. She led the animal to the small barn at the back of the cabin. As she secured the horse, thunder rumbled overhead. She looked upward, noting the lowering of the sun and the sky painted in the deep vermillion hue of sunset. Against the pale evening sky, the trees etched themselves in sharp silhouettes.

A light rain started to fall, and more thunder rumbled ominously overhead. Relief scythed through her. The rain would help cover their tracks, washing away any signs of their escape and making it harder for the pursuers to track them. Despite this small mercy from nature, the threat of the gang finding them was still very real. She climbed a small incline behind the cabin to scan the distant horizon for any movement. Standing there, Jenny became acutely aware of her shirt, tattered from making poultices and bandages, clung to her skin, soaked by the rain. It barely offered any protection.

She hurried back inside the cabin. Caleb mentioned a Winchester. Given his brother’s absence, it might not be here, but she searched the cabin for any additional means of defense. Her efforts were rewarded when she discovered a Winchester rifle hidden beneath a small trap door. It was loaded. Another wave of relief washed over her as she hefted the familiar weight of the rifle in her hands. She placed it on the small rustic table near the window, where she could easily reach it. Settling into a chair, she kept watch over the sleeping Caleb and the rain-drenched landscape outside, ready to defend their refuge against any threat that might still be lurking out there.