The Outlaw's Return. Victoria Bylin

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      With the boy cradled in his arms, J.T. strode across the room where only moments ago Mary had stood with Adie. He lowered Augustus with a gentleness she remembered from Abilene, then he stepped back to make room for Bessie. As he tossed his hat on a chair, Fancy Girl walked to his side and sat.

      Bessie pulled up a chair and started her examination. Terrified, Mary hovered over her shoulder. Bruises on Augustus’s cheek promised a black eye, and he had a bloody nose and split lip. Her gaze dropped to his shirt. Red smears in the shape of knuckles testified to what had happened. Her brother had been beaten.

      She whirled to J.T. “Who did this?”

      “We’ll talk later,” he said in a low tone.

      She wanted answers now, but mostly she wanted her brother to wake up. She turned back to his limp body and saw Bessie taking his pulse. The nurse lowered his wrist, but her expression remained detached. “Get the smelling salts,” she ordered. “And water and clean towels.”

      “Will he be all right?” Mary asked.

      “I don’t know yet.”

      Her eyes darted to J.T. Adie and Caroline were outside, and she needed help. “Come with me.”

      He followed her down the hall, his steps heavy on the wood while hers clicked. She wanted to know why he’d been near Swan’s Nest, but she didn’t dare ask. Augustus had urgent needs, and she didn’t want to breathe a word of the past in front of anyone. In the kitchen she opened a cabinet with medical supplies and found the smelling salts. Next she filled a bowl with hot water and fetched clean towels from a shelf. J.T. lifted the bowl and carried it down the hall. Mary followed with the towels and smelling salts.

      Bessie uncorked the bottle of ammonia carbonate and held it under Augustus’s nose. She waved it once, twice. His nostrils flared, then his eyes popped open. Groaning, he rolled to the side and vomited. Bessie held a bowl under his chin and caught the mess. Mary saw streaks of blood and gasped. Was he bleeding inside? Were his ribs cracked? Bessie needed to know, so Mary turned again to J.T. “You’ve got to tell us what happened.”

      He shook his head.

      How dare he withhold information! She raised her voice. “I want to know who did this.”

      He put one finger to his lips. It had been an old signal between them, a warning to guard her mouth around people he didn’t trust. Considering the circumstances, it infuriated her. “Talk to me.”

      “I’ll explain later.” He looked disgusted with her. “The boy fought hard. Give him his pride.”

      Mary saw his point. Embarrassed by her outburst, she dipped a towel in the hot water. While Bessie checked for broken bones, Mary wiped the blood from her brother’s face and neck. When the nurse poked his ribs, he groaned.

      “Do you think they’re broken?” Mary asked.

      “I’d say they’re bruised.”

      Furious, Mary set the towel on the rim of the bowl and lifted a dry one. For her brother’s sake, she had to stay calm. Augustus was twelve years old, but his stammering made him seem younger. In her heart, he’d always be the baby brother she’d rocked to sleep in Frog’s Landing. Looking down, she smoothed his hair from his damp brow. “How are you feeling?”

      “I—I hurt.”

      His lips quivered with the need to say more, but he sealed them in frustration. If she pressured him, the stammer would get worse. She had no choice but to wait for Augustus to calm down or for J.T. to enlighten her. With her lips sealed, she watched as her brother craned his head to look at the man in the corner. What she saw on his bruised face could only be described as awe. She didn’t blame him a bit. It seemed that J.T. had come out of nowhere to help him. She didn’t know who had attacked her brother, but Augustus’s expression told her J.T. had stopped the beating. She owed the man her gratitude. She didn’t want to owe him anything, but he’d been good to Augustus.

      Bessie finished checking for broken bones then looked into Augustus’s eyes. She held up three fingers. “How many do you see?”

      The boy held up his hand to indicate three.

      “Good,” Bessie replied Mary thought of the red-streaked vomit. “I’m worried.” She indicated the bowl. “What about the blood?”

      “It’s from the nosebleed.”

      Fear drained from her muscles, leaving her limp. “So he’s going to be all right?”

      “I’d say so.” Bessie looked at Augustus. “You took quite a beating, young man. I think you fainted from shock. Your ribs are badly bruised, and you’re going to have a black eye. We’ll get ice for that in a minute. I’m also going to bind up your ribs.”

      “Th-th-thank—” He bit his lip.

      “You’re welcome,” Bessie replied. “You should stay in bed for a few days, then you can move around as much as you’re able.” The nurse patted his skinny shoulder, then left to fetch the wrapping for his ribs.

      Mary took Bessie’s place on the chair. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

      Her brother looked down at his feet. She’d never seen him look so defeated. Had he been bullied because of his speech? It seemed likely. He’d been teased about his stammering all his life, but people in Frog’s Landing had known him. In Denver, a city populated by strangers, he’d become an outcast.

      J.T. crossed the room. When he reached boy’s side, he offered his hand. “Hello, Augustus. We met, but you might not remember. I’m J. T. Quinn.”

      “I—I remember.”

      Augustus took the man’s hand and shook. Mary had never seen her brother do anything so grown up, or J.T. do anything so kind.

      Augustus tried to sit up, but J.T. nudged him flat. “Don’t torture those ribs. I’ve busted mine a couple of times. It hurts a lot.”

      The boy nodded vigorously.

      J.T. pulled a side chair from the wall and positioned it next to hers at an angle where Augustus could see him. He dropped down on the seat and hunkered forward. “We gotta talk, kid.”

      Figuring J.T. didn’t know about the stutter, Mary cringed for her brother. “He has trouble speaking.”

      “I know that.”

      “You don’t understand,” she continued. “He—”

      “He’s fine.” J.T. kept his eyes on Augustus. “All things considered, you handled yourself well.”

      In Mary’s experience, her brother turned into jelly when kids bullied him. She looked at J.T., then wished she hadn’t. They were side by side, so close she could smell the bay rum on his newly scraped jaw. When she’d seen him earlier, he’d been unshaven and reeking of whiskey and sweat. Now he looked presentable. More than presentable. Blinking, she recalled the man she’d met backstage in Abilene, the handsome stranger who’d pursued her with a look.

      J.T. met her СКАЧАТЬ