She stared at the closed door, then allowed her gaze to move slowly down the corridor again. This time something at the far end of the passageway drew her attention. A man sat in the shadows outside a room, a gun heavy in a holster at his left hip, a badge reflecting the light of a lamp in it. It was a lawman.
Curiosity getting the best of Lauralee, she walked slowly toward the man. She couldn’t help but wonder if a criminal was locked up in this room. If so, what sort of crime had he committed?
From outward appearances Mattoon did not seem to be the kind of city that would allow criminals to run loose. It looked like a beautifully clean and respectable place.
But she also knew that the railroads had caused many saloons to be built in the city, which in turn attracted all sorts of men. Even criminals.
Lauralee tiptoed up to the lawman. When he gave her a hard look, his eyes squinting up at her, a shiver soared through her.
Yet she refused to be intimidated.
“Sir, it seems that you are perhaps guarding someone in that room,” she said stiffly. “Is it a hardened criminal? What might he have done?”
“His biggest mistake was comin’ to Mattoon,” the lawman said. He scooted his chair back as he stood up, towering over Lauralee with his six-foot-four height. “I killed the likes of him in the war. Damn shame I’ve been given orders to protect him now from someone like me who’d like to see him hangin’ from a noose.”
Lauralee paled and placed a hand to her throat. She knew that his lawman had fought for the Union. The one he was guarding had to have been a Rebel. Panic grabbed her insides. She was keenly aware of one man in particular who was from the South and had just recently come to Mattoon, enemy territory in his mind, heart, and soul.
“Sir, are you saying that this man you are guarding is not a criminal?” she asked, her heart pounding, afraid to hear the answer.
“Naw, not exactly,” he said, raking his long, lean fingers through his shoulder-length brassy-colored hair. “Just got himself into a bit of trouble. If he’d stayed south, he’d not be fightin’ for his life. As it is, he escorted some dumb broad from Saint Louis to Mattoon and got himself into a peck of trouble ’cause of it.”
Lauralee felt faint. She grabbed for the wall, to steady herself. She looked wild-eyed up at the lawman. “Is by chance that man Cherokee?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“How’d you guess that?” the lawman said, idly scratching his brow.
“Because, sir, I have a feeling that I am that dumb broad from Saint Louis who you so callously referred to,” Lauralee said, her voice trembling.
She shoved past him and opened the door. She then died a slow death inside when her gaze sought and found Dancing Cloud lying still on the bed, a sheet drawn up to his waist, his chest totally bandaged.
“Ma’am, you ain’t s’posed to be in here,” the lawman said as he stepped up to Lauralee and grabbed her by an elbow. “Come on, ma’am. I’ve been given strict orders not to let this Injun be disturbed.”
Lauralee wrenched herself free. She turned and glared icily up at the lawman. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” she said, her voice tight with anger. “I am that woman who was escorted to Mattoon by this man. Don’t you dare lay a hand on me again. I’m staying with Dancing Cloud.”
“Dancing Cloud?” the lawman said, peering over at him. “So that’s what his Indian name is.” He shrugged. “I was told that his name was Joe. Should’ve known that an Injun would have to have an Injun name.”
Lauralee gave the lawman a shove. “Get out of here,” she cried. “Take your insults with you.”
The lawman shrugged and turned to leave, then Lauralee rushed to him and grabbed his arm. “Who did this to Dancing Cloud?” she asked, pleading up at him as he turned cold, angry eyes down at her. “Who brought him to the hospital?”
“Noah Brown found him on his land,” the lawman said, resting a hand on his holstered pistol. “Seems someone who still carries the same grudge as me against Rebels took a shot at ’im.” He smiled slowly and smugly. “I doubt this rebel Injun’s goin’ to ever see the light of day again. The shoulder wound was bad. Bad.”
Shivers of dread ran up and down Lauralee’s spine. Tears spread across her cheeks as she turned and gazed at Dancing Cloud. “No,” she whispered, a sob lodging in her throat. “He can’t die. He just can’t die.”
The lawman left and closed the door behind him. Lauralee went to Dancing Cloud’s bedside and searched beneath the sheet for one of his hands.
When she found the one that lay at his right side, the one closest to her, she slipped her fingers through his and stared down at him.
So beautifully sculpted, so beautifully bronzed, but yet so deeply unconscious! she thought to herself, sighing heavily.
Footsteps entering the room behind her caused her to flinch. She slipped her hand from Dancing Cloud’s and turned around, then realized that in her despair over Dancing Cloud’s condition, she had forgotten about Nancy. Abner was standing there, his eyes heavy, his face gaunt.
“How is she?” Lauralee asked, going to him. She splayed her fingers across his massive chest. “Please tell me that she’s going to be all right.”
“It was a slight heart attack,” Abner said, drawing her into his embrace, his eyes locked on Dancing Cloud. “She’ll be all right. But she’ll be delicate as a flower for the rest of her life, Lauralee. We’ll have to treat her thusly.”
“I’ll do everything I can for her,” Lauralee murmured, then slipped from his arms and followed his gaze as she again looked at Dancing Cloud.
“I only heard a moment ago about Joe Dancing Cloud,” Abner said, moving slowly toward the bed. “Lord, what’s this world coming to when a man can’t ride along the trail without being ambushed?”