***Happy Mother's Day if you're in America, the land of Hallmark holidays, and also a mother! Otherwise, happy Sunday I guess...
Thank you all for all your kind words and compliments and the time you take to read and just generally for being cool people. In spite of your generosity, I will continue to disparage my writing ability forever and ever. It is my secret superpower and grants me immunity from critique. Nobody can ever say something meaner than the things I say to myself. There is strength in this, I'm sure.
My apartment isn't so cold today. For those (one) of you who were wondering why it was so cold, I LOVE the cold and live in generally HOT climes. So when it is chilly at night I sleep with all my windows open in order to bask in the chill, and Friday night was much frigider than I anticipated and the temp in my apartment dropped below 50. So I suffered a bit, but my Siberian was very happy and full of frolic all day which is all that matters to me.
Here's another chapter. As usual, it is rubbish and not worth reading, but I appreciate you reading it anyway. Cheers!***
Melissa
Raised voices drew her from her bedroom down the stairs. The sound of her father yelling never caused her much alarm. He was a loud man and always had been, even before her mother died and he developed his poisonous edge. He was always hollering about something. It was the second voice that gave her pause.
"Just tell me where Melissa is, pa! We don't have time for this right now."
"Don't have time for what, Joshua? The truth? You brought this on my family and I won't have you in my home. Get out before I have you thrown out!"
"Oh, for the love of God. Just get out of my way... Melissa!"
"Here!" she yelled back, lifting the frayed edge of her skirt and grasping the rail as she hurried down the stairs. As she broke onto the first floor and rounded the corner, she saw her father standing in the parlor, hands on his hips. And in front of him... "Oh lord," she gasped, elbowing past her father, her hands flying as she tugged at her brother's blood-soaked jacket, searching for wounds. "Come sit down. What happened? How bad is it? How are you still--"
"I'm okay, Lis," he said firmly, taking hold of her wrists and holding her away. "I'm okay. But you need to run upstairs and get your kit. Brent is hurt."
She felt faint for a moment, as blood drained from her head. Josh's hands on her shoulders steadied her, and she met his eye. He gave her a reassuring smile. "He's going to be alright, but he needs your help. Go get your kit and get dressed to ride. He's at my place. I'll get your horse ready to go and I'll meet you in the barn."
"Okay," she nodded, backing away. "What... what happened? What tools will I need?"
"Bear," Josh said through his teeth, his eyes flicking to their father. "Slashes on his side and leg. No bites."
"Okay," she nodded harder, already running through a mental tally of the tools and medicines she might need. Sutures to sew the wounds. Carbolic acid to disinfect. Sterile bandages. Something to dull the pain and help him rest. She had a small bottle of laudanum left. That would do.
Leaving Josh to their father's mercies, she dashed upstairs and hurriedly through items into the worn doctors' bag Amelia had gotten her for Christmas two years ago. All the basics were already tucked away, but she added her little walnut box of medicines and the sewing kit she'd special ordered from out east with the curved needles. Once packed, she shrugged into her thick wool coat and tossed an extra dress and some underthings into a bag. If Brent was really hurt she'd probably have to stay by his side for a few days and she'd need clean clothes. It wasn't good to be filthy when tending to the sick.
Dressed and packed, she slung her bags over her shoulders and hurried down the stairs. The house was empty, which meant her father had followed Josh out to the barn. Probably to chastise him for letting Brent get hurt. Gritting her teeth and bracing herself for a fight, she left the house and trudged through the snow toward the barn. As expected, she found Josh leading her horse out, already fully saddled, while her father trailed behind him, spitting invective.
"I told you!" he was yelling as she entered the barn. "I told you what would happen if you didn't give that woman over! God is punishing us for your sins, Joshua!"
Her brother had an endless and annoying amount of patience for the man, so she was taken aback when he whirled around so fast the old man stumbled back. "God isn't punishing us for anything," he snarled. "It was an accident. You can saddle your horse up and come with us, or you can keep berating me. I don't give a damn what you choose. Melissa and I are leaving." His eyes darted to her and he nodded toward the horse. Copper stood nearby, and she swallowed hard at the streaks of dried blood that stained the saddle and the animal's sides.
Mute, she nodded and rushed to her horse, strapping her bags behind the saddle as Josh went to Copper. They led their horses out into the snow, leaving their father standing in the barn, breathing hard and splotchy with rage. Melissa launched herself smoothly into the saddle, frowning when her brother mounted with considerably less grace than the usual.
"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked, frowning at him. He offered her a tightlipped smile and a shallow nod before jerking his head in the direction of his home.
"Let's get going."
Once they had put some distance between themselves and the house, she drew even with her brother. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked gently. Something about the way his shoulders slumped made her feel bad for prodding at him, but she needed to know what she was walking into.
"We were riding the fence line," he said, straightening his shoulders with a wince. "Rode straight into a grizzly. We we were talking pretty loud so I don't know why she didn't hear us coming and leave. Maybe she had cubs..." he trailed off, his shoulders slumping once more, and she leaned over in the saddle and prodded at him.
"You okay?"
Straightening once more, he flashed her a weak grin. "I'm good, 'Lis. Stop pestering."
"So what happened next?"
He shrugged one shoulder, shaking his head. "Saw her. Brent made a run for it."
Melissa groaned and shook her head. "He should know better."
Another shrug. "The bear took off after him. Took down the horse. Brent curled up pretty good to protect himself but she got a couple good swipes in before I shot her. The horse was done for. I put it down, got Brent up on Copper, and took him to my place. Amelia helped get the bleeding under control. We've got him under blankets by the fire to keep him warm."
"That's it?"
He frowned at her. "You want more? Mountain lion attack, maybe? Rattlesnake?"
She laughed lightly and shook her head. "No, you idiot. That's all it took to kill her? One bullet from your pistol and she just went down?"
He grimaced, shifting in the saddle and raising a hand to the pistol at his hip. "Couple more than that."
"Mmhm," she hummed. "And you're sure you're okay? Because that's a lot of blood you're wearing, brother."
"It's Brent's."
"All of it?"
"Just drop it, 'Lis. I said I'm fine, didn't I?"
"Well sure, but you're a rotten liar. I'll drop it, but only if you promise to let me take a look at you when we get to the house."
"After Brent," he growled, so low she barely heard it.
"After Brent," she sighed, casting her gaze skyward for patience.
* * *
After Brent was going to be a bit longer than she'd originally thought, Melissa realized as she pulled back the quilts and the makeshift bandages and saw the extent of her brother's injuries. Three ugly gashes split open the skin on his sides, so deep she saw the shiny glint of his ribs where the deepest cut curved around his side. His leg was little better, sporting three gouges above his knee that would leave with a limp... if he was lucky. All of the wounds still bled sluggishly, seeping into the messy linens.
"I'm going to need boiled water," she told Amelia, who hovered on Brent's far side. "Every clean cloth you've got. Oh, and garlic, and do you have any of that witch hazel left? Okay, good. That should help on the shallow scrapes. Let's heat some broth, too. He needs to replenish the blood he's lost."
Nodding urgently, Amelia darted away to do her bidding. Josh stayed. He'd left his boots in the entryway but still wore his blood- and snow-crusted jacket.
"Go change," she ordered, glaring up at him. When he opened his mouth she cut him off with a stern look. "You're filthy, and my goal here is to keep these injuries clean. I can't do that with you sitting there dripping bear blood on him. Go clean up and change, and then you can help."
With a scowl, he shoved clumsily to his feet and stalked away. Amelia returned, and they worked together to remove the bandages from Brent's midsection and clean the blood away from the gory mess beneath. He moaned as they worked, his limbs thrashing weakly. At Melissa's instruction, Amelia lifted his head and tipped a mug of lukewarm, heavily-sugared tea into his mouth. He swallowed, his eyes fluttering with a heavy groan.
"Relax," Amelia soothed, her voice that tender croon she used when she was comforting her daughter. She stroked the sweat-soaked hair from his brow in a motherly gesture. "You're going to be alright. I know it hurts but we're going to help you. Just be still."
Brent's eyes drifted open and Melissa could see the struggle to focus as he blinked sluggishly at Amelia's face. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile and his fingers twitched against the blankets. "Amelia," he breathed, his eyes drifting shut.
"It's me," she said, still stroking his hair. "Would you like to drink some more tea? It'll make you feel better."
He groaned in a vague affirmative, and she lifted his head once more, holding the mug to his lips. He swallowed a few more mouthfuls before turning his face away. When Amelia looked up and met Melissa's eyes her gaze was wide and scared.
"Is he going to die?" she asked.
"No," Melissa said, although the ugly wounds were some of the worst she'd seen. "He's strong, and I'm smart. Josh got him to help quickly, and you've done a good job stemming the bleeding and keeping him warm. His odds are better than most."
Amelia nodded absently, still stroking his hair. Footsteps approached, and Amelia's hand jerked back as if she'd been burned. Melissa looked up to see her brother looming in the doorway, and if the hurt in his expression was any indication, Amelia hadn't removed her hand quite fast enough.
"Josh--"
"How's he doing?" he cut Amelia off, his voice dull as he closed the distance and dropped to his knees by Melissa.
"He'll be alright," she lied again. "I need to clean these wounds before I stitch them, though. The flesh is pretty torn up. If I don't clean up the edges these torn bits will die and it'll be more likely to fester."
Josh and Amelia's faces both twisted into twin grimaces, and Melissa forced a confident smile. "I've got some laudanum in my bag that should take the edge off the experience for him. But you'll both have to help me hold him down.
Josh nodded absently and Amelia pushed to her feet, eyes downcast. "I need to check on the water," she said, hurrying away.
"Are you alright for a few more minutes?" Josh asked. "I'd like to check on Reb. I... I scared her a bit when I brought him here and I want to make sure she's alright."
"Sure, sure." Melissa waved him away. As he left, she poured a measured dollop of the laudanum into the abandoned cup of tea and raised Brent's head, coaxing the liquid down his throat. She'd keep prodding at him, testing his reactions to the pain until she knew the drug had taken hold. Then she would begin cleaning up the edges of the ugly wounds. Even with the drug, and with his weakness, it would likely be a harrowing affair. She wished that order of chloroform had come in so she could knock him out properly.
She was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of the front door creaking open and then slamming shut. Then her father's voice, tight and impatient. "Put that gun down, girl. Where's my son?"
Seconds later, her father appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, Amelia hovering behind him with a rifle in her hand and a scowl on her face.
"Oh, God," her father moaned, hurrying forward and sinking to his knees. He framed Brent's clammy face with his hands. "Brent, wake up. Wake up, son."
"Pa, stop," Melissa urged, pushing his hands away. "He's resting. He'll be alright but you can't be jostling him."
More footsteps, and Josh appeared beside Amelia in the doorway, leaning hard against the doorjamb. "He'll be alright, pa. Just let Melissa--" '
"Don't you dare speak to me," the old man snarled, shooting to his feet.
"Please keep your voice down, Mr. Tucker," Amelia said, her eyes wide as Josh stood straight and edged between her and the angry older man. "Reb's in the back room having a nap. We don't want to wake her."
Her father growled but lowered his volume to a toxic hiss. "You did this," he said between his teeth, redirecting his gaze to Josh. "I told you what would happen. You brought this upon us."
"Pa, not right now. Let's just take care of Brent."
The old man seethed, and Melissa could see livid red fury creeping up the back of his neck. He didn't back down, but stepped forward. The couple in the doorway stood firm, although Amelia's face had grown pink with anger and Josh's had grown yet another shade paler.
"Don't pretend you're the hero here, Joshua," the man growled. "You're a selfish coward, and you always have been. I told you what this marriage," he said the word with a sneer, gesturing flippantly at Amelia, "would cost us and you didn't care. You let this happen because you're too selfish to see what's right in front of you. This family doesn't belong to you."
"Mr Tucker!" Amelia exclaimed, trying to push Josh aside, but he tossed an arm out and held her in place. She shook her head in defeat. "Brent is hurt. Your son is hurt. He needs our help. We don't have time for this."
It wasn't the stabbing condemnation Melissa would have expected from Amelia, but it was at least effective. Her father slumped, casting one final glare at Josh before spinning on his heel and returning to Melissa's side. "Tell me what I can do to help," he murmured, and Melissa suddenly felt very tired.
* * *
Melissa sank into a fugue of disconnected concentration as she treated the ugly claw marks. The man before her wasn't her baby brother. He was just a series of body parts that needed fixing. She cast orders with the same confidence her father displayed in the office and her brother displayed on the ranch. "Hold his arms... boil more water... hold that here... press down hard..." And the bodies around her obeyed her commands without question. With their help, she carved away the dying flesh from the edges of the wounds, sluiced away the dirt and shredded clothing from the recesses of the deeper lacerations, washed all the broken skin thoroughly, and then rinsed the bloody gashes with alcohol which made Brent scream and arch up off the floor. After the alcohol, she stitched the deepest wounds closed, dabbed carbolic acid all around the edges of the broken skin and then covered the injuries with clean clothes and bound them tight.
By the time she finished, Melissa's dress was soaked with sweat and her back ached from her bent-over position. Amelia knelt across from her, and her friend's hair was equally sweat-matted, clinging to her flushed face. The men, who had chiefly been employed in keeping their patient still, were equally breathless. Brent moaned and shivered beneath the mussed blankets, in spite of the nearby fire.
"We need to let him rest," Melissa said, swiping at her hair with the back of her hand. "And get him warm."
"He needs a bed," her father said, sitting back on his haunches and casting a challenging glare at Josh.
"He would rest better in a bed," she agreed reluctantly, glancing at Amelia. Her friend frowned and shrugged, and when she looked apologetically at Josh he was already shoving to his feet.
"Let's get it done," he grumbled. "Ames you wanna go fix the bed? I'll get some wood for the fire."
Shoulders slumped, Amelia nodded silently and padded away, leaving Melissa alone with her father and Brent's unconscious form. Together, they began to separate the soiled blankets from the clean, shifting Brent's body onto one of the cleaner wool blankets to carry him, and covering him with a quilt. He shivered relentlessly, and Melissa tucked the edges in around his form, mustering up her courage.
"This was an accident, pa," she finally said, her voice weak and wobbly in her ears. Where had that strong girl gone, who had barked orders like a general in battle? "Josh didn't mean for it to happen."
Her father scoffed, his anger belied by his tender touch as he picked up Brent's hand and gently chafed the waxy fingers. "Don't start with me, Melissa. You don't understand."
"I understand." She measured her words out, sitting back on her heels and rubbing her palms on her filthy skirt. "You think this is all to do with God or something, right? I've been living in your house my whole life, pa. I understand your beliefs. I just... I just think they're wrong-headed."
"Melissa," he growled warningly, but she was just so tired and so annoyed. Worried about Brent, and in a way even more worried about Josh and Amelia.
"Pa, please," she begged, reaching out and taking his hand, capturing his gaze with hers. "You know how much I care about all three of you. It's killing me watching this go on. Josh loves you. All he's ever done is try to look after this family and earn your forgiveness. I know what you think... I know you think there's some kind of curse or... or whatever it is. But surely you can see that he hasn't actually done anything wrong."
"Tell that to your mother, Melissa," the old man barked, jerking his hand from hers.
"Ma's death was an accident," she said, tears of exhausted frustration choking her. She just wanted this to be over. She was so tired of watching her family hurt itself for no good reason. "You know that as well as I do. Josh wasn't any more responsible than the rest of us. It was random chance that he was the one with her that day."
"He hid," he hissed between his teeth, his eyes sparking. "He hid while they killed her."
"She told him to hide," she urged, begging him to remember the truth. "She made him promise not to come out. And even if she hadn't, he was just a little kid. How long are you going to punish him for something that happened decades ago?"
"I'm not the one punishing him," he gritted out, but his voice had lost some of its edge. "It's God's will. I'm just trying to make it right."
"By tormenting your son, who didn't do anything wrong? Think about that, pa. You really think that makes sense? If that old reverend is right, you're the one who sinned. You and ma--"
"Melissa," he growled, and she knew she'd stepped over the line.
"You're punishing the wrong person," she said sadly, turning back to Brent. She wanted to say more, but Amelia and Josh had returned. The four of them carried him on the blanket to Amelia and Josh's bedroom and laid him on the bed. The fire was crackling merrily, banishing the icy chill of the dark night beyond the frosted windowpane.
Their father sank to the bed beside his son and held his hand. Melissa busied herself piling blankets over Brent's trembling form. Josh hovered by the door for a moment before excusing himself, saying something about the horses. Amelia lowered her face and hurried away, mumbling something equally noncommittal about Rebecca.
Once Brent was settled, Melissa left her father to sit vigil and found Amelia in the kitchen, Rebecca at her side as she hurried about, fixing food. It was past dark and they had all skipped dinner. Melissa's stomach growled hungrily but she ignored it.
"Hey, Amelia?" she asked, smiling when the other woman startled and jerked around. Her face was gaunt and pale, her eyes shadowed and red.
"Do you need something?" she asked listlessly, reaching down to stroke her fingers through Rebecca's hair. The little girl was unusually quiet and clingy, hanging onto Amelia's skirts while she worked.
"I was just coming to offer a hand," Melissa said, forcing energy into her voice when she felt nothing but exhaustion. "I can start fixing supper if you wanted to go help Josh with the horses."
Amelia opened her mouth to argue, but Melissa raised her eyebrows in challenge. A tentative smile broke out on her friend's face and she nodded, lifting Rebecca into her arms and pressing a kiss to her cheek before passing her over. "You're going to stay with Aunt Mel for a while," she said, brushing gentle fingers over the little girl's rosy cheek. "I'll be right back and then me and papa will read to you. Whatever story you want, okay?"
Rebecca nodded silently before turning her face and burying it in Melissa's shoulder. Casting once last, grateful look in her direction, Amelia fled the house in a clumsy clatter and a rush of sharp winter air.
"Well, little one," Melissa said, shifting Reb onto her hip and surveying the kitchen. "We've got our work cut out for us here, haven't we?"