Page 61 of The Enchanted Land

Morgan turned to see Mary’s angry face. “Don’t you realize that it might have been his own pa that killed your precious Seth?”

Morgan was calm, looking at the baby who had extended a chubby hand toward her golden braid. She smiled at him and he gurgled in delight as he caught the soft hair in his fingers. “White men killed my husband, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. Babies are innocent, no matter who their parents are.”

“Not when they’re Indians!” Furious, she turned on her heel and left Morgan and the baby.

“Don’t mind her.” It was Jessy. “She just can’t bear to look at another kid since hers is gone. Now me, that’s somethin’ I hope I never have.” She looked with contempt at the child in Morgan’s arms, happily putting her braid in his ever-open mouth. “Either they’re squalling or their other end needs attention.” She cocked her head and stared at Morgan. “I reckon you’d like one though. Maybe you’re carryin’ one now?”

Morgan’s head jerked up. The thought of Seth’s baby made her body glow. Her face lit up. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’d like that. I’d like very much to have a baby… Seth’s baby.”

Jessy went back to the wickiup, and Morgan stayed with the baby. Morgan had hope now, and as the days passed, she began to pray fervently that she was really carrying a child and that, if she were, it would survive the trip.

Chapter Twelve

JAKEhad been riding for three days when he first saw the circle of buzzards. He removed his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, and spurred his tired horse forward. At the bottom of the arroyo he saw the ruin and next to it a large dark form. He shot at the birds, scattering them. Something inside of him knew it was Seth there, lying so still, the hot New Mexico sun beating down on him. He was unaware of the tears that began to roll down his cheeks. He had one goal, and even his blurring vision couldn’t keep him from it.

Seth was on his stomach, blood forming a halo around his head and across his shoulders. Carefully, Jake turned the big man over, cradling his head in his arms. His sobs were louder now and he rubbed his sleeve across his nose.

“Seth, boy. You hear me? It’s Jake. I come to take you home.”

It seemed an hour before Jake could still his own heart’s frantic beating long enough to listen for Seth’s. When he felt a slight pulse, he raised his tear-filled eyes skyward and offered a prayer of thanks.

He lay the wounded man’s head down on the ground and went to his horse for his canteen. Slowly, he poured a few drops of water onto Seth’s parched, cracked lips. Seth rolled his head and groaned.

“Just be still now, boy. You’ll be all right. Drink slow, now.”

“Morgan.” Seth’s voice was a harsh whisper and his breathing was ragged.

“Don’t talk none. Just let ol’ Jake take care of you. Like I done since you was a little boy.”

Jake wet his handkerchief and began to wipe Seth’s face. There was no way at first to tell the extent of his wounds, because his entire body from the waist up was covered with patches of dried blood. Jake used nearly all the water he had in his two canteens cleaning the nasty wound on the side of Seth’s head.

“Got to get you home now, so’s we can take care of you.” The older man smiled down at Seth’s enormous body. “You always was too big for your own good. Now I bet you wish you was just ordinary size, something ol’ Jake could handle.”

Jake used his sleeve to wipe his tears. “Got me bawlin’ like a baby. Always did care too much for you.” Jake looked around at the scrawny trees on the side of the arroyo, judging them for size. He stroked Seth’s forehead. He was flushed, showing signs of fever. “We’re gonna get you out of here Injun-style.”

The knowledge that Seth was still alive gave Jake new energy, even after the three long days in the saddle. Slowly, carefully, he fashioned a travois from two young trees and strips of blanket from his bedroll. It took several hours, because he needed to make it strong enough to carry Seth’s enormous body without any mishap.

His horse was tired and protested loudly when Jake fastened the travois to the saddle. The sun was just setting, turning the horizon red and orange. Jake knew he and his horse should rest, but if he waited until morning, it would mean traveling under the hot sun.

It took all of Jake’s strength to get Seth onto the travois. Seth made no sound, hardly even opened his eyes, yet Jake could see the pain on his face as he tried to move. He was still semiconscious, and Jake knew Seth was using all the strength he had to control the pain. His shoulder wound reopened and began to bleed again. The ugly wound on the side of his head was puffy and looked as if it might be infected.

“That’s good, boy. The hard part’s over. Now we’re going to take it real slow and get you home.”

They traveled all night. Jake led the horse most of the time rather than riding it. That way he could see more clearly and lead the tired horse around rough spots and mesquite bushes. Jake stopped often and bathed Seth’s face with cool water. Seth seemed to realize that he was being taken care of. He began to relax and let the pain take over.

The fever increased and he began to lose consciousness. He mumbled Morgan’s name over and over.

“We’ll find the little girl. Just as soon as we get back to the ranch, we’ll find her for you. She’s probably there now, worried sick about you.”

When the sun began to rise, Jake started to look for a place to spend the hot part of the day. He didn’t dare travel with Seth exposed to the sun.

He found a muddy-bottomed arroyo, and after digging a hole about two feet deep, he had enough water to bathe Seth’s wounds. Under the shade of an old piñon tree, he cut away Seth’s shirt and began to examine the wound. The bullet had gone through, making a large but clean hole.

For the first time since he had found Seth, his joy at finding him alive began to turn to anger. “Why would anyone want to hurt my boy?” Seth’s breath whistled through his clenched teeth.

“I’ll kill whoever did this. Shot a man and then left him to die in his own blood. They didn’t even make sure he was dead, just left him to rot in the sun. A man wouldn’t even treat a dog like that.”

As he pulled Seth to one side to cut away the rest of his shirt, Seth’s face blanched, and Jake saw the pain in his glazed eyes. Carefully, Jake felt along Seth’s side and knew the ribs were broken. He removed his own shirt and tied it around Seth’s ribs, binding them.

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