Rosa's Land: Western Justice - book 1 (21 page)

Riordan smiled. “Thanks, Ringo. I appreciate it.”

The tension that had been in the room faded, and the card game went on as Riordan put on clean underwear and lay down with a sigh of relief. His last thought was,
That woman sure did enjoy seeing me get thrown. Wonder what she will think of next to humiliate me? Whatever it is I won’t let her get to me!

D
uring the days that followed her encounter with Riordan at the water tank, Rosa became more and more disgusted with him. She thought he was utterly worthless, but one thing that happened surprised her:

Her grandfather had commanded Ned to give Riordan a better horse. “Give him Big Red,” he had said. “He’s a fast horse. Never bucked in his life. See that the young fellow learns how to ride.”

Despite herself, Rosa was interested in the experiment. She watched every day as Riordan saddled the big red gelding, who stood absolutely still as a statue for the process. Unlike other horses, he would open his mouth and take the bit without trying to bite anybody. She watched as Riordan became more and more easy in mounting and began taking Red out for rides during which he would go faster and faster.

One Thursday afternoon, Rosa went outside the house, noting that it was a lazy day and most of the work was done. She saw Ned whittling in the shade of the big walnut tree and walked over. “Where’s the big dishwasher?”

“Why, he went for a ride.”

“Did he get the stable clean?”

“Oh, Miss Rosa, you couldn’t expect him to do that. None of these marshals ever do anything like work on these ranches. We got a new man, a young man from Mexico to take care of that.”

“Where did he go?”

“I seen him about an hour ago riding out east. Didn’t say where he was going. I do know he’s been studying a map of the Territory and riding over it as much as he can. Looks like he wants to know the country.”

“He’s just riding around to get out of work. He’s a bum. That’s all he is.”

Her nerves were on edge as she mounted her horse and rode out. She rode for twenty minutes and got to the river. Turning the mare’s head, she followed a small branch of it until she saw Riordan seated under a tree. He seemed to be writing something on a tablet.

She stepped off of her horse, tied her to a sapling, and advanced until she was within a few feet of the unsuspecting man. “What are you doing?”

Riordan was startled. He jumped up, holding the pad in one hand and a pencil in the other.

“Are you writing letters?”

“I just like to get away once in a while.”

“Who are you writing to?” Rosa demanded.

“Nobody.”

“That sounds unlikely.” She went forward and snatched the tablet saying, “Are you writing to your sweetheart?”

She looked down at the open page and received a shock. It was not a letter but a pencil sketch of the terrain that lay to the south. There was the small stream, correct in every detail, the plains, and in a bunch of high grass, a six-point buck had lifted his head, his eyes staring, looking as real as life. Far off was the outline of the mountains. “You’re drawing pictures!”

Riordan looked embarrassed. “Just a hobby.”

Rosa started to hand the tablet to him, but the wind caught the pages and folded them back. She looked down and saw a sketch of herself wearing her riding outfit. Her hat was pushed back on her head, and she was frowning as if she were angry. “What do you mean drawing pictures of me?”

Riordan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just like to draw all sorts of things.”

Rosa turned the pages and saw sketches of the ranch, of her mother standing at the cookstove, of Ringo riding a bucking bronc, her father and grandfather playing checkers. “I didn’t want an artist,” she snapped. “I wanted a tough man to run down some killers. I’m sick of you, you so-called marshal. Take your pictures and go back to Judge Parker.”

She turned and walked back, aware that he was following her, trying to apologize. “I’m sorry, Miss Ramirez. I can promise you I won’t do any more.”

Rosa had reached her horse when suddenly he grabbed her from behind and swung her around. She fought loose and struck at him with a quirt she always carried, but he hardly reacted. She was shocked when he pulled his gun in one smooth motion and fired it. Twirling she saw an enormous headless rattlesnake thrashing in the weeds.

If there was one thing Rosa Ramirez was frightened of, it was snakes, and this one was a monster. Frozen with fear, even though the danger was passed, she watched until the snake finally grew still. She suddenly realized that she had struck a man who was trying to save her life. She looked at the big snake, which she knew had venom enough to kill her. “I’m sorry—”

She broke off, for Riordan had sat down and taken his right boot off. He pulled the sock down, and she saw the twin punctures. She watched, unable to speak, as he took out a pocketknife and cut a deep etch in both wounds. The blood began to flow freely. He looked up and remarked, “I guess he got me.”

Rosa had always been careful of snakes, and she had never seen one any bigger than this. Suddenly she cried, “Get on your horse. We’ve got to get you to the doctor.”

“He’s at Fort Smith. I’ll be dead by that time.”

Quickly Rosa ran over and pulled him to his feet and led him to his horse. “Get on your horse!”

He shrugged, and she ran to her own horse and called out, “We’ve got to hurry!”

“There’s no hurry, Miss Ramirez. I don’t think there’s any cure for snakebites.”

Rosa rushed as quickly as she could back to the ranch. Trying to keep Riordan awake and seated on his horse impeded their progress somewhat. When they arrived at the house, she saw Ned and motioned for him to come.

Ned responded to Rosa’s summons by calling out, “Ringo, something’s wrong.”

The two advanced, and as they did, they saw that Riordan’s face was drained and pale, that his eyes were starting to turn upward. “He’s been snake bit. Carry him into the house.”

There was no need to pull him off, for Riordan fell right into Ned’s husky arms. He hurried to the steps and called out, “Riordan’s been snake bit! We need to put him in bed.”

“Put him in the bed in the front bedroom,” Grandfather said. He looked down. “Are you all right, Riordan?”

“I don’t—feel so good.”

They took him in and cleaned the blood off of his leg as he lay in the bed, but Ned said, “From the looks of those fang marks, it was a big ‘un.”

“The biggest I’ve ever seen.”

Father had come in. “What gave him that cut on the cheek? That wasn’t a snake.”

Memory came back, and Rosa flushed, but she said nothing. She sat down beside Riordan. People came and went, and she watched his face as it began to twist in a grimace of pain. He twitched, and his arms and legs were shaking. She reached out and held him down. Finally she was aware that only her grandfather was there.

“I’m afraid he’s going to die,” Rosa said.

“Well, in the case of snakebites, I guess it’s up to God. I’ve seen men get bitten and die, and I’ve seen some of them get well.”

The only sound in the room was Riordan’s heavy and uneven gasping breaths.

She suddenly felt tears running down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. I was going to get on my horse, and he grabbed me from behind. I—I thought he was trying to grab me, and I hit him with my quirt.” She looked up, her face twisted with grief. “He pulled his gun and shot the snake. He was trying to save my life, and I did that to him.”

“Well,” her grandfather said, “some things we can make up for and some things we can’t. If he don’t die, you can tell him you’re sorry.”

The doctor came, but when he looked at the leg that was terribly swollen, took Riordan’s pulse, and felt the feverish brow, he said, “He looks bad, but I think he’s over the hump. How long since he was bitten?”

“At least five hours, doctor.”

“Well, he’d be dead by now if that were going to happen. He just needs care.”

“Tell me what to do, doctor,” Rosa whispered. “I’ll take care of him.”

When Riordan opened his eyes, he could see a ceiling and was aware that he was in a strange room. His leg was agonizing to him, and he groaned. He then turned his head and saw that Rosa Ramirez was sitting there beside him. She had been asleep, but he had awakened her when he groaned.

“You’re awake,” she said. She leaned over him and said, “You’re going to be all right, Riordan.”

Riordan was feeling miserable, but he realized that it was the first time she had ever used his name. “Can I have some water?”

“Of course.” She quickly poured him a glass of water. He received it with hands not quite steady. She held his head up and helped him drink it. It spilled, running down his neck.

“That’s good,” he whispered. He looked down and saw his leg, which was terribly swollen. “Not very pretty, is it?”

“But you’re going to be all right. The doctor said if you’d been going to die, you’d be dead already. He wants you to try to eat and drink as much fluid as you can. I’ve got some broth made. I’ll go heat it up.” She left the room.

Riordan lay there suffering the pain and studying his leg, which seemed to be twice as big as the other one. “Well, ain’t this a pretty come off,” he whispered to himself.

Rosa entered the room with a bowl and a spoon. She said, “I need to prop you up.” She put the bowl and spoon down, took him under the arms, and pulled him to an upright position. She propped his back up with the extra pillow. She fed him the broth and gave him more water when he asked for it.

Finally he said, “That’s all I want.” He laid his head back and shut his eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking to her.

Rosa put the bowl and the spoon down. She seemed to be struggling with the words to tell him something. Finally she said, “Riordan, when you grabbed me I thought you were trying to kiss me, and I hit you with my whip. Then I saw the snake, and I realized you were trying to save my life. I can’t— All I can say is I’m so sorry.”

“My fault.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was my fault.”

“I shouldn’t have drawn your picture.”

“No, I was silly.” She hesitated then said, “Maybe you should have been an artist instead of a marshal.”

Suddenly Riordan grinned. “That’s what my mother said.”

Riordan closed his eyes again. After a few moments, he sensed that Rosa had risen from her position. He expected to hear her footsteps as she left the room, obviously thinking he had fallen asleep. But instead, she whispered some words, which he was sure she never intended him to hear.

“I’ll never forget what you did, Riordan. Never.”

He did hear her leave after her declaration. He kept his eyes closed as to avoid embarrassment for both of them, and his mind kept turning her words over and over.

Riordan was out of bed and had put on a pair of pants with the right leg split, for his leg was still swollen. He hobbled out of the bedroom and saw Frank sitting at the kitchen table. “I’m going out to the bunkhouse. I’ve had your bedroom long enough.”

“You don’t have to do that, young feller.”

“I’d feel better.”

Mateo and Chenoa were both in the room. They came over, and the woman took his hand and kissed it. “You saved my daughter’s life.”

Mateo did not speak, but his eyes spoke volumes. Finally he said, “You are a good man.”

“Anybody would have done it.”

As he hobbled out, Frank said, “No, they wouldn’t. Some fellows would have run like a scared rabbit when they saw that big snake.”

Riordan went outside and crossed the yard, limping badly. He got to the bunkhouse and sat down on the bench outside. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, for he was still weak. He opened them when he heard footsteps and saw Ringo coming.

Ringo sat down beside Riordan and said, “What happened? We heard all kinds of stories.”

“Oh, there was a snake, and I shot it.”

“That’s not what Rosa says. She said you pulled her out of the way and shot the snake. That it bit you instead of her. She’s told everybody on the ranch what a hero you are.”

“I’m no hero.”

“Well, you sound like one to me. You know … if you can shoot the head off a snake that quick, you must be a pretty good shot.”