The Eyes of the Wind, Part Six

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG

LINK TO PART ONE

~

Adam leaned on me heavily as we made our way to the other stranger. “Is he conscious?” I asked as Adam released his hold on me, presumably to kneel at the man’s side.

“No,” he answered, “but he looks better off than his friend. Hand me your frockcoat, will you?” he said. “We can rip it up for bandages.”

I unbuttoned the coat and held it out. A moment later I felt him take it from me—and then I heard the sound of him tearing the linen into strips.

I sighed. I had been fond of that coat.

I crouched down as Adam continued working on the stranger. When he was done, I knew I’d have to bring myself to ask about the coach. Were my servants buried beneath the wreck? Were they alive?

But a shout answered that question for me. “Mr. Clayton! Mr. Cartwright!”

I stood up again and turned toward the voice. It was Brian, my valet. He must have been uninjured, for I could hear him running toward me from farther down the hill.

He threw his arms around me when he reached me. I stood there in shock as he held me tightly against him for a long moment.

I was too stunned to react. Normally Brian wouldn’t have dared to take such a liberty with my person. But I forced myself to overlook his behavior today, chalking it up to Irish exuberance. I even managed to return his embrace—stiffly—and give his back a reassuring pat.

At length he released me and turned toward Adam. “Will that fellow live?” he asked.

“I think this man will,” Adam answered. “But, short of a miracle, his friend hasn’t got long.”

Brian sighed. Presumably he was looking toward the friend. “Well, leastways the fellow’s unconscious. He won’t feel a thing now, will he?”

“Brian, where’s Peter?” I demanded. I was far more worried for my footman than for the stranger.

“Don’t be fretting, sir,” Brian returned. “It’d take more than a stage wreck to kill off Peter. He went after the horses.”

“Then the horses weren’t dragged down with the coach?” I asked.

Adam answered that. “No. They broke loose. Let’s hope they didn’t run too far. Brian—is that your name?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

“Have you seen any sign of the driver or his companion?”

“No, sir,” Brian said. “I’d wager they were tossed early on.”

“Go search for them,” Adam ordered. “But don’t go more than a half-mile back—we’ll need you here to help with this fellow.”

“Aye, sir,” he said. And then I heard him jog off, back up toward the road, without even confirming the order with me.

Adam’s presumption infuriated me—how dare he issue commands to my servant? But I bit back a sharp reprimand. I didn’t need a war with Adam at the moment. There’d be time to blister his ears when were safely back in Virginia City.

Besides, I couldn’t quite blame Brian. Adam had the natural air of a leader, damn him. Even I could admit that—especially under present circumstances.

I crouched back down as I swallowed my anger. I would remain calm, I swore to myself. I would not show Adam how much his casual command to Brian had annoyed me.

“What now?” I forced myself to ask him. If he was so bloody determined to take charge, I reckoned that he could figure out how to get us out of this mess.

“We’re not far from an old way station,” Adam answered. He was still working on the stranger, from the sound of things. “It’s abandoned," he continued, "but it will give us shelter for the night. If your footman can retrieve the horses, hopefully we can rig up something to transport this fellow over there. As for his friend—well, we’ll probably have to dig a temporary grave by then.”

I sighed. “How far are we talking about? Can you walk there?” Riding, I knew, would be problematic. These were coach horses, without saddles or proper riding reins.

He didn’t answer that straight away. “I doubt it,” he said at last. “Let’s wait and see if Peter has luck with the horses. Then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

I nodded. “Have you put any bandages on your own leg?”

“Not yet. It’s not bleeding badly.”

I took off my waistcoat and, with a twinge of regret, began tearing it into strips. At length I held the strips out to Adam. “Use these for your leg—not for your patient there.”

Adam chuckled at that. “Why Drew, I didn’t know you cared,” he teased.

“I don’t,” I assured him. “But you’re a better bet for my personal survival than the strangers are.”

LINK TO PART SEVEN