~Bound~

 by

 Roberta Olsen Major

Bess stepped out from her hiding place and glared at the two men, her arms akimbo.  "I don't know who the hell you two are," she called, "or what the hell you're doing here, but quit arguing and get that man in here out of the rain."

Ajani was so startled at the appearance of the big-boned, ginger-haired woman that he nearly let Ben fall.  Recovering, he hurried Ben into the barn, ignoring his feeble protests, and laid him down on a pile of straw.

"What's wrong with him?"  Bess was already tossing Ben's hat aside to peer into his bloodshot blue eyes.  "You're burning up, mister."

"Gunshot," Ajani said.

Bess was peeling away Ben's jacket and shirt and making a face at the dirty bandage she found around his ribs.  "You may as well bring the horses in and rub them down," she said.  "This man won't be sitting a saddle for awhile."

Ben tried to shove her hands away, but a brisk Bess was no match for him in his present state.  "I'll need hot water," she said.  "Go over to the house and tell my sister."  She paused long enough to consider the straw and nearby animals.  "Better yet, help me get him to the house.  This place is none too clean for nursing a sick man."

"Miss," Ajani said hesitantly, "the less people who know about us being here--"

"My sister is the minister's wife," Bess said.  "She's a soft touch for strangers in need.  You'll be safe enough here.  Trouble following you?"

Ajani nodded, his face grim.

"And not too far behind, I'd guess.  Well, we'll think of something."  There's always the well, Bess thought, but looking again at the wounded man she dismissed it as a possible hiding place.  He wasn't up to it.  No, they'd have to think of  something else.  But first things first.  "Here, help me get him upright.  It's only a few steps to the house."

Ajani was able to manage the smaller man without help, so Bess led them to Emma's back door, which, though more than the few promised steps, was still not too far.  Omolara saw them coming and was first off the porch.  Her eyes caught Bess's, then skipped past, glancing off Ben's sagging form and coming to rest on Ajani.

By this time Emma was at the door.  "What's happened?  Who are these men?"

"I need hot water, Em," Bess said, "and a knife, and a bottle of whiskey."

"Whiskey?"  Emma echoed.

"Never mind the whiskey.  Omolara, get some from the wagon.  And your herbs.  Come on, mister.  We'll put your friend in my room."

As she passed her sister, Bess took quick stock of the look in Emma's brown eyes.  Emma won't turn anyone away, she thought, reassured.

Bess just had time to whisk Emma's second-best quilt off the bed in her room before Ajani lowered Ben onto the sheets none too gently and reached to begin tugging off his boots.  

Omolara rejoined them, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a leather bag in the other.  "I told your sister how we use whiskey as medicine," she said to Bess with a grin.

"Actors need a lot of doctoring," Bess agreed, straight-faced.

"Waste of good whiskey," the man on the bed said.

Emma was quick with the hot water;  Bess used some of it to carefully soak away the crusted bandage, though not without muttered curses and stifled winces from Ben.

"The bullet's out," Ajani offered.  "Dug it out myself."

Bess sniffed at the ugly wound and then threw a look at Omolara, who set about mixing a poultice of dried herbs from her leather bag.

"Is it bad?"  Emma asked.

"I hope Addison won't mind another house guest," was all Bess replied.

Once the poultice was set, and Omolara and Bess had cleaned Ben up (with much jaw-clenching and eye-glinting on his part), Bess brewed a nasty-tasting hot drink and set the mug down next to the prone man.  "You need to drink this."  She helped him sit up, shoved some pillows behind him for support, and then handed him the mug.

Ben, still weak, took a tentative sip then spat it out.  "That's the worst coffee I ever tasted!"

"It's not coffee," Bess snapped, "and if you can't drink it without help, I'll pour it down you!"

Ben eyed her warily, and decided he was no match for her at the moment. He did as he was told--though not without editorial comments muttered, prudently, under his breath.  When he'd finished, he set the mug on the commode with a clumsy hand and, gritting his teeth, eased back against the pillows.

"Now, is there anything my sister ought to know about you," Bess asked briskly, "seeing as how you'll be accepting her hospitality for awhile?"

"I won't be accepting her hospitality for awhile," Ben said, eyes closed.  "I'll be outta here as soon as I catch my breath."  Why is it so damned hard to keep my eyelids open? I feel like someone yanked out all my bones and left me in a puddle somewhere.  Somewhere soft.

"You should be able to sleep now," Bess whispered as she adjusted the coverlet over him.

His eyelids flickered, and Bess jumped back at the glint in his blue eyes.  "What was in that mug?" he asked, his tongue feeling big and awkward in his mouth.

"Just a little something to help you relax," Bess said, "and to fight the infection.  Sweet dreams."

"Damn you," Ben said as languor spread through him.  "If you aren't the most interfering woman..."