Holt's Gamble by Barbara Ankrum Read Free Book Online Page B

nudging his horse into an easy lope in the direction of town.
    Kierin watched until she could see him no longer and then turned back to the fire. Steam rose from the hanging pot. Wrapping her hand in the long sleeve of Holt's buckskin shirt she lifted the pot from its hook.
    Jacob was bent over Holt, pressing a white cloth against his shoulder, when she stepped up into the wagon. She set the pot down and moved closer. In the light, Holt looked deathly pale and still. His dark curls clung damply to his face.
    "Git me that bag over on top of that crate," Jacob commanded suddenly, startling her.
    She reached for the squat leather bag and handed it to Jacob. Still holding the cloth to Holt's shoulder, Jacob reached into the bag with his free hand and pulled a small corked vial from it.
    "Mix some o' this with that warm water. Mix it up good—like you was makin' soup," he ordered.
    Kierin looked at the vial curiously. "What is it?"
    "Marigold powder. Stops the bleedin' an' holds down infection."
    "I never heard of that before."
    Ignoring her comment, he handed her a small metal bowl, and focused on Holt's wound again. Kierin poured some water into the bowl and added the powder, mixing it with her hands; the pungent odor filled the wagon's interior. When the mixture reached a consistency that seemed to please Jacob, she handed him the bowl.
    Jacob quickly tore another piece of sheeting and dipped it into the marigold decoction. He wrung it out slightly and laid it gently upon the wound, pressing it firmly.
    "That ought'a do it," he mumbled to himself. He laid a work-roughened hand on Clay's forehead. His ebony skin made a startling contrast to Holt's whiteness.
    "Come on, Clay boy..." he urged. "You gots to fight this, now. Don't you go givin' up on me here. We gots a long way to go."
    There was a softness to his voice that touched Kierin. She looked away, feeling suddenly like an intruder on the two friends.
    Jacob reached for his bag again, and pulled out a pouch filled with dried herbs. "If he wakes up, give him some tea out'a these rosehips. Keep the pressure on that bleedin' 'til it stops and change that dressin' every half hour or so 'til I gets back."
    "Back?" she stammered in bewilderment, "Where are you going?" Surely he didn't intend to leave her alone with Holt?
    "Clay left a trail of blood I reckon a blind man could follow. I just aim to backtrack a little so they don't trail him back to this wagon."
    "Oh, of course..." A wave of apprehension swept through her. What if it was too late for that already? "Be careful, Jacob."
    He nodded. Unfolding a spare blanket, he wrapped it around her shoulders. "I'm much obliged to you for bringin' Clay back," he said with grudging gentleness, a hint of a smile touching his full lips. Then he turned and left the wagon.
    * * *
    First one, then two hours passed as Kierin watched over Holt, changing the poultice on his shoulder and keeping cool cloths on his forehead. He rested fitfully. He seemed to be fighting the fever that now warmed his body and she forced sips of tea down him when he roused enough to drink it. Kierin held the blankets on him when he fought to kick them off and added her own when he shivered uncontrollably under the pile that covered him.
    All the while her concern for Jacob's safety grew. Had he been caught covering their trail? What could be keeping him so long? She looked out the half-opened flap. It was close to dawn and the sky was turning a deep, cobalt blue. The subtle change of light filtered through the white canvas of the wagon top. She pressed a hand against the ache in the small of her back, a symptom of the weariness that vibrated throughout her body.
    She returned to Holt and mechanically renewed the poultice, wringing it out in the warm water. His fever was worse, she realized, when her hand brushed his hot skin.
    "Come on, Mr. Holt," she urged him, "don't give up. You can fight this."
    Automatically, she wrung out another cool cloth for his head. She