Saddle Dust

Chapter 9

Two horses slowly begin to grow larger against the grey backdrop of the early morning sky. The horses are moving at a slow trot so the cloud of dust shadowing after them on the road is little more than puffs of dirt stirring at their hooves. The rider's shoulders are slumped from exhaustion but his eyes are keen on the house ahead of him and his nose searches the air for any sign that breakfast is being put on. He is still uneasy and even a little confused from his ride back from town. The horses were skiddish, the grey one especially, from all of the coyotes howling and yipping to each other. The coyotes had been very active that night and Richard supposes the grey horse is reliving bad memories.
The grey horse is what is at the front of his thoughts as the house continues to unshrink itself from the distance. He recognized the horse as one of Frederick's fastest and most sure-footed wrangler ponies. Its brand was quite clear on its shoulder (bar hooked H) so he was certain it was the ranch's pony. It's one of the best horses he puts on his yearly cattle drives, and Richard found it wandering out by itself near the side of the road.
The poor beast had mysterious claw marks on its hindquarters that looked suspiciously like they were from a wolf or coyote. The horse also had a few small spots of blood dotted around its shoulders that Richard thought had maybe been from the rider. He had approached the horse cautiously and after about half an hour was able to calm the animal enough to let him approach it and grab its reins. The reins were torn in several different places and had hung loosely around the horse's legs and hooves. Richard thought it was a miracle that the animal hadn't gotten tangled up and broken a leg. The horse's eyes were white with fear and it had held its ears down flat against its head when Richard had approached in an attempt to retrieve the beast. The horse had stamped its hooves whenever he had taken a step closer to it. He supposed that the animal had been running at a full gallop for a long time from the way the sweat was pouring down the beast's neck and back and it looked exhausted.
When Richard had finally succeeded in securing the horse's reins and had gotten it to let him lead it, he looped the reins around the horn of his own horse's saddle and left the two horses standing on the road. He wandered off into the prairie, searching for clues as to where the horse's rider might have gone. He had expected to find its rider or at least something that would tell him what had happened but any evidence that had been in the area was long gone now. He supposed that the grey horse had run several miles away from where whatever had happened had happened, and doubted if he would be able to find much else in the area. Turning away from the sagebrush, Richard had walked back towards the road where the grey horse stood tethered to his own tall chestnut one. He had searched the area for nearly an hour and was looking forward to getting back to the ranch where there would be good food and a place to rest.
The journey back had taken Richard much longer than he anticipated after the stop to retrieve the grey horse and look for its rider plus, with the grey horse poorly tied to the saddle of his own, Richard had kept his horse at a slow trot so the grey pony could keep up without getting tugged along.
Richard made it to the corral and hitched the two horses outside. He walks into the tack room expecting to find the stable boy so he can ask about the grey horse, but the stable boy isn't around. Richard decides that the stable boy will find the two horses and relieve them of their saddles when he gets back from running whatever errand he has gone off to complete. Richard leaves the coral and walks up to the front porch of the house. Breakfast, after all, waits for none. He is just reaching for the handle of the door when it is thrown wide open and a hand violently grabs the front of his shirt pulling him inside.
"ARLINGTON! DAMN you! Where the HELL have you been? We sent the stable boy out HOURS AGO. You should have been here much sooner. Do you have any idea what your tardiness has done? You SWINE. Do you have nothing to say for your-"
"Frederick! That's quite enough."
Richard recovers enough to take in the scene before him. He sees that Frederick's fists are still bunched up around the collar of his shirt and the face in front of him has gone a rather violent shade of maroon. Spit clings to the edges of his mouth and Richard feels it on his face. Julia steps around Frederick and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. Frederick releases Richard and jumps at Julia as if to hit her, but stops himself just in time. His shoulders are heaving and Julia looks scared of him. Richard is shocked. Never in his entire time of knowing the Hartfords has Frederick even raised his voice at Julia. His sudden outburst leaves Richard feeling as if he has been put in a world where everything is the opposite of how its supposed to be.
Julia breaks the silence. Her voice is laden with sorrow trying to escape and there are tears in her eyes.
"Where were you? We sent out the stable boy hours ago to find you. Didn't you believe him? Believe us? Why didn't you come right away?"
Richard is absolutely dumbfounded.
"But...I never saw the stable boy. He's here isn't he? Is this some sort of a joke?"
Now both Julia and Frederick's faces reflect Richard's own confusion.
"Richard, we sent out the stable boy to find you. There was an accident. Philip-"
Julia begins to sob uncontrollably. Her seemingly impenetrable wall of stoicism has fallen. Frederick wraps her in his arms and she cries into his shoulder. Richard notes that his eyes are red and the bags under them are heavy with worry.
"You know something, I saw a grey pony on the side of the road. It had the family brand on it, and so I brought it along with me."
Richard is scared by the intensity with which Frederick is staring at him.
"You saw the grey..."
"Yes. I brought it back with me. It looked terrified when I found it. It had injuries which looked to be inflicted by coyotes. There was no rider with him. I searched the area for over an hour, but I found nothing. Do you think it was bandits that stole the horse and-"
Frederick gently interrupts. His voice is weary and worn.
"No, Richard. That...I sent out the stable boy on that horse to find you. Philip had an accident...well, we're not completely sure what happened exactly, but he had a horrible infection. It had gotten to his blood and we knew he wasn't going to make it unless we got a real doctor. He would have made it had you been here in time but...well, it appears the stable boy ran into some trouble of his own on his way delivering you the message."
Richard's mouth has gone dry.
"Philip is...dead?"
"Yes. He passed on about two hours ago. It was still dark outside when he went-"
Frederick's words die suddenly on his lips and he goes silent.
"I'm... so sorry. I know how much he meant to you all. He worked faithfully for your family for so many years. Maxine was always talking about him-"
Concern hits Richard.
"Where's Maxine? How is she? Is she with little Frederick? Did she get to talk to Philip one more time before he...died?"
Frederick's eyes are threatening to spill tears down his red blotched cheeks as he looks at Richard.
"Y...yes. She was there for...for it all. Refused to leave his side. He was happy, I think, to have her there. She was on the back porch for a while, but I think she's gone to bed now. She needs her rest after...after that horrible night. Little Frederick is asleep in his cradle. I suggest you go be with Maxine. She needs you right now."
Richard nods slowly, taking in everything that has just happened over the last few minutes.
"I'll do that. But first I would like to see...to see Philip. I want to examine his injury before he has...well, been out too long. If we don't know how he died exactly, I think I would like to try to make my own guess...as a professional."
Frederick nods.
"He's upstairs in my and Julia's room. Just...please go be with Maxine when you are finished. She is taking this whole thing rather hard and...well, she just lost a man who was like family to her...we all did."
Richard leaves the room and heads upstairs to where Philip lies under a white sheet. His face is imprinted against the fabric as it has settled on top of him. Richard sets his large brown medical bag on the floor and takes his hat off, setting it on the side table. He reaches for the sheet and gently folds it back so that Philip is exposed to the room's still air from the waist up. Richard looks past the pain and anger etched on his restless face and carefully pulls Philip's injured arm off of his chest. Rigor mortis has already set in and so it is stiff as he bends it straight.
Richard examines the tell tale black-green streaks tracing out the poisoned blood vessels of the sepsis victim. He has no doubt that it was sepsis from the injury, and not blood loss, although he knows that the Hartfords already know this. Richard looks down at the bandages. He notes that they are well-wrapped, and the wound doesn't appear to have wept through the wrappings. He also sees the belt and thinks that it probably came too late to help and most likely prolonged Philip's suffering when it was put on. It would have been better if he had lost more blood and simply passed out and gone that way instead of suffering through whatever hell had twisted his face into its current expression. Richard decides that he will not share this little detail with anyone. They clearly tried everything they could to keep him alive long enough for a real doctor to arrive. But, of course, the real doctor was too late.
Richard swallows his guilt and takes the bandages off of the arm. It is hard for Richard to remember a time in his many years of medical practice where he was not able to contain an expression of disgust or worry on his face in front of a sick or dying patient. But this is one of the few occasions when his expression slipped for just a second, and a small cry of disgust escaped his lips. What Richard sees can only be described as one of the worst infection sites he has ever seen. He fights the urge to throw the sheets back over the tortured man and leave the room. Richard forces himself to look closer at the injury. To try to see if something cut his hand off or if it was amputated by a benevolent knife.
From the little circle of bone he can see under a filmy layer of bacteria, Richard thinks that the hand was cut off in an attempt to save the poor man's life. He suspects it was probably Victor who had to do the deed. He thinks he will try to talk to Victor later on and see if his guess is true. Before Richard wraps the bandage up again, he notes a small semicircle crossing part of the flesh. It looks singed. Hmm...the mark of a bullet's path-or at least half of it. Curious...
Richard adds this observation to the list of things he wants to ask Victor and Frederick about. Richard thinks that he has done all he can to justify the poor man's death to the family, and so he wraps the wound back up and crosses Philip's arms across his chest again. Richard reaches down and attempts to close the glassy eyes now beginning to fog, but the eyelids refuse to budge from their open position. Richard shudders. It's a bad omen. He jerks the sheet over Philip's body harsher than he intends to, and swiftly leaves the room hastily grabbing his medical bag and hat as he does so.
Julia is sitting in a chair at the table when Richard walks downstairs. She looks at him almost hopefully. Richard realizes that to the rest of the family, watching a man, once strong and healthy, die before their eyes and have no explanation for it must be, to say the least, shocking. While the suddenness of Philip's death is still unsettling to Richard, he is used to seeing formerly healthy people become ill and die shortly after of unknown and mysterious causes. It is a harsh truth of the world that he has become all too accustomed to. Julia's voice brings him back to the present.
"Richard, do you have any idea how he could have died? I mean, how did Philip get that injury?"
Richard slowly shakes his head.
"I'm sorry Julia. I don't know. It could have been from a bullet, more likely multiple shots to the wrist or hand if it is from gunplay, but I'm not sure. I couldn't find any solid evidence, the arm was too mutilated anyhow. I am truly sorry for your loss. He was a good man."
Richard waits the appropriate amount of time for the news to reach Julia before continuing on.
"Where are Victor and Frederick? I want to ask them some quesitons- Victor in particular."
"Yes, they went into town to see about a...a coffin for...Philip. Richard, I just can't believe that...that..."
Richard has had practice helping the families of the newly departed deal with sudden death. His tone is gentle and low.
"What happened to him was horrible. I am sorry that I am unable to find out any more than you could by looking at his injury, but I am sure that if his injury was inflicted on him by some deviant soul, justice will be served to that individual or group."
Julia looks up sharply at Richard.
"So, you think that his injury was inflicted by a fellow man and it wasn't an accident?"
Richard considers this.
"Well, I'm not completely sure but I did see what could possibly be a mark from a bullet. It could have been from some other man, but it's more than likely from an accident, you know, the gun was loaded and the horse jumped at a snake. If Victor hasn't told you already what went down, well, it's more than likely that something embarrassing happened to give him that injury, and Victor is letting his friend keep his pride."
"But, do you really think it was just from an accident? I mean, you don't think anyone could have given that to him?"
Richard gives a consoling smile.
"No ma'am, I don't think it likely that he was injured in some sort of fight. I don't take Philip to be a man with many enemies."
Julia nods.
"No, he didn't have many enemies. Lil-Casey never took to him, but I would be shocked if she was the one who did that to him."
Julia says this with confidence, but Richard can tell that she needs reassurance of Casey's innocence. He isn't quite certain of her innocence himself, but doesn't believe that she is the cause of Philip's death.
"Ah, yes, Casey. No, I would also be shocked to learn that she was the one who did that to him. You and I both know that she has gotten into several brawls, many of them ending in serious injury to herself or others, but gunplay isn't her style. The papers say so themselves."
Julia relaxes and even manages to smile at Richard.
"Yes, you're right. And thank you for checking over Philip. He meant so much to this family. Maxine especially. I just can't believe that he won't...won't be on the trail with Victor anymore. The two of them were like brothers; inseparable...please, go be with Maxine. She has had such a hard night."
"Yes, I'll do that. Thank you. And Julia, I'm really, truly sorry for your loss. I take responsibility for his passing the way he did. I should have known something was wrong when I saw the pony and-"
Julia sounds weary but firm as she interrupts Richard.
"No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault. We did everything we could to save him. Don't blame yourself. It couldn't be helped."
Richard nods and begins to turn towards his and Maxine's bedroom. When Julia stops him with her words.
"Waterton was a big help, you know, with Maxine. She was so broken up over Philip's death and he made sure she was alright."
For some reason, Julia's words stiffen his back. Richard isn't conscious of the tingling in his gut, but for some reason or other he isn't completely pleased at this bit of news. He doesn't know how he feels. Richard chalks it up to his exhaustion and the last several unsettling hours and bids Julia goodnight (or good morning, he thinks later) as he leaves the room.
Richard finds Maxine asleep under the bed's heavy quilt. He changes quietly and slides under the sheets next to her. She barely stirs as he kisses her lightly on the forehead, and he falls deeply asleep just a few minutes later.