Saddle Dust

Chapter 12

"Anita? ANITA!" Harry screams. A man, massive and stockinged, rushes towards Harry who drops the starch at the sight of the burning saloon. It's only when the man gets closer that Harry sees he's holding the huddled form of Anita.
"She's alive, just unconscious."
"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"
"I...I don't know. I was boarding at your saloon, and then there was smoke and fire. I heard someone coughing as I was trying to get out, and knew it must be Ms. Romero."
Why's and How's flap their leathery wings around inside Harry's head. Was it Casey? Did Casey get drunk, and just…Casey. CASEY.
"Casey. CASEY! CASEY! OH MY GOD WHERE THE HELL'S CASEY!"
"Uhh, sir? I wouldn't do that ifâ€""
Harry sprints to the dragon-like mouth of the saloon. He throws his body through the half-burnt door, and fights his way through the room, half-choking himself with smoke as he does so.
"CASEY! CAâ€"*cough* CASEYY!"
He finds her, at last. Flames are dancing greedily around her and tease with little pokes at her body. Some of the braver and stronger fingers of flame have climbed her back already and dance across her hair.
"Oh dear Lord in heaven." Harry grabs Casey, and stumbles out of the saloon. Her badly burned body is slung limply over his shoulders.
Outside, a makeshift fire brigade has begun to dump water frantically on the building. It's clearly a lost cause, but the flames could easily spread to its neighbors. Harry dodges people and makes it across the street to where the stockinged man still stands with Anita in his arms. His face pales when he sees the body Harry is carrying.
"Sir, I don't think she...well, she looks mighty dead to me."
Harry nods and swallows. He is trembling.
"Let's get them to the doctor's."
The man shakes his head, still looking at Casey's body.
"It ain't right. I'll just take Ms. Romero, but you get that one to the carpenters. She's gone, son."
"No she ain't." Harry says through gritted teeth. "She can't be."
The stockinged man tries not to catch the tremble in Harry's voice at the last bit. It pains him to see this man, well-respected, hauling around a corpse he's still trying to save.
Two minutes later, the doctor has Anita lying in a chair, and is waving smelling salts and pressing a wet cloth to her forehead. Her breathing is shallow, but steady and she isn't burned too badly.
The doctor ordered Harry to take Casey's body into another room, just for the sake of thoroughness. Also the man's eyes looked haunted, desperate almost, and he didn't want to get into a fight with him about the likelihood of her still being alive. So Harry laid Casey out on a table in another room reserved for the doctor's autopsies, and sat in a chair where he could see the side of her face which seemed to have been pressed to the floor, and was untouched by the fire.
Anita slowly gains consciousness, and the doctor brings her a glass of water and a set of clothes his wife brought.
"Casey. Where's Casey?"
The doctor sees desperation in her eyes, and feels a deep sorrow for the hurt, afraid woman sitting in front of him. He shakes his head and places his hand over hers comfortingly.
"She's...I'm so sorry."
Instead of the expected look of shock and hurtâ€" often anger, the woman remains calm.
"You got her out, right?"
"Erm, yes. Well, her body at least."
To the doctor's greater surprise, the woman lights up. "Oh good! Where is she?"
Anita stands from her chair and makes as if to leave the room. Poor thing, must be in some sort of shock.
"Ms. Romero, that really won't be necessary. I'm quite sure she'sâ€""
"Well, I'm quite sure she's not." Anita says pointedly, and leaves the room.

In the autopsy lab, Harry sits, his head in his hands. On the table, Casey's head lolls to rest on the unturned side. Harry looks up, sees that her head has changed positions, and is momentarily hopeful again. Then, he sees that her head was simply not positioned in a balanced way, and it probably tipped on its own.
Harry decides there's no point in letting her body sit here. What was it his mother had always said? It's disrespectful to let the dead hang around? Yes, that was it. And that was exactly what he was letting happen to Casey's body. He is just reaching the table when he sees one brown, bloodshot eye blink open and stare at him. He freezes in place, barely daring to breathe. Casey's chest rattles, and a shutter runs through her body.
Casey begins to cough just as Anita bursts into the room, desperation and worry etching lines into her face. As soon as she sees Casey, she begins to sob and runs to her, throwing her arms around her as best she can. Casey groans and cries out, trying to twist away. Harry comes to her aid.
"Anita, don't you touch her. She's burnt bad. Real bad."
Anita jumps away from Casey, crying hard now, and Harry grabs her and holds her tightly in a hug. The doctor comes in, somewhat disoriented at the lazarean scene unfolding before him. He only stands idle for a few seconds before rushing over to Casey and beginning to carefully examine, wash, and dress her wounds. Casey does not speak, Her throat is burned and harsh with the smoke. She eventually drops into unconsciousness again.
After his initial once-over, the doctor turns from Casey and looks at both Anita and Harry. His expression is grave, but professional.
"I really think it's best if you two step out for a minute, or at least, that the lady does. This isn't going to be pretty."
"What? What's wrong? Is she going to be alright?" Anita's voice is strained and panicky. She tries to approach Casey, but the doctor stops her with a gentle hand.
"Nothing's wrong except she's just been lying in a burning building for too long, and I need to look closer at some of her more serious burns, namely, the ones on her face and back and legs. Please, Ms. Romero. I really wish you'd step out for this."
His words are gentle and coaxing and Anita reluctantly leaves the room, her parting words the remains of her fight to stay.
"Harry, if anything starts to go seriously wrong, tell me. I know her better than anyone, and she knows me."
Once Anita has left the room and the doctor sees that the door is shut, he turns to Harry with weary eyes, and gives a heavy sigh.
"How is she? Really?" Harry says dryly.
"Well, she could be dead but to be honest, it's not good son. Not good at all." The doctor turns back to Casey who lays on the table, still out cold, but breathing. He carefully turns her head with his fingers so the unburnt half of her face is pressed against the cool metal of the table. He puts on his glasses, and gently prods the skin right on her cheekbone, just below her eye.
"For one, I can't seem to get this eye open. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut into the lid to see if it's even still any good."
Harry's stomach does a backflip. He is uncomfortable around gore, and only manages to keep from running out of the room right then and there by reminding himself of Anita's words to watch over Casey.
The doctor sighs again, and lights several more candles to illuminate his workspace better. He rolls back his sleeves, picks up a small knife, and makes a quick, shallow incision into her eyelid. On the table, Casey groans from the depths of her unconsciousness, but does not wake up.
Harry can tell that whatever the doctor sees does not please him in the slightest. He straightens from his examination of Casey's eye, and speaks in an authoritative tone.
"Mr. Maxwell, I'm going to need your assistance temporarily." Harry takes a nervous step forward, his stomach now twisting into full knots.
"Yessir."
"I'm going to need you to hold her down with everything you've got. She's going to wake up from what I'm about to do, and is going to kick like hell."
"What are you about to do?"
"Her left eye is dead. The heat strained the eye, and it is now terribly damaged. The body will soon stop sending blood to it, and it will begin to rot and cause an imbalance in her four fluids which would lead to death. It needs to be removed. "
Harry can taste vomit in his mouth, so he doesn't dare reply. Instead, he walks around to where Casey's midriff is, and holds onto her with everything he's got.
"It's imperative that you hold her and don't let up for anything. Remember, if the eye is not removed immediately, she will get an infection and will die. You're saving her life for the second time tonight."
And with those final words, the doctor stoops over Casey's face, and begins the operation. Ten seconds in, Casey is, indeed, kicking like hell. Harry has a very hard time holding her down as she is surprisingly strong for her condition, and he is trying to avoid putting too much pressure on her more badly burned patches.
At one point, the doctor stuffs a rag into her mouth to keep her from biting her tongue off, and to dull the screams against Anita's ears. The animal sounds of pain and terror emitting from Casey make Harry want to scream himself. To tell her to shut up. To stop scaring him and Anita. To wake up and be OK again.
Ten minutes into the operation, and Harry feels Casey go limp. He is thankful that she passed out again, and doesn't have to suffer the pain. At least, right at this moment.
The doctor finishes the procedure by packing the empty socket with clay, and sews her eyelid shut over it. When he has finished, Harry has to say that he seems to have done a very thorough job.
The doctor cleans up the little blood there was, and carefully wipes down Casey's face with a cool, damp cloth. He checks her pulse, nods to himself, and then flops down on the sole chair in the room, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"I haven't had to do that in quite some time, and the last time was only the first."
Harry just nods, feeling a little faint himself. The doctor gestures towards the door.
"You two take her somewhere she can rest. You got a relation or a friend you can go to?"
"Yeah. I have a friend, Gibbs and his wife, who'll let us stay at least until Casey's healed."
The doctor nods in approval.
"She needs rest. Make sure she gets it. Clean her wounds and change her bandages often. Put oil and lime-water liniment on it. Wash the burns, at least. She seems like she hit her head pretty hard as well. I don't know what to make of that, but I'm sure you'll find out if anything comes of it soon enough. Wash that eye, too. Her throat has blisters in it, so you might see some blood every now and then. Don't worry about that either. They'll heal up. She busted her nose too, although it looks like it was broken at least one other time before. Anyhow, that's not the biggest thing to worry about right now."
The doctor sighs and shakes his head again. "She's tough. I think she just might be alright so long as she gets her rest and plenty of food and drink, but don't count on it. If she does survive, well, she'll have several scars from the worst burns."
Harry nods, and walks over to Casey. He feels numb, almost like the alcohol the doctor poured on Casey's wounds got poured on his head too. The doctor stands suddenly, and walks over to a cupboard. He pulls out two small brown bottles and hands them to Harry.
"Give her some of this when the pain gets bad, as it will. No more than a teaspoon full in two hours though. And remember, lots of oil on the burns."
Harry nods again, and carefully scoops up Casey in his arms, trying to avoid the bandages covering her worst burns. She's heavy, and nearly his size but he finds that right now, he feels like he could carry a mountain with ease.
Anita looks up when he enters the room with Casey. Her face is pale and tear-streaked. Her hands tremble as she stands and quickly walks over to meet them.
"Is she alright? I heard someone screaming andâ€"oh my god. Her eye! What happened!"
Anita gingerly stretches out a hand, and holds it just above where Casey's left eye used to be.
"Oh my god." Anita whispers again, drawing her hand back.
"We're going to Gibbs'. The doctor says she needs to rest, but she'll probably live."
"He...took out her eye. He just...the pain. I can't imagineâ€" no morphine."
"She was unconscious for most of it, and the doctor tried to go as fast as he could."
Anita kisses Casey lightly on the forehead.
"She doesn't know, does she?"
Harry just shakes his head.
Outside the doctor's office, Huckleberry stands alert, tethered to a hitching post. He picks up his head when Harry and Anita appear in the doorway, Harry still carrying Casey.
"Get up on Huckle and I'll hand her up to you. Do you think you can hold her for the ride to Gibbs'?"
"Yes." Anita climbs on Huckleberry's back and helps Harry lift Casey into the saddle in front of her. Anita supports Casey and Harry leads Huckleberry at a slow walk down the street in the direction of Gibbs' house.
As they ride, Anita can't help but think how wrong this is. Casey is weak and shaking so badly, Anita has to fight to keep her upright in the saddle. She is bitterly reminded of the night when she had jumped off of Huckleberry, and had run down the road, afraid of not Casey, but her own actions around Casey. Afraid of what people would think. Afraid of what they would say. Afraid for the saloon. Feeling Casey's limp weight in her arms now makes her feel guilty. She's suffered so much just so I can have everything go alright for myself. She was even going to die…
They reach Gibbs' house, and Harry approaches the door. He knocks feverishly, and a short, pot bellied man answers, still looking a little sluggish from sleep.
"Harry? S'at you?"
"Yes, and I've brought Ms. Romero and Ms. Long with me. Ms. Long's in bad shape. The fire…"
Gibbs shoots awake.
"All that commotion was the saloon? Dad above, the saloon's burnt? I'm so terribly sorry. I've frequented there for years."
Harry grows impatient. "Yes, sadly it's true. Now we've got nowhere to stay, and the doctor says Ms. Long needs rest. She's been burnt up pretty bad."
"Well, wait no longer! I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting. Come! Come! She can have me and the Mrs' room."
Harry ties Huckleberry up, and lifts Casey down. She is lucid enough to emit slurred protests and cries of pain. Harry supports her on one side while Anita helps on the other and together, they help drag-walk Casey into the house and into bed in Gibbs' own room. His wife, just waking up herself, stands in a state of partial shock in the corner while she watches a complete strangerâ€" with severe burns and an eye removed, be helped into the bed where she had been sleeping contentedly not two minutes before.
"Erm, Gibbs? Who'se this?"
Gibbs, rushing to get a bowl of cool water and a cloth, answers her briskly.
"Casey Long. The girl who helps out at Anita's saloon. It burned down, and now she's in bad shape. They've nowhere to go, now, go and make yourself useful by getting something for our guests to drink. Coffee? Whiskey? Water, perhaps?"
Mrs. Gibbs walks numbly out of the room to fetch drinks. Gibbs pulls up a chair for Anita next to the bed. She gets the cloth wet from the bowl, and begins to carefully clean the blood from Casey's face. Mrs. Gibbs comes back into the room, carrying a pot of coffee and serves them.
"Is there anything else we can do for you? Please, don't hesitate to ask. You've just lost a lot. "
"No, you've done enough already. Thank you."
Gibbs nods, and he leaves the room with his wife. Harry looks to Anita, and then to Casey, who lies under the sheets, pale and breathing shallowly. The socket where her eye used to be, weeps clear fluid and has turned an angry red. The damaged side of her face is beginning to swell.
"She's sure been through it. What happened back there?"
Anita shakes her head, and puts down the cloth, turning to Harry.
"There was a man, Hadley, that Casey knew from a while ago. He had it out for her because she offended him or hurt him, I'm not entirely sure. He came by to try and set things straight." Anita breaks off, and doesn't continue for a moment.
"Casey came in from out back, and saw that he was..."
"He was what?" Harry's tone is serious, and he looks at Anita with a new kind of clarity, as if he's seeing her in more detail. Anita can't meet his eyes.
"That he had let himself in, and was wanting to talk to her." Harry makes an unbelieving nose in his throat, but lets Anita continue.
"They got into a fight. He threw her on the ground and began to hit her head on the ground. Harry, he was going to kill her. I tried to stop him, and that's when he turned on me."
"Anita, why didn't you tell me this earlier."
She ignores this, and rushes on with her narrative. While she appreciates his concern, she knows Harry will blame Casey for this. Despite how much he cares for them both, he has still always been wary of Casey and a dangerous man tracking her back to the saloon would simply confirm that Casey was more trouble than she was worth in his mind.
"Casey saw that he was now interested in me, and she grabbed a lantern and hit him over the head with it. He was killed instantly, and then the fire started. I was unable to walk on my own, so Casey tried to drag me out of the saloon. She could only make it to where you found her before she collapsed. Harry, she tried so hard to save me. She was ready to die just to make sure I would get out. I...it should have been me. I should be lying in bed missing an eye right now. I should be the one to wake up and feel all that pain Casey's going to feel."
Harry is angry and sad now. He grabs Anita by the shoulders. She sees tears in his eyes.
"Anita, I don't want you to ever say that again. In fact, Iâ€"" He lets go of Anita, and leans back on his heels, kneeling on the ground by Casey's body. He sighs tiredly, and runs his hands through his hair.
"Look. You've got people who care about you. You've got customers who respect you, and genuinely think you're a fine shopkeep. I care about you. If that was you," Harry points to Casey. "Well. I don't know what a lot of people would do but they'd miss you like hell. And Casey, well. She's only got you to miss her. Now, I ain't sayin' that isn't enough, but I'm just reminding you that you've got a lot of people out there whoâ€""
In the bed, Casey makes a half wheezing, half whining sound and settles again. Anita looks back at Harry, cold steel in her voice.
"Are you sayin' that Casey ain't worth a damn? That since she's killed, and cheated, and lied, and hurtâ€" that she deserves what she got? She's got no one out there, except for me. Well, everyone else can go to hell so long's I've got her. I didn't expect you, of all people, to be the one to say this to me."
Harry regrets his words.
"I didn't meanâ€"Anita, all I was trying to say was that you don't want what's happened to Casey to have happened to you."
"No, but still I meant every word I said. She saved my life, and all she got was the shit beat out of her, an eye taken out, and half her skin burnt up."
Harry opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. He just shakes his head and leaves the room to go join the Gibbs' outside on the porch, and maybe walk to the remains of the saloon later to see if anything survived.
Anita sits by Casey's side, and cools her feverish forehead with the damp cloth. She whispers stories to Casey from their travels together. Relates the story of the Harlsons, and of seeing the beautiful ceiling of the Union Station for the first time ever. How they had laughed about how San Dimas could fit inside, and had pointed out the spot for each building in the town in the station. Anita promises Casey that if she just pulls through, then they'll go back to Union Station, and see the ceiling again.
Outside, the sun is beginning to rise. The stars fade, and the traffic picks up its rhythmic rattling and trotting for the day. Anita senses a change in Casey's breathing. Soon after, she opens her remaining eye, and looks numbly around the room.
"Casey? It's Anita. How are you feeling?" She feels stupid after she finishes speaking, but she doesn't know what else to say.
Casey doesn't answer. Instead she raises a heavily bandaged hand to her face, and touches the area just below her left eye. Confusion shows on her face. She slowly brings her fingers up to the stitches holding her left eyelid down, and quickly draws them back, wincing. She turns her head to Anita, who almost starts crying at the look of fear and confusion and pain flashing across Casey's face.
Casey's voice is harsh and is so quiet, Anita almost can't hear her.
"Wâ€"hhat?"
Anita smiles, brushing at her eyes, and takes Casey's hands in her own, squeezing them gently.
"There was a fire andâ€" you got burnt up pretty bad. Your eye had to be taken out."
Casey turns away from Anita, and just stares at the ceiling for a moment. Then, she speaks in that harsh, raspy, quiet voice again.
"It was Hadley, wasn't it."
"Yes."
"Is he dead?"
Anita can't help but laugh a little at this. "Quite. You hit him over the head with a lantern, and I think that did him in but the fire finished him off for sure."
Casey nods, and closes her eye, shoulders relaxing again.
"Do you want anything? Something to drink?"
Casey shakes her head gingerly, like it hurts more than she can take, and Anita lets her fall asleep.
Thirty minutes later, Harry comes back quietly into the room. He shuts the door softly behind him. He is carrying Casey's black hat. Anita looks at it in disbelief.
"But her hat was in her room. How did it survive the fire?"
Harry shakes his head, and sets the hat (upside down) on the table next to Casey.
"I don't know, most of the whole saloon burnt down. I guess some of the guest rooms were better off, but it's still amazing it's here. I mean, just the brim is a little singed, but that's all."
"It's Sundance. I swear it." Anita whispers, and Harry looks at her inquisitively.
"What?" Anita shakes her head, dispelling the question. "Nothing. It's just amazing that it's alright. She'll be so happy. Thank you."
"And I'm sorry for what I said earlier."
"Me too."
Harry nods to Casey. "She woke up yet?"
"Uh-huh. She was awake enough to realize about her eye."
"Does she remember anything?"
"I can't tell. She asked if it was Hadley, so that part might be a little foggy for her, but she seemed confused about a lot of things. I think she'll remember more once she fully wakes up."
"Yeah. Suppose so."
"How was the rest of the saloon?" Anita realizes she hadn't thought about how the saloon had fared through all of this. Harry had said that most of the guest rooms had been better than the bar room, but what did that mean?
"If you're asking if we'll be able to go back to business, well, I don't think that's going to happen."
Anita feels a pit drop in her stomach.
"Oh. What about the money? Could we rebuild?"
Harry shakes his head sadly. "It's gone. Except for the little your father put in the bank, but that's barely enough to live off of for more than a week let alone build a new saloon."
Anita nods, and bows her head, kneading the towel in her hands.
"Anita, I'm sorry. It's gone."
Anita turns to Casey, and takes one of her hands. "You hear that, Casey? The saloon's gone. We can go after coaches and maybe even trains now. We can...can..." She sniffs, and Harry leaves the room, letting her cry in privacy.