Coldwater Creek

Chapter 2

I stood quietly in the spare bedroom above the General Store watching Daniel Knight rest. Doc Faraday had patched the man up in the kitchen downstairs, but determined it would be too much of a risk to move him to his office. True to their nature my aunt and uncle had offered up their spare bedroom.

"The biggest threats we have now are infection and fever," Doc Faraday was explaining to those of us still in the room. "However, as long as we keep those bandages changed and the fever down, he should pull through just fine."

According to the doctor the three bullet wounds had missed all Mr. Knight's internals. The most serious was the one in his left leg, then the one in his right shoulder, and finally the one that grazed the side of his ribs.

"I don't want this gettin' out just yet," Sheriff Coleman spoke up, his voice weighted with seriousness as he watched his friend's unconscious form. "Whoever shot him up could be lookin' to finish what they started. Until he's well enough to be on his feet again, let's just keep what happened today between us."

Everyone nodded, the weight of the possible consequences weighing on our shoulders.

"If Miss Hunter stays with us, it would make a good explanation for why the doctor was always visitin'," Aunt Hattie spoke up.

Sheriff Coleman nodded. "I think that's a good idea, Mrs. Franklin."

Aunt Hattie ushered us all back downstairs to the dining room for some dinner.

The thunderstorm lasted late into the night as I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Moving quietly, as to not disturb Clara's sleep, I slipped out of bed and crept across the floor, the wood cold under my bare feet.

The man's features were far from peaceful as he lay in unconsciousness. I imagined he couldn't be much older than Joshua. His tousled chestnut hair fell back from his forehead. I supposed his skin would typically be a rich tan, but now it had a sickly pallor to it.

I frowned, brushing the back of my fingers across the top of his forehead. He was burning up. Carefully, I took a washcloth from the small basin next to the bed, wrung it out, and dabbed it across his exposed skin.

Lightning crackled outside and I looked up, startled. Returning my attention back to my patient, I found a pair of intense grey eyes staring back at me.

"Mr. Knight?" I asked, quietly.

"I killed him," he stated simply.

"What?" I asked, baffled.

"Casey Rose. I shot him where he stood," he tried to sit up.

My blood chilled at the name.

"Mr. Knight, you've been shot," I said, gently pushing him back down onto the bed.

He groaned in pain and tried to sit up again.

"Mister, please," I plead, once again gently forcing him to return to a resting position. "You aren't well. Please go back to sleep."

"I guess if you keep insistin'," he grumbled before losing consciousness once again.

I sighed, pushing my loose hair back from my face.

Casey Rose and his brother, Eli, ran a band of outlaws that were often spotted by ranchers who lived outside of Coldwater Creek. So far they hadn't done much in our town besides occasionally rustle cattle. Other towns, however, it was an entirely different story. The men who ran with the Roses were loud, unruly gamblers who were more likely to pull their pistol than pay their tab. They stole cattle and horses for fun and started gunfights when the excitement of running from the law got dull. Many good lawmen had been lost to the Roses. Now the younger brother was dead, and the elder of the two would most certainly be on the hunt for revenge.