The Bride

Chapter 2 - Confessions

Amos Howard closed his worn leather bag and stood up from beside the bed in his tiny office, weary eyes seeking those of the elderly woman sitting on the other side. His face was serious and looked almost diabolical in the flickering light of the oil lamp.

"Running out of oil, Margaret; don't leave yourself in the dark if you're stayin' here long."

"I can manage that alright, Amos. What about this young woman?"

"The injuries are superficial; I put a small dressing on them, they'll heal up okay. I also gave her something to help keep her calm. The shock of what she did might take a lot longer."

"Don't you mean what was done to her, Amos?"

"Okay, Margaret," Amos sighed defeat. "Thing is, she now needs a place to stay 'til she can move on."

"I'll talk to Ryan; we might be able to find a small room at the hotel for a short time."

"Good, good. Well, I'm going to give my report to the sheriff then get a large drink to wash down my distaste about this whole mess."

Margaret pulled the blanket up to Allison's chin and turned down the jittering light.

"Just make sure it's a report, Amos and not your opinion." She shooed the doctor out the door and returned to the bedside, her face pinching in sympathy struggling with an image of the horror the young woman experienced.

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Nathan Tessler's chair squeaked and he rocked it back and forth, a silly feeling of pleasure from the sound, when Doc Howard entered the office. He watched with amusement at the familiar ritual that took place before each of their conversations. The silver flask appeared from inside the coat, the top unscrewed and a short swallow followed with a loud smacking of lips.

"How's your patient, Amos?"

"Resting well enough. Margaret's with her in my office. He dropped his bag on the desk and pulled up the only other chair from beside the small stove. "She's going to see about a spot in the hotel. What are you going to do about her?"

"Might depend on your opinion, Doc."

"Report, Sheriff, report. Don't say opinion in front of Margaret." He sat forward, arms on his thighs and turned serious. "First off, she wasn't uhm- assaulted- I mean . . . you know what I mean. He's her husband so it wouldn't be called rape."

"Even if it was?"

"They're married, Nathan!"

"Not officially, Doc." The fact hung silently between them. "What about the wounds and her story about how it happened."

"Sounded perfectly reasonable. The chest scratches and the torn top, several bruises from falling and wrestling . . . his were worse."

"You could say that, since he's dead."

Amos frowned and got up, retrieving his bag. "Margaret's goin' to try and get her a room at the hotel 'til she's on her feet- shouldn't be too long."

"Thanks, Doc, I'll check on her later and see how she's doin'. Gotta speak to Harley about keeping Wellman on ice 'til I do. I want to check on his cabin tomorrow too, see if there's any money or papers havin' to do with his property and this marriage thing."

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Nathan saw the two men come out of the cabin and step apart. A third was walking slowly from the stable out back. He reined in about twenty feet short of the pair and leaned on his saddle horn. Their behaviour signaled quite clearly they were not ranchers.