THE HAND OF GOD

PART FIFTEEN:

She'd found him a stick, a good length and with a bit of a crook at one end for his hand. The sun was out and the wind had died down as they set out together. There'd been an old Winchester hanging on a wall in the cabin and Elizabeth had come across a tin of bullets for it some weeks ago. She was bundled to her neck again, the shawl over her head, the rifle slung over one shoulder as she held onto Ben with her other arm. He was quite amused at the sight of her with the gun, but she'd insisted on carrying it because he needed to use the stick to help himself walk. She'd bound rags around and around his ankle for support and he was managing better than either of them had expected.

"I think it's warming a bit," she commented as they sloshed through a wide patch of melting snow.

"'Bout time," he nodded. "I ain't never been all that fond of snow."

"Sometimes we'd get so much of it back in Pennsylvania. Made everything so white and clean."

The melting snow around them now was mixed with mud and globs of sandy soil and they set their faces grimly to make their way through it with as little damage to their footwear as possible. Getting his boot back on over the ankle wrappings had not been an easy task and he

felt the tightness of it with every step. Still, between the boot and the rags, his ankle wasn't folding up on him like it had before.

"I don't want you to walk too far," Elizabeth stated. "There might be a rabbit or two over there." She pointed to a small ravine, thick with scrub. "Maybe I could go in and scare one

out toward you?"

"We'd be damn lucky to find a rabbit out in the open with the weather this cold, LizzieBess. Guess it won't hurt to try." He propped himself against a big rock, taking the rifle from her. "You be careful now."

She grinned back at him over her shoulder as she disappeared behind a tall bush. He cocked the rifle, waiting, not liking having her out of his sight.  After a few minutes, he heard something further back in the ravine and straightened, balancing most of his weight on his left leg. Horses?
A bolt of fear for Elizabeth shot through him and he took several steps forward without his cane,wobbled, and was about to fall to his knees when a rider broke through the brush.

"Oh, God!" he whispered. "Apaches!"

The Indian was followed by seven more, all adult males.  One of them had dismounted and was walking, herding Elizabeth roughly along in front of himself. Another swayed on his horse, supported by a man on either side. The group stopped when they spotted Ben, who no longer able to stand without his cane, dropped slowly to his knees. The Indian in the lead raised his rifle. Elizabeth screamed, "NO!" and pulled away from the man who had hold of her arm. He
grabbed her skirt, sending her sprawling. A bullet plowed into the ground two inches out from Ben's knee, sending a small spurt of dirt up along his thigh.

All Ben could see was Elizabeth, struggling to get up, her skirt still in an Indian's grip. His right hand tightened on the Winchester as he calculated how many shots he might be able to get off. Everything was interrupted by a loud shout from another of the men who had been more to the rear. Ben heard his name spoken as part of a sentence in Apache. He understood some of the language, enough to get by when he'd needed, but not enough to catch what had just been said.

The speaker rode out from the rest, reining in just in front of Ben. "You here, Wade?"

Ben looked up at the rider, squinting against the sun. "Tommy? That you, Tommy?"

The Indian dismounted, squatting. "You Man-In-Dirt now, Wade?" He grinned, amused at his own joke.

Ben was not amused. "Don't hurt her," he said, keeping his voice firm. "Don't harm the woman."

"Woman why we come," Tommy replied, looking over his shoulder at Elizabeth. "Need healer."

Ben remembered that Elizabeth had said she'd taken care of some medical needs for the Indians. But this was a hunting party of young bucks, not a sick child or a pregnant mother. "Who...?"

Tommy pointed toward the man now almost bent double on his horse. "Greyfeather fall down mountain. Chief's son. Woman heal."  He helped Ben stand.

Ben leaned against the Indian pony, looking from the injured man to Elizabeth, his mind racing. "Where?" he asked.

"There!" Tommy pointed back in the direction of the hut.

Ben sighed. Of course the Apache would be aware of the shack, of the presence of the woman. He still had the Winchester in his hand when another Indian slid off his horse, snatching it away. Tommy turned, speaking in rapid Apache to the others, who headed toward the hut, Elizabeth still being hustled along. As she passed Ben, he whispered, "Do what you can. Cooperate with what they ask you. I'll be right there." He pressed his lips tightly together, hobbling back to the rock to fetch his make-shift cane. Tommy walked with him, leading his pony.

"Wade old now?" Tommy indicated the stick. Ben was in no mood for conversation. All he wanted was to keep Elizabeth in sight and she was getting too far ahead.

By the time he and Tommy arrived at the hut, Greyfeather had been laid on the pallet and Elizabeth was warming water to wash away the blood from his torso so she could better determine just how he'd been injured. Ben went to Elizabeth, touching her arm reassuringly, then had to sit on the chair.  As she knelt beside the pallet, wiping at the blood, Ben's eyes traveled the room, taking stock of the grim faces of the other Indians who were watching every move Elizabeth made. After a few minutes she turned, looking at Ben gravely. "He's lost a lot of blood from a long cut on his ribs, but I think he must be terribly injured inside." She shook her head. "I don't think he's going to make it, Ben."

Tommy was able to catch most of her words. "You try, woman. You try fix good."

 
She'd managed to stop the bleeding, but the young Indian kept twisting on the pallet, obviously in great pain. There was nothing Elizabeth could do, not even make him comfortable. She had

no medicines for pain.

Tommy looked down at Ben. "Not good Greyfeather die. Father angry."  He turned his head briefly looking into the fire, remembering other deaths.

Ben remembered them, too. He'd known Broken Tomahawk for several years, had met him and his family at a trading post and been quite taken with his youngest boy. He'd encountered the Indian four, maybe five times since, calling him Tommy Hawk. Then he'd heard Tommy's family had been part of Byron McElroy's massacre. Tommy's wife and three children had all been shot down as they scrambled to get away through a small gully.  Ben looked up at Tommy's suddenly strained face. "McElroy's dead," he said softly.

Tommy shot a piercing glance at Ben, his hands clenching and unclenching at the name.

"How?"

"Last week. I threw him off a cliff."

"You?"

"Yeah. The man needed killin'."

"Good."  Tommy's mouth was a grim line. Then he looked at Ben again, a tired appreciation in his eyes and nodded. Ben nodded back, then returned his attention to Elizabeth. Greyfeather was moaning loudly now.

"It not go well for woman Greyfeather die," Tommy commented.

Ben closed his eyes. That was what he was afraid of.  "She let Greyfeather die, she die," Tommy continued. He put a hand on Ben's shoulder. "She your woman, Wade?"

Ben opened his eyes, running a lingering look over Elizabeth's form, loving every line of it. "She is," he murmured. "Yes."

"I let you leave, Wade. Payment for McElroy die. But Greyfeather die, woman die."

The injured Indian's moans were growing fainter. Ben indicated he wished Tommy to squat beside the chair so they could speak without being overheard. He talked a mixture of English, using Apache when he could, to explain what he wanted. When he finished, Tommy stared into his eyes a long time, then nodded sharply and stood, not looking at Ben again for the half hour

it took Greyfeather to stop breathing.

Elizabeth, not realizing the consequences, was still stricken by the young Indian's death. She bowed her head, saying a brief prayer for him, then looked at Ben, shocked by the look in his eyes. "Ben...?" she started to rise to come to him, but two of the other Indians grabbed her

arms and hauled her to her feet.

Ben said nothing, just looked at Tommy, then back at her. Tommy went quickly across the room, speaking to the other men, pointing at Elizabeth then at Ben, speaking rapidly and Ben was only able to catch the name McElroy out of all that was said. There seemed to be some sort of argument from a couple of them, but in the end there were assenting grunts.

While they were talking, Elizabeth had been able to get to Ben, had knelt in front of him, putting her arms around his waist. He stroked her hair. "It'll be all right, LizzieBess. You'll see. You'll be all right," he soothed.

She tipped her chin way up, staring into his eyes. They were so filled with so many things she couldn't tell what he was thinking. But she saw love there and that was what she needed. When their discussion was over, Tommy came and slid both hands under her arms, trying to lift her

to her feet. "No," she protested, refusing to release her grip on Ben. "Ben! What's going on?"

A sudden terror washed over her.

"Greyfeather die," Tommy said, his voice flat. "Chief demand life in payment."

Her eyes flew wide. They were going to kill her! She hadn't been able to save the man and so they were going to kill her in return. She looked wildly at Ben. What was wrong with him? He simply sat there, his lips curved in a small, sad smile, and touched the back of his hand to her cheek. "Oh, God! BEN! DO something!"

He didn't move more than that, though. Her mouth squared in disbelief. He was going to sit there and let them kill her. He'd tried to tell her he was a self-absorbed son of a bitch, hadn't he?  Her heart was racing as panic took complete control. Tommy managed to get her to her feet, mostly because she was so horrified at Ben's response that she'd let go of him, nearly recoiled from him. "Ben...please!" she begged. "Help me!"  But he sat rigid as Tommy dragged her out the door, half-fainting in terror made worse by disappointment so great she couldn't comprehend its depth.

Tommy practically tossed her up on Greyfeather's pony. They...they were going to take her somewhere? Kill her someplace else? She swayed, clenching her fingers through the horse's black mane. Tommy had Ben's saddlebag, too, and slung it across in front of Elizabeth.

He looked back at the door of the hut as the other Indians walked through with Ben. Ben checked, making sure the saddlebag was on the horse with Elizabeth, then nodded to Tommy, who swung himself onto his own pony, gathering the rope of Greyfeather's into his hand.

Elizabeth stared blankly at Ben a long moment then closed her eyes, not sure she could bear

the sight of him. When one of the Indians yelled suddenly and wildly, she blinked and looked back toward the hut. The flat edge of a tomahawk slammed into the middle of Ben's back, sending him to his knees. Her mouth dropped open. Oh, God...no! Sudden understanding washed over her just as Tommy yanked on her pony's rope and her mount trotted quickly after the leading horse.

She craned her neck, trying to see Ben. He lifted his head and for one brief second she saw his eyes, saw in them what he wanted her to know.

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