Meleah's Western Part 5

Okay, Meleah asked me enough questions.:) Since I now have a good start on the story, and know, for the most part, what happens, I will no longer be waiting for Meleah. She gave me the inspiration I needed for this story and we'll see how it goes from here. If anyone now has questions about the story, let me know. Comments are also encouraged as I have a tendency to write only when I know someone is eagerly waiting for the next part.:} Sorry, but that is the way I am. So I guess if I haven't written another part for a while and you are just dying to know what comes next, drop me a comment or an email. But now, I wonder if anyone read this first or if they just skipped to the story coming back to this after.

But I'll delay no longer. Enjoy!

Part 5

Ty was across the room in an instant, gun in readiness as Carson, with his rifle in his hands cautiously approached the door.
“Ty!” Sally gasped out in terror. “Don’t go out there! Don’t!” She had sprung up from her seat and now gripped her brother’s arm tightly with all the strength she had. “They said they’d be back. Oh, Ty!” Though her voice was low, it was full of fear, and she trembled.
Ty glanced down at her then back to the bed. The sick man slept on undisturbed.
“Stay with Pa,” he ordered softly. “I’ll be careful--”
“Ty,” Carson answered the pleading look Sally had given him before she turned slowly toward the bed, quivering in every limb. “If it was them, I reckon we’d ‘ave heard more’n jest one shot. Ya jest wait on guard right here, ‘n I’ll check things out.”
“Carson, I can’t let you do that. It’s me they’re after. They must’a known I’d be back with Pa so sick. I’ll go out an’ you can wait here.”
The younger man moved a step toward the door, but Carson stepped in front of him.
“Tain’t no use, Ty. My mind’s made up. Ya stay here. I’ll give the usual signal if’n I want ya.” And before Ty could protest or argue, he had pulled back the latch and slipped silently out.
For several minutes Ty stood in the deep silence listening. He couldn’t hear Carson’s steps out in the snow. Why had he allowed him to go out? What would he find? Would he even be able to give the signal if he wanted to? Just when Ty could stand the strain of inaction no longer, the door opened noiselessly, and Carson glided back in.
“What did ya see?” Ty questioned.
Carson shook his head with a slight smile. “I reckon we’re as jumpy as a rabbit in a fox’s den. That weren’t more’n a branch snappin’ under the weight of snow. Large branch too. Recon it’ll make right good firewood.”
Ty let his breath out in a long sigh. “I reckon I am nervous. Ain’t been back here since the trouble. If’n they catch wind I’m back--” he shook his head, leaving his sentence unfinished, and holstered his gun once more.
A stifled sob reached his ears, and he turned quickly. Sally, kneeling by the bed with her face buried in the bedclothes, was crying. With soft steps Ty moved to her side.
“Sally,” he whispered, “tain’t nothin’ to be ‘fraid of now. Carson found it was jest an old branch broke.” He stroked her hair awkwardly.
“I ain’t cryin’ fer that,” came the muffled response.
“Then what are ya crying for?”
“I . . . I reckon its jest, oh jest fer everythin’. Ya know I ain’t one ta cry much.” She lifted her face wet with tears and looked at him. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but Ty,” her eyes showed the panic she tried to hide. “Promise me you’ll be mighty careful. They’ll find out you’re here and then . . ..”
Ty nodded. “I’ll be careful. I promise ya that. I aim ta keep as quiet as possible. No use askin’ fer more trouble when we got enough on our hands.”
All fell silent. Sally allowed Ty to help her to her feet and then to the chair by the bed. Carson sat before the fire with his back to the brother and sister, and though he could hear every word exchanged, he tried not to intrude more than he could help.

“Sally.” The sick man roused from his sleep once more and opened his eyes.
“Yes, Pa.”
“Is that my son? Is that Ty?”
“Yes, Pa.”
A smile lit the old man’s face. “She told me you’d be comin’. Ty . . .”
Ty sat down on the bed. “Yes, Pa.”
“Ya will find her, won’t ya?”
Ty nodded but before he could ask any of the many questions that burned on the tip of his tongue, his father spoke again.
“I knew ya wouldn’t . . . fail me.” The voice was feeble and low. “In . . . the pouch. . . on my watch guard. Son, get it.”
Ty opened the pouch and poured the contents into his hand. His father’s watch gleamed in the dim light. On the watch guard Ty found a small gold heart. It appeared to be part of a locket, a broken one. There was no picture. He held it in his hand.
“Is this it, Sir?”
The father looked. “Yes, Ty. It was . . . hers . . . but I . . . kept this. It . . . should help . . .. Ty.”
“Yes, Pa?”
“You never knew her, . . . but . . . in the Good Book . . ..” The sick man closed his eyes. His breath was scarcely discernible.
“Pa!” Ty’s voice was insistent. “What is in the Good Book?”
“The picture . . .” His lips moved, but no sound was heard.
Ty bent over him, his ear almost touching his lips and heard the words, “Take care . . . of . . . yer . . . sisters.”
Ty sat up with a start. He glanced at Sally. She seemed not to notice his sudden agitation, for all her attention was focused on her father.
For a full minute no one stirred. Then with one great apparent effort, the father’s eyes opened once more, and his voice sounded with a sudden strength.
“Ty will do what I couldn’t. I am going home!” There was an exultant ring to his voice as he uttered the last word, and a smile broke full across his face. His gaze was on something unseen by human eyes.
Ty and Sally sat in awed silence staring at the transformed and now lifeless face on the pillow. Neither of them spoke. It seemed a sacrilege to break the silence.

To be continued . . . sometime.