Unlikely Angel

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

All was quiet in the bunkhouse as was the norm for the middle of the night. Perhaps not entirely silent as Billy had a very loud snore and Cora was whimpering occasionally from where she slept in Pat’s bunk. Pat was minding the jail for the night and the rest were deep in slumber. It was near to a full moon and if one had ventured inside, they would have been able to clearly make out, not only the sleeping forms of the inhabitants but their facial features as well. The peace was all at once shattered by a shrill scream as Susan sat bolt upright and let out a wail the likes of which the men and woman within the building had scarce heard before. For her lack of expression and inflection when she spoke, the cry the girl let out now contained sorrow, pain and more fear than any of them had seen or heard in one place before. And they had all seen a lot. Without a moment’s consideration, Johnny was out of his bunk and on the edge of hers trying to bring her full to waking. While still asleep, she was screaming and he was sure he’d be deaf in one ear the next day but still he held her close and spoke softly to her.

“You’re safe Susan. Wake up and see, it’s just a dream.”

As abruptly as the noise began, it ceased and there was a collective sigh of relief from the other riders. Johnny did not relax for her silence did not mean all was well.

“Susan, are you okay?”

She heard him and wanted so desperately to answer him. To tell him of the images in her dream, to put voice to her fears, to tell him that she was not okay but might be if he just held her long enough. There was no voice to be found for her though. All she could do was shake her head. Johnny cradled her in his arms and tried to comfort her, remind her that he’d never really leave her and that she’d always be safe.

In his own mind, he wondered what good his promises were for he knew he might never be able to protect her from whatever was in her head that was torturing her so. He didn’t understand how her fear and her screams could hurt him nearly physically, but they did. He looked up imploringly for someone to give him just a hint of validation or insight or anything that might let him know if he was doing this right. His eyes happened upon Cora who nodded at him as if she had sensed his question and was letting him know that he was doing things exactly right. As he held her she grew very still and seemed to calm down so he tried to set her down but when he did she stiffened and grabbed at his neck shaking her head violently.

“Okay, I got you. I won’t let go. You want to tell me about it?”

Susan nodded but knew that no matter what she wanted, words had abandoned her for the night and nothing was going to come out.

“I’m listening, you can talk to me.”

She shook her head, signaled to her mouth and then shook her head again.

“You can’t talk, can you?”

She looked defeated and just shook her head again. Johnny wasn’t sure what to do but then he remembered when he first found her and her pictures. He hadn’t put it together before but her pictures were how she had communicated before she found her words. I was worth a try.

“Billy, could you hand me her tablet?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Can you tell me with this, Susan?”

She nodded and took up the pencil. When she finished, Johnny wanted to run out and punch something. In the image was the roof of her family’s barn as it would have been seen if someone was on his or her back looking up. It was, however, mostly obscured by a face with a leering smile wielding a gun. This would have terrorized him if it had appeared in his dreams and he wasn’t a little girl and he was furthermore not a little girl who was clearly remembering the scene. He recognized the face from the wanted posters that had been made from her drawings and another face from her drawings was also there standing behind the attacking man, laughing. It made him sick and broke his heart and made him furious all at once and there was nothing he could do really but hold the girl and swear silently that he would see these men dead. If they were tried and hanged so be it but if he had to track them down and end them himself he felt he could probably take pleasure in that. He had never felt that way before about the taking of a life—not even Braddock, the man who’d set out to kill Billy. He knew the others had their theories about that incident but he felt no joy or pleasure in the man’s death and even wished for a moment after it had happened that there had been another way, that things had not been forced to that ultimate conclusion.