Snowed In(manxman)

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

The streets of Caudilltown were slick with snow, ice and mud as Turner made his way down them on Bernice’s back. The sun was beginning its downward descent in the sky and Will knew it had be going on two in the afternoon. If he got the medicine quickly and he and Bernice made good time on the return trip, they might just beat hard dark.

Turner pulled up on the reigns as when they approached the doc’s fancy medicine shop that boasted of having all the best elixirs and cures this side of the Mississippi river.

He didn’t worry about hitching Bernice up to the post. That horse had been by his side for sixteen years and he knew she wasn’t about to run away from him now.

Turner stepped into the warm shop and pulled off his hat and gloves as he approached the counter. Ringing the brass bell that sat there, he waited on someone to come out and assist him. Doctor Rawling’s son, Timothy, came in from the back and he smiled broadly at the sight of Turner, “Well look what the cat drug in!” he drawled slowly. “It seems even a blizzard can’t keep the riffraff out of town.”

Turner didn’t respond to the man’s goading. He had always had a hatred for Timothy Rawling. The man was his age, or a few years younger, and had been a pain in Turner’s ass since he’d moved up on that mountain. Turner usually only came to town every couple of months but Timothy made sure to get in his smart remarks in every single time.

“I need to purchase some things,” Turner replied. “Where is your pa?”

“Busy,” Timothy bent down and rested his elbows on the heavy oak counter, “What’s the matter, Turner? Is your mare sick? How will your lonely heart survive without that flea bitten old hag? You’ll have to find some other farm critter to keep your bed warm.”

“Your hot air knows no limits, does it, Timothy?” Turner questioned dryly.

Timothy’s beady little blue eyes narrowed, “Don’t be getting smart, mountain man.” Timothy’s gaze went behind Turner, “Hey where’s that hound of yours? Did it finally meet its fate under the hooves of a horse on the road?”

Turner shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, “No, and if you ever try to kill my dog again, Timothy, I’ll put a bullet in your head myself. I’ve killed men for much less.”

Timothy just laughed softly, “So what is you’re needing, Turner?”

“I need something for cough and something for fever.”

“You don’t look sick, who’s this for?” Timothy asked, not raising up from his lounged position.

Turner felt eyes on the back of his head and moved to the side as he turned. His fist clenched when he saw Thompson Caudill flanked by two of his lap dogs, Jasper and Creedence. Jasper was tall and lanky and lacked a brain between his ears while Creedence was short, stocky and never said much of anything but always seemed to be thinking.

“I thought that was your horse outside, Turner. What brings you off the mountain today?”

Before Turner could respond, Timothy spoke, “He’s getting some medicine, Thompson. Apparently he needs something for cough and fever.”

Thompson frowned and stroked his mustache, “You don’t seem sick, Turner. I thought you lived alone.”

Turner didn’t respond for a moment. He simply stood there and stared Thompson down. He’d never much cared for Thompson but he hadn’t felt any real dislike or hate for the man either. Thompson was a man who had done anything and everything to gain the power he had and continued to do anything and everything to keep it.