[i]Collaboration between Sterling and idlehands[/i]


Benj turned at the sound Harriet’s voice, shifting his rifle in his hands, “Bill knows what he’s doing, no use to rush in without thinking. Better to be prepared than run out into a situation bare as...unprepared.”

Her brows raised slightly in something like amusement. 

He cleared his throat, “Apologies, ma’am.”

Harriet shook her head. No need to apologize, she had worked around dying men most of her life. Then they didn’t spare words nor her genteel feelings. 

He did want to go, his skills were those that would be needed even if he was a cripple his mind was still sharp enough. Tracking Apache or Comanche was not something for amateurs no matter how good they were with a gun or in a saddle, it took a keen trained eye to see the nearly invisible signs of the Indians passage. Bill had some experience but for the nearly seven years Benj was a Ranger that was what they did. In those days the Army was spread thin over the vast land and the Texas Rangers handled much of the searches. 

There was still the matter of the morphine and how to procure it without raising her concern. His thoughts were interrupted by a thin cry of the boy. Benj jerked his head, hearing the child cry out first in German then in English. 

Opening her mouth to make some sort of reply the nurse was cut off, turning immediately to the cry and hurrying back to the bedroom where the boy now sat up, panic in his face. Harriet bustled to the cot and settled herself down beside the boy, reaching for the glass of water she had put on the small table beside the cot earlier. He needed to rehydrate. 

Searching his young face Harriet didn’t know what to say. All those soothing things she would normally tell a patient were lies in this case. He wasn’t alright, things were going to get better… His family? Harriet didn’t know if they were dead or alive but the betting was on dead. 

“Here...Drink this…” She said instead. 
The boy took the cup with both hands, gulping faster than he had before. His cracked lips parted with a slight smile and he began to thank her when he promptly vomited the water back up along with the bile of his empty stomach all over Harriet’s apron. Shivering he muttered a slurred apology, hanging his head at the shame of getting sick on the kind nurse. 

The nurse smiled ruefully, shaking her head at her own folly. Of course she should have made sure the boy had something in his stomach… Silly not to have thought of that. 

“No need to be sorry… It’s not your fault you are ill…” She patted the boy's shoulder gently before reaching behind herself to untie the apron. 

She had crackers in the kitchen… Perhaps that would do. Standing Harriet balled up her apron.It would need washing. 

Benj wandered back into the office as she rushed to check on the boy.. He looked over the shelves and tugged at the drawers, some of them opening smoothly only to be filled with folded linen bandages and canisters of mysterious powders and ointments. One of the drawers was locked and he guessed it was the one with the morphine. He cursed silently, hardly noticing the sounds of retching in the other room. 

Harriet re-entered her medical room to find Mr. Ross standing at her counters, hand resting on a drawer handle. The first real frown crossed her face as she saw this and her warm brown eyes narrowed in first concern and then suspicion. 

“Might I help you with something Mr. Ross?” She asked lightly by means of introducing herself back to the room. He had clearly been in some sort of deep thought and not heard her come in. 

Holding the balled up apron covered in vomit in one hand her free one came to rest on her hip as she waited for the answer. She didn’t look cross, merely confused and half distracted about the sick boy in the back room. 

Benj dropped his hand as she walked into the room on seeing her frown. He hobbled forward, using the cabinet to prop himself up, “No, just wanted to see how the boy was doing?”

Watching his movement Harriet for the moment seem to accept that he was truly using the counter tops and drawer handles as a means to maneuver himself more swiftly. However this event would not be forgotten and at a later time the nurse would reconsider this moment with more uncertainty and less acceptance. 

“He has been ill but I think he’ll be fine…” She gestured with the dirty apron in her hand before stepping over to her table and setting it down. With a expression of dislike she started to unfold the wadded up apron, apparently needing to get something out of the pockets before washing it. 

He lied easily, his face never changing expression, “You thought about what they might bring back for you? If those folks aren’t...if they’re injured they’ll need help fast.”

Pausing in her efforts Harriet’s gaze drifted carefully to Mr. Ross. She had thought about it… But mostly she had thought they would be dead. “You think anyone will be alive?” It has been her experience that they weren’t.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he watched her handle her dirty apron and wondered where she might keep the key. It could be in a drawer but most likely the woman kept it on her, likely with the key to the office and her home. “I’m thinking I might just head out with Bill, I don’t think those Indians would be back this way. There’s the fort to consider, no doubt still a few of those blue coats there.”

“Of course Mr. Ross. You head right on your way, I’m sure they will appreciate a man of your talents…” 

The main fighting unit had been called away a week ago to chase a warband south of Laredo that had robbed a stage coach and scalped the driver and passengers. It sounded like the red evils were really on a tear and there would be no aid from the cavalry to search for the boy’s family. 

There was a sudden knock at the door and Benj moved over to open it. He jerked back as Mrs. Horton bustled through, her round flushed face aghast. “I just heard the news! Those savages are at it again. Where is that poor lamb? Bless his little heart.” 

The nurse dropped her attempts to fish something out of the pocket of the apron to smile welcomingly at Mrs. Horton. “Mrs. Horton, how nice of you to come by…” 

The reverend’s wife carried a shopping basket over one arm, her silver cross bounced on her heavy bosom. “Harriet you have to take me to him, we can pray for the souls of his family. God willing they’re in heaven right now and not in the grasp of the heathens.”

“Ah...Mrs. Horton, a kind offer but I do feel I must warn you he has had some shock and is being ill…”She nodded to the bundled up mess. “Perhaps silent prayer would be more helpful as his mind is currently…” The nurse trailed off artfully and the Reverend’s wife nodded in understanding. 

Benj cringed slightly at her words, he was certain that was not what the boy wanted to hear but he said nothing. 

“Here, just through here Mrs. Horton… I think a small snack might be in order for the boy...I doubt he’s eaten anything all day and the journey was very taxing…” Harriet showed the concerned wife through to the room with the boy, leaving Mr. Ross with the vomit. 

“I have just the thing,” Mrs. Horton patted her basket, “I was going to visit Mr. Bern as he’s been sick, well you know that of course. I brought him some broth and fresh bread but I’d be happy to give the boy some. Just dreadful...the Lord works in mysterious ways and His will is often not understood at times like this.”

She went with the nurse to see the boy and Benj let out a huff of breath. She was a woman who could talk the ears off a mule. Once they entered the room, he shuffled quietly over to the messed apron and fished around in the pockets. His fingers touched cool metal and he gripped a ring with a few keys on it. 

Glancing at the doorway, he gingerly took them out and tried the smallest one. His heart thumped as it clicked and he pulled the drawer open. Within it were glass vials all neatly labeled and syringes. He licked his lips, forcing himself not to be greedy and take all or even a full vial. There was one that had been opened and a third of it used already. He palmed it and stuck it in his pocket. Hopefully the doctor would think he had used it already and not give it much thought. 

He locked the drawer back up and slipped the keys back into the wadded up apron. It was enough to see him through until the stage arrived if he was careful and measured. After the theft, he made his way back to the doorway, checking the progress of the gathering posse. His mind was made up, he would go and damn whatever Mr. Cothran said about it.

The conversation was had and Harriet whether she really wanted to or not was apparently going out with the posse to ‘aid any souls who were not delivered to Him as swiftly as the others’ while Mrs. Horton stayed here to take care of the boy. 

It wasn’t like Harriet could argue that much, because ultimately Mrs. Horton was right. The doctor was out of town, and if there were any survivors she was the best suited to tending to them. Mrs. Horton was a good Christian woman and would by no means hurt the boy...Though her talk of heathens and praying for his family’s souls did seem a bit cruel at this exact moment. 

And so Harriet left the Reverend’s Wife and the German Boy alone in the back room, smoothing her hands over her skirts where her apron should have been and looking about. Her dark gaze lingered on the apron which looked...different than how she had left it, but when feeling in the pockets she found all of the belongings…

Mr. Ross was back at the door and preparing to leave. 

Miss Coleman found a new fresh apron, put the pencil, keys and other various goodies in the new pockets and put her sullied apron in the wash basin to soak. These tasks complete Harriet donned her bonnet and moved past Mr. Ross to leave the offices, medical pack slung in the crook of one elbow. Apparently she was coming as well. 

Benj looked over at the nurse when she exited the office, he asked warily, “Off on a sick visit?” 

Harriet shook her head. “Apparently it’s my Christian Duty to come and make sure that if there are any survivors I tend to them to the best of my abilities working in God’s graces.” Her warm brown eyes widened slightly at the thought and a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth before being hidden with a hand . 

“So I suppose you ought to come as well Mr. Ross. Mr. Cothran’s instructions were to make sure Nurse Coleman remained safe…”  Though her tone was soft and practical, there was something almost mischievous about Nurse Harriet. 

Benj took a deep breath. Bill was going to be pissed but when he looked at the nurse he could see the stubborn set of her jaw, daring him to argue. The trail of an Indian war band was no place for a woman, especially not the gentle sort, no matter how pragmatic she was. He finally nodded, “Fine, yes. He did say that. Let’s get going then, did you have a horse or did we need to fetch you one from the livery? The smith will rent them.”

“I don’t own a horse, so I suppose a rented one will do…” Harriet glanced up at the sun and then at the posse. Was it her imagination or was Mr. Ross not exactly glad to have her along? Then again Harriet wasn’t exactly glad to be going so there was that. 

“I suppose we will be heading out soon. I’ll go rent a horse and meet you with the rest Mr. Ross…” 

He waved his hand, “I’d better go with you, you can’t just grab any nag.”

Surprised he wanted to join her, Harriet nodded.

Limping along to walk beside her, he ducked to stay out of Bill’s line of sight as he spoke with some of the townsfolk. He took the reins of Lucy, the little grulla mustang and led her along. “You can ride well enough then?” 

“Enough to get along. I rode back on the farm just to get from place to place, and had more official instruction when I was trained as a nurse in the army as we traveled a great deal and needed to move quickly…” But she was obviously no horse woman, born in the saddle and happier upon a horse's back than with her own two feet. 

He tried to make small talk to take his mind off the morphine that sat heavy in his pocket, a thrum of desire for it coursing through him. Benj could wait, it wasn’t bad yet and he needed to be clear headed. Finding the balance of what he could stand from withdrawing and dosing himself was something he was used to doing by now. “I don’t know what we’ll find, it’ll likely be bad but no worse than what you’ve already seen. If we do chase them, Miss Coleman, it’ll be a longer ride than between farms and over rugged land.”

Harriet sighed. She hoped that if they did give chase they would leave her behind. Chase meant the others were dead and no need for a nurse. “I’ll try my best not to slow you down Mr. Ross…” She commented, trying to keep her voice pleasant rather than show the reluctance she felt. 

As they approached the livery, he looked over at her, “Can you shoot?”

“I do know how to operate a pistol as well as a rifle…” Another army training. “But I haven’t in some time…” She didn’t much enjoy the prospect of killing another. “Can you?” She asked, smiling at her joke. Of course he could shoot. He had been a ranger! 

“I don’t worry too much about you slowing us down, as long as you got a good horse you should be fine,” he replied, looking over the stock in the pen. Some were old and some were barn broke and lazy but there were a few promising horses. “As for shooting, I hope it doesn’t come to it but if it does, we’ll need every gun we can muster. You can reload as well, that’ll be handy.”

Harriet didn’t have a gun….Did he want her to rent one as well? 

He met her eyes briefly and muttered, “Not to mention self defense in case things go bad.”

“Of course…” 

“Mr. Roberts, we need a horse to rent,” he spoke up to the smith who was shoeing a horse. “For the lady. Something calm and hardy, and not likely to jump at the sound of a gun.”

Harriet was watching out Mr. Roberts was holding his lower back as he straightened up from shoeing the horse. Chronic back pain from constantly being bent over such or perhaps it was more? Kidney pain? her mind wandered over the possibilities before Mr. Roberts spoke and interrupted the nurses musings. 

A plain bay gelding was brought out for Harriet. A sturdy looking fellow he had the well rounded hind in and docile nature of his breed and looked with interest at Harriet as she offered  palm for him to nibble. “His name is Piqueno and he should fit you well Nurse Coleman.” Mr. Roberts assured her. 

Acquaintances made Harriet strapped her bag filled with medical supplies behind his saddle and mounted up as modestly as one could in skirts. This was not England, she would not ride side saddle but instead straddled the wide gelding in the western style tack, bunching her skirts about her legs to reduce chafing. Vanity be damned, Harriet didn’t care if she looked a bit awkward, having oozing saddles sores would be less appealing as she waddled around than riding with her legs ensconced in her skirts. 

Bonnet readjusted and the nurse was ready.