Page 89 of Native Hawk
Chapter 26
At the sound of gunfire, Catalina’s heart jabbed against her ribs with bruising force. And though desperation made her determined to protect Drew with the forty-five if need be, she was relieved when Claire took the gun from her. After all, Claire was a Californian. She was probably as handy with a gun as Catalina was with a sewing machine.
After the sixth gunshot, there was silence. Then, suddenly, someone was running toward them through the brush. Catalina pulled Claire out of the way just in time.
“Spooks!” the jailer cried as he thrashed past them. “There’s spooks in the woods!” And then he vanished into the trees.
Once he was gone, a sudden, certain misgiving filled Catalina.
Something was wrong with Drew. He was in trouble.
She hurtled down the path, hampered by her voluminous skirts, trailed by Claire.
When they finally broke into the clearing and saw Drew lying on the ground, still and silent, her worst fears were realized. Kneeling beside him with guilt written all over his face was a man who looked almost exactly like Drew—almost, but not quite.
“You!” she demanded, rushing up to him. “What did you do? What did you do to my Drew?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she responded with all the pent-up rage and grief of a woman in love. She punched Chase in the nose, sending him sprawling.
Then she heard a click. She’d forgotten about Claire and the forty-five.
“Get away from him!” Claire cried.
But Catalina was too concerned for Drew to pay heed to the blonde lady’s warnings. She dropped to her knees at Drew’s side.
He was bleeding.
He’d been shot in the chest.
She wailed, holding Drew’s hand to her breast. “Do not leave me,mio caro. Do not leave me. You promised, Drew.”
He roused with a faint murmur. “Cat?”
“You promised. Remember?” she said, her throat aching with tears. “You promised to buy me tonight.”
“Sure.” He tried to sit up, but fresh blood seeped from his wound.
“Don’t try to move,” Drew’s twin told him, groaning from the blow Catalina had given him. He struggled back onto his feet and then waggled demanding fingers at Catalina. “Your petticoats, quick. Give me your petticoats.”
“What!” Catalina wouldn’t hesitate to punch him again for his rudeness. She suspected now that Chase was nothing like his brother.
“To stop the bleeding,” he explained.
Finally understanding, she nodded and began ripping up her petticoats.
Together, the three of them managed to stanch the flow of blood and bind the wound.
When they stole back to Paradise through the moonlit forest, it was in solemn silence.
Drew’s brother carried him up to his room at The Parlor. Claire stayed close by her man, obviously ill-at-ease in the bawdy house. And Catalina hovered over her beloved Drew while the madam quietly summoned the doctor.
It took three slugs of whiskey, a belt between Drew’s teeth, and his blacksmith brother to hold him down. Catalina had to bite back sobs of despair through the whole ordeal. But the doctor finally managed to dig out the bullet. Fortunately, it hadn’t done too much damage.
After a secure bandaging and a dose of laudanum, Drew drifted off to sleep. Then Catalina began shaking and couldn’t stop. Now that he was safe, the terror of what had happened hit her all at once. What if the bullet had hit him an inch to the left? What if she and Claire hadn’t managed to stop the bleeding? What if she’d never left her room to find Drew? What if she’d slept through it all?
She gave Chase and Claire her room while she stayed with Drew in his. She didn’t sleep much. She was too worried about her husband-to-be, whose golden skin had turned to a deathly ashen shade.
When she finally managed to close her eyes, it was near dawn. But no sooner had her head hit the pillow when her slumber was interrupted by the sound of the door bursting open. When she woke, she was staring down the barrel of a rifle.
