Chapter Thirty-Four
Runa felt like she was drowning in a sea of cotton batting, or perhaps suspended in molasses with how hard it was to will her limbs into moving. Her body throbbed with pain with every beat of her heart, drawing her from her weightless drifting. Her mind drifted as well, wandering from one thought to another without conscious thought to guide it. The sea of crimson that had surrounded Falsworth and Happy Sam, reaching out towards her, wanting to claim her, drown her, keep her from ever escaping.
Then Steve was there, reaching for her, pulling her to safety, away from the seeking crimson. He enfolded her in her arms and she curled against him, even as Bucky wrapped around her other side. Safe, she was finally safe. She knew that Steve and Bucky would find her, protect her. They wouldn’t allow the outside world to hurt her, despite Steve’s clumsy efforts that sometimes hurt more than anything else could. He never meant to hurt her, not really. She knew that now. And Bucky… He was always there to comfort her, to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. And God help her, whenever he said those words she was hard pressed to deny their truth.
Everything would be all right.
Together they would make it right.
Her mind continued to drift in the direction of the two men as she came to the slow awareness that someone was carrying her. Was it Steve, she wondered? The handsome face drifted before her and she tried to reach for it, but she couldn’t seem to move her arms.
Steve with his soulful blue eyes and full lips that she preferred to see curled in a smile, not to mention honey blonde hair that she wanted to touch and ruffle between her fingers. Steve would keep her safe.
But Bucky… Bucky was the one who would make it safe.
Bucky, with his chocolate hair that held hints of russet in the sunlight, and his light eyes that always shone with some kind of emotion when he looked at her.
Both of them served as rocks for her to lean on, pillars of strength to stabilize her and keep her safe, similar but different. She wanted to touch Steve, but be held by Bucky, because being inside the circle of his arms was like being in the eye of a hurricane; no matter what else was going on around them he was calm. Safe. Steve was a different sort of safety, more volatile, but still safe. The two of them were halves of a whole, their strengths complimenting each other’s weaknesses.
But was there any room in that whole for her? They complimented each other so well that she felt like an intruder at times.
Her mind continued to drift a while, until she was laid down upon a hard surface, the action drawing a pained groan from her. Someone propped her up and a canteen was brought to her lips. She almost choked on the water, coughing and sputtering as the canteen was drawn away. She tried to open her eyes, struggled to do so, but her eyelids were so heavy she couldn’t manage it.
“Steve?” She slurred out the name, but got no response. “Bucky?”
That earned a barking laugh, and she could hear words but not make out the meaning of them. She recognized that voice, tried to draw away from it. That voice meant danger, and pain.
Then there was something soft and sweet smelling over her face again. She tried to turn her head, draw back so she could breathe without gagging, but she was forced to breathe in the sweet smell until all was dark once more.
~*~
Stanley, called Mister Stanley by just about everyone in town, was an older man who ran the train station by himself. He was at an age where he should have spent his days sitting on a porch sipping lemonade while he watched his grandchildren play in the yard, but like so many others, the war and illnesses that had followed had taken his family from him. When the company had announced that they needed someone to operate a new spur line in Texas, he had applied for the position and happily left New York behind. It held far too many memories for him.
Now, it was evening on what had been a hot July day and he was finishing sweeping out the inside of the train station in preparation for the train that should be arriving within the next ten minutes, according to the schedule. He looked up as a man came in, carrying a woman in a tan calico dress with a men’s jacket over her, her head turned away from Stanley so he couldn’t see her face, her hair down and partially obscuring what little he would have been able to see anyway. A sweet, cloying scent followed them into the station, as if they had practically bathed in some sort of perfume. Their appearances were at odds with one another; the man dressed in fine linen and brocade while the woman wore calico. They both looked rather the worse for wear, and he could just glimpse a rust colored stain on the woman’s skirt, mostly hidden by the jacket.
Then Stanley realized that the woman was unconscious.
“Everything all right with the missus?” Stanley asked in concern as he leaned his broom against one wall.
“Our buggy had a small incident, and it was a bit too much for her, what with the heat and all.” The man smiled at him, carrying the woman easily as he approached the counter. “She’ll be fine with a bit of rest, which she will have plenty of once we’re on the train.”
“You should take her to see Doc Banner.” Stanley said as Cassie Lang came in carrying the basket that held his supper from the restaurant, just as she did every day save Sundays.
“She’ll be fine. Unfortunately, we cannot stay in town long. We must be on the train today. I want to purchase tickets for a sleeper car.”
“I don’t think you should be going anywhere until you take her to see Doc Banner.” Stanley said firmly. “Next train will pass through in three days’ time.”
“That is not acceptable, we must-”
“-Who are you?” Cassie asked suddenly. The man glanced over to her, smiling slightly.
“No one important. We’re just passing through on our way home.”
“Then why are you carrying Missus Rogers? Is she sick?”
Stanley looked to Cassie, surprised she knew the woman, before looking to the man, who was scowling at Cassie. “Missus Rogers?” Stanley demanded. “She’s not his wife?”
“She is my wife, the girl is mistaken-”
“That’s Missus Rogers. I know it is.” Cassie protested adamantly. Stanley was looking at Brock suspiciously now. “That’s her dress, and that’s her hair! It has to be Missus Rogers.”
Brock cursed, shifting Runa in his arms, ready to teach the brat a lesson but he would need to set Runa down to do so, and he couldn’t do that. He had to get them on the damned train.
“Cassie, run and get the Sheriff.” Stanley ordered the little girl, who dropped the basket and ran out the door.
Brock snarled out another curse, drawing a six shooter and levelling it at Stanley, before giving him a sharp smile. “Tickets, please.” He ordered, hearing the train approaching from the distance. He was cursing his luck. If it hadn’t been for the girl, he could have convinced Stanley to sell him the tickets and they could have been out of town before anyone stopped them. Now he would be lucky if there wasn’t someone waiting for them at the next station. He should have had at least a week before anyone knew something was amiss and went to investigate the ranch, thanks to the man he had hired to finish the job there. No one was going to be left alive to tell the tale of what happened at the ranch that day, or identify him. He should have handled that aspect himself, but he had wanted to get Runa to the train before they missed it.
Meanwhile, Cassie ran from the train station, running across the road to where she knew she could find help, almost getting run over by a man driving a team and wagon in the process. She ran right into Luis, who was leaving the blacksmith’s shop after making a delivery.
“Cassie! Cassie, are you all right?” Luis knelt and placed his hands on her shoulders, seeing the tears on her cheeks as the blacksmith came up behind them.
“Cassie, what’s wrong?” Thor demanded.
“A man in the train station hurt Missus Rogers, and is trying to take her away on the train!”
Luis tensed. “In the train station?” He demanded, looking up, seeing the plume of smoke and steam nearing the town, indicating that the train would very soon be pulling into the station.
“We will stop him. Luis, can you keep the man’s attention for a few minutes?” Thor demanded.
“I can do that. Cassie, you wait inside the blacksmith’s. Missus Odinson will keep an eye on you.” He promised. “We’ll stop the man from hurting Missus Rogers again.”
Cassie nodded, running past Bruce and into Thor’s, where Thor’s wife Jane was, while Thor dashed across the street, hurrying around the far side of the station. Bruce moved at a more sedate pace as he climbed up onto the train platform. He watched Brock come out of the station with Runa limp in his arms, the train slowly pulling into the station.
“Hey, you!” Luis called, attracting Brock’s attention as the platform was nearly obscured by the smoke and steam from the train engine. Luis watched as Brock turned his attention to him, trying to juggle tickets, a gun, and Runa at the same time and having a hard time of it. He felt fear in his gut as he saw the gun. He hadn’t expected that. “Look,” Luis called, “Just put the lady down, and you can get on that train. No one will stop you.”
Brock barked out a derisive laugh. “And there will be someone waiting to arrest me at the next station.”
“If you do this, yeah, there will be someone waiting, but if you just walk away we’ll let you go.”
“A nice offer, but you’re in no position to make it. Besides, I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just taking the lady back home, where she belongs.” Brock grinned, a feral, almost dangerous smile.
“That’s okay, I think your time is up anyway.” Luis confessed out as a large form loomed behind Brock.
“There’s always a way out-”
Thor reached down and grabbed the hand that was holding the gun, trying to wrench it from Brock’s grasp. Brock snarled out a curse and the gun went off, firing harmlessly into the wall of the station building. Brock dropped Runa who fell to the ground with a painful sounding thud, but she didn’t move or make a sound, which scared Luis more than the madman with the gun did. Luis ran forward and dropped to his knees beside her while Thor grappled with Brock, tossing the gun aside and bringing his left fist to bear against Brock’s jaw. Thor was merciless as he pummeled the other man, who didn’t stand a chance against strength that was honed after years of wielding hammer and tongs.
People had heard the gunshot and came running to the station to see what was going on. Luis called someone to get the Sheriff or the Deputy as he rolled Runa onto her back and brushed the hair out of her face, wincing when he saw how bruised and battered she was. He checked her breathing, worried about her being alive, finding it slow and shallow, hardly even noticeable. The scent of ether was thick in the air around her, which explained why she was so deeply unconscious.
Thor had Brock on the ground now, flat on his face, crouched on Brock’s back and making certain the man could not get to his feet easily. “Is Missus Rogers all right?” The burly blacksmith demanded of Luis.
“We need to get her to Doctor Banner. She’s alive but… It doesn’t look good to me.” Luis confessed. Thor practically snarled down at Brock, gripping him by his hair and raising his head, before slamming it down into the plank floor. He did the action twice more, causing Luis to wince.
“Normally you’re not supposed to hit a man when he’s down, but… The pendejo deserved that.”
“Once the deputy or sheriff takes him, I will help you and carry Missus Rogers to Doctor Banner’s.” Thor promised, looking to the still form of the woman in question, hoping that Doctor Banner was in his office.