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A jolt of adrenaline washed over Evelyn at hearing his name. He must be right outside. Would he seek her out? She still didn’t quite believe Sarah when she said she was free to go.
“I didn’t feel inclined to head up to the Yellowstone for a little buckshot under my skin, Aimee.” Alex’s deep, rich voice sent a shiver up Evelyn’s spine. It was not the same voice she remembered from years ago, but then she’d never heard Alex talk a lot except when he and Henry thought they were alone.
“Well, it would have been much easier to get this slug out of you when this was still fresh. Now I have to make an incision and open that wound all over again. Sarah, go tell Matt or Zach to fetch me a bottle of whiskey.”
“I can get it, Mama.” Evelyn recognized Sarah’s voice.
“You’ll do no such thing, young lady.” The woman’s voice replied heatedly.
“You know I ain’t gonna drink that stuff, Aimee, so there’s no need for whiskey. Just cut me open already and get rid of the damn buckshot.” Alex’s voice hardened noticeably.
“You stupid fool. I wasn’t going to make you drink the whiskey. I need the alcohol to disinfect your wound. And since you’re being so rude, I won’t feel sorry for you when it stings.” Although the woman’s voice held no hint of warmth, Evelyn had the distinct impression that the banter between her and Alex was lighthearted and friendly.
“You still use them funny words that no one understands,” Alex replied, and the woman named Aimee laughed.
Overcome by curiosity, Evelyn sank to her knees by the tent opening. Slowly, she lifted the flap to the side, just enough to peek out. Several yards away, a fire blazed and crackled, and Evelyn noticed the handle of a knife sticking out from the flames. To the right, a woman sat bent over a man lying on the ground. Evelyn’s eyes rested on the woman’s long golden hair. Dressed in similar clothes as Sarah, this woman’s appearance was even more out of place here than her young daughter.
“Does Daniel know you’ve been shot in the chest?” Aimee asked.
“Ain’t seen him yet,” came the gruff reply.
“What happened? Did you annoy some Blackfoot warriors too much, or did you get under the skin of another trapper?” Aimee taunted.
“I don’t know who shot me,” Alex scoffed. “It happened while I was in St. Louis some months back.”
Evelyn inhaled a deep breath. Charlie had shot Alex when he ran from her home after killing her parents. He’d fled into the woods. Any doubt she ever had that Alex had killed her folks vanished instantly. What she was hearing confirmed Charlie’s story. He might not be the man she wanted for a husband, but surely he wouldn’t simply shoot a man for no reason.
She moved the tent flap back a few more inches to see better. Alex lay on a blanket on the ground. The woman kneeling over him obstructed most of Evelyn’s view, but muscular arms reached up and under his head. His flat, well defined abdomen moved up and down in quick rhythmic succession like someone who was out of breath from exertion.
“Hold still, Alex, or I’ll stake you to the ground,” Aimee said. She reached for the glowing knife in the fire. “Where’s Sarah with that alcohol?” She looked up just as Sarah and two youths who looked identical emerged from around another tent.
“Here’s your whiskey, Mama.” One of the boys handed her the bottle. “Which one of us needs to chaperone Sarah now? There’s a horse race about to start, and we want to go watch.”
“You can both go, Matt,” Aimee said, taking the bottle from him. “Sarah can stay here with me and help.”
“I want to go to see the race, too,” Sarah protested, and held her hands to her hips.
The boy named Matt boxed his brother in the arm and nodded, and both of them took off running.
“Come back here,” Sarah called. Then she glared down at her mother. “That’s not fair. Why do they get to have all the fun?”
“Sarah, right now I need you to quit your complaining and help me. Clean that area right here on Alex’s chest with the alcohol so I can make an incision.”
The young girl huffed in protest, but obeyed her mother. Despite everything, Evelyn couldn’t help but smile. Sarah reminded her of herself when she was younger. She’d often defied her mother and gone off to see what the men were doing. It always seemed that the women were left to do the tedious chores while the men went off to have fun.
Silently, Evelyn observed what was going on a few yards from the tent. The woman’s back was turned to her, so she couldn’t see exactly what Aimee was doing, but when Sarah stuck a branch near Alex’s head and told him, “Here, bite down on this so you don’t scream like a baby,” Evelyn had no doubt that the healer woman was cutting into Alex’s flesh. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. Silently she prayed that the knife would inflict all the pain it possibly could. This man did not deserve her sympathy.
