Wild Rose

"John, John, you have to wake up," Rose pleaded as soon as Jamie laid him on the floor of the Marshal's office slapping both sides of his cheeks sharply, "Please wake up!"

"They're getting rowdy," Jamie murmured softly, coming back from his watch by the window to crouch at Rose's side, "They want a name." And a head, he thought grimly.

Rose had, with Jamie's help peeled the blood soaked shirt off John and used it to staunch the blood flow. She was presently leaning on it with her knee, trying still to rouse him by slapping at his cheeks.

"Jamie…what if it's Carlos?" Rose suddenly asked, taking great interest in taking John's pulse and checking his coloring so she might avoid Jamie's eyes.

Jamie opened his mouth to deny Carlos could be responsible. The look in John's eyes seemed to indicate the news wouldn't please him though, "I don't know, Rose," he said quietly, patting her knee absently.

"But…what will happen to him?" Rose said, her voice wavering a bit, "With the town so mad, and Teaspoon gone?"

"I've already sent Billy Hayes to ride for Teaspoon. Maybe John will hold off waking up until then."

Rose shook her head, "He won't. He's already starting to come to. He's lost a lot of blood, but not enough to keep him down long. Maybe we could get him to hold off releasing the name?"

Jamie shook his head, getting up and going to glance out the window once more. If it wasn't all of Sweetwater surging forward and falling back with angry cries when they saw him at the window, it was damn close.

"No, John won't do that. It's his job to get the guy, and if it is Carlos, then he'll have to be brought in."

Rose persisted with her earlier train of thought, "But Jamie…what will they" she cocked her head toward the windows, "do to him?"

Jamie sighed, "I don't know Rose. Hopefully they'll lock him up and wait for Teaspoon and a judge."

"And if they don't?" Rose's voice was muffled as she again looked away from him.

"They'll hang him. Or worse." Jamie said bluntly.

"Oh God," Rose murmured, then shook her head firmly, "No. It isn't him. We know it isn't him don't we Jamie? He couldn't do something like that. Not Carlos?"

Suddenly she reminded him of the thirteen-year-old he'd first met, who'd taken his word as law. Once upon a time he would have lied to her and told her everything was as she wanted it to be. Today however he shrugged and repeated, "I don't know Rosie."

"He's coming to," Rose said, and Jamie was instantly at her side, coaxing John to wake up with her. The crowd had rushed forward and was peering in the window.

He opened his eyes slowly and Jamie leaned over him, shielding him from view and spoke in an authoritative tone, "Don't raise your head whatever you do. I need you to tell me who you saw right now."

John, disoriented and still shaken after his experience looked at him oddly, "Who I saw? Oh! Oh…the ranch hand…Carlos."

Rose's gasp was audible, and her eyes flew to Jamie's. Having been best friends and living together for so many years had made their ability to communicate impressive.

I'm going to warn him, Jamie's gaze said with a slight inclination of his head toward the back door.

No! What if he goes after you? Rose's troubled stare met his.

He won't. Buy me some time, though, and stay here, no matter what, he mouthed the last words to her over John wanting there to be no confusion on her part. With that Jamie stood up slowly and stretched as John lay perfectly still, assuming he was asked to do so to prevent further injury.

Jamie's eyes met Rose's again and the message in them was crystal clear, I mean it, Stay here.

And he ambled into the back room so that the crowd outside might think he was only going to seek something for Rose. She heard him break into a mad run as soon as he was out of sight.

Rose moved nonchalantly so her back was to the windows, then she said quietly, "You need to lie still, John. You've lost a lot of blood and it's just stopped. Give the wound time to clot."

"But I have to go get Carlos!" John said weakly. Obviously she was a better actress than she thought. Clearly John thought he would bleed to death if he took a deep breath by the look of him.

"No! Carlos thinks your dead, he isn't going anywhere," Rose said slowly, through clenched teeth.

Her face must have finally betrayed her. John suddenly struggled against her hands, "Jamie's gone to warn him hasn't he? You're both interfering with the law and aiding a fugitive!"

The door suddenly burst open and men pressed in, pushing Rose forward, almost on top of John.

"Who was it?" they roared as one, and Rose got up and flattened herself against the back wall. They all had the same maddened, wild look in their eyes, and she was frightened, for herself, and for Jamie, but mostly for Carlos.

"Don't tell them John! They're going to hang him!" Rose blurted out suddenly, and they turned on her with fury, not so much with words but with glares that turned her blood cold. Still, she persisted, hoping she was buying Jamie time. She had no doubt she would fail in diverting them. Nothing would stand in the way of this group. Not for long.

John glanced at her.

"Please," she whispered to him, "He won't get a trial, you know it!"

"He doesn't deserve a trial! That man killed my Elizabeth! And he'd kill you too!" She cringed under the gaze of the grief crazed Mr. Walker. And the mob, reminded of its losses, roared louder.

Shouldn't she be thrilled that Elizabeth, her dear friend, would be gaining revenge and justice? A cold sweat broke on her brow and she felt tears well in her eyes, so torn by emotion. Carlos had never tried to harm her, but she'd seen the blood, and heard what Jamie had told her about how he had been in town the night of the first murder, and most damning of all the deputy had seen him do it and almost died under his knife!

John glanced at the wound, saw it had stopped bleeding long ago, and cast Rose a reproachful look for stalling. But he said nothing in the fear of bringing the crowd on her.

"Where's Jamie?" one of the men suddenly asked.

"He's just stepped outside," Rose lied, but her voice trembled.

"A lie! He's gone to warn the murderer!" a voice outside thundered, "There goes his horse!"

"Oh God," Rose said with a shaky sigh as the men filed out of the office to saddle up.

John paused by the door, looking at her, "Rose, I'm sorry. But it's justice, and that's my job. But…I won't say anything about you or admit Jamie knew who it was when he rode for home…"

Rose scowled and turned her head, not looking at him.

"Rose, go to Tompkins and stay inside tonight. Promise me you will?" John asked softly, but his voice was demanding.

"I'll go," she murmured softly. But I won't stay there she thought.

With a nod and a regretful look, he was gone.

Feeling numb, and more helpless than she'd ever been, Rose slowly walked back to the Tompkins' house as if in a daze. She paused on the porch. She could just see them, riding out on their horses, a group of thirty men, most of them carrying torches. It was a horrible sight and she shivered.

"Get him out of the way, Jamie" Rose said aloud, closing her eyes and hoping fervently that things would be alright. "And then get yourself out of their way!"

"Carlos! Carlos get out here quickly if you value your life!" Jamie's voice thundered from the bunkhouse.

Patrick burst out, followed by a more sedate Carlos.

"Did you kill those women Carlos? Because there's a mob of thirty men who've just been told you did!"

"What are ye talking about, lad?" Patrick asked in confusion.

"There's been another murder tonight, and John said he saw Carlos do it!"

"Do you think I did it?" Carlos asked slowly, looking Jamie in the eye with unnerving calmness.

Jamie drew his breath and let it out, studying the dark eyes of a man he'd known for years. A man that though mysterious and quiet, would sit up all night with a new born calf and sing to it in Spanish, a man that wept when an animal under his care didn't survive.

"God, no I don't think you did it Carlos! But it doesn't matter what I think! I'm not the one coming after you!"

Jamie glanced over his shoulder and could make out the spots of torches coming over the land, and he shuddered violently. It looked as if they were being carried forward by ghosts, the horses and riders not close enough yet to be seen or heard. He stood transfixed by the dots of floating fire for a moment.

He leapt off his horse, Lady, and held the reins to him. "Go, Go now Carlos! She's fast and she's not tired."

Carlos very calmly sat down on the porch step.

"What's wrong with ye man? Have ye gone daft! They're coming for ye, and not to give ye a hearing! They mean to have ye dead!" Patrick's voice grew panicked and he tugged on his friend's arm.

"Carlos, he's right. It's a lynch mob. You have to go, now!"

"Go where? And why? This is my home. Where would I go? To a life on the run? Back to Mexico to starve? No, Senor, I don't think so."

Jamie felt tears of desperation rise in his eyes, "Carlos, they're going to kill you tonight."

"Si, Jamie," Carlos nodded.

The earth was trembling with approaching hoof beats. It would only be minutes before the mob arrived.

"Please go," Jamie begged, "When Teaspoon gets back, when my father does, we can straighten it out!"

"It will never be fixed. These people will always believe I have done this. But you, you do not. And Kid did not think so. And Patrick does not think so. And whether I did it or not does not matter, they think I did. But I don't care. The right people believe that I did not. That is all that matters. Tell your father that I'm sorry I wasn't with the mares while he was away."

"God's nightgown! Ye bloody fool! Ride! Ride away from here! Save yerself! Ye don't have to sacrifice yerself like this! Go!"

"And leave my family and my home? No. You'll come to see me at the last? When they hang me? I'd like a friendly face in the crowd."

Jamie and Patrick both felt the tears streaming down their faces as they nodded.

Soon, pandemonium presided as the mob rode into the station. Thirty enraged men dismounted and swarmed, all wanting to lay rough hands on the quiet prisoner, who took the beatings soundlessly. Jamie and Patrick both screamed and struggled to get into the thrashing crowd and do something.

"You damned savages!" Jamie shrieked, sounding the part himself, and hurled himself onto the back of a large man, using fists, booted feet, and teeth to slow him down.

Then, there was a searing pain to the back of his head, and he remembered the dirt under his face, and a boot pressed into his back before his eyes closed.

Rose paced the porch like an animal, her watchful eyes riveted in the direction of the Bar M. Her fingers trembled. Mrs. Tompkins watched her from inside the house, but left her alone.

Rose stopped suddenly as she spotted the torches coming back. She held her breath as the mob grew closer. The horses passed right by the porch of the house and Rose felt tears spring to her eyes. The men looked neither to the left nor the right, but straight ahead, intent on their mission.

Carlos was there in the middle of the pack, his hands bound in front of him, and his face almost unrecognizable from the bruises.

"Carlos!" She screamed, and he jerked his head in her direction, looking at her out of the eye that wasn't swollen totally shut. She ran along the porch, throwing her voice out at him, "Carlos! I'll see that this is cleared up! I know you didn't do it!"

He shocked her by smiling gently at her and she saw the blood flowing from his mouth where most of his teeth had been knocked out.

"You stay there Senorita! I'll be fine!"

She leapt over the porch rail and ran after the horses until she was sure her heart would burst from the confines of her chest, gasping for air.

The men stopped on the far edge of town where gallows still stood from the execution of an outlaw Teaspoon apprehended three years past. It served as a warning to any who entered Sweetwater with trouble on their minds.

More men and women were gathering in front of the gallows now, and torches and lanterns lit the scene like it was day. It was an unusually hot night, and a sheen of sweat glistened on the skins of the men and women.

Rose shivered as she paused on the outskirts of the crowd. Their faces, lit by the torches, looked demonic. The irregularly flickering fire heightened the shadows of their eye sockets, and brightened the mad fury shining within them. The hollows and plains of their jaws were blurred, outlining their bones boldly and making them look like skeletons. They screamed, baring their teeth.

Were these the same men that ran the town, that nodded and smiled politely to her as she walked past them on sunny afternoons? What was it about the night and each other that turned them into such barbarians?

She could see them, clubbing Carlos viciously as they drug him up the stairs to the gallows. He did not protest, merely bounced from one fist to the next, quietly accepting his punishment.

"Stop!" Rose screamed from the back of the crowd, jumping to keep sight of Carlos as men and women shoved in front of her to better see the spectacle.

She saw Carlos fall on his knees going up the stairs. With a determined set of her jaw, she put her hand on the shoulders of either man blocking her way and pulled them back with all her might, screeching like a madwoman. It was effective, and they dropped back surprised, and not a little afraid of the look on her face.

With the first leg of the journey begun, Rose glanced at the progress on the gallows. They'd left Carlos in a heap on the wood flooring while several men threw a rope over a helpful tree limb. She narrowed her eyes. Mr. Baines, the mayor, Mr. Walker, and Mr. Tyler, the owner of the bank and some of the town's most respectable citizens were on the gallows shrieking about justice.

With a deep breath, Rose raised her elbows and plunged into the sea of people once again.

It was a very real battle that resembled swimming forward against the tide of violent waves crashing inward. No one was willing to give up his or her spot to allow her closer, but when her screaming didn't convince them to let her by, her nails or booted feet did. She took no heed of who she injured, so focused was she on her goal. Carlos, who was having a noose fitted around his neck, suddenly spotted her.

She broke out of the front of the crowd with a force that sent her sprawling into the dirt on her knees. Mr. Tyler was asking Carlos if he had any last words.

"Stop it!" Rose screamed at the exact time the crowd fell utterly silent to hear what the condemned might say, and scrambled to her feet. Everyone turned surprised eyes on Rose, who was clawing her way, literally, because several hands dared try to stop her, onto the platform.

"He hasn't had a trial!" Rose gasped in a loud voice, hoping to bring at least enough of the crowd to its senses so she'd have some support in her actions.

What actions? How am I going to stop this? She asked herself belatedly.

"He's a murderer!" Mr. Walker roared, and again, the crowd rallied behind him.

"It doesn't matter! He has the right to a trial!" Rose screeched back, starting forward and bending down by Carlos, tears rising quickly in her eyes as soon as she saw his jaw had been broken, in addition to the missing teeth.

"My God! You savages!" She roared, turning around with her eyes flashing dangerously. Mr. Walker actually took a step away from her, "This is wrong and you know it!"

"And him slicing my daughter to pieces is not?" Mr. Walker thundered.

"You've no proof that he did it!" Rose screeched back.

The crowd gave a discontented murmur, anxious to get on with the show.

"We do have proof Rose," a familiar voice suddenly said loudly, "I saw him do it."

"You!" Rose growled, turning on John with vicious eyes, "You have to stop this! You are a man of the badge! You can't let this happen!"

"I can't stop it, and neither can you, Rose," John said softly so that only those on the gallows could hear him, "Rose, this is no place for a lady!"

"I won't let you do it! You've all lost your minds! What has gotten into you?" Rose screamed again, tears starting to form in her eyes as she realized he was right. She couldn't stop it. Where in the hell was Jamie? What had happened to keep him from the hanging? Another small knot of fear worked into her churning stomach.

Without any idea what else to do, she collapsed on the boards next to Carlos and took him into her arms as firmly as she could considering the beating he'd had.

"Carlos," she whispered, tears falling down her nose as she leaned her head against his forehead, "Carlos, I'm so sorry. I know you couldn't do it…"

Carlos, despite the pain it must have caused him with his mangled mouth nodded, tears in his own eyes as well, "I know you know, Rose, mi amiga. But you must step down now, and leave me to them, si?"

Rose shook her head against his and her voice broke on a sob, because she knew he was right, but also knew she couldn't do it, "Carlos, I can't let them do this to you!"

"They will do it whether you let them or not. And all will be well. I'm am prepared to die."

"No," Rose sniffled, "Don't say that."

Carlos painstakingly reached up to cradle her cheek, as the men approached, having allowed Rose as long as their mad blood would let them to say goodbye, "You are beautiful, mi amiga. Via Con Dios, I will."

Rose screeched and clung to him when gentle but firm hands lifted her up away from him, standing her on her own two feet. Once there, she jerked her arm violently away and retreated to the corner of the gallows, breathing heavily, her mind working furiously.

Carlos stood with dignity as they replaced the noose that Rose had thrown off him. He didn't protest as they moved him over the trap door. Rose could see his hands, tied now behind his back, were trembling.

She started forward to do something, but a hand caught her firmly under the arm, and when she fought, she was jerked backwards and held tightly against her captor, arms pinned and too close to kick him.

She twisted her neck to see John holding her.

"I'll hate you till the day I die for this!" she swore to him, then thinking the better of it, spit in his face, trying once more to break away before pausing, exhausted. The tightening of the fingers around her arms was the only response to her actions.

"Stop it! Please somebody! Stop this! It's not right! He deserves a trial! In the name of God, stop this brutality!"

The crowd looked sheepish under her hot stare, but made no move, no sound of protest. Frustrated and desperate, she instead met Mr. Walker's eyes, "Please, sir, you can't do this!"

"We can. We will." He went on with the preparations, and she went back to thrashing and screaming in vain.

"Oh God, they're really going to do it," Jamie gasped from atop Lady as they thundered into Sweetwater and looked down the street to where the crowd was gathered. His eyes took in everything, Rose screaming and thrashing against John, Carlos standing with stoic resolve, staring into Rose's eyes, the men chanting and waving the torches.

"Aye," Patrick said in a choked voice from the horse beside him. Both sported large knots at the bases of their skulls, "At least we're in time. And at least Rose is there with him."

Jamie nodded and felt his throat go tight with pride and grief as he heard her gallant efforts to single handedly stop the crazed mob. It's no good, Rosie, he thought. He wished she wouldn't have to see it.

"Please," Rose whispered at last, but finally stopped fighting, looking unflinchingly into Carlos' eyes, knowing she had failed and he would die. Her tears were gone, her shoulders hunched in defeat. He looked much the same. His eyes bore into hers, dark and pained, mysterious, but gentle.

"Carlos," she mouthed his name.

The spring on the latch of the trap door sprung and the crowd fell silent as Carlos suddenly dropped quickly. Rose heard the snap of his neck, and turned away, fighting the urge to vomit.

It was done, then, it was over.

She stood still, her heart pounding and bile rising in her throat, her limbs trembling violently before she realized she still stood in John's grasp, that he was trying to put his arms around her, to comfort her.

She jerked away with a force that left him staggering and screeched again, "You'll all go to Hell for this! He was innocent, damn you! Damn you all! You bloodthirsty fools!"

She blindly stumbled forward as her knees wobbled, pitching head first off the gallows and landing hard on the dust below.

Sobbing she curled her fingers into the dirt as the crowd rushed forward, pushing herself up slowly and crawling to her feet. The tide of the crowd forced her back, pinning her painfully against the platform. Suddenly she felt there wasn't enough air and began elbowing and clawing her way out of the crowd as violently as she worked her way in, desperate to be free of these people.

They were going to mutilate his body more she knew, to tear it to pieces, but it was too late. They couldn't hurt him anymore.

The crowd was again frenzied and ripped right back at her, tearing at her hair, her skin, her clothes. Rose made a fierce spectacle, red hair blazing about her wild eyes. Seeing she was being badly mauled, Jamie leapt off his horse and began elbowing into the crowd as well. He could see Rose now, flinching with pain and growing tired, carried backwards by the crowd five steps for every one she fought forward.

"Rose!" He screamed her name, but might as well have been whispering over the roar of the mob. He yelled in horror when he saw her suddenly disappear, dragged down under the feet of the milling people.

He redoubled his efforts, using brute force and found her, lying doubled up on the ground, arms curled over her head for protection as her feet kicked out in defense and effort to regain her footing. Jamie flinched as her thrashing foot caught him soundly in the knee.

Rose screamed when hands clamped on her arms and hauled her quickly to her feet. She tasted blood on one lip and winced as the hands squeezed the scratches on her arm.

"Shh, honey, I'm here," Jamie told her, and for a moment they were carried back toward the gallows. As if she were no more than a sack of grain, Jamie suddenly hoisted Rose up against his chest, turning his back to the crowd so that they could not easily reach her and began plunging backwards. Finally, covered in sweat and panting, he broke out of the mob and sat down hard on the dust, Rose still in his arms.

She was trembling with exhaustion and shock, her skin clammy to the touch, but her eyes were dry.

"Oh Jamie," she said hoarsely, her voice gone from screaming, "I couldn't stop them."

"I know you couldn't. Neither could I. Nothing would have stopped them. You did the best you could."

Suddenly Patrick was there, still atop his horse, with tears streaming unchecked down his ruddy cheeks. He wordlessly held the reins out to Jamie.

"Let's go home," Jamie said softly, and hoisted her into the saddle. Not trusting her to stay on by herself, he climbed up behind her and gathered her in his arms. Her trembling still did not cease.

They turned and rode away without looking back to the gallows, where Carlos' body had been cut down and was now being ripped apart by the town.

Rose felt as if she was in a trance for most of the ride back, but ever so slowly she became aware of Jamie. He was sobbing softly, and shaking nearly as violently as she was. Not knowing what else to do, she reached out and placed both hands over his on the reins. It was all the invitation he needed, and suddenly his head was on her shoulder and he gave into the wracking sobs, and his arm tightened around her. Beside her, she heard a sob catch in Patrick's throat as well.

They climbed numbly off the horses in the stables. After caring for them they wearily turned toward the house. When Patrick turned sadly toward the bunkhouse, Rose quickly reached out, grabbed his hand, and didn't let go. Together, all three of them marched up to the main house and went inside.

Both men sat numbly at the kitchen table at Rose's bidding, and she fumbled around, looking for lemons, hastily going about making them some lemonade. It was something to do, a mindless task to keep the visions of the night from running through her mind in terrifying slow motion. Men made into monsters, intent on nothing so much as the blood of another. They'd been like a pack of wolves, harmless enough alone, but vicious and savage when banded, ready the rip the flesh from a weakling.

She shuddered despite herself and Patrick's voice sounded behind her, "Come, lass, rest yerself. Water will do for us."

"No," she said hoarsely, "I-I don't mind…"

Suddenly, she felt her stomach give another violent lurch, and placed both hands flat on the counter to steady herself. Her elbows even trembled beneath her weight as she closed her eyes and waited for the sickness to pass.

"Rose, you okay?"

"Are ye unwell, lassie?"

Both questions went unanswered as Rose turned and burst out of the house, making it to the edge of the porch and vomiting on the unsuspecting shrubbery below. Gentle hands patted her on the back, sweeping her damp hair back, out of the way. Too miserable to feel humiliated, she finally sank to the floor, her back pressed to the porch railing. Leaning forward she covered her face with both hands and finally gave way to the tears she thought she had moved past.

Soon, gentle hands were prying at her hands, and she was forced to look up as Patrick removed her shield. He pressed a cup into her hands, "Here, lassie, rinse yer mouth out, and let's get ye to bed."

Rose did so as obediently as a child, chasing the foul taste from her mouth with the sweet, cool well water. Jamie arrived with a damp rag, and crouched next to Patrick, wiping her brow.

Her protests were weak as he bathed her brow and her hands, but she flatly refused to be carried inside, and stood on her own, a hand on Patrick's arm to steady her.

She paused at the foot of the stairs and shook her head, "We won't sleep. You both know it."

Jamie nodded, and sighed, "I know it. Why don't we just all sit down here for a while then?"

Rose and Patrick, not eager to be alone with their thoughts, nodded, and they all sat wordlessly, looking into the dark fire place as if it were a pleasant winter evening and the blaze snapped cheerfully.

A soft snore a while later snapped Rose out of her daze and she looked beside her on the couch to see Jamie, head titled over the back, fast asleep. She glanced at Patrick and saw he too was out like a light. Smiling tremulously, she got up slowly and went to the empty chair, dragging two blankets off of it, and covered them both up.

She was standing in the middle of the floor, gazing at them when a thought struck her: If Carlos had not done it, then the real killer was still out there.

Shivering, she went to bolt the door, and came back to the couch, moving close to Jamie. He woke up, blinked drowsily, and saw her stricken face. Wordlessly, he reached out for her and pulled her close to his side.

Rose lay her head against his chest, feeling safer, but wondering what the town would do the next time fingers were pointed. She could only hope to God they'd be pointing somewhere else next time. Her mind worked furiously, trying to think of someone John could have mistaken for Carlos, but there were dozens of men of medium height and build with dark hair in Sweetwater. She started methodically listing them in her head.

Suddenly Jamie squeezed her shoulder, "I can hear you thinking. Stop it. Tomorrow is soon enough to try to make sense of everything. For now, sleep."

Knowing he was right, Rose sighed, and closed her eyes, clinging tightly to Jamie when nightmares of a frenzied mob and the friend they'd lost to its fury haunted her.

To be continued...Chapter X

Copyright 1998-This work is not to be reproduced without the permission of the author

The Way Station
Campfire Tales

Email: gliterin@bellsouth.net