David Dalglish - The Old Ways

“This is Sandra, and my name is Jerico.” He debated a moment, then added, “Of the Citadel.”

Cobb’s eyes widened a moment, and then he grinned.

“Gods be good, you telling the truth? My oldest joined up with that bandit, Kaide, and came limping back from the Green Gulch with fewer fingers and a lot more sense. Mind if I see that shield of yours? He’s always talking about it.”

Jerico obliged, pulling his shield from his back and holding it before him. Light shone across its surface. Cobb reached out to touch it.

“It safe?” he asked, just before making contact.

“Depends how dark your heart is.”

Cobb laughed.

“Perhaps I better not,” he said, pulling back his hand. “I’m a simple man working the fields, but I know when not to press my luck. Please, come inside. I can get my wife to make you all a fine meal, and perhaps you can tell me how the battle at the Gulch really went. Never know if my son’s speaking truth or telling tales, if you get my meaning.”

Jerico glanced at Sandra. He’d planned to buy a horse, even a donkey, so long as Sandra would have something to ride. No matter how much she might deny it, he knew the lengthy walks were aggravating her wound. Yet her skin had grown pale, and he doubted they could go much further that day. Perhaps eating some fresh food and sleeping in a comfortable bed would do her good.

“Our food has been poor, and rationed,” Jerico said, returning his shield to its spot on his back. “I hope you understand what you’re offering.”

Cobb grinned.

“Mister, you won’t eat more than what my Debra can cook. When you feed as many mouths as we do, two more don’t matter much.”

They entered into a large family room, which looked to take up more than half the house. Cobb left them there to talk with Debra. Their furnishings were meager, but Sandra sat on a cushioned chair, closed her eyes, and slowly rocked.

“Are you all right?” Jerico asked her.

“That’s a stupid question, even for you.”

She smiled, and even with her eyes closed, she looked so beautiful. Jerico’s hatred grew in his heart at what Valessa had done. He knew his hatred was wrong, that it went against all he believed…but damn it, sometimes it seemed so appropriate.

Debra came to greet them, wiping her hands on her apron. She was as worn and tanned as her husband, though she looked to be a good ten years younger. Jerico took her hand, bowed on one knee, and kissed her knuckles. Debra giggled as if she were but a young girl yet to leave her father’s home.

“You’re just like Jeb described,” she said. “Be honored if you stayed at least a night. We don’t hear much beyond our neighbors, and they’d rather talk about the harvest than what the Hemman brothers are up to.”

She turned her attention to Sandra, and her giddiness vanished, replaced with a distinctly motherly attitude.

“Are you feeling fine, dear?”

“Just a little ill, that is all,” Sandra said. “Honest.”

“This is Sandra Goldflint,” Jerico said. “Kaide Goldflint’s sister.”

That raised some eyebrows, but the couple held their questions as to why she was there, traveling with Jerico instead of her brother. Sandra kept silent, and soon she slept.

“It has been a long trek,” Jerico said.

“The road is hard on everyone,” Cobb agreed, and let the matter drop.

Come dinner, the whole family gathered. The room was cramped, but none were willing to eat outside or in a different room, not with Jerico there to entertain. Jerico counted four sons and one daughter. The oldest looked to be in his late teens, and was already married. They also lived there on the farmland, though Cobb insisted the boy would soon have land and a house of his own. Hardly a year separated him from the second oldest brother, Jeb, the one who had joined Kaide’s army when the bandit leader had gone recruiting on his way to join Arthur Hemman’s army. Truth be told, Jerico didn’t recognize him at all. He’d been just one of many amid the battle.

“I didn’t get a chance to fight much,” Jeb explained. “Stayed near the back, but I did help hold the line when you said. You shoulda seen yourself, that shield glowing as we fought. Even when I took a hit to my hand and lost half my damn fingers, I’d still have gone on fighting. We all thought you died when you stayed back after calling for a retreat.”

“I’m too stubborn for that,” Jerico said, earning a laugh from around the table.

When Jerico brought up purchasing a mount, Cobb would hear none of it.

“Far as I’m concerned, you’re why my boy’s still alive,” he said. “I got an old ass that doesn’t care too much for plowing anymore. He’ll still let you ride him, long as the burden isn’t too much. I don’t think Sandra will upset him none.”

The food was delicious as promised, particularly the bread. Jerico devoured slices until it was gone, though the same could not be said for Sandra. She ate little, nibbling at her food before pushing it away. Her skin had grown even more pale, and he caught her staring at the table as if amid intense concentration.

“Sandra?” Jerico asked, hoping not to alarm his hosts. She looked up at him with a blank expression, then shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, standing from the table. “I need some air is all. Just need…”

She fell to one knee, remaining upright only because one of Cobb’s sons grabbed her arm and held her. Jerico shot from his chair and hurried to her side.

“What’s the matter?” Debra asked. “Can we help?”

“It’s nothing,” Sandra said, weakly pushing Jerico away. “I’m fine.”

Her forehead was slick with sweat when he touched her, and it burned his hand like fire.

“Fever,” he told the couple. “I hate to ask, but…”

“But nothing,” Cobb said. “Put her in our bed. Barely sleep as it is, and the floor suits me just fine.”

Jerico scooped Sandra into his arms and stood. Debra scattered the rest of the children as Cobb led him into the small bedroom to the side. Laying her atop the blankets, Jerico brushed his hand against her forehead and tried to focus his thoughts for another lengthy bout of prayer.

Cobb crossed his arms and nodded toward Sandra.

“Sir, I don’t mean to pry, but I know you’re not telling me everything. She’s got more than a fever. My old eyes can still see those bandages.”

“She was stabbed,” Jerico said, lifting Sandra’s shirt. “Normally I could handle it, but something’s wrong. It’s fighting me somehow.”

“Those bandages need to be cleaned,” Cobb said, leaning closer to inspect them. “I’ll grab a knife, and then we’ll take a look.”

He stepped out, only for Debra to replace him at Sandra’s side. She laid a cool cloth over Sandra’s forehead, then told her to hush when she protested.

“I’ve got Jeb heating some water over the fire,” she told Jerico. “When it gets to boiling, I have a few herbs that should help bring down her fever.”

“Thank you.”

Cobb returned, knife in hand. Debra scooted over to allow her husband access to the bed. With slow, deliberate movements he sliced off the bandages. They smelled sickly sweet, and were soaked with blood and pus. Jerico winced when he saw the first patch of flesh beneath. More and more bandages fell to the floor. Cobb leaned in, examining every inch, close enough for his nose to nearly touch her skin. When done, he looked at Jerico.

“The wound’s gone bad,” he said. “I’m not sure how she’s even alive.”

Jerico nodded, for he’d thought the same thing. Her entire stomach was purple, and in its center, like a cat’s eye, was a weeping cut. Its edges were yellow, and the veins about it a violent red. Jerico couldn’t begin to imagine the pain it caused her.