Bleeding Heart Flower Tattoo
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
“This is the place, ma’am?” asked Mrs. Yates from her seat in the buggy. “I don’t see anything.”
Mrs. O’Leary nodded. Then she turned to look at Mr. Yates with a slight frown on her face as if he might have done something wrong.
Mr. Yates was already climbing down from the vehicle when John rode up and greeted his wife.
She jumped out of the buggy without saying goodbye or even acknowledging John’s presence. With her hat clutched tightly against her chest, she walked toward the house—in that direction. The rest of them followed behind her.
The front door opened before they got there. A man stepped outside holding a shotgun in each hand. He looked like someone who was used to being first among men, but not necessarily liked by women. There was nothing friendly about him or his stance. His eyes glinted dangerously; they were the same color as the guns he held.
“Who are you people?” demanded the man. “And what do you want here?”
John said, “We’re looking for Mrs. Cavanaugh. We’ve been sent by her son.”
That seemed to surprise the gunfighter. For a moment he hesitated, then lowered his weapons. When he did so, he also dropped his arms to his sides and let them hang loosely at his side.
After a moment of staring at one another, Mrs. Yates called, “Come on in.” She went back into the house.
When the others followed her inside, John noticed that the house hadn’t changed much since he had left it seven years ago. It still smelled of damp wood, paint, and varnish. As John reached the front door, he saw that the hinges were newer than the ones he remembered. They didn’t squeak.
He stepped through the doorway and stopped short. His mouth fell open.
A woman stood in the middle of the room. Her hair hung in long ringlets around her shoulders. That was the only thing that made her resemble anyone related to John. But it was her eyes that brought him up short. The green irises were wide. And they almost seemed to glow in the dim light.
Stepping forward, John came closer to the woman. She stared at him with such intensity that he felt a chill run through him. It wasn’t just the way she looked, although he knew very well what those eyes could do to a man. No, it was more than that. Something about this woman was familiar—very familiar.
Then he realized why. This was the woman he had seen in his dreams.
The woman frowned slightly. “You know I don’t recognize you,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in over five years.”
John shook his head. “No, ma’am. Not in that time. But I remember you—”
Mrs. Yates interrupted him. “Ma’am, we’re looking for your husband. If you don’t mind, please tell us where he is.”
If she thought she had surprised him, she was sorely mistaken. Shaking off the effect of her strange green eyes, John said, “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Yates. You’ve found him. My name is John O’Leary, and this is my wife, Mrs. Yates.”
After a moment she smiled. “Well, now, that makes things easier. Come on in.” She took her hat off. “Please, come in.”
As she turned to lead the way to the parlor, John glanced at Mrs. Yates. She looked bewildered, and she kept stealing glances at the woman. The two women entered the living room together. As soon as they sat down on the couch, Mrs. Yates began, “Now, Mrs. Cavanaugh, we were told that you were ill. How serious is it? Is there any chance you’ll recover?”
“It’s bad, Mrs. Yates,” replied Mrs. Cavanaugh, taking a deep breath. “I’m dying.”
Mrs. Yates gasped as if struck by a sudden blow. “Oh!”
Her reaction startled Mrs. Cavanaugh. For a moment she wondered why everyone was reacting so strangely. But when she looked at Mrs. Yates again, she understood.
Mrs. Yates’s reaction was exactly what she expected from an old friend.
“But you can do something about it,” continued Mrs. Yates. “You’re a doctor.”
“Yes, ma’am. But there isn’t much I can do for myself.”
Mrs. Yates looked troubled. “What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means that I need a blood transfusion, and I have none. Even if I did have some, I’d lose it after tonight.”
Mrs. Yates nodded. “Of course. Then we should get started right away.”
***
They were gone a full hour before John and his wife returned home to find Mrs. Yates sitting on the porch waiting for them.
She greeted John with a smile, but when she saw his face, her expression darkened.
“How is she?” John asked.
“She’s sleeping now,” replied Mrs. Yates. “But she hasn’t slept much. She must be exhausted. I think she’s spent most of her energy fighting against the pain. Don’t worry, though. We’ll get her through this.”
Mrs. Yates led John inside. As soon as they were alone, John said, “So, how did it go?”
“Not good,” replied Mrs. Yates. “First, we couldn’t locate Mrs. Cavanaugh’s husband or her son.”
John was relieved. He had been afraid that they wouldn’t be able to find either one. “That was probably for the best. Now we can concentrate our search on finding her daughter. What about the other problem?”
Mrs. Yates sighed. “We were unable to locate a suitable donor.”
“Any chance you can get me a sample of her blood?” asked John. “Even a small amount would help. Maybe it will give us something to work with.”
Mrs. Yates shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. There are too many people living here now. When we moved back, she and her family were the only ones living in town. But now there’s a lot more than that.”
“Do you think someone might know where to look?”
“Perhaps. Let’s see. Mrs. Cavanaugh’s daughter has been missing for three days. That gives us time to track down anyone who might know anything and ask them what they remember about the night her mother disappeared. If we can find her daughter, then maybe we can find her.”
“Maybe,” said John. “But I doubt we’ll find her alive.”
“Let’s hope not. At least if she dies, we’ll be able to put her out of her misery.”
“Stop that,” said John, trying to keep his voice calm. “There’s nothing we can do until we find her.”
Mrs. Yates stared at him. “Nothing we can do? Are you kidding me?”
“No,” he said, “but there’s nothing we can do right now.”
Mrs. Yates ignored his reply and continued. “Just think of the possibilities if we could just get hold of her. It would solve all sorts of problems.”
“What sort of problems?” asked John.
“For starters, it would allow us to keep our ranch. You don’t think you’ll be able to buy it, do you? With a single gunshot wound to the chest, your wife won’t be around for long. And there’s no telling what kind of condition the ranch will be in once we’ve taken over.”
She was right. He hadn’t thought about the fact that buying the ranch might prove difficult. Especially since he had no money, nor was he sure he wanted to spend his life as a cattle rancher.
“And it would also make things easier for our children,” added Mrs. Yates. “No more worries about their future. No more wondering if they’ll ever get married or start families of their own. They’ll be free to live their lives however they want.”
John was silent. All of those thoughts ran through his mind, and he knew she was right. Any one of those issues could be settled simply by getting control of the ranch, but he wasn’t going to tell Mrs. Yates any of that.
“I don’t suppose there’s anything else, is there?” asked John, trying to change the subject.
Mrs. Yates shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see. Until we find her, there’s no point in worrying. Or doing anything to upset yourself. Otherwise, you’ll only be adding to your stress. You need to relax. So why don’t you come outside and sit with me for a while?”
Her suggestion surprised him. After the way he had treated her, he didn’t expect her to welcome him into her home. But she was right; he needed to relax. His nerves were shot from the past few hours.
“All right,” he agreed. “But I’m not staying long.”
Mrs. Yates nodded. “I understand. But you’re welcome anytime. In fact, I’d like to invite you to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Thank you,” he said. “That sounds nice.”
“Come at six o’clock,” instructed Mrs. Yates. “It’s my turn to cook, and I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
As John walked away, he thought about Mrs. Yates’ offer. It was tempting. Why shouldn’t he accept her invitation to dinner? It might be the perfect opportunity to get closer to her. And that’s exactly what he planned on doing.
***
“Don’t be late,” called Mrs. Yates from inside the house. “I’ll be expecting you.”
John rode toward the main street, wondering how he was going to convince himself to go. The idea of being alone with her at dinner made him uncomfortable. But as he turned the horse around, he decided he had no choice. He couldn’t afford to miss this chance.
He dismounted and tied the reins to a hitching post. As he reached for the door handle, he saw Mr. Jones standing across the street. John frowned. He hadn’t seen the man for several days. Now he stood staring at him, obviously waiting for an answer.
“Yes?” said John, coming to a stop.
Jones seemed surprised that John was there. “Oh, hello! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I came to check on you.”
“Well, come on in. You can help me get ready for dinner.”
“You’re not sick again are you?”
“Of course not. What makes you say that?”
“Because you haven’t left the house for a week. You look awful.”
“Really?” said Jones, sounding surprised. “I feel great.”
“Good. Then that means you should join us for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Me? But—”
“If you don’t, then you’ll never know if you really feel good. I mean, who knows? Maybe you’ll actually enjoy eating with me.”
“I doubt it,” said Jones. “But thanks anyway.”
“All right,” said John. “Have it your way. But I won’t forget about you.”
John watched as Jones walked back to his front porch. He felt bad about snapping at the man. But the truth was, he wasn’t interested in having dinner with him. Not unless it meant talking about something other than himself.
With a quick glance around, John walked up the steps and entered the house. He went straight to the kitchen and found Mrs. Yates preparing dinner. She looked so beautiful in her white dress. A smile spread across his face. And then he remembered why he was there. He hadn’t invited her to dinner for her beauty. Only because she had been kind enough to invite him herself.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” said John. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“Why would you apologize to me?”
“For treating you badly.”
“I deserved that.”
“But you don’t have to worry about me ever doing it again. I promise you, I won’t.”
Mrs. Yates chuckled. “I knew you wouldn’t. That’s why I offered you dinner.”
“Thanks,” said John. “That means a lot.”
She paused before continuing. “Now about that dinner—I was thinking that maybe you could cook it instead of me.”
“Cook?”
“You can make fried chicken and roast beef, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“But you can do other stuff. Mashed potatoes, baked beans… I think that will be fine. It’s just a matter of chopping onions and things like that.”
“I guess,” said John. “What time does dinner start?”
“At six o’clock sharp.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
“Great!” exclaimed Mrs. Yates. “And while you’re here, I want you to meet my husband.”
***
When John arrived at their house the next evening, he found the front porch filled with people. Most of them were townspeople. Three men sat on the porch furniture. One of them waved at John. His name was Frank, and he said he worked as a cowboy for the railroad company. He asked John if he was a friend of Dan’s.
“No,” replied John. “My name is John Cartwright. We’ve met before.”
Frank smiled. “Of course we have.”
“Didn’t you work as a ranch hand for my father?”
“Yes,” said Franks. “I did. For several years.”
The others on the porch laughed.
“You’re not shy, are you?” said Frank. “It takes a brave man to ask someone if they remember him.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d mind leaving us alone for a few minutes.”
“Sure,” said Frank. “We’ll give you some time.”
As soon as the three men left the porch, John approached Mrs. Yates. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course.” Her smile faded. “How could I forget? We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
“Thank you. Now, please excuse me for a minute.”
“Please, stay,” said Mrs. Yates. “I’m sure these men won’t go far.”
“Right. Let’s talk.”
“About what?”
“Just about anything else but yourself.”
“Is this where you tell me you don’t like what I do?”
“No,” said John. “I don’t care about that. I just wanted to learn more about you.”
“Okay,” she said. “What would you like to know?”
“That’s hard to say. Everything.”
“Are you trying to butter me up?”
“I’m not even sure why I came here tonight. I guess I thought you might help me out by telling me more about myself.”
“Perhaps I can,” said Mrs. Yates. “But let’s take it slow. Okay?”
“Fine.”
“So, what do you want to know first?”
“There’s a lot.”
“Well, it’s pretty simple. You don’t have to answer all of it at once.”
John nodded. “Where should I begin?”
“Why don’t we start with how old you are.”
“Twenty-five.”
“That’s young to have a family.”
“I don’t have a wife or children.”
“Oh. What about friends?”
“I’ve got plenty of those.”
“How many?”
“More than I need.”
“What about you?”
“Same thing.”
They both chuckled.
“Tell me about your childhood,” said Mrs. Yates. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Two half-sisters.”
“How long ago did your mother die?”
“Ten years now.”
“Was it a sudden death?”
“In a way. She died of pneumonia. But I’m not sure if it was really pneumonia.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because when my mom passed away, Dad told me that it wasn’t pneumonia. He said that the doctor who examined her didn’t believe in pneumonia. And anyway, something went wrong with the autopsy.”
“What did you mean by ‘something went wrong?”
“During the postmortem, the body turned cold. The coroner called it an embolism, which meant that blood and other fluids stopped flowing from the heart.”
“Sounds like a pretty serious medical condition.”
“Dad took it very seriously. He had the doctor fired and refused to pay for the funeral. That’s why the coroner couldn’t find any proof of my mother having pneumonia. So, he couldn’t prove his theory that my mom died of a heart attack.”
“Interesting,” said Mrs. Yates. “Was there anything else you and your father disagreed about?”
“Not really. My dad was a good man. He used to be a preacher. Then he lost his faith.”
Mrs. Yates paused for a moment. “That’s very sad.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“And your brother?”
“Dan doesn’t believe in God either.”
“He has a point,” said Mrs. Yates. “Who created the heavens and earth?”
“God.”
“Then who made the first man?”
“Adam.”
“Who gave Adam the right to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge?”
“God.”
“What did the first man do after eating the fruit?”
“He ate it too.”
“And then?”
“The serpent tricked Eve.”
“Did the serpent trick them?”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
“Eve gave Adam the fruit.”
“She gave it to him willingly?”
“I guess so.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about you?”
“My parents never mentioned anything about God when I was growing up. We were Methodist. Not very religious at all.”
“I’m Catholic.”
“Me too.”
“It seems like everyone in town worships the devil.”
“You’re probably right.”
“But I don’t. I’m not like my father. I believe in God.”
“Does Dan believe in God?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he does. He hasn’t talked about it much.”
“Well, you’ll have to ask him. It’s time for me to go. Why don’t you come back tomorrow night?”
“Do you mind if I bring someone with me?”
“No, but I will need to talk to them before they sit down with you.”
“Of course.”
“Now, tell me about yourself. Where did you grow up?”
“Here in South Carolina.”
“What kind of work did your father do?”
“He was a rancher.”
“Ranchers are different from farmers.”
“You could say that. Ranches are used to raise cattle, sheep, goats, and pigs. Farms produce crops. Also, ranches are generally larger than farms.”
“Are there lots of ranches in this part of the country?”
“Yes, there are some.”
“Which one is yours?”
“This ranch.”
“Wow, that’s impressive. How many acres?”
“About five hundred. We run a herd of bulls.”
“So, you’re raising cattle?”
“That’s right.”
“What kind of bulls?”
“Big ones.”
“Have you ever been in a rodeo?”
“Yeah, a few times.”
“How did you get started doing that?”
“A friend asked me to join his team.”
“Where did you compete?”
“All over the United States. I was also invited to ride in Canada.”
“Were you successful?”
“Mostly. I won a lot of money. But I’ve never ridden in Australia or Mexico.”
“I bet you’d make a fortune in those places.”
“I might. But I’d rather stay here.”
“But you can’t live off the land forever.”
“I know, but I plan on staying until my last day.”
“Did you use to work with your father?”
“Before I got married, I worked with Dad. Then we both left the ranch and moved to San Francisco.”
“What did you do there?”
“I was a bartender.”
“That must have been interesting.”
“It was. Some of the customers were real characters. Especially the women.”
“There’s no place in the world where men outnumber women like this area. Do you think that’s true?”
“I suppose it is.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Women have babies. They take care of them. And they’re not always interested in ranching.”
“Could you see yourself living anywhere other than here?”
“No, I couldn’t. This is home.”
“Thank you for coming in today.”
“Anytime.”
The End