Ralph Compton The Convict Trail Read Online Free PDF Page A

the girl’s forehead. “Uh-huh, it certainly is,” he said. He looked at Lorraine and smiled. “I’d say Nellie is going to be all right.”
    â€œThanks to you two,” the woman said. “I’ll be beholden to you forever.”
    The child’s eyes were open and now she was aware of where she was. She looked up at her mother. “Ma, I don’t like it here in the water. I’m cold.”
    â€œShe’ll do.” Sam grinned. He said to Lorraine, “If’n I recollect rightly, that cavalry doctor said it was dangerous to warm up the Comanche young ’uns too fast after their fevers broke. He wrapped them loose in a blanket and let them set thataway fer an hour or more.” His eyes shifted to Kane. “Logan, we have dry blankets in the wagon.”
    â€œI’ll get one,” Kane said, wondering at how easily he had adapted to the change from gun-handy lawman to sick child’s nurse. There was, he decided, no end to life’s strangeness.
    The thunderstorm was moving, flashing and grumbling to the south, but the rain was still falling, heavy and relentless. Kane was soaked to the skin and he shivered in the cool wind. Suddenly he found himself yearning for the comfort of his own blankets, wet or no.
    Tired as he was, he had a feeling the dream would not disturb his sleep tonight. He hoped not. He wished for it to stay far away from him and eventually lose itself in memories.
    The prison wagon was a converted Mitchell and Lewis Company farm wagon that had been fitted with a wrought-iron cage and hinged door made by a Fort Smith blacksmith. The man had been paid sixty dollars for the work, the money coming out of Judge Parker’s own pocket. The comfort of prisoners was not a consideration and the wagon box was only ten feet long and forty inches wide. Like old Charlie Goodnight’s famous chuck wagons, it had a box for supplies and a boot to the rear featuring a number of shelves and drawers to hold what Sam Shaver would need to feed the prisoners. A water barrel big enough to hold a two-day supply was roped to the side of the wagon along with a shovel, pick and the precious American Enterprise coffee grinder.
    Since wood was often hard to find on the trail, Sam had slung a canvas under the wagon hammock-style where he could throw any fuel he collected during each day’s drive. There was also a wagon box where he and Kane kept their bedrolls, spare blankets and shackles. No bedding was provided for prisoners.
    The wagon was sturdily built and was fitted with steel axles that could last up to five months on the trail, as marshals and drivers often stayed out that long. Judge Parker had written a letter to the Mitchell and Lewis Company declaring that their wagon was “a marvel of modern engineering, first-rate in every way.” What his prisoners thought of the prison wagon has not been recorded.
    Kane took a folded blanket from the wagon box and bent over, holding it against his chest to protect it from the hammering rain.
    He handed the blanket to Lorraine. “It’s dry, mostly.” The woman lifted her daughter from the creek and wrapped her in the blanket.
    â€œRemember, don’t get her too warm, ma’am,” Sam said.
    Kane helped the woman to her feet. “I’ll walk you back to your wagon.”
    The marshal held Lorraine’s elbow as they made their way to the wagon, stepping through darkness and rain. Lightning shimmered to the south, but the voice of the thunder was stilled.
    â€œBrung you back your woman, Hook,” Kane said when he reached the tailgate. “Make room there.”
    Grudgingly the man made a space. He glanced at Nellie. “She all right?”
    â€œHer fever is down,” Lorraine answered, attempting a smile that quickly died on her lips.
    â€œWoman, you ever disobey me again, I’ll throw you and the brat out, no matter where we are, desert, mountain, swamp,