to the land. She studied it, reading it several times and trying to understand each word. It looked legal. It was deeded to Eben Potter, but one line said that the property would pass on to his closest relative upon his death. Just like Pa had said, Cassie thought with a smile of relief. The land was hers now that Pa was gone.
She started to put everything back into the trunk but paused when she saw a piece of paper stuck in the underside of the lid. It wasn’t yellowed like the others. The heavy parchment was stiff and the fold was barely creased. Cassie’s lips parted in surprise when she saw the fancy, black-inked scroll at the top of the page. It wasn’t Shorty’s writing. It was legal writing.
Last Will and Testament
.
When had Pa drawn up a will? Cassie wondered as she read the contents, her lips moving slowly at first before she began reading aloud:
I
,
Eben ‘Shorty’ Potter, being of sound mind and body on this the tenth day of January in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and eighty-eight, do hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions to my beloved daughter, Cassie Mae Potter
.
Let no man contest this will, for it is my final request and must be honored as stated
.
Signed, Eben Potter
.
Witnessed by Tom Cuddahie
.
Cassie stared at the last signature. Tom Cuddahie. The lawyer in Eureka Springs? She folded the document again and pressed it to her heart. Pa had drawn this up four months before he’d been shot to death. Had he had an inkling that his life might be in danger? She placed the document on top of the folded clothes and closed the trunk’s lid, then shoved it back under the cot as questions crowded her mind. Next time she was in town, she’d pay a visit to that lawyer and—
A loud crash and the tinkling of glass brought Cassie to her feet with a startled cry. She threw open the bedroomdoor and her gaze took in the broken lamp and the thrashing man in the bed.
“What the—” She went to stand over the shattered lamp and the pool of kerosene that darkened the wood floor. “Look what you’ve done! What’s wrong with you?” Her whining ceased abruptly when she saw the stain of blood on his bandage. “Damnation, you’re bleeding again,” she murmured, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders and forcing them back down onto the mattress.
He was out of his head, murmuring nonsense and struggling against her constraints. The arm nearest her swept up, and his knuckles rammed into her cheek. Tears sprang to her eyes and Cassie let out a yelp of pain. She grabbed his hands and pinned them to his sides, throwing all her weight into the task to keep him still.
“Rook! Rook, calm down, for pity’s sake,” she begged breathlessly, and, miracle of miracles, the fight went out of him. “Rook?” She leaned closer to his face, suddenly afraid that he’d died, but she felt his warm breath on her face and relaxed. Once she got her wind back, she removed the bandage and her stomach lurched. The wound was bad and, Cassie decided, getting worse.
She straightened up with renewed determination. “You’re not gonna die on me, mister,” she said sternly. “If you’re an outlaw then I’m getting you well and collecting the reward. If you ain’t, then I’m getting you well so’s you can get back on your horse and get out of my way!” She whirled from him and went back into the other room to the cupboards. “Don’t have time to mess with you,” she grumbled as she rummaged through the cupboards until she found the cigar box full of salves and bandages and Indian potions Pa had sworn by. “Jewel don’t know nothing about fixing up ailments! Can’t just clean a hole like that and ’spect it to mend. Gotta help it along.”
She remembered having a fever once, and Pa had poured some of the Indian potions down her throat. It had tasted like rusty water, but it had killed her fever and put the spark of life back into her.
Cassie unscrewed the lid of one of the jars that held a
She started to put everything back into the trunk but paused when she saw a piece of paper stuck in the underside of the lid. It wasn’t yellowed like the others. The heavy parchment was stiff and the fold was barely creased. Cassie’s lips parted in surprise when she saw the fancy, black-inked scroll at the top of the page. It wasn’t Shorty’s writing. It was legal writing.
Last Will and Testament
.
When had Pa drawn up a will? Cassie wondered as she read the contents, her lips moving slowly at first before she began reading aloud:
I
,
Eben ‘Shorty’ Potter, being of sound mind and body on this the tenth day of January in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and eighty-eight, do hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions to my beloved daughter, Cassie Mae Potter
.
Let no man contest this will, for it is my final request and must be honored as stated
.
Signed, Eben Potter
.
Witnessed by Tom Cuddahie
.
Cassie stared at the last signature. Tom Cuddahie. The lawyer in Eureka Springs? She folded the document again and pressed it to her heart. Pa had drawn this up four months before he’d been shot to death. Had he had an inkling that his life might be in danger? She placed the document on top of the folded clothes and closed the trunk’s lid, then shoved it back under the cot as questions crowded her mind. Next time she was in town, she’d pay a visit to that lawyer and—
A loud crash and the tinkling of glass brought Cassie to her feet with a startled cry. She threw open the bedroomdoor and her gaze took in the broken lamp and the thrashing man in the bed.
“What the—” She went to stand over the shattered lamp and the pool of kerosene that darkened the wood floor. “Look what you’ve done! What’s wrong with you?” Her whining ceased abruptly when she saw the stain of blood on his bandage. “Damnation, you’re bleeding again,” she murmured, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders and forcing them back down onto the mattress.
He was out of his head, murmuring nonsense and struggling against her constraints. The arm nearest her swept up, and his knuckles rammed into her cheek. Tears sprang to her eyes and Cassie let out a yelp of pain. She grabbed his hands and pinned them to his sides, throwing all her weight into the task to keep him still.
“Rook! Rook, calm down, for pity’s sake,” she begged breathlessly, and, miracle of miracles, the fight went out of him. “Rook?” She leaned closer to his face, suddenly afraid that he’d died, but she felt his warm breath on her face and relaxed. Once she got her wind back, she removed the bandage and her stomach lurched. The wound was bad and, Cassie decided, getting worse.
She straightened up with renewed determination. “You’re not gonna die on me, mister,” she said sternly. “If you’re an outlaw then I’m getting you well and collecting the reward. If you ain’t, then I’m getting you well so’s you can get back on your horse and get out of my way!” She whirled from him and went back into the other room to the cupboards. “Don’t have time to mess with you,” she grumbled as she rummaged through the cupboards until she found the cigar box full of salves and bandages and Indian potions Pa had sworn by. “Jewel don’t know nothing about fixing up ailments! Can’t just clean a hole like that and ’spect it to mend. Gotta help it along.”
She remembered having a fever once, and Pa had poured some of the Indian potions down her throat. It had tasted like rusty water, but it had killed her fever and put the spark of life back into her.
Cassie unscrewed the lid of one of the jars that held a
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