The Healer's Touch Read Free Page B

so pretty she paused to enjoy the night.
    Talk of beaus and courting often caused a stirring in her soul. She would never marry. There wasn’t a man around who would dare to come courting for fear Edwina would have one of her mad fits. Maybe I’ll have to settle for one of the Younger brothers , she thought with a grin. Although the Youngers were nothing to smile about. She’d seen the hoodlums around, shooting up the town and causing trouble. She had prayed the rowdy gang would disband but they hadn’t; they’d grown even more worrisome. The whole lot was at their best when they banded together. The Younger brothers—Cole, Bob, Jim, and John—were a thorn in every decent side. Talk drifted to her when she visited the general store. Occasionally a Younger shot up the town and bullied folks something awful and the men in town didn’t lift a hand. They were terrified of the hoodlums and gave them plenty of space.
    Drawing the sweater closer around her shoulders, she set off toward the barn. That noise had to have come from somewhere. She had closed the door earlier and everything had been peaceful. Maybe ol’ Rosie had spooked and kicked her stall down…but even that wouldn’t have made such a thunderous sound. As she approached the dwelling, moonlight emphasized a gaping holewhere the barn door had once been. Gasping, she picked up speed, her eyes searching for the source of such destruction. Her barn door! What in the world…?
    Now, where was she going to scrape up enough extra money to replace that door?
    Drawing closer, she stared at the pile of ankle-deep rubble. The Youngers. How dare those thugs destroy her property! The town might have difficulty confronting those men, but she didn’t. She’d march down there where they lived and give someone a good piece of her mind!
    Leaning around the corner, she fumbled for one of the matches she kept in a box on the wall. A flame ignited and she lit the lantern wick. Light illuminated lumber strewn this way and that. The milk cow, Rosie, stood in her stall, eyes wide open. Lyric stepped deeper into the shadows and squinted, giving a quick intake of breath when she spotted a man’s body spread haphazardly across the dirt floor.
    A Younger . Her pulse quickened.
    Creeping closer, she centered the light on his still form and realized that this Younger was dead.
    A dead Younger. In her barn.
    She whirled, searching for his horse. Only Rosie stood in the dimly lit structure, however. Maybe he’d walked in here…but it looked for the world like something enormous had been ridden though the door.
    Her eyes darted to his chest, where she detected a slight rise and fall. He was still breathing? She set the lantern aside and knelt beside the still form. In a daring moment, she laid her head briefly on the wide span of chest and listened. A slow, faint beat met her ears.
    Straightening, she took a deep breath. Almost dead , she mentally corrected. If she’d step back and show respect for the dying the good Lord would finish His job. The town would be rid of one of the Younger brothers and maybe, for once, they would show a Bolton a little respect for delivering them of such a nuisance.
    Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, she mulled the dilemma over in her mind. If she could do anything to sustain his life, she must. It was nothing less than her Christian duty. She hadn’t learned the healing arts for nothing. And besides…if he died who would pay for the new barn door?
    But he was such a worthless man, causing Bolton Holler and every nearby community nothing but trouble.
    Yet she was not to judge others.
    Though this outlaw needed a good judging.
    Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.
    Bending close, she checked his breathing. The rise and fall of his chest was hardly detectable now. If she was