Free The Fiery Ring by Gilbert Morris Page B

and Joy saw that his face was still bleeding.Then she heard footsteps approaching, and two men heaved themselves up into the car.
    “There he is, Kaufman. I think he’s busted up pretty bad.”
    “All right. Let’s get him out of here.”
    Joy went at once and got her gunnysack. She also picked up the small valise the man had brought on with him. She hopped out and saw that the two men had simply laid the injured man down on the ground.
    “You can’t just leave him here,” she cried.
    “It ain’t our problem,” Kaufman said brutally. “Come on, Cam.”
    “She’s right. We can’t leave him here.”
    The older man stared at the one called Cam. “What do you propose to do? It’s time to pull out.”
    Cam’s eyes darted around, and he said, “Look, there’s that old caboose. It’s been there for months.” He turned to the girl and said, “We could put him in there. There’s a stove in it. It’s been condemned, but at least you can get a fire going. Maybe you can find a doctor. The station agent’s name is Powell. He’ll help you.”
    “Come along, Cam. Leave him there.”
    “No, give me a hand, Kaufman.”
    Kaufman cursed under his breath but obeyed the younger man. Joy followed them and saw as they struggled to get the injured man inside that he had passed out. She followed them in, and the younger man said, “We’ve got to go. Go see Powell. He’ll help you.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “Come on, Cam. We’re behind schedule.”
    Joy looked around. She had never been in a caboose before. There was an ancient potbellied stove in the corner, and she hoped she could find something to burn, either wood or coal. She leaned over the man and saw that his face was as white as chalk and he was still unconscious. They had placed him on the bunk, which was fastened to the wall. She glanced aroundand spied some old wooden boxes. Between her pocketknife and some good hard stomps with her foot, she managed to splinter one into pieces. She dug to the bottom of her pack to find the matches, then lit a fire in the stove. She added a few chunks of coal she found, and soon a fire was blazing.
    She turned her attention to her patient. “Can you hear me?” she asked, leaning over the still figure. She got no answer and thought, I’ve got to get help.
    Leaving the caboose, she went to the station, which was as small as a station could be, she thought. When she stepped inside she saw an older man with silver hair and bright blue eyes watching her. “Who was that the guys put in the car? Your man?”
    “No, just somebody I met, but he’s hurt bad. Are you Mr. Powell?”
    “That’s me. Well now, that caboose has been there for three months. It ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
    “Would it get you in trouble if we stayed there?”
    Powell grinned, studying the girl. “I’m sixty-six years old, and nobody wants my job. Stay there as long as you please.”
    “I’ve got to take care of him. Could I get some water?”
    “Sure. I got a bucket here. Plenty of water. What’s your name?”
    “Joy . . . Smith.”
    Powell did not miss the hesitation but did not press the issue. “What’s his name?”
    “I don’t know yet. Two men jumped on the train and beat him and kicked him. He’s hurt real bad, Mr. Powell. He needs a doctor.”
    Powell shook his head. “No doctor here. I’ll stop in and take a look at him after I get off.”
    He looked at the girl, wondering about her history, then said quietly, “You’ve been in a bit of trouble, I take it.”
    Joy stared at the man. “Yes,” she said. “Quite a bit.”

CHAPTER SIX
    Sister Hannah
    The smell of meat cooking awoke Chase. He blinked his eyes and started to sit up, but an unbelievable stab of pain in his side caused him to lie back and catch his breath. Something on his forehead was shutting out the vision of his right eye, and reaching up, he discovered a damp cloth.
    For a moment he was confused, and then the scene in the boxcar started