“He is, I’m afraid.” Amanda dipped the sponge into a bowl of water on the nightstand. “Burning up, in fact.”
“Doc just left a bit ago,” Esa said. “He doped him up with laudanum so he can rest. The wound is inflamed and paining him something fierce.”
“I hate to hear that.” Joseph rested loosely folded arms on the wrought-iron foot of the bed frame. “What’s Doc saying?”
“Mostly the same thing, that inflammation and fever are to be expected.”
Joseph nodded. “Does he still think Darby’s chances are good?”
Esa shrugged. “He didn’t say. I take that to mean he’s worried. Darby’s no spring chicken, and this fever is taking a toll.”
Amanda left off bathing the foreman’s face. “No spring chicken, you say? Darby McClintoch has more steel in his spine than six younger men.” Her eyes fairly snapped when she looked at Esa. “He’ll make it through this, mark my words, and he’ll go on to work circles around both of you for another twenty years.”
Joseph hoped she was right. He wasn’t sure how Rachel would handle it if Darby died, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be the one to deliver the news to her.
Amanda tossed the sponge back into the bowl and struggled to her feet. She wore a tailored brown jacket and a matching ankle-length riding skirt. She reached out a frail hand to Joseph. “Lend me your arm, young man. I want to take a turn in the yard with you.”
Joseph hurried around the end of the bed. Instead of merely lending her an arm, he encircled her back to better support her. She was none too steady on her feet.
After they exited the house, she slowed her pace and then came to a standstill near her buggy. “I barely slept a wink last night for thinking about your visit.”
“Don’t worry about it. It won’t be the last time that David will be invited to leave someone’s house, and me along with him. A badge has a way of wearing out a man’s welcome in short order.”
Amanda shook her head. “I felt bad about asking you to leave, but, in and of itself, that wasn’t what kept me awake. Your brother came to me for help, and instead of trying to provide some, I took offense and ordered him out.” She gazed for a long moment at the house. “I love him, you know. Darby, I mean.”
“So does your great-niece. By all accounts, he’s a fine man.”
“That’s not the way I mean,” Amanda corrected. “I mean I love him. I have for years.”
“Oh.”
She smiled tremulously. “I see the questions in your eyes. How and when did we meet, and if I love him, why am I seventy and still not with him?” She drew away to lean against the buggy wheel. Her eyes went shadowy with pain. “Darby went to work for my father back in Kentucky when I was still just a girl. When my father pulled up stakes to come out west, Darby came with us.”
“So you’ve known him almost all your life?”
“Oh, yes. When my father died, Darby stayed on to work for my brother. Over the years, he became like a member of the family, more than just a hired hand.”
Joseph nodded to convey his understanding.
She shrugged. “As a girl back in Kentucky, I suppose you might say I was just a mite headstrong.”
Joseph could well imagine that. Not many women her age threatened to take a whip to a man for mistreating a horse. “Never met a Kentuckian yet who wasn’t just a little headstrong, and we all take the bit in our teeth when we’re young, I reckon.”
“I was more headstrong than most, and when I was sixteen, I made a terrible mistake.” She drew a quivering breath. “A fast-talking, handsome young wrangler came to work on my father’s spread, and I fancied myself in love with him. When I got in the family way, the wrangler showed his true colors and lit out for parts unknown. My father was a stern, prideful man. Rather than endure the shame of it, he sent me away to have my child in secrecy. My baby was given up for adoption, and no one at home ever knew about it, not even Darby.
“When I returned home, Darby seemed to sense that I needed a friend. It was a difficult time for me. My father was an unforgiving man. But Darby was always a support to me. He never said much,” she added with a smile, “but that’s just Darby. With a little maturity under my belt, I began to appreciate the man behind the quietness. He wasn’t a slick-talking charmer, to say the least, but he was steady, and he was true, and I came to love him.”
“How did your father react to that?” Joseph asked.
“He never knew. He would have objected, I’m sure. Darby’s only assets were his horse and saddle, and my father would have wanted me to marry a landowner. No matter. The relationship was doomed from the start. When Darby eventually asked me to marry him, my answer had to be no.”
Joseph frowned. “But why? If you loved him, why didn’t you marry him?”
“I said no because I loved him,” she said softly. Then she waved her hand. “It made sense to me at the time, Joseph. I was ruined—tarnished was the word for it back then. I believed with all my heart that Darby deserved better, someone pure and untouched.”
“That’s plum crazy.”
She laughed and wiped her cheeks with palsied hands. “Yes, well, looking back on it, I realize that a woman can bring far more important things to a marriage than her virginity, and I deeply regret that I was such a misguided little fool. But there you have it. I did what I thought was right at the time—a great sacrifice for love. I was all of—what—eighteen? Girls can be very dramatic at that age, and I had no mother to set me straight. If I’d had a mother, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten into such a pickle in the first place. But I didn’t, and my father hated me for bringing shame upon my family and his good name.”
“That seems mighty harsh.”
“He was a harsh man. My mother’s death nearly destroyed him. He was never the same afterward. But that’s neither here nor there. When I first came home after my time away, he called me into the barn and gave me an ultimatum. In order to remain in his household, I had to give him my solemn oath that I would never speak of my shame to anyone. As a result, I wasn’t free to tell Darby why I wouldn’t marry him. I just said no and left him to draw his own conclusions.” Her eyes went sparkly with tears again. “He drew all the wrong ones, of course, namely that I didn’t return his feelings. It was the end of our friendship, along with everything else that had grown between us. He continued to work for my father and later followed us out here to Colorado, but he always steered clear of me. It hurt him to be near me, I suppose.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Joseph asked.
She looked him dead in the eye. “So you will know, absolutely and without a doubt, that I didn’t shoot Darby McClintoch. Your brother, David, needs to go after the real killer, not waste time trying to pin it on me.”
That seemed a reasonable explanation to Joseph. “You got any idea who might have done it?”
She sighed. “I can think of no one. Darby’s as loyal and true now as he was fifty-two years ago. I honestly don’t believe he’s ever had an enemy.”
“What about Henry, Rachel’s father? Did he have enemies?”
“He had two that I’m aware of, myself and Jeb Pritchard.”
Joseph admired her honesty. She was under suspicion for shooting Darby, and she knew it, but even so, she cut herself no slack. “I know why Jeb hated Henry. But I’m not real clear on why you did.”
Amanda smiled. “I didn’t hate Henry, Joseph. I was furious with him. There’s a big difference.”
“Okay, why were you furious with him, then?”
She closed her eyes briefly. “In truth, it wasn’t so much anger at Henry that made me leave the ranch as it was anger at my father and brother. I worked like a man, back in Kentucky and out here, forever trying to regain my father’s high regard. But until the day he died, I remained the bad seed in his mind, the one who’d fallen from grace. You can’t know what it’s like to live with that, day in and day out. Coming in from work at the end of the day and having your father and brother not speak
to you over supper. Having your every idea shot down, not because it was flawed, but because it was yours. Henry was raised to look down on me. I was the wayward aunt, the one who wasn’t quite up to snuff, the one who’d brought shame upon his family.”
“So Henry knew about the child?”
“I’m not sure. He never actually said. It was his attitude toward me that rankled and hurt. I thought of his wife as a daughter and loved his babies as if they were mine. But he would never unbend toward me. It had been drilled into him all his life, I guess. I was the outcast. My father died and left me nothing. Then my brother died and left me nothing. I was getting up in years and facing possible poor health.” She glanced at her hands. “The shaking had started by then. I asked Henry to grant me a monthly stipend from his inheritance—none of the land or buildings, just a small stipend so I might feel less a beggar when I could no longer work to earn my keep.”
“And he refused.”
She nodded. “Flatly refused. It wasn’t about the money. He was a generous man. But he felt obligated to honor his grandfather and father’s wishes. They had cut me off without a cent, and it wasn’t up to him to change that.”
In that moment, Joseph honestly couldn’t blame Amanda for leaving and starting up her own small spread. He would have done the same.
“Henry wasn’t a bad man,” she went on. “He just clung to the opinions that had been drilled into his head from infancy. He was fair to a fault with everyone else. Jeb Pritchard, for instance. Henry bent over backward for that scapegrace. He just couldn’t see his way clear to be equally so to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Joseph said. In his opinion, everyone was entitled to make one bad mistake. She had been paying for hers all of her life. “It was unfair of your father to hold it against you for so long.”
She shrugged and smiled. “When is life ever fair? It was good that it all came to a head after Peter died. I needed to leave the family ranch and put the past behind me. I should have done it years before. I had a very small trust from my grandmother. I put it to work by buying a patch of land. My little spread isn’t much, but it brings in enough of an income to sustain me until I die, and it’s mine. I bend my head to no one now.”
Joseph couldn’t imagine her ever bending her head to anyone, but he kept that to himself. “So, in your opinion, Jeb Pritchard was behind the attack on your nephew and his family.”
“I can’t prove it, but, yes, I’ve always believed it was Jeb.”
Joseph drew out his pack of Crosscuts. When he tapped one out, Amanda held out her hand. “Don’t be selfish. I’ll take one, too.”
Joseph had never known a woman who smoked.
“Put your eyes back in your head. If a man asked you for a cigarette, would you stare at him like that?”
Joseph tapped her out a Crosscut. After she’d lighted up and exhaled, she said, “I worked shoulder to shoulder with men all my life, sweating with them, getting hurt with them, cursing with them. I guess I’m entitled to have a damned cigarette, if I want.”
She was, at that. Joseph chuckled. “You’re right. My apologies. I’m just not used to ladies smoking.”
“I’m not just a lady, Joseph Paxton,” she retorted. “I’m one hell of a lady, and don’t you ever forget it.”
“I won’t,” Joseph assured her. And he sincerely doubted that he ever would. Amanda Hollister was a rare gem. “There’s one more thing I’d like to ask you, though. A little off the subject, I suppose, but it troubles me, all the same.”
“What’s that?”
“Why have you never gone to see your great-niece? You’re the only family she has left.”
Her eyes darkened with pain again. “I went. Right after she came around from the coma, when she was still at Doc’s. I loved that girl like my own. Of course I went.”
“What happened?” he asked.
Amanda took a shaky drag from the cigarette. “She took one look at me and started screaming.”
When Joseph reached the Hollister place later, the first words from Rachel’s mouth were, “How is Darby?”
The anxiety that he saw in her big blue eyes prompted him to lie through his teeth. “He’s doing grand. Still weak, of course, but definitely on the mend. He’s a tough old fellow.”
Rachel beamed a smile, her shoulders slumping with relief. “Oh, I’m so glad. Did you give him my love?”
“I did. Won’t be long before he’s back over here so you can tell him yourself, though.”
The way Joseph saw it, there was no point in worrying Rachel about Darby’s condition when there was absolutely nothing she could do for him. The old foreman’s chances were still good, after all. If he went into a sudden decline and it appeared that death was imminent, Joseph would have to level with her, but the situation hadn’t come to that yet.
She was as pleased as punch when she learned that Joseph had gotten two cents more per dozen for her eggs, three cents more per pound for her cheese, and a penny more per pound for her butter.
“Lands, how did you do it? That woman squeezes a nickel until it squeaks.”
Joseph felt a couple of inches taller than he had upon entering the house. “I threatened to set up shop on the boardwalk, undercutting her prices by a penny. She knew damned well that I’d get customers, cutting her out of any profit, so she quickly saw reason.”
“Well, then.” Rachel wrinkled her nose and looked at the coins in her hand again. “My goodness, such a lot! I can afford to do some shopping.”
“Shopping, huh?” Sitting at the table, Joseph dangled a hand to scratch Buddy’s head. “And what is it you’re dying to buy?”
Joseph expected her list to include feminine items. Caitlin spent hours poring over the Montgomery Ward catalog, dreaming about this and yearning for that. Afterward, Ace sneaked behind her back to order every damned thing she’d wished for.
Rachel surprised Joseph by asking, “How much is Simone asking for flour? Did you happen to notice?”
“Two and a half cents per pound.”
“That’s highway robbery!” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Whatever is that woman thinking? We’re not in a mining town where staples bring premium prices. How about dried peaches?”
Joseph struggled to remember. “Twelve cents a pound, I think.”
“Twelve?” She came to sit at the table with a pad and pencil. “Well, that settles that. I can’t afford such nonsense. Salt?”
“Last week when I bought some, it was going for three cents a pound.”
“You’re serious? What do the Gilpatricks do with all that money?”
“Well, now, I can’t say for sure, mind you, but today Simone was wearing a shiny, light purple dress that made her look like a schooner under full sail.”
Rachel gave an unladylike snort of laughter and tucked a fingertip under her nose. “Pardon me.” Then she snorted again. “A schooner? Oh, my.”
“Imagine the cost of all that fabric. It takes more than a swatch to cover hips that broad. She can barely wedge them through a doorway. I thought for a moment she might get stuck. I was looking sharp for some lard so I could grease her up and pop her out.”
She snorted again. “Enough!” Then she fell back in her chair, dropped her pencil, and laughed until tears squeezed from her eyes.
“Does she still poke her nose in the air?”
Joseph nodded. “And flares her nostrils. She also puckers her lips all up, like as if someone just stuck dog doo-doo in her mouth.”
Rachel burst out laughing again, pressing a slender hand to her midriff and sliding into a slump on the chair. In that moment, Joseph knew beyond a doubt that he’d never clapped eyes on a more beautiful woman in his life.
The realization scared him half to death.
His ma had always told him that the very best things in life happened along when you least expected them. Okay, fine. But what if a fellow wasn’t ready? He liked Rachel, and there was no question that he felt helplessly attracted to her. But a lasting and enduring af
fection for someone surely didn’t come upon a man this quickly.
“What?” she asked, wiping tears of mirth from her cheeks. “You look so serious suddenly.”
Thinking quickly, Joseph replied, “I was just thinking how crazy life can be sometimes.” That much was true. “Here you are, pinching all your pennies to spend them at Gilpatrick’s so Simone can squander them on dresses that make her look broad as a barn door. There’s just no justice.”
“I shouldn’t have laughed,” she said, still struggling to straighten her face. “Someday I’ll be old and fat, and I’ll look like a schooner under full sail if I wear polished poplin. Especially lavender.” She shook her head. “A dark color better becomes a hefty person.”
“Lavender. Is that what that light purple color is?” Joseph couldn’t imagine Rachel ever growing fat, but if she did, he felt confident that she would still be a fine figure of a woman. “You females have a fancy name for everything. What’s wrong with light purple?”
“Purple is a deep color. Lavender is much lighter in shade.”
In his opinion, purple was purple.
She began making out her shopping a list. “There’s no hurry on any of this, mind you. The next time you go into town will be soon enough. I’m just getting low on a number of things.” She glanced up. “When I’m finished, I’ll draw up a bank draft to cover the cost. Would you mind depositing today’s profit in my bank account?”
“Not at all.”
She finished her list in short order and pushed it across the table, along with the coins that he’d brought to her. “That should keep me in staples for a spell.”
He ran his gaze over the items. Her handwriting was fluid and graceful, as pretty as the lady herself, and she had perfect spelling. His eyes jerked to a stop on one item, “w’eat flour.”
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Wheat flour.”
“You left out the H.”
Her face drained of color, and she suddenly pushed up from the table. “I’ll fill out that draft before I forget.”
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