Summer Breeze

by Catherine Anderson

  She returned to the table, opened a large red ledger, and bent to write. Moments later, when she handed him the draft, she said, “I think that will cover everything. You can redeposit anything left over next week.”

  She’d written the draft for two dollars, which was plenty enough to cover everything she needed, with some extra. What troubled him was her signature, Rac’el ’Ollister. She’d left out both Hs. He angled her a searching look.

  “How is your name spelled, Rachel?”

  She pushed up from the chair and turned away, presenting him with her back. “My goodness, I didn’t realize the time. I need to start supper.”

  Joseph followed her with a bewildered gaze. The set of her shoulders told him that she was upset about something, but he didn’t know what. He went back to studying her list, and there, right at the top, she’d written and underlined T’ings needed from town. Again, no H.

  Why did she avoid writing that letter? He didn’t for a moment believe that she had misspelled her own name or the other words. Her spelling was perfect, otherwise. And she’d also replaced the missing Hs with apostrophes. In each instance, she knew very well that she had made an omission.

  For reasons beyond him, she simply hadn’t written it in.

  Shortly after supper, Joseph heard the faint sound of David’s voice drifting to them from the front of the house. Rachel jumped as if she’d been stuck with a pin.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “I did.” Joseph pushed up from the table. “It’s my brother David. But where the hell is he?” He stepped close to the archway door. “Ah, he’s around the side of the house at the window, I’ll bet.” He sighed at the interruption to their reading. Tom Sawyer, Joe Harper, and Huck had just developed a distaste for “normal” society and run away to Jackson Island, smack dab in the middle of the Mississippi River. “I’d better go see what he wants.”

  Joseph went to collect his jacket from where it lay on his pallet in the water closet. When he reentered the kitchen, he gave Rachel a questioning look. “Do you care if I invite him in?”

  Rachel jerked her gaze to the door. “In here, you mean?”

  Joseph didn’t know what he’d been thinking. Of course she wouldn’t welcome a male guest. It was just—well, she seemed so normal here inside the kitchen. It was hard for him to remember that she was terrified of almost everything beyond these walls.

  “Never mind.” He drew on his coat. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  She wrung her hands at her waist. “You can have him in. He is your brother, after all, and the marshal, to boot. I’m fine with it. He’s surely safe.”

  Safe. Joseph stopped and turned from the archway. He didn’t want to push too much at her too quickly. “That’s all right. I can have a cigarette while I’m out there.”

  “No, please. I’ll enjoy having him come in for a bit. Just bring him in through the window, if you don’t mind. I feel better about lifting the bar on this door because it opens into the rest of the house.”

  Where there were walls. Here he was, dreaming about building her a courtyard, and just the thought of opening an outside door unnerved her. “Actually, David probably wants to talk about marshaling stuff. You’d find it boring.”

  “No, really, Joseph. I want you to bring him in. Please.”

  Joseph could see her pulse pounding at the base of her throat and knew the situation frightened her. But maybe this was something she needed to do.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Bring him in. I’ll put on some coffee.”

  Joseph grabbed a lantern and slipped out into the dining room. He heard the bar drop behind him. That alone bore testimony to her illness. He’d be right back, but she still needed her barricade secured for the few moments that he would be gone.

  David had tethered his horse to a porch post and was smoking a cigarette when Joseph rounded the corner of the house.

  “Howdy,” he said.

  Joseph peered at him through the darkness. “What brings you out so late?”

  “It’s time for me to visit my suspects again. I was wondering if you might like to ride along with me tomorrow. I’m hoping to visit several of the surrounding ranches to question the owners and their hired hands, plus Pritchard and Amanda Hollister. Ace says that he’s wallowed out a spot on the porch step and doesn’t mind coming over to sit for a spell.”

  Joseph chuckled. “If he doesn’t mind, I reckon I can be away for a while. I’m willing to let you make a tour of the ranches alone to talk to the landowners and hired hands, but I think it best that you don’t go over to Pritchard’s place by yourself.” He fell into a lengthy recounting of his conversation with Amanda Hollister. “In her opinion, Jeb killed Henry and the others and may have shot Darby.”

  “You think she’s telling the truth?” David asked.

  Joseph shivered inside his unbuttoned jacket. “That old woman loves Darby McClintoch. I’d go to the bank on that, and I think she told me true about her falling out with Henry as well.”

  David chewed on that for a second. “Well, then, I reckon Jeb bears watching. If he shot Darby, he’ll come after Miss Rachel sooner or later. It’s a good thing you’re camping out over here.”

  “Actually, it’s a little better than camping out now. You had supper?”

  “Not yet. I keep late hours on Sunday, waiting for all the wranglers to leave town. Caitlin always saves something on the warmer for me.”

  Joseph clapped his brother on the shoulder. “We just cleared the table. Rachel boiled up some thick slabs of salt pork, floured them, and fried them to a turn. And there’s mashed potatoes, home-canned corn, and apple crisp for dessert, plus fresh coffee.”

  “You shittin’ me?”

  Joseph flashed a grin. “I’ve got it really rough.”

  “And here I’ve been feeling sorry for you, having to stay over here with a crazy woman. If she cooks, you can’t complain.”

  Joseph had lost the will to complain about much of anything. “Come on in. It’s still a cumbersome entry, through the window like a thief.”

  Once inside Henry and Marie Hollister’s bedroom, David apparently had second thoughts. As Joseph lifted the lantern to light their way back through the house, David said, “This is creepy. It looks like the people just left and will be back at any moment.”

  “I know. Time has stood still in most parts of this house. But the kitchen at the back is as normal as can be.”

  “You sure that woman wants me in there?”

  That woman? Joseph pictured Rachel’s sweet face and knew his brother was in for a big surprise. He led the way up the hall. “If she didn’t want you in there, she wouldn’t have invited you.”

  When Joseph tapped on the door, Rachel almost jumped out of her skin. Buddy scampered about and gave a happy bark. It was definitely Joseph, she decided. But even though the dog had identified the person on the other side of the partition, Rachel couldn’t go on faith.

  “Joseph, is that you?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, it’s me. Who else would it be?”

  Rachel started to lift the bar, but then she froze. His brother, a complete stranger, was with him. She’d felt a lot braver a few minutes ago when she’d insisted on his being invited in. Joseph had been with her then. Everything had come to feel a little less scary with Joseph beside her.

  She heard an unfamiliar voice say, “You sure she’s okay with this?” And then she heard Joseph reply, “Of course she’s okay with it. Would I have asked you in otherwise?”

  Rachel lifted the bar, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually open the door. She retreated a few steps, hugged her waist, and called, “It’s open, Joseph. You can come in.”

  The door cracked open, and Joseph’s blond hair appeared. His blazing blue eyes came next, questioning her before he pushed the portal all the way open. In the next instant, she had a guest walking into her kitchen. He was about Joseph’s height, bundled up in a sheepskin jacket with the collar t
urned up. His Stetson covered him from the crown of his head down to just above his ears. Unlike Joseph, he had closely cropped hair. She couldn’t tell the color. But then he nudged up the brim of his hat, and she saw his eyes. Joseph blue. And his face was similar, too. Not nearly as handsome as Joseph’s, in her opinion, but he had the same high-bridged nose, prominent cheekbones, and strong jaw.

  “Howdy,” he said and then swept off the Stetson.

  Rachel gazed up at him, wondering why on earth she’d felt so afraid. He was cute as a button. His face was still boyishly soft where Joseph’s had hardened and become chiseled.

  “Hello. You must be David.”

  David sent Joseph a wondering look. Then he flashed Rachel a broad grin. “Yes, ma’am, that’d be me.”

  Joseph dropped the bar, clapped his brother on the shoulder, and said, “Take off that jacket. Rachel, I promised him some supper. We have plenty left over, don’t we?”

  “Of course.” She took David’s coat. The chill of night clung to it. She ran her hands over the leather. It even smelled of the outdoors. “Please, David, have a seat at the table. The food is still warm, and you’re more than welcome.”

  The two men sat while Rachel bustled around the kitchen, serving David up a plate. Joy surged into her throat, a wonderful warm feeling that soon suffused her entire body. She was serving a guest. And she wasn’t having any problem with her breathing at all. He was a stranger, yes, but he wasn’t, not really. He was Joseph’s brother, Caitlin’s brother-in-law. Rachel felt almost as if she knew him.

  As David tucked into his meal, Rachel joined them at the table. Joseph had run out of things to talk about and fallen silent. When she sat across from him, he pushed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer toward her. “Read to us, darlin’. David’s never heard this story, either.”

  “But we’ve already read the first part,” she protested.

  “But now we’re at a good part,” Joseph retorted. “Trust me, he’ll like it.”

  Rachel smoothed the pages and started to read. In the relative silence, she heard David’s jaw popping just as Joseph’s did when he chewed, and a lovely calm settled over her.

  Tom was sneaking off Jackson Island in the dark of night to return home and leave a note for Aunt Polly so she wouldn’t think he was dead. Only when Tom entered the house, he heard his aunt and Mrs. Harper making plans for his burial. Tom returned to the island, and he and his friends decided to sneak back into town later so they could attend their own funerals before revealing that they were alive.

  Rachel started to turn the page and realized that David had stopped eating. She glanced up, saw that he was staring at her, and asked, “Is the food gone bad?”

  David jerked erect and went back to eating. Cheek puffed out with meat, he said, “No, ma’am. The food’s delicious. I’ve just never heard of anybody attending his own funeral.”

  Rachel smiled and went back to reading. Once back in school, Tom and his friends were the envy of every pupil. But Tom still hadn’t won back Becky’s heart.

  “Who’s Becky?” David asked.

  Joseph briefly synopsized the story up until that point and then motioned for Rachel to keep reading.

  Tom Sawyer caught Becky reading the schoolmaster’s book, startled her so badly that she jumped in surprise and accidentally broke the book. Later that day, when the schoolmaster accused Becky of the crime, Tom stepped forward and assumed the blame. As a result, he received the punishment in Becky’s stead and finally earned her fond regard.

  “What a man won’t do for love,” David said.

  “Quiet,” Joseph said. “Let her read.”

  While David enjoyed Rachel’s apple crisp for dessert, Muff Potter’s trial began. The entire town had already convicted the innocent man. Tom and Huck were racked with guilt, for they’d seen Injun Joe kill the doctor with their own eyes and knew that Muff was innocent. Their guilt only increased when Muff thanked them for being so kind to him.

  David drew out his watch to note the time. “This has been such a nice evening,” he said. “But if I don’t head on home, I’ll be dragging in my tracks come morning. It’s after nine o’clock.”

  Rachel closed the book. In the distant past, she’d once had to worry about time schedules. “It’s been lovely having you,” she told David. “I hope you’ll come again.”

  David reached out to tap the book. “I’ll be back. Just don’t read any more without me.”

  “No way am I holding to that,” Joseph protested. “Not unless you come back tomorrow night to hear more. I’m not waiting a week or something.”

  It was agreed that David would return the following evening for supper, only at an earlier hour so he might eat with Rachel and Joseph. Afterward, it was decided, they would take turns reading the story aloud.

  Joseph saw his brother out, taking Buddy along with him for a run before bedtime. Rachel hustled about the kitchen while they were gone, doing up the last-minute dishes and putting the food in the icebox. She was just straightening the table when Joseph tapped on the archway door.

  Swallowing down what she knew was irrational trepidation, she scurried across the room. Leaning close, she called, “Joseph is that you?”

  “Nope, it’s Injun Joe,” he called back.

  Buddy answered with a yaw-yaw-yaw. She giggled and lifted the bar, allowing Joseph to push into the room, his dog squeezing through ahead of him.

  “Well, now,” he said, “that was fun. I think David’s addicted to Tom Sawyer.” He turned to secure the door. “Now that you’re all buttoned up in here I’ll collect my bedroll and sleep in the dining room again tonight.”

  “But no heat gets in there.”

  “As long as I’ve got a windbreak, I can sleep outside in the dead of winter. Buddy and I’ll be fine.” He cut her a meaningful look. “You and I bunking in the same room isn’t appropriate.”

  That made no sense to Rachel at all. “But, Joseph, who will ever know?”

  “I’ll know,” he replied.

  “So sleep in the water closet, then. That’s a different room, and it’ll be warmer in there.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You still feeling nervous?”

  For the time being, the barred door over the archway provided a sufficient barrier to make her feel safe. “A little, yes.” That wasn’t really a lie. She always felt just a little nervous. “I’ll feel safer if you’re in here with me.”

  “You sure?”

  Rachel had never been more certain of anything in her life.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following afternoon, David was none too pleased when Joseph confessed that he’d failed to divulge part of the conversation that he’d had with Amanda Hollister the prior day.

  “Rachel took one look at her and started screaming?” David wheeled his horse around and gave Joseph an accusing look. “Here I just spent ten minutes bedeviling Jeb Pritchard, and now you tell me?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was important when you and I talked last night.”

  “Not important? You know damned well what this implies, Joseph. Rachel saw something that day, possibly something she doesn’t even remember, and it made her terrified of her aunt.”

  “It’s hard for me to believe that,” Joseph argued. “I know it’s the obvious conclusion, David. But remember what you said? The obvious and easy answer is seldom the right one. There’s something about that old lady. I just can’t help but like her. And I can’t wrap my mind around her being a murderer.”

  “Well, I can. She wants that ranch.”

  “For what reason? She’s an old, palsied woman. She has no legal heirs. I know a lot of people are sentimental about land that’s been in their family for a few generations, but so sentimental that they’d kill for it? I’m sorry. It seemed like a plausible theory in the beginning, but now that I’ve met Amanda, I just can’t believe it of her.”

  “It’s a good thing you aren’t a lawman. I never knew you were such a softy.”


  Joseph gave his brother a narrow-eyed glare. “There’s no need to get insulting just because we have a difference of opinion.”

  David laughed and shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with having a tender heart, Joseph.”

  “I don’t have a tender heart. I’m a clear-thinking man who just happens to be a better judge of character than you are.”

  “Like hell.”

  Joseph leaned forward over his horse’s neck. “Damn it, David, that old lady loves Darby McClintoch. I’d bet my boots on it. I saw her face as she was talking. You can’t fake that kind of emotion and regret. She felt it with all her heart. Her palsy aside, how could she have shot the man she loves?”

  David held up a hand. “All right, all right. So why’d you tell me about Rachel screaming and get me in a dither, then?”

  Joseph swore and pulled out his Crosscuts. “Because there’s more.”

  “More?” David huffed with irritation. “Well, spit it out, then. I need all the facts to solve this case, Joseph, not just the ones you decide to share with me.”

  “Rachel’s a perfect speller,” Joseph said. “You heard her reading last night. The girl’s got an excellent command of the English language.”

  “How does that relate to her screaming when she saw Amanda?”

  “If you’ll shut up and listen, maybe I’ll tell you.” Joseph swallowed hard because he knew the conclusions that his brother would reach once the words were out. “Rachel can’t spell her own name.”

  David nudged up the brim of his Stetson to pin Joseph with a searching look.

  “She leaves out all the Hs. She signed a bank draft and spelled Rachel, R-A-C-E-L. And she left off the H in Hollister as well. Even stranger, she knows she’s leaving out the letters. She replaces them with an apostrophe, like we do in a contraction.”

  “Did you ask her why?”

  “She refused to talk about it.” Joseph swallowed again. “Why would she revile the letter H?”

  “Because her last name starts with it, and Amanda Hollister killed her family in cold blood?”