“Maybe you’re a terrible kisser,” she retorted, returning the wink.
“You’re an amazing woman, Katherine.”
All that Kate wanted to do was to tell him what an amazing man he was. But as she opened her mouth to speak, a voice from behind her interrupted. “Done with the mushy stuff?” Luke asked.
Embarrassed, Kate got to her feet and brushed the dirt from her skirt. She was not ashamed or embarrassed to have been caught kissing Tate. Not wanting to hear any more teasing, she wandered around to the front of the horse and rubbed its nose.
“Kid,” Tate said with a chuckle, “you’ve got terrible timing.”
“What I do?”
“Don’t try to play the dumb Indian with me,” Tate said, and began to laugh.
With the threat from the longhorn steer ended, the group continued its journey across the Texas wilderness toward Muddy Creek. Before they left the gulch, Kate marveled at the skill of the boys cutting large chunks of flesh from the dead animal. At first, the sight shocked her, but she quickly understood that the steer was a source of food they could not allow to go to waste. When the boys finished, they traveled on much as before, with the Indians spread out around the horse and Kate walking beside Tate.
The sun was high in the sky and blazing hot. Kate was thirsty but didn’t want to take any of the water should Tate need it later. She watched anxiously for any sign that he was feverish. For most of the afternoon, even with the bumpy ride of the horse-drawn travois, Tate lay with his eyes closed. The memory of his calling her “sweetheart” and asking her to kiss him kept Kate from thinking about the heat and her weariness.
After a couple of hours, Luke brought the group to a stop next to a stand of scrub oaks. Tate opened his eyes when Luke came and crouched down next to him.
“We eat now. Horse tired.”
The three Indian boys appeared, untied the travois, and moved the horse out from under it. One of the boys led the horse away while the rest positioned the travois under the shade of a tall oak tree. Luke built a small fire. In answer to Tate’s questioning eyes, Luke said, “Small creek not dry.”
“Tate needs more water,” Kate said. She took the canteen that Luke had removed from the saddle, uncapped it, and lifted Tate’s head. His eyes protested, but once the liquid met his lips, he drank thirstily.
“Now you,” he said after he had finished.
Kate took a swallow of water. Nothing had ever tasted so good. It amazed her how many things she’d taken for granted in her life in New York City: that she would always have something to drink, somewhere to sleep, and clothes to protect her body. The last couple of days had shown her how easy her life had been compared to Tate’s and Luke’s.
“Kate needs to eat,” Tate said.
“I’m fine,” Kate protested. “You’re the one who needs to eat something.”
“Don’t try to play tough with me, lady. You’re the one walking. I’m just along for the ride.”
“Some ride,” Kate scoffed.
Luke took a packet out of the saddlebag and placed it on the travois beside Tate. “Both eat.”
Tate unwrapped the food pack and gave a folded tortilla to Kate before taking one for himself. Handing the package back to Luke, he said, “Whose kitchen were you in while you were in town?”
“I not tell.”
“What will I tell your mother?”
Ignoring Tate’s ribbing, Luke joined the other boys, and the four of them spoke in their native tongue. Kate thought that it was a beautiful language, one that contrasted with Luke’s halting English. Yet again, she was reminded of the many differences between their two worlds.
After she had finished her food, Kate bent down, unbuttoned Tate’s shirt, and inspected his wounds. No fresh blood had seeped onto the bandages. Gently lifting them, she examined the cuts. They didn’t look like they had improved, but they didn’t look any worse either.
“How much farther do we have to go?” she asked.
“Not far. Shouldn’t take but another couple of hours.”
“How do you feel?”
“I’ve come this far.” He smiled weakly. “I’ll make it.”
“I know you will.”
After they had all eaten and the horse had been watered, they moved out. A bank of clouds had rolled in from the west, and the sun soon disappeared behind them. The cooler air was a welcome relief. Though she was dog tired, Kate concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Her mind drifted ahead to the phone call that she would make to her father. It would be hard to tell him everything that had happened, but she knew that she must. He would be surprised to know that his partner, William Jacobs, had played a role in her kidnapping. She would have liked to forget about Edwin’s part in the whole sordid affair, but she couldn’t. No matter what he told her back in the cabin, he had still gone along with his uncle’s plan and was just as guilty.
Finally, after what had seemed an endless afternoon, the group topped a hill and paused, looking down into a small valley. There, in the scant light of the setting sun, was a town. Wood-framed buildings lined the lone street that split the town in half. A couple of red dirt roads branched out from the main street. They were lined with small houses. Behind each house was a shed or barn, many with a cow staked nearby. What caught Kate’s eye was a white church steeple poking skyward on the far side of the town. It seemed out of place in this rough setting.
“Is that Muddy Creek?” Kate asked.
“Such as it is,” Tate answered. He rose up on his elbow and yelled to the boy leading the horse. He spoke in the boy’s native language. The boy then called out. Soon Luke came trotting back to the travois.
Kate was confused about why they had stopped. She was anxious to get Tate to town to a doctor.
“We have to be patient,” Tate explained. “We don’t know if either of your kidnappers is there. For all we know, they’ve been waiting for us to come in. We’re in no condition to defend ourselves against them now, and Lyle hasn’t had time to get here.”
“I almost hope they are there,” Kate scowled. Anger was in her voice.
“Don’t worry. Their time will come.” Turning to Luke, Tate asked, “Did you see a big black car when you went in to send the telegram?”
“Not many cars in town. More horses.”
“Were there a couple of men that looked like city folks?”
“No. I not look around. I get hell out of there.”
“Your mother wouldn’t be pleased to hear you swear like that. You’re just a kid,” Tate said as he turned his head and winked at Kate.
“I not swear at mother.”
If the truth were to be told, Tate didn’t much want to go into the town. What he wanted was to go out to the ranch to see how Emily was and to let Jorge and Yelena know that he was all right. But before that happened, Kate needed to phone her father and he needed to see a doctor.
“Luke,” he finally said, “someone should go into town and see if the way is clear to the doctor’s office.”
“I’ll write a note and explain,” Kate said. She reached for her bag and took out the envelope that had contained the letter from her uncle. She sat down on a nearby rock and began to write. When she finished, she went over to Tate to read the message.
“I explained that you have knife wounds and need attention as soon as possible. I wrote that I was a nurse and told him what I had done to treat your injuries. I also explained that two men are hunting for us and that we want to come into his office without being seen.”
“That’s good.”
Kate folded the letter and handed it to Luke. Without a word, the boy took off at a trot and was soon lost to sight. Kate squatted down beside the travois and placed her hand on Tate’s. Her time with him was almost over. Once he was treated and she had contacted her father, they would part. The two of them sat in silence as the sun began to set behind the western hills.
“Now we wait,” she said.
Chapter 22
HOW LONG DO WE HAVE
TO WAIT FOR THAT SHITHEAD?
Squirrelly lounged on the bunk. He lay flat on his back, his bent arm under his head. He’d spent the last couple of hours sleeping; his snores had nearly driven Eddy insane.
“Damn, Jacobs,” he said with a yawn. “Ain’t you ’bout bored out of your skull? This ain’t what I signed on to do! That asshole better get back soon.”
Eddy looked at Squirrelly with disgust. Even out here in the wilderness, he had washed himself and shaved, which was more than Squirrelly had managed. He’d been wearing the same clothes for days and had done little to better his personal hygiene. Quite frankly he stank. They’d been cooped up in the cabin for nearly a week, patiently waiting for word from Hayden, but none had come. They didn’t dare move, for fear that he might return, with or without Kate. Their nerves were becoming frayed.
“I wouldn’t call him that to his face,” Eddy cautioned.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re always tryin’ to tell me somethin’.” Squirrelly rolled off the bunk and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table. He tried to mimic Eddy as he gruffly said, “Don’t do this. Don’t do that. Don’t mess with the girl. Don’t talk to Hayden that way. I’m sick of it!”
“Don’t drink too much of that.” Inside, Eddy felt a bit of satisfaction knowing that he was doing exactly what Squir-relly hated most. “It’s not as if you’re much good to me sober, but I don’t want you getting drunk.”
Squirrelly stared at him belligerently for a moment before taking a deep drink straight from the bottle. Some of the dark liquor spilled and rolled down his chin onto his shirt
“That’s more like it,” Squirrelly said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Shitfire! As soon as that crazy man gets back here with that bitch, I’m for gettin’ the hell outta here. Muddy Creek ain’t much, but there’s gotta be a honky-tonk around here somewhere.”
“Keep your mind on the job you’re getting paid for.”
“Ain’t but one thing I keep my mind on,” Squirrelly said as he waved the bottle around. He took another drink of the whiskey before adding, “Screwin’.”
Eddy got up out of his chair and left the cabin. He knew that if he stayed, he would hit the man in his filthy mouth. He’d never met a person like him before—a person who wasn’t happy unless he was bitching about something. Let him bitch alone.
Outside, he took a deep breath. The sun was setting in the west, and the night air felt cool. Texas wasn’t so bad. For someone raised in New York City, being out in wide-open spaces was a pleasant change. He could see the stars, and he could hear a pin drop; the hustle and bustle of the city was something he didn’t miss. Although he had to admit he’d rather go out to a party or visit a club than spend another night cooped up with that stupid son of a bitch.
If everything had gone according to plan, his uncle would have received the money by now. William Jacobs was the kind of man who got what he wanted, and what he wanted more than anything else was money. Soon he’d try to take the steelworks away from Kate’s father.
Eddy had been aware from the beginning that Squirrelly was more than an extra hand to help him with the kidnapping. Once William had the money, Eddy was sure that it would be Squirrelly’s job to get rid of both him and Kate. His uncle couldn’t afford to have either one of them come back. Hell, Hayden was probably hired to get rid of Squirrelly. William Jacobs wasn’t the type of man who liked to leave loose ends.
Things were moving quickly. Soon he’d have to go into town to see if there was a telegram. He could only imagine how furious his uncle would be if he found out that Kate had escaped. If she were to make it to a telephone, his goose would be cooked. By the time that happened, Edwin Jacobs intended to be far away in Mexico.
As his thoughts turned to Kate, he hoped that whoever was with her knew how to take care of her. It had been five days since Hayden set out after them. If he caught up with her, would he kill Kate or bring her back? The thought of her being alone with him sent a chill down Eddy’s spine. He shook his head. He just had to believe that she would be all right.
“What the hell you doin’ out there?”
Eddy turned to see Squirrelly leaning against the door frame, the bottle of whiskey held loosely in one hand.
“None of your business.” He could tell that Squirrelly was well on his way to getting drunk. His words were beginning to slur, and his mouth was slack.
“I ain’t buyin’ that line of bullshit. We’re in this together. Everythin’ you do is my business.”
“If that’s the case, then let go of that bottle. We’re going to town in the morning, and I won’t take you if you have a hangover.”
“Shitfire!” Squirrelly shouted. “I’m just gettin’ started!”
Eddy walked past the other man to the water bucket, picked it up, and headed for the back door.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered, and went back outside.
“What in the hell, Tate! The lady says you went out and got yourself knifed.”
Tate, bare-chested, lay on the cot in Dr. Duval’s office. He was bone-tired from the effort it had taken to get from the travois through the back door. Even though Luke and Kate had helped steady him, he’d felt like his legs would fall out from under him at any moment. He had not realized how weak he was. The doctor removed the petticoat that Kate had wrapped around Tate’s waist, and nodded his head in approval.
“You did a good job,” he said to Kate.
“I had to use what was on hand,” she replied.
“Never thought that I’d ever see you wearing a woman’s petticoat, Tate,” the doctor said. “Wait till I tell the boys at the billiard parlor.”
“You would, you old quack.”
“Old?” The doctor raised one eyebrow. “Hell, I’m not much older than you are. Besides, I’m not the one out brawling and getting cut up with a knife. You’ve never seen me limping back into town in a woman’s petticoat.”
Patrick Duval came to Muddy Creek three years earlier. A stocky man with curly black hair, a crooked nose, and a constant grin, he couldn’t be called handsome, but he wasn’t homely either. Unmarried, though there was no shortage of girls who would have been more than happy to land him, he was dedicated to his profession. Tate knew him as a rough but kind man, one he would want on his side in a brawl. He’d been bringing Emily to him ever since he arrived in town, and the little girl had taken an instant liking to him.
“Then hurry it up, sawbones. Quit your jawin’ and patch me up.”
“Watch yourself. You’re in my hands now.”
The doctor worked quickly and efficiently. He washed the blood from around the cut in Tate’s side. He probed the wound gently with his fingers. At the grimace on Tate’s face, he went back to the cabinet.
“Can I help, Doctor?” Kate turned from the sink, where she had been scrubbing her hands. While the doctor’s office was smaller than the clinic in which she had worked, she felt comfortable amid the equipment.
“Thankfully it doesn’t look like there was any real damage. With the way that the bleeding stopped, I’m still going to have to sew him up. I’ll give him a shot of morphine first.”
“I can take care of that, Doctor,” Kate offered.
While Kate was preparing the shot, Dr. Duval looked at the slash across Tate’s chest and at the smaller cut in his arm. “Do you want to keep that dimple in your chin, or do you want me to sew it up?”
Tate smiled. “What do you think, Doc?”
“You’d be awfully pretty with it, just like that Gable fellow in the movies.”
“Don’t be funny. I’m laying here in pain and you’re making jokes. Get on with it so I can get out to the ranch and see about Emily.”
“How is Emily doing? Is she walking any better?”
“I’m afraid not. I don’t know what to do.”
“Does she complain of her hip bothering her?” The doctor spoke as he swabbed the wound.
“It must be. Jorge said that she’s been crawling agai
n.”
As Kate busied herself preparing the shot, her mind was on the conversation between Tate and the doctor. What was the matter with Tate’s daughter? Had she had polio? Kate had learned more about Emily in the last five minutes than she had learned in the five days she had spent with Tate. He was a very private man. He had been at ease with her the night that he told her about his daughter. Evidently he hadn’t been comfortable enough to mention any illness or injury.
After the doctor had given Tate the shot of morphine, he prepared to stitch up his cuts.
Kate had watched many times as doctors at the clinic dressed knife wounds and gunshot wounds, and one time even wounds to a man who had been thrown through a glass window. But this was different. This was Tate. She could hardly bear to see the hurt on his face.
“Will you need my help, Doctor?”
“No. I should be able to handle it from here.”
“Are you all right, Kate?” Tate glanced up at her. He was more relaxed than when they had come in. The morphine had helped to ease his pain.
“I’m fine. I just thought it might be a good time for me to call my father.”
“I don’t want you going out there by yourself,” Tate said.
“I won’t be alone. Luke’s waiting outside.”
“What’s this all about?” Dr. Duval asked.
“The man who knifed me has two accomplices,” Tate explained. “They might have followed us to town.” Then to Kate, “Tell Luke to come in.”
Luke slipped into the room as soon as Kate opened the door. “Tate dead?”
“He wants to talk to you,” Kate told him.
“What you want, Tate?” Luke went to stand beside the cot.
“Take Kate to the telephone office. Take the other boys with you and keep your eyes open.”
“I keep your woman safe.”
Kate did not protest when Luke called her Tate’s woman; she rather liked the sound of it. Turning to Tate, she said, “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve talked to my father.”
“Stay close to Luke.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he only held up his hand. She placed her hand in his and gently squeezed it.
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