“Like whiskey?”
“In tea?” Annie caught herself doing it again. She couldn’t keep sounding critical about everything or she would never be in a position to convince Cammy or the other women to turn away from the life they led. And what did she know? Perhaps putting whiskey in tea was the way they drank it.
“I don’t have whiskey, but Aunt Hortense likes a little blackberry brandy on special occasions.”
“Fine. That’ll be just fine.” Cammy sighed with relief when Annie went to the pantry to get the brandy and Blossom rejoined them. “Blossom,” she whispered as the girl sat down beside her, “what’s blackberry brandy taste like?”
“Fruit. My ma used to put some up after she made jam. Pa’d drink it if he couldn’t get no ’shine.” And to Annie, she said, “They didn’t hardly notice me. Pockets’s got Ruby an’ Daisy in there, singing with your aunt. That big ol’ cat has himself draped on top of the piano—”
“Dewberry?”
“Guess so, ’less you got more’n one. Ruby brought him down with her. He was hollerin’ in front of Kell’s door.”
Catching the sly looks, Annie was too generous with the brandy. They knew! She sat down and, without thinking, poured a measure of brandy into her own cup. Well, she would just brazen it out if they said anything about her going into Kell’s room to retrieve her aunt’s cat.
“Blossom, you ever see Bronc color up like he just did?”
“Bronc? Can’t say for sure. He’s so quiet most times, a body wouldn’t know he’s ’round. Even when he’s tossin’ some drunk out, he does it quietlike.”
“You don’t need to worry about your friend with him,” Cammy said to Annie.
“I realize that. Seems I’m learning all the time that I shouldn’t make judg—” The wind rattled the window so hard that Annie stopped. Even the door shook under the repeated gusts of wind hammering against it along with the heavy slash of rain. She sipped her tea, absently licking her lips to capture the added taste of the brandy. Pushing away from the table, she rose.
“Wher’ya goin’?” Blossom asked. “I say something wrong?”
“No. It’s nothing either one of you said. This storm appears to be a lasting one. The roof leaks, and if I don’t get buckets under the worse of them now, I’ll be mopping up puddles all night.”
Once again, Cammy and Blossom exchanged looks, then turned to Annie. “We can help,” they both offered.
“Help?”
“Don’t take the brain of a peahen to set a bucket ’neath a leak,” Blossom answered. “Could be our beds gettin’ wet, too.”
The offer was kindly meant, and Annie found herself accepting it with a smile. “The quicker it’s done, the sooner I can get supper started for everyone.”
“Shucks, let Cammy help you set your buckets. I’m a fair hand at cookin’. That’s if you don’t want nothin’ fancy.”
“Fancy?” Really Annie, stop parroting them. Did someone like Blossom think fried chicken was fancy? And why should she be surprised that Blossom could cook? Follow your own statement and stop making snap judgments about these people.
“I planned on having fried chicken—”
“With taters an’ gravy?”
“Mashed, of course.”
Blossom licked her wide, mobile mouth, moaning with delight while rubbing her belly.
Cammy started laughing. Annie joined her, laughing even harder when Blossom jumped up, dancing around the kitchen making claims, each more outrageous than the one before, about how good her fried chicken was.
It was minutes before they all stopped and Annie showed Blossom where everything she would need was kept. From the pantry Annie hauled out two stacks of buckets, dividing them evenly with Cammy.
“I just hope these will be enough buckets.”
“Sure looks like you’ve got a heap of leaks in that roof.”
Leading the way out of the kitchen, Annie tossed back, “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Buckets?” Li repeated. He glanced at Kell, hammering yet another stake. “How could buckets hold this much rain?” With a sweeping motion of one arm, Li indicated the downpour beyond the open sides of the stretched canvas they had labored to erect.
“It’s just an expression. Another saying that folks have regardless of whether or not it makes any sense.” Kell stared in disgust as rivulets of water snaked their way over the level ground clearing. When he had gone out scouting for a place to reopen while the rebuilding went on, he had wanted to pick the first clear spot he found, for the ground was higher, but it was nearly two miles out of town. For his purpose, he needed to be as close to Loving as possible.
“At least the whiskey’ll stay dry,” Kell muttered, taking another swing at the last stake. He checked the ropes on his side of the open-sided tent and saw that Li was doing the same across from him.
He had muscles aching that he had forgotten he had. And he was still annoyed that Li had paid so much for the canvas. “Still can’t understand how you let Lockwood swindle you into paying so much for these moldy old wagon covers. He should have paid you to take them off his hands. If any more rain collects up there, the whole thing will come down.”
“Barrels would be better. We could have put them at the corners. I should have asked Lockwood if he had any empty ones.”
“Barrels? Who the hell said anything about barrels?”
“I did. To collect the rain.” Li used his booted foot to tamp down the dirt around a stake, then moved on to the next one. “If you feel cheated by my bargaining, Kell, you should have done it. Lockwood is a man who believes it is his duty to cheat anyone who’s not his race.”
“There’s too many of his kind, Li. Don’t think about it. Christ, you know, you’re real touchy today.”
Li didn’t answer him, and as the silence between them grew, it bothered Kell. He started toward Li, just as the other man spoke.
“There is a bitter taste on my tongue.”
“Ah, so that’s it. I wish you’d said something before, Li. Can’t see why it should bother you. You’ve lied for me before this,” Kell reminded him.
“Lied to protect you, yes. And I would lie again. These words you asked me to say against you were hard to speak. I truly do not believe you are fit only for the worms to feast upon. To say that you beat me—”
“Is the damn truth! You haven’t won one poker game yet. And you know why you had to begin with Lockwood. He sees everyone in town and outside it. If someone is looking to drive us out, who better to approach than you, Li? You’re discontented. You haven’t got the good sense God gave a mule ’cause you’re a pigtail-swinging Chinaman. You’re the only one who’d be believed.”
Kell set his hammer down and walked to his friend. He met Li’s black, almond-shaped eyes with a level look. “You know it isn’t true. I know it isn’t true. Who the hell else matters, Li?”
“No one.”
“Good. We agree. Let’s break open a bottle and have a drink to that. Besides, I want to taste what my brother paid for.” Kell moved to the wagon’s side and lifted the canvas. Li used his hammer to pry open the wooden slats on a case of Old Crow and lifted out the first bottle.
Kell took it, pulling the cork. “Might be the real thing, after all.” He sniffed the top, took a small taste, then upended the bottle for a healthy swallow. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he handed it to Li.
“Not bad. Not bad at all. At least it’s not that Shelby Lemonade.” Kell grinned. “Can’t figure how a man bellies up to the bar and drinks that booze-blinding stuff.”
“Good for the heart, I have been told,” Li answered, passing the bottle back.
“Strychnine’s good for the heart?”
“You do not agree? Perhaps it is the tobacco juice?”
“Alkali water, for sure.” Kell guzzled another drink. “Don’t forget the alcohol. Can’t make any coffin varnish without it.” He waited until Li lifted the
bottle to his mouth. “Did you really tell Lockwood I wasn’t fit for a worm feast?”
His timing earned him a whiskey shower. Li started choking. Kell pounded him on his back, laughing when Li began a rapid-fire accounting of exactly what he had told the mercantile owner about him.
“Getting into my ancestry was a bit much, Li. But you could be right. There may not be a noble, honorable person among them.”
“We are still friends?”
Kell eyed the hand Li held out to him. He caught the gleam in Li’s black, almond-shaped eyes and shook his head. Backing away, he began to circle Li, even knowing the man could beat him any day of the week, drunk or sober. When Li set the bottle on top of the crates in the wagon, Kell darted to the side.
Too quickly. His boots hit a mud patch and he went down.
This time it was Li who laughed.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me up.”
“Leaving you there will save me from exerting myself to place you back on the ground.”
“Sure of yourself, aren’t you? One of these days, Li, I might surprise you.”
Clasping his hands in a prayerlike pose, Li then bowed low. “Upon the day you beat me, this most humble master will give forth his most honorable title. This will bring me great joy to see my most worthy student honor my teachings.”
“Honor, hell. And you don’t sound very humble to me.” Struggling, Kell managed to get to his feet, leaving behind mud prints on his pants and shirt.
“Li, we’ve done all we can today. You go back and I’ll stand first watch.”
“You go.”
Kell wondered why Li was refusing. The man had no liking for mud and rain, having slept in the open too many nights without even a blanket to ward off a chill. It was a long time ago, long before Kell had won him in a card game, but Li had a long memory.
He wasn’t about to go back to the boardinghouse. The less he saw of Annie Muldoon, the better for him. Li had no such problem, and Kell said as much.
“I do not wish to leave you here alone. I am not ready to part company with you, Kell. You believe these people are not killers. I do not share that belief.”
“Fine. Send Bronc to stay.” Kell lifted out his rifle and a box of shells from the wagon’s planked seat. “Or tell me the reason why you don’t want to go back to the boardinghouse. There’s a false note in your voice, Li. I learned to read that from you.”
“So the student becomes the master.”
“Stop handing out your vague statements that tell me nothing. No,” Kell amended, “that’s not true. By not telling me why, you confirm there’s more to it.”
Kell set his loaded rifle back on the wagon seat and began pulling off the canvas that covered the cases of whiskey.
“If you’re staying, help me unload so we can have a dry bed of sorts.”
They worked in silence, stacking the crates against the side of the wagon until the flatbed was empty. Kell jumped up and spread out the canvas, eyeing it with distaste.
“You, at least, could have a dry, comfortable bed to sleep in.”
“I will not—” Li stopped and looked up at Kell. “My reasons are much like yours. I do not wish to spend time with the little one.”
“Annie? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Annie, is it? No longer Muldoon?”
“Never mind what I call her. What has she got to do with you not going back to the boardinghouse?”
“The thought makes you angry?”
“Damn right it does, Li. Now answer me.”
“She has nothing to do with my reason for not going back. When I spoke of the little one, I thought of Fawn.”
“Fawn?” Kell repeated the name, but he caught Li’s grin and realized what he had admitted. Nothing he could say would be believed. Not by Li. Still, he made an attempt.
“It was the whiskey talking. I couldn’t care less what you or anyone said about Muldoon.”
“Yes, I am sure you believe that.” Li gazed out at the unabated rain. “Fawn is a wounded bird.”
“So heal her, if it matters so much.”
“Your Annie does not know what made her silent.”
“She’s not my Annie. Muldoon’s a joker in a poorly dealt hand. That’s all she is, Li,” Kell added in a voice laced with warning.
“She is so young. Her eyes bring to mind an ancient one who has lived too long and has seen too little of joy.”
“She’s not that young. If she’s given you a bad case of horn colic, mooning around here won’t cure it.”
“Fawn trusts me.”
“What the hell has that got to do with anything? If you want her—”
“I am a prudent man, Kell.”
“News for you, my friend. You sound more like a smitten swain to me.” Kell bunched up one corner of the canvas to pillow his head. He knew he wasn’t going to sleep, but he settled himself down on the planked bed and closed his eyes nevertheless.
Minutes later Kell sat up. Li was still staring out at the rain. He swore to himself that Li had mentioned Annie. He wasn’t going to get any rest with another Irish toothache. It was bad enough when it happened near the woman, but he had come to a poor pass when just the mention of her name disturbed the fit of his pants.
“If you’re not going to sleep,” Kell called out, “grab that bottle and we’ll finish it.”
The whiskey was warming, enough so that Kell dozed off, but when he awoke, damp and aching, he found that Li still stood watch. Groaning and cursing that old age was finally catching up with him, Kell left the wagon and joined Li near the edge of the canvas.
“Damn rain’s enough to send me heading down to Mexico.”
“You have become a creature spoiled by comfort, Kell. Go back to the boardinghouse. It is long after midnight. I will stay and keep watch.”
When Kell didn’t answer him, Li turned to look at him. He could not make out his features, but only the tired set of his shoulders. “You have not slept in too many nights. If you push yourself now, who will watch tomorrow night?”
“All right. I give. You don’t want my company, I’m out of here.”
It wasn’t that far to walk back to the boardinghouse, and the thought of a dry, soft bed, even without a body to warm it, enticed Kell like four pilgrims at a poker table.
Chapter 10
Chilled to the bone by the time he entered the darkened lobby, Kell reminded himself to tell Annie to start locking the doors. Tonight, though, he was glad she hadn’t. The last thing he needed was another no-win confrontation with her. Li had been right; he had pushed himself too hard the last few days.
His boots made sloshing noises as he wearily climbed the stairs. He felt like a man who’d been hit by a walleyed bronc gone loco. The whiskey, the cold, and his dogged tiredness had him staggering into his room. He didn’t bother with the lamp, and only the thought of sleeping dry made him bother to kick off his boots.
He felt his way around the room until he reached the washstand. Stripping off his wet clothes, he managed a few swipes with the towel before the thought of sleep beckoned him to find the bed.
He hit his shin on the corner post of the bedstead. “Damn it! It’s as black as a full house of spades,” he swore, pulling back the quilt and sheet. He ignored the pain racing up and down his leg, his eyes already closed when he flopped stomach down on the bed. Kell barely had the strength left to yank the quilt over him.
Something cold and wet tickled his ear. Kell drew the cover up to his neck. Sleep was all he wanted, all his body craved. His head nestled deeper into the soft, goosedown pillow that smelled of something sweet and warm as sunshine. And feathers. Wet feathers.
And the pillow wasn’t warm. It was damp. Kell inched over and grabbed hold of the other pillow, shoving it beneath his head.
“Better,” he grumbled.
Moments later he struggled to open his eyes. His lids felt as if the grit of every
two-bit town he had hit in the past year had settled on them. A drop of water trickled down his forehead. Kell rolled over, gave the pillows a halfhearted punch, and settled himself again.
Water rolled down his cheek. “Shoulda dried hair,” he muttered. Something was wrong. His body was dragging him into the sleep he craved, but his mind kept sending him some message.
Water. There was something wrong about water…
Another drop trickled from his forehead, rolling back into his hair. A one-eyed squint was all he could manage.
Plop! Water hit his eye. Kell snarled, knuckled his eye, and forced his lids up. Wide-eyed, he stared, trying to make sense of what was happening to him.
He could still hear the rain. No longer storming, it fell in softer, but steady patter. The pillow had already been damp when he hit the bed. This much thinking taxed his weary mind.
Water fell on his nose. He raised his hand to wipe it away and caught another drop. Kell looked up. He couldn’t see the blasted ceiling in the dark, but he knew—as sure as any gambler knew when lady luck up and left him to flirt at some other man’s table—that he was not going to get any sleep in this bed.
Not tonight.
Aware that his temper was never being far from exploding, Kell fought to remain calm. As the drops dribbled down his chin though, he could feel the temper surge inside him.
“Muldoon.” Just whispering her name from between his clenched teeth sent exhaustion fleeing. He kicked off the covers and wore a sheet of goose bumps.
“This time I will strangle her.” Water hit his shoulder. Another drop wove a cold path down his beard-stubbled cheek.
“That does it!” He bounded off the bed. “First it’s stealing. Then someone tries to use me and mine for a down-home barbecue. This isn’t a town. It’s a pit full of rattlers. And now that damn witch is trying to drown me!”
Kell flung open the door to the hallway, and a cold draft swept over his naked body. It wasn’t the chill that sent him back into his room. Only the thought that one Annie Muldoon would likely expire of apoplexy if she saw him in Adam’s glory and thereby cheat him of the pleasure of killing her sent him searching for a pair of pants. Dry ones.
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