“That enough to keep him locked up for good, Sheriff?”
“More than enough.” Joe looked at Watts. The old sheriff had slowed down, and his belly was round. He had thick white hair and eyebrows so bushy he oughta comb them. But he was a wise man and tough enough to keep peace in Skull Gulch for the last thirty years. Pa claimed him as a good friend.
“Near as I can tell, Watts,” Sheriff Joe said, “you haven’t killed anyone yet. But not for lack of trying. In New Mexico Territory, attempted murder is enough to lock you up for the rest of your life or even hang you if the jury’s in a foul mood. But if we could have a name, we might look for the man behind this crime and go easy on you. You knew Dantalion, is that right?”
Watts looked up, sullen and angry, and all he said was, “No jail will hold me, and it won’t be because I have to break out. I’ll walk right out the front door, and you’ll apologize as I go.”
He said it with such assurance that Justin felt a chill run down his spine. There weren’t many people with the power this man claimed.
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed again as he studied the man. He asked him a few more questions, but Watts sank into complete silence and wouldn’t be budged.
A quiet movement from behind him made Justin turn to see Heath was gone. But he’d come through. That Kincaid was a mighty handy man to have around.
Justin was going to have to get used to the idea of him, especially since the man was now his brother.
4
Justin stood at the back door and watched in the falling dusk as the sheriff rode away with their prisoner. Snow gusted, the temperature had been dropping all day, and it looked like one of New Mexico’s deep freezes was coming in. He never knew how long that might hang on.
The exchange with the outlaw had left him frustrated and worried. And he wasn’t a man who liked the feeling, either. He hoped they were clear of the trouble. And he suspected they were, at least for a time, yet it wasn’t over. And with the two men possibly taken care of, if there were only two, they should be safe—at least until their unknown enemy reorganized. Someone had given Dantalion that thousand dollars in gold.
Even believing they had time to get to the bottom of this, Justin, standing in the back door, let his eyes slide from place to place, everywhere a man could hide and aim a gun. He felt the presence of a dry-gulcher hiding in the deep shadows as if murderous eyes were crawling over his skin.
“The doctor says—”
Justin yelped and whirled around.
Angie.
And she’d just witnessed him make a fool of himself, which set his temper on edge. Through clenched teeth he asked, “What did the doctor say?”
“I’m sorry to startle you.” A smile flickered on her lips and was gone. The little brat was doing her best not to laugh in his face. With his back to the outside, Justin felt he was still under a gun, so he stepped inside and slammed the door. High time . . . all the warmth had been sucked out of the kitchen.
He needed to calm down.
In a moment of rare desire to explain himself, he said, “I was looking at all the spots a man could hide out and take a shot at me. I didn’t expect anyone to come up from behind.”
All amusement was gone from her eyes. Her hair was in disarray, a mass of pretty blond curls. She pushed the curls off her face. Her hazel eyes sparked with worry, and Justin knew the worry was for him and for all the Bodens, not for herself, dragged into the middle of some strange mysterious conflict.
Justin prompted her, “The doctor?”
Now she looked startled as if she’d forgotten all about what she needed to tell him. “The doctor wants me to sleep with you.”
“What?” It was more a shout than a spoken question.
She slapped both hands over her mouth, and her cheeks flamed so bright he half expected her hair to catch fire. From behind her hands she said, “I mean, he wants me to spend the night with you.”
Justin was losing the ability to breathe.
This time she covered her eyes. Finally she managed to drop her hands and face him. “That is, to sit with Cole. He, uh . . . the doctor and I are both going to stay so someone is with Cole at all times.” She turned away, probably wishing her cheeks weren’t quite so pink.
Justin was so grateful to be distracted from the trouble they faced he could have hugged her.
Except that would be stupid.
With a visible effort she peeked over her shoulder, then faced him. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think there’s a very good chance Sadie and Heath will want to take a turn sitting with him.”
Justin was afraid he was blushing too, and that was so ridiculous it helped him get ahold of himself. “Well, that’s fine then. I—we appreciate your help, Angie. Sincerely.” He cleared his throat and forced himself to change the subject. “So, have you had some supper? Let me find Rosita.”
He had to walk straight for her because she was between him and the rest of the house. She seemed to forget exactly where she was and watched without moving.
He came right up to her, almost nose to nose, and he found it so pleasant to stand this close that it took too long to ask, “Can I get through?”
She flinched and jumped backward. It gave him some satisfaction. He’d been off-balance ever since she’d startled him. But since she’d started blushing and whispering, he felt a lot more like the one in control of the conversation.
Justin didn’t holler for Rosita, because he saw a pot of something pushed back on the stove. Rosita had been in and out of the sickroom, running and working as fast as she could ever since they’d brought Cole home. He had no idea where she was right now, but he wasn’t going to pester her to serve food.
“Let me fill you a plate.” Justin headed for the stove. When he got there, he looked back, jabbed a finger at the kitchen table. “Go ahead and sit down.”
She gave him a look so odd, like maybe she was watching a longhorn bull dish up supper. But she didn’t say what was the matter; instead she sat down hard. He was glad she’d been close to a chair.
He turned to the stove and was quick getting her a hearty serving of Rosita’s delicious chicken stew. When Rosita was upset she cooked, and it looked like she’d outdone herself today. The stew was thick with her hand-cut noodles and smelled warm and meaty. Rosita couldn’t make a bad meal, but this was one of his favorites.
There was a plate heaped high with biscuits sitting beside the stove. Besides that, in the kitchen window perched a layer cake with white frosting and two pieces gone. It appeared that Sadie and Heath had already eaten. Beside the cake, two pumpkin pies were sitting on a wide windowsill, along with two golden-brown loaves of bread ready for breakfast, and huckleberry jelly that looked freshly made. A ball of butter was right next to it.
Rosita had as bad a day as the rest of them, and Justin was struck by how much he loved the sweet lady who’d been like a member of the family for his whole life. And his next thought was how much he missed Pa and Ma.
Shaking off the sad thoughts, he focused on how hungry he was. Maybe Angie was, too. She was still mighty thin, her cheeks hollow, her dress showing wrists that were skin and bones. But compared to when she’d first come to town, she looked mighty healthy.
And here she was, right in the middle of it all when she had no part in this trouble. He filled another plate and brought food over for the both of them. He got them each a knife, fork, and spoon, then set the biscuits between them and sat down.
“Thank you.” She blinked her wide hazel eyes and gave him a look full of wonder. And never had a simple thank-you sounded so heartfelt. Since he couldn’t figure out quite why, unless she was desperately hungry, he decided to ignore it and warn her that she was taking her life in her hands every second spent around the Bodens.
“I’m not sure you know what’s going on around here, but if you spend time on the ranch, you need to be on your guard.”
“I know you arrested someone.”
“Yep, the man the
sheriff just took to jail. He calls himself Arizona Watts.”
Nodding, Angie asked, “Did you know Maria came out with the doctor?”
Justin paused. “Yes, I think you told me that. It’s been a long day.”
“We were told that Maria’s brother, Ramone, is here and not well. Was Ramone with Watts? Did Ramone hurt Cole? I saw your prisoner for a second, but that’s not Ramone, is it?”
Angie went back to eating in a way that reminded Justin of just how weak she’d been from hunger and thirst when she’d stepped off the train in Skull Gulch. He recalled the weight of her in his arms and how she’d barely found the strength to whisper “Aunt Margaret.” She’d come from Omaha to live with her aunt, Sister Margaret, at the Safe Haven Orphanage.
Justin wished Rosita was here to see Angie gobbling down the meal. Their housekeeper would’ve been pleased to watch someone enjoying her cooking this much.
“Nope. In fact, we think Ramone’s in danger, too. We think the folks who have been harassing our ranch wanted to find a way to blame their crime on him. Maybe plant some evidence and then kill Ramone so he couldn’t defend himself. Ramone and Maria grew up around here, but Ramone went to Mexico a long time ago. He was suspected of killing my grandfather. The man who built this house.”
“Ramone was suspected of murder?” Angie pressed a hand to her chest. “Poor Maria. I could tell when she talked to Sadie it was painful for her. She defended her brother, but what she spoke of led you to him, is that right?”
Justin felt the need to tell her the gist of the story. “About a month ago someone set off an avalanche that nearly killed my pa. He and Ma have been in Denver with a doctor, who had a special treatment for a badly broken leg. He’s going to be all right, although healing from a wound that serious is a slow business. They’ll be gone all winter. We thought the avalanche was an accident until Heath began to suspect someone was behind it. While we investigated it, someone took a shot at us—Cole, Sadie, Heath, and me. Heath was shot saving our lives.”
Doc Garner stepped into the kitchen and broke off Justin’s storytelling. Since his goal had been to warn Angie there was danger around, he figured he’d said enough for now.
“I smelled the food, Justin.” The doctor had a smile that made a body start healing up before any medicine was given.
Angie took two more fast bites and her plate was clean. She gave the pumpkin pie a look of longing, then pushed her chair back and rose. “I’ll sit with Cole, Doctor. You come on in and eat.”
She hurried out of the room. When she was gone, Justin felt like he could still see her, like a man still had a shining light burned into his eyes if he looked too long at the sun.
A hard slap on his back brought him out of the daze left from watching her.
Doc shoved back Angie’s dishes and sat down. He’d already filled his own plate from the stove, which made Justin wonder just how long he’d been staring.
“You know, that young lady acted like she would dearly love a piece of pie, Justin. Why don’t you take one in to her, and one for yourself, too? No reason you can’t eat while you’re sitting at Cole’s bedside.”
“That sounds like a fine idea. She seemed hungry still.”
Justin had two plates with pie and two forks and was out of the room fast. He thought he heard the doctor chuckling, though he didn’t bother going back to see what was so funny.
5
Angie wrung a cloth out and pressed it to Cole’s head. He didn’t have a fever so he didn’t really need cool cloths. But she was here and it seemed like the thing to do.
She’d just centered the cloth on his forehead when Justin came in with two slices of that delicious-looking pie. Angie hadn’t had pumpkin pie for years. When her father was alive, it’d been part of many holiday meals, but things had turned bad after he died. And Mother, worried about money, had let the servants go, and heaven knew Mother didn’t know how to bake a pie.
Angie was on the far side of the bed, and she watched Justin come around and offer her the dessert. It was all she could do not to start crying.
“Thank you.”
She’d never seen a man serve food before. She’d never really seen a man enter the kitchen. After her father died and her mother descended into useless bitterness at their reduced circumstances, Angie had done her best to cook for them. But there was no one to teach her, so what little food they had was simple. She often wondered if Mother would have let them both starve.
“Sit down for a bit. Have your pie. Cole is . . .” Justin’s word faded as he looked at his brother. He cleared his throat, and she realized he hadn’t quit talking on purpose. His voice had broken, as if he might be fighting tears.
There was no sign of such a thing, and she looked closely at his dark-blue eyes, so she was sure.
He loved his brother.
Angie found herself fighting tears, too. She stepped back to give Justin the privacy a strong man must need when dealing with such powerful emotions.
Sitting in the corner, she took a bite of pie.
Finally, Justin, with his back to her, said, “The doctor thinks he’s going to be all right if a fever doesn’t catch him. I’ve always heard a gunshot like this, in the stomach, is deadly. But Doc says this is far enough to the side it missed hitting anything important. He said getting shot in the liver or bowels or kidneys is what can’t be fixed and leads to death.”
Then Justin’s shoulders squared and he turned and gave Angie a hard look that made his eyes glitter. “He’s going to make it because I won’t settle for anything else.”
She wondered if he expected her to argue, because he looked ready to fight anyone who disagreed with him.
She had no desire to disagree. “Dr. Garner said his carbolic acid is very useful to fight off infections. He also cleaned the wound. Your Rosita did a very good job, although the doctor was afraid of threads from Cole’s shirt being lodged in the wound. He said when a bullet passes through fabric like that, it can happen. And a thread, or anything with dirt on it, can start an infection.”
She thought of the long, meticulous job the doctor had done, how much blood there was, the moments of Cole’s wakefulness and how much pain he was in, and how bravely he bore it.
Her husband had never had a brave, long-suffering moment in his life. And that was the last thought she was going to have about her marriage—for the rest of her life, if she could possibly arrange it.
“You said Heath was shot?”
Justin swallowed, then nodded. “A while back, by a man on top of that big mesa. Did you notice it when you rode in?”
“Skull Mesa. I’ve heard of it. The town is named for the place.”
“We heard an old Pueblo story about a woman kept by Don Bautista de Val, who used to be a partner in this ranch. He was a nasty old man according to my ma, who knew him a bit when she was a child. Don de Val was long gone by the time I was born. He had two children, Maria and Ramone, with his Pueblo mistress. That’s why Maria chose to tend him while you came here with the doctor. Finding the connection between them led us to Ramone.”
“I was with Sadie when Maria claimed Ramone as her brother.”
“Ramone worked at the ranch back in my grandfather’s time without saying a word about being the Don’s son. When Grandfather Chastain, my mother’s pa, was killed, Ramone disappeared and was known to have run for Mexico. He was suspected in the killing.”
“Maria believes in her brother’s innocence. She knew where he was and told us. If she thought he was guilty, don’t you think she’d have protected him?”
“We found him early this morning. He was in terrible shape, living in an old wreck of a house with little food, afraid to come out except at night because he knew he’d left here under a cloud of suspicion. We were bringing him home this morning when two men attacked us on the trail. That’s when Cole was shot. We managed to capture one man, while the other threw himself off a cliff rather than be taken prisoner.”
Angie gasped. “He
killed himself?”
“Not deliberately. He was running into what looked like heavy woods. He dove off the trail through the trees and didn’t see the cliff. The man’s last words threatened that more trouble was coming, that he wasn’t acting alone. If you stay around here long, it’s possible you could come under their guns, Angie.” Justin frowned at her, worry in his eyes. “I don’t want to risk anyone else’s life.”
“Send everyone away, Justin.” The new voice, deep and shaky, drew Angie’s attention, and Justin leapt out of his chair. Cole was awake.
“How can we send everyone away, Cole? How? Are you saying we should abandon the ranch?”
Cole tossed his head fretfully, and the damp cloth slid away. Justin caught it and wet it again with cool water. He returned it with too much gentleness for such a rugged western man.
“I don’t know. But how can we stay?”
Justin knew something was wrong, because Cole didn’t have a lot of backup in him. He’d rather stand and face a fight than turn tail and run. And he figured the men at the ranch felt the same. Still puzzling over it, Justin adjusted the cloth on Cole’s head, and heat came through the rag almost instantly.
“You’re running a fever.” Justin’s voice was sharp. “Angie, get the doctor.”
She was out of her chair and calling for the doctor before Justin quit giving the order. There would be time to wonder about threats to the ranch later. Right now, caring for Cole and seeing him get well was all that mattered.
The ensuing battle for Cole’s life drove every other thought from Justin’s mind. Attempted murder, conspiracy, hired men with mysterious plans, cowhands who might be betrayers. Justin didn’t have time for any of it.
Sadie and Heath seemed to give up any idea of a honeymoon, even to the point of giving up private moments. They worked along with everyone else, bathing Cole with cool cloths, getting water down his throat, coaxing him to drink the willow-bark tea the doctor recommended for fever and the broth Rosita and Angie kept warm on the stove.
Long Time Gone Page 3