Dangerous Heart

by Tracey Bateman

  Glaring, Ginger jerked away with such force, Elijah teetered between his toes and heels and almost fell. She grabbed onto his arm. “You okay?”

  “Just a little dizzy.” His eyes pleaded, and he shifted his gaze quickly between the other men and Ginger, as though trying to convey something private. “Can we go out and talk about those letters?”

  Intrigued, Ginger nodded and they stepped outside, Elijah trembling and moving slowly. Ginger shook, as well, but from anticipation. What on earth was going on?

  Elijah took Ginger by the elbow and led her to the bench Yuley had constructed. A puff of air left his lungs as he dropped to the seat. “I take it you’ve read the letters?”

  Tears blurred Ginger’s vision as she nodded. “What does this mean?”

  Tenderly he took her hand and cradled it between his clammy palms. “Clem and I were in prison together.”

  All of Ginger’s strength left her and she didn’t even have the energy to pull her hand free, which is what instinct dictated. “But I saw him die seven years ago.”

  “No. He was wounded badly, but there was a doctor on the stagecoach that removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding. Your brother said the Marshal aboard wanted to leave him, but the doc refused to go without him, so they loaded him into the stage and took him back to the nearest town.”

  “I just can’t believe it. Then why didn’t he get in touch?”

  “The way your pa moves around, he knew a letter would never reach you. Besides, he thought it best if Web thought he was dead. He wanted to leave the gang and plans to stay dead, as far as your pa is concerned.”

  Ginger’s head swam as her brain fought to catch up. “Where is he?”

  “He’s still in prison in St. Louis. He’s set to get out in a few months and plans to meet up with you and Buddy in Oregon. I was supposed to come find you.”

  “But when you found Web, I wasn’t with the gang.”

  “Yes. The only way I could find out where you were without raising Web’s suspicion was to insinuate I knew a rich man who was looking for a wife.”

  Amused, Ginger couldn’t help a short laugh. “What did you plan to do once you found me? Come up with a fake rich man from California?”

  “When we get to Fort Boise, I planned to fake a telegram to your so-called intended and have him break off the engagement.”

  “The cad! He’s going to break my heart?”

  Elijah’s blue eyes twinkled, and he laughed. “Well, he’s found someone else. The true love of his life. What do you expect him to do?”

  “Ah, well, I suppose I’ll live through the humiliation.” She sent him a conspiratorial grin. “Especially if I have the joy of being reunited with my long-lost brother instead.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  Ginger felt like she was a little girl all over again as a giddy joy bubbled up inside of her. “When can I see him?”

  “He’s set for release in February.”

  “Well, that’s too long to wait. I’m going to see him. Where in St. Louis? What’s the name of the prison?”

  Shaking his head, Elijah squeezed her hand. “He doesn’t want you anywhere near that place.”

  “But…”

  Elijah raised his other hand. “Trust me. He’s right. But he’ll come and find you. From the looks of things, you’ll be spending the winter at Fort Boise. One telegram, and he can come find you before the wagon train pulls out again in the spring.”

  Ginger wanted to protest. Her heart raced. She hadn’t seen her brother in seven years and had no intention of waiting another six months to see him. But something in Elijah’s eyes begged her to respect Clem’s wishes and wait for him to come to her.

  The sound of horses’ hooves interrupted the conversation. Ginger tensed as Lane rode into camp, along with the men who had left camp during the cholera outbreak. Lane dismounted and stared from her to Elijah. His lip curled into a sneer. “Well, ain’t this just cozy? Is there somethin’ you two need to tell me? After all, she’s my girl.” He sent a suggestive wink that made Ginger’s skin crawl. “Ain’t ya, honey?”

  “Maybe if I was blind and soft in the head.”

  Laughter rumbled through the group of men. “She told you, Conners,” Greely called. Ginger snapped her gaze around to the men’s tent. All of the men except for Charles Harrison stood outside, presumably to greet their fellow outlaws. They were a pale, weak looking group of men, but Ginger couldn’t help but be glad they were going to make it. Only three had died. Much fewer than the wagon train casualties.

  Lane’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Shut up,” he growled. He turned to Elijah. “You best get away from her before I finish what the cholera started.”

  Elijah stood slowly and raised his hand, palm forward. “Take it easy. We’re just talking.”

  “Besides,” Ginger said, shooting up next to him. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not going to marry you, Lane? I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t care what Web promised you. I’m not going to marry you—now or ever.”

  In a flash, Lane reached out and grabbed her arm. Elijah stepped forward. “Let go of her.”

  “Better do as you’re told, Lane.” Web’s voice of authority rang through the air. “What have I told you about grabbing my daughter?”

  Ginger couldn’t help but note the irony of the situation. “And yet you’re the one that promised me to this idiot. And you want to practically sell me to a man in California for your cut of a gold mine.”

  “I’m trying to help you, girl,” Web said.

  Fighting against the anger, Ginger bit back a retort. “And I appreciate it,” she said.

  “Well, act like it then,” Web gasped out. “I come to find Miss Sadie. Harrison’s bad off.”

  “Miss Sadie’s sleeping. I’ll see to him.”

  “You ain’t nursin’ no other men,” Lane said.

  Ginger sneered and slid past him. “He’s an old man. And he needs my help.” She glanced at Web. “Will you go back in there and let Mr. Harrison know I’ll be there in just a minute? Elijah, you should go back to bed.”

  Elijah shook his head. “I think I’ll go have a bath.”

  “Are you crazy?” Ginger stared into his clouded eyes. Clearly he needed to be back in the tent, napping. “You can’t dip in that freezing cold water. You’ll end up with pneumonia!”

  He smiled gently. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  “Look, are you coming or not?” Web called from the tent.

  “Hold your horses, Web!”

  She turned back to Elijah. “Fine. Get pneumonia. See if I care.” She stomped to the fire and ladled a bowl of onion soup then stomped back to the men’s tent.

  The men had dispersed, and only Web and Charles remained. Ginger’s eyes widened at the sight of poor Mr. Harrison. His face was pale, his cheeks sunken, eyes dark. He looked closer to death than life. “Mr. Harrison,” she said softly. “I’m here to give you some soup. Web’s going to help you sit up.” She nodded to Web, and he moved to Mr. Harrison’s side and lifted his shoulders. Ginger scooped a spoonful and placed it on his lips. He moaned and turned his head. “I can’t.”

  “If you don’t take this, it can’t kill the cholera.”

  “I’m going to die anyway,” Mr. Harrison said. He turned to Web. “Let me lay down.”

  “Don’t do it, Web.” Ginger lifted another spoonful to Mr. Harrison’s lips and glared at him. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  Mr. Harrison swallowed down the liquid but waved away the next spoonful. He pushed back and finally, Ginger nodded to Web. “Let him lay down for a minute.”

  “I need to talk to you both,” Mr. Harrison said. He turned to Web. “I need you to do something for me, and Ginger is the witness.”

  Mercy, this sounded like the kind of speech a person made when they knew they weren’t long for this world. But they could save Mr. Harrison. “Listen,” Ginger said. “You’re a couple of days behind the other men in gettin
g cholera. But almost all of the others have made it just fine. Eat the soup. You’ll be well in no time.”

  Shaking his head, Mr. Harrison took her hand. “I have to say this, just in case.”

  Ginger glanced up at Web. His eyes glittered a little too brightly for someone sitting at a dying man’s bedside. This just seemed like a bad idea.

  “I don’t think you should do this.”

  Web glared her to silence. “If Charles wants to talk, you ought to let him. A man knows what he needs to do at a time like this.”

  She wanted to call him out. To urge Mr. Harrison to keep quiet and not say anything about his money. But the look in Web’s eyes told her she’d better not, and Ginger cowered.

  “This may come as a shock to you,” Mr. Harrison began, his voice shaky, weak. “I am a very rich man.”

  “You are?” Web’s voice sounded so insincere Ginger wanted to hit him. But Mr. Harrison was too weak to notice.

  “Yes. I brought most of it with me.”

  “Without anyone knowing? You could have been robbed.”

  Clenching her fists, Ginger clamped her jaw shut to keep from revealing Web’s appalling secret.

  Charles looked at Web. “I never knew I’d fall in love again after my wife died. But I did. I hate to put this on you, but I need you to see to it that my children receive two-thirds of my money, and Amanda gets the rest.”

  “Sure, sure,” Web said. “Just tell me where it’s at, and I’ll be happy to see to it for ya.”

  “Web…”

  “Let Charles talk,” Web growled. He turned to Mr. Harrison, his voice too eager. “You were about to tell us where you hid the money.”

  “Swear to me,” Mr. Harrison said. “Swear that you’ll make sure Amanda gets one-third of the money.”

  Web nodded. “Yes, I swear. She’ll get her share.”

  “I created a false bottom in my wagon. Within the false bottom, there are two hidden compartments. One at the front and one at the back of the wagon.”

  The light in Web’s eyes brightened, and he nodded. Ginger couldn’t believe it. Web was impressed. “I never would have thought of that.”

  Mr. Harrison shrugged, oblivious to the reason for Web’s sudden respect.

  Inwardly, Ginger cringed. Web would easily have spotted the false bottom, but he never would have thought to look for secret compartments. Why did Mr. Harrison have to be such a fool when it came to trusting people? But what more could one expect from a man who took an interest in Amanda Kane, even before she stopped taking laudanum? He trusted, believed in people. The main problem was that the wagon was right here. Mr. Harrison and Web had brought the supplies in it. Poor Mr. Harrison.

  “Mr. Harrison,” Ginger said. “I’ll do my best to see to it that Amanda and the children will receive their share of the money. If you don’t pull through this. Which you won’t, if you don’t take the soup.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What do you think will happen to Alfie if you die? That poor boy barely understands that he’ll never see his ma again. Who will take care of him?”

  Tears sprang to Mr. Harrison’s eyes and Ginger knew she was getting to him. “And Belinda. What’s a thirteen-year-old girl going to do without a ma or pa?”

  “Don’t you worry none about that,” Web broke in. “I’ll take both of them kids. I’ll take care of them like they was my own young’uns.”

  Ginger noted the alarm in Mr. Harrison’s eyes and took the opportunity to try to press her point. “No one can take care of them the way you can, Mr. Harrison. They need you to try.”

  The tears glistening in his eyes began to trail down sides of his head and drop onto the blanket. He nodded.

  “Web,” Ginger said. “Could you help him up?”

  Web scowled and gave a grudging nod. Ginger began spooning the soup into Mr. Harrison’s mouth, praying that he’d get better before Web had a chance to clean out that false bottom.

  Sixteen

  Grant had never felt so weak in his life. He knew there was no point in even trying to stand; he’d only crash to the ground. Even the idea of opening his eyes seemed too much of an effort. He vaguely remembered the retching and other things equally revolting. His stomach no longer roiled and rolled. His heart lifted a little. He would live.

  “Doc?”

  He recognized Buddy’s voice and turned his head toward the sound, debating whether or not he wanted to attempt to open his eyes and face the pain a flash of light would bring.

  “How long have I been sick?”

  “Two days.” Buddy’s voice rose with relief. “Amanda said once you made it past the first twenty-four hours, you’d live.”

  “Lucky me.” He truly was grateful, but the pain in his head…

  “Doctors always make the worst patients, they say.”

  Grant’s eyes flew open at the sound of Blake’s voice. He groaned as the light rammed into his eyes like heavy fists.

  “How are you feeling?” Blake asked.

  Grant offered a weak smile. “Sick.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Why are you watching me sleep?”

  “Buddy said you’ve been stirring for the last hour. I needed to speak with you as soon as possible. I know it’s not the best time, but it’s necessary.”

  “What is it?”

  “Sunday a few soldiers arrived from Fort Boise. They heard we had cholera from their Indian scouts and warned us to stay away from the fort.”

  “It’s a fearsome disease. I can’t say I blame them.”

  “That may be, but we have to find someplace to hole up for the winter. We need the protection of the fort if we stay in these parts.”

  “You’ve made up your mind, then?”

  Blake gave a nod, his lips set in a grim line. “We’ll have some trouble out of a few of the men. I’m anticipating that. But it’s the smartest thing to do. According to the soldiers, the snow is heavy this year. With four hundred miles to go, it would be folly to even attempt to get over the Blue Mountains.”

  “Most of the folks trust you to do what’s right. None of the setbacks have been your fault.”

  Blake’s jaw twitched as he clamped down on his back teeth, something he did when trying to control his emotions. Grant figured he’d best change the subject for now.

  “What did you want me to say to the soldiers?”

  “You’ll need to speak to the captain and let him know there’s no danger of cholera anymore. Explain it to him in doctor talk so he knows you’re a real doctor.”

  Lifting himself, Grant rested on his elbow. His head swam with the sudden movement, and he closed his eyes until the spell passed. “How many new cases have occurred since I took sick?”

  “None,” Buddy said. “Everyone’s getting better. Kip went fishing with me yesterday.”

  Grant smiled at the lad. “Catch anything?”

  “Naw. Too cold. But we shot a couple of rabbits on the way back from the river.”

  “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”

  “Yes sir. Mrs. Kane roasted them over the fire. They were right tasty.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Now that he looked closer, he could see that Buddy’s face, though still thin, no longer had that sunken in appearance. He turned to Blake. “If I’ve been sick three days and I was the last one to come down with cholera, then it’s over.”

  “You sure? You thought that before you got sick.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Relief washed across Blake’s face. “As soon as you’re strong enough to ride, we need to go to the fort so you can reassure the captain. They want to hear it from the doctor.”

  “The word of a wagon master isn’t good enough for the captain?”

  Blake gave a chuckle. “Maybe he’s known too many wagon masters that don’t tell the truth.”

  Grant felt his strength winding down. He took a deep, shaky breath. “I should be strong enough in a couple of days.”

  “That’s good. I’ll send
Two Feathers on to let them know that we’ll be ready to rendezvous in a couple of days and the wagon train can move out again in three days’ time.”

  “Sounds good.” He closed his eyes and lowered himself back to the pallet. “Ginger and Miss Sadie back yet?”

  The hesitation in the tent spoke loudly, and Grant opened his eyes once more, staring at Blake. “Well?”

  Blake shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Has anyone gone to check on them?”

  A scowl marred Blake’s face. “We’re trying to recover from this illness. Too many men are just now regaining their strength. I didn’t want to risk any kind of relapse.”

  “What about Web and Mr. Harrison?”

  Blake shook his head.

  “Blake, you know what Web is!” Grant felt the panic rising. “We have to go get them. We can’t just leave Miss Sadie and Ginger and Mr. Harrison to their mercy.”

  “I already promised Fannie and Toni that we’d send a few men after them tomorrow, if they aren’t back by then.”

  “Good.” With his energy spent, Grant could do little more than utter the word as he closed his eyes. He hated the feeling of helplessness. The weakness. What if Ginger needed him, and he wasn’t there to help her? Ginger…now he remembered the little girl who had been there the day his Sarah had died. His muddy memory took him back to that awful day, but his heart only saw a young girl’s tears for her brother and he knew he couldn’t blame her. Even now, he could only love her.

  Ginger woke up with a filthy hand clasped over her mouth. “Get up, gal.”

  “Web? What are you doing?”

  “Time to leave.”

  Disappointment squeezed at her. After two days she’d hoped Web had changed his mind. “Listen, Web, you don’t have to do this. Don’t take Mr. Harrison’s money. He trusted you. Do you know what an honor it was for a man like that to trust you with his children’s future?”

  “Harrison’s an idiot. And you know what they say.”

  “Yes,” she said dully. “A fool and his money are soon parted.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Mr. Harrison isn’t a fool, Web. He’s just a good man who never would have guessed that the man he’s befriended would rob him. Especially when no one else in the wagon train would give you the time of day once they found out Buddy brought cholera and you’re his pa.”