The Hired Man

by Lynna Banning

  “Some.” Tom’s eyes darted from the porch railing to the barn door and back to the porch. “You...uh...interested in finding gold in California?”

  How the devil would Tom know about that? “Maybe.”

  “Take my advice, go on down to Mexico and find yourself a mine.”

  “Yeah? And then what?”

  Tom snorted. “If you’re any kind of a man, you’ll figure out how to end up owning it, one way or another. Get yourself a woman, too.”

  Cord kept his jaw clamped shut. He could guess how Tom Malloy had figured his life out. And in that instant he knew he couldn’t leave Eleanor and the children if Tom Malloy was anywhere within five hundred miles of Smoke River.

  He stood up. “Guess I’ll turn in. Big day tomorrow finishing the barn roof.” He waited for Tom to say something, but the stocky man dug his cigarette makings out of his shirt pocket and turned away.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The breaking point came as unexpectedly as a summer thunderstorm, and the consequences were life-changing. The barn was finished, with two additional horse stalls, a bigger tack room, and a new roof made of split cedar shakes. Tom kept disappearing for days at a time with no explanation.

  Eleanor grew more disgusted with each passing day. When he turned up at the supper table and gobbled down the fried chicken or the biscuits, she said little. But she watched him. And she listened closely when he spoke to the children. Tom was more angry and short-tempered than ever.

  He found fault with everything—Danny’s school homework, Molly’s fondness for dressing the kittens in her doll clothes, and everything associated with Cord. He made ugly remarks about Cord’s shiny bay mare, Sally; the oats Cord purchased for feed; his carefully oiled saddle; even his choice of work shirts and his worn leather vest. “Never saw a man look so raggedy or eat so much free supper in one sitting,” Tom growled. “Tells of a mighty poor background.”

  Not even Eleanor escaped Tom’s complaints. “You got all this money from sellin’ your apples this season, whyn’t you get up a prettier dress than that one you wear day after day? It’s all patched and faded. Makes you look old and worn-out, too.”

  Tight-lipped, she ignored him as much as she could, and then one day she decided she’d had enough. It came at suppertime, after a long, hot day she’d spent laboring over the washboard in the backyard.

  “Not beans again!” Tom grumbled. “Can’t you come up with anything more appetizing? I’m sick of your corn bread, too!”

  Eleanor slapped down the ladle and spun from the stove. “Tom Malloy, if you make one more complaint about anything, anything at all, you will eat elsewhere!”

  Molly and Danny glanced at each other, their eyes wide, and both sent Cord apprehensive looks. Cord rolled his eyes to make light of it, but right then and there he resolved that the very next time Tom Malloy opened his mouth to complain he would lay him out flat on the kitchen floor.

  Eleanor turned back to the kettle of simmering beans, and Cord knew by the stiffness in her shoulders that she was biting her tongue. Tom lapsed into sullen silence. To Cord’s surprise, before he’d even lifted his fork, Danny asked to be excused. Molly did the same.

  Something was different tonight. It wasn’t just tension he sensed; it was a simmering cauldron of fury about to boil over. He wanted to escape to the front porch with the kids, but he didn’t want to leave Eleanor alone in the kitchen with Tom.

  Malloy grumbled under his breath while shoveling in beans and stuffing squares of corn bread into his mouth. Eleanor refused to sit down at the table but ate standing up at the sink. Cord sure couldn’t blame her.

  Finally Tom banged out the front door, still grousing about his supper, and Cord heard his raucous voice yelling at one of the children. Cord’s restraint snapped. Deliberately he set his coffee cup back onto the table and stood up.

  “That’s it. We’ve all had enough.”

  Eleanor fled out the back door. Cord quickly gathered up the plates and set them in the pan of hot soapy water in the sink, then strolled as casually as he could to the front door. Some instinct made him check the ammunition in the Colt he now carried with him.

  What he saw outside in the half-light of dusk made his blood run cold.

  Tom lurched around the corner of the house, dragging Eleanor toward the barn, one meaty hand clamped around her upper arm. Her face looked white and frightened, but her eyes were furious.

  Danny jumped off the porch and raced toward her, but when he got within a couple of feet, Tom backhanded him and the boy sprawled into the dirt.

  “Malloy!” Cord yelled. “Let her go!”

  “Fat chance, hired man. She’s my wife, not yours!”

  Out of the corner of his eye Cord saw Danny get to his feet and start toward him. “Dan,” he said, his voice quiet. “Ride for the sheriff.”

  Danny edged around behind Tom and slipped into the barn. In the next minute Cord’s bay mare bolted through the open barn door, sailed over the gate and clattered off down the road. Molly had scrambled under the porch, and Cord prayed she would stay put.

  He pulled the revolver from his belt and thumbed the hammer back. “Let her go, Malloy!”

  A bullet puffed dust at his feet. “Make me!”

  He couldn’t fire back; Tom was using Eleanor as a shield. He started forward anyway, and another shot plowed into the ground in front of him. Still, he kept moving forward. If he could get close enough, he could miss Eleanor and hit Malloy. He slipped his finger over the trigger.

  At that instant Tom fired again, and a white-hot pain burned into Cord’s shoulder. His right arm went slack, and the Colt dangled uselessly from his hand. Eleanor cried out and then suddenly went silent.

  Tom’s next shot spun Cord’s revolver out of his hand and into the dirt. Cord could shoot left-handed, but first he had to pick up his gun. Minutes passed. He didn’t know how many, but what he did know was that his shoulder felt like a red-hot coal was grinding into it.

  Tom edged toward the barn, moving backward and hauling Eleanor with him. Then he stopped and adjusted his revolver arm.

  When he adjusted it again, Cord realized the man was having trouble seeing him in the dark. Good. There was no moon tonight. Tom was just a bulky figure in the shadows; he and Eleanor’s white shirtwaist were the only things moving.

  He had to get to his revolver, but he knew if he made any sudden move, Tom would put another bullet in him. He couldn’t risk losing the use of his other arm; he had to figure out a way to disable Tom without hitting Eleanor, and for that he needed a left hand that worked.

  He waited, not moving a muscle. He could hear Eleanor’s uneven breathing and Tom’s raspy muttering.

  Just keep talking, Malloy. Keep on wondering what I’m gonna do, why I’m just standing here like I’m waiting for something.

  He had to play for time. He figured Tom had three shots left.

  How much time had elapsed, ten minutes? Twenty? How much time did he need? If he could stretch it out, maybe he could get Tom to empty his gun without realizing all his bullets were used up.

  He lurched forward and made an obvious, clumsy attempt to kick his Colt closer to his left side.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, boyo!” Tom powdered the dirt at his feet with another shot aimed to keep him from lunging for his gun. Cord made a show of jumping back, then crouched to circle around the weapon. His shoulder was on fire and he could feel his shirt getting sticky with blood. He bent lower.

  And then he got an idea. He groaned and staggered, then clapped his left hand against his bleeding shoulder. How much time has passed?

  He swayed toward Tom, then began stumbling toward him. He could hear Eleanor sobbing and pleading with the man. Cord took another shaky step closer to his Colt, but on purpose he staggered past it. He figured he could drop and roll
and come up with the revolver in his left hand. But he still wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot because Eleanor was still in the way.

  Unless he could get her to pull free.

  He kept moving unsteadily forward. If he could maneuver Tom just a step or two toward him, he could fake a retreat, and that might give him a chance.

  How much time has passed?

  Cord sucked in a pain-laced breath. “Malloy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You a gambling man?”

  “Well, sure, but now don’t seem like the time.”

  “Wrong.” Cord sidestepped drunkenly. “Now’s the perfect time.”

  “How do you figure that, hired man?”

  Cord took another purposely unsteady step. “Just give me a minute, Tom. Gettin’ kinda dizzy.”

  “Take yer time, hired man. I got all night. Well...part of the night.”

  Don’t listen. Don’t react. Just keep moving, keep him off balance. Play for time.

  He pretended to stumble. “Lemme think a minute, Tom. Had an idea, but...” He lurched to the left, closer to his revolver. “But...hell, I can’t remember it now.”

  “What’s your proposition, hired man?”

  Cord noted that Eleanor had stopped crying. And talking.

  “Okay, Tom, here goes.” He clamped his jaw against the pain now streaking through his shoulder and down his arm. “How’d you like to...” He let his voice mumble off into silence.

  “Huh? Can’t hear you?”

  How much time? Lord God, how much time has passed?

  “Sorry, Tom. Brain’s gettin’ a little fuzzy.” Another step to the left, and this time when he lurched he made sure to list heavily toward the ground.

  “Hurry it up, hired man!”

  “Y-yeah,” he muttered. “Jus’ a minute...”

  Tom started to speak and Cord dropped to the ground, rolled to grab his Colt and came up firing. He aimed at Tom’s feet, hoping he’d let go of Eleanor, but before he could squeeze the trigger again, Tom danced away, turned sideways and dragged Eleanor with him.

  It was now or never. Cord raised his Colt to fire, taking careful aim at the man’s belly, but before he could pull the trigger he heard a sharp crack and Tom pitched forward and lay still.

  On the other side of the gate, Danny sat on the bay mare, the heavy revolver clutched in both hands.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Eleanor stumbled to Cord’s side. “Are you all right? The way you were acting I thought you were bleeding to death!”

  Before he could answer, Danny scrambled off his mount and threw himself at Cord. “I shot him! I shot him, Cord, and I’m not sorry!”

  Cord wrapped his good arm around the shaking boy’s shoulders and pulled him and Eleanor hard against him. “You did just fine, son. Saved your ma’s life. Saved mine, too.”

  Sheriff Rivera stepped his big roan gelding through the gate, dismounted and bent to roll Tom’s body over.

  “Good shooting, Dan,” the sheriff said. “Guess you saved me having to make an arrest.”

  Rivera slapped his worn Stetson against one knee. “Guess you might as well know, Miz Malloy. Your husband was wanted for murder down in Mexico. They’ve been hunting him for months, but just yesterday a poster came across my desk that told us who he was. It wasn’t hard to figure out where he’d be.”

  Eleanor sagged against Cord. “M-murder? Did you say murder?”

  “I did, ma’am. Sorry to have to tell you this, but your husband shot a woman and her young son in a dispute over a mine.”

  “A mine?”

  “A gold mine, yes, ma’am. The dead woman owned it.”

  Eleanor stared at the sheriff in horror. “Oh, my Lord. My Lord, my Lord!”

  “Lucky your boy can shoot, Miz Malloy. Could have been... Well, it’s just lucky.”

  Cord extended his left hand to the sheriff. “Thanks, Hawk.”

  “You should thank Daniel here. Never saw a kid ride so fast!”

  Cord drew in a rough breath. “Eleanor, let’s go inside. Maybe you could look at my shoulder.”

  * * *

  Eating left-handed provided an endless source of amusement for Molly and Danny. Scrambled eggs dribbled off his fork; his coffee sloshed over the edge of his cup; and he couldn’t butter his toast without Molly’s help.

  But there were advantages. Eleanor fussed and fluttered and kept dropping kisses on top of his head. Danny volunteered to do Cord’s share of the dishes. And Molly graciously agreed that he wouldn’t have to help her dress the kittens in any doll clothes. Ever.

  But the best part was something Cord hadn’t expected. After breakfast one morning, he and Eleanor walked out to the front porch to rock on the swing. They didn’t say much. Mostly he managed to kiss her using just his left arm, and she managed to kiss him back without jarring his injured shoulder.

  The surprise came when Danny and Molly bounded through the screen door.

  “Cord?” Molly asked very softly.

  “Yeah, honey? What is it?”

  She whispered in his ear.

  He stared at the girl. “You sure about this, Molly?”

  She nodded so hard her blond curls bounced. Over Molly’s head Eleanor sent Cord a puzzled look.

  “What about you, Dan? You have an opinion?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well? What is it?”

  Cord caught Eleanor’s suspicious frown. He knew how she hated to be left out of things, but he figured just this once it would be worth it.

  Danny caught his lower lip in his teeth. “We, um...we don’t want you to go to California. We want you to stay here.”

  Cord’s throat began to feel tight. “What about your mama?”

  Danny cleared his throat. “Well, sir, we think whatever she wants won’t matter all that much.”

  Eleanor gave a whoop and clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Okay,” Cord said, working to keep a straight face, “what is it that you want that your mama doesn’t?”

  “We want you to stay and...and...”

  Molly poked her finger in her brother’s rib cage.

  “And be our pa,” Danny blurted out.

  Cord swallowed hard and exchanged a long look with Eleanor. “Don’t you think your mama might have something to say about this?”

  “Nah. She won’t care.”

  Cord coughed to hide his chuckle. “What about where your new pa would be sleeping?”

  The children exchanged puzzled glances. “Gosh, Cord, can’tcha go on sleeping in the attic?”

  “Or maybe you could sleep under the porch with my kitties?” Molly suggested. “You wouldn’t have to dress them up or anything.”

  Cord snaked out his good arm and pulled them both close. “I don’t think so,” he said seriously.

  “Why not?” both children wailed. “Mama likes you, honest she does!”

  Convulsed with laughter, Eleanor nodded. Cord cleared his throat again. “You think she likes me enough to...uh...come and sleep with me in my bed?”

  Danny sent him an unreadable look. The boy frowned, pursed his lips and finally shook his head. “I think you’re gonna have to ask her first.”

  “Will you be real nice to her?” Molly asked shyly.

  “Yes, I will. Real, real nice.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Then,” Molly said in a decisive tone, “you should ask her.”

  “Go on, Cord!” Danny urged. “Ask her!”

  Cord reached to clasp Eleanor’s free hand. “What about it, Eleanor? If I agree to be Danny and Molly’s pa, do you think I could sleep in your bed?”

  She released his hand and leaned ove
r to kiss him. “Yes, absolutely.”

  “Do you think maybe we should get married before I come to sleep in your bed?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  But they did.

  Epilogue

  Eleanor looked down the long aisle of the Smoke River Community Church and drew a shaky breath. She had never been so frightened in her whole life.

  Imagine being frightened on my wedding day.

  She hadn’t been frightened when she’d married Tom Malloy all those years ago, and she’d known Tom for years. She’d known Cord barely six months. She closed her eyes.

  The organ music swelled into the “Wedding March.”

  Oh, but I’m not ready!

  It was too soon. It was too...permanent, too forever-feeling.

  She smoothed one hand over the pale blue dimity dress Verena Forester had created, with a floaty six-gored skirt and lace ruffles at her neck and wrists and so many buttons she couldn’t count them all. Tiny ones. Molly wore a dress just like hers only smaller, and Verena had even made a blue wedding dress for Molly’s favorite doll. Eleanor fervently hoped it would not end up on one of the kittens.

  She risked a glance down the aisle to the altar where Cord waited, his dark hair neatly combed for once, his eyes so blue that even from here they looked like shards of sapphire.

  Is he as nervous as I am?

  Molly and Daniel stood hand in hand beside Cord, trying hard to look properly serious but grinning anyway. Cord was not grinning. He wasn’t even smiling, but even from there his eyes told her things that made her cheeks feel hot one minute and her hands turn to ice the next.

  Heavens, getting married was so difficult! Life was so unexpected, and it lasted such a long time. What if...what if... Oh, there were so many what-ifs.

  The little church was jammed with well-wishers. Sarah and Rooney Cloudman and their grandson, Mark, Sheriff Rivera. Even Carl Ness and his wife and twin daughters, Edith and Noralee. Eleanor wondered what color the mercantile was painted today and suppressed a giggle. It wouldn’t matter; it would be a different color next week.