by Jodi Thomas
“Is everyone all right?” Harrison yelled. “May we come up?”
Nell almost laughed and gave her permission. Jacob Dalton would have never asked such a thing if he thought there was trouble on the second floor, but Harrison would be proper to the end.
Harrison stood in the doorway holding the barn lantern in one hand and an old Walker Colt in the other. Brother Aaron appeared sleepy, taking a few steps into Nell’s bedroom and glancing around as though expecting to see a wild animal lurking in the shadows.
Both men looked like deer who’d stumbled into a bear cave. Nell could see that they both thought they were definitely somewhere they didn’t belong.
“We’re fine.” Nell pulled her blanket up not because she felt exposed, but because she guessed the men felt uncomfortable seeing a lady in her nightclothes. “Someone was on the stairs a few minutes ago. Both Wednesday and I heard them. When I called for Mrs. O’Daniel, they ran down.”
Mrs. O’Daniel paled. “Someone was in the house.” She looked at the preacher.
“They didn’t get past me. I sleep with one eye open most of the time.”
Gypsy and Marla thundered into the room, shoving the preacher closer to the bed. The old man still had all his clothes on, but he buttoned his coat as if he could ward off sin with fabric armor.
Harrison seemed to relax and take charge. “Were either of you on the stairs a few minutes ago?”
Marla and Gypsy shook their heads as if their chins were connected with an invisible string.
“How about you?” He turned to Mrs. O’Daniel, who shook her head in double time.
“Not me,” Wednesday offered before she was questioned.
Nell decided it would be a waste of time for her to say anything.
Harrison lifted the lantern. “Everyone stay here.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll check things out.”
No one argued. In fact, he would have had trouble finding a second to follow.
He disappeared. A few moments later, they all heard his footsteps descending the stairs.
Gypsy turned up Nell’s night-light and paced back and forth across the room. Wednesday curled closer to Nell. Mrs. O’Daniel glared at the preacher, mumbling something about being married enough times to know that trouble usually wore trousers.
“You don’t think it’s my pa come to get me, do you?” the girl whispered. “I don’t want to go if it is. He can’t make me, can he?”
“No,” Nell answered and gave the girl a squeeze around the shoulders.
“I don’t want to go back,” she repeated. “Not ever. I want to stay here with you.”
Mrs. O’Daniel pulled her robe tighter around her ample chest. “It might just be one of those men who likes to look at women sleeping. We had a fellow like that in Fort Worth once. He’d find an open window and poke his head in, hoping to see a woman in her nighties.”
Brother Aaron frowned and glanced at Mrs. O’Daniel’s hair with rag ends sticking out like rolled barbed wire. “I bet he was disappointed more often than not.”
“I wouldn’t know.” She raised her chin. “He leaned in once too often, I heard, and a widow slammed a cast-iron skillet into his face. Folks said he didn’t have enough nose left to sneeze.”
Wednesday giggled, lightening everyone’s mood.
“That’s not true,” the preacher debated.
Mrs. O’Daniel hugged herself. “Is, too. I heard he got religion soon after that, though most folks can’t stand the sight of him for more than a graveside funeral.”
Nell joined Wednesday’s laughter.
“I’m coming up!” Harrison called as if everyone might have given up worrying and gone to bed while he was checking out the house.
He tapped up the stairs, then seemed to stop halfway before climbing the last few steps.
“I think I’ve solved the crime,” he announced with a smile.
Everyone gave him their full attention as he walked to the center of the room.
“The lock on the back door had been broken. It must have happened during the storm earlier tonight, or one of us would have heard something. Marla, did you notice anything when you locked up?”
The shy cook shook her head.
Harrison continued. “Well, it must have happened sometime around midnight, because the storm settled about one.”
Everyone nodded, following his logic.
“Only one thing was stolen.”
“Stolen,” Nell whispered. She couldn’t imagine what would be valuable enough to commit a crime to get from her house.
Harrison looked straight at Nell. “The painting Henry Stockard gave Fat Alice. The one hanging halfway up the stairs.”
No one said a word for a moment, then Gypsy mumbled, “We’ve been burgled by the dumbest thief in the world.”
No one argued.
Harrison moved closer to Nell when she asked, “Do you think it could have been Walter Farrow?”
He shook his head. “Why? You offered him the painting his uncle did when he was here. Why would he turn it down and then come back almost a week later to steal it? I’m not even sure he’s still in town. Looks like he would have been back out to check on what we want for the land if he is still interested.”
Gypsy had listened in. “Walter Farrow doesn’t strike me as a man who cuddles up too closely with reason.”
The others moved to the hallway to take a look at the space where the painting had been as if they might find another clue. Harrison stayed behind with Nell. “I’ll board up the back door before I return to the barn.”
Nell looked up at him. “Would you sleep on the sofa downstairs, just for the rest of the night?”
Harrison rested his hand on her shoulder. “Whoever it was won’t be back. Not tonight. I think he got what he was looking for.”
Nell knew Harrison was right, but she didn’t want to admit how frightened she’d been. All her life she’d been brave. She’d run with the wind behind her and dared anyone to stop her. And now . . . now she feared a breeze.
“I’ll move my bedroll in and sleep where I can see both the kitchen door and the front entrance. No one will climb the stairs again tonight without my seeing them.” He smiled and handed her his old Colt. “Keep this nearby. If you even hear something strange, shoot toward the window. I’ll come running.” He winked at her. “Don’t worry about the glass, I already know how to repair it.”
Nell smiled, grateful he understood. She could hear the others in the hallway discussing the crime. “Thanks,” she whispered. What was it about her life? Men kept handing her guns. First Jacob and now Harrison.
“You’re welcome,” he answered.
And right there and then, Nell decided she liked Randolph Harrison. He wasn’t helping her because she was crippled or because he hoped to be her husband, or even because he worked for her. He helped her simply because they were friends.
Brother Aaron cleared his throat from the doorway. “I think we’d best be letting Miss Nell get some sleep.”
Harrison removed his hand from Nell’s shoulder, but he didn’t look as if he thought he’d been doing anything he should repent for. He turned away as Nell slipped the gun he’d given her between the sheets. He was right about one thing; she’d feel far safer now knowing she could at least defend herself, even if she couldn’t run away.
Harrison bowed at the door. “Until tomorrow.”
“If we’re lucky,” she answered and tucked her feet beneath the covers.
Nell listened as the house settled. Mrs. O’Daniel poked her head in to see if she wanted a hot cocoa. When Nell declined, she heard everyone else move downstairs. It was hours before dawn, but the house was awake. And Nell heard Wednesday tell everyone that since they were awake, they might as well have something to eat.
Leaning on her pillows, Nell wished Jacob were here. He’d probably think it was funny that someone stole the ugly painting. As she slipped back into sleep, she thought of how he’d kissed her by the windmill and how she’
d wished he’d touched her. She would have liked to curl up in his big arms and feel his body pressing against her.
She slept soundly, safe and wrapped in the dream of being in Jacob’s arms.
Just before dawn, Nell pulled herself into her wheelchair and rolled to the window. Mrs. O’Daniel had done a grand job of teaching her how to shift her weight, and she loved the small ounce of freedom she now had to move about her room. The chairs were shoved away from the window so she could roll right up to the edge.
She pushed the window wider, ignoring the chill as she took a front-row seat to watch the dawn. All others in the house were asleep. They’d probably talked and drunk cocoa for an hour or more before turning in. Now the house was so still, not even the air moved about.
Just as the sun cleared the horizon, Nell heard a horse coming from the back trail that led away from town. She rolled to the side of her bed and pulled the old Colt out. As she’d been taught by Jacob years ago, she checked the gun to make sure it was loaded, then returned to the window.
Two horses broke from the line of trees. One rider, one pack horse loaded down.
“Hello the house!” the rider called. He pulled up as courtesy required on farms and ranches when the traveler was unknown. “Hello the house!” he called again.
Nell rolled as far as she could to the window and answered. “Ride on in.”
The man tugged the reins of the pack horse and came in slow and easy.
Nell kept the gun ready. She couldn’t see a weapon, but she’d had enough trouble of late to take precautions. As the rider neared, she saw he was little more than a boy. Almost a man, but muscles as lean as rawhide.
His pack was loaded down with rain slickers crossed over his cargo to keep it dry. There wasn’t enough light for Nell to see clearly, but one animal looked to be the midnight color or Jacob’s mount Dusty, the other horse a paint.
Nell heard the front door open and knew Harrison was awake. She also guessed that he’d meet the visitor with his rifle in hand.
“Morning,” the boy said as he swung down at the end of the walk. “I hope I’m at the right house.” He moved to the other horse and began pulling rain slickers away. “I haven’t heard a word from the ranger for hours, but he must have told me the route ten times.”
Nell’s heart caught in her throat as she recognized Jacob’s body crossed over the saddle.
She heard the clank of a rifle hitting the porch. A moment later, Harrison was by the boy’s side, helping lower Jacob to the ground.
“Mrs. O’Daniel!” Nell yelled as she rolled backward as fast as she could. “Mrs. O’Daniel, come quick.”
The nurse and Wednesday came running as if last night’s robbery had only been a drill and they were now well-trained troops. The nurse had removed the rag twists on her hair and clawed her way into her dress as she walked.
“I have to get downstairs.” Nell cried as she rolled toward the stairs.
“I’ll get the belt,” Mrs. O’Daniel said.
“No, just brace me. We can make it.” Nell was already pulling up on the banister. The nurse had no choice but to circle her waist and help her. They’d made the trip every day, but never without the belt for security. But safety wasn’t in Nell’s thoughts now.
She ignored the pain as she moved down the stairs as fast as she could, but they already had Jacob inside by the time she reached the bottom. He trailed blood behind him as they half carried, half dragged him.
Wednesday bumped the wheelchair downstairs behind them and had it ready within seconds. Everyone in the house was up now and running around wildly.
Once in her chair, Nell took a deep breath and took charge. “Get him to the study. We’ll use the desk. Marla, put water on to boil. Gypsy, bring the medicine kit and all the bandages you can find. Mrs. O’Daniel, check his wounds. If I know Dalton, it took more than one to bring him down.”
She was proud of her little army. They stripped off Jacob’s coat and shirt as well as his boots. He looked like he wore a pound of mud and almost as much blood. Gypsy grabbed a rag and began to clean, while Mrs. O’Daniel examined the wounds.
“He needs a doctor for that shoulder,” she said when she finally glanced up. “I can take care of the cuts on his arm and hands, but the shoulder wound is deep, and the cut along his middle would prove bothersome.”
Harrison lifted Jacob’s head and forced a few swallows of whiskey down his throat. “The preacher’s already gone for the doc. I told him to bring the man even if he had to talk him into it at gunpoint.” He looked over at the boy who’d brought the ranger in. “How’d this happen?”
The boy backed away. “I don’t know, I swear. I just found him like that. He told me to take him west. He said just before I got to town I’d see a house off by the train tracks and I was to take him there. He made me swear.”
Nell gripped the boy’s hand. “Thank you,” she said. “You did a good job.” She turned back to Jacob, but she heard Marla whisper to the boy that there was coffee and food in the kitchen if he was hungry.
“Thank you,” he answered. “I haven’t had anything since yesterday morning.”
Nell looked at the kid again. “What’s your name?” She tried to keep fear out of her voice. Talking might help her keep from worrying about Jacob.
“Hank, miss.” He looked frightened. “He’s going to live, isn’t he?”
Nell wished she had an answer. “Go get some coffee and warm up. You did a good thing bringing him here.”
Hank smiled.
The doctor arrived with Sheriff Parker on his heels. He quickly shooed everyone out of the study except Mrs. O’Daniel. He didn’t look like he wanted to be in Nell’s house, but a Texas Ranger was down, and it was his duty to do all he could.
“But I got to ask him questions,” Parker complained. “I got to know what happened out there.”
The doctor didn’t bother to consider the sheriff ’s demands. He only closed the door to everyone.
Nell’s small army moved to the kitchen, where they crowded around the table and drank coffee. Everyone voiced a theory on what might have happened. The boy who brought the ranger in was silent. No one felt like eating except Gypsy, who said she needed her strength now that it appeared the household had given up sleep.
Harrison, in his usual take-charge manner, poured coffee and helped Marla fix a breakfast that Nell guessed no one would eat.
An hour passed. The nurse poked her head around the door and said the doctor wanted to speak to Nell.
Everyone moved back to the study door as if Nell were their collective name.
The doctor didn’t comment, but he did direct his announcement to Nell. “He’s going to be fine. Just weak from loss of blood. The cuts are not deep, mostly bothersome. I had to stitch up one on his arm and another on the back of his shoulder. I don’t know for sure, but they look like knife wounds. He managed to wrap the cut across his ribs well enough that I think it’s started to heal without stitches, but it’ll leave an ugly scar.”
The doctor smiled and added, “They’ll match the others he’s collected over the years.”
He glanced up at the boy standing back close to the kitchen door. “If you hadn’t got him home when you did, he might have bled to death. Even now there is some danger of infection. We had to dig rocks and dirt out of some of the smaller scrapes and cuts. I’ll be interested to know what he had to go through after he was stabbed, but, son, you may have saved his life.”
Everyone turned to the kid. No one seemed to be able to find words to say until Mrs. O’Daniel screamed. “That’s him! That’s the kid who wouldn’t let me off the train when the firing started. He’s one of the bandits.”
CHAPTER 22
JACOB WOKE UP SLOWLY, ONE LIMB AT A TIME. HE opened his eyes, trying to think of the bright side. His left leg didn’t hurt. That was it, end of the bright side. Every other part of his body felt like it had been in a meat grinder.
He stretched, realizing he was off the horse fin
ally and, for the first time in days, he was warm. The boy named Hank had tried to hold him in the saddle and ride behind him, but Jacob was too heavy. Every time Jacob passed out, he hit the dirt.
Jacob grinned. He had to give the boy credit. When he’d tumbled, the kid had fallen off still trying to hold him.
When they’d found one of the other horses, Jacob had the kid tie him onto Dusty’s saddle, hoping that even if Hank decided to abandon him, Dusty would eventually head to Nell’s place. Jacob figured he was dead if they didn’t make faster time than they could make riding double, so what difference did a little discomfort make?
His gaze shifted to the top of a bookshelf in front of him. Either the kid had made it, or heaven looked a lot like an old whorehouse.
“You awake?” Gypsy popped her head into his line of vision, her nose almost touching him, her breath working like smelling salts on his senses.
He wanted to push her away but wasn’t sure he had the energy. “Yeah, I’m awake. I guess the kid got me here.”
“Three days ago,” Gypsy said. “Ever’one got tired of watching you sleep. They all left but me. I got housework to do. I don’t have time to go off fiddlin’ around in a town that don’t got nothing I want. There’s more folks pass by this house than I wanta talk to most days. Can’t see going into town just to be bothered by crowds. “
“Where’d they go?”
“I told you, town. You must have fallen on your head once too often.” Gypsy went back to cleaning the bookshelf.
He rubbed his forehead, thinking the old woman was probably right. “Any reason?” he mumbled, knowing Nell would not have left the house unless she had to.
“To see the kid who brought you in.”
Jacob tried to clear the cobwebs out of his brain. Gypsy wouldn’t fill in any details if he didn’t ask. “Why’s the kid in town?”
Gypsy tossed her rag down and turned back to Jacob. “The sheriff arrested him right after he brought you in.
Mrs. O’Daniel fingered him as one of the train robbers. She said if it wasn’t for Hank, she’d have been off the train when she heard the shooting start and probably killed dead a minute later.” Gypsy shook her dust rag out the window. “But Sheriff Parker didn’t seem to take that into consideration. He’s got the boy locked away, and Brother Aaron says there’s talk in town about hanging him straightaway without taking time for a trial.”