Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming

by Miralee Ferrell

  “Is everything all right?”

  A long pause ensued and Angel stepped closer to the hallway.

  Libby came around the corner and halted. “Were you going to your room?” She stared at the bloody cloth wrapped around Angel’s arm and rushed forward. “What happened?”

  Angel stepped back. “I’m fine. No need to worry over a little cut.”

  “A little cut? With that much blood? Let me look.” Libby held out her hand and waited.

  Angel met Libby’s gaze, unable to quell the pain she knew must shine from her eyes.

  Libby gasped. “It’s bad, isn’t it? I’m going to find Travis.”

  Panic washed over Angel. “No. Please.”

  “But it needs to be looked at. What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can tend to it.” She couldn’t let Travis know. He’d think her incapable of caring for herself out on the range.

  Libby narrowed her eyes. “Either you let me help, or I’ll get Travis. He’s in his office. Which one will it be?”

  “Fine.” Angel shrugged. “You can help.”

  Libby led the way into the kitchen and slid out a chair. “Sit. You’re white and shaking.”

  Angel dropped onto the hard wooden seat with a low moan and rested her head in her hand. “You don’t have to tell him about this, do you?”

  “Travis? Why ever not?”

  “He’ll fire me if he knows I got attacked by a mountain lion.”

  Libby gasped and placed her hand over her heart. “What in the world? How can your job be more important than your safety?” She headed across the room and plucked a pot of salve from a shelf above the wash basin. “A mountain lion? How bad is it?”

  “He was in a tree watching a cow and her calf, and I spoiled his dinner.” Angel gave a guttural laugh. “Guess he figured I’d make a good substitute when the pair ran away, but Bella had other ideas.” She looked up at Libby. “His claws raked my arm, that’s all.”

  Libby gently touched the rough bandage. “We need to get this off.” She hurried to the pantry and came back with a large, clean linen square. A quick pull at a drawer and she plucked out a pair of shears and cut the cloth in half. Folding one section into a pad, she smeared salve over the center and laid it aside. “I heated water for tea. It should still be warm enough to clean the wound.”

  Angel sat silently as Libby unwrapped her arm, wincing as the strip of cloth pulled away. The raw, double gash started to bleed again, and Libby gasped. “I think we need to get Doc Simmons out here, or take you to town. I don’t know much about flesh wounds, but your arm may need stitches and could get infected.”

  Angel shook her head. No way would she visit a doctor and miss more work. “Just put something on it and wrap it for me. I’ll be fine.”

  “Honestly, Angel, I think we need to have it looked at.”

  “Have what looked at?” Travis’s voice filled the room and Angel wilted against the table, releasing a quiet moan.

  Travis walked into the kitchen, wondering at the tense atmosphere hanging over the two women. Angel sat at the table with a cloth draped over her arm and Libby hovered nearby. “What’s going on?” He peered more closely at Angel’s arm and stopped. A hint of red showed in the center of the cloth. He took a long stride, drawing close to the two women. “Libby?”

  His sister didn’t reply, just looked at the top of Angel’s bowed head. His new employee slowly peeled off the white linen. “It’s a cut. Nothing to worry over.” Two gashes ran along the inside of her arm and blood trickled from the wound.

  He stepped closer when a loud rap at the door drew him up short. Now what? The men shouldn’t be back from gathering the cattle yet. Travis spun around, frustrated at the interruption. How in the world had Angel gotten those cuts? “Libby. Please let me know if the doc needs to see her.” The inflamed skin and jagged edges looked nasty, and he wanted to get to the bottom of this. He stalked to the door and yanked it open.

  A tall, wiry man with his hat tucked under his arm stood outside. His sandy blond hair lay neatly against his head, and a matching mustache touched his top lip. “Howdy, Travis. Sorry to bother you.”

  “Sheriff Jensen. What brings you out?” Travis swung the door wide. “Come in and have a cup of coffee.” He clenched his jaws. Right now he wanted to rush back and discover how Angel had been injured, but it was a rare event for the sheriff to visit. Libby had done volunteer nursing in San Francisco and she could tend to the wound—but that didn’t stop the unease building in his chest.

  “I’m here on business. I need to speak to your sister.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  Footsteps sounded on the floor of the sitting room, and Libby appeared in the open doorway. “I’ve finished wrapping Angel’s arm…” She looked from Travis to the sheriff. “I’m sorry, gentlemen.”

  Sheriff Jensen took a step forward. “Mrs. Waters, I rode out to speak to you about your son.”

  Libby gasped, and her face blanched. “James? What’s happened?” She gripped Travis’s arm. “I thought he was riding with the men.”

  The sheriff held up his hand. “Whoa there, ma’am. Sorry I spooked you. James is fine, as far as I know.”

  “He’s with Nate.” Travis gestured toward a high-backed chair. “Why don’t you have a seat?” He turned to Libby. “Angel’s all right?”

  She nodded. “I did the best I could for now, but I think a doctor needs to look at it.”

  Travis waited till the sheriff was seated and Libby sank onto a flowered divan, then Travis took his place in an upholstered chair. “Is my nephew in trouble?”

  “I’m not sure, but I suspect he might be.” Sheriff Jensen stroked his mustache. “I don’t have any proof, just hearsay. I hadn’t planned on coming out here, but one of the shopkeepers urged me to.”

  Libby gripped her hands in her lap. “I don’t understand.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. I’d best start at the beginning.” He sat up straight and cleared his throat. “There’s been a group of three or four boys getting into mischief in town. They started innocent enough, just playing silly pranks. But they got bolder and tipped over a privy on the edge of town, back of the boardinghouse.”

  Travis pursed his lips and snorted. “That’s not anything I approve of, but it’s certainly not criminal. And I’m guessing more than one man in this town did something similar at that age.”

  The sheriff nodded. “I agree, if the pranks had stopped there.”

  “Ah-huh.” Travis leaned back, dreading what might come. He glanced at Libby, and a prickle of sympathy struck him. She looked so alone. Was she wishing for her husband to be sitting beside her, instead of lying in a cold grave in California? He shifted uncomfortably. Part of him wanted to slip over to the divan and place his arm around her shoulders and draw her close. Let her know she had his support. But maybe she’d push him away. He chanced another look and the stark fear showing in her face decided the matter for him. Travis wasn’t his cold-hearted father. He rose from his chair and crossed to the sofa in two strides, sinking down beside his sister.

  Libby turned wide eyes to his. “Travis?” The word came out in a whisper.

  “I’m here, Sis.” He gathered her small hand in his own and squeezed. She sighed and melted against him. “Go on, Sheriff.”

  “One of the townspeople was on his way home three nights ago and saw a couple of boys hanging around the back door of Copper’s General Store. He thought he recognized your boy, Mrs. Waters.”

  Libby shook her head. “James wouldn’t have gone into town. Why, it’s almost a thirty-minute ride from the ranch.”

  The sheriff shrugged. “A healthy boy could easily walk there and back.”

  Travis nodded. “He could. But that’s not a crime.” He shot a glance at Libby. “Although I’m sure Libby would agree that if James were in town, he’d hear about it from her.”

  “And if they’d only been at the back door, I wouldn’t be here today. Mr. Copper found damage insi
de his store, not far from the door, and there are a few things missing. Of course we can’t be sure the boys did it, but it looks mighty suspicious.”

  Libby withdrew her hand from Travis’s and frowned. “We’ve only lived here four months. Does this person who thought he saw James know my son well enough to identify him? In the dark?”

  “I asked him that myself. The description he gave could have fit two or three boys your son’s age, but it’s my job to advise the parents, regardless. I’m stopping at all three homes.”

  Travis pushed himself up from the couch. “Thank you, Sheriff. We’re beholden to you. I can’t imagine my nephew would’ve walked to town. It’s not like he’s made friends with other boys in the area, having lived here such a short time, but we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  Sheriff Jensen picked up his hat from the sofa, rose, and extended his hand. “Thank you.” His grip was firm as he shook Travis’s hand. “I’m sorry to worry you, Mrs. Waters. It’s very possible your boy isn’t involved, but I thought you should know.”

  Libby stayed seated and made an effort to smile. “I understand. I appreciate you coming, and I agree with Travis. We’ll talk to James.”

  A few minutes later Travis returned to the sitting room from seeing the sheriff out. Libby sat with her face in her hands. “Libby? You all right?” He sank onto the seat beside her and touched her shoulder.

  A stifled sob came from between her fingers. “I’m not sure.” She raised tearstained eyes. “Do you think James is involved?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not like the boy, is it? Did you have trouble in San Francisco?”

  Libby drew back but didn’t reply.

  “Libby?” Travis gripped her shoulders. “Did James have something similar happen?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe. Just a little. But nothing like this.”

  “What, exactly, does that mean?”

  “Well—“ Libby fidgeted on the divan. “He had some friends his father and I didn’t approve of. That’s one reason—“ She peeked at Travis and then dropped her gaze back to her hands twisting in her lap. “I decided to come here, instead of moving back with Papa. Since Papa lives in a city…”

  “You thought there’d be less chance he’d get in trouble here.”

  “Yes.”

  Travis touched her trembling hands. “I’m not angry. We don’t know for sure that James went to town.”

  She leaned against him and a sob slipped out. “You won’t send us away?”

  Travis drew her within the circle of his arm. “Of course not. You’re my family. We’ll talk to James together, if you’d like.”

  Libby nodded and sniffed. “Thank you, Travis. I’d like that.”

  Travis squeezed her shoulders and moved away, then froze. “We forgot about Angel! She might need a doctor.” He jumped up and raced from the room, vaguely aware of Libby following.

  They pulled up short and stared. Only a pan of bloody water and rags sat on the table. Angel was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  Angel slipped into her room, twisted the doorknob, and released it gently, her heart racing at what she’d just heard. She’d sat at the table for several minutes after Travis and Libby left the room—long enough to know who’d arrived. She’d nearly bolted, fearing the sheriff had come to take her away, but she’d forced herself to stay put. No one knew she’d ridden in that last cattle raid. She’d eased out of her chair and tiptoed to the edge of the door leading into the living room. It hadn’t taken long to discover the man had come for another reason entirely.

  She placed her hand over the bandage and lowered herself onto the edge of her bed. Libby had done a fine job of dressing it. She’d found some charcoal powder to draw out the poison and sprinkled it over the wounds before applying the bandage covered with salve.

  Shame washed over her. She’d judged Libby, thinking her a spoiled woman who’d never known hardship, and here her boy had caused her grief for months—maybe even longer. Angel slipped away from the door when Libby started to cry, her sobs piercing the hard armor wrapped around Angel’s heart.

  But she couldn’t let her guard down. If only she could find a place where she truly fit in, rather than just being tolerated. Travis kept her here out of desperation, not because he cared about her as a person. A rush of blood warmed her cheeks as the implication hit her. Of course he wouldn’t care about her personally, and she didn’t want that— did she? She tried to quench the longing that burned in her chest. It would be nice if Travis cared—and Libby too—but she wouldn’t set herself up for disappointment by expecting that.

  A soft knock sounded on her door, and she pushed to her feet. Libby probably wanted to make sure her arm was all right. The throbbing hadn’t eased, and a terrible burning had started, running from the wound up past her elbow. She bit her lip and raised her chin. No need to be a baby. She’d been hurt before and hadn’t complained.

  She swung open her door and stood rooted to the spot. Travis had his hand raised, ready to knock again. “Travis. Is everything all right?”

  He took a step back. “That’s what I want to know. Are you up to talking?”

  “Certainly.” Angel drew the door shut behind her. Her bandaged arm brushed the door frame, and she winced.

  Travis drew in a sharp breath. “You’re in pain. I’ll send for the doctor.”

  “No. I’m fine.” She turned away and marched down the short hall to the dining room and slid out a chair. “Is that what you wanted to talk about? It’s only a scratch.”

  His brow furrowed. “That’s not what it looked like to me. Libby’s afraid it might require stitches.”

  “She did a good job cleaning it. There’s no need for worry.”

  Travis gripped the back of a chair. “You’re my employee, so I need to concern myself. An injury like this could lay you up for days.”

  Angel’s stomach clenched in a knot and she took a step back. Here she’d been hoping for a place where she’d fit, and Travis made it clear he only cared about her doing her job. Fine. She’d do it whether it pained her or not. “It won’t. I’ll be back to work tomorrow. Don’t worry; you’ll get your money’s worth.”

  His mouth fell open and he snapped it shut, then started to open it again.

  Someone pounded on the door.

  Travis glared toward the front of the house and spun away from her. “What now?” He stalked out of the room.

  “Boss. You’d better get out here and Miss Angel too, if she’s inside.” Wren’s steely voice sent Angel racing out of the room. She hit the entryway and skidded to a stop in time to see James bolt in behind the cowboy.

  The young man’s hands shook. “Miss Angel, your horse— she’s sick or something. She’s thrashing all over.”

  Wren gripped the boy’s arm and pushed him back. “I think it’s colic. Looks bad.”

  Angel emitted a strangled cry and leapt through the opening and across the porch. José had given her the filly when Bella was born. He suggested the name, explaining it meant “my beautiful one” in her mother’s language. Angel had taken one look at the long-legged foal and agreed. The baby had bonded with her quickly over the next few days. Bella couldn’t die—she was Angel’s last link to her family.

  Travis raced around the corner of the barn in time to see Angel draw up near the corral. Colic could kill a horse. A deep groaning met his ears before he spotted Bella lying on her side in the dirt. The mare attempted to lunge to her feet but fell back with another loud groan. She lay panting for a moment, then jerked all four legs in the air and flopped over to the other side, repeating the movement several times. Angel leaned over the rail and spoke quietly to the horse, avoiding the flailing hooves.

  Dismay hit Travis hard. Why had he been so harsh, allowing her to think he only cared about what she could do for him? He’d never been much good with women. Not with his mother in the past, or his sister—and apparently that carried over to female employees. He felt sick with worry about Angel’s horse, but
even more so about the injury she’d shrugged off. Infection could set in and cause gangrene. His throat ached at the thought of Angel suffering. When they got past this crisis, he’d talk to her again. Only this time he’d convince her she mattered to him as a person, not merely a hired hand.

  Wren and James came from the barn, Wren gripping a rope halter. “You’ll need to get her up and walking.”

  “I know.” She took the halter and slipped it over her arm, tossing the long length of rope over her shoulder. “I’ll wait till she’s done thrashing so I don’t get kicked.”

  James stopped beside her. “Why’s she groaning? What’s wrong with her?”

  Angel leaned on the fence. “You ever have a bad bellyache? One that hurts so much you want to curl up and die?”

  He nodded, his face solemn. “Yeah. One time when I was little Ma had to call the doctor, I was screaming so loud.”

  “That’s how Bella feels—only she can’t scream, she can only groan.”

  “Is she gonna die?”

  Bella lay quiet, breathing hard.

  “I sure hope not, but it’s possible.” Angel slipped between the wooden bars. “I’ll get her on her feet and walk her for the next few hours. Rolling on the ground can twist her gut into a knot and then she’d die for sure.”

  “Can I help?” The boy hooked a leg over the rail, but Travis drew him back.

  “Wait, son. You might spook her. She knows Angel, but she doesn’t know us.” Travis understood how the boy felt—he desperately wanted to lend a hand, as well. But the struggling mare would panic if too many strangers came close while she fought this pain. He’d never lost a horse to colic but had heard horrible stories about their suffering. He said a silent prayer for the animal, knowing Bella’s future lay in God’s capable and caring hands.

  Angel inched her way closer. Bella lay on her side. A quick flick of her wrist and Angel slipped the halter over Bella’s nose, securing it behind her ears. “You’re going to be all right. Easy there.” She knelt beside the mare’s head, stroked the length of her neck, then gently rubbed behind her ears. “I need you to get up, Bella.” She stood and took a step back, tightening the rope attached to the halter.