Texas Twilight

by Caroline Fyffe

  “Have you seen the hot springs?” Lector asked, pointing down Spring Street to the rocky area a few hundred feet away. There was a bridge that spanned the swampy area of bubbling water and mist.

  “No. And I’m not interested in seeing them with you.” His forwardness had her blood boiling. “Now, if you’d hand my books back, I’d like to be on my way.”

  He let out a sharp laugh. “I guess that answers my next question.”

  Charity was still facing Main Street where her brother’s office and Lily’s shop were now only a block away and plainly in view. A rider coming down the middle of the street snagged her attention and her heart did a summersault of excitement. There was no mistaking who it was as the rider made a straight line to her with the intent of an eagle after its kill. He was now within thirty feet, and the anger around his mouth and his dark shuttered eyes made her want to run for cover.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Brandon Crawford reined up next to her and Lector Boone. “Charity.” His tone was curt. “I’d like a word with you.”

  “The young lady is busy.” Lector took a step toward the street and closer to Brandon on his horse.

  Charity bristled at Brandon’s tone but knew it was warranted. He had every right to be furious with her. It looked as if he’d been riding hard for days and his horse appeared spent. Several days’ growth of beard covered his normally clean-shaven face and his clothes were dirty from living on the trail. His gaze raked Lector from head to toe. Knowing Brandon as she did, she realized if she didn’t act swiftly things could get dangerous. Reaching for her books, she took them from Lector and stepped back.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Boone. I can manage the rest of the way on my own.” She started to step into the street to cross, hoping to separate the two large men, but Lector took her arm, stopping her.

  Brandon swung from his saddle and stepped forward. He pulled Lector’s hand from her arm, causing Boone to throw a punch that Brandon dodged.

  “Stop this instant,” Charity shouted. She stepped between the men and pushed on Brandon’s chest with both her hands, but he didn’t budge. Boone’s hot breath scorched the back of her neck and a mad bull, wanting to charge, came momentarily to her mind, unbidden. “I said stop!”

  “You know this man?” Lector said from behind her.

  “You’re damn right, she knows me,” Brandon answered for her in a low, dangerous tone. His unreadable gaze left Boone only for a moment to singe her to her toes.

  “The two of you stop this foolishness and calm down.” Charity stomped her foot in an attempt to make her point.

  When she felt Lector step back, she thought it safe to turn around and face him. “Again, Mr. Boone, I thank you for your help. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d please leave. I never asked you to take my books in the first place. I’ll thank you to leave me alone in the future.”

  She stepped into the street and marched toward the hotel, all the while praying the men would turn and go their separate ways. When she’d seen Brandon riding down the street toward her, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. She’d wanted to run to him. The way she used to do when they were kids, and throw herself into his arms. He was her knight in shining armor, always showing up at the exact right moment. He’d taken the blame for childhood pranks for her sake, more times than she could count. He’d lifted her spirits when she felt sad. Dried her tears if she cried. Just a glance from Brandon could cause her heart to float like a snowflake or melt with desire.

  Then, when he’d taken the job as the sheriff of Y Knot four years ago, her adoring heart believed it was his way of staying close to her until she was old enough to marry. Well, she was eighteen now and it had been one misunderstanding after another, and all the while her doubt that he wanted to be part of the family—more than her husband—grew until it was all-enveloping. She’d seen the desire to belong lurking behind his eyes, more times than she’d to remember. Everyone loved Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Her parents, the ranch hands. Everyone. Brandon was the fifth brother and was loyal to the McCutcheons to a fault. Problem was, she wanted to be loved for who she was, not for the family she came from. Doubt was always in the back of her mind, gnawing away at her confidence.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Boone was gone, thank goodness, and Brandon just stood there with his reins in his hand, watching her. She wished fervently she could talk to him now and tell him how sorry she was for not letting anyone know she’d left Denver and traveled on to Rio Wells. Her desire to live told her this was not the right time, however. She couldn’t ever remember seeing him as furious as he looked at this moment.

  John waited a moment before pounding on Charity’s door again, for the third time. “Open the door, Charity! I’m not leaving until you do. I know you’re in there.”

  The door flew open and Charity flung her arms wide. “Why not just go tell the whole town what’s going on. My goodness, you’re loud.”

  “Don’t you try to change the subject on me.” He charged into her hotel room and slammed the door. “Sit,” he said, pointing to the chair by the window. She did his bidding without question and waited for what she knew was next.

  “I can’t believe you took off without permission or even telling anyone that you were coming to Texas. My God, do you know what could have happened? I’ll admit I was more than surprised when everyone allowed you to travel to Texas alone, but held my tongue. Now that I know you came without telling anyone, I’m furious. How disrespectful of you. How thoughtless. Frankly, Charity, I’m appalled.”

  She flinched at his words. Too bad if he hurt her feelings. What she’d just put the family through was reprehensible. She’d been getting her way since the day she was born. It was about time she grew up and realized that actions had consequences.

  “Let me explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. When I saw the condition Brandon was in I thought something horrible had happened back at the ranch. That someone was dead. Hell, I don’t know what I thought, but it scared the hell out of me. Then he explained that he’d gone to Denver to check…” He stopped and shook his head. “No. You’re going to have to hear it from him.” He paced to the window and then back to where Charity sat. “I think you’ve really done it this time, Charity. I wouldn’t blame him if he rode out of your life forever.”

  Charity stood, her face as white as a sheet, and hurried to his side. “Don’t say that. It’s not true. I needed to see you. Please listen to me. I kept telling everyone that there was something wrong, since I hadn’t heard from you in so long, that I had to come and see. Mother and father were away and I knew no one would agree to my going. So, I made the plan to go to Denver and then just keep going.”

  A tingle of guilt for not writing to her as he knew he should, jabbed him hard in his conscience, telling him to ease up, that he was partly to blame. Still, what Brandon had just gone through was inexcusable.

  “Where is Brandon? I want to talk to him, to explain.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you just saying that or don’t you really know.”

  “I really don’t know. I’ve never seen him this upset. Seriously, he is livid.”

  She sank down on the side of the bed and stared at the wall. She looked wretched. If he’d done what he should have she wouldn’t have taken off. He reached up and ran his fingertips across the healing and still-tender tissue on his face. Moments turned into minutes. Finally, he stepped forward and sat down next to her, sensing her anxiety.

  She glanced at him through tear filled eyes.

  “We all make mistakes, I guess,” he mumbled.

  With the back of her knuckle she wiped away a single tear from her cheek, then slowly shook her head. “No. I always seem to mess things up. Sometimes I don’t know if I do that on purpose just because things start to go right.”

  He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her over to him. She seemed so small and he was pulled back in time to when the two
of them had had to fend off the older three siblings. They’d been a pretty good team back then.

  “I have a confession,” he said softly. “I knew I should send word to you, to write, but I guess I didn’t want you to come out and see this.” He pointed to his scar. “Until it was healed a little more. I was being vain. I thought about it several times and kept putting it off. I could have written to you and eased your mind, but I didn’t.”

  He waited a few minutes to let his words sink in. “So, I’m as much to blame for this mess as you.”

  “So, everyone at the ranch now knows?”

  He nodded.

  “Did Brandon go all the way—”

  “That you’re going to have to hear from him. But, if I were you, I’d give him some time to cool off. I’d wait until tomorrow at least.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  John had a bad feeling. He hadn’t exaggerated when he told Charity he’d never seen his friend so angry. Over the years Brandon and his sister had had their ups and downs, with plenty of antics and theatrics from Charity, to be sure. But, Brandon was a man, and one that could just be at the end of his rope. “Well, I don’t think you have a choice.”

  She nodded then gave him a wobbly smile. “You’re right. I don’t have a choice. But, tomorrow I’ll explain, make him see why I had to come. He’ll understand. He’ll forgive me. That’s just his nature.”

  She leaned over and kissed John’s good cheek, making his heart lurch. Damn, he

  hoped it was true. It would be a sad day indeed without Brandon around. The sheriff was already part of the McCutcheon clan, and it was too strange a thought to even think of anything different.

  Charity went over to her pitcher and poured some water into the basin, splashing her face. “Tomorrow is a new day,” she said.

  He nodded sympathetically. That it was. A new day for him, too. For him and Emmeline.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Shots woke Lily in the middle of the night. Sitting up, she brushed the hair from her eyes with shaking hands. Blinking to adjust to the darkness, she looked across the hallway to her Tante’s room. It was difficult to see, but the tiny bit of moonlight coming in through her aunt’s window showed that she still slept soundly.

  Flipping her covers back, Lily rose and pulled on her heavy wrapper and hurried out of the bedroom. The white kitty, which had been sleeping beside her, hopped down and followed behind. In the upstairs sitting area she lit one candle and looked around to see that everything was as it should be. Loud voices came from the alley, and a door banged. She hurried down the stairs, careful of the flame, and lit the lantern in the kitchen. First she tried the front door to make certain it was locked. Then at the back, when she pulled the curtain aside to peek out, she saw several men gathered around as two more carried a person toward John’s office. Tucker was out there too, and when he saw her looking out, he hurried to her door.

  “What happened?” she asked, letting him in and closing the door. “I heard gun shots.”

  “Don’t know exactly yet, but someone at the hotel took a bullet.”

  Lily gasped. “It wasn’t Charity, was it?”

  “No.”

  “Or Emmeline?”

  Again Tucker shook his head. “No. A man. They carried him into Doc’s office.”

  “Is it bad? Do they have the gunman?”

  Again Tucker shook his head, causing his tousled brown hair to fall into his eyes. Apparently quite comfortable with her now, he used his stump to brush it away.

  “What?” she asked. “There is more you are not telling me.” Her imagination took flight, cooking up all sorts of horrible things. “What is it?”

  “Well, a women seems to have been roughed up some, too. She’s already at the doc’s office. Looks like she’ll die.”

  “Was she from the saloon?” Lily felt guilty for having voiced such an indelicate question, but saloon girls lived a dangerous life.

  “No. She was a guest in the hotel. Someone broke in, then stabbed her when she woke up and screamed. That’s when the other man came to help her and got shot. She was in the same room John used to have.” He gave her a strange look and started for the door. “I better go now and see if they need my help. Keep your doors locked. Sheriff Dane and the deputy are out doing a search. You’ll probably see ‘em walking around, so don’t be scared. “

  Lily stifled a shiver. The kitten wound around her legs until she picked her up. “Thank you for filling me in.”

  “John asked me to check on you and also Charity and Emmeline at the hotel.”

  After letting him out and securing the lock, Lily made the rounds again, checking the windows even though she was confident they were bolted.

  There were footsteps out front and then a knocking on the front door. She hurried over and pushed the curtain aside just enough to see the sheriff. She unlatched the door and opened it a few inches.

  “Sheriff?”

  “Good evening, Miss Anthony,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve heard the commotion going on the last few minutes. I was wondering if I could come in and have a quick look around.” There were several men waiting by their horses.

  “Now, Sheriff?” Lily glanced over to a small clock on the fabric shelf and saw that it was fifteen minutes until three. “It’s late and my aunt is sleeping.”

  “I understand, but we’re conducting a search. I must insist.”

  Reluctantly, she opened the door and let him in. He walked around the shop, glancing in corners. He pulled back the drape to the dressing room and when he found it empty, let it swing back into place. He nodded as if satisfied.

  When he placed a foot on the first step leading to the bedrooms, Lily came forward. “Please, Sheriff. My aunt has not been well. If she wakes up and sees you, she will be frightened to death. I just came from up there and assure you there is not anyone there who should not be.”

  His shoulders relaxed and he took his hat off and ran his hand over his face, then exhaled. “Fine, then. I want you to let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

  John pulled the sheet up over the woman’s face then stood, looking at her. When they’d brought her in, she’d been clinging to life by a thread, and a frail, worn one at that. He and Bixby had tried everything to stop the bleeding from the stab wound, but it was like trying to dam the Mississippi.

  With nothing else to do for her, he went over to the examination table and looked at the chest wound of the other patient Bixby was preparing to work on. Tucker was holding the ether cloth over the man’s nose and mouth.

  “Get me the tweezers,” Dr. Bixby said. “Cotton and the bottle of alcohol.” John did as he asked, and the older doctor poured the clear liquid into the bleeding wound then swabbed it with the cotton. He took the tweezers and forceps and explored around inside the man’s chest until he stopped, then felt again.

  Moving his hand slowly, he worked the instrument until he had the bullet and pulled it out. A fresh wave of blood bubbled up from the small hole. “Pour some more whisky in there. Then cover it with cotton and bandage it.”

  “Everyone okay over at the hotel?” John asked Tucker, as he did as Bixby had asked him to do.

  “Scared but alive.”

  “And Lily?”

  “She was awake and peeking out her window.”

  Just then Brandon came into the examination room, pulled a chair from under the desk and turned it around. He straddled it, then watched John mop up the blood from the man’s body. Bixby left the room.

  “You look like hell,” John said, meaning it. “You been drinking yourself to death?”

  Brandon shook his head and motioned to the man on the table. “He going to make it?”

  “Too soon to tell.”

  “Was he able to say anything before he went under?”

  “Don’t think so. But, then, I was working on the woman.”

  Brandon grunted. His bloodshot eyes looked tired and his face strained. John knew this man as well as he knew
any of his brothers. He could see he was hurting.

  “I spoke with Charity tonight.” John tried to see where his comment might take him.

  The nickel Brandon was twirling in his fingers stilled.

  “She’s extremely upset about the whole mess.”

  “That’s a might hard to believe. Charity always has things under control. Don’t you know that by now, John Jake?”

  John, finished with the patient, went to the basin and washed up. He let the comment go while he dried his hands and went to the door. “Come on. I’ll put on a pot of coffee. I don’t think we’re going to be getting any sleep tonight. Got some things I want to talk to you about anyway.”

  “If one of those things is Charity, don’t waste your breath.” He got up and followed his friend into the kitchen, plopping down into the chair. Tucker remained in the examination room with the injured man, and Bixby had retired to his room.

  “Just so you know, part of this mess with Charity running off lies at my door. I should have returned her letters promptly. She’d written several in my last months at school and then here, and I didn’t get back to her. She may not show it all the time, Brandon, but she’s sensitive. She was worried about me.”

  Brandon waved him off, obviously not ready to let his anger go. “That’s a croc—”

  He stopped abruptly. “Said I wasn’t going to talk about her.” Several moments passed. “How you like Rio Wells?”

  John stirred up the coals in the woodstove and put the coffeepot filled with water on to boil. He then scooped a half cup of grounds from a can and carefully put them in the coffee basket, placing that into the pot. “It’s not Y Knot, if that’s what you want to know,” he said with a chuckle, then looked over his shoulder at his friend. “But, it’s not that bad, either. I’m getting to know the people and that helps. Sure is hot, though. That’s hard to like.”