Kat brought her fingers to her lips. She'd heard the warning, but one thought floated above all the rest. Why should he be sorry?
Chapter 21
Ten Kinds of Fool
Nathaniel wasn't surprised that Kat had not returned home yet. Babies have their own schedule when it's time to be born and nothing anyone could do would change that.
He dressed and went to the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee. Taking one of the medical journals Kat had brought home for him to read, he sat down at the table to wait for the water to boil. He hadn't read more than a page when he heard the fast approach of a horse up the road. Sighing, he closed the journal. A quick sip from his freshly brewed coffee was all he managed before the anticipated pounding started on his door.
Noah stood there looking gray and frightened. The words tumbled out on themselves, nonsensical. Nathaniel stepped onto the porch and placed his hands on the man's trembling shoulders.
"Slow down, Noah! Tell me what's happened."
"They've been shot, Doc! I think he's dead. And I think Ethan may be dying too."
"Who's dead?"
"Liam." The name came out choked.
"So, where's Ethan?" Nathaniel had already turned back into the house, heading to the examining room for his bag.
"He's up at the cabin above Schmidt's Valley. The old trapper's cabin."
Nathaniel mentally considered the possible reasons for the two men to have been in that remote area. Obviously, it was not some hunting accident if both were shot. With a sinking conviction, he knew that this had some connection to the recent wagon robberies.
Opening the drawer of his dresser to add another shirt to his kit, his hand brushed the cold barrel of his Colt pistol, the one he'd carried in the war. For a long moment he considered adding it to his bag. With what he knew and all he suspected, he very well might be walking into a very dangerous situation. He and Kat had been threatened. But he'd never used a weapon in his nightmare years of the war, why would he start now? Liam and Noah had been his patients from the time they could walk. Earning the town's respect as a healer had taken years of selfless and often thankless late-night visits to sick beds. No, he was a doctor. He'd been called and he'd answer as he always had.
Before heading out to the stable, he hesitated, wondering if he should write a note for Kat. But if this were a situation that was connected to the thefts, he didn't want Kat walking into it. Knowing her as well as he did, he knew she might not as easily leave her gun behind. He threw up an awkward prayer to a God he wasn't sure he believed in, then started off to the barn, where he quickly saddled up the sorrel.
"You are ten kinds of a fool!" Jonathan said it aloud to no one but Jessie, who nickered scornful agreement. "And who asked you? You'd have kissed her too if she'd looked at you that way. But then you'd kiss anyone who gave you a lump of sugar."
Jonathan pulled up just outside town, and lifted a hand to his chin. The stubble he felt there made him frown. "And I hadn't even shaved." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling suddenly the lack of sleep. "I need some coffee."
The boarding house was open for breakfast. That sounded like the best idea he'd had all day. He found a table by the window with a good clear view of the town, one even allowing a view of the road leading to the Meriwethers' home. If anyone headed up there, he'd see them. Of course, he knew that they could come in from the mountain as well, but he couldn't exactly bunk there. He ordered coffee and pancakes.
Kat stayed on the porch for a while, her eyes following Jonathan as he rode down the hill to town. She wished she had the courage to call after him, to ask him to come back, to sit with her in the early morning light and just stay by her side. She wrapped her arms around her body, trying to recall the warmth she'd felt in his arms. Touching two fingers to her lips, she tried to bring the memory back. She squeezed her eyes shut, right hand instinctively drifting toward her ear. No! Thumb and forefinger hovered over her earlobe, poised to drive the memory of fierce, unexpected joy from her senses. She felt charged, as though a summer thunderstorm was brewing beneath her skin. Traitorously, her hand fell away.
She took in a deep breath. She breathed out. And then slipped the memory and the acknowledgement of desire into her pocket beside a worn letter.
The silence of a home hastily vacated is different than one left with forethought and intention. Clues are left behind, minutia in and of themselves, but as more are discovered, they build a worrying case for fear.
Kat found the coffee mug nearly filled, lukewarm, still on the table. She lightly touched the pot on the stove. It was still warm. Hmm. He didn't leave that long ago. Wonder why he didn't leave a note. She added fuel to the stove and went to her room to change her shirt and pants. It felt good to put on clean clothes and the smell of coffee improved her mood even more. Finding a muffin her father had purchased from the bake sale made her breakfast particularly pleasant. As she passed the kitchen table, her eye snagged on her father's coat, slung over the back of a chair. Odd for him to leave without it. It must have been a particularly urgent call.
She carried her mug out onto the porch where she gazed down into the town, the neat little houses, mostly painted white, gleaming in the early morning light. The town was stirring awake, someone was shaking out a rug, and a delivery wagon had just pulled up to the mercantile. This was still her town.
She frowned as Jonathan's words of warning drove away the impression of peace. Watch your back. Sheriff Hall knew she and her father suspected he was involved with these robberies. Suddenly, the sorrel's absence, the lack of a note, the lukewarm cup of coffee, the coat - these portents coalesced and drove a dagger of fear into her gut.
She put down her mug on the step and ran to the barn. Perhaps he'd told Mr. or Mrs. Forester where he'd gone. That was his habit after all. Blue wouldn't be happy about having her breakfast interrupted, but she'd feel better knowing where her father had gone. Worrying was pointless if a short ride to town would answer the question. Blue did protest the saddling before she finished her grass, but Kat stroked her neck and promised a half ration more.
When she walked into the mercantile, she found Mr. Forester at the counter measuring fabric for a customer. "Morning Kat! You're up early."
"Hello, Mr. Forester. Did Father come in this morning and tell you who called him out? Looks like he took off in a hurry since he didn't take the time to take the buggy."
"No. Haven't seen him in here. Anything wrong?"
Her heart dropped. She contemplated telling him of her concern, but checked herself. It could still indeed be her imagination and lack of sleep making her anxious. "Thank you, but it's fine." Kat turned, took a few steps, and stopped on the steps of the mercantile. Jonathan's bay was still tied to the railing in front of the boarding house. The temptation to run to him with this vague fear was so strong that she felt she fought against gravity.
Her right hand gripped the rough wood of the hitching post, grounding her. For the second time that day, she strove to strip away emotion and concentrate on the purity of inhalation and exhalation. Her heart steadied. Making her decision, she stepped into the saddle stirrup, swinging quickly up. She turned Blue toward home, racing to stay a breath ahead of fear and hesitation.
When the men entered the room, Jonathan looked up from his plate of pancakes floating in a pond of syrup.
A very square man wearing a suit coat and bowler hat walked in with two other men in similar attire, obviously business men since everyone else in the place was dressed like ranchers or farmers. "Well, I don't think we can just sit around and do nothing."
"And you're going to do something?" The taller of the three threw the square man a scornful look before sitting at a table next to Jonathan's.
"I didn't say that." The square man sat with his back to Jonathan.
"Well, he's right, but that's the trouble. No one's willing to face Hall, especially since he hired on that new man. I've never seen a more dangerous looking fellow. Jamison said he's known in La
ke City for his speed with a gun. I can believe it! Thought those days were over. Lord-a-mighty! We're practically a state!"
The square man ordered a plate of two eggs, a slice of ham, and a stack of pancakes, then said, "We should elect a sheriff like other towns, not have someone dance in here and appoint himself!"
The tall man ordered biscuits and gravy and said, "Jamison heard the sheriff talking at the picnic that the only way to keep the town free of violence was to not allow anyone to carry a gun in town!"
The third man ordered coffee and said, "And how's he going to do that?"
The tall man said, "Jamison said that he's planning to make his deputies force anyone coming into town to check their weapons in at the office over there."
All three men made unique variations of a harrumphing sound of contempt.
"Well, people won't stand for it," the square man said.
The tall man said, "Jamison was talking to that new man that took over Schmidt's homestead, and he knows how to run a proper election. He once was on a committee back east that helped elect a mayor. He even served as president on a school board. He's a man of education, Jamison said."
Jonathan put down his fork and picked up his coffee mug, his attention now completely focused on the conversation.
"Maybe he'd run for sheriff," the square man offered.
"You gotta be good with a gun to be sheriff," the tall man said.
"Who said?" the third man asked. "Seems a smart man could do the job just as well, if he could hire himself some men who could shoot."
"Well, none of it matters if we can't get Hall to agree to an election, now does it?" the tall man quipped.
"Well, that's the truth. The thing is, this man, Hindricks, says a reasonable man would at least be open to it," the square man said.
"Don't think I'd call Hall reasonable." The third man snickered. "Anything but."
"Well Hindricks seemed bent on giving it a try, planned to talk to him soon, he said." The tall man sat back, arms folded across his chest.
The third man rocked his chair back and snorted. "That would be worth seeing."
Their food was brought to them and talking was suspended. Jonathan paid his bill and stepped out into the street, leaving his half-eaten breakfast on the table.
He felt it again, that sudden chill that warned him when a storm was coming, when peaceful resolutions would be overwhelmed with violence. What was Timothy thinking? He was too trusting to think he could reason with a man like Hall. The die had been cast when Hall had hired Cahill. He was making it clear to those who had ears to hear it, that any challenge to his authority would be put down with force.
Jonathan looked up the road in the direction of the Meriwether house. Oh girl, what have you got yourself into?
But Timothy had stepped into the same hornets' nest, with his optimism and good opinion of the intentions of men. Jonathan knew different. Expect the worst and you won't be fooled.
He untied his bay and swung up into the saddle. With a kick to her flank, she started at a run. Jonathan felt a premonition of ill wind blowing clearly in the direction of Schmidt's Valley.
Nathaniel followed Noah up the narrow trail passing the homestead where Timothy, Jonathan, and Adam lived. There was a point in the trail where the trees thinned, giving Nathaniel a view of their cabin below. He could see a man on horseback speaking with a man standing just outside the cabin. He wondered if it was Jonathan, but from this distance he couldn't know for certain. He wished it were Jonathan, and he wished he could get word to him to go back down the mountain and stay with Kat until he knew everything was all right.
A few minutes more and they were emerging from the dense stand of pine into the small clearing with the sagging cabin. Nathaniel immediately took in the scene. Just behind the cabin stood two mules wearing what looked like heavy packs. One horse, still saddled, was grazing in the sunniest section of the clearing. Propped against the wall of the house was Ethan Hall, eyes closed, shirt stained red. In the dirt, a few yards away, lay the still body of Liam.
Nathaniel jumped down and handed his horse's reins to Noah. He first checked Liam's pulse, confirming Noah's fear that he was dead. Then he stepped up onto the porch and knelt by Ethan. He felt for a pulse. A light, but steady beat ticked beneath his fingertips. He stood and grabbed Ethan under his arms, turning his body so that he could ease him into a prone position. Ethan groaned softly.
Nathaniel hated gut shots. As a surgeon in the war, he'd seen enough for a lifetime. Men rarely survived them, but that was partially due to the triage pressure of treating those most likely to survive. With good care and prompt treatment it was possible to save them now. But odds of survival were still poor. He tore away Ethan's shirt and wiped the wound clean.
Ethan groaned again. Blearily, he looked up at Nathaniel, then to the side at the crumpled body. Nathaniel watched awareness return, like nausea hitting a seasick man.
Ethan squeezed his eyes closed, his words coming out raspy and soft. "Doc, you shouldn't be here."
Nathaniel laughed softly, though there was no real humor in his heart. "This is exactly where I should be. This is what I do."
Ethan lifted his hand, grabbing Nathaniel's wrist. "No! I mean it! You shouldn't be here. When my father comes and he sees you, he'll..." He closed his eyes for just a moment and spoke through clenched teeth. "He'll. . .he'll kill you."
"Because I know about his involvement in the robberies?" Nathaniel said.
Ethan hissed, "Yes." The guile so natural to him seemed to have drained out with his own blood.
"Ethan, this is what I do. I can't not do what I've been doing all my life. Let me do my job."
Ethan seemed confused but released Nathaniel's wrist. "Then patch me up and light out. Get back to your daughter. Protect yourselves. Maybe I can convince my father to leave now." Ethan sagged, eyes unfocused and drifting back toward the body, too weak to say more.
"Noah, look at me! Go get the sheriff. Tell him his son has been injured. We'll need help to get him down the mountain."
"But, Doc, he'll kill us both!" Noah whined.
Nathaniel looked up at Noah, his voice calm, steady. "Noah, this is the right thing to do."
Timothy saw Cahill ride in with Adam at his side. Adam was laughing as if in response to a joke Cahill had just told him. Timothy felt an alarming uneasiness seeing them together like that. He remembered the conversation Jonathan had relayed, the one in which he'd threatened Nathaniel and his daughter. He couldn't think of any good reason for the man to be in his valley. And more importantly, he couldn't think why he'd be in the company of his son.
"Morning, Father. Jonathan and I found those missing steers. We put them in with the others. Jonathan decided to take a ride into town. I met Mr. Cahill on my way over."
Timothy nodded to Cahill while addressing his son. "Why don't you put up your horse and go have your breakfast. Pancakes are on the table."
Timothy waited for Cahill to explain his presence while Adam led his own horse to the paddock.
"Mr. Hindricks." Cahill tipped his hat. "You've got a fine boy there. He seems to be educated, more than me anyway. This territory needs smart young boys like that to grow up into men who can build this territory into a state."
Timothy nodded, but held his tongue.
"I heard you was thinking of running for sheriff, that so?" Cahill asked casually.
Timothy couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Me? That's the first I heard of it."
"Folks say you've been talking about holding an election. They said you had experience with that sort of thing." Cahill took off his hat and pulled a hand through his slick hair.
"Yes, I do, and yes, some men were talking about it at the picnic, but I never offered to run. That's ridiculous."
Cahill put his hat back on his head and cocked his head to the side, staring at Timothy for a long moment. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. That doesn't seem like a good idea. Seems you have enough to do running this place and looking af
ter that smart boy of yours. Would be a shame to have something happen to him riding out there alone. This can be a mighty wild country."
Timothy rolled his hands into fists, his arms rigid at his side. "I think you should leave my place, Mr. Cahill." He said it low with an unmistakable cadence of finality.
"I will, Mr. Hindricks. I will. Glad we had this little talk. Good day." He put his hat back on his head and trotted off.
Timothy let out a long breath.
Chapter 22
Kat’s Justice
Kat sat on the front porch and stared into the murky, now cold contents of her father's abandoned coffee mug. Where was he? She went through a mental list of all the possible patients he might have been in a hurry to see. Nobody was in any current crisis as far as she knew. She swirled the cup's contents and threw the liquid onto the rose bush. At that moment she noticed that there were buds just days from bursting out in color, and with that awareness came the memory that she'd doubted she would stay this long.
Watch your back.
If there had been another robbery attempt, perhaps someone else had been shot. Could it have been that they didn't want to risk moving the injured man? And what if the injured man was one of the outlaws? Would they dare to ask her father to go to him? Would he have willingly gone with them?
I can't just sit here and wait for news. I can't! With no further delay, she pulled the Browning from the wall, picked up a box of ammunition from the cabinet and walked out of the house. Blue rolled her eyes warily at her while Kat pulled the saddle from its rack on the wall. In ten minutes, she was in the saddle, the rifle secured in the leather scabbard. She nudged Blue's sides and headed down the road to town for answers
Her boots rapped out staccato beats as she jogged up the steps of Gilford Hall's two-story house at the end of the street. She pounded on the door. For several minutes there was no response, and then she heard the sound of footsteps tapping across the wood floor. The door opened and Kat was looking into the face of a middle-aged Indian woman. She gave Kat a mild smile and asked what she wanted.
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