by Deborah Camp
She took the whiskey back to the small room and helped her uncle take a sip of it. He smiled his gratitude before finishing it off. When he rested his head on the pillow again, color had returned to his wrinkled cheeks.
“So, was Trey one of them who jumped you?”
He frowned a little. “Like I said. Hard to say.”
“You won’t even tell me? Why are you protecting them? They sure aren’t protecting you!”
“It’s law business and you don’t need to worry none about it. Once I get some rest, I’ll be up and about and I’ll take care of the situation. It’s not your place to be aiming to fight Pullman or anyone else. Let me and Moon handle this.”
“He’s beaten you and had Dalton shot.” Dalton! She stood, realizing that she’d completely forgot about having dinner with him.
“Nobody knows who shot Moon,” he mumbled.
She ran her damp palms over her skirt. She picked up the empty glass. “I’ll get you some water. That’s what you should be drinking.” In the saloon, she placed the glass on the bar. “Can I have some water for him, Dutch? I should run next door and apologize to Dalton for not joining him for dinner.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not there anymore.”
“What? Where is he?”
Dutch filled a glass with water from an earthen jug. “He heard what happened to Otis and he got up, got dressed, and said he was back on the job. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay.” She slammed the flat of her hand on the smooth bar. “He’s not well enough for that.”
Dutch’s smile was part sympathetic and part cajoling. “It’s his decision to make. Like I told you, he would have gone back to the jail earlier, but he decided to wait and have dinner with you.” He gave a shrug of his wide shoulders. “His wound will heal the same if he’s lying down or standing up.”
She huffed out a sigh, grabbed the glass of water, and stomped back to the small room where her uncle was struggling to sit up. “Oh, no you don’t,” she scolded, easing him back onto the cot. “Don’t you give me trouble, too.”
He released his breath in a grunt as he peered up at her through eyes that were nearly swollen shut. “Who else is troubling you?”
“Dalton. He’s gone back to work. After being shot!” Slipping a hand behind his head, she helped him rise up enough to take a few swallows of water. “There you go. Why are men so stubborn, Uncle Otis?”
“Hon, stubbornness infects women folk, too.” He gave her a half-smile. “You ought to know that, seeing as how you’re infected.”
“Oh, hush.” Her smile took the sting from her words.
Chapter 12
Otis drifted off to sleep after another half hour. Lacy stretched her arms over her head and unkinked her spine. She spotted Bobbie Sue and moved quietly out of the small room to talk with her.
“He’s sleeping now.” She rested her hand on her forehead where worrisome thoughts plagued her. “Guess you heard about Dalton.”
Bobbie Sue glanced up in a heavenly appeal. “Yes, I did. I saw him leaving and I tried to discourage him, but he paid me no mind.”
“Yes, he’s good at that.” Now that Bobbie Sue was on hand to see to her uncle, Lacy was anxious to talk with Dalton. She feared that he might be making plans to head to the Pullman ranch come sunup and she hoped she could talk him into waiting until he could enlist some other men to go with him. This shouldn’t be his problem to solve alone. She touched Bobbie Sue’s sleeve. “Keep an eye on Uncle Otis. I’ll check in later.”
“He’ll be fine, Lacy. You go on now.”
She went out the back door and into the hotel. Being the night before Thanksgiving, most of the guests were out visiting relatives and friends they’d traveled to Far Creek to see. She wanted to run to the jail, but she made sure no one needed her at the hotel first and asked Appolonia to prepare a dinner basket for Dalton.
“I stood him up,” she told the cook with a shrug. “When they brought Uncle Otis in, I completely forgot about anything else. I’m sorry we didn’t share the meal you made for us.”
“Don’t you worry none about that.” Appolonia placed a checkered napkin in a large basket and filled it with biscuits, thick slices of baked ham, a big jar of navy beans, and half of an apple pie. “I betcha he’s hungry, though. You tell him that I’m praying for him, Miss Lacy. Praying that he’ll heal up real fast.”
“I’ll tell him, Appolonia. Thank you. This looks delicious.”
“There’s plenty for you, too. Don’t figure you ate any supper either.”
“You’re right. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled those beans and that ham.” She hefted the basket. “I’ll get out of your way. I can see that you’re already preparing some of the Thanksgiving feast.”
“I am, but you’re not in my way. I got plenty of time to get the turkey and dressing cooked.”
Lacy left her to it, thinking that this was a Thanksgiving she’d always remember, but not sure yet if she’d recall it fondly or not. She wanted to run to the jail, but made herself walk sedately, the heavy basket hanging in the crook of her arm. She stepped inside the jail, ready to insist that Dalton have supper with her and forget any crazy notion of riding to the Pullman Ranch all alone.
Dalton wasn’t behind the desk. She set the basket down on it and went to the jail cell area, finding it also empty. Blast his hide! Anxiety and anger burst within her as she marched out the back door, heading for the stables. If Soldier wasn’t there, then that meant she’d have to saddle Cry Baby and go after him with the hope of heading him off.
In the shadowy interior of the stables, she stopped when she sensed movement ahead of her. Blinking, her eyes adjusted, and relief eased the tension in her shoulders and spine when she saw Dalton standing in front of Soldier’s stall. He fed the horse a carrot as he sent her a sidelong glance.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She leaned against the doorframe, so glad to see him that she fought the urge to run to him and kiss him. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“I’m supposed to be having dinner in your bedroom.”
“Yes, well . . .”
“How’s Deputy Gentry?”
“He’s being looked after by Bobbie Sue. He’s bruised and his nose is broken, but it’s not the first time that’s happened.”
“I don’t suppose he told you who beat him.”
“Not yet. He mumbled something about it being hard for him to recall. He doesn’t want to cause any more trouble.” She straightened and walked a few steps closer, watching him stroke Soldier’s neck.
“No more carrots, son,” he whispered to the horse. “You’ve had enough for tonight.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Dalton. I was so afraid that you would have already left for the Pullman Ranch and I’d have to go chasing after you.”
His gaze sharpened when it met hers. “Get that out of your head right now, Lacy. If I go to the Pullman Ranch, you will not follow me. This is my job. Mine. You have no business at the Pullman Ranch.”
She stepped back, stunned by his gruff tone, but it only reinforced her thinking that she should loosen her hold on the reins where he was concerned. Everyone kept telling her that he was good at his job and not to worry. Although she couldn’t stop herself from worrying about him, she could develop more confidence in him. “I was simply going to suggest that you recruit some other men to go with you to the ranch. This is Far Creek’s fight, too. Not just yours.” She rested a hand on his sleeve. “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Can you put all of this aside until after the holiday, please?”
Soldier chose that moment to toss his head, connecting his long nose with the underside of Dalton’s chin.
“Owww! Watch it, you ornery cayuse you.” He rubbed his jaw and moved back from the stall. “Guess I’m ruining Thanksgiving for everyone.”
“Not yet,” she quipped, getting a sidelong glance from him. “There’s still time if you want to try to get yourself killed again.”
&nb
sp; He dipped his head and chuckled. When he looked up, pinpoints of light danced in his dark eyes. “You’re full of sass tonight, Lacy Tyrell.”
“Just tonight?” She pivoted about on the ball of one foot. “I’ve had a long day, Dalton Moon, and I’m starving. Come inside. Let’s eat.”
In the front office, she unpacked the basket and spread the items on his desk. Dalton strolled in, saw the feast, and faltered a step.
“You brought this for me?”
“And for me. I didn’t have supper either.” She motioned to the chair behind the desk. “Have a seat.” She crossed the room to the shelf above the wood-burning stove and selected two chipped cups from the mismatched dishes there. “Is water okay?”
“Fine with me. The water bucket is right . . . oh, I forgot that you know your way around here.”
She nodded, already dipping water into the cups from a bucket that sat just inside the jail room. “I’ve brought Uncle Otis meals here too many times to count. Sometimes I’ve even brought food for someone he’d locked up for being a mean drunk or for some other tomfoolery.” She sat in one of the chairs near him.
“Looks awful good,” he noted.
“I do believe I’d eat shoe leather if it were seasoned.” She laughed a little when he chuckled at her joke. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Favorite?” He glanced up for few seconds before answering, “Whatever is before me. I’m not picky. What’s yours?”
“Ice cream. Have you ever had it?”
“Sure. My mama used to make it. Especially in the winter. She’d make snow cream.”
“Mmm-mmm.” She smacked her lips, tasting the memory of the cool creaminess of it on her tongue. “Last time I had ice cream was when I went with Bobbie Sue to her sister’s wedding in Topeka. They served everyone ice cream after the ceremony. Peach!”
“Huh. I’ve never had peach ice cream.”
“Oh, it’s heavenly.” She fell silent, needing to fill her stomach more than she needed to make conversation. Dalton seemed in the same frame of mind. They exchanged smiles and glances, but few words as they made the food disappear. Lacy had her fill first and she sat back and watched Dalton finish up the ham and beans. She thanked the stars above that he wasn’t mortally injured. He did seem to be doing well. The bruises on his face from when he’d tracked down Louder were almost completely gone. She hadn’t seen him act as if he were uncomfortable. Dutch was right. He was made of tough stuff.
“What made you decide not to ride to the Pullman Ranch tonight? I know you must have wanted to.”
“When I got here two railroad agents were waiting to talk to me. I filled them in on what had happened and they convinced me that I should wait and accompany them to Pullman’s place when they go there for a Leaguers meeting.”
“Yes, there are posters about that around town. They’re going?”
“Pullman sent them an invitation. I don’t know exactly what he’s got up his sleeve, but I reckon he wants to show them that he’s not alone in his opposition and that he and the Leaguers are brewing for a fight.”
“And the railroad men want you to go with them as protection?”
“As a witness to what’s said and to address any threats that might be hurled at them. It’ll give me a chance to see who is in the League, too.”
“Have you dealt with Leaguers before?”
“Yes. Wherever the railroad is going in, Leaguers sprout up to cause a ruckus. They think they can stop progress.” He shook his head. “The nation needs tracks laid. It’ll stitch us back together again and make it easier for the south to trade with the north and vice versa.”
She traced the pattern in the wood desk top. “Dalton, I’ve been thinking about you. And about me.”
He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. “I like the sound of that.”
She wrinkled her nose playfully at him. “When I saw you ride into town all bloody and nearly falling out of your saddle, I was terrified that you were dying. Another inch and . . . well.” She pressed her lips together, refusing to talk more about that. “In the weeks we’ve known each other, I’ve turned a deaf ear to everyone telling me that you know what you’re doing and not to worry.” She noted his interested expression. “I know you can handle yourself. After all, you fought in the war! You’ve been on your own, making your own way for years, so it’s unreasonable of me to assume that you don’t recognize a formidable enemy when you see one. We both know that Pullman had some of his men beat Uncle Otis, so I understand how you’d want to ride out there and arrest Junior, but you can’t. Yet.”
“I don’t imagine that Otis will lay the blame on Pullman, even though he knows who walloped him.”
“He’ll never say,” she agreed. “I don’t understand why.”
“He’s afraid of Pullman.”
She swallowed the hot words that sprang to her tongue. He was right, although she couldn’t admit it aloud.
“Lacy, there’s nothing wrong with a healthy bit of fear where it’s warranted,” he said, his tone gently understanding. “He’s got good reason to tread lightly around Pullman. But once you show a man like Pullman that he’s got you by the short hairs, then you’re at a grave disadvantage. That’s how things got out of hand around here. Pullman knows that Otis isn’t going to buck him, so he’s free to run this town as he wants. He’s got his thumb on nearly every merchant because they have no choice. Pullman is the law. You don’t go along with what he wants, he’ll shoot out your windows or burn your building or just stop everyone from trading with you.”
She packed a few things into the wicker basket. “Do you think the Regulator Pullman hired shot you?”
“Custer?” He scoffed. “Not likely. When Custer shoots, he hits the target. I’d be dead. Besides, I have an understanding with Custer.”
“What kind of understanding?”
“That if he comes for me, it’ll be face to face.”
She rounded her shoulders in an involuntary reaction. “If not him, then one of Pullman’s men. You do think he was involved, don’t you?”
“Yes. No doubt about that.”
“Uncle Otis talked back to Junior. I was there and heard him. That’s what riled him. Junior Pullman flapped his gums about you and me and Uncle Otis—.”
“Wait.” He held up a hand. “What about you and me? What was he saying?”
She busied herself gathering the dishes again. “Oh, nothing really. Silly things about us courting each other.” She flinched when Dalton’s hand cuffed her wrist.
“What did he say, Lacy?” he asked in a tone that sent a shiver down her spine, but loosened her tongue.
“Something about being tangled in my petticoats over you.” She looked at his hand and the sweep of his thumb across her racing pulse. “And that you were sleeping in my bed.” The gentle brush of his thumb ceased and he released her. His eyes darkened, making her think of a starless sky. “In a way, it was true. He was trying to get a rise out of us. Uncle Otis spoke up for me and Junior did what he always does – threw out a threat.”
“I’d like to kill him.”
“Uncle Otis wouldn’t want—.”
“Not for threatening Otis but for what he said about you. Your name should never come out of that bastard’s mouth.”
Gratitude for his defense of her honor made her smile. “People are talking about us, Dalton. You know that.”
“They’re not saying that you’re sleeping with me. They aren’t saying that, Lacy.”
“No, but I’m sure they’re wondering.” She shrugged, trying to make less of it than she actually felt. “I’m used to being gossiped about. If I worried about what people were saying behind my back, I’d be as fidgety and nervous as a chatterbox at a Quaker prayer meeting.”
Sparkles found his eyes again and his lips twitched.
Impulsively, she slipped her hand over his on the desktop. “You’re right to wait and go with the railroad men to the League meeting. You’ll be able to see who attends. Some
of the men there won’t necessarily be against the railroad. Junior told John Tankersly to be there and I know that John and Amelia are hoping the railroad comes through or near here. I wouldn’t be surprised if other merchants are at the meeting simply to appease Junior.”
“So, it’s the ranchers who are really in league with Pullman.”
“Mostly, yes. A few townspeople don’t want anything to change and they’re throwing in with him.”
“People who don’t like change are in for a pile of disappointments.” He turned his hand so that his palm kissed hers. “Changes are spreading all across this land. We won’t even recognize it ten years from now.” He regarded her for a few moments before he asked, “Do you ever think about living somewhere else besides here?”
“Yes.”
His brows shot up. “You do?”
“Sure.” She bobbed her shoulders in a quick shrug. “I never meant to stay here as long as I have. I came to visit Uncle Otis and see the old home place. The next thing I knew I was working some at the hotel and then Dutch hired me to manage it. One month led to the next and the next.” She lifted a hand in a helpless gesture. “And here I am.” Glancing at him, she smiled. “Moss never grows under your boots, does it?”
“No, but like you, it was never my intention.”
“Wasn’t it?”
He placed his empty plate and utensils in the basket. “I was at loose ends after the war. I worked on my uncle’s ranch, but I didn’t want to do that forever.” His mouth twitched into a smile. “Being a cattle herder isn’t that interesting to me. I meandered into this marshal work. I haven’t found a town yet that I’d want to stay in for more than a few months.”
“Sounds like you’re not interested in putting down roots.”
“Might sound like that, but I would like to settle down somewhere. Has to be somewhere with plenty of opportunities, though. I’m thinking of the eastern seaboard or maybe one of the main railroad hubs. Eventually.”
“As a marshal?”
“Not necessarily. Being fast on the draw and easy on the eyes aren’t my only attributes.” He laced his fingers with hers. “I have a brain, too.”