The Turn of a Wheel (Kansas Crossroads Book 17)

by Amelia C. Adams

  ***

  Ruth had taken a wonderful nap, then gone downstairs to make dinner. Alex had been given his last dose of opium for the night, and the hotel was falling asleep. Mr. Brody had fetched his nightly cup of coffee from the kitchen to keep him awake while he oversaw the desk, and once again, the only sounds were that of the cicadas.

  Ruth sprinkled more flour on the pile of bread dough in front of her. Kate would be getting up early to pound it down and shape it into loaves, and Ruth wanted to be sure that it was ready for her. Goodness, they went through so much bread at the hotel. She sometimes felt that all she did was knead dough.

  As she worked, she allowed her mind to wander, and of course it wandered to Alex. It was hard to believe that such a short time ago, he’d annoyed her so very much. Now she knew every line and angle of his face, the way his dimple puckered up that one little section of his cheek, and the way his laugh sounded in every circumstance—whether he was feeling wry or genuinely amused. When she went to Kansas City, she would miss that laugh.

  She closed her eyes and relived that moment when he’d kissed her hand. He wouldn’t have done that unless he was feeling something for her . . . would he? Something more than friendship? She didn’t know all the rules when it came to relationships. She didn’t know what each thing meant, like deciphering a code. When he took her hand and squeezed it, that was just friendship, right? But kissing it . . . How frustrating not to know.

  She gave the bread dough a few extra thumps, put it in a bowl and covered it, then cleaned up the counter, trying to decide what she should do. Above all else, she was frustrated by the guessing, and it made her wonder why she should put herself through that, anyway. What would be wrong about simply asking him? She’d spoken to him about the situation with Mr. Runyon, and he’d handled it very well. Didn’t that demonstrate that she could bring up sensitive topics with him, and wouldn’t it be better to talk it out than to keep wondering?

  The very worst he could do was tell her that he wasn’t interested in her. She didn’t imagine that he’d say it unkindly—that wasn’t the sort of man he was. He would let her down as gently as he could, she would thank him for his honesty, and then she could go without any regrets. She’d know she was making the right choice by leaving, and she’d know that she’d done all she could.

  That was exactly what she’d do first thing the next morning. She wouldn’t put it off—she didn’t think she could wait, anyway. It was best to know these things and put her troubled mind to rest.

  After making sure the kitchen was ready for the next morning, she climbed the first flight of stairs and paused on the landing. The light was off in Alex’s room, so she wouldn’t disturb him. Instead, she turned to go up the second flight of stairs that would lead to her attic bedroom, but she felt an arm wrap around her from behind, and a hand clamp down over her mouth.

  There was a tiny bedroom just off the landing, one they only rented out to people traveling alone. She was shoved through the door into this room, her attacker right behind her to push her up against the wall and make sure her mouth stayed covered. A small lantern burned on the table, and she found herself staring into the red-rimmed and furious eyes of Laird Runyon.

  “Hello, Miss Barnes,” he said in a low voice, pressing so close, she could feel the texture of his jacket on her arm. “It’s so good to see you again. Are you happy to see me?”

  She didn’t make any effort to answer. His hand was so tight over her mouth, it would have been wasted.

  “It’s the strangest thing,” he went on. “When I was checking out of the hotel, I mentioned to the girl running the desk that I was happy to hear of your engagement. She acted as though she didn’t know anything about it. That troubled me, and I thought about it for the first hour of my journey. Why wouldn’t you tell your dearest friends in the whole world about your engagement? Unless you weren’t really engaged.”

  Ruth’s heart was pounding so hard, it made her chest ache, and she couldn’t pull in a deep breath through her nose. She was starting to get lightheaded.

  “I thought about that for the second hour of my journey. Why would Miss Barnes lie to me? I thought back on all the invitations you turned down, and I realized something very important.” He brought his face even closer. “I realized that you owe me.”

  His voice was so low, Ruth didn’t think even someone standing in the hallway could hear, and everyone would be in bed by now. If only she could breathe properly.

  “You see, I’ve been very kind to you. I’ve given you my attention and my time, and what have you given me in return? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just your disdain and your refusal to have anything to do with me. Well, I don’t think that’s right, and so I’ve come back to claim what should have been mine.”

  Ruth had heard words like these before. She’d heard them in the kitchen at the Lazy Q the night Higgins had found her there alone, the night Wade had arrived just in time. She remembered being told that she owed something to men, that it wasn’t right for her to be so pretty without expecting to pay some dues. She remembered Higgins’ fist slamming against her face so hard, she couldn’t see for a moment. She remembered every single thing that had happened until Wade had pulled Higgins away and punched him, then taken Ruth to safety. He’d brought her here, to the Brody, where she’d been protected ever since. Protected by men who respected women, protected by friends who flocked around her.

  Protected by herself—by her restored sense of self-worth.

  Mr. Runyon didn’t remove his hand from her mouth, but he did let go of her arm with his opposite hand so he could fumble with his belt buckle. That gave Ruth all the opportunity she needed to reach into the pocket of her dress and pull out the small pistol she carried there.

  When Mr. Runyon looked up and saw it, his eyes went wide, and he took a stumbling step backward. Ruth pulled in a breath as soon as his hand left her mouth, gasping for air.

  “Miss Barnes, where on earth did you get that little toy gun?” he asked, regaining his composure and now beginning to smirk. “It’s adorable that you think it’s any use against me. I’m not leaving until I get what I want.” He lunged forward, his movements quick and decisive, and so were Ruth’s. She pulled the trigger, and down he fell. That was the only thing she owed him.

  Without even checking to see if he was dead or alive, she ran out of the room, pulled the key from the inside of the lock, and locked the door from the outside. Then she headed down the staircase to be met by Mr. Brody, who was running up the stairs with his Colt in his hand.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, taking her by the arm. “I heard a shot.”

  “That’s because I fired one,” she said. “You may want to check on Mr. Runyon. I may have just killed him.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ruth sat at the dining room table, a shawl around her shoulders and a mug of coffee in her hands. Elizabeth sat next to her, arm around her shoulders, as Colonel Gordon asked for all the details of the case. Mr. Brody stood in the background, his face like thunder.

  “And then I pulled the trigger,” Ruth said, bringing her story to a close.

  “Where did you obtain the gun?” Colonel Gordon asked.

  “From Mr. Brody. He gives them to all his waitresses and instructs us in how to use them.”

  “And you carry it all the time?”

  “Not all the time, but a goodly amount of it. With the rough clientele we sometimes serve, he feels it’s best if we can defend ourselves.”

  “Quite right.” Colonel Gordon made a note. “Miss Barnes, I see no reason to charge you with any sort of crime. Mr. Brody has given a statement that Mr. Runyon was bothering you, and a few of your friends commented that you seemed upset by the man’s attentions. Mr. Barker has given his testimony that you confided your concerns in him as well. Given the bruises on your arms, it’s easy to see that you were treated roughly, and considering . . . well, considering that the man’s trousers were halfway down when we arrived, we can assume th
e nature of the attack. Therefore, this is self-defense, and the case is closed.”

  “Thank you,” Ruth said, nearly weak from relief. “You mentioned my friends—where are they?” She hadn’t seen anyone else in hours.

  “I sent them upstairs until everything was concluded. I’m sure they’ll pepper you with questions when they come down.”

  “And I have a few questions of my own, sir—Mr. Runyon. Did I kill him?”

  “Well, that remains to be seen. Dr. Wayment is upstairs working on him now, and I have a deputy posted at the door prepared for just about anything. Time will tell.” The colonel smiled. “You’re a brave young woman, Miss Barnes, and it would appear that the employee doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Ruth asked, confused.

  He nodded at Elizabeth. “You should tell her the story.”

  Elizabeth had a smile on her face. “I can’t remember if I ever told you about the man I shot in the barn. He had some similar ideas, and it was the pistol in the pocket of my dress that came in handy that day.” She turned and looked over her shoulder. “You were inspired to arm us, my love.”

  “It seemed like common sense, the right thing to do.” Mr. Brody cleared his throat. “Ruth, I apologize. When I spoke to Mr. Runyon, I should have thrown him out—I shouldn’t have merely told him you were busy.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Ruth told him. “I didn’t suspect anything like this at the time—I just thought he was being too persistent.”

  “Nonetheless, I could have spared you this.”

  “And nonetheless, you provided me with a gun and taught me how to use it.” Ruth stood and placed her hand on Mr. Brody’s arm. “You’ve been the kindest, truest man I’ve ever known. Please don’t feel guilty—I have so much to thank you for.”

  Mr. Brody didn’t answer, but instead, he pulled Ruth in for a gentle hug. She blinked several times to keep the tears from falling—in his embrace, she felt utterly safe.

  “Well now,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat. “We’d best get some waitresses down here or we won’t have anything to serve the morning train.”

  “I wish we could tell the morning train just to keep chugging by,” Elizabeth replied. “Surely we all could use another few hours of sleep.”

  “We could shut the dining room for the morning,” Mr. Brody suggested. “We don’t have to serve breakfast.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. “What’s this? My husband doesn’t want to open the dining room? Has the sky fallen? Is it the end of the world?”

  He chuckled. “I know, I know—I’ve never shut the dining room before, but some things are more important. And if Ruth’s not well and the other girls are upset, that clearly defines our priorities.”

  This time, Ruth’s tears wouldn’t be held back. “You’d do that for us?”

  “Of course I would. You’re family.”

  That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. “And what if I’ve decided I don’t want to move to Kansas City? What if I want to stay here with people who love me?”

  He grinned. “I’d say that’s the best news I’ve had . . . well, possibly forever.”

  Her heart was so full, she felt like it would burst. “Then you can consider it done. I don’t even know why I thought about leaving—this is where I’m wanted.”

  Elizabeth stood up and wrapped Ruth in a hug. “I can’t even tell you how glad I am that you’re staying. We need you just as much as you need us, and you can experiment and make fancy foods to your heart’s content. I’m sure we’ll all enjoy eating your samples.”

  “Thank you, Elizabeth.” Ruth returned her friend’s hug tightly, then stepped back. “One more question, Colonel?”

  “Yes, Miss Barnes?”

  “Just how did Mr. Runyon get into the hotel? Someone would have seen him and wondered why he’d come back, wouldn’t they?”

  “We don’t have any way of knowing until he’s awake and can be questioned, but my thought is that he likely slipped in with the train passengers. It’s always a bit of a hullabaloo when a new batch of people arrives, I’ve noticed.”

  Ruth nodded. “That makes sense. I just dislike the thought that someone can come in here undetected and try such awful things.”

  “As do I,” Mr. Brody said. “I’ve been thinking that it might be time to hire a security guard of sorts for the hotel.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Elizabeth said. “Let’s do it, Adam.”

  He nodded. “I’ll start making inquiries right away.”

  Ruth smiled, a sense of right building in her chest at the thought. The hotel was now large enough and busy enough that a security guard sounded like just the thing. “Now, I don’t know why we’re all standing around like statues—we have a train to feed,” she said, and the Brodys laughed.

  ***

  Alex just couldn’t take it anymore, not for a single minute longer. He’d been awakened by the marshal, who had a horrific story to tell of an attack on Ruth late the night before, and now he was expected to stay in bed and wait to hear if she was all right? No. He couldn’t do it. The woman he loved had been through something terrible, and he would not lie around and do nothing.

  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed the chair, hoisting himself to his feet. He’d done this a few times before when his bedding was being changed, but he’d always kept the majority of his weight on his good leg. This time, he slowly shifted his balance to his injured leg to see if it could handle any pressure.

  Pain shot up and down that side of his body like a lightning bolt, but he could bear it as long as he stayed focused. Keeping Ruth’s face before him in his thoughts, he slid the chair along the floor and hopped along behind it on his good leg, using his bad leg for counterbalance and lowering it from time to time as needed so he didn’t topple.

  When he reached the hallway, he realized for the first time just how far away the stairs were, and for that matter, he had no plan for getting down them once he reached them. This was an ill-conceived plot from the start, but he couldn’t go back now. One never achieved the glory of a grand adventure if one turned around and went back when things got complicated.

  He saw Deputy Monroe standing outside the first door at the head of the hall, and kept up his hopping and scooting until he reached the man’s side. “Any word?” he asked.

  “Not yet. Dr. Wayment’s still operating, as far as I know. Seems to me that he ought to let him die.” Monroe shook his head. “I’m sorry—that wasn’t fitting. I just keep thinking about my wife and my sister, and what I’d do if this had been one of them. They both worked here before they were married—either one of them could have attracted the attention of a man like this.”

  Alex nodded. There were no words to explain the feelings coursing through him, and he had to admit, if Mr. Runyon were to die, he wouldn’t feel much sorrow either. But he knew Ruth would, and that alone was enough for him to send up a silent prayer on the man’s behalf.

  Suddenly, the strength went out of his body, and he turned the chair so he could sit on it rather than continuing his awkward journey.

  “Where do you mean to go from here?” Monroe asked, a smile on his face.

  “My original thought was to find Ruth and kiss her senseless, but now it appears I’m the senseless one,” Alex replied. “I should have stayed in my cozy little bed as ordered.”

  “Yes, you should have.” Dr. Wayment had opened the door to room one and now looked down at him with disapproval. “Are you trying to hurt yourself?”

  “I was trying to do something grandly romantic, but I don’t think I succeeded.”

  “I would say not.” Dr. Wayment shook his head, but Alex could see that he was amused. “The patient will recover. I had some stitching to do in his chest cavity, but it went well. A few days of rest here, and then he can be transported to the jailhouse. I’ll be seeing to his care myself—I will not subject any of the young ladies of the hotel
to that experience.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Alex replied. That had been his next concern, but the doctor had already seen the need and taken care of it.

  “And as for you.” Dr. Wayment wagged his finger at Alex. “Let’s get you back in bed and pretend you never left it. If Ruth knew about your little excursion, she’d worry about you, and I think she has enough on her plate just now.”

  “Agreed.”

  Alex let the doctor help him back to bed, where he was neatly tucked up when the waitresses came downstairs for the morning train. For all they knew, he’d behaved himself that morning.

  ***

  Ruth had been aching to talk to Alex since early that day, but she’d wanted to push through with the breakfast service. She wanted to show herself that she could rise above her circumstances, that she was stronger than what had happened. As soon as the meal was over, though, she raced up the stairs, only pausing for a brief moment as she passed room one, then continued to Alex’s room.

  He was sitting up in bed when she walked in, and he didn’t say a word. He just opened his arms, and she all but fell into them.

  He held her close while she cried all the tears she’d kept bottled up during breakfast. All the tears she’d held back while Mr. Runyon whispered his awful thoughts to her. All the tears she’d refused to shed because of Higgins. She cried them all now, and Alex held her until she was done.

  Then she sat up and wiped her eyes, feeling ridiculous.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “I’m glad you did.” He reached over and grabbed a fresh handkerchief from the bedside table, handing it to her. “You’ve been carrying that around for a long time, haven’t you?”

  She nodded. “Yes, and it feels so good to let it out now. Did you hear that Mr. Runyon will live?”

  “I did hear that, and I’m glad for your sake.”

  “I never wanted to kill him—I just wanted to stop him. Men like that must be stopped—they can’t be allowed to think the way they think. Shooting them all isn’t the answer, though—it’s not practical, and it would take a lot of bullets.”