by Kit Morgan
He must have, because she answered. “I’m sorry, I tend to worry nowadays. I can’t help it.”
“Worry about what?” He tried to open his other eye, but couldn’t.
“Ever since George died, I … oh, never mind, it’s not your problem.” She saw him peering at her one-eyed and smiled. “You’re in a bad way, Mr. Hunter, but help will be here any minute.”
He swallowed hard, still tasting bile in his mouth. “Well, if no one comes … least I’ll die in good company.”
Her jaw trembled and her hands shook. “Hush, don’t say such things.”
His eye closed. “I’ll try not to,” he said before unconsciousness took him.
Four
“He’s lucky you found him when you did, ma’am,” Doc Rawlings told Merry. He’d knocked on her door over an hour ago and patched up Mr. Hunter’s leg – thank heaven it was just a bad flesh wound, but much to her embarrassment, it still meant helping the doctor get the man’s trousers off. He also managed to get the man to answer a few questions, like “How many fingers am I holding up?” Mr. Hunter needed three tries.
She watched him examine Mr. Hunter once more. Doc was a handsome man despite his age, and sometimes she caught herself envying his wife Harper. He was capable, strong, of good character and morals. So unlike George …
“He’ll need to rest up, do nothing strenuous for at least a week.”
“A week?!” she said in surprise. “But … but …”
“Unless you really need him out of your house,” he added.
Merry gulped. Take care of a strange man for a week? What would people think of her?
“Two weeks would be better,” Doc added. “He’s hurt bad, ma’am. You’re lucky I was out at the Jones ranch checking on Hezekiah. Zadie Jones wanted to come – she knows some doctoring, I taught her myself, but she’s no physician.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, and thank you. But … I can’t pay you …”
“You don’t owe me a thing,” he cut in, pointing at the bed. “He does.”
“Oh yes, of course,” she said as Doc Rawlings began to pack up his bag.
“He’s not from around here, that’s for sure. I’ve never seen him before.”
“His name is Hunter,” she offered. “That’s all I know.”
“Yes, you told me when I got here, remember?”
“Oh yes, so I did,” she said weakly. A chill went up her spine – for heaven’s sake, why couldn’t she think straight? And if she couldn’t, what on Earth could she do for the man on the bed?
Doc stood. “I’ll ride out tomorrow and check on him.”
“But what am I do to with him?” she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
“Let him rest – he needs lots of it. You did a good job so far, and I think he’ll come through. I’m just hoping he hasn’t suffered any contusions. You remember what those are, don’t you?”
How could she forget? George suffered several major ones when he fell off the roof. “Yes,” she said, her head low. “I remember.”
“Don’t worry, Merry. This man isn’t near as bad off as George was. Just make sure he gets plenty of rest and doesn’t do anything strenuous for a while, okay? Now, I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe bring Harper with me if she’s free.”
Merry swallowed hard and cringed at the mention of his wife. At least Harper wasn’t a gossip. “Thank you.”
He tipped his hat, picked up his bag and left.
Merry watched him get into his buggy from the window. He’d be lucky to get home before full dark. Once he’d disappeared down the road, she turned back to the stranger. “Mr. Hunter?” No answer – he looked asleep. Well, best make herself something to eat. If she was going to have to keep an eye on him all night, not to mention sleep in the rocker, she’d need her strength.
Strength … good heavens, what was she going to feed him?! Merry looked at Mr. Hunter again. He had to be several inches over six feet, and he wasn’t skinny – how much food would it take to fill his belly? This was bad, very bad. Milking Mrs. Robbins and picking berries wasn’t going to cut it.
Cold dread touched her, forcing her into the rocking chair. She rocked back and forth a few times out of habit, but couldn’t shake it. Good Lord, if the man’s head injury and leg wound didn’t kill him, she might. What if the poor man starved while under her roof?
Merry left the house, grabbed a bucket off the porch and went to milk Mrs. Robbins. At least that would be something …
* * *
“And he was real tall!” Katie said gleefully. “But we got him on the horse and …”
“Whoa there, sweetie – come again?” Caleb White told his stepdaughter. “Where did this happen?”
“It’s all right,” Viola assured him. “Esmeralda got out again. The children chased her into the woods by the Brights’ place and found the poor man unconscious by a tree.”
Caleb stared at her a moment as his mind raced over the landscape around Widow Bright’s place. He was surprised Viola didn’t call her that – everyone else did. Maybe because Viola, once a widow herself, was sensitive about such things. “Go back to the part about him being hurt.”
“I sent Doc Rawlings over there. He came to check on Hezekiah, but then the children showed up and told us about the situation before he left.”
“That’s good,” Caleb said. “Who is he?”
“No idea.”
“His name’s Mr. Hunter,” Wylie volunteered. “He ain’t from around here.”
“Isn’t,” his mother corrected. She went to Hezekiah’s cradle and checked on her month-old son. “Stay asleep now.”
“At least he’s not crying anymore,” Caleb said. “I’m sorry we couldn’t leave as planned.”
Viola smiled at him as she turned around. “At least we’ll get to spend Christmas with the Joneses.”
“Yes, but I was hoping to introduce you to the rest of the Joneses in Clear Creek. Now when we go, there won’t be as much time to visit. Everything will be rushed.” He sat on the sofa to pull off his boots.
She joined him on the sofa. “That’s all right. I know you want to spend time in Clear Creek before moving to California, but it will all work out.”
“I know, it’s just … they’re like family, you know?”
She brushed a stray lock of hair off her husband’s forehead. “You’re my family.”
“Yes, but don’t you want to expand it beyond just us?”
“You like lots of noise and chaos, I take it?”
He grinned. “Don’t you?”
“I have Katie and Wylie for that.”
“They’ll fit right in at the big ranch in Oregon. There’s plenty of folks around.”
She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m worried about Merry Bright. What if the man is injured so badly he can’t be moved?”
“Hmmm … good point. I suppose we can take a ride out there tomorrow and check on her.”
“Can I go?” Katie asked hopefully. “I want to make sure Mr. Hunter’s all right.”
“He had a red coat,” Wylie said. “I liked it. You should get one, Pa.”
Caleb smiled at his stepson. He’d met Viola on a train the year before while traveling with his employers Seth and Ryder Jones, the fathers of cousins Anson and Jess who ran the Jones Ranch in Morgan’s Crossing. Caleb was coming to be ranch foreman, met Viola and eventually asked her to be his wife. Now he had a family of his own. And all because Wylie and Katie got into a fight over a toy on the train. If not for that, he might not have spoken to her. “Red, eh? Now what would I do with a fancy red coat?”
“It wasn’t fancy,” Wylie said. “Just real nice.”
“Is that so?” Caleb said, then suddenly sobered. “You two didn’t happen to bring Esmeralda back, did you?”
Wylie and Katie exchanged a look. “Uh, sorry, Pa,” Wylie said. “But no.”
Caleb and his wife glanced at one another.
“Guess Katie and I will have to g
o with you tomorrow, huh?” Wylie continued. “Someone’s gotta catch Esmeralda and bring her home.”
“What I want to know,” Viola said, “is why she goes to Widow Bright’s in the first place.”
“She likes her garden,” Katie said. “She ate it all up!”
Caleb and Viola’s eyes went wide. “She what?” Viola said in shock and turned to her husband. “Oh, Caleb! That’s terrible if it’s true.”
“It is true!” Katie said in protest. “We wouldn’t lie!”
“No, of course you wouldn’t,” her mother consoled her. “Oh dear …”
“Are you sure?” Caleb asked the children, eyebrows raised.
“We’re sure,” Wylie said. “We’ve tracked her to the Widow Bright’s place before.”
Caleb straightened. “Tracked?”
“Yessir.”
“Well, that’s the sort of thing I like to hear,” Caleb said proudly.
Viola arched an eyebrow at him. “Caleb, she ate poor Merry’s garden.”
“Yes, but Wylie here tracked Esmeralda there! Isn’t that something?”
Viola rolled her eyes. “If our pig ate that poor woman’s food supply …”
“Not to worry, sweetheart, we’ll take care of it. We have food to spare and so do the others.”
“Should I ask Uncle Anson and Aunt Zadie for some food to take to Widow Bright?” Katie asked.
“Your mother and I will talk with them,” her father said. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure she doesn’t starve.”
“Because of Esmeralda,” Viola added, shaking her head again. “And she’s still there?” she asked the children.
They nodded enthusiastically.
Viola pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “I do hope poor Merry doesn’t mind us all showing up on her doorstep tomorrow.”
“I’m sure she won’t,” Caleb said. “Especially not if we come bearing gifts.”
“You mean compensation,” she corrected.
“You know what I mean.” Caleb kissed her.
“Mr. Hunter won’t mind, either,” Katie said happily. “He looks big enough to eat a horse!”
Caleb and Viola’s eyes widened. “We’d better inform Jess, Lillie, Jonas and Luella too,” Viola suggested. “Maybe they’d want to pitch in as well.”
“They would anyway,” Caleb said.
Viola sighed in relief. “Poor Merry. What she must be going through tonight.” She suddenly stood. “You don’t think she’s alone with him, do you?”
“I would imagine so. Unless Doc decided to spend the night, which seems unlikely.”
“But …”
“Honey, calm down. From what the children tell us, he’s in no shape to cause trouble.”
“Well, if you’re sure …”
“I’m sure. The only thing the Widow Bright has to worry about is feeding him, and we’ll help with that. It’s the least we can do, considering …”
“Don’t remind me!”
“Esmeralda?” Katie said sadly. “You aren’t gonna … kill Esmeralda for eating Widow Bright’s garden, are you?”
“No, sweetheart,” Viola assured her, then glanced at her husband.
Caleb considered the matter. “Let’s just hope Esmeralda makes it through tonight,” he said quietly.
Viola blinked. She hadn’t thought of that. Poor Merry Bright had had a hard time since her husband died last year, but wasn’t one to take charity, so she’d been trying to survive on her own. Maybe now, under the circumstances, she’d accept some help from her neighbors – or at least help herself to her neighbor’s thieving pig. Would serve Esmeralda right, the pest, but Wylie and Katie would be heartbroken. “I think we should talk to the others now,” she suggested.
Caleb took in her worried expression and nodded. “I think you’re right.”
“Can we go then?” Katie asked, jumping up and down.
“Yes, you may go with us tomorrow,” Viola said. “But we’ll explain to everyone else about the stranger, okay?”
Wylie and Katie both whined in disappointment. “But I wanna tell them about the gunshot wound!” Katie added.
Caleb and Viola exchanged a quick glance. “Oh, all right,” Viola said reluctantly, and Wylie and Katie were off like a shot.
“You know,” Caleb said. “We’re going to have to watch that one.”
“Oh, she’s a lot of talk,” Viola said.
“Really? I recall that spider she brought into the house last Christmas …”
Viola suddenly sobered. “You’re right. We’ll have to watch her like a hawk.”
Five
Merry stretched, shoved her hair out of her eyes and gingerly got out of the rocker. She was stiff, sore and hungry. Thankfully, she could walk the stiffness out on her way to the barn to feed Mrs. Robbins. As to being hungry, well, she hoped Mrs. Robbins was in a good mood and needed to be milked. She did it twice yesterday, not that she needed to. Mr. Hunter, once asleep, had stayed that way.
She chanced a peek at him on her bed, softly snoring, then moved closer just to make sure he was all right. “Poor man.” He looked as hungry as she felt – his skin was stretched over his cheekbones, and she wondered when he’d eaten last. He certainly hadn’t since she’d found him. “Better get used to that,” she grumbled.
She headed for the door, put on her shawl, went onto the porch and uncovered the pail of milk she’d managed to get last night. Thankfully the nights were chilly, so there was no chance of it spoiling. She could use the cream for the butter she planned to sell – providing she and her patient didn’t devour it first. She went to the barn, discovered Mrs. Robbins could wait a spell and tossed some hay to Mr. Hunter’s magnificent horse before going back inside.
Once there, Merry sprinkled some sugar on the bowl of leftover chokecherries, so at least Mr. Hunter could have a little something solid today. She’d have to figure out lunch later – for now, she’d tell him Doc Rawlings said to be careful of his stomach. Besides, after the way the poor man retched yesterday, berries and milk was probably all he could handle.
Mr. Hunter still wasn’t stirring, so she tidied up the cabin, brushed out her hair and put it up, then picked up her mending. Her regular chores calmed her. It was just another day, except for having a man in her bed. And who knew what fate would bring …
A knock sounded at the door.
“Visitors!” She jumped out of her chair, glanced at Mr. Hunter, then quickly looked around the cabin for a place to hide him before catching herself. She was being such a silly goose – it was probably just Doc Rawlings. With a sigh of relief, she opened the door.
It wasn’t Doc Rawlings. “Hello!” Wylie said, Katie at his side. “We’ve come to see Mr. Hunter.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, children.” She tiptoed onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “But I’m afraid he’s asleep.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Wylie said. “I wanted to show him my slingshot.”
“And my spider!” Katie said.
Merry’s eyes popped. “Spider?”
“Yeah, see?” Katie opened a chubby fist to reveal the biggest, ugliest spider Merry had ever seen.
Merry backed against the door. “Oh!”
Wylie backed away. “Ewwww! Get rid of it!”
“No, he’s mine!” Katie whined.
“Children, please …” Then Merry noticed the wagon coming up the drive. “Oh my.”
Katie dropped her pet into her apron pocket. “That’s Ma and Pa.”
Merry winced, shuddering as Mr. and Mrs. White pulled up in front of her house. She gave a little wave while glancing at Katie’s pocket.
“Morning!” Mr. White called. “I see Wylie and Katie made it here all right.” He hopped down, then went to help his wife.
“We let them off on the other side of your woods,” Mrs. White said as soon as her feet touched the ground. “They cut through and beat us here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Merry said unconvincingly. T
he Whites’ wagon was large and sturdy, unlike the shabby conveyance she owned. Not that it did her any good – she’d been forced to sell the horse in September. If she needed anything, she walked to town and bought it … until there was no money left.
“We heard about Esmeralda,” Mrs. White said apologetically. “We’re terribly sorry.”
“Yes – I just found out she was the culprit myself.” Merry wanted to get angry about the animal eating her remaining winter food supply, but was just too tired.
“We feel the need to make things up to you, Mrs. Bright,” her husband added.
“It’s the least we can do,” put in his wife. “We feel just awful!”
Merry glanced at what was left of her garden, where the guilty party had magically reappeared. She didn’t see the beast when she’d gone to the barn earlier. “Well, there she is now.” She couldn’t help sounding a little put out.
“Yes, and we feel it’s only right that we …” Mrs. White looked at her husband.
But Katie spoke before he could. “We brought you a bunch of food because Esmeralda’s a bad pig!”
Merry put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing – or crying. Just the thought of food made her feel strange, and the part of her that despised handouts was too hungry to object. “Excuse me?”
Mr. White went to the wagon and pulled out a crate of vegetables. “Where shall I put these?”
“Oh my goodness,” Merry said, a hand to her chest. “You, you didn’t have to …”
“Yes, we did,” Mrs. White said firmly, then quickly looked at her daughter, whose prisoner was escaping her pocket. “Katie? Watch your bug.”
Katie followed her mother’s gaze, then glanced at her pocket just as her prize crawled down her apron. “Oh no!” But the child deftly scooped the escapee into her hand and deposited him back into his cell.
“Wylie,” his father called. “Help me unload the wagon.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you put it all away,” Mrs. White assured Merry, then looked at the door. “How is the patient?”
Naturally the Whites knew about Mr. Hunter – the children would have told them, and they told the doctor. “Sleeping. Doc Rawlings said he should stay in bed all week and next to rest.”
