Paul didn’t swing. “You told me there’d be no more men. Not without my blessing.”
Glynna was shocked at how deep her son’s fury went. She searched for her authority as his mother. “Paul, there’s no reason to think—”
“You’re a liar.”
“No, I’ve told you no lies.”
“I should’ve killed Flint for what he did to you. I should’ve killed my own pa. But I was too weak to do it.” Paul turned to Dare. “I’m not anymore. You stay away from my mother or I’ll kill you.”
Paul looked as serious as the tomb as he stormed out of the teepee.
Glynna exchanged a helpless look with Dare, then hurried after her son. At the teepee entrance she turned back to see Dare, still rubbing his chin, looking at her, his eyes blazing . . . though she wasn’t sure with what. Anger? Regret? A man’s interest in her?
She needed to learn how to live without a man. She had to do that if she wanted to do right by her son. But Dare’s eyes, burning with blue fire, seemed to want her to forget all she needed to do.
She turned away before she made another terrible mistake. She couldn’t trust her future to another man, no matter how appealing he was. She pushed herself on out of the teepee to find food and sleep and sense.
Dare barely noticed time passing, barely noticed the daylight from the nighttime. He ate when he could, slept when he collapsed, doctored the living, and laid out the dead.
The howl of the wind woke him. He was sleeping by a fire, outside, in the center of a circle of teepees. The sun peeked over the horizon and lit up a wall of red rock on the west side of the canyon until the world seemed to catch fire overhead.
He lay in the dark depths of the canyon and listened for the wail of grief or a moan of pain. He heard neither. Shoving himself to his knees, he realized the entire village was asleep. That hadn’t happened since he’d arrived.
The last patient had turned a corner in the night. Most likely no more would die. He tossed wood on the fire and stirred the embers to life. As the flames grew and crackled, he saw all his friends sleeping around the fire. Glynna—who’d avoided him like he was a rabid skunk since her reckless fool of a son had slugged him in the face—wasn’t here. He remembered that she’d gone to sleep in a teepee with Anemy. There were places to sleep in abundance because so many of the Kiowa hadn’t survived.
His relief at knowing the worst was over darkened, and the weight of his failure rested like stones on his shoulders. As if that avalanche the other day had buried him alive.
Could a more skilled doctor have saved more of these folks? Of course there was no other doctor. The choice was between him and nobody, but he still felt his lack every time he lost a patient. Driving both hands deep into his hair, he sat back on his heels and bowed his head.
Please, God, let it be over. Let it be true that no more of them die.
A drumbeat of hooves drew his attention, and he rose and stepped away from the fire to help his night vision and to make himself a harder target.
A rider raced for the camp. Luke and Vince vanished from their bedrolls so swiftly and silently that Dare barely knew they were ready for trouble. The crack of a cocking gun came from the direction Luke had gone.
“It’s Red Wolf.” Luke stepped back into the light, holstering his gun. “He made it.”
Dare wondered how long it would be until Luke started running a fever. Usually it took a week or two after a person was exposed to the measles. He realized he had no idea how long they’d been here. When they got back to the S Bar S, he’d ask Ruthy. She seemed like the type to keep track.
Vince came back to the fire when he heard Red Wolf’s name and sat down, rubbed his face, and let his shoulders sag with exhaustion.
Several teepee flaps opened. Dare saw Anemy step outside.
“Red Wolf!” She said her husband’s name with a cry of pleasure.
Red Wolf charged straight into the campsite and leaped off his horse to drag Anemy into his arms.
The reunion was so affectionate, Dare looked away, feeling as if he were intruding on a private moment.
As sick as Red Wolf had been, he should’ve been laid up for a week. Had he healed fast, or had they been here in the camp that long?
Luke strode over to his Kiowa friend, who released Anemy and turned, smiling. The two men shook hands firmly, and Luke clapped Red Wolf on the back.
They were dressed differently, but Luke, with his Italian heritage and deep tan, was nearly as dark as Red Wolf. They could have been brothers.
Their pleasure at seeing each other again helped Dare to let go of his sense of failure. After a few moments, Red Wolf slid his arm around Anemy and held her close as she spoke of what had happened while her husband was away. Red Wolf’s grief was there for all to see, even in the dim morning light. He pulled Anemy close, and she buried her face in his strong chest.
Glynna stuck her head out of the teepee Anemy had emerged from, drawing Red Wolf’s eyes. At first she watched the reunion in front of her, then turned away, as if it was too painful to see two people so much in love. Glynna’s gaze fell on Dare. Their eyes locked.
Had Glynna never been held with that kind of tenderness? Paul had spoken of his father with as much anger as Flint Greer. Dare wanted to go to her, tell her it could be like this between a man and a woman. Then he remembered Paul’s killing rage and the fist that had nearly knocked him on his backside. Being with Glynna would only hurt the boy, and that was the last thing Dare wanted.
Dare had to try to help the boy get rid of his anger before it destroyed him. But how? The kid was so angry, he couldn’t say a civil word to Dare. It wouldn’t be easy, and it had nothing to do with Dare’s interest in Glynna, but the young man needed to be saved from his own fury.
He fought down the urge to teach Glynna the kindness a man could show. Maybe someday when her children had healed.
The day was spent tending the ailing Kiowa, but most of them were on their feet now, the rash fading, the coughs easing, the fevers all but gone.
Red Wolf was much more fluent in English than Anemy, and the day went smoothly, with no new grief.
“The disease is no longer contagious,” Dare told Red Wolf.
Frowning, Red Wolf carefully repeated, “Con tay juss? What is this?”
“It means the red spots will no longer spread from those who are sick to those who are well. It means the rest of your people can come home now.”
With a satisfied nod, Red Wolf asked the other healthy man in the village to search for the rest of their tribe and tell them the good news.
As the man hopped on his horse and galloped away, Red Wolf turned to Luke. “Our people will return in time for the moonrise. Many of our tribe are not happy with the whites. They blame them for the red sickness that killed so many. It is best you leave. But I thank you, Luke. And you, medicine man.” Red Wolf solemnly nodded at Dare. “I know good and evil cannot be judged by the color of a man’s skin.”
“Will you be near my home for long?” Luke asked Red Wolf.
“Many years the herd goes no more south. The grass is deep. I believe this will be our winter hunting ground.”
“Then come to my home again, and bring Anemy. I’d like my wife to meet her.”
Red Wolf’s deeply weathered face brightened. “We will come. Your wife is a fine woman. I owe her my life, and Anemy has told me how you worked to save our people. You can remain on Kiowa land for yet another year.”
Luke laughed. “And you can stay on Stone land for another year, my friend.”
Red Wolf joined in the laughter, and Dare knew this was an old joke between them.
Red Wolf turned to Dare. “My people say you saved many.”
Dare thought of all he hadn’t saved and wanted to protest, but held his tongue. Next time he was needed, he wanted Red Wolf to know he would help. The Kiowa traded often with the whites, so they came in contact with them regularly. Unfortunately, diseases, strange and deadly to the Indian people, would come again.
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“I was glad I could help,” Dare told him. He then thought of Luke and the measles he was certain to catch. Turning his thoughts from the suffering of the Kiowa, and the image of Luke sharing in that suffering, Dare said, “Let’s head home.”
Riding away as the sun lowered in the sky, Glynna came up beside Dare. She looked toward him, and he saw surprise on her face. She hadn’t meant to ride so close to him. She reined her horse back to put space between them, but then Paul rode up to where Glynna had been, and the anger in his expression almost made Dare rest his hand on his six-shooter.
Dare had seen other young men with anger like this. He’d fought beside them in the war. The young ones, once they’d lived through a few brutal skirmishes, often grew a ruthless streak that would put an older man to shame.
Living with Flint Greer might count as a brutal skirmish.
Paul wasn’t riding armed, and it was hard to believe a kid like him would actually kill. Then again, he’d said it himself that he should have killed his ma’s no-good husbands when he’d had the chance.
“Paul,” Dare said, “I’m sorry I’ve upset you. But you can’t let this rage you’re carrying around eat at you.”
“You just keep your hands off my ma and I won’t be angry anymore,” Paul seethed.
“Is that true?”
Paul furrowed his brow. “I just said it, didn’t I?”
“I don’t mean to say you’re lying. I mean to say that I think the anger is something you’re carrying around with you all the time. You’ve focused it on me, but it’s always there, boiling and stewing. Why don’t you ride out hunting with Vince and me? It’ll help you realize there are more kinds of men than the two who’ve been so hard on your family. Most men will protect a woman and children. You know I’d never put my hands on any of you in anger, don’t you?”
Paul stared straight forward, but his jaw wasn’t quite as rigid as it had been. “I reckon hunting would be fun. I did some hunting back in Arkansas.”
“With Luke in the area raising beef, hunting isn’t as important, but I still like the taste of antelope now and then. You can ride out with us.”
“I’ll think about it.” A look of interest pushed aside Paul’s usual scowl. “But that doesn’t change nuthin’ about you staying away from my ma.” The scowl returned with a vengeance. Paul reined his horse aside and dropped back to ride next to Glynna as if he’d taken all of Dare’s company he could stand.
It was a better talk than any they’d had before. Dare had worked beside a lot of young men during the war, and maybe that experience would come in handy now.
Even with that bit of hope, Dare could feel the kid at his back. Dare sure hoped the young’un never took to carrying a weapon.
Chapter 6
Glynna Greer had a weapon of her own—aimed straight at the bellies of every man in Broken Wheel. Dare found out right along with the rest of the town why Glynna’s children didn’t want her to open a diner.
She couldn’t cook worth a hoot.
His foot hit the bottom step on his way up to the board sidewalk that led to the diner just as black smoke billowed out its front door, followed by a herd of cowboys running out, coughing, and covering their mouths.
The diner had only been open a few minutes.
Well away from the building, Tug Andrews, who owned the general store, yelled, “Let us know when the smoke clears, Mrs. Greer. We’ll wait.”
Glynna stepped out of her restaurant, coughing, looking awful with her scabbed-up face. It had been two weeks since the avalanche, most of that time spent with the Kiowa tribe.
Looking at her now, Dare thought she probably should’ve waited another week. Although her face was so sooty, it covered most of the injuries, so it didn’t much matter.
Especially since, soot and scabs notwithstanding, with her golden hair and matching golden eyes, her customers all looked at her like she was the prettiest thing they’d ever seen.
Which she sure enough was.
“I let the potatoes boil dry. I’m so sorry,” Glynna said. She folded her hands at her waist and smiled at the men. With that smile alone she gave them all a meal to tempt the most persnickety appetite. Dare doubted whether all that soot came from just burning potatoes, but then he wouldn’t know. He’d never burned potatoes. He made a point of taking them off the stove before they began puffing out black smoke.
Her eyes went from the men to him, and her sweet, apologetic smile trembled a bit as if she fought tears. “I’m having trouble with the stove, I’m afraid. The top seems to have overheated.”
“Anyone could have trouble with a new stove, Mrs. Greer.” Duffy Schuster spoke from the waiting crowd. Duffy owned the only saloon in town and was a man with rough edges to spare. But right now he was acting like a Southern gentleman, at least when he wasn’t spitting tobacco.
Another said, “Don’t trouble yourself about it, Mrs. Greer. We’ll be glad to wait.”
“Could you all please call me Glynna?”
“We could never treat you with such disrespect, ma’am.”
Dare smoothed his mustache to cover a smile. He wasn’t sure who some of these men were. Most of them weren’t from around here. Did that mean men had come from a distance just to eat a meal? But looking at Glynna explained everything. She was a terrible mess and still she was pretty enough to make a man’s heart leap in his chest. All these men had shown up to get a look at her, and that inclined Dare less toward smiling.
“I don’t know how many of you knew my late husband, Flint, but I can’t abide having his name attached to mine.” There was the softness of an Arkansas accent in her voice and a quiver of regret. She glanced over her shoulder. “My children have my first husband’s name, so I will go by that. Call me Mrs. S-Sevier.”
From the way she stumbled over her name, he knew she didn’t like that name, either. Two rattlesnake husbands. Mighty bad luck for such a sweet, pretty woman.
Paul stepped out from behind her, his blue eyes shining out of a blackened face. He took a second to glower at Dare, who was so used to that look it didn’t even bother him. Much.
“I got the tater pot out back, Ma. The smoke’s thinning. You can all come back in now and eat a meal.” He added under his breath, “Such as it is.”
The boy turned and went back inside. Through the open door, Dare saw Paul go to his sooty-faced little sister and mutter, “Ma running a diner is a poor excuse for an idea.”
Dare had noticed the children weren’t encouraging to their mother in her plans. It made him mad. The poor woman could use their support. Only now he wondered . . . they might have their reasons.
Glynna smiled at her adoring customers, waved her hand to beckon them forward. “Come on back in,” she said. “I hope you’ll enjoy what there is left of dinner.” She turned and went inside.
Dare was a bit slow to follow her, and he was nearly trampled in the stampede of men thundering past him.
He took one step toward the door just as someone clapped him on the back. On the side he hadn’t just had stitches cut out of, so that was good. He turned to see Vince on his way to eat, it would seem.
“She finally got it opened, huh?” Vince had helped out by providing most of the food she was cooking. He’d “found” flour and sugar and potatoes in his storage cellar. He should’ve hung on to the potatoes.
“Hold up!” They both turned and saw Luke riding into town. Their friend swung down and hitched his horse, then came up to meet them. “I need to talk some details about my property with Mrs. Greer.”
“Mrs. Sevier,” Dare said.
“What? Mrs. Sev Yay?” Luke tilted his head as if maybe his ears had failed him.
“She just told every man in town to call her Mrs. Sevier. Says she doesn’t want to go by Greer—her first husband’s name, the father of her children.”
“That’s gonna take some gettin’ used to.” Luke shook his head. “She wouldn’t take nuthin’ for the land and cattle. She abandoned it all. She says th
e land Greer stole is mine, free and clear.”
“Which is only right,” Vince, the lawyer, said as if he knew what he was talking about.
“The land, sure, and some of the cattle, but Greer stole land and cattle from other men, not just my pa. I have no claim on that. And Greer owned a stretch of land before he took to his thieving. That land belongs to Glynna. I’m not taking it.”
Luke held up a fistful of letters. “I’m writing to everyone I can find who lost their land to Greer, telling them it’s theirs for the taking. I figure these folks have a claim on a portion of the cattle raised on their land, too. I hope some of them come back. I found cash money stashed in Greer’s bedroom—I’ll starve before I take a penny of it.”
“He made at least some of it working your land,” Vince said.
“Don’t matter. I don’t want it.”
The three of them walked into the busy diner while Luke talked. They were lucky to find three seats at the end of one of four long tables.
“What stinks?” Luke pulled his hat off, his eyes wide.
Dare slugged him. “Shut up. Glynna had some trouble with the stove. Give her a chance.”
Paul came out of the kitchen carrying four plates. Each with a blackened . . . thing on it. Dare hoped he wasn’t trying to serve the burnt potatoes.
He wasn’t. It proved to be the roast.
The little girl named Janet poured coffee from a pot that was too heavy for her. The men helped as best they could. When Janet got to Dare, she’d lightened the pot enough that it wasn’t such a chore.
Dare smiled. “Thanks, Janny.”
The girl smiled back so shyly it put a little hitch in Dare’s heartbeat.
A choking sound from the other end of the table drew Dare’s attention as Sledge Murphy spit his coffee back into his cup. The twisted expression on the blacksmith’s face said more than words could about Glynna’s coffee.
Janet shook her head and whispered to Dare, “Ma probably shouldn’t’ve taken up a career as a cook.” She slipped back into the kitchen as if running to hide.
Scowling, Sledge turned toward the kitchen, drew in a breath to shout something just as Glynna came out, twisting her hands together in front of her, smiling. Her face washed, her golden skin was a match for her hair and tawny eyes. But she was still bruised, pretty yet fragile.
Fired Up Page 7
