by Kit Morgan
Jasper glanced away, then glared at Walker. “This is your fault!”
“Mine? All I did was bring you in here to see what could be done about that cough of yours.”
“Yeah, well, now look what ya did! I’m probably dyin’!”
“Not yet, but if you don’t take care of yourself, that’s a distinct possibility,” Doc Deane said. “You belong in bed. The sooner the better.”
“But I can’t! I gotta work, Doc,” Jasper lamented.
“You heard the doc,” Walker said, his voice stern.
“But I could lose my job!” Jasper wailed.
“I’ll speak to Mayor Hardt,” Walker said. “He can’t fire you for being sick.”
“The heck he can’t! I’ve seen it done before,” Jasper said with conviction. “I’m as good as dead.”
“Stop thinking like that,” Walker told him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Bold words, as there was nothing he could do if the old man’s ailment turned into consumption or pneumonia. All Walker had in his pocket for that was prayer, plain and simple. “How much do we owe you, Doc?”
Doc Deane scratched his head. “Let me get Jasper some laudanum first. It’ll help with that cough. Then he needs to be kept warm and have plenty of bed rest.”
“Don’t worry,” Walker said and sent a dagger of a glare at Jasper. “He will.”
Jasper opened his mouth to protest and coughed instead.
Walker followed Doc Deane to a cabinet against the wall and watched him measure out some laudanum from a big bottle into a smaller one. “If he gets worse?” he whispered.
“Bring him here right away. But I have to be honest, worse would be bad. Very bad.”
Walker nodded as his eyes darted to Jasper, who was still coughing. “I’ll take care of him.”
Doc Deane smiled. “You’re a kind man, Mr. Brooks,” he said in a low voice. “Everyone in town knows how you look after Jasper.”
Walker twisted his hat in his hands and gave him a single nod. He wasn’t sure why he’d become so attached to the old coot. Jasper was dirty, smelly, and argued vehemently every time Walker urged him to take a bath. He wasn’t good with money either, spending most of his pay in the brothels. At least he took some baths there.
Then again, Jasper was the closet thing to “family” Walker had. His mother and gunslinger father were both dead, he had no brothers or sisters, and no living relatives that he knew of. In short, Walker was lonely, and Jasper was all he had.
“Here, make sure he takes a dose twice a day,” Doc Deane instructed. “But don’t let him have anymore than that.”
“I’ll see to it,” Walker said and turned to Jasper. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Jasper pushed himself out of the chair he was in and got shakily to his feet. “Didn’t even get to finish my soup!”
No sooner had he said it than Cara, the doc’s wife, entered the room. “There’s a woman here with something for Jasper and Mr. Brooks.”
Doc Deane and Walker exchanged a quick look then turned to Jasper.
“Don’t look at me!”
Walker peeked past the doctor’s red-headed wife and spied the pretty woman who’d been speaking with Reverend Hammond outside of Nacho’s. He smiled. “Hello.”
She came down the short hall and into the room. “Hello.” Her eyes flicked over each other them. “Reverend Hammond sent this.”
Walker took one look at the small, covered pitcher in her hands. “Look, Jasper, your lunch is here. Reverend Hammond was true to his word.”
“Of course he was,” Doc Deane said. “He always is.” He eyed the pitcher. “What’s in it?”
“My lunch!” Jasper rasped then coughed.
“Hot soup,” Walker explained and took the pitcher from their angel of mercy. Jasper needed it, and Walker had an excuse to find out her name. “Walker Brooks and Jasper. We’re much obliged, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome. I offered to bring it over for Reverend Hammond. He was called away quite suddenly.”
“Nothing wrong, I hope,” Doc’s wife commented.
“Not that I know of. Some sort of dispute at the miners’ camp,” she explained.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Walker said. “Whoever came to fetch Reverend Hammond say who was involved, Miss …?”
“Dolittle,” she said with a smile. “Daphne Dolittle. And no. The man simply said, ‘Sorry Reverend, but they’re at it again.’”
Jasper rolled his eyes. “Dang fools. Don’t know when to quit.”
“Not Cletus and his brother again?” Doc said.
“Yep, I’m afraid so,” Walker said with a nod. “Those two idiots are going to get themselves killed one of these days.”
“Who are they, if you don’t mind my asking?” Miss Dolittle said.
“They’re brothers,” Mrs. Deane said. “They’ve been patched up in here more times than we can count.”
Miss Dolittle looked confused. Walker gave her a smile. “They can’t agree on anything and so, end up in a fist fight more often than not.”
“Yep. Cletus and Hiram are nothing but a couple of stubborn mules!” Jasper said with his usual cough.
Why don’t you eat what this woman was so kind to bring?” Cara suggested. “Come out to the kitchen with me.”
“Much obliged, Mrs. Deane,” Jasper said and took the pitcher from Walker. “There’s enough here for you too, Sonny boy.”
Walker couldn’t help but smile. “Pour some in a bowl for me. I’ll be right there.” He waited for Jasper to follow Mrs. Deane to the kitchen then gave his full attention to Miss Dolittle. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome. Is he … going to be all right?”
“If he gets enough bed rest,” Doc Deane said.
“He sounded terrible earlier,” she commented. “Is it catching?”
“I don’t think so,” the doc said. “But one never knows.”
She put a hand to her chest. Walker noticed how delicately built she was. What was she thinking coming alone to Noelle, even if it was to invest in the mine? A man could carry her off easily, and around here with so many new men coming into town … what if one of them mistook her for a soiled dove? After enough whiskey a man wouldn’t know the difference, nor would he care.
His eyes roamed over her tiny frame. “You in town long, Miss Dolittle?”
She smiled at him. “That depends.”
“On what?”
Her smile broadened. “On several things. Would you care to hear them?”
His brows rose in curiosity and he shrugged. “Can I finish my soup first?”
“Certainly.”
Doc Deane glanced between them. “Well, let’s all go to the kitchen, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” Miss Dolittle said as she studied Walker. He started to feel like a little bug under a magnifying glass. What could be going through that pretty head of hers? Whatever it was, he’d soon find out.
Chapter 6
If there was ever a better time to execute her plan, this was it. Daphne watched the old man, Jasper, devour his soup with relish. Mrs. Deane gave each of the men a thick slice of warm bread fresh from the oven, with a generous slather of butter. She sliced some more, put the bread on a plate and set it on the table. Daphne was tempted to take one for herself, but she’d had a bite with the reverend.
Mr. Brooks – Walker – she’d have to get used to calling him that, buttered another piece of bread and bit into it. He chewed and swallowed, then smiled at her. “How long did you say you were in town?”
“I didn’t say, actually. I implied,” she said. She watched the doctor and his wife at the stove pour themselves some coffee. Daphne leaned toward Walker and lowered her voice. “I need to speak with you in private, if I may?”
His brows shot up. “Oh? May I ask what about?”
Jasper slurped his soup but watched them with interest. Daphne wondered if Walker would bring the old man along. “I have a business proposition for you.”
>
He glanced at Jasper and back. “Really?”
“But I can’t speak about it here,” she added hastily. “Can we meet later?”
Walker’s eyes met hers and they stared at each other a moment. “All right,” he finally said. “Where?”
“The Golden Nugget in say, an hour?”
Walker nodded. “Fine.”
She nodded in return and smiled in relief. So far, so good. At least he was willing to listen. Once he did, all she had to do was talk him into it. But he was the most likely candidate, and she didn’t want to go through a lengthy process to see the job done and her plans executed. Besides, she liked what she saw in Walker Brooks. Like the way he looked out for his friend Jasper and didn’t rush into a fight. Not only that, he was easy on the eyes.
Daphne took the cup of coffee the doctor offered and sipped slowly as she listened to the couples tale of how they and eleven other brides and grooms were brought together by Reverend Hammond and a Mrs. Walters (now Kinnison) around Christmas time. She’d already heard a short version from Reverend Hammond over her late lunch, but to here Doc Deane and his wife, Cara tell their own story was very uplifting. It also sent a twinge of longing through Daphne. She quickly batted it down. Finding love wasn’t her plan. Leaving the country was.
But she wasn’t so bent on leaving that she couldn’t take the time to enjoy the Deanes’ company and conversation. They told Daphne, Walker and Jasper about Reverend Hammond’s matchmaking mix-ups and subsequent marriage to Felicity Partridge. From the looks on Walker and Jasper’s faces, they hadn’t heard the full tale. They laughed until Jasper fell into a coughing fit. After that, Walker excused them from the table and went to fetch their coats.
“I’d best be going too,” Daphne said. “I need to return Nacho and Josefina’s pitcher to them.”
“Let me wash it first,” Mrs. Deane said.
“Thank you, you’re most kind.”
“Call me Cara.” She smiled at Daphne. “I hope you decide to stay in Noelle.”
“That depends on my plans,” Daphne said. And she wasn’t kidding. She glanced at Walker and Jasper as they shrugged into their coats. They said their goodbyes and left. A moment later, Cara handed her the cleaned pitcher and she left too. Outside Walker and Jasper were waiting for her. “My, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” she said in surprise.
Walker smiled. “What kind of gentlemen would we be if we didn’t escort you home?”
Daphne felt herself blush and hoped he didn’t notice. She had no real interest in him other than fulfilling her plans. Why react to such a gesture? Besides, if he was any kind of gentleman, he should offer to escort her home. “Thank you, but don’t you need to get Mister … I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your last name,” she told Jasper.
“Don’t use one. Jasper’s good enough for me,” he said, looking at anything but her. Odd.
“Fine. Jasper it is. It’s just that I remember what the doctor said …”
“So did I, little missy,” Jasper said. “I don’t need no remindin’.”
She gave Walker a helpless look. In return he gave her a playful smirk, as if to say, that’s Jasper for you.
“Let’s go, Walker,” Jasper said. “My bones are achin’.”
Walker offered his arm to Daphne. “Ready, Miss Dolittle?”
She gave him a shy smile as a shiver went up her spine. Good grief! What was wrong with her? She wrapped her arm around his. Jasper took one look at them, rolled his eyes, and then fluttered them at Walker.
“Stop it,” Walker warned.
Daphne couldn’t help but smile at the two friends. They were an odd pair, but she could tell they cared for one another like family.
When they reached the Golden Nugget Walker escorted Daphne to the bottom of the stairs while Jasper waited for him outside. “I need to get him home and in bed. Then bring in some wood for the stove. After that, I’ll return here.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
He glanced around. “In the saloon? No. Don’t do that. It’s best I come fetch you. Which room is yours?”
“Number four. But coming to my room will look …”
“Pay it no mind. Folk go upstairs and knock on the reverend’s door all the time. Besides, I wasn’t planning on coming inside.”
She smiled at his concern for her reputation. She hoped he’d be smiling once she told him what she wanted. He’d either do that or think she’d gone round the bend. With her luck, probably the latter. “Fine, I’ll see you then.”
With a tip of his hat he was gone. Daphne hurried up the stairs to her room and once inside, took off her coat and threw it over a chair. “Well, Dolittle, if this works you’ll be on your way. If not, then the reverend might just run you out of town.”
* * *
Walker couldn’t imagine what the pretty Miss Dolittle wanted to discuss with him. That, in itself, made him suspicious. What did a well-to-do looking lady like Miss Dolittle want with the likes of him? He wasn’t anything special. On the contrary, he was trouble with a capital “T” and through no fault of his own. No, he owed his woes all to his father’s name. Maybe he should take the advice given him by countless men and change his name to something else. The fact his name was Walker, and his father’s Walter, should be enough reason. Folks got them mixed up, and on occasion, mistook him for his gun-slinging sire. Never mind the fact he was a good twenty years or more younger than his father, but that didn’t seem to matter. Nor that Pa was dead.
“What does she want?” Jasper rasped as Walker pulled off the old man’s boots.
“I don’t know.” He set the boots to one side then took the bottle of laudanum from his pocket. He filled a glass with water and poured a little in. “Here, drink this. It’ll help that cough of yours.”
Jasper drank without argument. That alone told Walker the old man wasn’t feeling well.
“I’ll bring in some wood. You rest.” It was an order, not a suggestion.
“Fine,” Jasper groused but Walker knew better. The poor old coot was plumb tuckered out.
“After I get the fire built up, I’m going to meet with Miss Dolittle and see what she wants. I’ll fetch something back for supper.”
Jasper crawled under the blankets of his cot. “You do that,” he said.
Walker could hear the weariness in his voice. Jasper could fake being well only so long before he ran out of steam, and out he was. He listened to the older man’s raspy breathing, tended the fire and then left the miners’ camp to see what business Miss Dolittle was peddling. Because in this town, what else could it be?
By the time Walker reached The Golden Nugget, the wind had kicked up. It was going to be another cold night, and he hoped and prayed it wasn’t too hard on Jasper.
He went inside, up the stairs and straight to room number four. The door was ajar and he could hear women’s voices coming from inside. Maybe Miss Dolittle was speaking with Mrs. Hammond. If so, did she want the reverend’s wife to know she had business with him? Walker shrugged and knocked lightly on the door. If she didn’t want anyone to know they were meeting, she’d have made sure she was alone when he arrived.
Miss Dolittle came to the door and opened it wide. “Mr. Walker. Right on time I see. Excellent.” She turned to the other woman. It wasn’t Felicity Hammond but Walker recognized her, having seen her around town now and then. She was married to the Wells Fargo agent sent to see if Noelle was fit enough for the bank to open a branch there. Everyone knew who Clint Jones was. The man had earned the name “Jester Jones” among the miners after assuming shady dealings going on in Noelle, then finding out there was nothing. The stories were hilarious, and Mr. Jones endured his fair share of ribbing from the men. But he took it all in good humor, and laughed along at his mistakes with everyone else.
“May I introduce Mrs. Jones?” Miss Dolittle said and motioned to the woman. Both were small and delicate looking. But where as Mrs. Jones looked, sounded, and gave every indication she was as fragile
as they come, Miss Dolittle had a steely glint in her eye that indicated not only determination, but grit. Walker found it attractive and scary at the same time. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Mrs. Jones, this is Mr. Walker Brooks.”
Mrs. Jones had beautiful violet eyes that lit up when she looked at him. “Yes, I’ve seen you before.”
He glanced between them. “You have?”
“At the talent show last month. You sang. You have a beautiful voice, Mr. Brooks.”
Heat flushed his cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You sing?” Miss Dolittle said with curiosity.
“Er … yes, I’ve been known to carry a tune.”
“Carry a tune?” Mrs. Jones said in astonishment. “Mr. Brooks, you’re good enough to perform professionally in my opinion. I’ve heard my share of good voices, sir, and you’re just as well voiced as any of them.”
Walker’s chest swelled. He could sing, and liked to. If his voice were a gun, he’d be his father. But instead of a trail of bodies his wake, he’d hoped to leave behind faces covered with a peaceful countenance. His voice, he’d been told, had a calming quality to it that soothed the soul. “Thank you for sharing such a high opinion of me, Mrs. Jones.”
“Clint and I both thought you were wonderful,” she said and then nodded at Miss Dolittle. “I’ll introduce you to Felicity just as soon as I’m able. She went to Cobb’s Penn for a few things. Perhaps when she returns?”
“That would be fine. I’m sure Mr. Walker and I will have conducted our business by then.”
Mrs. Jones smiled, looked at Walker and back, and said, “Good afternoon then.” She left the room, leaving the door wide open.
Walker stepped into the hall. “Shall we go downstairs?”
“Yes, of course.”
He watched her grab a shawl off the bed and wrap it around her shoulders. Now that they were getting down to business, he felt a chill race up his spine. What on earth could the woman want?
Downstairs they found a quiet table and sat. Seamus the bartender eyed them curiously for a moment before approaching their table. “Can I get ye anything?”
