by Jodi Thomas
The creature grabbed back her stick and hurried a few steps away. “I’m Toledo, named for the town in Spain where I was born, and you, mister, are a dead man talking to me.”
Duncan tried to sit up but couldn’t. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, old woman.” He stared at the pile of rags, knowing that if the wound on his leg didn’t kill him in the next few hours, one of the outlaws would. If an old woman could find him, surely a lookout would. As soon as it was full light, he’d be an easy target. If he tried to move toward the border, he’d leave a wide trail of blood for anyone to follow.
“Folks don’t like rangers on this side of the border, and they have good reason. You Texas devils come down here and cause nothing but trouble. You’d better vanish or they’ll be using you for target practice in an hour.”
Duncan tried to focus. “I don’t much like being here,” he said, as he spotted her cart sparkling in the first rays of dawn. The old woman was a tinker; her wares of pots and pans and brooms hung from her cart much like her clothes hung from her body. “Any chance you could help me get to the river?”
“There are guards watching the river,” she answered. “I saw them last night when I passed. They had a wild-eyed horse staked out to catch you, but he got away.”
“She broke free. I knew she would.”
“Sí.” Toledo snorted. “And she unsaddled herself also. A very wise horse you have, Ranger.”
Duncan guessed his horse was halfway back to the ranch by now. He knew his only hope of staying alive now was to bargain with the woman. “I could pay you if you helped me.”
She laughed. “I could just sit here and wait until you die and then take all your money. I’m too old to go helping half-dead men who sleep where they do not belong.”
He swore. She was right, and from the way he felt, she wouldn’t have to wait long to collect his coins. He thought of pulling his gun and demanding her help, but she didn’t look like a woman who’d fall for that. Right now she could swing that stick and knock him out before he could clear leather with his Colt.
“Name your price for helping me,” he said, knowing he’d have little chance surviving the day, and if he did, he’d be too weak to make it to the river, much less swim across.
“I want your word that you’ll help me make a little money to tide me over the winter, but I’ ll not ask anything of you until you can walk.”
“You’re not asking me to do something illegal?”
She shook her head.
“How do you know I won’t walk out and forget your problem?” The lawyer part of him wanted to make both sides clear, even though he realized it might cost him his life. He doubted that he had enough life left to be of much help to her. The sun seemed to be fading even though he could still feel its warmth on his face. If he passed out now, in the open, he had a feeling he’d wake up dead.
The woman rattled on as if he were paying attention. “Because if I help you, I’ll be risking my life, and when you’re well, even if I ask you to do the same, you’re honor bound. I haven’t figured out what, but I bet I can make use of you.”
She stared at him and shifted her weight. Her skirts moved just enough for him to see the rifle at her side. “If you get away without making me a little money, I’ll find you and kill you along with every relative you have. Don’t doubt Toledo. I’ve done such a thing before and I’m more than capable of doing it again.”
Duncan didn’t see any choice in the matter. Either way he was probably counting his time left by hours. “All right. You have my word. If you can get me out of this mess, I’ll help you, but if we don’t do something fast the only way you’ll be helping me is to bury me.”
She poked him again with her stick. “Wake up,” she ordered. “Wake up.”
He rolled over, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. She helped him to his feet, and then with the stick as a crutch and the little woman holding him up on one side, they made it to the cart. While he held on to the little wagon, she pulled everything from the floor, shoved him in, and began dumping her goods on top of him.
As she worked, he looked up just as the wind caught the scarf covering one side of her face and lifted it long enough for him to see what she hid. Twisted scars rippled from her eye to her neck, reminding him of a dried-up riverbed still echoing the water’s flow. The left side of her face was deformed, but not unbearable to look at. He found it surprising one so old could still be so vain.
With no care, she dropped something heavy on his leg, sending fire shooting through his entire body. He fought down a scream, but the effort cost him. As layer after layer of fabric and boxes and tools rained down on him, Duncan’s mind slipped into muddy water until he heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing.
The old lady named Toledo was forgotten, as were the battles. In his mind he was home, lying in the cool grass, staring up at Whispering Mountain, waiting to die.
He had no idea how long he was out, but slowly his mind drifted from the peace of the dream through muddy waters where no thoughts made sense. Two people were carrying him. One had his shoulders, one his feet. From what seemed like miles away he could hear the old woman’s voice yelling for them to be careful and not kill him too soon.
A moment later they dropped him, and then, like panicked children, they picked him up and begin half carrying, half dragging him again. The old woman yelled for them to hurry before someone saw them. He slipped away, welcoming the darkness this time.
He had no idea if minutes passed or days. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on something soft. He tried to move but couldn’t budge. He felt as though the last ounce of energy in his body remained in his mind, and if he struggled too hard even that would leave him.
He heard the old woman named Toledo say, “You better take care of him. If he dies I’ll beat you both.”
Gently, he felt someone pulling away his clothes. Warm water washed over him, and Duncan managed to open his mouth. A hand cupped the back of his head and let him take a long drink. When he finished, he let out a sigh and relaxed, trusting the hands moving over him, washing away blood and wrapping his wound.
CHAPTER 18
EM WOKE IN A THUNDERSTORM MOOD. SHE COULDN’T believe she’d let Lewt kiss her last night. No, she corrected herself. She didn’t just let him kiss her, she’d almost begged him to. And then, he’d kissed her, really kissed her. It had been so much more than she thought a kiss could be.
Crossing to the mudroom, she bathed, put on her oldest clean clothes, and joined Rose, already in the kitchen. As she combed her hair by the fire, Em made up her mind that the only way to deal with what happened on the porch last night was to stay as far away from Lewt as possible. He’d be on the ranch only three more days and then he’d be gone and forget all about her and the kiss. And she’d stay here, glad things were back to normal, only she’d remember the kiss and cherish it. She might never marry, but she’d have the one perfect kiss to remember.
Braiding her hair, Em was lost in thought when Rose finished the biscuits and finally had time to join her in a cup of coffee.
As usual, Rose didn’t mess around. She said what was on her mind. “We have to stop this game, Em. I almost called Tamela by her name last night. I really like these men and suddenly the game doesn’t seem fair. They’re all decent and honest. What are they going to think if they find out that Tamela isn’t a McMurray, she’s just a look-alike Emily because the real one wouldn’t give up working with the horses?”
“Don’t worry. We only have a few more days. After the party Friday night we will all say good-bye and I’ll have Sumner drive them into town. They can spend the last night at the hotel so there is no chance they’ll miss the train Saturday morning. You can say you think that would be easier on Mrs. Allender.”
Rose didn’t like the idea, but it did seem easier to continue the game than change it now. “Beth and I thought we’d take the men into town just to show them around. I’ll stop by the hotel and ask one of the
waitresses to deliver lunch to the little house. It’ll be so much nicer that going into one of the crowded cafés.”
Em nodded. Most of the time the family was in town they either brought their own food or had one of the hotels deliver a meal. Their papa hated what he called “eating with strangers.” The girls never minded. Often Em and their mother would stay at the house while everyone else went shopping, and then they’d all ride home together talking of their day.
“Will you come with us?” Rose asked as she stood and began breakfast. The two girls from town they’d hired to help for the week never seemed to make it up for breakfast and weren’t that good at cooking. So Mrs. Watson and Mrs. Allender pitched in with helping prepare lunch and dinner and left the cleanup to the girls from town. It was a schedule that worked well, only Rose had began to notice that the meal deliveries to Boyd’s man in the barn seemed to take longer each time.
“I’ve got too much work to do here,” Em answered. “I saw more mountain lion tracks yesterday. It’s getting cold enough that the cats might be hunting this low. I told Sumner to make sure every man riding out had a rifle. He told me he’d already issued the order.”
“I don’t like the idea of one of the mountain lions being killed, but I’ve seen what they can do to a colt.”
“If we see them, we’ll fire in the air first and try to chase them back into the hills, but if they come back, we’ll have to protect the herd.” Em knew that deer in the mountains were not plentiful as in years past because of a bitter cold winter last year. If the cats and wolves came down, they were just doing what they do: hunting for game. Much as she hated it, she had to do what she did: protect the horses.
“Will Lewt be going with you?” Em asked, hoping to get Rose’s mind off the cats.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him to ask.”
“Ask what?” Lewt surprised them both. He stood in the doorway to the hall, looking all ready for winter in his wool work clothes and coat.
Rose smiled at him, her usual pleasant, not-too-friendly kind of smile Em had seen her give people on the street. “Would you like to go into town with us today, Lewton?”
“Who’ll stay here with Emily?” he asked, acting concerned. “Surely she’s in no condition to travel.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Watson will keep her company. Mrs. Allender said she’ll go along with us if we’ll take the buggy and lots of blankets.”
Lewt hesitated, then shook his head. “Much as I’d like to accompany you ladies, I think I’d better stay here. I promised to help Em for a few hours this morning, and then I might be able to make myself useful and visit with Miss Emily if she’s not resting. She told me she liked to play card games. I’m sure we can find one we both know.”
Rose was busy putting biscuits in the oven. Lewt looked at Em as if for help. She could understand his feelings. Going into town with a group sounded only slightly more fun than cleaning the barn. “Oh,” she said, knowing he expected her to say something. “I forgot, you did offer to help. We’d better eat and be heading out.”
Rose faced them. One of her lovely eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t say anything. A few minutes later Mrs. Allender joined them for a breakfast of ham, scrambled eggs, and biscuits with gravy. The dear lady had a habit of always discussing the next meal. She liked to plan lunch while eating breakfast, and dinner while still having lunch.
Em thought she was kind of like an oral menu board. And, not surprisingly, since she raised a large family, she was quite the cook. Em had noticed Rose jotting down instructions on how to prepare a few dishes Mrs. Allender suggested.
When the little woman finished her morning questions about lunch, silence fell over the group.
Em finally made an effort to talk about work. Rose talked of town. Lewt didn’t talk at all. In fact, he didn’t even look in Em’s direction. She had no doubt in her mind that his wanting to stay at the ranch had more to do with him not wanting to go to town than any notion that he should help her.
As he downed the last of his coffee, she motioned for them to go. He said his good-byes to the women and promised he’d check in on Emily when he got back.
Em didn’t say anything. Her mind was already filled with all the things she had to do. They walked to the barn without a word, and within minutes they were both in the saddle and riding out. She took off fast, and this morning he followed like a shadow.
He’d learned a great deal, and since dawn he’d worked beside her as if they had been a team for months.
At midday, they stopped to let the horses rest and she finally turned to him. “You should have gone with the others to town. It would be a good chance to talk to the McMurray women.”
“I didn’t want to.” He didn’t look at her when he answered.
“Then you should have stayed with Emily.”
“I’d be of little help there, and by now I’m sure I would have strangled Mrs. Watson. The woman reminds me of an out-of-tune wind chime set off by the slightest breeze. I’ve seen rivers that babbled less.”
When Em didn’t comment, he added, “Miss Emily is sweet, though, too sweet. There’s something about all that shyness and sewing that makes me nervous. You’d think she was getting paid, the way she works.”
Em shrugged and pulled off her hat to wipe her brow as she tried not to laugh. “Then I guess you’d better stay with me. I may work you to death, but at least we’ll have no shyness or sewing.” She smiled. “Of course, unless I’m sewing up your hide.”
He mumbled a swear, then laughed. “I’m afraid if she did the stitching on my leg, I’d have French knots and needlepointed initials.”
She laughed with him. “So I guess Miss Emily is out of the running?”
“She was never really in it. When a man is looking for a mate, there has to be some attraction there.”
“But she’s pretty.”
“I know. Beautiful, in fact, but I . . .”
He didn’t finish, and Em didn’t know if he had no answer or if he just didn’t want to tell her.
He turned away from her and was silent for a while as he watched the horses, and then he whispered, “About last night.”
“Last night is over,” she said, too quickly to be casual. “Thank you for showing me what a kiss was like, but I’m in need of no more lessons. What happened last night was a mistake.”
“Fine,” he said between clenched teeth. “I wasn’t asking for a thank-you or a repeat.”
“What’s the matter?” she snapped back at him. “I thought we were going to be honest with one another.”
“Nothing,” he answered, moving toward his horse. “Let’s get back to work.”
They rode north, following a set of mountain lion tracks. Neither talked, but when Em pulled her rifle, he did the same.
For the tenth time that day, she slipped from her horse and studied the tracks. “He’s close,” she said.
“You can read that in a track?”
“No, I can feel it. I’d swear he is the same big cat that came down last winter. We never saw him, never even got one shot off at him, but I remember one of the men saying he was missing a few claws. The prints show that now.”
“Maybe he’s too old to hunt? Or maybe there are more deer up in the hills than you think?”
She looked up at him, making no effort to hide the worry in her face. “Or maybe, he’s back.”
They followed the cat’s trail for another hour, and then the wind turned cold and Em knew it would be wise to head home.
Just as they turned, she caught a movement at the edge of the clearing.
Lewt saw it a second later. Without a word they moved closer, both rifles ready to fire.
Twenty feet into the shadows of a stand of tall pine, they recognized what lay in the grass. A colt, not three months old, tried to stand, then tumbled into the grass.
“He’s hurt,” Em said, as she kicked her mount and closed the distance to the young horse.
Lewt remained frozen in place as she jumped
down and ran to the colt. Blood from what looked like a puncture wound dripped from his side, and he stared at her with wild, frightened eyes.
Just as she reached the animal, something moved in the trees, and she realized too late that the mountain lion must have smelled them and had moved into hiding but had not left.
Before she could pull her sidearm from the holster, she heard a rush in the brush and knew the lion was rushing toward her. Instinct allowed only a second for her to lean over the downed colt, and then the blast of a rifle whistled just above her head. One long silent moment later she heard the thundering thud of something falling in the bush between the trees.
Em looked up to see Lewt jumping from his horse, his rifle still in his hand as he ran toward her.
“Stay down!” he yelled as he passed her and crossed into the trees.
Em wanted to help the colt, but she knew what she had to do. If the mountain lion was wounded and not killed, he might still be in the brush. She ran for her rifle and chambered a round. She stood a few feet from the colt, ready to fire if needed.
The north wind was the only sound she heard besides the pounding of her own heart. She’d been an idiot to leave her rifle and run to the colt. Her papa would be furious at her for risking her life. How many times had he told her in the past to take precautions? She’d be no good to the stock if she managed to get herself killed.
A rustling came from the edge of the pines. A moment later Lewt appeared, his rifle pointing down as if at rest. “I got him,” he said simply. “He’s dead.”
Em gulped down air. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. “If we’d been a few minutes later, he would have finished the colt off.”
Lewt reached her side and took the rifle from her hand.
“If you hadn’t been here”—she met his gaze—“the lion might have finished me off too.”
Lewt set the rifles on the cold grass as he knelt beside the horse. “Get your saddlebags and the canteen, Em; don’t panic. You can thank me later; we’ve got to see to this horse first.”
