“Abby says it’s good to be curious and the only way to find things out is to ask.”
“So I have Abby to thank for the fact that my nerves are as raw as a greenhorn cowboy?” He stared at Katie, who just looked right back at him. Finally he said, “I wonder where those boys got to? They been gone an awful long time.”
Lily glanced off into the brush, hoping he wasn’t getting suspicious. “Oliver sometimes takes a while.”
“Hell, he let most of his water go right here,” Donovan said with a snort.
“He’s only four years old.” Lily stood up. “I’ll wash up the dishes before bed.”
He glared at Katie. “You gonna sleep all night this time?”
“I’ll try,” she answered. “Can’t always tell when that bad dream will come. Uncle Jarrod—”
“Don’t say it.” He held up his hands to stop her. “Not one more time. I don’t want to know how Blackstone does things. You’re with me now. We’re gonna do it my way. You got that?”
“Yes, mister,” Katie said, thrusting out her lower lip.
He pointed at her. “Don’t you pout, girl.”
The brush rustling nearby told them Tom and Oliver were returning. Tom burst into the clearing. “Lily, Oliver’s got spots.”
Donovan agitatedly rubbed the back of his neck. “It won’t work, boy. I know what you’re tryin’ to do and I ain’t gonna fall for it.”
“Where are they?” Lily asked, studying the boy’s face. As much as she hated agreeing with Donovan about anything, she didn’t see anything either.
“Look at his back,” Tom said.
She pulled Oliver by the fire and lifted his shirt. A covering of small red dots went from the waist of his trousers to the base of his neck.
“Tom’s right. He’s got spots. If you don’t believe me, look for yourself,” Lily said.
“You think I don’t know you want to go back with Blackstone?” Donovan stared in turn at each of them. “This is just a trick. I’m not fallin’ for it.”
“Oliver hasn’t felt good all day,” Lily pointed out.
The man threw up his hands. “I don’t want to hear any more. Get to bed, all of you. We’re gettin’ up early tomorrow and I want to move. This time tomorrow night, we’ll be off Blackstone land.”
As worry about Oliver settled over her, Lily finished washing up, then settled her brothers and sister. Donovan was already in his bedroll. Everything was quiet for a while. Then Donovan let out a yelp, threw his covers aside, and jumped up.
“There’s somethin’ in there,” he hollered. “It was crawlin’ on me.”
They sat up and looked as a snake quickly slithered from the man’s bedroll. Tom eyed the markings on the creature’s back and laughed. “That’s just a harmless ol’ garter snake. Gib showed me how to tell which are dangerous. He won’t hurt you, mister.”
Donovan pointed at him. “You put it in there, you little son of a bitch. And the ants the night before and the crickets the night before that.”
“What makes you think so, mister?” Tom looked innocent as a newborn babe, and Lily wondered how he’d learned to lie so well.
Katie covered her ears. “You shouldn’t call Tom bad names, Mr. Rafe.”
Oliver started to cry, and Lily gathered him onto her lap. “My head hurts,” he wailed. “I itch all over.”
“Talk to your brother. He probably put ants in your bed,” Donovan replied.
“I did no such thing,” Tom said angrily.
“Doesn’t matter if ya did or didn’t. Go to sleep. All of ya. I don’t want to hear another word from anyone.”
Oliver whimpered, and as Lily cradled him against her, she felt the heat from his body. Something was very wrong with him. Donovan could deny it all he wanted, but Lily was really worried.
Oliver wasn’t faking.
Abby crouched in front of the campfire and poured Jarrod a cup of coffee. He accepted it gratefully and blew on the steaming liquid before sipping. He looked tired. Night was turning to gray dawn, and day four of following Donovan and the children was about to begin.
Until now, Abby had had no idea how large the ranch was. When she’d finally asked, Jarrod told her it consisted of 39,000 acres, five ranches in one. They could ride for a long time and not leave Blackstone land. But she knew he was worried.
Jarrod had hardly slept during the last three days. She knew that because she hadn’t either. “Jarrod?”
“Hmm?” He cradled the cup between his palms and stared into it.
“What if your plan doesn’t work? What if he doesn’t give them back?”
“He will.” There was a deadly certainty to his words.
Still Abby wasn’t convinced. The more time that went by, the harder it was to keep her doubts from creeping in. “What if he doesn’t?”
“He will, Abby,” he snapped. He turned blazing eyes on her. “Don’t do this. I don’t want to hear it—” He stopped and gritted his teeth. The muscle in his cheek jerked as he got his anger under control.
“I’m sorry.” She stood up and busied herself folding her bedroll.
Behind her, Jarrod kicked the ground. Rocks and dirt scattered. “Oh, hell,” he said.
He came up, then, and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I had no call to yell like that.”
He turned Abby toward him and stared into her eyes, which were brimming with unshed tears. “Especially not at you, Abby. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without your help.”
He held her close. As she rested her cheek over his heart, she heard its steady thumping. A small sob escaped her before she could stop it.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “We’ll get them back even if I have to give him everything I own to do it.”
She looked up at him, astonished, because he sounded like he meant it. “Would you really do that?” she asked.
“Damn right I would.” His mouth thinned in determination.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Don’t you think it’s time to break camp and pick up their trail?”
“You’re right. They’re only about mile or two ahead of us. I scouted them before I joined you last night.”
Jarrod saddled the horses while Abby packed up. He could have kicked himself for the way he’d treated her. But he was worried. He’d made a promise to the kids, and if he didn’t get them back before nightfall, it would be broken.
He helped Abby up into the saddle, then swung onto his roan. They headed in the direction of Donovan’s camp. Before traveling far, he spotted a dust cloud on the road ahead of them.
He pointed. “Look at that.”
Abby reined her horse, then stood taller in the stirrups and shaded her eyes. “It looks like a big farm wagon.”
“Donovan.” His chest tightened. “Why would he circle back like this, unless …” Jarrod looked at her, afraid to hope.
“Let’s wait and see,” she said cautiously.
They stood their ground right there in the road. Jarrod figured it was time for a showdown with Rafe Donovan no matter the reason the man had changed his course. Their horses shifted restlessly as they waited and watched.
He saw Tom point in their direction, then the kids in the back of the wagon jumping up and down. As he looked closer, he saw it was just the girls.
“Where’s Oliver?” he asked sharply.
“I don’t see him,” Abby answered, turning to look at him with concern.
“If anything’s happened to that boy, I’ll—”
“Don’t borrow trouble, Jarrod.” She kneed her mount and the restive animal leaped forward.
Jarrod followed, and they stopped beside the wagon as Donovan pulled back on the reins.
“Hi, Uncle Jarrod,” Tom said.
“Where’s Oliver?” Jarrod demanded, his gaze quickly traveling over the three children he could see.
Before Donovan could say anything, Lily leaned over the wagon seat between Tom and Donovan. “He’s here in the back of the w
agon, Uncle Jarrod. He’s sick.”
Without a word, Abby quickly slid off her horse and hurried over to the wagon. She climbed inside and hunched down until she disappeared.
Katie peeked around Tom’s other side. “Are you glad to see us, Uncle Jarrod? Were you following us the whole time like you said?”
“You bet, honey. I was never far behind.”
Jarrod looked at the other man, loosely holding the reins. “What’s going on, Donovan? Why’d you turn around?”
“Like she said,” he indicated Lily, “the kid took sick. He said somethin’ last night, but I thought he was fakin’.”
Abby stood up, a worried frown on her face. “It looks like chicken pox. He’s got a fever.”
“Is he gonna be all right, Abby?” Katie asked. “He don’t look so good, does he?”
Abby put an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “He’ll be fine. He just needs some looking after,” she said pointedly.
Donovan glanced at her, then looked back at Jarrod. “Like I was sayin’, this mornin’ I could see he was sick. We were on our way back to the ranch, where he can be looked after proper. No way I want a sick kid on the trail.”
Jarrod nodded, a grudging respect for the other man beginning. “That’s good. Let’s get him back there.” He started to wheel his horse around.
“Blackstone?”
“What?”
“Just thought you should know I believed I was doing the right thing by these kids.”
A spurt of hope cut loose inside Jarrod. “What are you saying?”
“I’d never deliberately bring harm to these young’uns. When Oliver there took sick, I figured maybe I’d bit off more than I could chew.”
“And?” Jarrod prodded. He watched Abby walk back to her horse and mount up. Expectation glowed in her eyes, and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was.
Donovan met Jarrod’s gaze directly. “They’d be best off with a pa,” he looked at Abby, “and a ma. I can’t give them that.”
“So you were bringing them back to the ranch for good?”
“Yes. My brother wanted me to see that his children were taken care of. It’s clear to me now that leaving them with you and Mrs. Blackstone is the best way to see that done.”
Jarrod grinned. “I think I might have to change my opinion of you, Rafe.”
The other man returned his look. “Maybe not, after I tell you what I think of you for siccing those kids on me the way you did.”
“You figured that out?”
“Three nights in a row of critters in my bedroll was a sight more than coincidence. Lily burned every meal. My stomach’s wearing a hole clear to my backbone. Katie had dreams every night and kept me up. I’m so tired I can hardly see straight. And Oliver—” He shrugged. “Blackstone, I don’t know how you do it. Didn’t seem like lookin’ after four youngsters would be so dang hard.”
“I had help,” he said, glancing at Abby. “You get used to having kids around.”
“Maybe. If they had nobody, you can bet I’d have ‘em with me. But I got awful dang sick and tired of them singing your praises. They went to a heap of trouble to get me to take ‘em back. After a spell it dawned on me that you were the one they wanted. That’s where they’d best be.”
Saddle leather creaked as Jarrod leaned over with his hand outstretched. Donovan took it.
“Thanks,” Jarrod said.
Donovan nodded, then picked up the reins again. “Let’s get this young’un back where he belongs.” He slanted Jarrod a wry look. “Bet we can make it in half the time now that everything’s as it should be.”
“Maybe.”
Donovan flicked the reins over the backs of his team of horses. “Giddyap,” he called.
Jarrod and Abby rode ahead of the wagon. He looked over at her, emotion squeezing his chest until he could hardly breathe. “It didn’t happen, Abby. I kept my promise.”
“What?” she asked.
“He didn’t take them off Blackstone land.”
18
Jarrod stood on the front porch along with Gib Cochran, watching the big farm wagon until it lumbered out of sight.
“Rafe Donovan turned out to be a right nice fella,” Gib said.
“Yup, he did,” Jarrod agreed.
“A relief to me, I can tell ya.”
“How’s that?”
“It’s good t’know those young’uns got sound blood from both sides of the family.”
“I suppose,” Jarrod said.
“Mighty nice of him t’stay till Oliver was fit as a fiddle and fixin’ t’paint chickens again.”
Jarrod grinned. “Amazing how fast kids bounce back.”
Gib scratched the gray-and-black stubble on his chin. “Donovan spent a good bit of time watching after the other kids while you and Abby tended to the little fella.”
“Did he? I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Didn’t think ya were. Had your hands full with that boy, gettin’ his fever down ‘n’ all.”
“He gave us some anxious times, that’s for sure. If it hadn’t been for Abby—”
“Always comes back to the Firecracker, don’t it?”
Jarrod slanted him a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
“More’n once she’s turned you around to her way of thinkin’. She said all along those kids should get to know their pa’s folks. I don’t know about you, but I feel a dang sight better now that they have.”
“You already said that.”
There was a point here somewhere. He’d known Gib for a long time. Eventually he would get to it. From experience, Jarrod knew whatever the man wanted to tell him would be worth the wait.
“While you were gone, a letter came from San Francisco,” Gib added, his coal-black gaze intense.
With all that had happened, Jarrod had forgotten the wire he’d sent. “It must be from Luke Brody. I asked him to—”
“Ain’t from him.”
Jarrod’s eyes narrowed. “You opened it?”
“Nope. Says right there on the outside. It’s from Sam Miller, care of Luke Brody.”
“Luke must have found Abby’s father.”
“Can’t figure you out, boy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You can’t let her go any more than you could them young’uns. So why in tarnation did you make it easy for her to leave?”
“You said it yourself—she sets a lot of store by family.”
Jarrod shifted his shoulders, trying to ease the tension in his neck. He couldn’t deny that he would have trouble letting Abby go. “She’s bent on finding him. I wanted to help. Abby’s my friend—”
Gib laughed. “She’s a dang sight more than that, and if you can’t see that by now, you’re dumb as a post.”
“I see it.” Putting that thought into words opened the way for the pain that followed.
He loved her.
“I can’t stop her from leaving, Gib.”
“The hell you can’t—”
“She agreed to stay until things were settled with the children.”
“I thought she planned to save enough for her brother’s schoolin’.”
“I’ll see that Clint has enough money to finish his education. It’s the least I can do for Abby after everything she’s done for me.” He ran his hand through his hair. “If living with her father is what she wants, there’s nothing standing in her way.”
“‘Cept you.” Jarrod stared at him, and Gib shook his head, exasperated. “If you don’t know that she’s sweet on you-”
“That’s the damnable part. I know she cares. But if I stand in her way, she’ll never forgive me. She’s one stubborn, bullheaded woman.”
“Them’s the worst kind.” Gib grinned. “And the best. ‘Specially for you.”
“I have to give her the letter, Gib. I couldn’t keep it from her.”
“Why don’t ya at least read it first. See if—”
“You know I can’t do that.”
> Just then the front door opened. Tom raced outside, his face white as a sheet, gray eyes fearful. “Uncle Jarrod, come quick.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Abby. She passed out cold.”
“What?” Jarrod said, alarmed. “Fainted?”
“Yes, sir. She was fryin’ bacon for us and just dropped like a stone.”
Jarrod turned and ran into the house. In the kitchen, he found Abby with her head in Lily’s lap as Katie stroked her hand. Both girls were crying.
“Help her, Uncle Jarrod,” Lily demanded, her voice trembling.
Fear tightened in his gut. Abby wasn’t a swooning kind of woman. Jarrod went down on one knee beside her. He touched a hand to her forehead and felt the heat. Her face was flushed and her eyes closed. “I need water.”
“I’ll get it,” Tom said.
Jarrod scooped Abby into his arms. “Bring it up to my room. And cloths,” he ordered, staring at the girls.
“Yes, sir,” they answered.
“What’s wrong with her?” Katie asked.
At the doorway he stopped, gathering Abby more tightly to his chest.
“My guess is Abby never had chicken pox.”
For three days Jarrod stayed by Abby’s bedside. When the spots came out, they covered her from head to toe. Dusty had brought the doc from town, for all the good the old sawbones had done. He’d said fever was the most dangerous part of the disease. If they could get that to break, she’d be nothing more than uncomfortable from the itching.
Beside him, Abby moaned. He’d covered her in cool, damp sheets. Oliver had rested easier after they’d done that for him. But Abby was so much worse than the boy had been.
Worry gnawed at Jarrod as he remembered the doc saying adult cases of chicken pox were almost always worse than children’s. He hadn’t said Abby could die, but Jarrod had seen that possibility in his eyes.
“Fight, Abby,” he said, sponging off her face with cool water. Her cheekbones were prominent because of the flesh she’d lost. He had struggled to get water into her. Food was impossible. “Dammit, you fight this. I won’t lose you.”
There was a knock at the door, then it opened. “I brung ya more water, Uncle Jarrod,” Tom said.
“Put it there on the nightstand,” Jarrod ordered, not taking his gaze from the delicate woman in the bed. It tore at him to see his vibrant Abby—Firecracker—so deathly ill.
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