Gone Haunting in Deadwood (A Deadwood Mystery Book 9)

by Ann Charles

  “Right.” She turned to Natalie. “I cried off and on all night. Mom let me sleep with her and stroked my hair while I was awake.”

  “You’re lucky to have such a good mom,” Natalie said.

  I winked at my daughter. “Who loves you, baby?”

  “You do, Momma.” She winked back.

  “Did Doc cry during the night?” Layne broke up our mini love fest. “Is that why you let him sleep in your bed?”

  “He didn’t cry, but he moaned and groaned a lot until I gave him some medicine to help him rest. After he took the pills, I was still worried about him. You see, sometimes the wrong medicine can make a person feel even worse.”

  “So, you wanted to watch over him all night?” Addy asked. “That’s why you had him sleep in your bed?”

  “Yes.” There was no lie there.

  Layne tipped his head to the side, watching me like I was in a little room down at the cop shop under bright lights. “Are you going to let him sleep in your bed again tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  Resting her chin on her palm, Addy’s eyebrows pinched together. “Should we be worried about Doc?”

  “Nah, kid.” Natalie ruffled Addy’s hair. “Doc’s a big strong man. Your mom is fretting over him because that’s what moms do, right?”

  My daughter nodded, patting my hand like she felt sorry for me for being so motherly.

  Layne, though, still had his interrogation face in place. “Where’s Doc’s mom? Why doesn’t he ask his own mom to take care of him?”

  “Doc’s mom is no longer alive, Layne. He doesn’t have anyone to look after him.”

  “What about his dad?” Layne pressed.

  “His dad is gone, too.”

  “Ohhh.” Addy’s eyes grew watery. “You mean Doc is all alone?”

  “No.” Aunt Zoe squeezed Addy’s shoulder. “He has us now, doesn’t he?”

  I smiled at my aunt, my adoration for her overflowing my heart.

  Addy jumped up from her chair. “We should make Doc breakfast in bed, Mom. You know, like you do for us when we’re sick.”

  I almost pooh-poohed her idea, not wanting to wake Doc, but the excitement in her eyes swayed me. “Sure, we can do that. What should we make him?”

  “He likes French toast.” Addy ran over to the pantry and grabbed one of Aunt Zoe’s aprons.

  I turned to Layne. He’d been hanging around Cooper too much, practicing his smaller version of the detective’s stony expression. “What are you thinking, kid?”

  “How old was Doc when his mom and dad died?”

  “Younger than you.”

  He mulled that over. “Did he grow up in an orphanage?”

  “No, his grandfather raised him.”

  “His grandpa?” At my nod, his forehead puckered between his light brown eyebrows. “Is his grandpa still alive?”

  “No. He died when Doc was in high school, I think.”

  “Does he have any brothers or sisters?” Addy asked while Aunt Zoe helped to tie the apron on her.

  “Nope.”

  She covered her heart with both hands. “Oh, my molies. That is so sad. We need to get Doc something extra special for Christmas, like a puppy.”

  “No puppy, Adelynn. Try again.”

  She twirled in circles in the apron, smiling as it puffed out around her. “How about a rooster then? A rooster would fit right in at Doc’s house with all of those boys, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I know!” Natalie raised her hand, waiting for all of us to look at her. “We could dress your mom up really nice and send her out on a date with Doc.”

  I nodded, liking the sound of that.

  “Nahhh,” Addy said, skipping over to the refrigerator. “Doc has seen Mom with no makeup and her hair all messy. We can’t fool him about her anymore.”

  Hey! I scoffed under my breath, patting my tousled curls. What did that mean? I wasn’t that hideous in the morning … was I?

  “We could get him some goldfish and let him keep them here in my room.” Addy added under her breath, “In my new fish tank.”

  “No fish, Adelynn. You have enough critters running around here.”

  “Nice try, kid.” Aunt Zoe chuckled, joining Addy at the counter where she was attempting to crack an egg in a bowl. “How about I help you with this?”

  “Sure! Doc likes cinnamon in the mix, too. I helped him make French toast for Kelly and me last time she spent the night.”

  “I know what we could get him,” Layne said.

  “You do?” I waited, my breath held. Was Layne going to give an inch or two on accepting another man in the house for the long term?

  He nodded. “But it’s a Christmas secret.”

  “Okay, my lips are sealed.”

  “It’s a secret from you, too, Mom.”

  “What about me?” Natalie asked. “You can whisper it to me.”

  Layne guffawed. “No way am I telling you, Nat. You tell Mom everything.”

  I grinned at my best friend. “He has you there.” Although there was something going on in that gorgeous head that she wasn’t telling me, something that I was going to drill out of her as soon as we had some time alone.

  A half hour later, Natalie left to slip and slide her way back to the Galena House. I headed upstairs with Doc’s breakfast on a tray. Both kids tiptoed in after me. Addy carried syrup and a napkin, and Layne balanced a cup of coffee and a glass of water. Loaded down with a tray of food—a plate with several slices of French toast, a small dish with bacon, and a bowl of grapes and orange slices—I paused outside my bedroom door.

  “What’s wrong?” Addy whispered.

  “The door is open.” Hadn’t I closed it? Maybe it was sucked open when the furnace kicked on. Old houses were tricky that way.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Layne said with a layer of sarcasm from the back of our food train.

  Before I could answer, a clucking chicken threaded between our legs and strutted into my bedroom as if it were her own boudoir. Elvis headed for the chair by the window, flutter-jumping up onto it, joining Addy’s cat, who sat on top of a pile of clean clothes. Bogart the cat paused in the midst of cleaning her back leg in a rather risqué pose, eyeing us for a second before returning to her task.

  “Addy,” I murmured, nudging my head toward the cat as I rounded the end of the bed with the tray of food. “Get them out of here.”

  My daughter ignored me, her eyes wide as she stared at the bed. “What’s that?” She pointed the bottle of syrup toward it.

  “Shhh.” I looked over. What was the problem? Doc hadn’t moved since we’d left earlier. His chest rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm. His face appeared relaxed, pain-free.

  On my side of the bed, a small lump moved south under the covers, heading toward Doc’s feet.

  I gasped.

  That damned cat had struck again.

  Scowling, I watched as the lump skirted his right foot. Hold up. That thing looked too big to be a mouse.

  Oh, my God! What was under there?

  Frozen in horror, I watched as the lump made a sharp left, traveling north between Doc’s ankles.

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  I looked around for someplace to set the tray where the cat and chicken wouldn’t be able to scarf the food Addy had worked so hard to make.

  “Mom!” Layne whispered, grimacing as the lump made it to Doc’s knees. “Do something before it reaches his private parts.”

  Doc stirred, his legs moving under the blankets.

  The three of us watched with bated breath, none of us moving a muscle as Doc shifted. I winced in anticipation of his shout of surprise that undoubtedly would be followed by a bellow of pain when he tried to sit up too fast.

  The lump was only inches from his knee when Doc stilled again.

  “I have an idea.” Addy put the syrup on the floor. She stepped around me, hovering at Doc’s side. “I’ll pull back the covers and get it out.” She grabbed t
he edge of the comforter.

  “Wait!” I stopped her before she could flip back the blanket.

  Doc was wearing only his boxer briefs under the covers. I doubted he’d appreciate being gawked at by the three of us in the morning light.

  “I’ll do it.” I reached across Doc to set the tray on my side of the bed.

  Elvis chose that moment to take flight from the chair, landing in a puff of feathers on the end of the bed at Doc’s feet.

  Still bent over Doc, I glared over my shoulder at Addy. “Get. That. Chicken.”

  Layne inhaled quickly. “Mom, it’s moving again.”

  I looked between my arms at the bed. The lump was slowly moving toward Doc’s thighs.

  “Uh-oh,” I whispered, letting the tray bounce onto the bed so I could stand upright again.

  Elvis squawked loud in my ear.

  Doc’s eyes opened. He looked from me to Addy to Layne to the chicken, which had paused mid-hunt with one leg in the air. “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t move,” I said. “There’s a big mouse between your legs.”

  His brows furrowed. “That’s not a mouse, Violet.”

  Elvis took a step closer to the lump, which was now a few inches from Doc’s nether regions.

  I hushed him with my finger to my lips. “I’m gonna reach under—”

  The dang chicken went into ninja mode between Doc’s legs.

  Wings flapped!

  Feathers flew!

  Elvis screeched and squawked!

  I jerked back and stepped down on Addy’s bare foot. She cried out and shoved me back onto the bed. I fell toward Doc, who caught me before I came down on his ribs. Grunting in pain, he tried to kick the bird off from under the covers, but Elvis rode the waves, bent on her task.

  Doc’s knee bumped the serving tray, flipping the tray and dishes upside down on the comforter.

  A loud squeak came from under the covers. I looked down as Elvis hopped between Doc’s knees, pecking in mad-chicken mode at the lump running in circles under the covers.

  “Christ!” Doc growled, trying to push me upright as the lump headed further north to burrow for safety. I tried to get my footing only to have Addy bump me forward onto Doc again as she scrambled up onto the edge of the bed.

  “Don’t worry, Doc,” she yelled. “I got her!” Addy tried to grab Elvis, but the bird slipped free, squawking and pecking him on the knee.

  “Ouch!” he shouted, shoving me lower where I had a close-up view of the lump being chased by a very determined chicken.

  “I’ll get it!” Layne set the coffee down on the floor and dove onto the end of the bed, playing whack-a-mole with the lump under the covers.

  “No! Layne, stop!” I shouted, but Layne didn’t hear me in the commotion. Pushing off Doc’s hipbone, I shoved my hand under the covers. “I’ll get it!”

  Layne kept smacking at the lump while Addy struggled to hold onto the flapping chicken. A feather floated up my nose as I reached south between Doc’s legs, making me sneeze.

  “Everybody freeze!” Doc bellowed.

  All three of us stopped and looked at Doc, who’d managed to push himself into a sitting position.

  “Addy,” he said in a calm voice. “Put the chicken down on the floor.” When she obeyed, he turned to Layne. “Please get off my shins.” Layne rolled through the mess of French toast and bacon onto my side of the bed and beyond, taking some grapes and orange slices with him.

  “Violet,” Doc frowned down at me. “Remove your hand from under the covers and step away from the bed.”

  I scrambled to my feet, almost knocking the glass of water over onto the carpet.

  While the three of us watched, Doc reached under the covers and pulled out a large, tan-colored rodent.

  “Duke!” Addy cried out. She grabbed her pet gerbil from Doc and held him to her chest, petting him between the ears. “How did you get out of your cage, you poor baby?”

  I crossed my arms, glaring at where Bogart the cat had been sitting moments ago but was now suspiciously absent. “I think I know who sprung your gerbil out of jail. Did you lock the cage?”

  “No. I never do.”

  “Why not, Adelynn?”

  “Because Duke’s too short to get out, and I have trouble opening it on my own, remember?”

  I sighed. “Take Duke back to your room.” I pointed at Elvis, who was trying to open my closet door. “Layne, return Elvis to the basement for now.”

  After apologizing to Doc and telling him they hoped he was feeling better, both kids left the bedroom along with the troublemaking pets. I closed the door behind them, locking it for good measure, and leaned against it.

  Doc picked up a piece of bacon from my comforter and took a bite. “You guys brought me breakfast in bed.”

  “And then some.” I scrubbed my hands down my face, wondering if he’d want to pack his clothes and head home for the next couple of weeks where he wouldn’t risk further injury upon waking up each morning.

  He grabbed a piece of French toast from my pillow. “So, the kids saw me in your bed.” He brushed a feather off the piece of bread and took a bite. “Mmmm, cinnamon.” He nodded in appreciation. “Nice touch.”

  “Addy made it.” Well, Addy and Aunt Zoe, but right now I figured my daughter could use some bonus points for the mess her chicken, cat, and gerbil had made of his morning.

  “She’s a good egg.” He took another bite. “Will you hand me the syrup?”

  I crossed the room, grabbing the bottle from where Addy had left it on the floor. “I told them you slept in my bed because you were in pain and needed my help, just like when they’re sick and hurting.”

  He took the syrup and popped open the lid. “Is that why I was getting breakfast in bed?”

  “Something like that.” I watched as he poured a few dollops of syrup on the French toast and then took a bite. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  He swallowed. “Like I was run over by a chicken chasing a gerbil and then bounced on by two kids and a wild woman.”

  Groaning at the catastrophe, I sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, my hand finding the comforter’s edge. “I guess it could’ve been worse.”

  His dark eyebrows lifted. “Really? How?”

  “Elvis could’ve attacked something else hiding under the covers.”

  He looked downward. “You mean like what you just found?”

  I smiled at him from under my lashes. “Why whatever do you mean, Mr. Nyce?” I spoke in a sweet, southern voice.

  “Lady, you have one hell of a wake-up call at this joint.” He drizzled more syrup on the piece of French toast and held it out to me.

  “Welcome to my crazy life.” I took a bite, licking my lips. “Mmmm, she really did do a good job with just the right amount of cinnamon.”

  He stared at my mouth, his body stiff all around. “Boots, either you need to stop what you’re doing or finish what you’ve started.”

  “Your ribs are bruised,” I reminded us both, pulling my hand out from under the covers.

  He closed his eyes and groaned. “Now my ribs aren’t the only place that aches, vixen.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a good ache.”

  “No. No it’s not.”

  “Lie back and let me look at your ribs.”

  “I’d rather lie back and have you finish what you started.”

  My smile teased. “Ribs first, big guy.”

  I propped the pillows behind his head and helped him lean back into them. When I pulled the comforter down, I sucked air between my teeth at the sight of the mottled colors on his left side. “My, what pretty bruises you have, Doc.”

  “Thanks. I was trying to outdo Coop’s from when that bone-eater used him for a trampoline back in Harvey’s graveyard.”

  “Well, I didn’t get a look at his after that first night, but you certainly would look good next to my purple boots.” I frowned down at the evidence of yesterday’s screwup. “I should have been more careful, Doc.
”

  He cussed, holding out his hand. “Help me out of bed.” With a few winces, he made it to his feet with little actual assistance from me.

  “You want me to help you get dressed?”

  “No, Nurse Violet. I got this. I appreciate your offer, but a guy doesn’t want to look like a complete wimp in front of his girl, especially after almost having his nuts and bolts pecked off by a chicken.”

  I frowned. “You probably want to wake up in the safety of your own bed tomorrow.”

  He squinted down at me. “Are you kicking me out of your bed?”

  “No, just offering you an escape option.”

  “It’s going to take more than sharing a bed with a rodent to scare me off, woman.”

  I closed the distance between us and slid my hands around his waist, slipping my thumbs inside the elastic band of his boxer briefs. “Good, because I have big plans.”

  “For your bed?”

  “For you.”

  His smile creased his eyes. “Do tell, please.”

  “Well, for starters, I’m—”

  Someone pounded on the door.

  “Mom!” Layne shouted. “You need to come downstairs quick!”

  “Why?” I stepped back from Doc. “What’s Elvis chasing now?”

  “It’s not Elvis. It’s Aunt Zoe.”

  I grabbed Doc’s jeans off the chair where Bogart had been cleaning herself and tossed them to him. “What about Aunt Zoe?”

  The boom of a shotgun blast rumbled through the house.

  Chapter Eight

  “Please tell me you didn’t shoot Reid,” I said, racing into the kitchen.

  Aunt Zoe wasn’t there. Neither was Reid, thank the Maker.

  Layne and Doc joined me several hand-wringing seconds later.

  I grabbed my son by the shoulders, searching his wide eyes. “Layne, what was Aunt Zoe doing before you came upstairs?”

  “Ummm, well, she was rinsing out her coffee cup in the sink. Then she made a weird screeching noise that sounded like somebody pinched her. When I looked at her, she was staring out the window. She said a couple of swear words—sort of like you do, Mom, only she wasn’t as loud. Then she grabbed her shotgun off the top of the fridge and told me to go get you and Doc.”