by Linda Broday
“I can’t thank you enough, Miss Marley,” Roan said softly. “You’re an angel.”
Marley gave him a smile. She was glad she’d decided to go to town two days ago, and not just for his sake. For a long time now, she’d been yearning for something more than wiping kids’ noses and tending to scraped knees. Wherever Roan Penny came from appeared to be hard on a man’s health. Maybe he would stick around for a little while.
* * *
Later that evening, after helping her mother with supper in the big house, she carried another tray to Roan. Tending to him gave her a sense of accomplishment, and his arrival had broken the monotony of her days.
He was showing improvement since he’d awakened earlier in the day, and maybe that was a sign that they’d be able to get more answers out of him soon. She wanted to know more—where he lived, what exactly had happened to him, but he was saying little. He’d given a vague explanation about bad men, and she knew there was more to the story. Lots more.
Hardy Gage, one of the ranch hands, held the door for her. He’d been out since before dawn, probably tracking the rustlers her father had spoken of, and only just ridden back in. Worry landed in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t seen her father this upset and angry in a long while.
The aging cowboy wore a lot of salt in his pepper hair. He gave her a wide grin that showed missing teeth. “Miss Marley Rose, I do believe you get prettier every time I see you.”
“I’ll bet you tell all the girls that, Hardy.” She glanced up at the lean man with a smile. He’d worked for them ever since she could remember, and as far as she was concerned, he was part of the family. Hardy was one of those men who never saw a stranger, and he was one of the finest people she knew.
He glanced at her from beneath those shaggy brows that had grown together to form a solid gray line. “Nope, only the ones that I helped raise.”
They stepped inside the house, and Hardy stared and whistled. “Hell, a piece of dirt don’t dare find its way inside here! You keep this cleaner than the inside of a church.”
“Oh hush, you’re not the one living here.”
“I’m sure grateful for that. But what I want to know is why you’ve been cleaning the bunkhouse again. I’ve told you a hundred and fifty times to leave our place alone. Men like mess and clutter. We don’t want our place all girlied up to where me and the boys can’t find a blooming thing.” He waved his arm. “Go girly up your own stuff and keep your hands off ours.”
“I swear, you sound like a grizzly finding someone had beaten him to the honey. I had to rake the bunkhouse out. The place was a pig sty.” They entered the bedroom. Roan was already sitting up and wearing a pair of long johns that her mother had brought him earlier, with a sheet over his lower half. They’d originally belonged to Caleb Butler, another of Marley’s adopted brothers. He’d enlisted in the army and was one of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders. He’d made the ride up San Juan Hill last year, and they’d all burst with pride for him.
“Looks like we’ll have to invest in a good padlock,” Hardy grumbled.
“Stop the bellyaching before I throw something at you, and come meet our guest. He got himself banged up a bit.” Marley led the way to the bedroom. “Roan Penny, meet Hardy Gage, one of our ranch hands.”
Hardy let out a long whistle. “Someone must’ve thought hell needed paving but was out of pitch, so they used your hide instead.”
“Something like that.” Roan worked to smile but evidently found it too painful. He shook hands instead. “Gage, help me find my pants and get me to the table. I’ve had enough of this bed.”
Marley shook her head. “You’re too weak. Please stay there.”
“No dice, Miss Marley. Gage?”
“I reckon a man knows when he’s had enough coddling,” Hardy said. “I don’t see any pants, though. Marley Rose, where’s the man’s clothes?”
She threw up her hands. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! They’re on the trunk at the end of the bed. I just hope you know what you’re doing, Roan.”
Hardy grunted and pushed her out the door, shutting it. She had nothing left to do but sit everything on her small table and wait for them to open it again. A short while later, the two men emerged, Roan’s arm draped around Hardy’s neck. He dropped into a chair, overexerted by the few steps.
Marley sat a cup of coffee in front of him. “Steak and potatoes tonight. I hope the meat is how you like it. I made the apple pie.”
Roan glanced up through his swollen slits. “It’ll be perfect no matter how it turned out.”
“Where’s mine, darlin’?” Hardy asked. “I’m near crippled after repairing miles of cut fence.”
“Oh, stop.” Marley tried not to hover over Roan but stood ready to help if he needed it. “Did you find any sign of the rustlers?”
“The cattle took care of the tracks, and we lost all sign of everything at the river.”
“They swam them downstream?” That appeared a little odd to her from what she knew of rustlers, but that would sure wipe out a trail.
“Yep. Boss is mad as hell. I’d stay out of his way.” Hardy swung to Roan. “Nice to meet you. I’d better get some grub before it’s all gone. Either me or the boss will come to help you back to bed.”
“Thanks, Hardy,” Roan said. “Good luck finding the rustlers.”
Finally, they were alone. Marley sat down in the chair next to him. “How is your steak?”
He glanced up and said softly, “Best I’ve ever had.”
“But you haven’t taken a bite yet. How do you know?”
“I’ve pretty much been on my own since I was twelve, Miss Marley. Anything I don’t have to cook is pure heaven. Besides, the smell tells me I’m in for a treat.” He picked up his fork. “Go eat. I can do this by myself.”
“I’ll keep you company if you don’t mind. I prefer to wait until the crowd thins out, then I eat and clean up the dishes.”
He cut off a bite of steak and stuck it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and paused for a second as though to savor the taste. “This is perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Why did Hardy Gage say that about you cleaning?” he asked, chewing.
“I suppose there’s no harm in you knowing.” She wrinkled her nose and sighed. “I have this need for keeping things neat and tidy. I get teased a lot.”
She didn’t know how to take Roan’s stare, but the intensity made her pulse race. Or maybe it was the way a few wispy pieces of hair curled over the neck of his long johns.
Finally, he said, “Should I be worried? I mean you might take a notion to tie a dish towel around my neck to catch the crumbs I drop.”
“Good heavens no. I won’t bother you. I promise.” But before she knew it, she leaned to pick up a paper fragment on the floor, a corner of a page from her notebook.
Roan shook his head. “I see what they mean.”
Oh dear. She sat on her hands. “You truly did enjoy Matthew’s…Matt’s…company?”
“The boy’s extremely bright. He gave me a feel for this ranch.”
“I have to say, he idolizes you now. I don’t know what you two talked about, but you completely won him over.” She glanced at Roan’s plate. Judging by how fast the food was disappearing, he’d been starving. No telling how long it had been since he’d eaten his fill.
Roan laughed. “I’ll take the blame for the name change. I started calling him Matt when I was teasing him, and I think it stuck. I might’ve taken things too far. I just wanted him to feel special, you know? Kids don’t get to feel special very often. From what I gather, he’s not had it easy so far. He talked about getting whippings, and since he flat assured me that doesn’t happen here, I could only assume it was before he came.”
“Poor kid. Mama found him sleeping outdoors with the dogs. His mother had died and someone shot and killed
his no-good father—his body was still slumped over the kitchen table. I think the smell had driven Matthew outside. Why are so many kids left alone in the world?”
Sorrow rippled across Roan’s face. “When you figure that out, I’d like to know.” He stuck another bite into his mouth.
Marley rose to get the coffeepot, and when she leaned to pour, her hair dangled, brushing his shoulder. Roan shifted in his chair and tried to give her a smile. She didn’t think it made him uncomfortable but she needed to watch that or he’d get the wrong idea.
He had almost finished when the door opened and Marley’s father strode in. “Did you eat, Papa?” she asked.
“Not yet. I wanted to check on our patient. I have to say I’m glad you came around. We were worried about you.” Duel pulled out a chair, and Marley poured him a cup of coffee.
“Sorry to worry anyone.” Roan laid down his fork. “Thank you for taking me in, sir.”
“I’m not sir. I’m Duel. And I never was much good at letting people die.” Duel propped his elbows on the table. “I’d like to hear what happened and why someone came near to killing you.”
Marley leaned forward a bit so as not to miss a word, moving back to her place when her father scowled. He let her know when she got overzealous, as she so often did. She reckoned she could hear well enough where she was, but her gaze never left Roan Penny’s pitiful face.
Roan grimaced. “I reckon some people took exception to me breathing the same air. I was staying with a farmer friend of mine when a half dozen hooded riders galloped up to the cabin. They accused him of being a squatter and wouldn’t listen to his assurance that he had a deed.” Roan paused to gather himself. “They shot and killed him, then laid into me when I tried to fight back. Then they roped and dragged me behind a horse.”
“How did I find you on our road?” Marley asked. “San Saba is thirty miles away.”
“After they finished teaching me a lesson—as they called it—they threw me on the back of a horse, and best I could tell, we rode most of the night. I was in and out of consciousness.” Roan stared out the window into the blackness. “They warned me that if I ever go back, they’ll kill me.” His bruised jaw was squared when he swung his glance to Duel. “I’m going back even if I have to walk so I can bury Mose Mozeke. Then I’ll get my horse, presuming they haven’t shot or stolen her. After that, I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to walk, son. When you feel up to traveling, I’ll loan you a horse. But on one condition,” Duel said.
“What’s that?”
“I’m coming with you. Whoever did this may be lurking around, and you’re in no shape to give them a fight. So I’m giving you no choice. You want a horse, you get me along with it.”
Marley glanced from the set lines in her father’s face to Roan’s irritated scowl. Duel’s eyes flashed, and it seemed like he was burning for the chance to get a little justice. She hadn’t seen that kind of anger in her father for a long while now. The rustlers bore at least part of the blame.
Her gaze shifted to Roan and his obvious struggle with the choice Duel had given him.
“That’s the deal?” Roan asked tightly. “I can do this by myself.”
Duel McClain leaned back in the chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Those are my terms.”
Roan was quiet a minute as he mulled everything over. “I want to leave in the morning.”
Marley’s breath caught. There was no way he’d be able to ride any distance, never mind thirty miles.
“Nope. You’re not up to it yet.” Duel leaned forward again and propped his elbows on the table. “You can’t even sit in a chair good, much less a horse.”
The minutes ticked by in silence. Finally, Roan said quietly, “Begging your pardon, sir, I don’t think you know me well enough to say what I’m able to do. My friend is rotting in the sun. Nothing else is important.”
“I reckon not. Something like that, they’d have to chain me to keep me from going.” Duel straightened and stood. “All right. We’ll leave the moment you’ve recovered enough not to fall off the horse. Get some rest, son. You can’t fight your way out of a paper bag right now. Do you have anyone I should let know?”
“Nope.”
“Who claims that your friend was a squatter? A rancher, the railroad, who?”
“Some men came one day and said a rancher named Simmons sent them. They never asked to see a deed or anything. Nor did they produce one. They just snarled that the land belonged to Simmons. Funny thing though, there is no rancher by that name.”
Marley’s heart thudded against her ribs, and her blood turned to ice.
Anger deepened the lines of Duel’s face. “Not the first time this has happened. It’s outright theft. And now this group has added murder to the list. Doing something about it will be hard.” Duel hooked his thumbs on his gun belt. “The commitment on your face tells me you won’t rest until you set the record straight. I’ll help you all I can.”
“Before you go, I have a question for you. Your daughter told me about the rustlers that have been bothering you. Hardy Gage said you tracked them to the river. Mind me asking whereabouts on the river?” Roan ran his finger around the rim of his coffee cup.
“Tracked the herd to Brown County, but we lost them at the Colorado. The bastards took three hundred head this time.” Duel pierced Roan with a stare. “If you know anything about this, you’d best tell me.”
“Wish I did. I’d like to say it was the same bunch that killed Mose, but the two things happened a long way apart. Could be henchmen of theirs, I guess. Made a two-pronged attack.”
Fear crawled up Marley’s spine. If the two crimes were related, if the rustlers were part of something bigger, they could be in for a fight like she’d never seen. She’d keep the children near just in case, and she wished she could do the same with Roan Penny. Everything inside her screamed that he wasn’t ready. At least her father had insisted he recover more.
But then what? Something said Roan wouldn’t be near enough ready to ride a week from now, yet she knew he couldn’t afford to wait that long. His friend needed burying.
In the quiet of the room, she realized the doves had fallen silent as well. Their vigil must be over. But what happened now?
What would Roan find when he went back? Would he find his revenge—or his own death?
Six
The following day, Roan tried his best to stay awake longer, but sleep robbed him of much of the sunlight hours. Maybe it was guilt that he hadn’t left to bury Mose or that he missed the friend’s company, but he dreamed of him a lot. The old man was as close to family as he had, and an ache throbbed inside that he wouldn’t see his smile or hear his words of wisdom anymore.
Finally, his dry mouth and empty stomach protested. The sound of Marley tiptoeing about the darkened room forced his eyes open.
“Could I trouble you for a minute, Miss Marley?”
“Oh dear, did I wake you?”
“No. What time is it?”
“Four o’clock in the afternoon.” The sound of a closing drawer reached him. Marley moved to the side of his bed.
“Why didn’t you throw some cold water on me or slap me good and hard? I need to get up and around.” He tried to toss the covers back but found he was too weak.
“Roan, sleep was the best thing for you. You have to let your body heal or you’ll never make it to bury your friend. Are you thirsty? Maybe you can eat a bite to tide you until supper.”
“Do you have any coffee? If not, I’ll take a glass of water. And maybe a fried egg.”
“It’ll only take a minute. Would you like to sit up while I fix it?”
“I hate to be such a bother, but it would be nice to sit up.”
She put her arm through his up by the shoulder and pulled. Together, they propped him against the headboard, but he was drenc
hed in sweat by the time he got situated. He was appalled by the amount of strength he’d lost. Duel was right—he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.
“There. I’ll be back with some food and that coffee.” She raised the shades to let in the light, then left the room.
A windmill creaked beyond the walls of the house. He’d always loved the sound. His vision had cleared some, and he could make out a few things in the room that clearly defined Marley’s space. An easel in the corner. Several paintings were on the wall—landscapes best he could tell. Frilly curtains on the windows. A pretty quilt covered him. A glance at the chair beside the bed revealed some kind of book lying open as though she’d been interrupted. He recalled a rug of some kind being on the floor when he’d gotten up yesterday. The lady appeared to have made her space comfortable.
Roan again dozed until the sound of footsteps awakened him. It made him mad that he couldn’t stay awake for two minutes.
“Here’s your coffee. I’ll bring the food when it’s ready.” Marley handed him a cup. Their hands brushed when he took it, and he felt a jolt at the contact. “I’m glad you took our advice to heart. Getting rest is the only way you’ll be able to do what you must.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t make lying here any easier. Buzzards and who knows what else are picking the flesh from my friend.” Roan blew on the coffee and took a sip, finding the liquid exactly what he needed.
“You’ll get there soon. Try not to let it prey on your mind.”
Yeah, well, that was easier said than done.
He changed the subject. “Judging from what I can see, you’ve made a nice home here.”
“Thank you. I like having my own space.”
“I noticed the easel. Yours?”
