Sunny blinked away her useless tears.
The men from the posse dismounted and gathered around Tom and Larry at the barn. No one seemed to notice Sunny when she stepped out the door and joined them.
“You sure?” Tom was asking the deputy.
Deputy Collins spit against the nearest corral post. “It ain’t a thing to be confused about.”
“It was them, all right,” said Erik Sutherland. “Every last one of ‘em, with their throats slit like so many hogs on butcherin’ day.”
Sunny gulped at the picture Erik’s words brought to mind.
“Every one of them,” he added, “except the bastard that done in the boss.”
It was then that Tom spotted her. “Miss Sunny.”
She swallowed again and faced Erik. “They were…dead?”
Erik whipped his hat off and ducked his head. “Yes ma’am. All but one.”
“The one who shot my father?”
“Yes ma’am. He got clean away. I’m sorry, Miss Sunny. We lost his trail in the rocks.”
“You sure he’s the one who got away?” Tom asked.
“Sure certain,” Erik said. “Had on silver spurs. Not steel ner brass, but silver. Last man I saw in these parts with silver spurs was that fancy, rich Mex who came through last year. No sir, I’d know those spurs, and the man wearin’ ‘em, any day.”
The men fell silent.
Erik shuffled his feet and curled the brim of his hat. “Besides, he had gray hair. The dead men didn’t. And he was kinda old looking to be riding around robbin’ banks.”
With her mind on what Erik had said, Sunny invited the posse to rest and water their horses.
Old looking. Gray hair. Silver spurs. And stiff knees. Erik had just described the man with the stiff knees! The man who had tried to kill her. The man who had purposely ridden back and shot Ash McCord.
Sunny shivered. What was happening to the world, she wondered, when an armed gang could ride into town one day and change the course of her life—so may lives—so drastically? They stole money belonging to honest, hard-working families. They killed her father. They crippled Ash McCord. They shot the sheriff.
And now they even killed each other.
Sunny shook herself and headed back to the house. There was nothing she could do about the man who had gotten away. He was long gone by now and surely would never show his face in Cottonwood Crossing again.
It was time to see to those left behind. She would go to town tomorrow. She would face Ash McCord. Somehow, she had to let him know how grateful she was for his actions, and how sorry she was for their effect on him.
But she didn’t make it to town the next day. During the night a freak ice storm howled in. A Norther. A cold, Blue Norther. At sunup the next morning the entire world was covered with more than a half-inch of solid sheet ice. The mercury in the front porch thermometer shivered at twelve degrees below zero.
For the next five days the temperature remained below zero.
Sunny chafed at the enforced delay. Once she’d made up her mind to see Ash McCord, she wanted to get it done.
But there was no way to travel in the frigid weather. Not if she wanted to keep all her fingers and toes. Collecting eggs and taking water to the chickens three times a day was bad enough, and the coop was only a dozen yards from the house. If it hadn’t been so bitterly cold, if the water hadn’t frozen solid so swiftly, if the eggs wouldn’t have frozen right in their shells, she wouldn’t have gone out so often.
She worried about the men. They were all in the bunkhouse, thank God, and not out on the range, but the bunkhouse, with its attached cook shack, wasn’t as well-built as the main house. Not as sturdy. Not as snug. Tom came twice a day to check on her and the girls, and on their supply of firewood. He assured her the men were fine. She worried anyway.
Eight days after the ice blew in, Sunny woke to the sound of water dripping from the roof. She left within an hour of seeing the girls off to school. And worried all the way to town about what to say to Ash McCord.
By the time she reached Cottonwood Crossing the air had warmed so much she had to unbutton her heavy coat. The ice was disappearing everywhere the sun touched it. Disappearing, turning to water, muddying up the road but good.
She was tempted to go on down to Miller’s Mercantile first and sell her eggs. But no, that would only be putting off the real purpose of her trip. She assumed Mr. McCord was still staying at Ella’s, so she left the wagon and team, and her eggs, at the livery and forced herself to go directly to the boardinghouse.
As she walked to the door, she tugged her scarf off and tucked it into her coat pocket. When she removed her gloves, her palms were damp. Surely it was because the gloves were too heavy for the warming temperature, not because she was nervous.
But she was nervous, she realized a moment later. It took real effort to knock on the weathered door. She still had no idea what to say to him.
What could she say to a man who may never walk again because he was shot saving her life? “Thank you, Mr. McCord for putting yourself between me and that bullet. I’m so sorry you’ll never walk again.”
He probably didn’t even want to see her. He probably regretted rushing out into the street that day. He probably hated the very thought of her.
Maybe coming to see him wasn’t such a good idea. She picked at a sliver of paint curling away from the door frame. Maybe she should just take her eggs to—
The door before her swung open. The daunting sight of Widow Conners, dressed in black, greeted her. Widow Conners had dressed in black every day of her life since before Sunny had met her. She wore her widowhood like a badge of honor.
The woman looked at Sunny, blinked twice, then raised her brows until they almost reached her hairline. “Why, Sunny, what a…surprise. I never dreamed you’d come calling so soon after your poor father’s death. And aren’t you the brave one,” she claimed, her gaze whipping Sunny’s length and back, her brows dropping into a frown.
“Brave?” Sunny asked.
“So brave, my dear, to honor your father’s last wishes by dressing the way you do.” She clucked like an old biddy and shook her head. “Oh, yes, I heard all about him not wanting you to wear black. I just never dreamed a young girl like yourself would have the strength of will and…courage, yes, that’s what it takes—courage—to shun convention and bear the criticism of a whole town for not wearing black.” She smoothed a hand down the side of her skirt. Sunny fought the childish urge to stick her tongue out. “I’ll swan, I just would never have the nerve,” Widow Conners went on, “no matter what my departed loved one had asked. You’re so brave.”
Sunny took a deep breath and tried to force a smile. “Thank you, ma’am.” I think.
“Where are my manners? Come in, Sunny, come in. Wasn’t that ice just horrid? Why, poor, dear Ella slipped and fell on it the first day. Broke her arm, she did.”
“Was it very bad? Is she all right?”
“She’s still in some pain, the poor thing, but she’s doing better. Of course, it never would have happened if she had taken my advice. ‘Let the rotten scoundrel starve,’ I told her. ‘It’s no more than he deserves.’ But would she listen to me? To Sheriff Jamison? No.” She shook her head. “She had to go out on that treacherous ice to take him his dinner. With a linen napkin and everything! Why, if she simply had to feed that no-good, low-down—. Well, hog slop would have been good enough for him. Too good, if you ask me.”
Sunny felt a little dazed. And a little ill. If she had heard correctly, Ella had fallen on the ice and broken her arm while taking dinner to Ash McCord. Who else could Widow Conners be talking about? She’d made no secret week before last about how she felt about him.
But if Ella had been taking him his dinner, that meant he wasn’t here. A shameful shaft of relief shot through her. She wouldn’t have to face him. Not yet.
She’d rather bite off her tongue than ask Widow Conners where he was and how he was. Instead, she asked to see El
la.
“Why of course, dear.” Widow Conners started down the hall and Sunny followed. “I’m sure you’re just what she needs to brighten her spirits.” At the end of the hall she pushed the last door open. “Ella, dear, you have a visitor.”
Sunny stepped into the room. Ella lay in bed, propped up on several pillows, her splinted right arm resting atop the covers.
“Oh, Ella, what have you done to yourself?”
“Sunny.” Ella smiled. “What a pleasant surprise. It’s so good to see you. Come, sit and visit. Thank you, Elizabeth,” she said to Widow Conners.
Sunny smiled at Widow Conners, who smiled stiffly in return. The woman evidently knew a dismissal when she heard one.
“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.” The woman left, purposefully leaving the door ajar.
Sunny turned back to Ella. “Your poor arm. How terrible. Widow Conners said you fell on the ice?”
Ella grimaced. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? A woman my age falling down. I was coming home from taking Asher his dinner. My feet just flew right out from under me.” She gestured with her good arm. “Embarrassing as the dickens, I tell you. At least a half dozen people saw me.”
Sunny pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the picture in her mind of Ella, feet and skirts flying all directions, with an avid audience looking on. It really wasn’t the least funny. The poor woman had broken her arm, after all. But at the sight of Ella’s quirking lips, Sunny lost her battle. She and Ella both broke out in laughter.
Sunny finally calmed. “I’m sorry, Ella, I know it must have been terribly painful. I didn’t mean to laugh.”
“Yes you did. And it’s good to see you laugh. I’m proud of you for not hibernating away at home after your father’s passing. It’s good for you to get away and come to town. How are the girls doing?”
Sunny shrugged. “All right, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“You know Amy. Nothing keeps her down for long. And Katy’s so strong, she’s doing fine.” Sunny paused.
“What about Rachel?”
“I don’t know.” Sunny sighed and looked across Ella’s bed and out the window. “She’s not accepting it at all.”
Ella frowned. “How so? Does she cry?”
“Oh, no.” Sunny shifted her gaze back to Ella. “She’s not sad or anything. She’s…adamant. She heard someone say Daddy was resting in peace. As far as she’s concerned, when he has rested enough, he’ll come home.”
Ella nodded as if in agreement. “Denying what’s happened is some people’s way of avoiding the pain of the truth.” She gave Sunny a sad smile. “She’ll admit it one day, but not until she’s ready.” After a moment, she asked, “And how about you?”
“I’m all right,” Sunny said. “I miss Daddy something fierce, though. It doesn’t seem like I’ll ever stop missing him. Three mornings this week I had coffee brewing before I remembered there wasn’t anyone to drink it anymore.”
They were quiet for a moment. From down the hall came the squeaking of the rocker in the front parlor. Finally Ella said, “When my Robert passed on, I actually used to light up one of his cigars just to feel closer to him. I won’t say it will pass. You’ll always miss him, just as I’ll always miss Robert, but it does get easier, Sunny, somehow.”
Sunny blinked the moisture from her eyes. “Thank you for telling me that.” She smiled. “I don’t feel quite so silly now, because I actually drank some of that coffee.”
Ella chuckled. A moment later she said, “Is something else bothering you?”
Sunny felt heat sting her cheeks. She studied the way the fringe on the bottom of the bedspread swayed and jerked with each of Ella’s slight movements. She tried to gather her thoughts. And her courage. Finally she said, “You’d been to see Mr. McCord when you broke your arm?”
When Ella didn’t answer right away Sunny looked up. The woman was watching her with a slight frown. “Yes,” she said finally. “Why do you ask?”
Sunny swallowed and smoothed her skirt with damp hands. “I just…I guess I thought he’d be staying here, like he was before the robbery.” There. She’d said it. She looked away in relief.
“He would be, but Doctor Sneed didn’t want to move him just yet.” After another long moment of silence, Ella said, “Were you wanting to see him?”
Sunny swallowed again, then nodded. “I wanted to thank him for what he did. If he hadn’t been trying to save me, he wouldn’t have gotten shot.” She closed her eyes and felt again his warm, safe weight covering her, protecting her. Heard the shot. Felt him flinch. A picture of his pale, still form lying in Doctor Sneed’s office played in her mind. She forced herself to meet Ella’s steady gaze, “Is it true what Widow Conners said that day? Will he really never walk again?”
“And if it is?”
Sunny squeezed her eyes shut against the sick feeling in her stomach. “Then I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself.”
“You don’t—. Why, Sunshine Thornton, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You are not to blame for him getting shot.”
Sunny’s eyes flew open.
Ella spoke firmly. “You didn’t ask him to rush out and save you anymore than you asked those men to rob the bank. The only one to blame for Asher’s current predicament is the man who pulled the trigger.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Will he ever walk again? Will he, Ella?”
“And if he can’t? How would you feel about him then? I’m not asking how you’d feel about yourself.” Ella waved her good arm. “You’ve already told me that. How would you feel about him?”
Sunny looked at Ella and felt her cheeks heat up again. Now why in the world should she be blushing over a question like that? “I’m not sure what you mean. I barely know him.”
“But you know he’s been in prison, and you know why. You know what most people in town think of him. I’m asking what you think of him.”
“I…don’t know, really. Whenever I think of him, I always remember he saved my life.” She thought of the first time she saw him, of the way they met, and smiled. “I almost have to like anyone who likes Amy, don’t I?”
Rather than smiling, as Sunny expected her to, Ella frowned. “Well, in answer to your question, Doctor Sneed thinks there’s every chance Asher will be good as new before long. But he won’t know for sure until the internal swelling goes down. He believes that if he exercises Asher’s legs for him until the feeling returns, if it returns, that his muscles and joints won’t have time to quit working. He says this is all new, and there’s a heap of controversy over it among the few doctors who try it, but he thinks Asher has a good chance.”
“Then why do you look so worried?”
Ella sighed and motioned to her broken arm. “Since I did this to myself I haven’t be able to go down there and see him. The sheriff arranged for someone else to take Asher his meals. On top of that, the doctor got stuck out at the Ormsby’s place during the ice storm and didn’t get back ‘til this morning. Knowing how this town feels about Asher, I’m just worried that he hasn’t been getting very good care.”
Concern and affection for McCord were evident in Ella’s every word. “You like him a great deal, don’t you?”
“Yes, I like him a great deal. His mother was my best friend.” She smiled briefly, then sobered. “Are you going to go see him?”
Sunny took a deep breath. “That’s why I came to town. I had to know—. And too, I wanted to thank him for what he did for me.”
“Would you mind some advice from an old busybody who likes to stick her nose in where it doesn’t belong?”
With a laugh, Sunny said, “Sure.”
“Don’t think about his past, what he’s done or hasn’t done, where he’s been these last five years. Just look at what kind of man he is, and if you must judge him, judge him by that.”
“Who am I to judge him?”
Ella smiled and sent her on her way. S
unny said her good-byes to Ella and Widow Conners, squared her shoulders, and headed down the street to the doctor’s office.
The sidewalks and streets were crowded. Apparently everyone was out celebrating the thaw and taking care of business that had been forced to wait during the ice. Sunny smiled and nodded greetings to those she passed.
She stopped outside the door to Doctor Sneed’s office. The sign in his window said “Come In.” She wiped her damp palms on her skirt.
How are you, Mr. McCord?
That would do for starters, but then what?
I was coming to town anyway, and just thought—
No. That made it sound like he wasn’t important enough to merit a special trip. Yet she didn’t particularly want him or anyone else to know her egg delivery, which she hadn’t even made yet, was just an excuse.
I thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing. I brought you this—
Thunderation. She should have brought something. But what was the appropriate gift to give a man who took a bullet in the back while protecting her?
Before she could chicken out and leave, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The little brass bell overhead jingled.
“Make yourself at home,” Doc called out from the other side of the partially closed door to his examining room. “Be with you in a few minutes.”
Sunny heard another voice, too low to identify, then Doc’s mumbled answer. Too nervous to sit, she paced the short length of the room and back, slapping her gloves against her skirt, trying desperately to keep her eyes away from the table just visible through the cracked door.
The table where her father—
Don’t think about it.
Somewhere a crash rang out. Metal against something, she thought. Then she heard a dull thud followed by a man cursing. The sounds came from Doc’s private quarters, down the hall at the opposite end of the waiting room from the examining room.
“You all right in there, McCord?” Doc called out. No answer came. “McCord?”
“Yeah, yeah,” came an irritated reply.
Sunny followed the voice down the hall to Doc’s tiny bedroom. There she halted, appalled at the sight—the mess!—that greeted her. The room was dim and dusty. A dented, tin water pitcher lay on its side on the floor. She traced the trail of water from the pitcher, across the room, up the side of a dirty, ragged blanket that covered more of the floor than it did the bed, to the puddle soaking into the lap of Ash McCord’s faded red flannels. With a disgusted grimace, he picked at the soggy wool.
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