by Linda Broday
Doan’s droopy mustache followed the man’s head as it wagged from side to side. “I can’t figure you out. I saw the gunplay and every bit of it was that young upstart’s fault. Most anyone would leave him where he fell. That was a nice thing you did. Mind telling me why?”
“I’d want someone to do that for me.” Luke’s voice was quiet.
“Well, it was more than the fool deserved.” Doan went to the back for a shovel and handed it to Luke. “You have some of the best reflexes I’ve seen, Weston.”
The store owner leaned to yank Luke’s wanted poster off the wall and wadded it up. “A U.S. Marshal put that up. He’ll get nothing from me.”
“Appreciate it,” Luke said. “I’ll bury the dead man a good ways off.”
“Obliged. Anything else?”
“Information. Did you see what happened to my partner, about this tall?” Luke indicated Josie’s height by a hand to his chin. “He was among the crowd but has disappeared.”
“He?” Doan looked puzzled. “Oh, you mean the boy.” Below his shaggy eyebrows came a knowing wink.
“Yes.”
“A little girl about five or six years old ran up and yanked on his hand. The child said something and the two of ’em took off toward the ferry.”
“Thanks, Doan. I’ll return the shovel.”
“No hurry. Glad to help.”
Luke’s thoughts whirled as he left. Where could Josie have gone? He was fairly certain she didn’t know anyone here. He frowned. Unless her memory had returned and the child was someone familiar. Doc had said it could all come back in a rush.
Or maybe she went back to the squatter’s shack. But why would a child take her there? Since they’d packed up everything that morning, there was nothing there that Josie would need. It didn’t make sense.
Dark foreboding filled him.
Lawmen at work could be the answer. They could’ve used a child to lure Josie away from the crowd where they could arrest her without a scene.
He patted her horse—the roan—and prayed he’d find her. Though he’d been alone for much of his life, this time was different. This time the loss shattered everything inside him. He suddenly realized how truly broken he was. Somehow Josie had kept him glued together.
He needed her. The sweet, funny, temperamental Josie was his light in the darkness. And she had vanished.
His hands were unsteady as he lifted O’Keefe and slung him across Major John’s rump.
A short while later, he reined to a stop in front of the shack. Everything was eerily quiet. There were no signs inside that Josie had been anywhere near the place since this morning. He’d throw some dirt on Munroe O’Keefe and search for her.
After picking a spot, he plunged the shovel into the packed dirt. Sweat poured. He didn’t know how much time had passed but it seemed like he’d dug for hours and the grave still wasn’t deep enough. It would do, he decided. O’Keefe wouldn’t complain.
Luke was drenched by the time he covered the would-be fast-draw with dirt. He tied the shovel to his black gelding and grabbed the roan. He scoured every bit of the area, turned over every rock, and even inquired at the ferry if she’d boarded. Everywhere he turned, he was met with a dead end.
Finally, he returned to the trading post.
Doan greeted him with a smile and a shake of the head. He still hadn’t seen Josie.
Luke thanked him and moved toward the door when he suddenly turned. “Just curious…five days ago when that man was murdered, did you hear or see anything?”
“That I did. I had just closed up and was heading home when I heard the awfullest commotion. Two men—one in a wagon, the other on a horse, were talking. Looked pretty serious. Not one to buy trouble, I went on toward my house and had about reached the door when three riders showed up. One man leaped from his horse into the wagon, then all hell broke loose. There was even a woman there, yelling and cussing up a storm. I’ve never seen the like.”
Had to have been Josie. But where had she come from? The wagon, or one of the horses?
“You didn’t see her there before that?” Luke asked. “What did she look like?”
“Nope, I didn’t see her until then, there in the wagon. She was real pretty, best I could tell, with long blond hair. I started down there to ask the troublemakers to ride on when the woman screamed, then suddenly went silent.”
Doan paused to wait on a customer. When he came back, Luke prompted, “Tell me the rest.”
Doan rubbed his bristly jaw. “I’m still trying to figure out in my mind what happened next. Everything was a blur and it was nighttime, mind you. The thin moonlight made it hard to make things out.”
“Please try. This is important,” Luke said. Before he could help Josie, he needed to know the facts, and Jonathan Doan was unbiased.
“Everyone started moving at once—the riders, the wagons, and two pack mules.”
Luke frowned. “You didn’t mention the pack mules or a second wagon.”
Doan scratched his head. “I just now remembered them. Strange that I forgot. They came out of nowhere, maybe from one of the camps down by the river.”
“And then what?”
“I didn’t see hide nor hair of the woman anymore. There was a gunshot and everyone lit out of here, and that’s when I saw the dead man lying in the road next to his wagon.”
“The ex-congressman?”
“Yes. So they tell me. Very gruesome. Someone had stuck a knife in his gut, and there was no saving him. By the time I got there, he was already dead.”
“What happened to the rider who was talking to him? Was he shot?”
Another customer entered and took Doan’s attention. While the store owner took care of the drover, Luke went over everything in his mind.
Brenner hadn’t told him the truth about Josie. She hadn’t ridden in with him at all. What was he hiding? If she hadn’t been on a horse, that meant she was in the back of Walt Preston’s wagon, out of sight.
Odd that he hadn’t seen Brenner McCall today. He wondered if the stove-up outlaw had moved on, or just changed hidey-holes.
Brenner was the least of his concerns right now, though. Josie could be in trouble, could be headed to a filthy jail cell. In his mind, he could hear her calling his name, begging for help. Wondering why he didn’t come.
When Doan returned, he said he hadn’t seen where the fellow with Preston had gone and didn’t know if the bullet hit anyone or not. Luke thanked him and left. He swung into the saddle and headed toward the ferry with the roan in tow.
Twenty-one
When the little girl had tugged on Josie’s hand in the crowd and begged for help, Josie hadn’t hesitated. Now she hurried with the child—who said her name was Lucy—and worried. She didn’t know how much aid she could give, but she’d try.
The thought that this could be a trap entered her mind. Lawmen could be using Lucy to capture her. She rested her hand on the butt of her pistol. Her heart ached with a need to know if O’Keefe had killed Luke. What if the man who’d suffered more than any person she’d ever seen lay dead in the red Texas dirt?
She didn’t think she could bear that torment.
Even if he’d killed O’Keefe, he had to be wondering what had happened to her. Damn! She should’ve told someone. She had to hurry and get back.
“How much farther to your mother, Lucy?”
The red-haired girl glanced up. Her tight pigtails had bent and stuck out at odd angles and she sported a row of freckles that marched across her cheeks and nose like little soldiers. “We’re almost there.”
They’d turned right about half a mile north of the trading post and trudged downstream through high grass and brush. She should’ve taken time to get her horse. Only she hadn’t known how far they had to go.
“Good. Tell me again what’s wrong with your mother.”
&nb
sp; Lucy faced her and turned both palms up. “She’s having a baby.”
“Oh.” When Lucy had run up at the trading post, she’d simply said her mama was ailing bad. What did Josie know about childbirth? Probably enough to fill a thimble. Maybe not even that much. “Where’s your pa, Lucy?”
“Don’t know. He left a long time ago and didn’t come back. He might be dead. He promised he’d be back when the baby was coming, but he isn’t.” Lucy wrung her hands. “I didn’t know what to do and Mama doesn’t want a man touching her. She said for me to get a woman. You were the onliest I found.”
They pushed through the overgrowth on the river’s edge and stood in front of a house that appeared to be made of sticks. The place blended into the landscape so well she could have missed it.
“We’re here!” Lucy ran through a door. “Mama, I brought help.”
Yeah, only the woman might be in worse shape when she saw how little help Josie would be. She squared her shoulders and went inside the dim dwelling. Light through the doorway revealed only one spotless room that consisted of a bed, a small wood-burning stove, a table, and little else. She wondered where Lucy slept. Apparently with her mother or on the sloping wood floor.
Lucy took Josie’s hand and pulled her to the bed. “Make it come out,” she pleaded. “It’s been too long.”
Josie took the word “it” to mean the baby. How did someone make a baby come out? Did you push or pull?
The sweat-soaked woman tried to smile but it ended up a grimace. She suddenly screamed and reached behind to grip the iron bedstead. Josie stood, unsure of what exactly to do.
Water. She needed water. At least she could bathe the mother’s face.
“Do you have water?” she asked.
Lucy pointed to a bucket. “You know what to do, don’t you?”
Josie chewed her lip. “Not exactly.”
“You’re a woman. Women should know about babies ’n’ things.” The girl’s hands planted on her hips didn’t make Josie know more than she did.
The realization that she hadn’t been a midwife or even anything resembling one in her past crossed her mind. Nor had she been a mother, and that brought a deep pang.
“I think it’s something you sorta have to learn.” Josie gave Lucy her sunniest smile, picked up a cloth, and dipped it in the bucket. She grabbed hold of resolve that was cowering inside and asked, “How old are you, anyway?”
“Six and a half.”
How could she be this young? Miss Bossy Butt acted and talked much older than Josie.
The little girl propped her elbows on the mattress. “At first I thought you was a boy. But then someone knocked into you and your hat came off.” Lucy’s eyes were round. “Why do you want to dress like a boy? My pa said boys have cooties. Do you have cooties?”
Josie bathed the woman’s face. “No, absolutely not.”
Lucy frowned. “How come you wear that gun? Do you kill people?”
“I wear it to feel safe.” As for killing people? The girl would get even more confused if Josie said she didn’t know. Maybe she could just ignore that part. Thankfully, the suffering woman came to her rescue.
“Lucy, quit pestering,” the woman said. She smiled at Josie. “Sorry about all this. I’m Ada. You’ll have to excuse my daughter. I’m obliged for your help.”
“I’m Josie. And I don’t know how much I can offer, but I’ll do my best. I follow directions really well.” She pictured Luke’s stern look through narrowed eyes and amended, “Pretty well. So, if you’ll tell me what to do, I’ll do it.”
Lucy crawled up next to her mother and laid a hand on the swollen tummy. “Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll tell her what to do.” She cocked her head, fixing a stare at Josie. “You gotta find a sharp knife.”
Josie felt the blood drain from her face. She couldn’t kill this baby. Lucy might not want a new brother or sister but she’d just have to learn to accept the little thing. “They’re not so bad once you get to know them,” she squeaked. “You’ll come to love this little person if you give it a chance.”
Ada panted as more pains came. “The knife is to cut the baby’s cord.”
“Oh.”
Lucy’s face screwed up in a frown. “Don’t you know anything?”
“It so happens I do.” Some things. A few things. Apparently, not a whole lot about this. “How did you know to get a knife, anyway? Kids aren’t supposed to touch sharp objects.”
“Mama told me all about it just in case I couldn’t find help. ’Sides, I helped last week to get Mrs. Faraday’s baby out.” Lucy patted her mama’s huge belly, giving Josie a look that said she wished she’d found someone with more smarts.
So did Josie. After fumbling around in the small kitchen, she located a knife and scrubbed the blade clean. Her hands trembled. She had to find a way to somehow manage. Behind her came grunts and anguished cries.
“You can do this. You can do this,” she said to herself in hopes of bolstering her courage.
By the time she returned, Lucy was gripping her mother’s hand and telling her to hurry up. Then Ada screeched, “It’s coming! Get down there. Tell me what you see.”
Fear dried the spit in Josie’s mouth. With her heart pounding, she quickly followed Ada’s request. Her heart thudding against her ribs, Josie did everything the woman told her and the minutes crept by. Then amid the loudest screams and grunts she’d ever heard, Josie found herself holding a newborn. A little boy.
He was slippery and blue. And silent.
Damn her ignorance! What was she supposed to do now? And Ada had passed out.
“Now you hafta put your fingers inside the mouth and take some stuff out,” Lucy instructed. “Hurry. Then you gotta spank the baby real hard.”
Oh, heaven above. Why? It seemed cruel to spank the little thing simply for being born.
She glanced at Ada’s pale face for confirmation. But the woman was unconscious. The outcome was up to Josie.
She was out of her element but she knew she had to act fast. She could do this. A life depended on her. With fear of failing washing over her, she laid the baby down and slid trembling fingers into the newborn’s mouth to clear his throat.
“Now, hold the baby upside down and give it a good swat,” Lucy said. “You gotta make him cry. Hurry.”
“Yes, Lucy. I pray you’re right.” Josie did, but not very hard. She couldn’t. Still no cry.
“Hit it harder!” Lucy yelled.
Josie delivered another slap on the buttocks, harder this time, and the newest member of the family gave a pitiful cry that sounded more like a lamb’s bleat. Joy filled her. She grinned. She’d saved a life rather than taken one. Her. And quite possibly for the first time.
She wrapped the tiny boy and laid him next to his mother. She wished Ada would come around.
Lucy pursed her lips and passed her some string and the knife. The girl was as cool and calm as a blue winter sky. She’d make a good general. “Gotta tie it off and cut that cord. Jesus, it’s sure long!”
“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Lucy,” Josie scolded, panting. She licked her lips and stared at the line connecting the baby to Ada. She gulped. “Where?”
“Tie a piece of string here and here.” Ada indicated where with her fingers. “You cut in the middle.”
Miss Bossy leaned close to observe and keep her on task. Josie felt as though she’d face dire consequences if she didn’t pass the test. And who’s to say what failing would do? She didn’t know enough to argue.
Minutes sped by until finally she breathed a sigh of relief. Miss Bossy Butt handed her a towel to catch the blood. Then a whole bunch of other stuff came out of Ada, which required several more towels.
Ada finally came around and took the baby in her arms. “I’m sorry for conking out on you, Josie. I’m glad you were here.”
�
�We almost lost him, Mama,” Lucy announced, quite the voice of authority.
Josie slumped to the floor, totally exhausted. After a short rest, she rose and busied herself making Ada comfortable. She fed her and Lucy a light meal and began the cleanup. She knew how to do that.
Miss Bossy of course oversaw everything. When Josie asked her to help, Lucy informed her she was just a kid.
Yeah, a very spoiled kid at that.
With the chores finished, Josie took the baby boy from his sleeping mother’s side and gently cleaned him. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a more beautiful baby. Swaddling him, she held him close. A feeling of happiness and longing swelled in her heart.
She wanted a child—Luke Weston’s child.
What kind of father would he make?
Watching him with Sierra and Sam’s baby two days ago told her he wanted a child too, and he’d protect it fiercely.
Memories of their lovemaking filled her thoughts. A feeling of the familiar, such as when she’d held the gun, stole over her. She’d made love before. With someone.
Who? Had she loved him? Was he waiting for her?
Lucy plopped down beside her and gave her a nudge. “I want to hold my brother.”
“That’s an excellent idea.” Josie made the transfer and sat back.
A change came over the bossy little girl. Lucy fussed and cooed and kissed on her brother, telling him she’d always look after him and they’d go fishing and digging for worms and steal away on a boat and have all kinds of fun.
Josie’s throat tightened. This was love in its purest form. She hoped when she discovered her past she would find a brother or sister who’d doted on her the same way.
The sun was on the waning side of the afternoon. Luke would be frantic. She told Lucy she had to go and stood.
“No, wait!” the girl cried. Handing the baby to Josie, she told her to lay him next to her dozing mama and come outside with her.
“All right, but just for a minute.” After laying the baby next to Ada, Josie followed Lucy to a lean-to in the back where her father probably kept his horse. “What is it?”
