Was that the bell over the door? He sat up, listening as the tinkling drifted to him. No, Missy was playing with some sort of toy.
Since the fever outbreak, Zoe’s business was down to nothing. Lilith had stopped by earlier for ten cents worth of brown sugar. It took him thirty minutes to get loose from her. Then Pop dropped by to announce that, due to the illness, he was canceling Saturday night’s dance until further notice. Cade smiled. Too bad, Banker Drake. Guess you won’t get to dance with Zoe after all.
Patting his stomach, he dozed. Seconds later, soft snores filled the small kitchen.
“You’we going to weally like Uncle Cade, Bud. He didn’t mean to scawe you the othew mowning,” Missy whispered through the holes in the jar lid as she crept into the kitchen. “He said he would play with me anytime I want.”
She gave the jar a shake. “Awe you awake? Bud?” Peering through the glass, she sighed. “Hope you’we not getting that fevew. Zoe will hate to stick that stuff down youw fwoat.” She adjusted the basket of doll dishes and cookies over her arm. “You got a fwoat, Bud?”
As she passed Cade’s chair, she paused. “Ooooh, Uncle Cade is sweeping.” She quietly set her basket on the table. Stepping closer, she stared at her uncle, leaning real close. He was asweep.
Shrugging her shoulders, she unscrewed the lid, carefully lifted Bud from his bed, and placed him on Cade’s chest. “You stay thewe, Bud, while I get things weady fow ouw tea pawty.”
She busied herself preparing the table. She spread a napkin to serve as a tablecloth, and then arranged three tiny cups and saucers around the edge. A stack of ginger cookies complemented the tea service. She stepped back to admire her work. Nudging Cade’s knee, she whispered, “Uncle Cade?”
Cade stirred. “Hmm?”
Missy tiptoed closer and patted his cheek. “Wake up, Uncle Cade. It’s time fow ouw tea pawty.”
“Mumphm.” Cade brushed the air, smacking his lips.
“Uncle Caaade. Wake uuuup.”
Opening an eye, Cade smiled when he saw the intruder. Missy smiled, waving.
Cade’s gaze slid down, and his eyes widened. A tarantula sat in the middle of his chest. The spider’s hairy front legs flexed.
How come every time he woke up, that spider was on his chest!
Bud started creeping toward his face. Cade jerked his feet off the table, the sudden movement causing the chair legs to fly out from under him. He hit the floor with a jarring crash, certain his back was broken.
Bud scurried across the floor and disappeared around the corner.
Missy stomped her foot. “Uncle Cade! You scawed Bud again.”
“Missy, you’re going to have to keep that thing in its jar!” Cade swiped the front of his shirt, shuddering. All those years on the trail, and he’d never once woken with a spider on his chest.
Bud rounded the corner, skittering across the plank floor.
Missy ran and scooped him back into his jar. “It’s all wight, Bud. Uncle Cade likes you. He’s not mean. He won’t scawe you again.”
“I scared him? Missy, that’s a tarantula!”
“Uh-uh.” She puffed. “He’s my bug.”
Cade righted his chair and sank down in it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just that Bud is—”
“Fuzzy?”
“Yes. Heck yes. That too.” He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned back to catch his breath. Missy screwed the lid on Bud’s jar.
“He pwobably needs to west a while,” she said. “He’s tuckewed.” She pushed the jar under Cade’s nose. “Say you’we sowwy, Uncle Cade.”
“Come on, Missy. It’s a bug.”
Her blue eyes pleaded with him.
“Sorry…Bud.” Cade couldn’t believe he was apologizing to a tarantula.
Missy climbed up on his lap and put her arms around his neck. “It’s all wight, Uncle Cade.” She planted a big, noisy kiss on his cheek. “Bud’s not mad at you.”
Good. He wouldn’t lose sleep tonight.
Missy brushed her hand across his cheek. “Awe you weddy for ouw tea pawty?”
He grinned, playing along with her. “A cup of tea would be refreshing, my dear.”
“Okay, and aftew we eat, I’ll fix youw haiw weal pwetty.” Missy scrambled from his lap to perform her hostess’s duties. She poured pretend tea into their cups.
He raised his brows. “My hair, dearest? Is there something wrong with my curly locks?”
Missy giggled. “It looks pwetty shameful, Missus Kolby.”
“Oh, dash,” he trilled. “Then by all means, Miss Wiseman, do something with it. Make me the envy of all Winterborn.”
He picked up his teacup, little finger crooked, and took a loud, slurpy sip, soliciting another round of giggles from Missy.
While she busied herself with his head, he thumbed through the wanted posters and resumed reading. Missy stood on a box behind his chair, carefully rearranging his hair.
“If you had long haiw like you did when you fiwst come hewe, I could bwaid it fow you. Zoe showed me how to make a bwaid with stwips of wags she makes wugs with.” She combed and combed. “But I can still make it look pwetty.”
“Uh-huh, that’s nice.” Cade focused on one particular poster. Hart McGill.
He glanced up as the bell over the front door jingled. Shelby Moore came into the store and walked back to the kitchen.
“Afternoon, Shelby,” Cade greeted.
Shelby’s gaze shot straight to the ceiling.
“Hello, Mistew Moowe.” Missy wedged her tongue between her lips as she meticulously fashioned Cade’s “coif.”
“Afternoon, Missy. Where’s Zoe?”
“At the jail looking aftew sick people.”
“How did you get past the quarantine?” Cade asked.
“What quarantine?”
“The town’s quarantined. We have men at each end of town who are supposed to be turning people away.”
“I didn’t use the road. I took the back fields.”
Cade told him about the sickness, and Shelby shook his head. “I’ll be statin’ my business and leavin’ then.”
Cade’s gaze followed Moore’s to the ceiling again, puzzled by his preoccupation with it. Seeing nothing unusual, he asked, “What brings you out in this heat?”
“Lookin’ for Pop. Found a dead bull near my place. Think it might belong to Herschel Mallard. Pop needs to come check it before I clear away the carcass.”
“I’m taking care of Pop’s business for a few days. Guess you heard he broke his leg the other night?”
“Hadn’t heard that.”
Shelby’s eyes darted around the room, refusing to meet his. Cade wondered if he had a wandering eye.
“I’d sooner Pop take care of the matter.”
Cade frowned. “I can handle it, Shelby—” He glanced at the ceiling again, wondering what the man found so interesting there.
The farmer lowered his gaze to study his shoes. “Where’s Pop?”
“At his place.” Cade got up from his seat. “Give me a minute to find someone to look after Missy, and I’ll check on that carcass.”
Shelby cleared his throat. “Don’t mean no disrespect, Kolby, but I druther Pop do it, if he can a’tall.” He looked down at his feet, swallowing. “Don’t think a man with pink bows in his hair has got any business sheriffin’.”
Cade glanced in the mirror, his eyes widening at the sight of five stiff ponytails standing out from his scalp, each tied with a lopsided pink bow. He yanked the bows out of his hair and slapped his hat on his head. “Missy, run over to Gracie’s while I ride out with Mr. Moore to see about stolen cattle.”
Missy grabbed Bud’s jar and held it close to her chest. “No, no, Uncle Cade! We can’t go to Gwacie’s. Aunt Waticia is thewe!”
Her big, fearful blue eyes tugged at his heart.
“GloriLee could probably use someone to help sweep out the restaurant.”
Missy’s face brightened. “Me and Bud can do that.”
“I think Bud would be more comfortable staying here.”
“Nooo. Aunt Waticia might come and get him and take him home with hew.”
“I don’t think so, Sunflower. I can promise Aunt Laticia will not take Bud home.”
Missy’s bottom lip jutted out and big tears puddled in her eyes. How was he supposed to say no to that? “Okay. You can take him.”
GloriLee was fanning on her front step when Cade brought Missy, skipping at his side, to the café.
“Bringing you some help, GloriLee. Zoe’s at the jail and the other kids are at the livery. I have business to attend to.”
“I can always use more help,” GloriLee said, smiling at Missy.
“I shouldn’t be too long. I’m going out to Shelby’s place to see about a dead bull.”
“Take your time. Folks are in too big a hurry nowadays. Need to slow down a mite.” GloriLee patted the step beside her. “Come up and sit a spell, Missy. I see you got Bud with you. He’s lookin’ mighty spiffy today.”
Missy climbed the steps and sat down, positioning Bud’s jar between her and the café owner. As Cade turned to go Missy waved. “Huwwy back, Uncle Cade! Me and Bud will be waiting fow you!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Shelby, are you sure this is Herschel Mallard’s bull?” Cade squatted by the decomposed carcass, his handkerchief covering his nose.
“That’s Samson, all right. I’d know him anywhere. See that chip outta his hind hoof? Herschel bragged about it. Thought it made the bull something special.”
Cade stood up, dusting dirt off his hands. “Looks like it was shot. If it was someone looking for meat, they’d have butchered it, not left it to rot.”
“I ’spect it’s that dadburned Nelson gang—same ones who made such a mess at Rider’s Pass. I tell you, Kolby, someone needs to string them up by their heels.”
“I’ll take a look around.” It could be the work of a dozen or more penny-ante gangs. Most times they were more troublesome than dangerous, but Cade could see how they were keeping the farmers on edge.
“I’d come with you, but I’ve got hay to put up before rain moves in.”
“Go on with your work, Shelby. I’ll look into it.”
Shelby nodded, and then he spurred his horse into a gallop.
Giving Maddy her head, Cade picked his way up the road. There was no sign of the criminal. Whoever had shot the bull had covered his tracks.
It was mid-afternoon when he stopped by Herschel’s to tell him about the find. He found the farmer walking behind a plow, furrowing a field for winter planting.
“Someone’s got to put a stop to this.” Herschel took off his sweat-stained hat and mopped his head. “I invested a right good sum in that bull.”
“Shelby says he’ll dispose of the carcass for you.”
“Tell him much obliged.”
The sun was low when Cade started back to town. No one in the area had seen or heard anything unusual. Pop would have to follow up on the incident when his leg healed.
Reining in at a stream, Cade dismounted and let the horse drink, and then he leaned down and cupped both hands to fill them with water. A movement on the bank caught the corner of his eye.
The mare reared. Cade grabbed for the reins, but she reared again, knocking him into the shallow water. Springing to his feet, he drew and fired. Pieces of rattler exploded. The headless snake thrashed about on the ground in its death throes. Bolting, the horse galloped off.
Cade put two fingers to his mouth and whistled, but the horse was long gone. Wading out of the water, he kicked the snake carcass into the grass. Maddy hated snakes, and he wasn’t overly fond of them himself. He sat down under a tree to wait. She was bound to come back once she calmed down.
An hour passed, and Cade was getting drowsy. A dull ache in the back of his head was becoming annoying. Tipping his hat over his face, he dozed, knowing Maddy would wake him when she returned.
When he next opened his eyes, moonlight shone palely around him. It was well after sundown. The headache at the base of his skull was sharper, and he was chilled to the bone. Sitting up, he scanned the area then ran a hand over the back of his neck, surprised at how hot he felt even though he was shivering. “Maddy?”
Cade whistled again. No familiar whinny came to him. Leaning back against the tree, he studied the rising full moon. He’d left town hours ago. Red had to be worried about him.
He got to his feet and stretched, trying to work out the kinks. He was getting old. Every bone in his body hurt, and it was a good hour-and-a half walk back to town.
Settling his hat lower, he started off. If he got his hands on that horse right now, a snake would be the least of her problems.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Zoe opened the front door for the tenth time that evening. Where was he? It was nearing nine o’clock, and Cade still wasn’t home. How long could it take to check on one dead bull?
She was glad Gracie canceled the weekly checker game because of Laticia’s visit. Zoe was too worried about Cade to have enjoyed the evening.
“Have you run out on me again?” she whispered tightly. It didn’t do any good to tell herself she didn’t care. It wasn’t just the children who would be disappointed.
“But I don’t want to go to bed without kissing Uncle Cade good night,” whimpered Missy, sitting at the kitchen table with her brothers and sister and great-aunt.
Hiding her concern, Zoe smiled. “I’ll make certain he kisses you the moment he gets here.”
“But whewe is he? He’s ’posed to be back by now. It’s dawk out thewe!”
“He’ll be back,” Brody promised. He stepped to the back door and looked out. “He probably ate supper with Shelby.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Will said. “Mr. Moore made Uncle Cade eat supper with him.”
“Is that it, Zoe? Is that why Uncle Cade isn’t back yet?”
“I’m sure that’s it.” Missy’s face brightened, and Zoe coaxed, “Now, scoot. I’ll tuck you into bed.”
With a scowl, Laticia poured the last of Zoe’s cream into her teacup. “And what makes you so certain that he’ll be back?” The plumage on her black hat bobbled as she talked. “Have you ever known him to keep his word?”
Tears rolled down Missy’s cheeks.
“Miss Wiseman, it’s much cooler on the front porch. Why don’t you have your tea there? I’ll put Missy to bed, and then we’ll visit.”
Zoe spoke politely, but she could have throttled Laticia for planting scary thoughts in Missy’s head. The child was fretful enough. She had extended Laticia an invitation to eat supper with them, but how was she to know Cade would ride off at noon and fail to return? Ooooh! Where was he?
“It’s an hour past my bedtime,” Laticia reminded. “Fetch Abraham and have him take me back to the Willises’.”
“Brody, go to the livery and tell Abraham to bring the carriage.”
The child skipped out to do as he was told.
“Mark my words,” Laticia warned. “Even if that Kolby boy comes back, it won’t change a thing. I’m taking the children with me in the morning. He’s unreliable. And dangerous. He has no business with these children—especially without a wife, but even if anyone were foolish enough to marry him, he would make a miserable father.” She stood and walked through the store to the front door, pausing on the threshold to confront Zoe, who had followed her. “You’re foolish to think you can ever count on him.”
Zoe refused to let the woman upset her. She had no idea what was keeping Cade, but instinct told her he had a reason—a valid reason—for the delay.
Oh, dear Moses, had he met up with one of his enemies? Her knees went weak. Had someone waylaid him on the road? Was he lying somewhere in a ditch right now, bloodied and unable to move?
“I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.” Zoe took a deep breath, trying to ignore her sudden chill. “It is so like Shelby to insist that Cade stay for supper.”
“If it hadn’t been for A
braham’s queasy stomach, we’d be gone by now,” Laticia said. “All that rich food you’ve been feeding us. No one knows how to fix chicken anymore. A body can’t eat it without getting sick.”
If Laticia had dyspepsia, it wasn’t from the chicken, Zoe decided. The killjoy had gorged on five pieces, along with mashed potatoes, gravy, and three ears of corn. She’d barely had room for the cherry cobbler, she’d declared, but she’d managed to put away two servings.
“Are you feeling poorly, Miss Wiseman?”
“Not me.” The matron burped. “Never been sick a day in my life. But Abraham now, he’s got a delicate constitution.”
“Maybe he’d like a little baking soda to settle his stomach.”
Laticia held up a bony hand. “I’ll see to Abraham’s needs. Don’t want a fuss made over him.”
Zoe smiled inside. Abraham wasn’t sick; he was stalling. Bless his dear heart. But poor Lawrence Willis. Zoe wondered if he would ever speak to her again.
Abraham soon arrived with the carriage. After Laticia left and the children were in bed, Zoe picked up her sewing basket and went into the store. She needed something cheerful to drown out the silence. She cranked up the phonograph. The music reminded her of Cade. They had danced to this tune.
She was grateful she didn’t have to leave the children. Seth Brighton had to care for his farm and stock during the day, but he wanted to tend to Bonnie at night. He assured Zoe he would fetch her if he needed her.
Zoe sighed as her thoughts came back to Cade. She glanced toward the darkened window. Was Laticia right? Had he ridden off, never to be heard from again? She wished she’d never told him that she wouldn’t blame him if he rode away and never came back.
After darning every sock in the basket, she put her sewing aside and changed the cylinder on the phonograph. For the hundredth time, she glanced at the clock. Two in the morning. She walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. The full moon made it seem almost as bright as day.
The sound of a horse’s hooves broke into her thoughts, and she bolted to the back door. “Cade? Is that you?”
A riderless Maddy grazed beneath the old oak. Zoe peered up and down the backyard. There was no one but the mare in sight. Please, no. Not Cade, not now. Shelby said he was tracking down the Nelson gang. Oh, Cade, you fool. Why did you go alone? A sob caught in her throat and choked her. “Zoe?”
A Kiss for Cade Page 16
