Cindy Holby

by Angel’s End

  Leah placed a piece of cake before him and sat down with one of her own. She looked at him shyly, as if she were afraid he might bite her. Or maybe kiss her again.

  “I expected someone older,” she said. “It seems like you’re more my age than thirty-seven.”

  “That comes from clean living,” he said with a grin. “What did you expect? Should I be walking with a cane? Have gray hair and a beard down to here?” He slashed his hand across his waist. Be deaf as a fence post?” He put his hand to his ear and made a face. “What was that you say?” he said in a squeaky voice.

  Leah giggled. “No,” she said. “Although that sounds a lot like the minister who married Nate and me.”

  “Had one foot in the grave did he?” Cade teased. “And obviously setting a bad example for the rest of us.”

  Leah nodded in agreement. “I guess he was a young man at sometime. Although…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  “I’m just trying to imagine him…” She blushed as she shook her head. She wiggled her nose as if she smelled something bad. “And you’re not a bit shy about…” She pulled her lower lip between her front teeth.

  “Walking around without my shirt on?” Cade supplied.

  Leah blushed again, sweetly this time, and her lovely green eyes darted away for a quick moment before settling on him again.

  “I was going to say kissing me.”

  “Oh…” He couldn’t lie. Not when she looked at him like that. “I was overcome?” He shrugged. “You’re a beautiful woman Leah. And I’m a very weak man.”

  She seemed pleased with his answer so he took a bite of cake and watched as she took one too. A crumb caught on her lip and she caught it with her tongue. Then she smiled, blissfully, at the taste of the chocolate.

  “My momma used to say that something that tasted this good was a sin,” she said.

  Cade could not stop staring at her mouth. Remembering how she tasted. “Mine used to say that God made things taste good because he loves us. He created us and he created the way things taste.” Even though he had plenty of cake in front of him, Cade stole a bite from her plate. He grinned at her. “So therefore, we should enjoy it and be thankful for it.”

  A sweet smile lit her face. “Your mother must be very special.”

  He hadn’t mentioned his mother to anyone. Not since he was fifteen years old. Whatever possessed him to mention her now? “She was,” he said. What would Leah say if he told her how his mother died?

  “How old were you when she died?” Leah asked.

  It was easy enough to spare her the details. “Ten,” he said simply.

  “Old enough to really miss her,” she said. “I don’t remember my parents. I was only two when they drowned.” She took another bite of cake. “At least you had your father.”

  Cade caught himself before he voiced the bitter words about his father’s abandonment. Instead he said, “My brother and I grew really close.” He didn’t realize how much saying those words would make him miss Brody.

  “Are you still close?” Leah asked.

  Cade could be truthful here. “I haven’t seen him in years,” he admitted.

  “Is his name Brody?”

  “Yes…How did you know that?”

  “You said his name when you were sick with fever.”

  Before he could wonder what else he might have given away during his illness they heard someone knocking on the front door. Leah went immediately to answer it. Cade waited at the entry to the kitchen, curious to see who had come.

  It was a woman with bright red hair. Leah introduced her as Gretchen Martin. He well remembered the chicken stew she made. He couldn’t see her clearly as she stood back on the edge of Leah’s porch.

  “We’ll take care of Banks,” she said.

  “Thank you.” Leah leaned against the door frame in obvious relief. “I don’t know what to tell him. I want to see him because I’m sure he’ll be scared but I don’t want to make him sick.” Her voice broke on the last word. Cade took the two steps necessary to stand behind her. Making sure the woman on the porch could not see what he was doing, he put his hand on Leah’s shoulder which was hidden behind the angle of the door. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “I’ll bring him by and you can talk through the window,” Gretchen suggested.

  “Yes. Thank you.” Leah wiped at her eyes. “Tell everyone I’m sorry.”

  Gretchen took a step forward, thought better of it and stopped. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for Leah. And Jake’s an idiot who is worried about you. You did what any loving Christian person would do.” She crossed her arms as if she needed protection. “The men are on their way up there now. To burn the bodies. I just hope they get back before the snow starts.” She looked off to the north. Cade ducked his head, the better to see the sky and saw the heavy clouds that had gathered and were waiting to dump their heavy load. Gretchen moved again so she could see him through the open door. “Pastor Key they thought maybe you could go up and say a word after…when you’re feeling better.”

  Cade nodded. “Sure I will.” Little did they know he hoped to be long gone before the ashes got cold.

  “If you need anything…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Thank you Gretchen,” Leah said. “For everything.”

  Gretchen nodded, paused for a moment, looked at Leah, opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, then changed her mind and left. Leah watched until her friend disappeared into the house by the livery then she stepped back inside and shut the door with a heavy finality.

  “Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “We’ll be fine. They’re being cautious is all.”

  Now if he could only remember to do the same.

  SIXTEEN

  Leah walked into the parlor and stood before the window. She could see the school plainly from here as the parlor side of the house was even with the porch. She needed some time to gather her thoughts. Sitting at the table and eating cake with Pastor Key had made her forget that they really were to be quarantined. Gretchen’s offer to take care of Banks made her realize that the threat of the measles really was serious.

  Our momma died… The poor little boys from the diner, who lost their mother to such a horrid death. Did they have to watch her die? Shrivel up upon herself as she wasted away? Were her last thoughts of her sons and what would happen to them? She put her head against the pane of glass, between the lace panels that she’d scrimped and saved for when Nate first built the house. It felt cool against her forehead. She sensed Pastor Key watching her. The muscles of her shoulders clenched with the force of it.

  Timothy…you kissed him, you might as well call him by his given name. She heard his footsteps as he finally walked away with Dodger following. She heard the back door open and close. It was nice that he saw to Dodger’s needs.

  What to do…She could either stand around and see if she was going to get sick, or she could make sure her house was in order. Leah chose the latter.

  The sheets she’d washed earlier still needed drying. She could hurry the task up by ironing them. But first she’d make some bread and start something for dinner. As she worked she heard a steady chip-chip sound. Someone was digging in the ice. Leah looked out the window. The streets were deserted, everyone safely behind their doors, all waiting for the coming snow and dreading the possibility of disease arriving with it.

  A flash of color caught her eye. It was Gretchen, on her way to the schoolhouse to gather up the children. Leah picked up Ashes and went to the kitchen window and anxiously waited for her to return with Banks. Snow began to fall, big fat flakes that quickly coated the hitching rail across at the Devil’s Table and joined the inches that covered everything else. Ashes put out a paw as if she could catch the flakes that reflected back against the pane of glass.

  In a matter of moments Gretchen returned with the children. Banks came to the window and Gretchen stayed back with the youngest set of twins. The rest of the children hurried on by
, their shoulders hunched against the cold wind that blew against their backs. Leah opened the window, just a crack, enough so she could hear him and talk to him, but not so she could touch him.

  “Hey Momma!” Banks seemed excited. Gretchen must have told him he was just spending the night again. Ashes poked her head at the crack and swatted a paw at Banks.

  “Hey sweetheart.” She took a deep breath. Now was not the time to get scared. She needed to be strong for Banks’s sake. “Make sure you mind Gretchen and Jim. And do your reading for Gretchen.”

  “I will.”

  “And eat all your supper and go to bed when you’re told.”

  Banks stuck a finger beneath the sill and Ashes batted it. “Can I take Ashes?”

  “No.” Leah put the kitten on the floor. “Gretchen wanted Ashes to live with us, remember? It wouldn’t be fair to take her back to her brothers and sisters and then make her have to leave again.”

  “But…”

  “Go on now, before the snow gets so deep you can’t get to the Martins’.”

  “All right.” He turned to leave.

  “Banks!” Her voice cracked. Leah swallowed and quickly wiped away a tear before he turned around with a questioning look on his face. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Leah blinked back the tears while they trudged away. She was a weakling where he was concerned. As long as Banks was safe she could be strong. The snow, long coming, was already clinging to Gretchen and the twins’ backs. Gretchen put up her hand in farewell and Leah closed the window.

  Ashes swatting at her skirt hem and the steady chip-chip sound drug her back from her morbid thoughts. Who was digging in the ice?

  Since Timothy hadn’t come back inside yet, it had to be him. What could he possibly be doing? She opened the door and found him wrestling her washtub from beneath the snow and ice. He wasn’t wearing a coat but had put his boots on instead of the slippers she’d loaned him earlier in the day. His back was wet from the snow and his damp, dark hair curled wildly from his exertion. He stopped his digging and put his hand to his ribs as he braced himself on the slope of frozen snow. Around him were chunks of ice where he’d flung away pieces as he dug. Dodger watched from the corner of the porch, well away from the shovel and the heavy, wet snow that floated down from the sky.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I’m beginning to think so.” He leaned heavily on the shovel. “I didn’t think it would be that hard when I started.” He touched his wound again. “Little did I know.”

  “You’re going to start bleeding again if you’re not careful.”

  “I’ve just about got it.” He bent over and grabbed the handle of the tub. “Just one more tug.”

  “Let me help.” Leah moved to his side and grabbed hold. The tub was loose and moved a bit, but was still caught on something beneath the snow.

  “On the count of three.” She nodded and he counted. On three they both pulled. The tub screeched and then turned loose suddenly. They both lost their balance and with arms flying out, they fell. There was a loud clanging noise and Timothy said something, something that didn’t quite make sense to her addled mind as she fought for balance. Leah landed on the drift that led up to the porch and slid down it on her back with her skirt rucked up around her waist.

  The fall knocked the air from her. She lay on the snow, stared up into the darkening sky and watched the snowflakes spin above her. They settled on her face and stuck to her lashes. A cold chill seeped into her bones yet she could not seem to move. Dodger came to her side and whined. He poked his nose into her side.

  He cursed. It had been vile, something that a minister would never say. And then he said it again. She heard another clang and realized he’d thrown the washtub. It must have landed on him when they fell. Her breath came back and she quickly sat up.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  He waved a hand over the drift that separated them. It had blood on it. Leah felt a momentary panic until he spoke once more. “That goddamned washtub hit me in the head.”

  Definitely not the words of a minister. Of course being hit in the head by a washtub might give one a valid reason to curse. Leah managed to find her feet and scrambled over the snow to where he’d landed. He was on his hands and knees and trying to rise.

  “This was not one of my better ideas,” he admitted. Blood trickled down from a cut on his temple. “I just thought it might make your life easier.”

  “I can’t fault you for that.” Leah grabbed on to a porch post and held out her hand. “Can you stand?” He grasped her fingers and slowly climbed to his feet. He took a deep breath that obviously pained him and then he touched her face. He scraped some snow from her cheek with his thumb and pushed her hair back behind her ear. Was he going to kiss her again?

  “Timothy?”

  “Cade.” He seemed fascinated with her hair. He smoothed his hand over it, drying off the snow with each pass.

  “Cade?”

  “It’s my middle name. Kincaid actually.” He slowly smiled. “It’s what my mother called me.”

  “Cade,” she said, trying it out. She liked it. It was what his mother called him. It seemed to fit him, much better than Timothy did. Did it mean something more, that he wanted her to call him by that name? Dodger whined, interrupting her musings. “We should go inside. You’re bleeding.”

  He touched his temple and looked at the blood. “Yes, that’s definitely blood.” He shook his head sheepishly. Dodger, relieved that they were both unhurt celebrated by jumping around while they made their way back into the house. They went into the kitchen and once more he sat down in the chair and she cleaned his wound.

  “It’s not deep,” she said as she peered intently at the cut.

  “You’re soaked.”

  “As you are. Why didn’t you at least put your coat on before you went out?”

  “I didn’t think it would take that long to dig it out. And I thought you needed to be alone. To talk to Banks and to…” He shrugged. “Think things over?”

  “Most preachers would have had a prayer meeting.” She dabbed at the cut once more and then put pressure on it.

  “As I said before, I’m not your typical preacher.”

  “Amen to that.” She didn’t mention his cursing. He might not have realized he’d done it. “I think we both would have fared better if you’d worked on the pump.”

  “It’s next on my list.” He put his hand up to the cut. “I can take care of this. Why don’t you go change before you get…” His voice trailed off as he looked at her intently with his dark brown eyes. Would he kiss her again? Did she want him to?

  “Sick?” Leah shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s in God’s hands now.”

  She touched the bread, which had been rising for a while, deemed it ready and put it in the oven. “Dinner should be ready soon. I’ll find you something dry to put on.”

  Leah went to her room. What was going on? He pushed her away one minute and kissed her the next. She took off her shirt and turned up the lamp before she looked in the mirror. She ran her fingers over her breastbone and studied her skin. No spots yet. She couldn’t remember which came first. The rash or the fever.

  What she did know was that measles could wipe out a town in no time. Jake was smart to quarantine her. If only the man with the boys from the mining camp had used the same common sense. The town would have helped him. They would have given them food. Yet Leah could understand how desperate he was. She’d do anything if it meant saving Banks’s life. Lie, cheat, steal, maybe even kill. And stay away from him, even though it broke her heart to do so.

  Leah pulled one of Nate’s shirts from the trunk at the end of the bed. It wouldn’t fit Timothy, who was several inches taller than Nate had been, but it would do until his dried. She found him in the kitchen, stripped of his shirt and examining the pump. Her eyes went to the bandage about his ribs to make sure he wasn’t bleeding again. He wasn’t. Then she could no
t help but watch the muscles of his back flex as he tried to work the pump.

  “Do you have any tools?”

  “In the shed,” she said. “I’ll get them.”

  “No, I’ll get them,” he interrupted. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked intently into her eyes. “Let me take care of things for a change.”

  “But your wou—”

  He touched a finger to her lips. “Check your bread.” He tilted his head toward the stove and grinned as she spun round to do as he asked. She opened the oven, afraid that it had burned, but found that it was fine, golden brown and crusty on the top. The stew she’d put together earlier bubbled on the stove top. Leah heard him whistle a tune as he pulled on Nate’s shirt and went out the back door.

  Leah set the table for two. Dodger watched for Cade to reappear from his bed in the corner. Ashes played under the table, pouncing upon imaginary mice that hid around the chair legs. If she closed her eyes and imagined, Leah could almost see Nate sitting at the table and Banks in his high chair. The footsteps coming back down the hall didn’t belong to her dead husband, but the feeling of domestic rightness remained, even when Cade came back into the kitchen with the toolbox.

  “It’s coming down pretty hard now.” He went through the tools with a frown until he found the one he wanted. “I bet there’ll be another foot or two before morning.”

  “Welcome to a Colorado winter,” Leah replied. “Dinner will be a few minutes yet.” She opened some apples she’d canned in late summer and stirred them into a small pot with a touch of cinnamon and sugar.

  “It seems like this is a nice town,” he said, while he took apart the pump. “People looking out for each other…” He glanced over his shoulder as he wrestled with the part that went beneath the cabinet.

  “It is. The people in this town genuinely care for each other.”

  He grinned and turned, holding the wrench in one hand and the pipe from the pump in the other. “So why hasn’t anyone fixed your pump?”