The Bride's Prerogative

by Davis, Susan Page

  Kincaid stooped and lowered Isabel gently to earth.

  “Can we get a blanket?” Libby asked. “What about a pillow?”

  Ethan looked uneasily toward the house. They’d moved Cyrus off the steps, but Kenton’s boots were visible through the doorway. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, ma’am.”

  “I’ll get them.” Hiram ran for the steps. He hopped over Kenton’s body and looked around. On the bunk against the side wall he found one more musty wool blanket but no pillow. He carried it outside, shook it, and walked over to Libby. “This is all I could find.”

  “Thank you. We’ll make do.” She squinted at his battered hat. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes ma’am. I’m fine.”

  She nodded soberly, and he wondered if she knew about the shooter in the barn.

  “There’s a hole in your hat brim,” she said quietly.

  He inhaled deeply. He’d noticed that hole when he retrieved his hat after the gunfire had ceased. Not much he could do about it. “Yes ma’am. I gave thanks to the Almighty.”

  “So did I,” she said.

  “Hey, Doc?” Arthur Tinen Jr. strode over to the knot of people, and Kincaid looked up at him.

  “Yes?”

  “That fella out back …”

  Kincaid grimaced. “I confess I forgot about him. I’ll come right away.”

  He started to stand, but Arthur put his hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “No need.”

  Kincaid sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  Ethan stood. “It’s all right, Doc. You need to see to Miss Fennel now. I’ll go take a look at the cowpoke, and you can check him over later and do what you have to do.”

  Hiram looked from the huddle around Isabel to Ethan’s retreating back and decided to tag after him. He followed Ethan and Art behind the house and out to the far edge of the corral, where the ground sloped up sharply into the scrub pines.

  Griffin Bane stood over the body, his face set in grim lines and his right arm cradled in a sling improvised from Annie Harper’s paisley shawl.

  “He’s a goner, Ethan,” Griff said as they approached. “Nothing you can do for him.”

  “Would it have helped if the doctor got to him?”

  “Doubt it.” Griffin looked down at the body. “I met this fella once, in the Nugget.”

  “Oh?” Ethan asked. “Does he have a name?”

  “Red. On account of his hair, I reckon.”

  “Too bad we didn’t catch any of them alive,” Hiram said.

  “Yeah.” Ethan pushed his hat back. “We might have trouble identifying some of these fellas. We don’t even know most of their names, and some of them we do know are false.”

  Hiram looked down at the dead man’s face. “Guess you’ll have to write some more letters before Doc can make out all the death certificates.”

  Ethan knelt and gingerly checked the man’s pockets but found only a few extra cartridges, a nickel, and a pocketknife. “Hiram, would you ask Josiah to pick this one up after he gets Kenton and

  Button?”

  “Sure. What about Cyrus?”

  “He oughta ride in a different wagon from the others, I’d think.”

  “That’s fittin’,” Griff said.

  Isabel moaned and put her hand to her aching temple. “What happened?”

  “You swooned, dear,” Libby said, “but you’ll be all right. Dr. Kincaid has been attending you.”

  Dr. Kincaid. The privy. Papa.

  Isabel struggled to sit up, and Trudy got her arm beneath her and gave her a boost. Her head ached. Isabel looked around and spotted a form lying by the steps that was covered with a dirty woolen blanket. Her stomach clenched. “That’s Papa, isn’t it?”

  “Yes dear,” Libby said. “I’m so sorry.”

  The men within earshot ducked their heads and removed their hats.

  Libby reached both hands toward Isabel. “Come sit in the wagon and let Dr. Kincaid examine you.”

  “I want to see Papa.” Tears gushed from Isabel’s eyes, and she fumbled in her pocket for her handkerchief but found only a shotgun shell she’d missed when loading the stove. She stared down at it, her innards still swirling. Had her bid for freedom sparked a fatal shootout?

  Libby put her arms around her. “There, now. Maybe you’d best wait until …” She glanced up at Hiram, who stood nearby. “Until the men take him home and … and clean him up, dear.”

  “No.” Isabel found the hankie in her other pocket and held it to her eyes. “Please. Let me see him now.”

  With Dr. Kincaid on her left and Libby on her right, she tottered to the doorstep.

  “Are you certain you’re ready for this?” the doctor asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  Kincaid looked toward Hiram. “Would you, Mr. Dooley?”

  Hiram stepped forward, stooped, and grasped a corner of the blanket. He pulled it back a few inches, and Isabel could see her father’s graying hair. Hiram shot a glance at the doctor. Kincaid arched his eyebrows and nodded, though he tightened his hold on Isabel’s arm. Hiram laid the blanket back as far as her father’s waist.

  Blood drenched the front of Cyrus’s clothing. His head was thrown back, his eyes shut. Isabel’s lips trembled as she viewed him, so unnaturally still.

  “Papa,” she whispered. She plucked at her skirts and lifted them a few inches so she could kneel beside him. She glanced toward the open doorway of the house. A man’s feet in worn boots lay just within. “Is that … Uncle Kenton?”

  “Yes ma’am,” the doctor said softly. “He’s left this world as well.”

  She shivered.

  Dr. Kincaid quickly wrapped his arm around her waist. A vague uneasiness swept over her. No man had ever touched her in so personal a manner … not until the vile cowboys, anyway. “Come, Miss Fennel. I think you’ve seen enough. You need to sit down and take some water. I want to check your pulse as well.”

  He pulled her gently toward the nearest wagon, and she let him guide her. He kept his arm about her, and the sensation was not unpleasant, though the back of her bodice was damp with perspiration where his arm encircled her. Josiah lowered the tailgate. Isabel wobbled a bit, and Dr. Kincaid braced her with his other arm.

  “All right?”

  She sized up the wagon bed. It seemed impossibly high. “I don’t think I …”

  “Allow me.” Dr. Kincaid bent and lifted her, depositing her on the back of the wagon.

  “Thank you.” Isabel shut her eyes for a moment then opened them.

  “I fear you’ve overtaxed yourself.” The doctor took out his pocket watch and reached for her wrist.

  “I shall be fine.” Isabel looked over at her father as the doctor checked her pulse. Hiram had laid the blanket back over the body. She sucked in a breath and looked at the doctor instead. His blond hair gleamed in the brilliant sunlight.

  Trudy moved in with an open canteen. “Here, Isabel. This is probably warm, but it will do you good.”

  Her hand shook as she took it and tipped it up. How many people had drunk from it before her? As she lowered the canteen, she eyed it critically. “This is Papa’s.”

  “Is it?” Trudy asked.

  “Yes.” She took another swallow then handed it to her friend.

  Kincaid looked around. “Where’s Runnels? We need to put this wagon in the shade.”

  “I’ll get him,” Trudy said. “There’s a strip of shade yonder, by the barn.”

  Libby climbed in over the wagon seat and came to sit beside Isabel. Dr. Kincaid looked into Isabel’s eyes for a moment, frowning.

  “Why don’t you lie down and rest, Miss Fennel?” he asked as he put away his watch.

  Isabel started to protest, but his suggestion made sense. From out of nowhere, Annie and Bitsy appeared beside the wagon and offered a shawl and a horse blanket. Libby arranged them so that Isabel could have a cushion for her head. She soaked a handkerchief in warm water from the canteen and dabbed at Isabel’s forehead. It felt good, and Isab
el closed her eyes.

  “That’s it,” the doctor said in his melodious voice. “Try to rest. I have some other duties I must see to, but Mrs. Adams will stay with you. I’ll come back and examine you again before you leave.”

  Leave? Where would she go? She pulled in a breath, fighting panic.

  “What else you want done, Sheriff?”

  Isabel’s eyes flew open at the shout. That sounded like Micah Landry. When had he arrived? Was the entire town here? She must have slept, but she was roasting. The rays of sun seared through her cotton blouse. She wanted to be at home, in her cool, wallpapered bedroom, on the double feather bed. But then she’d have to listen to the empty house.

  “They’re going to move the wagon,” Libby said. A few moments later, the wheels creaked, and they lurched several yards. Blessed shade crept over Isabel, and she shivered.

  “Better?” asked Libby.

  “Yes.” She heard Ethan say something about the livestock. She would have to think of Papa’s cattle, too. A little moan escaped her lips.

  “It’s all right, dear. You’re going to be all right.” Libby leaned over her. “Papa …”

  “Yes. He’s gone.”

  Isabel puffed out a breath and shut her eyes again. “I’ll help you in any way I can,” Libby said softly. “It’s so hot.”

  “We’ll take you back to town soon.”

  “What happened?” Isabel asked. “Who killed him?”

  After a short pause, Libby drew a deep breath. “Your father confronted Mr. Smith. It seems they shot each other.” She blotted Isabel’s brow again with the handkerchief.

  “What will they do with him now?”

  “Your father?” Libby touched her shoulder gently. “Shall we carry him into town, or do you wish to have him laid out at the ranch?” Isabel shuddered. “I … don’t know.”

  “If you’d like, the men can take him to the livery stable. Mr. Bane has offered to help care for him. Mr. Dooley will build a coffin, and they’ll fix him up nicely for the funeral.”

  Isabel nodded. “I suppose that’s best. Put him in here with me. I want to ride with him.”

  Libby squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry, dear Isabel. So very sorry.”

  “Papa wasn’t a bad man.”

  “No. No, he wasn’t.” Libby set her jaw and nodded firmly. “He came here to get you away from those evil men. He loved you very much.”

  “Our men at the ranch will want to see him.”

  “We’ll pass by your home on the way to town. We can send a rider ahead to tell them. If they want, they can accompany the … the body to the livery stable.”

  “Good. I think they’d want to help get him ready.” Isabel pressed her lips together. As dry as she felt, a new flood of tears sheeted down her cheeks.

  Libby foraged in her pockets but came up empty.

  “Will this help?”

  At Hiram’s soft inquiry, Libby turned. He stood beside the wagon offering a folded bandanna. She took it and held out the faded, soft square to Isabel.

  “Th-thank you.”

  “The doctor’s coming back,” Hiram said.

  Isabel sat up slowly. Libby reached to help her inch over to the tailgate. Trudy hovered on the other side and reached to help. Isabel let her feet hang over the edge of the wagon.

  The physician had almost reached them when Rose ran out from a knot of people near the house, carrying her parasol.

  “Doctor, my ears are still ringing from all that shooting.”

  Kincaid paused and eyed her pensively. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Caplinger. It will pass after a time.”

  Trudy rolled her eyes skyward and called, “Rose, Dr. Kincaid needs to tend to Miss Fennel.”

  “But I can barely hear you.” Rose’s face crumpled up. “Doctor, you don’t think it could be permanent, do you?”

  Kincaid shook his head. “I doubt it, ma’am. You weren’t close to the gunfire. I expect you’ll be fine by evening, if not before.” He walked the last few yards to the wagon.

  “I told her not to come,” Trudy muttered. “But no, she heard about the posse and insisted on riding along.”

  Rose stood for a moment with her mouth pursed, but when the doctor paid her no more attention, she swung about and stalked back to the shade with the fringe on her shawl fluttering.

  The doctor stood facing Isabel. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Miss Fennel. I couldn’t see that you had any wounds.”

  “No. My wrist aches, but I think that’s the only thing wrong.” She shuddered, and Libby patted her shoulder again. So very much was wrong, after all.

  “Let me see.” Kincaid took her left hand gently.

  Isabel winced. “It’s quite tender. That Button man twisted it.”

  “I’m sorry. May I unfasten this cuff?”

  Inexplicably, she found herself blushing. “I can do it.” She fumbled with the button and extended her arm again.

  He bent over her hand and pushed the sleeve up a few inches. “Mmm. I see the redness. A little swelling.” He probed the wrist joint. “Turn your palm up, please. Uh-huh. Does that hurt?”

  “No more than before.”

  “And when you make a fist?”

  She tried it. “Yes, that hurts.”

  He felt the joint again. “I don’t think anything is broken, but you should take it easy for a few days. It might help to wrap your wrist to support it for a day or two. Would you like me to bandage it for you?”

  “No, thank you. I’m sure it will heal.” She rubbed the sorest spot with her fingertips. “Doctor …”

  “Yes?” Kincaid looked gravely into her eyes. “Did you examine my father’s body?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Could you please tell me … anything?”

  Kincaid cleared his throat. “He died swiftly. One fatal wound to his heart.”

  She nodded. “He didn’t suffer, then?”

  “I think not. It was nearly instantaneous for both of them.”

  “Both—” Isabel glanced at Libby then back to the doctor. “You mean my uncle, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “The sheriff was right behind your father. As near as we can tell, Smith pulled the trigger as he opened the door, and your father returned fire. It was the last act for both of them.”

  “I heard someone say the rest of his men got away.”

  “Three were shot down. The others—three more, we think—escaped.”

  Isabel nodded, mentally counting the men she’d seen hulking about the ranch. “Which ones?”

  “One man was killed by a shot through the window. I believe he’s the one who brought you outside when your father insisted on seeing you.”

  Kincaid avoided looking directly at her as he spoke. Isabel wondered if he’d taken part in the shootout, but she didn’t ask. He was one of the best marksmen in town. Perhaps she would ask Libby sometime. Not now. It might be best if she didn’t know who fired the fatal bullets.

  “The other dead men are a large, heavy man with a beard and a red headed man.”

  “He was in the house when Papa and the others came. They were playing poker—Uncle Kenton, Red, and Buck—while Button kept watch at the window. I only saw the others from a distance.”

  “The one called Buck must have gotten away.”

  “Yes.” Isabel gazed toward the ranch house and the mountains beyond.

  “I think you should rest some more, ma’am,” Kincaid said. “Is there anyone at home who can stay with you tonight?”

  “No, I …”

  “She can stay with me,” Libby said. “Isabel stayed at my home last night, and I’d be delighted to have her again. We can stop briefly at her father’s ranch on the way to town, and she can pick up a few things.”

  Isabel caught her breath. Did she want to do that? She certainly didn’t want to stay alone at the ranch. She exhaled in a sigh. “Thank you. I believe I’d like that if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” Libby squeezed her s
houlders gently. “You may stay as long as you like.”

  “Poor Papa.” Isabel pushed back a loose wisp of her hair. “I wasn’t there to fix his breakfast this morning.”

  CHAPTER 38

  The motley procession started for Fergus. The Harpers’ wagon pulled out first, loaded with townspeople. Libby sat in the back of Josiah Runnels’s wagon with Isabel and the Bentons. They’d persuaded Isabel to let Arthur Tinen Jr. transport her father’s body in the wagon behind them. Libby was glad she didn’t have to sit close to the corpse, but she would have if Isabel had insisted. Hiram and Trudy rode their horses alongside them. Ethan rode at the head of the procession with some of the other men. The wagon bearing Kenton and his dead ranch hands followed several yards behind.

  Within a mile of the Fennel ranch, several riders galloped toward them. Cyrus’s men paused to speak to the sheriff then rode on back and clustered their horses around the wagon in which Isabel rode.

  The oldest of the cowboys lifted his hat and eyed her sorrowfully. “Is it true, Miss Isabel? Is your father dead?”

  “Yes Brady. I’m having him laid out at the livery in town, where folks can stop in and see him before the funeral. I’ll be stopping at home for a minute to pack a few things. I’m staying in town tonight with Mrs. Adams.”

  Brady touched the brim of his hat. “All right, miss. If you need anything, you let us know. The boys and I will go into town and make sure they tend to your papa right.”

  “Thank you.”

  Brady turned his horse and trotted back to the wagon behind them. He and the cowboys gazed into the bed then fell in behind.

  At the lane to the Fennel ranch, Josiah turned in. His father and Arthur continued on, driving their grim burdens toward Fergus.

  Ethan called to the freighter, “We’ll be just a few minutes, Oscar. Head for the livery, and I’ll be along before you get there.”

  Most of the townspeople went on, but Ethan and the Dooleys followed Josiah’s wagon to the Fennel house.

  Apphia Benton slid toward the back of the wagon. “My dear, I can go in with you and help you gather your things.”

  “Thank you.” Isabel climbed down.

  The pastor got out of the wagon, too. Libby stayed put and watched the three go into the house. Ethan and the Dooleys dismounted and walked their horses over close to the wagon.