“Good heavens,” Miss Walker called from her bed. “It’s not bad enough that you make me wear this confection. Now I have to put up with Sawbones and his old clunker. Can’t a woman be left alone?”
Annie turned away from the door. “You look very pretty today.” Earlier she had washed Miss Walker’s hair in a basin, brushed it, and tied it back with a blue ribbon.
What Miss Walker called a confection was in reality a nightgown Annie found tucked in a bureau drawer in her room. Miss Walker denied it was hers and said it had probably been left by one of her failed “heiresses.” No matter, the gown was a vast improvement over the plain nightshirts Miss Walker favored. The blue brought out the color of her eyes.
Miss Walker was still grumbling when Annie left the room and hurried downstairs to let the doctor in. Chatting amiably, he followed her up to the second floor and into Miss Walker’s room.
He greeted his patient with a cheerful smile. “Good morning.” He set his black bag on the floor. “How are we today?”
Impatience crossed Miss Walker’s face. “We should only be used by politicians, expectant mothers, and people with tapeworm.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dr. Fairbanks said good-naturedly. He pulled off his hat and tossed it onto a chair. “I have some good news. We can get rid of this apparatus.”
“That’s wonderful,” Annie exclaimed. It was the news she had been waiting for.
“Does that mean I can also be rid of this annoying cast?” Miss Walker asked.
“The wooden horse goes but the cast remains,” he said. “At least for a couple more weeks.”
“Weeks!”
Fairbanks shrugged. “It takes a good twelve weeks for a bone to heal properly, and at your age—”
“What are you talking about?” Miss Walker glared up at him. “Like any woman my age, I’m not a day over fifty!”
The doctor chuckled. “I’ll let you and your bones argue that point.”
Annie gave Miss Walker’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Just think. You’ll be able to sit up and move around.”
“I want to do more than sit.” Miss Walker threw off her covers. “Don’t just stand there,” she snapped at the doctor. “Get on with it.”
Without further ado, Dr. Fairbanks unhooked the leather straps attached to the cast and gently lowered her injured leg onto the bed. “There you go. You’re not ready to dance yet, but it’s a start.”
“I don’t want to dance,” Miss Walker growled. “I want to get out of bed.”
Fairbanks scratched his head. “Very well. I have a pair of sling-top crutches in my office. They were designed for wounded soldiers but I’ve yet to find any crutch safer.”
“Now! I want to get out of bed now,” Miss Walker insisted. “And I want to go downstairs.”
Fairbanks considered her request for all of two seconds. “In that case we’d best get some help. Miss Beckman, would you be kind enough to fetch a ranch hand or two?”
“Yes, of course.”
Moments later Annie found Ruckus, Stretch, and Branch sitting in the shade of the veranda. It was unusual to find the ranch hands sitting around so early in the day, but then, it was exceptionally hot.
“We just got through pulling twin calves,” Ruckus explained.
Stretch mopped his forehead with his kerchief. “It was like pulling a locomotive uphill.” Ruckus grinned. “They’re in the barn if you want to see them.”
“I do,” she said. “But first we need help carrying Miss Walker downstairs.”
“Downstairs, eh? She’s making progress.” Ruckus stood. “Come on, Stretch. You too, Branch.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh no, I mean . . .”
Ruckus looked from Branch to her. “Is there a problem?”
Branch’s face darkened dangerously and he looked ready to pounce. What was he so afraid she would say? His real name? Or that he and the banker were in cahoots?
“Two of you should be enough,” she said. She gave Branch a meaningful glare. We won’t be needing you.
Oblivious to the undercurrents, Ruckus persisted. “We might need an extra hand taking that apparatus apart.”
Branch’s gaze remained on her face. “Let’s not keep the boss lady waiting,” he said with a few visual daggers of his own.
Seeing that it would do no good to argue, Annie spun around and led the way into the house and up the stairs.
Leaving Stretch to dismantle the apparatus over the bed, Branch and Ruckus carried Miss Walker down the stairs and planted her on the leather couch in the large room.
Dr. Fairbanks lifted her injured leg ever so carefully and propped it upon a footstool. The plaster cast encased the entire leg, leaving only her toes showing.
Annie placed a pillow behind her back. “How’s that?”
“Fine, fine,” Miss Walker snapped, though she sounded out of breath. “Now stop fussing, all of you.”
Dr. Fairbanks arched his brows. “You do know you’ll have to go through the same ordeal tonight when you retire?”
Miss Walker ran her hand over the pillow by her side. “I’ll sleep down here if necessary.”
Annie felt Branch’s gaze and her face burned. Avoiding his eyes, she kept her focus on the doctor. “Do you know if Mr. Stackman will be coming to the ranch?”
Dr. Fairbanks shook his head. “I heard he’s in Tombstone on business. Won’t be back for a day or two.”
This time she did glance at Branch but his closed expression revealed nothing. Her mind scrambled. She couldn’t be certain if Mr. Stackman was truly the Phantom, but she now knew that he and Branch were in cahoots. For that reason alone, it would be interesting to know the nature of the banker’s business.
As if to guess her thoughts, Branch’s gaze sharpened and his eyes grew dark. The visual warning to watch what she said couldn’t have been clearer had he spoken aloud.
Annie quickly looked away.
“Ruckus, how’s my horse?” Miss Walker asked. She never failed to query her ranch hands on her horse’s care.
“Like I told you, Miz Walker,” Ruckus said. “Baxter has been groomed and exercised every day.”
Miss Walker gave a brusque nod. “I should hope so.”
Stretch walked into the room. “I took all the wood down and carried the lumber outside. Anything else you need me to do?”
“That’s it.” Ruckus turned to Miss Walker. “If there’s nothing else, me and the boys will mosey on back to work.”
“Not so fast.” Miss Walker’s demeanor had improved considerably now that she was downstairs and she took full command of the room. “What’s going on?”
Ruckus and Stretch exchanged glances. “Goin’ on?”
“You both look like you’ve been attacked by a hay cutter.”
Ruckus wiped a hand across his clean-shaven face. “There’s a Wells Fargo detective on the loose and word is he’s looking for a man with a beard and mustache.”
Miss Walker’s eyes narrowed. “Why should a detective be of any concern to you?”
Ruckus clutched his hat to his chest, his face as red as an overripe tomato. “The truth is . . . I haven’t always been picking grapes in the Lord’s vineyard. As a lad, I stole tobacco from a general store.”
“Oh dear.” Miss Walker pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “A hanging offense if I ever heard of one.”
“And when I went to the owner’s house to make amends, he thought I was seeing his wife.” Pointing to his crooked nose, he continued, “I didn’t even see his fist coming.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “As God is my witness, I swear I never even thought about smoking after that.”
Miss Walker leveled her gaze at Stretch. “And what dreadful crimes are you guilty of, pray tell?”
Stretch cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like a rubber ball. “I’m a wanted man, but it’s all a misunderstanding. All I did was walk into a bank and a woman teller thrust a bag of money at me.”
Mi
ss Walker narrowed her eyes. “Why would she do that?”
“She mistook me for an outlaw. That’s ’cause it was a windy day and I wore a kerchief over my face to keep from swallowing dust. I tried to explain but everyone in the bank dropped to the floor.” He shrugged. “I figured, heck, if they’re gonna throw money around, who am I to argue?”
Annie couldn’t make up her mind if Stretch spoke the truth or was simply weaving one of his tall tales. Probably a little of both.
Miss Walker waved her hand in dismissal. “Who indeed?”
Dr. Fairbanks began examining Miss Walker, asking her a series of questions. Stretch and Ruckus left but Branch stayed.
“You can go now,” Annie said, keeping her voice low. “Unless, of course, you also have a confession to make.”
“Confession might be good for the soul but it doesn’t do much for one’s reputation,” he whispered back. “What about you? Anything you dare confess?”
“I have a perfectly clear conscience,” she said.
His gaze settled on her mouth. “And not so much as a wayward thought ever crossed your mind?”
She refused to let him intimidate her. “Not a one.”
His eyes met hers. “What a pity.”
He moved away. Shaken, she stared at his back. How did he do that? One look from him and she was a quivering mess inside. She tightened her hands into fists. Whatever his little game, it had to stop. Now!
Dr. Fairbanks finished checking Miss Walker’s pulse and blood pressure. He folded his stethoscope and stuffed it into his black bag. “See that she doesn’t overdo. I’ll be back in a day or two.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Annie fingered the envelope in her pocket, which she hoped he would mail for her. She wrote to ask Pinkerton to check the files for the name Taggert. “I’ll see you out.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Branch said, stepping between her and the doctor. “I’ll be more than happy to do the honors.”
“Don’t rush off.” Miss Walker arranged a pillow behind her back. She looked tired, her face strained, but she showed no sign of giving in. “Stay and join us for afternoon tea. You too, Branch. I haven’t had a chance to get to know you.” She swung her gaze to Annie. “What poison do you have planned for today?”
Annie stared straight at Branch. “Gunpowder.”
He grinned. “Sounds lethal.”
It took every bit of willpower not to be charmed by his crooked smile. “Not lethal enough.”
Dr. Fairbanks donned his hat. “Thank you, but I’m due back in town. I have patients scheduled for this afternoon. Come along—Branch, is it? I’ll show you how to crank up the car.”
The two men walked out of the room.
Annie wanted to scream. Branch knew she wanted to be alone with the doctor. It was as if he could read her mind.
“Well? Don’t just stand there.” Miss Walker waved Annie away. “Go do your tea thing. We’ve got letters to write.”
Able shook his head as Annie set cups and saucers on a tray. The kitchen was hot and beads of sweat battled with the freckles on his forehead. Even his cook hat seemed to droop more than usual.
“Pity sakes, Miz Annie. You’re hoppin’ around like a mad toad. The way you’re taking it out on the dishware, we ain’t gonna have none left.” He pointed to a bowl on the counter covered with a moist cloth. “Why not put all that fury to good use and knead my dough?”
Feeling guilty for taking her frustration out on Able, she apologized. It wasn’t his fault that Branch flustered her the way he did. She washed her hands and sprinkled them with flour. She then lifted the cloth and worked the soft mound of dough with the heels of her palms. Her efforts probably did wonders for the bread but failed to calm the knot of emotions churning inside.
Able covered the bowl with the cloth. He attended his dough like a mother with a newborn babe. “So what’s got you so riled up?”
“Nothing. I’m just anxious to get back to Miss Walker. She’s no longer in traction but she still has a cast.”
“Sounds like your days as a nursemaid are numbered.” He poured boiling water into the teapot, swished the pot around, and emptied it.
He waited for her to measure out the tea leaves before filling the pot with hot water.
“Gunpowder tea from China,” she said. The tea was rolled by hand to protect the fragile leaves. She loved the little popping sounds the pellets made as they unfurled.
Able set the kettle on the stove and added a plate of freshly baked cookies. “Do you want me to do the hocus-pocus thing of yours?”
“I’ll do it.” Hocus-pocus indeed! She placed her hands on the teapot and turned it slowly. She inhaled the smoky smell that drifted from the spout and thought of her grandmother, whom she still missed after all these years. “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.”
Feeling more in control, she carried the tray out of the kitchen and down the hall. The sound of Miss Walker’s laughter was followed by what sounded suspiciously like the whinny of a horse.
What in the world . . . ? Annie stepped into the entry hall, her mouth open. Miss Walker’s red roan, Baxter, stood in the middle of the large room.
Branch was the first to speak. “I thought Miss Walker would like to see for herself how her horse was doing in her absence.”
The man never failed to surprise her and was unlike any criminal she’d ever pursued. Why would a man capable of such kindness to an old lady choose a life of crime? He was like two separate people rolled into one.
Miss Walker smacked her lips and ran her hands along her horse’s withers. It did Annie’s heart good to see the ranch owner looking contented and less like an invalid.
The horse dipped his head and buried his nose in her hand. Laughing like a schoolgirl, Miss Walker stroked his muzzle. “You old crow bait. They been taking good care of you?” Right on cue the horse’s head bobbed up and down.
Annie was still staring at the horse and its owner when Branch stepped in front of her. “May I?” Without waiting for a response, he took the tray from her hands and set it on the low table. The chairs had been moved aside to make room for the animal.
She sidled up to him. “What you did for Miss Walker . . . it’s very thoughtful of you.” She kept her voice low.
“Yes, wasn’t it?”
She frowned. His mocking tone made her wonder if perhaps he had an ulterior motive for seeking Miss Walker’s favor. Like a mother shielding her child, she felt a protective surge rush through her. Whatever his game, he’d better not involve the old lady.
“I’m surprised she didn’t give you a tongue-lashing about damage to her floors,” she said, though it was doubtful that anything could harm the red terra-cotta tiles.
“Considering the company she keeps, the floors should be the least of her worries,” he whispered back.
“I quite agree,” she replied coolly, or at least as coolly as her trembling limbs would allow.
“Did you recover from your late-night outing?” he asked.
No. Aloud she said, “Yes, thank you.”
“A woman shouldn’t wander about the desert at night.” The dark look in his eyes belied the concern in his voice. “It could be . . . dangerous.”
“So I discovered,” she said.
“Can I take that to mean we’re in accord and that from now on you will confine your walks to daytime?”
No such accord prevailed. “Is that an order?” she asked. What was he afraid she’d discover? She’d already caught him with the banker. Who else might she find him with?
He folded his arms and regarded her from beneath a furrowed brow. “Just a bit of friendly advice from one family member to another.”
A warning if she ever heard one. “Your advice is . . . well taken,” she said. Over my dead body.
Seemingly satisfied with her answer, he glanced at the tray. “Do you mind if I help myself to some of that . . . what did you call it?”
“Gunpowder tea.” She picked up t
he teapot. “Oh dear, you’ll have to forgive me. I only brought two cups.”
“He can have mine,” Miss Walker called from the couch.
The man whose name she now knew was Taggert cracked a crooked, heart-pounding smile. “Care to join me, Miss Beckman?”
That night Annie couldn’t sleep and after hours of twisting and turning, she finally gave up. She checked her watch in the light of the moon. It was a little after 3:00 a.m. Sighing, she walked out onto the balcony. The night air was brisk but felt good against her fevered brow.
If only she could quiet her raging thoughts. Names ran through her head like sand through a sieve. Stretch, Ruckus, Feedbag . . . could any of them be the Phantom? Then there was Wishbone and—
Before she could run through the entire list of suspects, the sound of galloping hooves alerted her. The horse came to a stop and the rider slid from the saddle.
Who was out riding at this time of night? She leaned over the railing to get a closer look but horse and rider had disappeared into the stables.
She rushed into her room, quickly threw on her clothes, and grabbed a shawl. Moments later she crept through the courtyard. Light shone through the cracks between the wooden boards. The night rider had lit a lantern.
She peered through a knothole. Michael!
She drew back. What was he doing out so late? Aunt Bessie’s nephew was the one person she hadn’t seriously considered a suspect, which was why she hadn’t pursued him. She didn’t want to consider him even now.
It was moments like this when she hated her job.
The light went out and Michael emerged. She stood perfectly still while he headed in the opposite direction toward the bunkhouse. A strong smell of bay rum drifted toward her and her nose twitched.
He vanished into the building. Moving away from the barn, she hurried to the house. She paused at the gate to glance around and a cold shiver ran down her spine.
The strangest feeling came over her and hairs stood up on the back of her head. A dark form standing a distance away told her that someone else stood watching too.
Gunpowder Tea (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) Page 14
