Cadence

by Charlene Raddon

  "Wildcat Ridge doesn't have a photographer."

  He grinned. "I noticed that. Would you like me to stick around Wildcat Ridge?"

  "That would be telling, wouldn't it?" she teased.

  "Ha! I was hoping it would." He squeezed her closer against his side.

  After a lengthy silence, Cady said, "I'm so afraid I'll never see Regina again."

  "I know. I feel the same about July."

  She cut herself off from saying what came to mind, that at least July was grown. Regina was only a child. "We'd better get back if we want any of that souffle."

  Garrick drew her around to face him. "I could think of something I'm sure would be even sweeter."

  Cady peered up at him, lips slightly parted, pulse suddenly racing. Would he kiss her? Oh, please do. "What is that?"

  "Wait and see," he said, bending closer.

  He took her lips with his, lingering over them, taking his time until Cady moaned. She'd only been kissed by Randy before and had found that wet and sloppy. Distasteful. She couldn't help moaning a little at how Garrick's kiss made her feel inside, trembly, excited and eager for more. His arms encircled her, their bodies pressed together. She felt safe there, safe and happy.

  Garrick pulled back his head and looked at her, his lips curving up in that crooked smiled of his. "You, lady, are a delight to kiss. But, we'd better get back before I take too much advantage. Besides, it's snowing."

  Cady allowed him to lead her toward the salon, wondering how he could take advantage of a woman as willing as she was at the moment.

  They had almost reached the salon when a gunshot sounded, and a bullet zinged past to bury itself in the wall.

  Cady screamed. Garrick dropped to the ground, taking her with him. Holding her down with one hand, he drew his Colt with the other and looked for the assailant. The shot had come from the forest on the hill behind the salon.

  Her heart pounded, and she squashed the sense of panic rising within her.

  The salon door opened, and Sam stuck out his head. "What's happening? We heard gunfire."

  "Get down. Someone shot at us from the trees," Garrick yelled.

  "I'll cover you from here while you get her inside. Come on."

  Garrick helped Cady up and shielded her with his body. "Keep low. Run."

  Together, they raced inside, and Sam latched the door shut. Franco stood at the window with a rifle ready. Henri and the girls huddled by the sink where they wouldn't be hurt by flying bullets or glass.

  "Are you all right?" Cady asked as Garrick pulled off her snow-dusted coat and shoved her toward the small group.

  "Fine." Garrick went to stand with the men.

  "Don't see anyone," Sam said.

  Franco pulled the curtain aside. "No, but we know someone's there."

  "He could have slipped out of the trees where we can't see," Garrick said.

  "Do you think it's that gunman Mortimer said he was going to send?" Cady asked.

  "Don't know who else it would be."

  After half an hour, Sam said, "I'm going out the front door and look around."

  Garrick pushed away from the wall next to the window and grabbed his coat. "I'll will too. You go north, and I'll go south."

  "All right. Come on." The two men vanished into the interior of the building.

  The kitchen seemed ominously silent with the two men gone. Silent and eerie. Who had shot at them? Lach? Had Mortimer told him to kill Garrick?

  Cady's heart did a flipflop at the idea of Garrick being in danger. She'd wanted to beg him to stay but knew it would humiliate him.

  Please watch over him, Lord.

  Time passed with aching slowness. The girls tried to play cards but were too distracted. Henri baked cookies. Franco stayed alert at the window.

  Henri put the cookies in the oven and went over to Franco. "I have bad feeling. Someone will be hurt tonight."

  "I'm worried too," Franco said. "Can you play guard here while I go cover for the men?"

  Henri glanced out the window. "I will try."

  Cady walked over to the gun case and took down a rifle.

  "What are you doing?" Franco asked.

  "If Henri can act as a guard, so can I. My father taught me to shoot when I was a girl. He used to take me on turkey shoots." As she spoke, she loaded the gun.

  "Very good." Franco patted her on the shoulder and slipped away. "Be careful."

  Franco's absence left the girls more nervous. Leda wanted to get guns and watch from the upstairs windows.

  Henri shrugged. "Cannot hurt, if you don't shoot each other."

  The two girls selected weapons, loaded them and vanished upstairs where Mae hid in her room.

  Cady positioned herself at a window and peered through the snowy gloom outdoors.

  It seemed hours before Garrick called from the front foyer, "We're back. Don't shoot us."

  Cady's pulse eased. She wanted to run to him, instead, forcing herself to stay where she stood. Had she fallen for him? How could she know?

  The men entered the kitchen with Sam between them, his arms over their snow-shrouded shoulders. Blood covered one arm.

  "No!" Cady hurried to help them. "What happened?"

  "Got jumped," Franco answered.

  "He'll be okay," Garrick said. "Just a shoulder wound. Bullet went right through. One of you ladies want to dress it?"

  Leda and Alma bounded down the stairs and into the room. "We saw you heading for the front door."

  "We'll take care of him," Cady said. "Sit him at the table, Sam. I'll fetch supplies."

  "I'll get them." Alma raced off.

  Garrick helped get Sam's coat off, then his shirt and undershirt. Cady examined the wound. "It doesn't appear too bad. Thank goodness the bullet went through."

  Leda handed her a warm, wet cloth and, together, they cleaned the wound. Alma returned in time to bandage the injured shoulder with surprising gentleness. She insisted on being the one to help him dress again.

  "Bastard hid in the trees," Sam said, grimacing with pain. "Figured him long gone. Should'a been more careful. He's sure gone now though. I caught a glimpse of him running up the hill. Had a horse there."

  Franco brought Sam a cup of hot coffee. "We need to find out who he is, so we can watch for him."

  "Coffee is old. I will make fresh." Henri filled the pot with water.

  "To find out who this man is, someone would have to go into town to make inquiries and look for strangers," Cady pointed out, helping Sam pull on a clean shirt. "Then that person would be in danger of being shot in the back."

  "True." Franco picked up his six-gun and began taking it apart.

  "What are you doing?" Leda asked. "You might need that gun."

  "I'm going to clean it. Can't be sure it'll work right if it isn't kept clean."

  "Then I suggest the rest of you clean yours as well."

  Garrick took his from its holster. "Why don't I be your man in town? I live there, and people are used to seeing me now. So long as the killer doesn't see me coming and going here, it should be safe enough."

  "How can we be sure you aren't seen?" Cady asked, rinsing bloody cloths. The very idea of him going about town with some killer loose terrified her.

  "You leave that to us," Franco said. "We can create a disturbance out front while he slips out the back door.

  "That should work." Garrick emptied his gun before cleaning it. "I'll leave after dark. Should be all right."

  Cady dropped the bloody, wet rag used to clean Sam into the sink and folded her arms across her chest. "I don't like it. Can't he stay here tonight?"

  Franco laughed. "Where, in your room?"

  Sam hooted with laughter. "Wouldn't it be funny if Mortimer came back and found that?"

  Everyone shouted at once, "No!"

  "There are the so-called guest rooms he keeps for hoity-toity customers," Cady said.

  Garrick put down his gun and went to her, pulling her arms apart. "I don't need to stay here. I'll be safe
in my wagon. I promise."

  "How can you promise something you have no control over?" she demanded.

  Garrick sighed and kissed her nose. "Trust me, all right?"

  "I do. It's this gunman I don't trust."

  Chapter Eleven

  On Sunday, Cady sat on the back bench of the church with Mae and the others. Stares of disapproval came from some parishioners. Cady didn't care. Wildcat Ridge had a new minister and she wanted to hear his sermon. She'd missed going to church. All of them had come, even Franco and Henri who were Catholic.

  Mortimer had forbidden them to attend church but he and Lach were tuck in Cranesville, thanks to the fierce storm that hit the next day. No one had been moving outdoors much, until today. Cady wasn't the only one eager to hear the new reverend.

  She wondered where Garrick was. The fact that she missed him troubled her. She didn't want to fall in love with anyone, not before she found Regina. Her sister had to remain her top priority.

  Halfway through the opening hymn a deep baritone voice caught her attention. Glancing around, she realized it came from Garrick two benches ahead on the other side of the aisle. He'd been gone when she came down to the kitchen that morning.

  "Oh, no," Mae whispered. "I have to leave."

  Cady understood instantly. "Go now. The singing will cover the sound of your footsteps and the door closing."

  Mae edged past Cady and hurried to the vestibule. She made it, barely, before Garrick turned his head. He spotted Cady and waved.

  When the service ended, and folks had begun filing out the door, he caught up with her in the vestibule. "How nice to see you here. I feared you'd feel you didn't belong in a church because of where you work."

  "We figure we belong in a church maybe more than other people," she answered, with a hint of amusement. "If anyone doesn't like it, we decided not to care."

  "Good for you." He nodded to the others then. "Hello, Leda, Alma. Glad to see you, Franco."

  "Are you coming with us?" Franco asked. "Sam is getting too good at darts. I can't beat him anymore. I might have a chance with you."

  "In your dreams," Garrick said.

  Franco glanced around. "Where's Mae?"

  "She went home. Indisposed." Cady didn't explain. Any man who spent as much time with women as Franco did would be accustomed to them being "indisposed."

  The crowd at the door thinned and Cady headed that direction, the others following.

  "Are you sure Mortimer and Lach won't return and find me there?" Garrick asked as they left the church behind. He studied the sky where the clouds had begun to break up. "The storm should be over soon, so the trains might be able to get through any time now. With all the deliveries that have been held up and people needing to get home, they might throw the schedule out the window and come as soon as they can."

  Franco frowned at the snow-covered ground a few moments. They'd gotten three feet of snow over the last three days and the trains had stopped running. So had the stage.

  "The train will need maintenance," Franco said, "and I'm sure they'll do their best to stick with their schedule, which means it won't reach here until Tuesday."

  "All right, if you're willing to risk it, I am too. "

  Henri had made his special onion soup early that morning and left it to keep warm in the oven.

  Cady took a bowl up to Mae in her room.

  "Please come down," she pleaded. "You're missing out on a lot of fun."

  "I'm not feeling well or sociable, Cady."

  Giving up, Cady returned to the kitchen to find everyone cackling with laughter.

  "Did I miss something?" she asked, reclaiming her seat. How could she convince Mae to go to Garrick? Brother and sister obviously loved each other. It was a crime for them to let such a small thing keep them apart. She'd come to know Garrick well enough to be sure Mae's profession wouldn't affect him.

  "Henri told a joke," Leda said, glowering. "Only he told it in French."

  "No one translated for you?" Could she arrange for Mae and Garrick to meet accidentally?

  "Garrick did. He speaks French and Spanish, but I still don't get it."

  Cady glanced over at Garrick. He winked at her.

  "You didn't tell me you're multi-lingual," she said, her mind leaping to the question he'd asked her earlier—why she didn't go to Cranesville to find Regina. It was a legitimate question. Could she say the same about her reason for not going?

  A light storm hit Thursday morning. Assuming Mortimer would still be stuck where he was, Garrick arrived at the salon at the usual time.

  "Well," Franco said, admitting him inside the warm, fragrant kitchen and brushing some snow off Garrick's coat, "this ought to keep Mortimer away a bit longer, if we're lucky."

  "'If we're lucky' being the operative words," Garrick retorted.

  "I think you only come for Henri's cooking anyway," Cady teased.

  "Oh?" Mischief glinted in Garrick's eyes. "Maybe I came to see how much tickling you could bear."

  He stalked toward her, hands outheld, fingers curled like claws.

  "No. You're not tickling me." She backed around the table. "Stop it, Garrick. I hate being tickled."

  "That makes it more fun."

  She went to slip around the corner of the table, but Franco pulled out a chair, blocking her way.

  "Franco!"

  "Oh, forgive me. Did I interfere?"

  Cady shrieked when Garrick lunged and trapped her in his arms.

  "Well, this is cozy," a new voice said above the laughter.

  Several gasps echoed through the suddenly silent room.

  Mortimer stood in the doorway. "You!" he hollered, pointing at Garrick. "What do you think you're doing here? Thumbs, get off your lazy rear and get him out of here. Now!"

  "Mr. Crane," Garrick addressed him, "no one here is in danger due to my presence. I apologize if I'm not welcome and will leave immediately."

  "Of course, you're not welcome."

  "Very well." He walked to the door while Mortimer continued to fume.

  "Don't you step foot on my property again, you hear me? And stay away from my… employees."

  Garrick stared at the man a long time, hands clenched at his sides.

  "Well?" Mortimer said. "Get going."

  "I'll go." Garrick walked up to the small, dumpy man until they were almost nose to nose. "But only for the sake of my friends here. And Cady. You touch one hair on her head and you'll answer to me. You hear that, Crane? In fact, you harm any of these ladies and I'll be like a rabid wolf at your backside."

  Mortimer backed away. "You… You can't talk to me like that. I-I'll tell the marshal you threatened me." He looked from one face to the other of those still seated at the table. "You heard him. He threatened me."

  Returning his gaze to Garrick, he screeched, "I'll see you in jail."

  "Not likely." Garrick looked at Cady. "Be ready in one hour. I'll be coming for you."

  Mortimer danced around him, making jabbing motions with his stubby fingers. "You will not. She's not going anywhere with you. Ever. She belongs to me. I paid for her and I'll keep her for as long as I like."

  "Be ready," Garrick told Cady again.

  Cady didn't know what to do. What were his intentions? Did he mean to take her away? She wouldn't mind that.

  She'd relished the time they'd spent together of late, loved being with him. He was intelligent, funny, compassionate and generous. It had been a long time since she'd met anyone like him. Yes, she wanted to go with Garrick but feared what Mortimer would do. He couldn’t be trusted and would want revenge. So she said nothing, and Garrick left.

  Mortimer's red face went white and back to red again. One hand clutched at his chest. "I have to sit down. Drink. I need a drink."

  Franco went to the cabinet and came back with a bottle of brandy. He set it in front of Mortimer. "I apologize. This was my fault. I invited Garrick to join us."

  Mortimer glanced from Cady to Franco. "You did?"

  "Ye
s, sir."

  "Well, don't do it again." He turned to his hired man. "Thumbs, you're fired. Clear out. I don't want you here anymore, worthless lout."

  Sam lowered his head. When he raised it again, anger showed clearly in his eyes.

  Cady could stand it no longer. "Mr. Crane. Don't take out your childish temper on Sam. He had nothing to do with Mr. Brant being here."

  "He didn't kick him out either, though, did he?" he countered.

  "I apologize, sir," Sam said, getting to his feet. He appeared ready to explode. "I'll get my things."

  "Who is Sam?" Mortimer asked.

  "Me," Sam said, facing him squarely. "That's who. Does it surprise you that a worthless hulk like me could have a real name?"

  Mortimer's brow creased. He appeared confused. "Well, whoever you are, get out."

  "I object," Franco said. "We need him to help guard the doors and keep the peace on weekends."

  Mortimer's color reached the scalding point. His eyes took on a wild look. "You object? What makes you think you have any right to protest my orders?"

  "Mr. Brant's presence here harmed no one, sir."

  "It harmed me, you imbecile. Shall I fire you as well?"

  "Do as you wish, but you'll have a difficult time replacing Sam, let alone me."

  Laughter burst from Mortimer. "What makes you think that? I can have all of you replaced inside of a week if I so choose." He speared all the others with his furious glare.

  "Shall I go also then?" Cady asked.

  "Yes, you…" The color faded from his face. "No! You… You can't leave. You owe me."

  She turned to Sam. "Since you don't work for Mortimer anymore, will you tell me where Regina is?"

  A twinkle entered Sam's eyes. "As a matter of—"

  "Wait! I-I didn't fire him." Mortimer's nervous chuckle bore a false ring to it.

  "Yes, you did," Franco said. "We all heard it."

  "W-Well," he stammered. "I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it, right, Thumbs? I mean Sam. You still have your job. I must get back to the train before it departs for Cranesville. I only came back because there were papers here I needed. I'll want you to watch the place."

  He glanced at Cady and added, "You remember what I promised you would happen if you failed me."

  "Yes, sir. I remember." Sam appeared miserable about it too.