The Outlaw's Daughter

by Margaret Brownley

  “I understand you were a friend of Neal Blackwell.”

  Roberts visually stiffened. “What business is that of yours?”

  Matt reached into his pocket for his badge and laid it on the bar. “Serious business,” he said.

  Roberts eyed the badge with hooded eyes. “I knew him. So what? No law against that.”

  Before Matt could answer, angry voices rang out behind him, followed by the sound of chairs and tables scraping across the straw-scattered floor. Hand on his gun, Matt spun around. Two men were going at it tooth and nail, pounding each other with flying fists. One man fell back against a table, sending coins and playing cards flying in every direction.

  Soon others joined in the fray. Concerned for Jesse’s safety, Matt craned his neck to look for him, but brawling bodies blocked his view.

  Somebody fired a gun, and the mirror over the bar shattered, raining glass onto the shelf of whiskey bottles lined beneath.

  Matt pulled out his Colt. “Stop!” he ordered. Some backed away, but the two men who had started the fight kept pummeling each other.

  “I said stop!” Matt thundered, and this time, the battling duo drew apart, both with battered faces.

  No sooner had Matt restored order than Sheriff Keeler came running through the swinging doors, suspenders flapping by his side. Wielding a pistol in one hand and handcuffs in the other, the sheriff carted the two troublemakers away.

  Matt found Jesse hiding under a table. The boy looked scared to death, but his pa had slept through the whole ruckus. Grimacing in disgust, Matt was tempted to try to shake some sense into the man, but it would probably be a waste of time.

  Matt scanned the room for Roberts, but he was nowhere to be seen. Evidently, he had taken advantage of the fight to make his escape.

  Droopy caught Matt’s eye to indicate that he still owed for two shots of whiskey. Sighing, Matt reached for his money clip.

  The night had been a bust.

  15

  Ellie-May had just finished adding chopped carrots to the cast-iron pot on the stove when Lionel raced into the kitchen. “Ma, Ma!” Breathing hard, his face red from running, he could hardly get his words out. “Come quick!”

  “Lionel, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Anvil was”—Lionel struggled to speak—“b-bit by a snake.”

  Ellie-May slammed her wooden spoon down with a gasp and raced to the pantry to grab the bottle of medicinal whiskey from the upper shelf. “Where is he?”

  “In the barn.”

  Racing through the parlor, Ellie-May ran out of the house and down the porch steps with Lionel at her heel. Feet pounding the hard-packed ground, she sprinted across the yard and reached the barn out of breath.

  She found Anvil slumped against a wooden post, the leg of his overalls pulled up. Next to him, Alicia held a bloody-tipped knife in her hand.

  Ellie-May dropped to her knees by her daughter’s side and set the whiskey bottle on the ground. After glancing at the rawhide tourniquet and cross-cut wound, she took the knife from her daughter’s hand. “Did you?”

  Anvil answered for Alicia. “I did the cuttin’. She tied the tourniquet.” He grimaced as if in pain. “Dang, rattler snuck up on me.”

  Ellie-May uncapped the whiskey bottle and poured a dollop of the liquid on his wound. “Alicia, ride to the Buttonwood ranch and ask Mrs. Buttonwood to have one of her ranch hands fetch Doc Avery.”

  “Don’t need no sawbones.” Anvil looked like he was struggling to speak. “It was a dry bite.”

  “You don’t know that,” Ellie-May said, but already Anvil’s eyes had drifted shut. She leaned over him, and his labored breathing worried her.

  Lionel dropped to his knees by her side. “Is he gonna die?”

  “Not if I can help it.” Ellie-May pressed a hand on Anvil’s forehead. “Hold on, dear friend. I’ll be back.”

  Standing, she motioned her daughter to follow her with a wave of her hand. She let herself into the first stall and saddled her horse, Jingles, adjusting the stirrup for Alicia’s height.

  “Ride carefully,” she said. She hated having to send her young daughter on such an errand, but she didn’t want to leave Anvil alone in his condition.

  “I can ride into town myself, Mama.”

  “No. It’s too far.” Alicia was a good rider, but she had never ridden as far as town. “Go to Mrs. Buttonwood. She’ll know what to do.”

  Ellie-May helped her daughter fork the horse and readjusted the stirrups. “Be careful.”

  After Alicia had ridden away, Ellie-May turned to her pale-faced son. “Lionel, run to the house and fetch a bowl of water and a clean towel.” She then hurried back to Anvil’s side and took his hand in hers.

  His skin had turned ash-gray, and his breathing was shallow. “I’m here,” she whispered and said a quick prayer.

  Moments later, the sound of hoofbeats outside made her shoot to her feet and hurry to the barn door. Alicia couldn’t possible have made it to Mrs. Buttonwood’s ranch and back in such a short time, but there she was.

  “Alicia, what’s wrong?” she called. “Why did you come back?”

  Alicia slid out of the saddle. “I met a man on the road, and he said he would fetch the doctor for me.”

  “What man?” Ellie-May asked, taking the reins from her daughter and tethering the horse to a railing.

  “I don’t know his name, But he’s a friend of Jesse’s. He said he could travel faster.”

  “Jesse?” She thought a moment. “Did this man ride a black horse?”

  Alicia nodded.

  Ellie-May’s heart skipped a beat. It sure did sound like Matt Taggert. Once again, she recalled how he’d held her and wiped away her tears. Now, as always, the memory of strong arms flooded her with warm feelings. Then her thoughts took a disturbing turn. She was now dependent upon the one man who could ruin her children’s lives if she wanted to save Anvil.

  Knotting her hands together, Ellie-May closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. Feeling Alicia’s hand on her arm, Ellie-May opened her eyes and gazed into her daughter’s face.

  “Did I do right, Mama?” Alicia asked with a worried look.

  Ellie-May pressed her hand gently against her daughter’s cheek. “You did fine, dear heart.”

  Lionel returned carrying a bowl of water and a towel over his arm. Though he was walking slowly and trying his best not to spill, water splashed over the side of the bowl. Snapping out of her troubled thoughts, Ellie-May took the half-empty bowl from him and rushed to Anvil’s side.

  * * *

  Matt spurred his horse to a full gallop and led the way along the dirt-packed road to the Blackwell farmhouse. The doctor’s horse and buggy rattled behind him like a bag of old bones.

  Ellie-May appeared at the door of the barn the moment Matt arrived at the farm and waved them over. Her young son and daughter stood by her side, looking every bit as grim as their mother.

  Matt rode up to where they were standing and dismounted. For once, Ellie-May’s guard didn’t go up when she saw him. If anything, she looked glad to see him. Or at the very least, relieved.

  He wrapped his horse’s reins around a railing. “Your daughter said someone was bit by a belled snake.”

  Ellie-May nodded, her eyes dark beneath her furrowed forehead. “Yes, my farmhand. His name is Anvil.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  She shook her head. “Not good.”

  The doctor drove up a moment later. He grabbed his black leather bag from the buggy floor and joined them. Dressed in black trousers and frock coat, a felt hat riding upon his wizened head, the doctor’s presence seemed to have a calming effect on Ellie-May.

  Greeting him with a look of relief, she motioned him to the barn. “Anvil’s in there,” she said.

  Matt fell in line behind the doc
tor as Ellie-May led the way. The two children followed behind.

  Matt took one look at the man named Anvil and shook his head. It sure did look as if Ellie-May’s farmhand had been tossed by an angry bull. He was slumped over, his face gray and forehead damp with sweat. It didn’t take much to see that Ellie-May had good reason to worry.

  “Let’s get him moved over there,” Doc Avery said, indicating a straw-strewn pallet with a nod of his head.

  Matt grabbed Anvil beneath the arms, and the doctor picked the man up by his feet. Together, they lifted him over to the pallet and laid him down flat. Matt reached for a saddle blanket. After rolling it up, he placed it under Anvil’s head. He then moved away to give the doctor room to work.

  Ellie-May stood motionless, her face pale and forehead creased with a worried frown. Matt sought her eyes and gave her what he hoped was a look of reassurance. Had her children not been clinging to her side, he might have been tempted to comfort her in his arms.

  Instead, he reached for the piece of hay caught in her hair. A startled look crossed her face until he held the yellow stalk where she could see it.

  “Thank you,” she said, sounding breathless. Her hand flew to her hair where his hand had been.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Dropping her hand, she moistened her lips and nodded.

  Lionel stared up at Matt. “Is he a bad man, Mama?” he asked.

  Arching an eyebrow, Matt locked Ellie-May in his gaze. He could hardly blame the boy for thinking such a thing. It wasn’t that long ago that his mother had held him at gunpoint in this very barn.

  “No, no. He’s a Texas Ranger,” Ellie-May said. Two spots of pink appeared on her cheeks, making Matt wonder if she’d recalled him holding her and wiping away her tears.

  Kneeling by Anvil’s side, the doctor pulled his monaural stethoscope out of his black bag and leaned over his patient. He checked Anvil’s heart and lungs and examined the wound.

  “Looks like a shallow bite,” he announced.

  “That’s good,” Matt said. A shallow bite meant less venom had been released. He’d hoped the news would relieve Ellie-May’s mind, but the worried frown remained.

  Doc Avery pulled back and slipped the stethoscope back into his bag. “Not much we can do right now ’cept make him comfortable.”

  “Will he be all right?” Ellie-May asked.

  “We’ll know better in a few hours.” The doctor glanced around. “Is there some place we can put him meanwhile?”

  “He lives in the loft,” Ellie-May said, pointing upward.

  The doctor regarded the ladder with a dubious look before shaking his head. “I’m not about to carry him up there.”

  “He can use my bed,” Lionel said. “I’ll sleep with Alicia.”

  Alicia folded her arms across her middle. “You will not!”

  “Hush, children,” Ellie-May said. “We’ll work it out later.” She nodded. “Let’s take him to the house.”

  With Matt doing most of the heavy lifting, he and the doctor managed to move Anvil from the barn, across the yard, and up the steps of the porch. Inside the house, Ellie-May led the way down a hall to a small but tidy room and turned down the covers on one of the two beds. She then stepped aside.

  Matt and the doctor maneuvered Anvil’s body onto the thin straw mattress.

  After giving Ellie-May instructions for the man’s care, the doctor prepared to leave. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on him.”

  While Ellie-May showed the doctor to the door, Matt pulled off the man’s boots. Lionel and Alicia stood a short distance away, watching quietly. The girl looked worried, but the boy assessed Matt through eyes that were as distrustful as they were curious.

  Matt freed the man from his overalls. It was necessary to cut the canvas fabric with his knife so as not to disturb the wound. By the time Ellie-May returned with a basin of water, Matt had managed to strip Anvil down to his long johns.

  He took the sponge from her. “Let me,” he said.

  Without knowing the full extent of Anvil’s condition, he gave her an encouraging smile—anything to wipe the worried look off her face. His efforts paid off as the furrows melted from her forehead and the corners of her pretty pink mouth turned upward.

  Pulling his gaze away from her, he dipped the sponge into the basin and squeezed out the excess water. He then set to work sponging Anvil’s damp face and arms. The man felt hot, as if on fire. While he worked, Ellie-May sent the children out of the room and opened the window.

  The sun was about to set, and the curtains billowed in the cool, light breeze. After dabbing Anvil’s face and neck, Matt tossed the sponge into the basin.

  Ellie-May moved to Anvil’s side. She pressed her hand gently against her farmhand’s rough cheek and brushed a strand of gray hair from his forehead. Watching her, Matt couldn’t help but wonder what that same small hand would feel like on his own forehead, his own flesh.

  “He feels a little cooler,” she said. The eyes lifting to his begged for Matt to agree. He nodded, and her gaze softened. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t do that much,” Matt said.

  “You did more than you know.” She moved away from the bed with a sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do if he…” She shuddered. “I couldn’t have gotten through this past year without him. He’s not just my farmhand; he’s a very good friend.”

  “I’m sure he feels the same about you.” Matt’s gaze drifted to her lips, which looked just as tempting today as the other morning in his hotel room. Clamping down on his wayward thoughts, he tossed a nod at the door. “I reckon I’ll let you attend to your family.”

  “Please.” Hesitating, she reached for a strand of yellow hair that had escaped from her bun and wrapped it around her ear. “Won’t…won’t you stay for supper?”

  The invitation surprised him. “Well, I…don’t want to cause you any more trouble than you already have.” He felt bad that she now had a patient to take care of, along with her other duties.

  “No trouble,” she said. “I can’t offer you anything fancy. Just beef stew.”

  Now that she mentioned it, his stomach was growling. If the tantalizing smell that could only be coming from the kitchen was a clue, he’d be crazy to turn down her offer.

  “If you’re sure it’s no bother,” he said with a grin.

  Ellie-May smiled back, and his heart did a funny little flutter. It was the first real smile he’d seen on her since arriving at the farm.

  “It’s no bother,” she said. “Besides, I owe you for breakfast at the Feedbag Café.” She called to her daughter. “Alicia, set another place at the table.” After checking on Anvil once again, she led the way out of the room.

  Following her to the kitchen, Matt ignored the niggling voice inside that cautioned him to leave before he got any more involved with Ellie-May and her family.

  16

  The house was small and sparsely furnished but had a warm, homey feeling that filled Matt with an unfamiliar longing. Gingham curtains fluttered from the open kitchen windows, and the table was set with a white linen cloth and vase of fresh flowers.

  The savory smell rising from the cast-iron Dutch oven made his mouth water in anticipation. He tried to remember when he’d last had a home-cooked meal and couldn’t. The hasty meals cooked over campfires by saddle-worn Rangers hardly qualified as edible, let alone home-cooked.

  He’d not considered himself a family man, had never thought to settle down. But the domestic scene appealed to his senses, and he found himself relaxing for the first time in a long while. Of course, it helped that he didn’t have Jesse to worry about. The boy was scheduled to work tonight, and that was a blessing. The truth was, caring for the boy and seeing that he got proper rest and plenty to eat had already taken up too much of Matt’s time.

  Ellie-May’s voice cut into
his thoughts. “Alicia, show Mr. Taggert where he can wash up.”

  Alicia led him out the back door to the rain barrel at the side of the house. The girl chatted the entire time, jumping from subject to subject with hardly a breath in between. In the span of only a few minutes, she had filled Matt in on all the details of her young life, which seemed to be made up primarily of school and chores.

  Her brother remained silent. Instead, he watched Matt like a cat watched a mouse.

  Matt tossed a nod at the homemade fishing pole leaning against the side of the house. “You like to fish?” he asked the boy.

  The corners of Lionel’s mouth tilted in a shadow of a smile, but before he had a chance to answer, Alicia spoke for him. “That’s all he wants to do is fish,” she said with a look of pained tolerance.

  Encouraged by the boy’s smile, however faint, Matt asked, “Catch any?”

  Lionel shook his head with his usual seriousness. “Alicia makes too much noise and scares the fish away.”

  “I do not,” Alicia said with an indignant toss of her head. “Anvil said fish can only hear sounds that are underwater.”

  “That’s not true,” Lionel said stubbornly.

  Brother and sister were still debating the subject when the three of them returned to the house, which brought a frown to their mother’s face.

  “Are you two still arguing about fish?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid I’m to blame,” Matt said. “I didn’t know I was bringing up a touchy subject.”

  “Lionel takes fishing seriously,” Ellie-May said and set four bowls of steaming stew on the table, along with a basket of freshly baked bread.

  “Fishing is serious,” Matt said.

  “Do you fish?” Ellie-May asked.

  “Every chance I get.” Matt sought the boy’s eyes. “When you’re on the trail, sometimes a fish is the only thing between you and starvation.” For once, Lionel had dropped his suspicious look and now regarded Matt with keen interest. “Did your pa teach you to fish?”

  “No,” Lionel said, his face scrunched in a frown.