Nate plopped onto the bench. His shoulders slumped, his gaze on his boot tips. If he wasn’t getting spanked, then he was in for a hell of an ear-chewing, which was better than having his ass smacked.
Huckabee sat next to him, letting out a deep breath of frustration. “I know you’re scared and worried. I want your pa to pull through this too. So I will overlook your tantrum this time. If there’s a next time, I’ll take my belt to ya ‘cause I do believe that’s what your pa would do.” The marshal lifted Nate’s chin. “Do you understand me, boy?”
Nate nodded.
After taking a breath, the marshal went on. “Now, as far as Jesse’s concerned, based on the things I’ve seen here and all the braggin’ your pa’s done on him, I don’t doubt he can handle himself. Your pa has taught him all he knows about bein’ a good lawman, and I think he is one. If I didn’t trust that he could handle what he might run into, I would’ve gone myself and ordered him to stay here.” The marshal patted Nate’s knee.
Kristy flew through the doors. “The sheriff’s sitting up and drinking broth.” She beamed.
Nate jumped up off the bench, running for the stairs. Huckabee took the steps by twos right behind him. They both breathlessly hit the landing, and in a few running steps, they were at Pa’s bedside.
Sure enough, he was sitting up. He was still pale and was somewhat slumped on the pillows, but his eyes were open and he was holding the bowl by himself.
“Pa.” Nate smiled and carefully slid onto the bed next to his father.
Huckabee pulled up the chair. He, too, was smiling.
“Where’s Jesse?” Pa’s voice sounded pitifully weak.
As Huckabee explained, Nate curled up closer to Pa and thanked the good Lord that he wasn’t going to die, or at least it didn’t seem that way.
All that day, Pa slept off and on and drank more broth. Jesse hadn’t returned by the time Kristy chased Nate upstairs to bed. She’d been teary since Jesse left, and her temper was short.
Huckabee was at the window with his rifle. One of the ladies kept coffee going for him while the others slept. Nate pulled his blanket around his shoulders, curling up on the bed near Pa’s feet where he wouldn’t bump his wound, and he fell asleep.
Three days later and with the number of chickens in the barn dwindling, Nate found himself next to Huckabee, sitting on the bench outside, picking at the eggs on his plate, and watching the trail for Jesse. Nate was worried. Pa was doing better, and that was a big relief. He wasn’t out of bed yet, but he was steadily keeping more broth down.
A horse whinnied, and all the others in the corral lifted their heads. Their ears had perked straight up. Out of the trees along the trail rode Jesse. In tow, he had a man wrapped in a saddle blanket and tied facedown over the saddle and two others who were still alive and tied to their pommels.
Nate leaped to his feet.
The marshal stood, eying the rough-looking lot riding toward them.
Nate tore off. “Jesse!”
When he got close enough, Jesse grabbed his wrist and swung Nate up into the saddle behind him. He gave Jesse a big squeeze around the middle, relieved that he wasn’t dead.
“How’s your pa?” Jesse pulled up reins in front of Huckabee.
“Gettin’ better every day.” Nate couldn’t have been happier. Pa was on the mend, and Jesse had returned safe and sound. His family was okay. Ma would surely be happy when they all got home.
The thought made him recall that real soon, his home might be with the Fletchers. He’d almost forgotten them.
The next day, Jesse hitched the wagon from the barn to the bay and mustang. Pa was helped into the bed, where Kristy and the ladies handmade him a soft pallet of blankets. Kristy took the reins, her little sister at her side. Nate rode in the bed with Pa, who slept most of the time. Jesse and Huckabee guarded the prisoners, and the other ladies all rode the horses of the bad men buried back yonder.
The closer they got to Gray Rock, the more Nate’s thoughts drifted to what awaited him—the Fletchers.
Late the following day, past suppertime, the sun not yet down, they rode as a weary group onto the street of Gray Rock.
The first person Nate saw was Judge Prescott, who had just stepped out of the hotel with Mr. Graham, the town lawyer. They hustled toward the wagon. Kristy pulled up reins. It was suddenly as though the whole town had come alive like bees swarming around a hive. Kristy’s ma and bothers were there out of nowhere, her Pa too. Lots of Nate’s friends and their folks stood by gawking into the wagon bed at Pa, who was much paler than he had been yesterday. Someone called for somebody else to fetch Doc Martin.
Mr. Pike peeked over the back of the wagon and stared at Pa. Somehow he was sleeping through all the ruckus. The jarring wagon ride must have beat what strength he’d gained out of him.
Big John, the Hendersons, and other townsfolk rushed forward. The wagon was surrounded. Lots of jumbled voices asked too many questions, and in Nate’s mind, it was one big ball of noise. He didn’t like them staring at him or Pa. He didn’t want to give them answers, not now. He was tired. He wanted Ma.
Jesse was reined in next to the judge, talking to him. Huckabee took the prisoners ahead to the jailhouse. Hattie was happily crying, as were others. It was all too much for Nate. He buried his face in the blanket covering Pa and sobbed.
A hand smoothed his hair, and he looked up, expecting to see Jesse. It was Deloris Fletcher. Nate screamed as if she’d lit him on fire.
Jesse hopped off his horse into the back of the wagon. In one jump, he was standing on the ground between Nate, Pa, and the Fletchers. “Keep your goldarn hands off him.”
Judge Prescott hurried around to where Jesse stood, Mr. Graham with him. They placed themselves between the feuding parties. Nate didn’t know what was going to happen. Jesse’s fist was drawn back. Mr. Fletcher was yelling over the judge and into Jesse’s face. Mrs. Fetcher paled as she looked around nervously at all the scowling faces.
Pa started to stir. A low moan seeped out of him, and everyone went quiet. No one moved.
Jesse turned to Kristy. “Take him to the house.”
“No,” Kristy’s pa interjected. “My daughter’s comin’ home with me.”
Nate could understand Shorty’s concern. He’d just gotten his two missing daughters back. It was a moment he probably wouldn’t forget, and he didn’t want them out of his sight.
“I’ll bring her home, then. She’s safe with me,” Jesse snapped.
Nate could also see Jesse’s side. Jesse and Kristy were engaged. She wasn’t officially his woman, not yet, but close enough. She wasn’t a little girl. Soon, she’d have a home of her own and probably kids. She was a grown woman.
“Boy, you look like you haven’t slept in days. She’s coming home with her mother and me.” Shorty wasn’t backing down.
He and Jesse eyeballed one another, not in a friendly way. This was no way for a soon-to-be father and son-in-law to behave toward one another. Nate was only eight, and he knew that much. But everyone’s emotions were riled up. When Nate was upset, he sometimes did dumb things, and he suspected grown-ups were no different.
“I’ll take him.” Doc Martin hastily pushed through the crowd. He helped Kristy down, then quickly climbed up onto the seat. Without warning, he slapped leather to the team, and the wagon lurched forward.
Nate didn’t want to leave without Jesse, who thankfully swung into the saddle and fell into pace next to the wagon.
The Fletchers just stared after them.
CHAPTER 21
When the wagon rattled into the yard, Ma must have heard them coming or been keeping watch since they had all gone missing. She was throwing open the door of the house before Doc Martin pulled up on the reins. Ma held her skirt up, rushing down the stairs, and burst through the white picket gate. Her eyes were teary, and Nate knew why. The bay Pa always rode was hitched on a wagon, no Pa in plain sight.
Ma ran to the back of the wagon, breathless when she stopped. Jes
se opened the bed gate, slowly lowering it so Pa was not jarred. Ma gasped, cupping a hand over her mouth. Pa was deathly white, and dried blood covered his shirt and pants. He might have looked worse to her than to the rest of them who’d seen him right after getting shot.
“Mama.” Nate’s voice was soft only because he didn’t feel strong. He was panicked by the grief and look of strained disbelief all over Ma’s face. One glimpse at Pa, and the pink of her cheeks had drained right out. “You can fix him, right?”
Anytime one of them got hurt, Ma was the first to doctor them. Only in rare cases, such as a high fever or broken bones, did she seek Doc Martin’s advice. Usually, she could patch any injury they brought to her. There was a shock in the rigid way she stood while taking in the god-awful sight of Pa, so still and unaware of his surroundings, that for a first, it dawned on Nate that his mother couldn’t mend everything. The sad way she longingly stared at the man she had married, the father of her children, made Nate believe Pa might never recover, as though Ma had lost all hope in ever seeing him open his eyes again.
Would Pa die? The horrible, dreaded thought shriveled Nate’s belief. His heart shattered, and tears burst out of him. If Ma, who was always the encourager, was unsure about Pa’s condition, then how could Nate think otherwise?
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she crawled into the wagon bed alongside Pa, where Nate was knelt beside him. She laid a hand to Pa’s chest and gently rubbed. “Nolan.”
If misery ever had a sound, it was Ma’s sobbing voice choking out Pa’s name.
Nate let out a wail. Why was life so cruel sometimes? Until the wagon ride home, Pa had seemed as though he was getting better. What had changed?
Nate was glad Doc Martin was there. Ma definitely wasn’t in the frame of mind to do much good. She was a sobbing mess, and Nate wasn’t any better. Even Jesse had wetness on his face and was blinking back more.
“Let’s git him inside.” Doc Martin coaxed Ma to leave Pa’s side. She was hunched over him, clinging to his shirt.
Jesse, who seemed anxious to do something other than cry, nodded while wiping at his eyes, then reached for Ma’s hand to help her out of the wagon. Nate scooted out behind her, sticking close to her side.
Doc took a firm hold under Pa’s shoulders while Jesse held his legs. Before they lifted him off the wagon, the sound of a group of horses trotting into the lane lifted their heads. Three men rode toward them. Marshal Huckabee was on the left, Judge Prescott led by half a horse length in the middle, and on the right was none other than Mr. Lem Fletcher. What in the hell? Surely, Nate’s eyes were lying to him. His tears instantly dried up from the sheer shock of seeing that bug-eyed toad.
“Holy hell!” He stomped a foot.
This couldn’t be happening now. Had they come to take Nate—lawman, a judge, and the jackass who wanted custody of him? No. Nate couldn’t believe Pa’s best friend would do that, especially now while Pa was on death’s doorstep. And Huckabee had watched over him the entire ride home.
From all the times he’d worked alongside Pa, Nate did understand that even if a lawman didn’t always agree with a particular ruling, he was bound by his oath to uphold justice as the law had been written. In some matters, a man wearing a badge might not like what he had to do, but he had to act accordingly anyway. It was his duty, and Nate knew Pa took that serious, as did Huckabee. As close and chummy as those two were, Nate figured Huckabee would unpin his badge before he would rip away the son of his best friend. But just in case Nate was wrong, he snatched up a rock and took aim.
“Hold your fire.” Jesse had turned away from the wagon and Pa, who should have been inside in a bed, being tended to, and faced the official-looking trio.
Nate held ready to let loose with that stone.
“I see ya brought the fox to the henhouse.” Jesse shook his head at Huckabee and Prescott, disgusted. He pulled Nate behind him and stood with shoulders wide and feet apart. It was a solid sign that no one was getting past him.
Nate kept his rock poised.
The marshal stepped down from the saddle, reins in hand. “Son, it ain’t like that.” He walked toward the wagon where Pa’s body lay. “It took a bit to break up the crowd after the wagon left. Everyone wanted to know about their sheriff and, of course, the details about rescuin’ the women since we rode in with extra ladies and prisoners. People want to know if there’s reason to be fearful.” Huckabee looked over the side at Pa. “I put Big John to watchin’ the prisoners.”
Nate thought he could see the marshal’s heart jump into his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed, trying to swallow the fact that his friend might not be around tomorrow. “Damn you, Nolan. Don’t you die on me.” Huckabee kicked at the dirt. He looked away then and studied Jesse. “The judge and I left town in such a hurry that it wasn’t ‘til we’d turned into the lane that I caught sight of Fletcher followin’ us.” Huckabee suddenly chuckled.
Nate didn’t know what that laughter was about, but he didn’t think it appropriate, not at a time like this. There stood Ma crying into her apron at the side of the wagon next to Pa. Doc Martin looked sorely irritated that if he didn’t get help to carry Pa inside in the next few seconds, he would do it himself.
Nate was ready to bean Mr. Fletcher with a rock at the next twitch, and Jesse had the look of wanting to kill someone. There wasn’t any guessing who that would be. At the moment, though, Jesse snarled at Huckabee.
“I don’t find him bein’ here one damn bit amusin’.” Jesse was dead serious. His eyes narrowed, and he pointedly glared at Lem Fletcher.
“Oh, it ain’t. I was mad when I first seen him and briefly thought about lettin’ him ride in here on his own. Except I imagined myself havin’ to arrest you … for murder.” The marshal patted Jesse’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I warned him that if he don’t mind his manners as far as Nate’s concerned, I’ll stomp his face into the ground a few times, then throw his ass in jail.”
Judge Prescott slid off his horse, minding what he was doing while probably choosing to ignore the conversation that had just taken place. Fletcher swallowed hard and stayed astride his horse. He seemed to be waiting for Jesse’s invite. Nate would be disappointed if he didn’t get to burst the dandy’s lip with the rock.
“Kate.” Pa’s voice was a gargled simper.
In one swift move, Jesse grabbed Nate, lifting and carrying him while taking two stretching strides. In a breath, they were at the side of the wagon with Ma, looking inside. Pa’s eyes were open, and he weakly raised a hand.
Ma intertwined her fingers with his. Nate could see her knuckles blanch as she gave Pa’s hand a squeeze. “Nolan.”
Pa’s eyes rolled. Then after a few heavy blinks, he focused on their faces. “Boys.” A hint of a grin turned up one corner of his mouth. It was the best thing Nate had seen all day. He couldn’t help but smile through his tears.
“You hang in there, sir,” Jesse said confidently.
A few seconds later, Pa’s eyes fell shut.
“We’ve wasted enough time,” Doc snapped. “We need to get him inside.”
Jesse passed Nate to Ma, and he was glad to be held. He was scared. There had been too much commotion, and he could feel Fletcher watching him.
Jesse, Doc, the marshal, and Judge Prescott lifted Pa off the wagon and carried him toward the house. Ma hurried ahead of them, Nate wrapped in her arms. They were both sniffling and teary. She threw open the picket gate, then held the house door open as they shuffled around to get Pa inside without bumping him on the doorframe. A few minutes later, Pa was in his bed.
Ma put Nate down and went to work with Doc, stripping Pa to examine his wound.
“Nathanial.” Ma called him out of his dismay. “Fetch hot water.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He ran toward the door between all the bodies in the room, not even realizing at first that he’d zipped past Fletcher. Nate didn’t want that man in his house, but he needed to hurry and do what he was able to in order to help Pa.
“I will,” he yelled over his shoulder, not wanting Ma to think he hadn’t heard. Even with Doc Martin there, Ma’s brain was probably racing. Nate’s was. If he could take one little thing away from her to ease her worries, he would.
Ten minutes later, after the water had come to near a boil, he carefully carried a big bowl into the room without sloshing any. Doc was poking around the seeping stitched hole in Pa’s gut. Ma hurried over and took the hot water and clean rags from Nate, setting them on the night table.
The skin around the wound was awful red. It hadn’t been like that before, and every time Doc pushed on it with his finger, Pa groaned and a fair amount of buttery-looking gunk oozed out. Was that what Nate smelled? Whatever the odor, it was foul like something rotting. Pa wore a shirt and was covered in blankets when he’d been carried home in the wagon. Could be that was why the god-awful rancid odor hadn’t been noticed before.
“I need everyone out. Now!” Doc thundered.
Nate began to quake. Something was very wrong. Pa now had the glisten of sweat on his face and all over his bare torso. And Doc never got mean and yelled.
Nate didn’t understand what was going on. He just knew it was bad. “Mama,” he whimpered.
“Baby, you stay with Jesse.” Ma turned Nate toward the door. She never called him baby. She was acting different. All this stress wasn’t good for any of them. Everything seemed out of place.
Tears filled Nate’s eyes. The marshal and the others all hustled, filing out the door in front of him. An odd thought popped into his head. Maybe it came to him because Ma had called him baby. Could all this constant worry that she had probably been doing since before Pa got shot hurt the baby in her belly? This wasn’t the time to ask her, but he hoped not.
Nate wiped a sleeve across his eyes, then followed the trail of heavy footsteps into the hallway. Suddenly, he noticed Jesse was missing. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Jesse talking quietly with Doc and Ma, but only for a few seconds. Then the door snapped shut, and Jesse stood in the hall with Nate. There was wetness in his eyes. He said nothing about what was going on behind that closed door. Though, hurried, rustling noises slid out through the crack below the door.
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