A Man with a Past

by Mary Connealy

  “I’m sorry, Molly. I should have checked before we left. I’ve been leaving everything in the house to you, and the doctoring, and there’s been plenty of it.”

  “I’ve wanted the job. I’ve needed a way to help out, but Kevin . . .” Molly’s eyes came up. She felt the fierce anger of being abandoned with too few supplies and a man who might well be dying.

  “What?” Kevin was only kind, only always her best friend as well as her brother. But he’d betrayed her when he’d eloped with Win. Oh, not a terrible betrayal, understandable honestly, but it had shaken Molly wide awake.

  This day. This long, frightening day had hit her, too. None of this was hers.

  It might be that Kevin had an honest claim to it, but she didn’t.

  Andy had cowboying.

  Kevin had Win.

  Cheyenne was a rancher.

  Win a married lady now.

  “The school session should start up any day now. I believe I mentioned I’m going to apply for the job, and if I get it, I’ll go.”

  “Molly, no! You can’t—”

  She cut him off. “I’m going to find a life of my own.”

  “I want you here with me. I’m building a cabin soon.”

  Talking over him, she said, “A cabin for you and your wife. And that’s as it should be.”

  Something flickered in Kevin’s eyes and was gone so quickly she could lie to herself and say she hadn’t seen it. But she had. She did her best not to flinch. But she saw the truth in him. He did want a cabin and a life with Win. It was as it should be. That was only right.

  “Cheyenne and Falcon haven’t come back. It’s been too long.” She wrung out a cloth and pressed it to Wyatt’s fevered brow. “I can only hope they’re after Ralston and will finish this by capturing him.”

  Win rushed in with the pillowcases and towels.

  A glance at her told Molly that Win had heard enough to know Molly was leaving. Well, Win couldn’t go back to teaching. She had told Molly that when they’d talked about the teacher job. No married woman would be allowed the job. Now that they knew Clovis and her ma’s marriage wasn’t legal, Molly wasn’t even born outside of marriage anymore. Kevin was. Her reason for being fired from teaching back in Kansas was no more.

  Andy rushed in with a bucket of ice, chipped from a block. Ready to use.

  “Thank you, Andy, that’s just what I needed. If Wyatt gets well—”

  Win’s shocked gasp stopped the words.

  “No!” Andy shouted.

  “When,” Molly corrected quickly. “I meant when he gets well.”

  She looked at Andy, sorry for scaring him. “I do mean when, Andy. I expect him to be fine.”

  She prayed in her deepest soul God would protect Wyatt. Protect this whole family. Protect her when she was out on her own with no one.

  “When he gets well, I’m going to get the teaching job and move to Bear Claw Pass.” She talked as she worked.

  “Molly, we need you here,” Andy said.

  They really didn’t.

  But they loved her, her brothers. She knew that. She didn’t bother arguing with Andy. She’d already been clear with Kevin. “When he gets well, I’ll go, but I’ll come out if anyone needs doctoring.”

  She hoped, after her bold declaration, that she got the teaching job. But it mattered not. If the school wouldn’t hire her, someone else would. She was a fine cook and kept a tidy house. She could find work in a diner or cleaning a hotel if there was one. And if not in Bear Claw Pass, then she’d go somewhere else to find work. Her family loved and wanted her, but they didn’t need her anymore. She felt like a poor relation being kept around out of duty. She needed to be needed. It felt as important as life and death. Whatever she did, she was done living here.

  She wrung out the cloth and rested it on Wyatt’s fevered brow. She put just a thin layer of ice in one pillowcase, spread a towel under Wyatt’s head, and rested his neck on the ice. Kevin was there, helping her lift Wyatt a bit so she could get the ice in place and make sure it wasn’t uncomfortable and lumpy for Wyatt to rest on.

  “Let’s put ice in two pillowcases and—” She went back to rapping out orders, and everyone jumped to obey.

  A brother who was young enough to almost think of her as his mother, but he was growing up and was even out in the bunkhouse with the men.

  A brother who was once her closest companion, her partner in caring for a farm and a young boy, and who now wanted a home with his wife.

  Rubin came in with several jars of medicine, and the others, all but Molly, gave way to him so she could see what he had.

  Working with the medicine ended the unpleasant talk of her leaving. Yes, her time was past to live with her brothers, like some kind of child still in the family home. Or considering all the people who’d been leaving the work to her, more like an unpaid servant.

  She’d been cooking for and cleaning a home that wasn’t hers. She felt the self-pity well up in her, and she was disgusted with herself. She ruthlessly shoved the pathetic thoughts from her brain and focused on Wyatt. Some of these medicines she’d never used before, and she listened intently as Rubin told her how to prepare them.

  It was a relief to stop talking and go back to fighting for Wyatt’s life.

  Cheyenne led a grim parade. A picket line of four horses, each with a man draped over the saddle. Two alive, two dead. Amelia rode after the four downed men. Falcon brought up the rear.

  They were headed for Bear Claw Pass with prisoners and a story to tell.

  Cheyenne took the lead. She figured Falcon could probably find the way home, but even she wasn’t sure where they were for a while, so she wanted to take charge.

  She needed to contact the other ranchers and tell them where their cattle were. By the time Mathers was done unloading his gun, along with Amelia and Cheyenne, all the ruckus had sent the cattle running wild. Since none had been left in the canyon once Mathers had appeared, who knew how far they might roam?

  They reached Bear Claw Pass in another forty minutes, and the first thing she did was find two riders. One she sent to the HC to get Roger Hanson, and the other to North Bend Ranch to tell Judd Black Wolf what was going on.

  She hadn’t even tried to explain where those cattle were. Instead, she’d told the messengers who she was and to have the men come find her. She’d lead Hanson and Black Wolf out to the canyon and help them find the cattle, wherever they’d gotten to.

  She also sent a rider to the Hawkins Ranch for Rachel Hobart to come fetch Amelia. Cheyenne figured Hobart would take charge of Amelia, but if necessary, Cheyenne would let the young woman stay at the RHR until it was decided how she’d arrange to go home.

  Amelia had objected when she’d heard about the message to Hobart because any message would also be heard by Oliver.

  “Stay with me, Cheyenne. I’ve no liking for Oliver Hawkins, and I don’t want to be alone with him—ever.”

  Cheyenne felt her forehead furrow. Amelia had said a similar thing about Mathers and had gone on to shoot the man. She hoped Amelia had no plans to unload a gun at Oliver.

  Amelia sounded like a fairly tough young woman. Somewhat lacking in common sense but bold. Cheyenne couldn’t fathom being afraid of Oliver. He was just too mild mannered. So why didn’t Amelia want to be alone with him? Maybe she was just generally afraid of men.

  It hadn’t been a long ride back to Bear Claw Pass. They’d been days on the trail following Ralston, but those had been slow, painstaking miles searching for a well-hidden trail. Cheyenne pressed hard to get to town in a fraction of the time, since the fool outlaws had squandered most of the day with their poor cattle driving.

  They had ridden into Bear Claw Pass just as the sun was setting. She was weary to the bone and wanted desperately to sleep in her own bed.

  She hoped the sheriff locked these prisoners in a cell and let Cheyenne, Falcon, and Amelia come back tomorrow to explain things.

  She remembered she was supposed to get married the next t
ime they were in town, but taking prisoners and killing a man had sapped all the romance out of her. Not to say she didn’t fully intend to marry Falcon, she did. Oh, she surely did.

  But not tonight.

  It would have to wait until she’d rested and dealt with the law.

  And going home reminded her of Wyatt. She thought they’d get home to find him up and about. Fussing and fuming because he was laid up with his shoulder. But well on the mend. She couldn’t wait to see him.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Get up here now!” Molly’s roaring voice greeted Cheyenne when she shoved open the back door.

  She’d been surprised to see so many lights on so late.

  It was sheer reflex that made her turn and yell, “Falcon, get in here!”

  He was leading the horses to the barn.

  It was enough noise that someone came stumbling out of the bunkhouse in their longhandles with a hastily pulled on pair of pants.

  The hand grabbed the horses from Falcon, and he sprinted toward the house. Cheyenne had already shed her hat and gloves.

  She looked at Amelia, who was wide-eyed from the commotion.

  Cheyenne jabbed her finger at a kitchen chair. “Stay.”

  Running for the stairs, she almost slammed into Andy running down.

  Andy turned and ran back up. “Wyatt’s bad. Bad.”

  Andy looked behind him, one lightning glance full of dread.

  Cheyenne saw grief.

  Running faster, she stormed into Wyatt’s room. Full of people. Falcon came in hard on her heels.

  Molly was frazzled. Her fine, blond hair was sticking up as if it hadn’t been combed in two weeks. Two months maybe. Her pale blue eyes raging, she snapped, “Get over here, Cheyenne. Now.”

  Cheyenne was there before Molly could finish ordering her over.

  “Cheyenne. Chey.” The mumbling went on. He’d called her Chey, which sounded like shy. Like she was a delicate little shrinking violet. She rested one hand on his forehead and felt the fire inside him.

  “Wyatt, I’m here.” She leaned down, terrified at the vivid red flush to his skin, the hollow of his cheeks, as if he were fading away right before her eyes.

  “Cheyenne.” He grabbed her wrist so hard she thought she’d be bruised tomorrow. But she wanted the contact. She took her free hand and caught hold of his grasp.

  “I’m here. Wyatt, I’m here now.”

  “Chey. You’re all right.” Then he seemed to collapse. His muscles went slack.

  “No, Wyatt! No!”

  Molly grabbed her shoulders and lifted her out of the way. “That’s what I needed.”

  “Is he—is he—is he—”

  “He’s sleeping.” Molly took Cheyenne’s hand with her own fragile one and rested it flat on Wyatt’s chest. Through the panic, Cheyenne felt the steady, if rapid, beating heart.

  “He’s just sleeping. He wakes up from time to time and gets agitated and calls for you. He fights me, tries to get up, won’t take a drink, won’t lie still for the ice and cool cloths. And he doesn’t have the energy to waste on whatever fevered fears he has about you.”

  Molly released Cheyenne and got hold of her shoulders again and pulled her tight into her arms.

  Shocked, Cheyenne let herself be held. Let it push back the awful moment when Wyatt had passed out and gone limp. The moment when she thought her brother was dead.

  Letting herself be held was so odd. So nice. Tears burned in her eyes. She was horrified to think she’d cry over a hug. Pressing one hand to her eyes, she let Molly hang on. Or maybe Molly was just too strong for Cheyenne to get loose.

  Which was surprising because Molly seemed fragile, fine-boned, and pale. But there was strength in her, lots of it.

  Cheyenne sniffled and swiped her wrist across her eyes before straightening away from Molly and turning back to Wyatt.

  Win and Kevin stood on the far side of the bed. Andy behind them. Rubin paced in the few empty spaces in the crowded room.

  “What happened?” Cheyenne demanded. “He was fine when I left him.”

  “Well, he’s not fine now,” Molly snapped. “Don’t waste my time with foolish questions. Win, more tea.”

  Win ran from the room like a lowly private being threatened by a general.

  “Rubin, that’s the last of the yarrow, where’s my new supply?”

  “I’ll fetch whatever’s left in the bunkhouse and send a man running to town for more of everything at first light.” Rubin rushed out.

  “Andy!”

  “Ice—I’m going.” And Andy ran like wolves were nipping at his heels.

  “I’ll get dry towels and pillowcases.” Kevin was gone before Molly could open her mouth.

  Cheyenne rushed around the bed to sit down by Wyatt. “Tell me what to do. I want to help.”

  “I need you to stay here. There’s not much for you to do unless he has one of those spells where he calls out for you. I’ve got to have you here to hand.”

  Molly looked at her, blinked, then looked again. “You’re a filthy mess.”

  Cheyenne touched her hair, her face. “I am?”

  Molly turned her attention back to Wyatt. “Yes, and you look like you’re played out. Go clean up and get to bed. Don’t expect a good night’s sleep because I’ll be waking you every single time I need you.”

  Cheyenne didn’t run like the others. Instead, she studied her brother and prayed her heart out for God to touch him and heal him. Not even close to finished, she got up and left.

  Falcon was waiting in the hallway when she strode out the door. She caught his hand as she walked to her room. “I guess now isn’t a good time to tell them we’re getting married. If Wy-Wyatt—if he, if—” Her voice broke, and she couldn’t go on.

  “Get in there and clean up,” Falcon said. “You should sleep, but if she needs you to be with him, then you’ll go be with him. We’ll tell them we solved all the crimes, found Amelia—”

  Cheyenne punched herself in the head. “I forgot about her. Send her up here. She can sleep in Win’s old room tonight.”

  “Okay. And we can tell them we’re getting married as soon as Wyatt can stand up for the I do’s.”

  Cheyenne threw herself into Falcon’s arms. “He looks so weak, so sick.”

  Falcon held her tight. She thought he might’ve gone on holding her, just standing there, forever. He would have if she’d needed him. Knowing that warmed her trembling, frightened heart. Finally, she let go and rushed into her room to shed her trail-worn clothes, wash up, and get back to her brother.

  While she changed, she heard Falcon go back to Wyatt’s room and ask what he could do to help. She met him going out while she was going in.

  “I’m going to bring Amelia up,” he said. “I keep forgetting we even brought her home.”

  Cheyenne found her first smile since she’d gotten home. “I do too.” She caught his arm. Their eyes met.

  He didn’t hug her or draw her close. He just raised his hands to support her elbows as she rested her hands flat on his chest. Just for a few seconds, he held her up.

  Everything she’d ever wanted in a man was in that support, in that one short stretch of time.

  Then he gave her a firm nod and stepped out of her way. To let her care for her brother knowing he’d take care of everything else for as long as she needed him to.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Cheyenne woke with a start, sat up as if a bolt of lightning had hit her in the backside. Then she was on her feet, twisting around to see Wyatt. Still more unconscious than asleep. His face red from the fever. Wet from Molly’s relentless cool bathing.

  Molly worked on. She raised her eyes for a brief second to look at Cheyenne, then went to wring out her cloth. “We need more ice.”

  Cheyenne took one step before she realized Andy was there. He grabbed the basin he’d brought ice in before and ran.

  Then Cheyenne looked more closely at Molly. “When’s the last time you slept?”

  Molly rested the
cloth on Wyatt’s forehead before she answered. “I slept some in the night.”

  But Cheyenne hadn’t slept much, and she’d never seen Molly stop. Somewhere along the line, near morning because the sun was just barely up now, Cheyenne must have tipped over and slept beside her brother while Molly worked on.

  “Let me take over. You look ready to collapse.”

  “There should be two people with him, and one of them has to be you. Win and Kevin finally went to bed. I’ll rest when they get back and after I’ve made breakfast.” The look Molly gave Cheyenne was strange. Calm, but something more, something deeply buried. Cheyenne was just too worried and too tired to figure out what it was, but Molly had a fire tamped down inside, and like a pot boiling with the lid on too tight, Cheyenne thought this hardworking woman needed to let off a little steam before she exploded.

  Sleep might be a good place to start.

  “Amelia used to be the housekeeper at the Hawkins Ranch. She can cook while you sleep.”

  Molly sniffed but didn’t say anything, just went back to fighting Wyatt’s fever.

  He stirred. “Cheyenne, Chey!”

  He’d said that so many times. Cheyenne sat beside him, took his hand, and talked to him. It calmed him to know, in his confused state, that she was there. His big sister who had always been there was with him still.

  He was agitated, which was as close as he got to being awake. While Cheyenne soothed, Molly got more herbed drink into him, more water. She even got him to swallow a few spoons of broth. Then Molly made up fresh ice packs and put one behind his neck. One over top of his head. She set one on each side of his belly and chest. By the time she finished, the willow bark and yarrow seemed to calm him.

  “He’s going to get well, isn’t he?” Cheyenne hated how weak she sounded, like a child asking an adult for comforting lies.

  “I think he will, Cheyenne.” Molly reached across Wyatt’s still body and clutched Cheyenne’s wrist. “A fever is normal for a wound like this. The wonder is it didn’t come up that first night before you and Falcon left. I rebandaged the wound while you were sleeping. There’s no sign of infection. And the tea works to fight off the fever. If it was going too high and we couldn’t bring it down, I’d be more worried.”