Carla Kelly (39 page)

“I mean it,” she said, forgetting the schoolmarm approach, which was proving monumentally ineffective. Quite possibly someone like McAtee had never prospered in the classroom. “Colby's here to protect me.”

He laughed, which made Julia's skin crawl. “You've been duped, you and your oh-so-smart Injun. Colby's my half brother, and I guess that Injun girl was more trouble than she was worth. I told him he could do what he wanted with her, but he's picky about women. Me oh my, Mrs. Paul Injun Otto—the joke's on you!”

Julia felt her face go pale. She sank down into a chair at the table. “What are you saying?” she asked as every miniscule strategy she had cobbled together on short notice fled her mind.

“My half brother!” he crowed, triumphant. “Not worth much to anyone, but blamed if he ain't loyal.”

“Colby helped me at the cow gather. We thought—”

“You thought!” he said bitterly. “Not enough, apparently, you and your half-breed. I told ol’ Colby about James and set him to figuring how he could get hired on the Double Tipi to find him. He was tired of working for the skinflint Clyde brothers. And there you were, all helpless. Me oh my, you were a pigeon for the plucking.”

Silent, Julia thought back through the spring and summer, and the times McAtee had made his shadowy presence known through the campfire and notes. “Colby knew when we were going to Cheyenne. And when you showed up on the ridge, he rode right up there to investigate. Did you two have a nice chat?” she asked.

“We did, little missy.” He chortled. “Kinda made me laugh, all that trouble your Injun's been having with the Association. He's not so proud now.”

“No, he isn't,” she agreed.
Maybe if I keep him talking
, she thought, then her mind went blank again. What possible good would come from keeping him talking? There was no one around to help. All the stockmen were at the cow gather, with the exception of a few smaller outfits. Allen Cuddy was an hour and a half away, and she knew the Marlowes had gone to the gather. She could keep McAtee talking for days, and it would make no difference in the end.

Funny she should think that last summer's fires were the worst punishment Wyoming could throw at her. She put her hands over her belly, cradling her child. The stakes were so much higher now. If she died, so would her child. She couldn't help the sob that rose in her throat, thinking about Mama and Papa and another horrible telegram. And Paul.
Are you strong enough for that, my love?
she asked herself.
I know I couldn't manage without you
.
I wouldn't know how to begin
.
I have to stay alive
, she thought.
No matter what happens to me, I have to stay alive
.

“Ah, Mrs. Otto, I didn't mean to make you cry,” McAtee said, his false sympathy obscene to her. “Where's James?”

Julia swallowed, forcing down her terror. “He is far away from here and you'll never find him, Mr. McAtee.”

Before she could react, he grabbed her shoulders, which made her cry out with the aggravation to her old injury. He lifted her and shook her like a doll, his face right in hers, then threw her back down in the chair. Her hands went to her belly again, her protection so puny that it made him laugh to watch.

“You don't seem to understand what I can do to you both,” he said. “Let's see. A pistol. A knife.”

“I do,” she gasped, blinking back tears. She kept her voice low, forcing him to listen. “What
you
don't seem to understand is that James is even more terrified of you than you are of him. He will never tell anyone what happened that night, when you burned down his home with his family inside it. I don't think you meant to do anything beyond frightening them away.”

Do I sound reasonable?
she asked herself as he stared at her. “I'm sorry that tragedy is weighing so heavily on your mind, especially when you didn't mean to do it.”

She allowed herself an even breath as he sat down at the table, his face a study in confusion. There may have been remorse mingled there too; she couldn't tell. He looked like a man driven beyond compassion by the horror of a fire deep in winter, with people screaming and dying. Julia couldn't imagine where the emotion came from, but she suddenly felt sorry for Mr. McAtee.
He's a beggar too, isn't he, Father?
she thought, as her mind calmed down.
I'm having trouble with it, but you love him
.

She folded her hands in her lap. “James is no threat to you. Your secret is safe with him. And me too, if you'll just leave this range.”

Please, Father, my husband and I have prayed together for our protection
, she told the Lord. Her mind cleared as she remembered standing with Paul and her parents in the Salt Lake Temple and looking into the mirrors that reflected them through the eternities. Life was tough, dirty, and difficult, but she wanted more hard times on the range; more time with her child, kicking her right now; more time with her husband, whom she loved so much that the knowledge of it stunned her; more time with her parents and brothers, enjoying their gentle companionship.

If this is all I have, Lord, I thank thee for it
, she prayed, calm now and in control.
More would have been sweet. I'll just have to turn what remains of my life over to thee
. For the second time in as many years, she gave it all away.

They stared at each other.

“I'm not going to kill you,” he said finally. “Just ruin you, so the Injun won't want you back.”

You have no idea who you're dealing with
, she thought. “He will always want me, Mr. McAtee,” she said quietly. “He's mine forever.”

Julia saw uncertainty wavering somewhere in Mr. McAtee's wild eyes. She jumped when a second shot rang out, and he jumped too, then leaped to his feet to look out the window.

Colby must have found poor Kringle,
Julia thought, rubbing her arms. “Kringle was a good man, even though he didn't say much,” she told Mr. McAtee. “Colby didn't need to do that. Kringle is so arthritic he can barely get around.”

“Shut up!” McAtee roared at her, and she flinched.

He opened the door to the side porch as a third shot sounded, followed by a high-pitched yelp. Poor Magnus. McAtee laughed and closed the door again, coming toward her, one hand on his belt, his pistol in the other.

It's my turn
, she thought. Her throat grew dry and her palms sweaty. There it was again, twice in one life, that moment when all her being centered on giving everything away without complaint. She was silent, her eyes on Mr. McAtee's face, taking some small satisfaction from the fact that he could not meet her gaze. She made no attempt to stop the silent tears that slid down her cheeks.

As she looked so fixedly on Mr. McAtee's face, she noticed the back door open slowly, slowly.
Colby too?
she thought.
Oh, please, no, Father.

“Get up and move back.”

Julia heard it distinctly, but no one had spoken. The words came from somewhere right behind her head, even though she knew no one stood there.
You've ignored a lot of good counsel today, Julia Otto
, she admonished herself.
Pay attention
.

She stood up slowly as the side door continued to open and stepped back toward the dining room door. Her hand brushed against the forgotten knife rest in her pocket. She slowly put her hand in her pocket and wrapped her fingers around it. The door was wide open now, but Mr. McAtee was concentrating on his trouser buttons and trying to hold his gun on her at the same time. She took a deep breath and then another as she recognized John Kaiser in the doorway, his pistol out, motioning to her to move sideways. She moved without question, then spoke clearly.

“Mr. Kaiser, don't kill him. I don't want a dead man in my kitchen.”

McAtee quit fumbling at his buttons and stared at her. “You're not a very good actress, Mrs. Injun Otto. Colby's a lot better.”

“He certainly is,” she agreed. “I'll never be as good as Colby. He fooled us completely.” She looked at Mr. Kaiser again, noting that his pistol was cocked and level. “Just wing him, Mr. Kaiser. He's probably deranged, and I know he's drunk. Let the law deal with him.”

Kaiser nodded. He motioned his pistol sideways one more time, and she moved quickly out of range. At the same time, she threw the knife rest—the most useless wedding present anyone moving to Wyoming ever received.

McAtee's shooting arm exploded in blood at the moment the knife rest connected with his forehead. He screamed and collapsed in a heap in her kitchen. The Queen Atlantic broke his fall, but it was still hot from all that pie crust baked in misery. He shrieked again as his one good hand smacked against the hot stove. Julia dropped to her knees. “Oh, Father,” was all she said as Mr. Kaiser picked her up. She wrapped her arms around him, safe.

Kaiser held her close. “Are you all right?” He kept her firmly in his embrace until her breathing slowed. “Can you stand?”

She nodded and then struggled to get out of his grasp. “Charlotte! Kringle! Mr. Kaiser, there's another man out there!”

“Steady. Colby had a tall woman—Charlotte?—cornered in the barn. She had her knife out, so he wasn't paying any attention to me,” Kaiser said, sitting her down. “I coldcocked him. So satisfying. Took a minute to explain to Charlotte that it'd be better not to kill him. She wasn't convinced, but he might be still alive.” He rested his hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Kringle's all right too. He fired that shot at
me
!”

She nodded. “My dog?”

“Winged a bit. Mrs. Otto, you can't kill something that ugly. Charlotte is tending him.”

Julia stared at her savior in amazement. “I don't know why you're here, but I've never been happier to see a friendly face in my entire life.”

“I'm not sure why I'm here, either,” he said, squatting by McAtee. “He's really bleeding. Should we staunch it, or ignore it?”

“Better try. Here. I have dishcloths.” She opened a drawer, taking one deep breath and another until her hand stopped shaking.

He accepted the dishcloths. “Seems a shame to ruin these on such a skunk. Still… Help me tug him away from that monster cookstove. He's getting crispy. Smells worse than a branding.”

He worked quickly, and none too gently, pressing on McAtee's arm until he moaned. He made a tight bandage of the days-of-the-week dishcloths she had embroidered under protest in Primary and stuck in her hope chest. It took Monday through Thursday to stop the bleeding.

Holding Friday, Julia pressed the cloth against the open wound in McAtee's forehead as he cried out.

“You have quite a throwing arm, Mrs. Otto,” Kaiser commented, squatting on his haunches as he watched her.

“I have two older brothers who forced me to play baseball, if I wanted to be part of their world. Hold still, Mr. McAtee.” She observed her efforts. “Maybe you could tie him to the Queen Atlantic… my stove.”

Kaiser went outside to find a rope as Charlotte ran in. The women hugged each other, crying. “Charlotte, what happened?” Julia asked.

“I was milking the cow, and Colby put a gun at my waist.” Her face darkened. “I'm glad I gave the rest of that pie crust to Kringle! Mrs. Otto, Colby's the one who's been telling—”

“I know. And to think Paul and I trusted him.”

Arm in arm, after another long look at Mr. McAtee, still unconsciousness, Charlotte and Julia went to the barn, where Two Bits sat on a rafter, hissing at Mr. Kaiser.

“I tried to tend to your ugly dog, but your ugly cat had other ideas.” Kaiser grinned at Julia. “Don't you have anything pretty on this place besides yourself, Mrs. Otto?”

“Mr. Kaiser, I like my ugly pets! Charlotte, do you think Two Bits is
defending
Magnus?”

“I wouldn't be surprised.” Charlotte dipped some milk in a dish to tempt Two Bits from the rafter. The cat jumped down, hissed at Kaiser again for good measure, and walked away, ignoring him. He curled up next to Magnus, who was too groggy to object. Charlotte shook her head in amazement. “I'm going to check on Kringle,” she said.

As Julia and Kaiser watched, Colby opened his eyes and looked around. He tried to move, and Kaiser stepped on his wrist. He gave him a push until Colby was facedown in the straw. Yanking Colby's arms behind his back, Kaiser trussed his hands to his feet as neatly as he would incapacitate a calf objecting to a branding iron.

He rolled Colby onto his side. “You're an ugly customer,” Kaiser commented, all the while keeping his tone conversational. He put his hand on Colby's bloody hair. “I cracked you good. Still seeing double?”

Colby glared at him, then threw up in the straw. Kaiser watched him in disgust, then yanked him away from the mess. “What do you want me to do with this one?” he asked Julia, who was perched on an overturned bucket.

“Let him go,” she said.

Kaiser stared at her. “After what he did? Pardon me, but I won't.”

“Yes, you will,” she said calmly. “Do you realize what will happen to him when Paul gets here? Mr. Kaiser, he will kill this wretched specimen, and I won't have murder on my husband's hands.”

“
I'll
kill him, if that's all that's bothering you,” Kaiser said mildly. “No jury's going to care, trust me.”

Julia looked at Colby, fully conscious now, his bloodshot eyes filled with terror. “Maybe you have some inkling how I felt in there, Colby, while your… your half-brother threatened me and my baby! How dare you leave me defenseless when we trusted you!” She nodded to Kaiser. “Untie him and prop him against that post.”

Kaiser did as she asked. “I can keep my gun on him, can't I?” he asked, his voice almost wistful to Julia's amusement. “I mean if he so much as twitches…”

“Be my guest,” she said, equally affable.

When Colby was propped up none too gently, Julia took a deep breath. “I'm doing this for your own good,” she told him. “I can excuse Mr. McAtee. I think he's deranged, and I know he was drunk. But you?
You?
Your ailment is worse—a serious lack of character.”

Colby wasn't glaring now. He looked at her and sighed, chewing on the inside of his lip.