Dorothy Garlock (25 page)

“I love ya, Mary girl,” he croaked.

“I love you, too. I’ve loved you all my life.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Tears for me?”

“No. I’m just so mad at you for getting yourself shot!”

“I don’t hurt anywhere.”

“Course not. Folks say I’m better than any doctor around. I learned about it from an Indian woman.” Relief was making her giddy.

With supreme effort, he forced himself to stay awake. “Clayhill burned . . . out the Spurlocks. I was too late—”

“You almost got yourself killed!”

“I never figured to git it from a backshooter.”

“Sleep now. When you wake up I’ll feed you some beef tea and you can tell me what you want done. Ben is here and I’ve given Frank Gerhart a job. But we can talk about it when you wake up.”

“I dreamt ya was kissin’ me.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” She placed her lips on his dry ones and kissed him gently. “Get well so you can hold me,” she whispered with a ragged breath.

“I won’t never leave ya, Mary.”

“If you even try, I’ll . . . break your leg!” She clasped his hand in both of hers.

That brought a slow smile to his lips. “Or come at me with a old buffalo gun?” he said on the drowsy edge of sleep.

Mary nodded, blinking back the tears. He lay with his eyes closed, breathing shallowly, and his hand went limp in hers.

“Try to sleep a little,” she said close to his ear. “I’ll be here.”

*  *  *

From Ben and Frank Gerhart, Mary pieced together the story of what had happened at the Spurlock ranch. She asked Frank to stay on and Josh fixed sleeping quarters for him and Ben in a corner of the barn.

Later that evening, when she, Meta, and Josh retired to the back of the house to leave the front part for the girls and their “company,” she broached the subject of closing the house.

“I’d give the girls some money and put them on the stage to Denver if I didn’t think we’d be better off letting things stand as they are. Most all of Clayhill’s cowhands have been here at one time or the other. I think they’d balk if he ordered them to burn us out.”

Meta and Josh nodded in agreement. “There ain’t another place like this’n in fifty mile,” Josh said. “Them drovers’ve got used to bein’ pleasured. They ain’t gonna want to give it up.”

“The men that come here are treated fairly and I’ve doctored more than a few of them,” Mary said. “There won’t be much said about Case killing Shatto. It’s Shorty Banes he’ll have to look out for. Frank said Case made him crawl out of rifle range to where one of the men waited with his horse.”

“That ain’t agoin’ to set good, but Case can handle Shorty.”

“I’d say that being humiliated in front of the other men hurt more than getting shot in the foot.”

Josh shook his shaggy head. “Clayhill ain’t agoin’ to back down. He’ll set a feller on Horn like he done Case. If’n Horn stays, more’ll come.”

“How about the Kentucky farmers beyond the east ridge?” Mary asked. “Do you think they’d help Logan?”

“Why should they? As long as Clayhill leaves ’em be, they’d have no call to deal themselves in.”

“Case won’t give up now that Clayhill sent a backshooter after him and burnt out the Spurlocks,” Mary said firmly. “I know him well enough for that. He might have let Logan fight his own battles, but not now.”

“That Indian bit off a chunk to chew,” Josh said.

“Why do you call him ‘that Indian’?” Mary asked suddenly.

Josh looked at her in bewilderment. “’Cause that’s what he is. Ain’t no mistake about him being a breed.”

“I don’t call you ‘that Irishman,’ and there’s no mistake about you being Irish.”

“But that ain’t the same thing.” His ruddy face reddened even more. “I like him, but—”

“But he’s an Indian,” Mary said wearily. “Your remark reflects the attitude almost everyone has. It’s strange. Logan Horn is an intelligent, educated man who could help develop the territory, yet people will shun and despise him because of his Indian blood. Texans felt the same way, to some degree, about the Mexicans after the Alamo.”

“It ain’t agoin’ to be easy fer him,” Josh admitted.

“No. It’s not going to be easy for any of us until Clayhill is forced to pull in his horns and realize he doesn’t own this part of the world and everything in it because he was the first white man to settle here,” Mary said bitterly.

Meta gave her a questioning glance. Mary seldom allowed her hatred for Adam Clayhill to show. Meta and Josh were the only ones who knew the depth of that hatred. After being responsible for her husband’s drinking himself to death and leaving Mary destitute, Adam had wanted her for his mistress. When she refused he had blackened her name until the only recourse left to her was to open this house.

“I’m going to send Frank to the Parnells’ to ask Cooper to come over,” Mary said after a long, thoughtful silence. “I hear he stood up for Logan in town when Shorty and his bunch jumped him. I’ve got a big favor to ask him, and after the week I spent at the ranch taking care of his mother, I don’t think he’ll turn me down.”

“Mary! I ain’t never knowed of you to call back a favor.” Meta’s eyes mirrored a slight rebuke.

A hard, determined mask slid over Mary’s face. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. I can fight dirty just like anyone else when I’m cornered. Adam Clayhill will get what he deserves as sure as my name is Mary!”

*  *  *

Case woke up at noon the next day. The first thing he saw was Mary sitting in a chair beside the bed, her head tilted back, her eyes closed.

“Ya look tired.”

Startled by the suddenness of his voice, Mary leaned close to peer into his face.

“How do you feel?”

“Weak as a newborn kitten.”

“You can eat as soon as I’ve shaved some of those whiskers off your face.”

He lifted his hand to his cheeks. “Good Lord! How long have I been here?”

“Almost a week. In all that time you haven’t had anything but beef tea and sugared whiskey.”

They looked at each other for a full minute. Whiskers roughened his jaws, his lips were cracked and peeling, and there were deep caverns beneath his cheekbones; but his eyes were clear, and they roamed Mary’s pale face and fastened on her trembling lips. Concern showed in his steel blue eyes.

“Ya’ve wore yoreself out.” His fingers touched her cheek.

“No such thing!” She closed her eyes and bent to kiss his lips. “I’ve never taken care of you before. But don’t go and get yourself shot so I’ll have to do it again. Next time I’ll turn you over to Josh,” she threatened.

While she was feeding him a thick chicken and dumpling stew, she told him she had sent Frank to the Parnell ranch to fetch Cooper.

“We’ve got to trust someone to get Logan’s money receipt and deed to Denver to have it registered. No doubt Clayhill has told the Land Office man here to hold the money and not record the sale. It’s only a matter of time before he starts hunting for the deed.”

“What do ya know ’bout Parnell?”

“Enough to know he resents the tight hold Clayhill has on the territory and everyone in it. Cooper tends to mind his own business, but he stands up for what’s right. Sylvia, his mother, despises Clayhill. She never says why, but it’s there in her face when his name is mentioned.”

“I told Rosalee I’d be back in a day or two ’n bring her here. If Clayhill’s men find her and Horn and kill ’im, you know what’ll happen to her! After bein’ out there alone with Horn all this time they’ll assume the worst ’n not have a shred a respect fer her.”

“Oh, fiddle! You forget Logan’s an Indian. He’ll not be easily cornered,” Mary snorted. “He’ll take care of Rosalee. I’d bet my life on it. I saw the way those two looked at each other. They’re in love. Any man who would go through the agony Logan went through to get to her has got to be in love.” She wiped his chin with a napkin. “Had enough?”

He grinned. “Will ya stay if’n I keep eatin’?”

“Till it comes out your ears.” She jabbed a heaping spoonful into his mouth.

“I wish I could sit up ’n drink that coffee,” he said after he swallowed.

“Well, you can’t, and that’s final.”

“That’s not all I’m awishin’.”

“Case! A couple of days ago you were almost dead and here you are trying to get me in bed with you.”

“I’ve waited a long time.” He looked at her with a consuming tenderness in his eyes.

“So have I, darlin’, so have I.”

She leaned down to kiss his cheek, but his head rolled so that his lips found her mouth. What started out to be a gentle kiss became something entirely different. His hand found the back of her head and pressed her lips to his with surprising strength.

There was no haste in the kiss. Slow, sensuous, languid, he took his time quite deliberately, and every move of his lips increased the deeply buried heat in her body. Their breaths mingled when he released the pressure and she raised her head. She was filled with a driving physical need which drummed through her veins like thunder. She felt as well as heard the hoarse sound he made in his throat.

“I’m agoin’ to marry ya,” he said thickly. “I’ve been awaitin’ . . . forever.”

“Case,” she groaned against his neck. “Oh . . . Case—”

“I’ll take ya back to Texas, if’n ya want to go, Mary. But I’d rather stay here ’n build our own place. This is raw, new land, like East Texas was when my grandpa went there. He built his own place ’n I want to build ours.”

“We don’t have to make a decision about that now,” Mary said gently. “Sleep for awhile. Frank should be back with Cooper sometime this evening.”

“Ya could lay here beside me.” His eyes teased her.

“Oh, no! You’re going to have to be satisfied with this.” She placed soft kisses on his face and stroked the hair at his temples. “Case, darlin’, I’ve been a fool to let what others think keep me from you. I know what I am, and I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. If you’re willing to accept me on those terms, I’ll be the best wife I know how to be.”

“We’ve . . . wasted so much time.” Weak, unashamed tears rolled from the corners of his eyes.

Their kiss was long and sweet and full of commitment. When it was over, Mary picked up the tray and Case’s eyes followed her to the door. She turned, her eyes bright with her own unshed tears, and her heart lifted from the lonely place where it had held itself during the past ten years.

He wanted to tell her that he had loved her for as long as he could remember, and that every conscious moment while he lay soaked in his own blood waiting for Frank and Ben to come for him, he had thought of her. He wanted to say that she was the warmest, gentlest, loveliest woman he’d ever known. He wanted to explain to her that he didn’t know soft words, that he’d never said them to a woman, but he had a heart full of love for her and that he’d die to keep her safe.

It was pure heaven to know he was loved by the woman he’d loved all these years. Case wanted to stay awake and enjoy his new happiness, but his eyelids drooped wearily and he slept.

*  *  *

The kitchen and Mary’s living quarters were separate from the rest of the house. When the three girls who were currently in residence came to supper they were dressed as modestly as if they were dining in a preacher’s home. After the evening meal they would retire to their rooms and put on their gaudy evening attire. The “guests” were entertained in the parlor before being taken to the rooms upstairs. A minimum of three drinks was served to each man, and Josh was always there to take care of a rowdy if Mary’s quelling words from the doorway failed to take effect.

Frank and Cooper Parnell arrived just as Meta was putting supper on the large kitchen table and she added two extra plates. Mary saw three pairs of eyes hone in on Cooper and wanted to slap three faces.

“He’s mine,” Minnie whispered.

“We’ll see about that.” Hannah tossed her auburn curls and opened her blue eyes wide to ogle him.

“Shut up and behave,” Mary snapped as she passed behind them. “Hello, Cooper. You and Frank wash up and come to supper.”

Cooper was a tall, sandy-haired man in his mid-twenties, with powerful shoulders and an amazing quietness about him. The muscles of his shoulders, arms, and thighs bulged his buckskins, although he gave an overall appearance of being whiplash thin. His hips were lean and he wore a gun strapped below his waist, as did most men. But Cooper wore a bowie knife, too. Both knife scabbard and gun holster were tied down.

Mary had come to know the Parnells quite well. Two years ago his mother had come down with a severe case of influenza, and Cooper had come to Mary in the middle of the night to ask her for help. She had gone home with him during a raging snowstorm and stayed at the Parnell ranch for a week working around the clock with Cooper, applying hot onion poultices to Sylvia’s chest and giving her a few drops of ipecac syrup every few hours. Sylvia survived, and she and Rosalee had become her only women friends.

Mary looked at Cooper, remembering his tender devotion to his widowed mother while she was ill. She had thought about playing Cupid between him and Rosalee, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Now it was too late. Rosalee was in love with Logan.

Ben sat at the table beside Frank and ate with gusto. His eyes went often to the three girls who sat opposite him and he hung on every word they said. Mary began to wonder if she had been wise to bring a fourteen-year-old boy in contact with the girls whose profession, no doubt, fascinated him.

The meal itself was enjoyable. Dishes were passed with utmost politeness after Mary said grace. Ben’s table manners were good, and Cooper’s faultless. Frank, not used to eating on a cloth, spilled food beside his plate and poured his coffee in his saucer to blow on it. His face reddened and his feet moved in an embarrassed shuffle when he burned his fingers and spilled the coffee in his plate.

Hannah managed to edge close to Cooper as she and the other two girls carried the dishes from the table while Meta served a bread pudding with thick cream. She ran her fingertips across the knuckles of his hand and gave him a conspiratorial wink. The message was clear. She would take him by the hand and lead him upstairs, given any encouragement at all. Cooper merely grinned at her.