Fired Up (12 page)

“Call upstairs and tell Mrs. Foster we're moving her boy.” Dare ordered Vince to do it, just to get in his share of being bossy. “I'll get Elias wrapped up so no wind blows on him, especially his face. I don't want to set off any more coughing fits if I can help it.”

It was almost noon when they finally had the house set up and Elias resting comfortably again.

“You got all this medicine at the general store?” Dare looked at the lineup of bottles. There was a lot missing, but a surprising number of the things he needed were now at hand.

“I did,” Vince replied. “The freight wagon that brought Jonas's letter had a big order for you.”

It occurred to Dare that Vince didn't seem to have much lawyering work, yet he always seemed to have plenty of money. How did he manage that?

“I also sent a man on a fast horse to Dalls Pass with a list.”

Dare knew the slightly bigger town would have more of what he needed, and Vince had been familiar with the medicine and supplies Dare used.

“Whatever they don't have is being ordered over the telegraph, so it can come in a matter of days.”

“Did you include carbolic acid?” Dare thought that one medicine had saved more lives than all his other medicines combined.

“Yep. And I remembered a few of the books you had and told them to check for those, too.”

Dare clenched his jaw. He couldn't afford to replace all his books, and he knew from the look in Vince's eyes that his friend was paying for everything, which Dare couldn't allow. “I'm paying you back.”

Vince shook his head. “How about instead you let me pay you for your doctoring help when I got shot in the head a while back?” There it was, the reminder that Dare had saved Vince's life.

“Or let me pay you for that time you saved my life back in Andersonville,” Dare said. Vince had been there to drag a man off Dare, who'd just shoved a knife into his ribs. Dare didn't figure Vince owed him a thing, but he decided to shut up about paying for the books, since he couldn't afford to do it anyway.

The boy lying on the bed, covered and tented, began one of his coughing fits, and Dare had to leave his wrangling with Vince for later. Mrs. Foster came in carrying another
basin of steaming water, heavy with herbs Dare needed to help open the boy's air passages.

Returning his attention to the fragile little boy, Dare didn't think much more about Vince Yates and all he'd sacrificed to help get his friend's doctoring business back on its feet.

“I need a lunch tray to take to Dr. Riker.” Glynna finally had time now that the noon rush was over.

Lana, leaning over a cutting board, straightened to meet Glynna's eyes. “Dr. Riker?”

Something flashed in Lana's eyes that Glynna couldn't define. With a peeled potato in one hand and a butcher knife in the other, Lana clutched the knife so hard her knuckles turned white and the tip of the blade trembled.

For one pure, clean second, Glynna felt a wave of fear unlike any she'd ever known. And that was saying something, considering her year of marriage to Flint.

“Will the noon special suit the doctor?” Lana's words held nothing to upset anyone, and yet Glynna couldn't deny that she was upset.

Lana set the potato down on the wooden surface and sliced through it with the knife. The knife severed the crisp spud with a single downward stroke. Lana kept the knives razor sharp with a strop that was hanging on the wall. Glynna hadn't noticed the strop and wouldn't have known how to use it if she had, but Lana was teaching her.

The knife hit the wood with more force than seemed necessary. Lana's hands moved so fast, they were nearly a blur. The knife flashed, glinting in the light, reducing the potato to shreds with an expertise Glynna wouldn't have believed if she hadn't seen it herself.

Glynna had noticed from the first that the woman was a natural with food. And chopping up a potato to fry in a skillet was among her finest talents.

“Y-yes, the noon special will be fine,” Glynna answered.

Suddenly Lana's hands stopped, frozen as surely as if they were made of ice. Lana looked into the distance, past Glynna's shoulder. Glynna glanced around, expecting to see that someone had come into the kitchen behind her. A chill rushed down her spine as if that someone were dangerous.

No one was there.

Lana's eyes remained focused. She seemed to be listening for something . . . or to someone. Then an instant later she was back at work, throwing a small mountain of potatoes in a hot cast-iron skillet. The sizzle and the rush of steam made Glynna's mouth water, distracting her from Lana's odd behavior. Glynna had been run off her feet and hadn't eaten since before sunrise.

“Do I need to send enough to feed Mrs. Foster, too?” Lana asked.

Disturbed by the strange shift of Lana's attention, Glynna swallowed, wetting her dry throat. “Why, yes. I hadn't thought of that. It's a wonderful idea. Of course we need to make Mrs. Foster a plate. Thank you for suggesting it, Lana.”

“I reckon your main interest is in the doctor, ain't it?” Lana's eyes rounded on her then, causing Glynna to almost step back. Again, for no reason. The woman hadn't raised her voice. She hadn't so much as frowned.

“I'm interested in helping, that's all,” Glynna said matter-of-factly.

Lana focused on the knife in her hand. She lifted the strop and whipped the knife back and forth with a smooth swish. Glynna couldn't work the strop and knife half as fast and she tried to study the motion. But Lana's hands moved too fast for Glynna to be sure of anything except the gleaming edge of the knife as it was being honed to razor sharpness.

Lana snorted in a way that wasn't suitable for a lady or an employee. Lana had come from a hard life, working as a saloon girl with all the terrible aspects of that career.

Glynna did feel she needed to speak to Lana about her inappropriate comment, as if Glynna harbored some sort of interest in the doctor. Such a thing couldn't be repeated in the presence of her children.

“There's nothing between Dare Riker and me, Lana.” Glynna then thought of the moment they'd shared in the Indian camp and suspected that might qualify as
something
.

The knife must've been sharpened to suit Lana because she quit the rapid-fire movements and finally laid the knife aside. Lana felt a surge of relief to see that knife out of Lana's hand, and she realized how ridiculous that was. Lana had a troubled background, but she worked hard and was a talented cook. Glynna had no reason to think ill of the woman, and it spoke poorly of Glynna's Christian faith
that she judged Lana based on her past. Truly, Glynna was benefiting greatly from Lana's gifts.

“My plan is to never inflict another man on my children. I've proven to be a poor hand at picking husbands.”

“Greer was a decent sort, by my book.”

“He used his fists on me. There was nothing decent about him.”

“A man loses his temper from time to time. No sense squawking about it. If'n you don't like it, you pick your moment and teach him a lesson right back.”

Glynna shuddered. What would Flint have done to her if she'd ever dared to hit him? It didn't bear thinking about, but it told Glynna a lot about what poor Lana had suffered at the hands of men.

The door to the diner opened and voices sounded. “I'd better go see who it is,” Glynna said. “I can run that food over when it's ready. I'll tell Paul to serve the newcomers. He went up to his room for a break a few minutes ago.”

Glynna knew Paul wouldn't like her going over to Dare's new office, and that sparked a bit of rebellion, the idea of being dictated to by her own child. “No, I don't need to bother him. I'll go see how many meals they need and then you can serve them. The dining room's empty now. I'll lock it up so you can finish with the meals and be done for the day.”

Lana nodded as Glynna hurried into the dining room. Maybe she'd be back before Paul noticed she'd been in the presence of a dreaded man.

“How's he doing?” Glynna brought in a tray heavy with food.

Mrs. Foster gave her a weary smile. “God bless you for bringing in our meals.”

“Your husband and sons are eating right now. They came in the diner just as I was leaving, and Luke and Ruthy Stone are with them. They want to meet you if you can get away. I told them I'd ask.”

Melanie Foster didn't suggest her unruly sons come to Dare's house. “Gil has spoken so often of Luke; they were great friends as children. I want to meet them, but I need to stay with Elias.”

“Go on over and join them.” Glynna tilted her head toward the door. “I ordered a meal for you over there. It's time you take a break.”

“I can't.” Exhaustion and worry had drawn lines in the woman's face. Her husband and sons had been in and out many times in the last week, though the active little boys meant that the visits be cut short. Gil would bring them in, check on his oldest son, talk with his wife about how they were settling into the house, then herd his boys back out before they broke anything.

“He's much improved, ma'am.” Dare straightened from where he was lifting the tent away from the boy. “I don't think we need this anymore.” Elias blinked his sleepy eyes at Dare. “You've been raring to get out of bed this morning, haven't you, son?”

Glynna hadn't seen the boy awake before.

Elias smiled and nodded his head firmly. “I don't like lying around.”

“That's a good sign.” Dare swiped one large, gentle hand over the boy's tightly kinked black curls. “But before you get up, I think a bit more sleep might add to your strength.”

Glynna smiled at Mrs. Foster. “Your son's going to be fine. I'll fetch and carry for the doctor while you get off your feet for a few minutes. Go see the rest of your family now. Luke and Ruthy Stone are eager to meet you.”

Mrs. Foster turned and the worry lines eased as she looked down at Elias. “Yes, I do believe he is better. But I should stay.”

The boy's eyelids were heavy as he shook his head. “Go on and see Pa. I'm going to sleep a little while, then I wanna go out 'n play. I can, can't I, Ma?”

“Just as soon as you feel up to it.”

Elias's eyes closed, and he relaxed into sleep. Mrs. Foster looked at Dare.

He nodded and said quietly, “You heard him, go on. You're only a few steps away. I'll call if I need you.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She drew in a deep breath and smiled as she hurried out.

“Come and eat, Dare. Get off
your
feet for a while.” Glynna carried the tray to a table near the front window. There was a kitchen with a proper table in the back of the house, but Glynna suspected Dare wouldn't leave his patient, even with the youngster sleeping.

Dare sank into a chair. Glynna quickly lifted a red gingham napkin off a plateful of chicken and noodle gravy that had been poured generously over two biscuits and a mile-high stack of hash browns. Dare grabbed a fork off the tray with such enthusiasm, Glynna couldn't help but smile.

“Sit down,” Dare said, “and join me.”

Glynna had brought food for two, hoping Melanie would go see her husband, but was prepared to feed her if she didn't. They ate companionably for a while. Finally, Dare seemed to quiet the worst of his hunger and he relaxed and lifted his coffee cup.

Glynna began gathering the plates.

“No, wait, don't rush off. Talk to me for a few minutes, if you have time. I haven't been outside this house for days, and I'd love to hear a different voice.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Glynna settled in across from him.

“Vince said another covered wagon came into town with a family who'd been driven off by Greer.”

Glynna controlled a flinch at her late husband's name. “It was two brothers. No women and children. And we got letters from two more who are heading back.” Glynna told Dare any other news she could think of while he sipped his coffee.

“When did you learn to . . . uh . . . ?” Dare looked up from his plate and his cheeks went a bit pink.

“When did I stop burning things to a cinder and start cooking good food?” Glynna asked with mock severity. “Is that what you were going to ask, Dare Riker?”

“No, the food's always been . . . uh . . . good. Now it's just . . . well, different.” Dare started talking faster with every word. “A different kind of good.”

Glynna had a mental picture of him trying to dig himself out of a hole.

“Lots of different ways to make a roast or make chicken
stew. Not saying one's right and one's wrong. You're a fine—”

“I hired a cook.” She interrupted before he had to tell any more kindhearted lies.

Dare was silent, probably because he didn't want to say what a smart idea that was. “Who'd you hire?”

“Lana Bullard.”

“Lana Bullard?” His fork clattered against his empty plate and bounced onto the floor. “You hired Lana Bullard?”

As if on cue, across a stretch of bare dirt, the back door of the diner swung open and Lana Bullard stepped outside and threw a pan of dishwater onto the ground.

“Yep, that's her,” Dare said, eyeing the woman through the window. “She's lost a lot of weight. I don't know if I'd've recognized her if you hadn't just said her name.”

Glynna watched Lana straighten, rub the back of her neck, then go back inside. “She works really hard and she's a right good cook.”

“But she's . . . crazy.”

Glynna frowned. “No, she's not.” Glynna's mind flashed to that moment when Lana had frightened her, but she shook off that foolishness. “She keeps the kitchen neat as a pin, and she's teaching me and both my children how to cook properly, although it seems like she takes everything off the fire too soon. I worry about things being too raw.” With a shrug, Glynna added, “Paul has picked up so many tricks from her that he's already a better cook than I am.”

Looking from the diner to Glynna and back, Dare leaned close.

Glynna was surprised how much that didn't bother her.

Whispering, Dare said, “She's a lunatic. She thought she was going to have a baby, and she came in to see me, in a mouth-foaming panic, twice a week from the day I arrived to this town. She treated me like every word I spoke came straight from the mouth of God.”

“Well, people often love their doctors.”

“That hasn't been my experience.”