Linda Castle (22 page)

“Oh, my.” Marydyth turned to Rachel. “Honey, see if you can find me some sticks.”

Marydyth flipped up her skirt and tugged off her white petticoat. The lace and embroidery had been damaged in the fall.

“What are you doing?” Flynn asked.

She started tearing the six-inch-wide ruffle from the bottom. “I am going to set that arm.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Flynn said dryly.

A half hour later Marydyth gulped down her dread and looked at the assembled supplies. She had torn a half dozen bandages from her petticoat and Rachel had found some dried and hollow organ-pipe cactus that was straight enough to use for splints. Flynn had explained to Rachel that a part of the wagon had broken.

“Are you ready?” Marydyth asked Flynn, trying to ignore the way her stomach fluttered each time she looked at him.

“The question is, are you ready to do this?”

“I can do this, I can,” she said under her breath as if to reassure herself and not him.

“Take hold of my hand and pull until the bone goes back into place.” He extended his left arm toward her, ignoring the ugly gash and the nauseating pain it brought.

“Tell me if it hurts too much.”

“Just pull, Marydyth, and don’t worry about me.” His deep, gravelly voice rubbed over her skin and made her throat tight and thick.

“Ready?”

“Do it.”

She did as she was told, grabbing hold of his wide wrist with both of her hands. She bit her lip and made sure not to jerk but to apply firm, even pressure.

The bone moved. Flynn made a husky sound in the back of his throat at the moment the bone ground into place.

She tried not to feel his agony, but strangely she did. It didn’t help matters that she was the one who was causing his pain.

She never wanted to cause him pain.

“Keep pulling. You have to keep the pressure steady while you wrap it.” The tone of his voice was different, lower and taut. She knew he was fighting to control his reaction to the pain-for her and for Rachel.

She loved him for it.

“There.” Quickly she grabbed the splints from Rachel’s ready hands and put them on top and bottom of Flynn’s arm. Then she began to wrap the bandages.

“Not too tight,” he instructed.

“I know.” Her breath was coming quick and shallow. It had been one of the worst things she had ever had to do, but it was nearly over.

When she tied the last cotton strip into place, she sighed. “There.”

Flynn swallowed hard and gingerly moved his left arm. The splint was irregular and way too long but it was keeping the bone from moving.

“You did a fine job, ladies,” he said with a weak smile. “I am a lucky man to have you two.”

Marydyth shoved her hair out of her eyes and locked gazes with him. And in that electric moment she prayed hard for Ted Kelts to find a clue about J.C.’s murderer because she yearned to have a future with this man.

Next they retrieved the canteens and a few items from the splintered picnic basket. When Flynn picked it up he looked at the bottom, or what was left of it. There was a small piece of paper with familiar careful block printing.

You’ve been warned. Stop trying to open the mine—or die.

The question ripped through Flynn’s mind. At which stop in Hollenbeck Corners had someone slipped the note in the basket?

Walking would have been an easy journey on the road, but within an hour Flynn suggested that they stop and set up a camp. The sun was fully down now and it was starting to get cool as the dry desert soil gave up the warmth of the sun. And he didn’t want to be out in the open like a sitting duck in case whoever had written the note decided to come and make a fight of it.

“I’ve got some matches in my pocket. I’ll build us a fire,” he told Rachel as he settled their backs against a sheltering outcrop of rough stone. “Would you like that, honey?”

“Yes, Unca Flynn, ’cause I am real tired,” she said between yawns.

“Fine. Marydyth, why don’t you wrap her up in that checked blanket we brought?”

She nodded, and folded it—and her arms—around Rachel. It felt so good to hold her daughter—even though they were miles from home, tired and shaken up by the crash. It felt good to be alone with Flynn and Rachel.

“A penny for your thoughts.” His rough voice jarred her from her musings.

“I was just thinking what a nice day this has been.”

He laughed. Hearty deep rumbles of amusement. “Yeah, I’d do this again for certain.” He shook his head and awkwardly maneuvered his broken arm while he got a roaring fire going. “Only next time I’d tuck my arm.”

“I—I don’t mean that. It’s just that I feel—so…content.”

He looked at her, the fire highlighting the rugged planes of his cheekbones and the deep hollows of his probing eyes. “I know, Marydyth.”

Something hot and liquid seemed to pass between them.

“Unca Flynn, I’m cold,” Rachel said in a sleepy voice.

“Then you two come over here and let me hold you.” Flynn positioned his body on the ground, straddle-legged, and opened his arms. Marydyth sat down with Rachel in her lap and leaned back against his wide strong chest. He engulfed them both in his embrace.

Marydyth knew in her heart it couldn’t get any better than this.

T
he group of men who had organized the search found them an hour after sunrise. Just as Flynn had predicted, the moment the livery horse showed up in Hollenbeck

Corners without its buggy and passengers an alarm had been raised. The pumper company had called out all the fire-fighting crew and had followed the very plain tracks right to Flynn, Rachel and Marydyth.

“Hey, where is breakfast?” Flynn quipped when the men thundered up.

“Got some biscuits and bacon, right here,” exclaimed Fritz Handleman, a portly German who ran one of the butcher shops. He lumbered off his enormous horse and passed his kit to Marydyth. She burrowed into it and found still warm biscuits and crispy bacon, which she combined and handed to Rachel first, then Flynn.

“What happened to you?” Fritz asked.

“Tongue on the wagon broke,” Flynn said with a shrug. “My fault, I should’ve checked it better. I feel like a damned fool but I guess this will teach me.” He raised his broken arm a bit to show them what he meant.

“That ain’t exactly true, Flynn,” the livery owner said as he dismounted. His brow was furrowed when he came
nearer. He cast a warning eye toward Marydyth and Rachel, who were close by.

Flynn understood and stepped a few feet away so they would not overhear. “What do you mean?”

“That tongue had been tampered with. I checked what was left dragging behind the horse. It was battered some but still easy to see that it had been sawed near in half.”

An icy finger skipped up Flynn’s spine. He had wanted to believe that the accident was just that. First the shot, then the landslide and now this. And this time Marydyth and Rachel were at risk—not just him.

Anger flowed through him like a hot, turbulent river. Whoever was doing this had taken the wrong step this time. Because now Flynn was more than angry. Now the threat was too personal and too damned close to his heart.

Whoever was behind this had risked hurting the two people he loved most in the world.

As soon as Flynn had Marydyth and Rachel settled at the house he went to the doctor to get a proper splint. Then he headed straight to Moses Pritikin’s office with the threatening notes in his pocket.

He felt like a lawman again, only this time he didn’t have his oath to bind him to do what was right and proper and
legal.
When he found the snake responsible for this, he could exact his own justice.

The bell over Moze’s door rang as Flynn entered. He strode right on into Moze’s private office.

“Wheee, I’d hate to be the galoot that put that expression on your face.” Moses leaned back in his chair and regarded Flynn with raised brows, his gaze pausing briefly on the sling around his arm. “What the devil happened to your arm? You’re getting to be downright accident-prone.”

Flynn ignored the question and tossed the notes on the desk. Moses leaned forward and unfolded one, read it quickly, then picked up another.

“Whatever happened to the men who organized the mining strike back in ’86?” Flynn asked as he lowered his body into the single chair facing the desk.

Moses frowned and rubbed his bony chin. “Leffert got shot, I heard. Tommy Dade went up around Cripple Creek—if the rumors are to be believed.” He tapped the threatening notes. “You think they have something to do with this?”

“Dunno. But it looks like somebody is hell-bent on making sure the Lavender Lady doesn’t reopen.” Flynn swept off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “I damned well intend to find out who.”

Moses leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Are the notes your only lead?”

“Right at the moment. I was hoping you could tell me if there has been anything unusual going on regarding copper mines and the like.”

Moses shrugged. “Not really. Papers have been full of all the hullabaloo about the proposed silver purchase act, but that would have no bearing on a copper mine.” He unlaced his fingers and tipped his chair back down with a thud. “I know you well enough to know that you have a plan. What’re you going to do, Flynn?”

“I am going to set an irresistible trap,” Flynn said.

“What is going to be so damned irresistible about it?”

“Because I am going to use myself as the bait.” He grinned wolfishly.

Marydyth sighed and scooted farther down in the hot tub of water. She soaped her skin and slowly scrubbed, feeling the strain dwindle away, along with the dust and
grime. Rachel had been bathed and fed and was sleeping like a little angel in her room down the hall.

The sound of a closing door drew Marydyth up in the tub. Flynn must be returning, she thought. The notion filled her with a strange kind of contentment. She eased herself back down into the water, sloshing some over the edge as she did so.

“Flynn—I’m up here, in the tub,” she called out, sure that he would come and find her.

But when five minutes had passed and he still had not come she became uneasy. The house seemed quiet. Certainly too quiet for a brawny cowboy to be clomping around in.

A shiver of wariness slithered up her back. She sat upright, listening hard to the sounds of the house.

A sizzling instinct of alarm burst through her. Marydyth stood up in the tub, sloshing water on the floor as she grabbed for her robe. She yanked it on over skin that was still sheeted in water. She ran down the hall to Rachel’s room.

Rachel was sleeping.

Marydyth sagged against the doorjamb in relief. Her heart was beating fast and her mouth was dry as tinder. She closed her eyes and told herself that she was acting silly; nothing had been wrong.

Rachel had her hand drawn into a fist resting against her chin. She was safe and well.

Determined to put her fear to rest, Marydyth crept down the stairs on tiptoe, careful to make no sound. First she checked the kitchen and found it empty.

The library was also unoccupied, as well as the front parlor. She heard the rustling sound of drapery blowing in the wind coming from the formal parlor. When she entered the room she discovered one of the tall windows
open. A hot, dry breeze fluttered the curtains and a leaf of paper.

It was stuck in the center of the wooden mantel. Marydyth stopped in her tracks. The paper was secured to the mantel by the tip of a hunting knife.

When. Flynn walked in a few minutes later, Marydyth was still frozen with fear, staring at the paper on the mantel.

“What the hell is going on?” Flynn took one look at her and strode past her. He jerked the knife from the wall. Then he opened the paper and read it.

“Who would do such a thing?” Marydyth managed to croak out. She had read the vile words and felt her blood turn to ice.

“Somebody who doesn’t want to get any older,” Flynn snarled.

“Oh, Flynn.” Her throat was thick and tight.

“Marydyth, honey.” Flynn drew her into his arms and felt her sag against his chest. “I swear to you, Marydyth, I won’t let anybody hurt Rachel or you.”

But even Flynn’s strong voice could not erase the horrible threat from her mind. She could see the words each time she shut her eyes, felt their sting in her heart.

Open the Lavender Lady and Rachel Hollenbeck will die.

Flynn strode down the main street of Hollenbeck Corners with Rachel and Marydyth at his side. He looked neither right nor left but every nerve in his body was tuned for danger.

“Are you sure about this?” Marydyth asked softly as the Hollenbeck
Herald
came into view.

“I’m sure.” Flynn stopped walking and turned to her. His jaw looked as if it had been hewn out of stone but
his eyes were soft and full of concern. “Do you trust me, Marydyth?”

“With my life.”

A ghost of a smile softened his expression for just a moment and he laid a loving hand on top of Rachel’s soft, rusty golden curls. “I’ll keep both of you safe. From now on you’ll stay with me day and night.”

“That won’t be a hardship,” Marydyth said. She wished she could banish the terrible specter of danger that seemed to be with them day and night.

“Glad you feel that way.” He gazed at Marydyth. “I have to do this. We have to set a trap.”

“If you say it will be all right, then we are with you.” Marydyth looked down at her daughter. Rachel smiled and gripped her finger. Mercifully, Rachel was too young to know she was in danger.

“Good, then let’s go talk to the foreman and set a trap to catch a skunk.”

Marydyth put the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table and turned to open the oven door on the Monarch stove. The inside of the kitchen felt about the same temperature as hell on a busy day. She felt a tendril of sweat snake from her hairline to her neck.

“Something smells wonderful,” Flynn said as he walked into the kitchen with Rachel on his shoulders. He winked at Marydyth and she felt her cheeks grow hotter, if that were possible.

“You know how to feed a man, Marydyth. Steak and potatoes is my favorite.” He awkwardly set Rachel on her feet as she giggled.

“How about you, honey? Do you like steak?”

“No, Unca Flynn! Only ’tatoes for me.” She laughed and climbed into the chair.

Marydyth was about to sit down opposite Flynn when there came a knock on the back door.

Flynn’s eyes narrowed and his entire posture changed. He went from laughing and teasing Rachel to the serious, cautious behavior of a lawman. His fingers hovered near the gun strapped on his lean hip as he strode across the room. Marydyth drew Rachel from the chair and moved her to a secure spot near the hand pump, out of sight of the window and away from the door.

“Who is it?” Flynn stood a little to the side, determined to make himself a hard target.

“What’s the matter, Mama?” Rachel asked.

“Shh, honey, we are playing a game,” Marydyth whispered. She tried to smile but it felt as if her face would crack from the effort.

“Oh.” Rachel’s Cupid’s-bow mouth made a little O.

“It’s Ted Kelts,” a voice on the other side of the door announced. Marydyth felt all the tension drain from her body. She moved away from her place of safety. “It’s only Ted. Invite him in, Flynn. He can eat with us.”

Flynn cast Marydyth a withering gaze but he opened the door and let Ted inside.

“Mmm. Something smells mighty good, Marydyth.” Ted leaned over the table and inhaled the aroma.

“Pull up a chair and join us,” Marydyth invited.

“Are you sure it’s all right? I mean I don’t want to intrude. Even though your good cooking is making my mouth water.”

Flynn snorted but he remained silent as he sat down. He watched Ted from the corner of his eye. He didn’t like the man and he knew the reason why. Ted Kelts was entirely too
interested
in Marydyth.

“Tell me how you’ve been, Marydyth?” Ted grinned
at her as he heaped potatoes on his plate. “I haven’t seen you since we had morning coffee together.”

Flynn locked gazes with Marydyth over the table.

“Oops. Did I tell tales out of school?” Ted said with a contrite expression. “I assure you it was completely proper, Flynn.”

“Marydyth is a grown woman,” Flynn said sharply. “She doesn’t owe me any explanations.”

“Good.” Ted smiled at Marydyth. “Because I have always had a tender spot for this lady.”

Marydyth felt her face flushing. She wanted to explain to Flynn but she had kept her meeting with Ted secret, hoping against hope that he could unearth some clue about who was making the threats. When she met his gaze he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“What have you two been up to lately? Rumors are circulating all over town about the Lavender Lady,” Ted said casually as he forked a thick steak onto his plate.

“Well, Flynn and I had—”

Flynn kicked Marydyth’s shin with the toe of his boot.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, my boot slipped,” he lied. He gave her a series of meaningful glances. She realized that he wanted her to keep their difficulties quiet.

“You had a what?” Ted asked.

“A little accident with the buggy on a picnic, but we’re all fine,” Flynn finished quickly before Marydyth could say anything.

Ted Kelts glanced at Flynn. “Yeah, I heard about that. Too bad about your arm. Actually, that’s why I am here. I’d be willing to take the Lavender Lady off your hands and get it up and running if you’re not up to it.”

Flynn wasn’t sure what rankled him more—Ted Kelts’s implication that he wasn’t man enough to do what
needed to be done, or the man’s continued efforts to spend time with Marydyth.

“Are you sure you’re interested in seeing the mine reopen?” Flynn asked. He didn’t miss the incredulous stare that Marydyth gave him.

“Why do you think I’ve been wanting to buy it? Another mine working in the area could do wonders for the economy. I am a businessman, Flynn, and I like profit.”

Flynn scowled as he viciously cut the steak on his plate. He grudgingly admitted to himself that he would have been pleased as punch to find out Ted Kelts was the sidewinder behind all the trouble. But if Ted actually wanted to see the Lavender Lady open, then it had to be somebody else since all the clues pointed to someone who didn’t want to see it running again. Somebody who Flynn hoped would take the bait he and Marydyth had so painstakingly put into both Hollenbeck Corners’s newspapers.

The evening passed pleasantly enough. Ted Kelts made small talk, gossiping mostly about other businessmen, and letting Flynn know that Mrs. Young had packed up and left town “rather than live in a town with
that
woman.”

As the moon was chasing the sun across the sky, Flynn sat down in the big chair and rolled himself a smoke.

“Would you like a light?” Ted asked as he pulled a box of stick matches from his shirt pocket.

“Naw, I never light ’em,” Flynn admitted gruffly.

“Oh.” Ted barely suppressed his laughter. After a few more minutes of small talk he finally stood up and straightened his vest over his belly. “Fine meal, Marydyth, and I thank you. I had better get going. Marydyth,
I hope you’ll come with me to the Blue Belle for dinner real soon and let me return the favor.”

Flynn gave her a look that would curdle milk.

“Why thank you, Ted, I’d like that,” Marydyth replied as she rose from her chair to walk Ted to the door. When she returned to the parlor Flynn’s dark eyes held all the wrath of an indignant warrior.