Sweetwater (Birdsong Series) (10 page)

Cassie turned three shades of red. “I’m sorry, but we were
just
hypnotizing
how things would
have to change here, at the hotel, if you married the doc.”

Emily giggled and looked to Patty who appeared to be
slightly embarrassed, herself. “Can you translate that for me, Patty?”

“Cassie’s new word for the day is
hypothesizing
. As I was just saying . . . you and Blake seemed to
be getting along very well, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you got
married someday. Cassie was worried about the gardens. I think you heard her
reaction to learning how to grow all those luscious vegetables of yours.”

Emily smiled, sincerely. “Well, never fear, dear Cassie. I
have no intention of marrying the good-looking doctor now or later, but I do
have
every
intention of buying my
farm. When that day arrives, I am afraid I will be moving out of town.”

Patty thought this over for a moment and then her face
brightened. “That would be perfect. You could grow all the fruits and
vegetables needed, on your farm, and the hotel would buy them. Several times a
week, Whiskey could take the wagon out and load up. We’d have to take care of
the flowers here, of course, but I’m sure we would all pitch in, yes, Cassie?”

“I suppose so,” the young woman muttered reluctantly, still
admiring her beautiful soft hands. “Adam likes my hands,” she uttered under
her breath.

“Good morning to the three most beautiful women in Kansas.
It is indeed a glorious morning, don’t you agree?” Blake burst into the warm
kitchen. “What’s on the menu? I could eat the backside of a horse, this
morning.” He glanced over at Emily and winked, then, proceeded to pull out a
chair for her.

“Miss . . . would you care to take a seat next to mine?”

Emily knew that two pair of inquisitive eyes were aimed
directly at them, so she decided to play along with this insufferable, but
adorable, man. “How gallant of you, sir. I would, indeed.”

The happy couple looked up at the
kitchen staff
, expecting to be fed. “Well?” Emily smiled. “What
are you waiting for?”

Patty answered with a smile of her own. “I need to attend
the front desk. This is still a hotel. Cassie, get to those four rooms.
We’ve got reservations coming in on the next train.”

Turning back, she said to the two pranksters still sitting
at the table,
“Bon appétit!”
Then,
she swiftly left the room.

After a moment’s silence, Blake laughed out loud. “The
flower and vegetable gardens at this hotel are magnificent, as is the food, but
the service is lousy!”

“I couldn’t agree more. I think you should speak with an
owner and complain most vociferously,” Emily giggled. She felt his gaze upon
her lips and his hand upon her knee.

“Miss, I need better service if you wish me to recommend
this hotel to my friends and acquaintances. Could you be persuaded to attend
to my needs?”

“You’re a bad guest, sir. I think you need to be taught a
lesson . . . tonight . . . and in private.”

“Ooh la la!”
Blake
shouted. “I do love the French!”

“In that case, you go fetch the eggs, and I’ll go out and
pick some peppers. I’ll cook you up a French omelet.”

“Ome—what?” he asked.

“It’s one of Patty’s specialties. It’s scrambled eggs,” she
laughed.

Blake grabbed the egg basket and headed out toward the hen
house, and Emily grabbed her vegetable basket. As the door closed behind her,
something caught her shawl.

“Oh, now what?” Emily tugged on her wrap carefully, not
wanting to rip the delicate yarn, when she noticed it was caught on the
splintered wood surrounding the lock.

“That’s strange,” she mused. Then as quickly as
comprehension dawned, she lost her color. “Blake! Blake, come here,” she
yelled.

Immediately, Blake came running, basket flying out at his
side, eggs spilling to the ground. “”Emmie. What’s wrong?” He knew that
she’d found trouble. Breathless upon arrival, he panted. “What’s going on?”

Emily simply pointed to the damaged door and her shawl,
still caught on the splintered wood. Her whole body was quaking with fear and
Blake immediately knew the significance of this damaged door. He looked
closer.

“Whoever did this, was definitely trying to gain access to
the hotel.”

Blake looked at the ground just outside the door, hoping to
discover tracks of some kind. “I don’t see anything in the yard, but we’re not
going to take any chances. I’ve got to check on old Hattie Forsyth this
morning, but I’ll be back before lunchtime. I’ll change the lock and repair
the door as good as new. We’ll reinforce it from the inside as well, just to
ensure that no one can get in without our knowing.”

Emily nodded and placed her hand on Blake’s arm. “Thank
you. I know I may be making a fuss over nothing, but that man was up to no
good. I shudder to think of someone getting in here. Cassie is so
vulnerable.”

“Darling. You all are in danger and I vow to protect you.
Whiskey will be back soon, too. A man would have to be just plain stupid to
cause trouble with both of us here. Don’t worry, but until then, keep an eye
out for strangers lurking about. Talk to Patty and Cassie and let them know
that none of you women are to leave the hotel alone.”

Emily nodded. “Do you still want those eggs?”

Blake smiled. “I’m running late. Hattie will think I
forgot her. Just feed me more at noon.” Then he leaned over and kissed Emily
on the top of her head. “I love you,” he whispered as he turned and walked
away.

The lovely lady touched her fingers to her lips and smiled.
“Well, I’d better get to work. This could be a long day,” she said to herself.

* * *

“Dammit, Dusty. I was almost inside, when that dang girl
checked the door. Scared the livin’ daylights out of me. I knowed she saw me,
but I don’t think she could see my face clear. I’m just gonna grab her in the
daytime. She’s gonna be less scared and I can take her by surprise,” Lucas
grinned, showing a mouthful of yellow and black teeth. Dental hygiene had
never been a priority with the man. “She’s worth her weight in gold, I tell
ya’. She’s so damn purdy and all.”

“I don’t like this, Lucas. I say we ride on out of here.
We don’t need to get tied up with her again. She’s bad luck. I feel it in my
bones. Besides . . . she’s my blood kin. I don’t like the idea of just
sellin’ her to the highest bidder. This is gonna go bad. I know it.”

“Aw, shut the hell up, you little weasel. I don’t know why
I keep ya’ around. She’s just your half sister anyways. Think of all that
money we can get for her. Too bad she’s found herself a feller. She’d be
worth a whole lot more, if’n she was untouched.”

The younger man stood up and scratched his stomach, looking
like he needed a good meal. “Fine. Whatever you say, old man. Right now, I’m
goin’ to the Tumbleweed and get drunk and find me a redhead for the night.
I’ll see you when I see you.” He stomped out of the dirty shack they’d found
abandoned, down by the rail crossing.

Dusty remembered the early days back in Sedalia, Missouri.
His ma had been right pretty, once. She’d had the blackest hair and the bluest
eyes of anyone he’d ever seen . . . and he remembered the sound of her tinkling
laughter. She loved to laugh, and she loved him. It wasn’t until his pa had
been shot down, in the street, that their lives changed forever.

His pa was a good man, but he loved to drink whiskey and
play cards. He was good at drinking, but not so good at playing five-card
stud. More than once, he’d lost everything they owned. The last night of his
life, he’d been cheated. Everyone knew it, but they were too afraid to
confront the gambler. As John Falkenrath stood up, he spit on the man raking
in his ill-gotten gains. As it was impolite to shoot up one’s own domicile,
the gambler insisted his pa step out into the street. John had no choice.

Dusty stepped up on the sidewalk in front of the Tumbleweed
Saloon. “Damn it, pa. Look at me,” he muttered. He was twenty-eight and
living like a wanted desperado, always looking over his shoulder, avoiding the
law, and never making friends. He hated Lucas. He wished him dead. Dusty
kicked the door open and practically growled his intent. “A whiskey and
Barbara Ann.” This was his life.

Blake stood back and inspected the new lock and the door
repairs. “I think this will hold for now, but I’ll not rest easy until we find
out who did this,” he told Patty. “I’ve got a suspicion that it has something
to do with Emmie and that drunk she ran into. Patty, I’m afraid for her
safety, but I don’t want to scare her more by being too cautious. Could you
keep an extra close watch on her for a while?”

Patty’s knees were starting to tremble with fear of the
unknown, but she nodded, bravely. “Don’t give it another thought, Doc,” she
declared with a little too much bravado. “Cassie and I can do what’s needed to
be done around here. You go and do whatever you have to do. Everything will
turn out just fine. You’ll see.” She swallowed hard, praying she was right.
“Maybe Cassie can get that handsome soldier of hers to come and stand guard,”
she laughed.

“Sounds good to me, Patricia.”

“What? Did you call me Patricia?” She pretended offense.

“I surely did, ma’am. It’s a right pretty name, I think,”
he chuckled, knowing full well he was baiting the lovely redhead. He figured
she needed to be distracted from the seriousness of the predicament they had
found themselves in.

Narrowing her vibrant green eyes, she calmly stated, “No one
ever paid you to think, Doc. My name is Patty.” With that, she swished her
full skirts through the door and retreated to her friendly and very inviting
lobby, boasting of the European elegance found in abundance.

The wagon rolled to a stop in front of the Birdsong Hotel,
and a very happy and surprisingly spry Whiskey jumped down to secure the team.
He threw the reins over the hitching rail and practically ran back to help his
wife, Dora, down from her perch, high above the ground. It was heartening to
witness these two mature people so obviously in love with one another. Their
faces beamed with happiness at their newfound joy.

Patty was the first out on the porch. She called for the
rest of the staff to come running. “Cassie . . . Emily . . . out front.
We’ve got special guests.”

“Special guests? This time of day?” Emily answered back.
The train wasn’t due for several hours yet, and there were no unexpected
reservations that she knew of. Wiping the soil from her hands, she ran toward
the front of the hotel.

Upon rounding the corner of the porch, still covered in
rich, black garden soil, she ran straight into Cassie, knocking them both to
the ground. The women screamed in surprise, and immediately fell into fits of
laughter as they looked up and saw an unusually amused Whiskey and Dora,
staring down at them.

“Well,” Dora chuckled, “It’s good to see nothin’s changed
whilst we’ve been gone.”

Whiskey gave the giggling girls each a hand, and pulled them
to their feet. “It sure is good to be back. The place looks dandy. We stayed
at the finest hotel in Phoenix, but it weren’t near as nice as this ‘un. The
train took Dora and me back through Texas and up through Oklahoma. It sure is
a big country, but there ain’t nothin’ as wonderful as comin’ home. I ain’t
never leavin’ it again.”

“They could have used me in the kitchen, that’s for
certain,” Dora exclaimed. “Everythin’ was over salted and underdone, or cooked
to a crisp. And Emily, you’d die if you saw what they growed in their pitiful
gardens. It’s a wonder they get anythin’ out of ‘em. I missed you girls.”
Dora opened her arms wide and tried to embrace all the women at once. Tears
immediately sprung up in her happy, but tired, eyes. That set off a chain
reaction of tears. Before Blake could get to the door, all the women, and even
crusty old Whiskey, were sobbing and laughing and wiping at their eyes.

Clearing his throat to draw attention to himself, Dr.
Donovan stood looking at the joyful reunion. “Is something going on out here?”
he asked innocently, trying to conceal his grin. “I’d like some lunch, please,
if it ain’t too much trouble. This is still a hotel, isn’t it? And I am a
guest here, am I not?”

Just then, a dirty garden glove sailed past his head.
“Since when did you need one of us to fix you something to eat? You know where
the kitchen is, Doc.” Emily’s eyes were blazing with amusement.

Dora pulled away from the jovial group. “No, no, no,” she
hollered. “I’ve been dreamin’ of comin’ back here and getting in my kitchen
again. I’ll have vittles set out in one shake of a lamb’s tail. How many
guests, Patty?”

“Just two for lunch.”

“Whoopee! Give me fifteen minutes and then ring the dinner
bell. I ain’t had this much fun since . . . well . . . shucks. I’ve done
gone and embarrassed myself. But it was fun, wasn’t it, Whiskey, honey?” Her
face had turned bright red and a twinkle shown in her bright eyes. She patted
the old man on his sleeve before she disappeared into the hotel.

“Can I give you a hand, Whiskey?” Blake asked. “I need to
talk to you about some things concerning me.”

“Hell, yeah, you can lend me a hand. That woman of mine
loves to shop for her gals. We’ve got boxes from nearly ever’where the train
stopped. She even bought you some doo-dads. But I sure do love her, Doc.
She’s one fine, sturdy lady. Now what’s the trouble?”

Blake told the big man about the prowler and the broken
door. He told him about Emily’s past and about her worries concerning her
stepfather showing up.

“She thinks he may be in town and might cause her harm. I’d
rest a whole lot easier if I knew you’d be keeping a close watch over Emmie.
In the mean time, I’ll do my best to see if I can’t hunt this varmint down.”

“This has been goin’ on for too long, Doc. But don’t you
worry none about Emily. I’ll guard her and the rest of the gals, with my very
life. You just be careful. This man sounds like a bad ‘un. Watch your back,
son.”

Blake nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “I think you
got the right of it. Now, let’s get that wagon unloaded before those women
come out here and catch us gossiping.” He laughed. It was good to have
Whiskey and Dora back home. They belonged to the Birdsong, and the place
wasn’t the same without them.

* * *

The big clock on the stairs struck eleven and the hotel was
finally quiet. A family had arrived by train, and they proved to be a lively
bunch. With one set of red headed, twin boys, age five, and three little girls
all under seven years, it was a noisy and uproarious group, to be sure.

Patty loved the children that came to stay. As energetic as
they all were, they were just that precious, too. Happy, healthy children were
a blessing to everyone around them, she thought. When she had the time, Patty
would often organize games and crafts for the children to complete, to help
pass the hours. Mr. and Mrs. Gustav Kerber were a delightful couple and their
children were adorable.

It was late, and Blake was still awake. He’d delivered a
baby that evening, and he wasn’t convinced the little thing would be alive come
morning. Her mama and papa were dirt poor and they hadn’t had the proper foods
for a woman carrying a child. The baby girl came early, when her ma fell under
the weight of the laundry tub she had struggled to carry. She had been trying
to make a little extra money, taking in wash for people, and now, she might
lose her one and probably only child, because of it. Sometimes life’s
hardships weighed heavily on the doctor.

He was nodding off, finally, and a good night’s sleep was
not far away, when Blake heard a quiet scratching outside his door. He was on
his feet instantly, with his colt in his hand. Silently, he crossed the room
and stood in deep shadow, adjacent to the door, and waited for it to open.

Slowly and silently, the handle turned, allowing the door to
swing inward about a foot. Pale light shown across the floor, highlighting the
bed against the wall. Blake held his breath. The door opened further and a
black shrouded intruder rushed in and shut the door quickly behind him,
immediately snuffing out the only light entering the room. For a second, no
one moved.

Then the hammer on the colt pulled back, and the noise was
deafening.

“Stop!”

The shadow threw himself up against the closed door and
tried to get away, but Blake had a firm grasp on the intruder’s neck. He
couldn’t utter a sound, but he sure could kick. A shoe struck Blake’s shin
with the force of a mule.

“Ow!” Blake hollered, just as it dawned on him that the neck
he was holding so tightly, was long and delicate. This didn’t feel right. And
that kick was a dainty little shoe, not a boot. Oh, damn it, he thought. What
the hell had he done?

The doctor shut his eyes and forced himself to ask that
all-important question before he let go of his victim’s neck. “Emmie, could
this possibly be you?” He could barely breathe for fear of the answer.

His answer came in another swift kick, only a little higher
up his thigh.

“Hey! Watch where you’re kicking, Em!”

Emily was now coughing and gagging. She thought she might
throw up and it would serve this impossible man right. She should die of her
injuries, right in front of him. He’d never get over that. She hated
him—almost.

Blake was beside himself with remorse for his actions, and
begged Emily for her forgiveness. “Darling, I swear I didn’t know it was you.
Why didn’t you say something before you just barged in?”

“What?” she squeaked.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I just meant that you
should have let me know it was you. God, Emmie! I could have shot you. Even
a dummy knows that you don’t surprise a man in the middle of the night.”

“A dummy?”

“No! You’re not a dummy, Emmie . . . not exactly.”

“
What?
” she
screeched.

“I love you, and you’re beautiful and smart. I just meant
you sometimes don’t think before you do something stupid.”

“
Stupid
, am I?”

Before Blake could make it worse, Emily had pulled away from
his arms and held the door wide open. Giving him one last glaring look that
could freeze over Hades, she slammed the door, and retreated down the hall to
her own room, where she slammed the door again.

“Oh, hell!” Blake sighed. He stumbled back to bed, knowing
he’d never find the shuteye he needed so desperately, now. He’d made a total
mess of things and it would be almost impossible to smooth things over with
Emmie tomorrow. It had all been a huge mistake. She’d realize that, in the
morning. Maybe they’d even laugh about it.

No . . . probably not.

When everyone met in the kitchen, the next morning, the
overall mood was distinctly cool. Each and every one, gathered around the
well-worn table, had heard the slamming of doors the night before. And by the
stormy look on Emily’s usually smiling face, and the look of total chagrin on
the face of the handsome young doctor, it didn’t take a genius to figure out
what had transpired in the wee hours of the night. Curious eyes darted from
one to the other, until Dora decided to put an end to the speculation.

“You might as well come out with it. We all know you had a
lover’s spat. Were you less than a gentleman, Doc? Does Whiskey need to get
his shotgun?” The older woman was as serious as a snakebite. If he had done
anything to harm one of her lambs, he’d have to make things right.

“No, Dora,” Emily sighed. “It was entirely my fault.” She
turned her magnificent blue eyes up to read Blake’s face. “I am the one who
must apologize. I did something stupid and the doc called me out on it. It
was I who slammed the doors. Forgive me, all of you, for disturbing your
slumber.”

“Well, we weren’t asleep yet,” Whiskey volunteered, as he
winked at his feisty wife.

“Neither were we,” Patty said supportively. “I was still
braiding Cassie’s hair. We hardly took notice of the noise. Did we, Cassie?”
Patty asked, raising her eyebrows at the young girl.

Cassie looked bewildered, but shook her head.

Blake was the only one in the room not to have said a word.
He was embarrassed and angry with himself for having caused such a ruckus.
Ordinarily, the doctor was smooth with women. He said and did all the right
things, causing them to swoon over him, but since meeting Emily, he seemed to
have lost all of his finesse. She kept him in a constant state of turmoil and
he couldn’t understand why. In her presence, he always felt as if he was
slightly off-balance. One thing he knew for certain—if he didn’t get hold
of himself soon, he’d lose her, and
that
he could not risk.

The best he could do, at the moment, was sniff and nod his
head once. He tipped his hat and left the hotel, looking forward to setting
bones and cleaning wounds, but first he was going to ride out and check on a
little baby girl. This morning, he needed fresh air and plenty of space to
reorganize his thoughts.

Hubert Anderson came running into the doctor’s office, his
face as white as a sheet. Blake could tell he was in shock and would soon,
more than likely, pass out. He rushed to the attorney’s side and led him over
to the examining table.

“What happened, Hugh?”

“Oh, God. It’s all my fault. I was rearranging my
bookshelves, making space for another, when the shelf started to fall toward me.
I guess I should have removed the books before I tried to move it.”

“I think that would have been wise,” Blake said rather
harshly, as he looked the man over.

“It was either my hand or my head, so I tried to catch it,
as it fell forward. It caught my finger between it and the table. It’s
broken, Doc. I just know it.” He shut his eyes and never looked at his hand.

“Hell, Hugh! You practically lost the damn finger. It’s
barely hanging on.” Just as Blake described the wound to the lawyer, the man doubled
over and slid to the floor in a dead faint.

“Hugh!” Blake yelled, as he caught the man up and softened
his fall. “I have a talent for saying all the wrong things, lately,” he
muttered to himself.

Hubert Anderson was no small man, and it was all Blake could
do, to lift him back up onto the table. Upon further examination of the
finger, the doctor knew he would not be able to save it. Quickly, before
coming to, Blake decided to finish severing the finger. It would hurt like
hell, but it would be better than losing his hand at a later date.

Sure enough, Mr. Anderson awoke to a bandaged hand minus the
pinky finger. It hurt like the dickens, but he was grateful to the doc.

“Now, close up shop for the rest of the week, Hugh. Go home
and stay drunk for a couple of days. Take two of these tablets if the pain
gets too bad. Keep the bandage clean and dry. Come back and see me on Monday.
If anything pops up before then, you know where I live. I’m real sorry about
the finger.”

“It was my own stupidity, Doc. I’ve been doing a lot of
stupid things, lately. I guess it’s the love of a good woman that makes me act
this way. Ever since I started seeing Nellie, I can’t seem to think straight.
Sure hope this condition is temporary,” he snickered.

“Believe me, I know just what you’re going through,” Blake
responded, shaking his head in resignation. “I hope I survive it. Being in
love, I mean.”

“Well,” the attorney got up, a little unsteadily, and headed
toward the door. “If there’s anything I can do for you, you just gotta’ ask,
Doc.”