The Christmas Journey (9 page)

She fisted her hands on her hips. “I didn’t follow you all the way out to Whistler’s Meadow, play nursemaid over you, and then haul your wounded carcass back here just so you could pass out on some train between here and Foxberry.”

“Miss Wylie, I sincerely appreciate all you’ve done, but I have to get to Foxberry. And no offense, but I don’t see as you’ve much say in the matter.”

As if she didn’t have enough responsibilities already, now she had a pigheaded patient to deal with. Fool man. He might have come to her rescue, but his shining armor was starting to tarnish.

How could a man who’d so bravely defended first Danny and then her not have enough sense to understand he needed to take it easy until he healed proper? Was it because he was so eager to play the hero for his precious Belle?

She glared down at him. “Oh, don’t I? Let’s see you get out of this room without your boots or pants.”

That caught his attention. He glanced around the room, then back at her with narrowed eyes. “Where are they?”

“In the washroom. Cora Beth takes her duty as lady of the house very serious.”

She grabbed the tray with enough force to rattle the dishes and headed for the door. The man ought to realize just how lucky he was. At least he
could
look forward to the day when he could leave. If she were in his place that alone would be enough to sweeten her temper a bit.

Of course, he was in a hurry to see this Belle of his. Jo paused at the doorway and gave him a narrow-eyed look of her own. “Your lady friend will just have to wait a bit longer. If she’s worth her salt, she’d want you to take care of yourself first.”

From the tightening of his jaw she saw she’d riled him. Well, sometimes that happened when you were looking out for
folks. Being in charge of everyone else’s welfare didn’t always make you the most popular gal around.

And if someone else wanted the job, then by George she was more than willing to let them take over. But so far, no one had come forward to claim it.

R
y watched Josie exit the room, his irritation at her highhandedness tempered by a reluctant admiration, and maybe something else. The woman’s concern for his well-being was misguided but genuine. She was such an intriguing mix—full of spit and vinegar, but with a generous heart that drove her to try to take care of anyone she thought needed her.

Like him.

He still marveled at the way she’d disregarded her own welfare to come to his rescue, then put herself through the grueling ordeal of getting him back to town. He hadn’t felt that kind of focused, genuine concern in a long time, and he wasn’t quite certain how to react. It was tempting to stay awhile and try to learn more about her.

But right now his priority had to be Belle. They’d been good friends during those four years she’d spent at Hawk’s Creek before he moved to Philadelphia. In fact, she’d been like a sister to him. They’d lost touch after she married—the life of an itinerant preacher’s wife wasn’t conducive to regular communication. But he still felt that same sense of kinship and responsibility for her he had all those years ago.

What had driven Belle to send that dire-sounding telegram? He shifted restlessly, itching to climb out of bed and head for Foxberry despite Josie’s admonitions to the contrary. Those three stark lines from her telegram had played relentlessly through his mind ever since he’d first read it.

SITUATION DESPERATE. MUST SEE YOU WITHOUT DELAY. PLEASE COME.

Why hadn’t he thought to send Griff on ahead to see to her? Perhaps he should still—

“My, my, young man, whatever did you do to set Jo off like that?”

Ry turned to find a balding gentleman peering at him over horn rimmed glasses from the doorway. “Sir?”

“Jo. I just passed her stomping down the hall muttering something about ‘stubborn, pigheaded fools’ under her breath.”

Stubborn, huh? Now there was a case of the pot calling the kettle black. “We had a slight disagreement over how soon I’d be well enough to be on my way.”

“Oh-ho, I see.” Ry’s visitor chuckled and stepped into the room. “Jo’s not ready to turn loose of her hero just yet.”

There was that word again. What had that mind-of-her-own woman been saying while he was unconscious? “I’m no hero, sir. Far from it in fact.”

“Jo seems to think otherwise, and she doesn’t give praise lightly. I’m Grover Collins by the way.”

So this was Josie’s Uncle Grover. “Glad to meet you, sir. But you have the story backward. It’s Miss Wylie who did the rescuing.”

“Please, call me Uncle Grover. And no need to be modest, my boy. Between Danny’s account of the fracas in the livery and Josie’s telling of the shoot-out in Whistler’s Meadow, we’re all quite determined to declare you a bona fide hero.”

Ry swallowed a groan. “Let’s just say, then, that Miss Wylie and I rescued each other.”

The older gentleman chuckled. “A man who understands when to dig in his heels and when to compromise. Yes, you’ll do.”

Do for what?

Uncle Grover, however, seemed ready to change the subject. “Do you like bugs?” he asked.

“Bugs?” Josie had said the man was forgetful, but was he addled as well?

The older man waved a hand. “You know, insects.”

“I can’t say as I’ve thought about it much.”

“Fascinating creatures. Remarkable, really. Most are highly organized and amazingly efficient.” He leaned back on his heels and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “People could learn a lot from the way bugs conduct themselves.”

Ry relaxed as understanding dawned. “I take it you’re an entomologist?”

The man beamed at him. “You’re familiar with the science.”

“Only in passing.”

“Ah, well, we’ll remedy that. Once you’re feeling better you can accompany me on an entomological expedition. I dare say you’ll be surprised at what exciting specimens can be found right here in the woods around Knotty Pine.”

“That sounds fascinating, sir, but I’m afraid I’ll have to be on my way as soon as I’m able to travel.”

“Ah, pity. Well, perhaps you can stop by for another visit on your way back through here.”

“Perhaps.” Ry kept his response deliberately noncommittal.

“Excellent. In the meantime, I’ll let you rest. Jo left strict orders not to tire you out with a lot of talk. I’m sure we’ll have a chance to chat again before you leave.”

So, even though she thought him a “pigheaded fool,” she was still worried enough to try to mollycoddle him.

Women sure were a tough lot to understand. Especially this particular, very hard-headed, very intriguing woman.

“Shh, Pippa, you’ll wake him up.”

Ry roused from a half sleep. Had that been a child’s voice? Or was he hallucinating again?

“Is this what a hero looks like, Audrey?” The whisperer sounded doubtful.

Josie’s nieces? He was starting to feel like the main attraction at a circus exhibition.

“Of course, silly.” There was a definite note of authority in the response. Audrey was undoubtedly the ringleader.

“But he’s just laying there.”

“I’m glad. I didn’t like it when he was carrying on. I thought he was gonna hurt Aunt JoJo.”

Ry mentally winced. What had he done while feverish?

“He wouldn’t hurt her, Lottie. He’s a true enough hero. He got shot up saving her from the bad men, remember?”

Ry opened his eyes to find three little girls standing beside his bed. The two youngest, as alike as a pair of pennies, took an involuntary step back.

The oldest, however, who must be all of six or seven, graced him with a never-met-a-stranger smile. “Hello,” she said brightly. “I’m Audrey.”

Yep, definitely the ringleader. “Hello, Audrey. And who are your friends?”

“My sisters, Pippa and Lottie. Actually their names are Philippa and Charlotte, because they were named after our pa, Philip Charles Collins. But I wasn’t named after anyone so I’m just Audrey.”

A chatterbox in addition to being a ringleader. “Well, Just Audrey,” he said, “to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Audrey giggled. “You even talk like a hero.”

Ry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Was he ever going to live down that appellation? “Why don’t you just call me Mr. Lassiter? So, you were around when they brought me in?”

“Yes, sir. You sure were carrying on something awful, arms flying and mumbling about fire and rivers and bells. Momma said you were de-lir-us.”

Ry winced at the reminder. And just what had he said about Belle? “My apologies, ladies, if I upset you.”

“Oh, you didn’t scare us or anything.” The self-appointed spokeswoman glanced toward her sisters. “Well, maybe Pippa and Lottie, but only a little. We were just worried ’cause I heard Doc Whitman say you might die from the fever, and that upset Aunt JoJo a lot.”

“What are you girls doing in here?” Cora Beth stood in the doorway, a fresh pitcher of water in her hands. “Scat now. Mr. Lassiter’s supposed to be resting. And Audrey, didn’t Mr. Saddler assign you some lessons to go over?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The three girls scooted past their mother, but not before Audrey gave him a friendly goodbye wave.

“I’m sorry if they disturbed you,” Cora Beth said. “I should have known Audrey would head straight here as soon as she got home from school. And of course the twins take their lead from her.”

“No need to apologize. They weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but we don’t want to tax your strength. You’re still on the mend, after all.”

“Actually, I’m feeling much stronger. Must be that wonderful broth of yours.”

She beamed at his compliment. “Why, thank you. I do pride
myself on being a passable cook. If you’re still here next week for Thanksgiving, I’m planning quite a feast.” She set the pitcher on the bedside table. “Still, you mustn’t try to do too much too soon. I have enough of that with Jo.”

He frowned. “Is something ailing your sister?”

“She got bruised up pretty bad when her horse threw her, not that she’d admit as much. I tried to talk her into taking it easy for a few days, but that sister of mine has a head harder than a brick. That’s the only reason Danny hasn’t been in to bother you, too—I sent him to relieve her as soon as he got home from school.”

Cora Beth shook her head, a look of exasperation on her face. “Not only won’t she take it easy, if anything, between watching over you the past two nights and spending all day at the livery, Jo’s been working harder than before.”

Ry frowned. He’d assumed it was Mrs. Collins who’d sat up with him, not Josie.

His hostess paused in the act of pouring a glass of water and gave him a guilty look. “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“That’s all right, ma’am. I should be the one apologizing for the trouble I’ve caused. And I’m truly grateful to your whole family for all you’ve done. But you can rest easy—I promise I won’t need any watching over tonight.”

She gave him a generous smile. “You’re a good man. I can see why Jo is so taken with you.”

Taken with him? He certainly hadn’t seen any signs of that in their last encounter. Other than that whole hero thing. Still, the thought made him smile.

Before she could try to lift the glass to his lips, Ry took it from her with his good hand.

She nodded approvingly. “I can see by the way you were talking to my girls that you’re good with children, too. You’re going to make a great father someday.”

Ry barely avoided choking on his water. Was it mere coincidence that she’d conversationally tied him to both Josie and fatherhood in the matter of seconds? Surely she wasn’t trying to play matchmaker between him and her sister.

Not that he had anything against Josie. Sure, she was more gruff than most ladies of his acquaintance, but she was also a bold, spirited woman with lots to offer some lucky man.

Just not him. The two of them would make about as good a match as a cougar and a wolf.

The muffled sound of a hail interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, there’s Dr. Whitmore,” Cora Beth said. “He promised to check in on you this afternoon.”

The doctor—good. Ry should be able to help convince these nice but overly cautious folks that he was strong enough to travel. It was a train ride after all—not a headlong gallop over rocky terrain.

It was high time he was on his way.

Jo marched down the sidewalk rolling her shoulders and neck to ease the stiffness. Her bruises were mostly healed now, though she still had a tender spot here and there. Not that she’d admit as much to Cora Beth. There was nothing her sister liked better than mollycoddling folks, and nothing Jo liked less than having someone think they knew better than she did what was best for her.

She’d be hanged if she’d pay someone her hard-earned money to watch the livery when she was capable of doing so herself.

“Hey, Jo.” Amos stepped out of the telegraph office, waving a piece of paper. “That Lassiter fella’s got a response already.”

Well, that was fast. “Thanks, I’m just heading up to the house now.”

Jo continued down the sidewalk, fighting the urge to unfold
the note and read it herself. He’d said he hadn’t seen the woman in over twelve years. Why the long separation? Had they had a falling out of some sort? Who’d done what to who?

Was Belle the sort of woman to play on a man’s honorable nature to get her way? What if the message made him more anxious than ever to get to Foxberry? What if Belle had awful things to say about him being delayed?

Jo fingered the telegram as she paused on the front porch. The last thing Mr. Lassiter needed was more guilt heaped on his plate right now.

Her finger was actually between the folds when she got hold of herself. No matter her reasons, it was wrong to pry in someone else’s personal business.

But so help her, if this Belle tried to make him feel the least bit guilty…

She found Mr. Lassiter’s door open a crack, but knocked anyway. “Hello, it’s me, Jo.”

The bed creaked and then he said something she couldn’t quite make out. Deciding it was an invitation to enter, she pushed the door wider. Then frowned as she saw him swaying on the edge of the bed.

“Just what in blue blazes do you think you’re doing?”

“Sitting up,” he said through gritted teeth.

“And a fine job you’re doing of it, too.” She marched across the room and set the telegram on the bedside table. “Here, let me help you back down.”

It was an indication of how much the effort had cost him that he didn’t protest. “Let me guess,” she said as she straightened the coverlet over him once more, “you were planning to sneak out and walk to Foxberry.”

The sideways look he cut her was a mix of exasperation and exhaustion. She suddenly felt sorry she’d fussed at him.

“Just testing my limits.” His voice sounded forced.

“Is that what the doc told you to do?”

“He gave me the usual doctor talk about getting plenty to eat and lots of rest. He also said that, so long as I didn’t overtax myself, I should regain most of my strength in short order.”