To Know Her by Name (6 page)

“What is it?”

“I need you to go to town. I need you to send a telegram.”

“I was just in Boulder,” Pup said calmly, thinking this was all the explanation necessary.

“I need you to go back.”

Rather surprised that he would argue with her, Pup took a moment to respond.

“I don't like going into town,” she said simply. “Did you want some breakfast?”

“No, but I—” McKay wasn't given a chance to finish. His hostess had already moved from the doorway.

He lay staring at the ceiling, asking himself how the conversation could have gone so badly. It was certainly true that Callie Jennings didn't owe him anything, but she hadn't even been willing to hear what he had to say. It didn't occur to McKay that he hadn't been listening either. He was so dead set on having that telegram sent that he didn't care whether she liked going to town or not.

He heard the rattle of pans and knew Callie would be making breakfast. He was hungry, but his mind was so centered on sending word to Carlyle that he easily put his appetite aside.

I'm still with the treasury department, Lord. I can't put my position on the shelf just because I'm injured. Please help me to rest in You, but also help me to make Miss Jennings see that she needs to do this for me. It's important, Lord, I believe this with all my heart. Help me make her understand.

The sound of an opening door, assumably at the front of the cabin, broke into McKay's thoughts. He was fairly certain Callie must be gone because things in the cabin were now quiet. Outside and from a distance he thought he heard the chopping of wood. It was such a common sound that it drove him crazy. The world was going on in a normal fashion, and he was stuck in this bed. A moment earlier he'd prayed for peace, but now all such thoughts flew out of his head. Feeling almost desperate, he shifted the covers slightly and tried to sit up.

Pain ripped through his shoulder, but that wasn't the worst of it. There was nothing there—no energy, no tensing of his muscles for action—nothing. It was as if every ounce of strength had been drained away through a small bullet hole. Defeated and breathing heavily, McKay fell back against the pillow. He heard the door open again but didn't move. After a moment his eyes shifted and he found his hostess watching him from the other room.

“You all right?” she asked solicitously.

“I tried to sit up,” he admitted.

Pup moved toward the bedroom door, stopping when she was next to the bed.

“I imagine it will take some time. It would probably help if you ate, but it's up to you.”

She started away, but McKay caught her hand, his hold light because he could manage no more. Thinking he now wanted food, Pup was surprised when he said, “If you would just listen to me, Miss Jennings, I
need
you to go to Boulder. It really is a matter of—”

“No one calls me Miss Jennings,” Pup inserted calmly.

“What?” McKay was completely caught off-guard by this statement.

“I go by Pup, and sometimes Callie. Be sure and let me know if you change your mind about breakfast.”

She turned and walked away before McKay could utter another word. The laid-up man was flabbergasted. Was the woman stupid? She didn't appear to have heard a word he said. Or maybe she was just completely unreasonable. He was torn between confusion and outrage, but over all of this was determination. He simply had to make her see. His mind racing, he called her name again.

“Miss Jennings?”

Pup appeared in the doorway a moment later.

“I'm sorry to trouble you, but I would like to eat now.”

Pup didn't answer but moved off, her expression giving nothing away. She was back inside of three minutes, carrying a steaming plate of fried potatoes, eggs, and salt pork in one hand, and a cup of hot coffee in the other. She tripped on the rug as she came in and dumped a little of the coffee in the plate, but made no apologies and didn't hesitate in her delivery. The plate and cup were set down, the chair was pulled up, and she handed McKay a fork.

“I'll hold the plate for you,” she offered calmly, “if you can manage the fork.”

He didn't say anything as he started on the food, but he choked painfully on the first bite.

With no pomp or ceremony, Pup set the plate aside, bent over McKay and carefully put another pillow behind his head. She then picked up the plate again and held it over his chest. The position was awkward for the injured man, but he knew he would not choke again. He ate the food slowly, not really tasting it because his mind was on other things. The plate disappeared at one point as Pup offered him the coffee; McKay barely noticed what he drank.

“I've had enough,” he said when the plate was half empty, “thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Pup said and stood. She handed him a napkin and waited until he wiped his face. McKay was on the verge of speaking when Pup cut him off.

“I have some neighbors up the mountain—both men. I can get one of them to help you clean up or I can help you, whichever you want.”

This was the last thing McKay expected. He blinked at her stupidly but thought fast and said, “I think if you'll just bring me a rag and towel, I can manage.”

Pup left but was back with a basin of hot water, a towel, a small cloth, and a bar of rough soap just five minutes later. She used the small cloth to soak up some of the water, wrung it out, and handed it to McKay. The warm, wet cloth felt wonderful to the bedridden man. His eyes slid shut as he held it along the line of his beard, and then ran it down the front of his neck and around the back.

His hostess stood calmly by during all of this but took the cloth just as it was cooling. This time she soaped it before handing it back and waited again while McKay slowly scrubbed his face, neck, and arms. He was about halfway through when he began to talk.

“I suppose you have questions. I mean, it would only be natural, and I'd be happy to answer them, but the only thing on my mind right now is your getting a message to Denver for me. I came up this mountain on business, and whether or not I can get out of this bed, I have to see the job done.”

Pup took the cloth at that point, rinsed it, soaped it again, and handed it back to him. In those few seconds, McKay took in the state of her dress—torn in places and stained.

“I'd make it worth your while,” he offered when she looked back at him. Her dispassionate stare made him think he'd offended her so he was quick to add, “I didn't say that as an insult—I just want you to know how badly I need this job done. I'm willing to pay you because there are people counting on me and—”

“You're healing fast.”

McKay took a moment to catch her meaning, but catch it he did.

“Even if I get out of this bed by the weekend …” McKay began, but his voice trailed off and he was silent for a moment.

“How long
have
I been here?” he asked, having just realized he didn't know.

“A week.”

His whole body jerked. “A
week?
” His voice was incredulous as pain slashed across his face.

“Are you done washing?” Pup reached for the cloth.

“You've got to understand how important this is. I've got to get word to Denver.”

Pup took the cloth from his hand and turned toward the basin. She handed him the towel. He ignored it.

“I need you to go to Boulder.”

“Has anyone ever told you what a nag you are?”

“I am not a nag!” McKay was caught off-guard one more time and completely indignant over her comment.

“You're not a nag?” Her tone was clearly skeptical.

“No.” He was still angry.

“What do you call a person who won't take no for an answer?”

“I didn't hear you say no.”

“I said I don't like going into town.”

“Yes, but that was before I had a chance to explain how important this is.”

Unaware that he was getting more out of Pup than most people did, McKay didn't realize that he was pushing way beyond the limit.

“Your having a cause gives you permission to nag?”

“I am not nagging,” he told her again, as if explaining to a slow child. “I've just got to make you see.”

But Pup was done. She left the towel on the bedside table and lifted the basin.

“Miss Jennings, please, if you'll only—”

“I go by Pup or Callie.” Her voice was quiet, but it got through. “I'd appreciate it if you'd remember that.”

Anger and defeat washed over McKay as he watched her walk out the door. His eyes lingered on that empty doorway for a few seconds and then lifted to the ceiling. He knew he had a lot of praying and confessing to do if he wasn't going to lose his mind lying in that bed.

“What brings you up here, Pup?” Percy asked his nearest neighbor, his voice none too friendly.

“I need to return your book and ask Mud a favor.”

“Mud is working,” Percy informed her in a way that warned her not to disturb him.

“I don't need him right this minute,” Pup said calmly, not feeling the need to remind Percy that he was not Mud's keeper. “I'll just find him myself.” She held the book out. Percy took it, his face showing his displeasure, and Pup, finding it easy to ignore him, walked on. A few minutes later she found Mud by the stream. He was bent over the sluice box, his face intent as she approached. He spoke without looking up.

“I don't want you checking on me, do you hear me, Percy?”

Pup stopped, a smile lighting her face.

“Get on outta here, Percy, or I'm going back to bed. I swear I will.”

“What put the burr under your saddle, Mud?”

The man's head shot up. “Oh, Pup, it's you.”

“Nice to see you, too, Mud.”

Mud shook his head, his expression irritated. “Percy's been a royal pain today. Banged around in that kitchen 'til I thought I would lose my mind.” He stopped and studied her. “What brings you up here?”

“My houseguest. Any chance you're headed to town in the next few days?”

“Not if Percy has anything to say about it.”

“Well, if you do, the man has a message he wants telegraphed to Denver.”

Mud didn't bother to ask her why she didn't go herself because he already knew: Pup hated town as much as Percy did. Mud couldn't understand either one of them.

“It won't be tonight, but I'll stop by if I go soon. There's no guaranteeing that the telegraph office will be open when I get there.”

“Well, at least you can say you tried.” She started away but turned back. “He could also use a bath.”

Mud grimaced. “Well, I'll be sure and rush down to take care of that.”

Chuckling at his sarcastic reply, Pup turned away but didn't comment. She walked back down the mountain, her rifle held loosely in one hand. There was no promising that Mud would show up, but at least if he came by it would get McKay off her back.

“Could I please talk to you a moment,” McKay called as soon as he heard the front door open. Pup went straight to the door of his room, three dead rabbits dangling from one hand, the rifle still in the other.

“Did you say you prefer Callie or Pup?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Pup must be a nickname.”

Pup only nodded.

McKay had never encountered such an uncommunicative woman; for a moment he fell silent.

“Did you find my saddlebags with the horse?”

“They're out here. Do you want them?”

“Please.”

Pup went for them immediately, laying them on the bed next to him. She was turning away when he said, “It really is important.”

Pup turned and looked at him. “I'm sure it is.”

They stared at each other. The rabbits and gun were gone, and McKay's hand rested on the leather bags.

“Why haven't you asked me why I came after Govern?”

“I assumed I'd find out sooner or later.”