"You're looking for Daniel Ryan," Douglas told him. "My brothers have been searching for him too." He paused when he heard the creak of the steps behind him. "Did we wake your wife?"
"No, but she's used to snuggling up against me and she must have awakened when she got cold."
"Would you mind telling her to put the gun down?"
Simpson was astonished. "Do you have eyes in the back of your head? Trudy, put that away and come in here. I want you to meet Isabel's friend. He's promised to help our girl." Douglas turned around and nodded to the woman. "I'm sorry I disturbed you and your husband," he began.
Trudy laid the gun on the desk and rushed forward to shake Douglas's hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong for a woman her size, for the top of her head barely reached his shoulders.
"The doctor and I were praying for a miracle. Looks like we might have gotten one. I know you aren't Marshal Ryan. You're big like we were told he was, but you don't have yellow hair and blue eyes, and our preacher gave us a good description of the lawman so we'd recognize him if he came into town. We pray every Sunday that the dear man will hear of our troubles and come here. Could you be a friend of the marshal's? Did he send you here?"
"No, ma'am, he didn't send me here."
She couldn't hide her disappointment. "But you're still going to help our little girl?"
Douglas smiled. The Simpsons' affection for Isabel pleased him. God only knew, she needed good friends now, and it was nice to know she had two champions in Sweet Creek trying to look out for her.
"Yes, I'm going to help her." She squeezed his hand before she let go. "Doctor, I expect I'll go into the kitchen now." She waited until her husband nodded agreement before she looked at Douglas again. "You won't be leaving until I've packed some leftovers for you to take."
"You'll have to work in the dark, Trudy," her husband told her.
"I expect I'll manage. I'll light a candle and put it in the hallway. No one can see inside, doctor."
"Ma'am, I really should be heading back to Isabel." She shook her head at him and left the library in a near run.
Simpson chuckled. "You might as well relax, son. Trudy isn't going to let you leave without a bag full of her home cooking. Sit on down in a chair, proper like, and tell me why your brothers have been searching for the Texan. Do you have troubles where you come from that need the law?"
"No," Douglas answered. "Ryan helped one of my brothers. The fact is, he saved Travis's life."
"So you're wanting to thank him."
"Yes, but also get back a compass he… borrowed."
"Now, that sounds like a mighty curious tale."
"I'll tell you all about it some other time," Douglas promised. "When I was coming here, I noticed your town has a wire service, and I was wondering why you had to go to Liddyville to send your telegrams."
"The only way you could have seen the telegraph office is if you'd been inside the general store. It's in the back room. Why'd you go in there?"
"To get some supplies."
"Did anyone see you?"
"No."
"Good," Simpson whispered. "You broke in, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Did you snap the lock or break a window?"
Douglas was a bit insulted by the question. "No, of course not. Cooper won't know I was there unless he does a close inventory."
Simpson was grinning with pleasure. "I hope you robbed Vernon Cooper blind. His brother, Jasper, runs the wire office, and both the scoundrels are in Boyle's back pocket. No one in Sweet Creek dares send a wire from here unless they want Boyle to know about it, and that's why I used the wire service in Liddyville. Just on principle Trudy and I get all our supplies there too. We'd rather go without than give either one of the Coopers our hard-earned money."
"If Ryan were to show up and arrest Boyle, would the man whose hands were broken testify against him?"
Simpson shook his head. "I expect Ryan will have to find another way to get rid of Boyle," he said, "or run his henchmen out of town first. Wendell's too scared to testify. He's got a wife and two young daughters. He doesn't dare say a word against Boyle, or his family will pay the consequences. The poor man. He's got crops that will be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks, and with broken hands he's going to have to watch them rot."
"Won't some of the town help him?"
"They're afraid to do anything that might make Boyle mad."
"Why does he want Isabel's land?"
"He's telling everyone he wants to put his cattle there to graze. He has a lot of land surrounding his . ranch house, but he rents that out to some foreigners who buy cattle down in Texas and have them brought I up to his land to fatten up. Boyle's made a fortune over the last fifteen years, but he's greedy, and he wants more."
"If he wants to use Isabel's land, why doesn't he do it? She couldn't stop him, and he has to know that."
"He doesn't just want her land, son, he wants her too. He's real blatant about letting everyone know she's going to belong to him. Why, he struts around town like a fat rooster inviting people to the wedding. Folks say he started lusting after her the second he saw her."
"Why is he waiting? He could force her to marry him now."
"You don't understand Boyle the way I do. Pride's involved. He wants her to beg him to marry her, and he figures if he makes her desperate enough, she'll do just that."
"Did he kill her husband?"
"If the bullet hadn't gone through his back, I would have suspected Parker accidentally killed himself. I'm not speaking ill of the dead, you understand. I'm only stating facts, and the fact is that Isabel's husband was about as useful as a kettle with a hole in the bottom, The man had grand notions about all sorts of things. He treated Isabel good though, real good. And he was kind to crazy old Paddy, even though he knew Boyle would hear of it and be furious."
Douglas was intrigued. "Being kind to an old man infuriated Boyle?"
"It's perplexing, isn't it? Paddy came to Sweet Creek straight from Ireland and had lived here for as long as I could remember. Boyle came along about ten years ago and squatted on the land adjacent to where Isabel is living now. Within a year he started building himself a grand three-story house, and when it was finished, it was as fancy as any you'll see in the East, I'll wager you. He filled it with new furniture he had shipped from Europe and then had a big party the whole town was invited to so he could show off the palace. Even Paddy was invited, but something happened that night that started the feud between the two men. No one recollects seeing the two of them together during the shindig, but from that night on, Boyle tormented Paddy with a vengeance. Folks started calling the Irishman crazy then because no matter how often Boyle came after him, Paddy laughed about it. You know what that crazy man told me while I was patching him up one evening? He said he was going to have the last laugh. Can you imagine? The funny thing is, he did."
"How'd he do that?"
"Well now, I'm getting to that, son. Paddy was dying of consumption. He hung on until one Saturday night, because he knew that was when Boyle always went to the saloon to play cards. I happened to be there that night too, and I'll tell you it was the strangest dying I've ever seen. Paddy had dragged himself out of his sickbed, came into the saloon, and then laid down on the floor. He folded his hands together on top of his chest as though he was already in his coffin and announced he was going to die in a few minutes. That's when things turned mighty peculiar. Boyle knocked a chair over running to the old man. He knelt down beside him, waving me and everyone else away, and then he grabbed hold of Paddy's shirt and began to shake him, shouting, Tell me, old man. Tell me who it is.'"
"What happened then?" Douglas demanded to know, fascinated by the bizarre story.
"It got even more peculiar, son, that's what happened. Paddy gave Boyle a big toothless smile and whispered something only Boyle could hear. And then he laughed. As God is my witness, Paddy died laughing. Boyle went crazy. He started choking the dead man and screaming vile names at him. Two of his men had to pull him off the Irishman so the funeral cart could come and collect him, and I heard one of his men ask him why he hadn't killed Paddy years ago. Boyle was still reeling from whatever it was the Irishman had said to him, and all he would mutter was that he couldn't kill him without knowing. The following day Trudy and I went to say our good-bye to old Paddy, and I swear to you when I looked in that coffin, that crazy old man had a big smile on his face. Isn't that the darnedest story you ever heard?" Douglas agreed with a nod. The doctor let out a loud sigh, and then said, "Boyle got over whatever was bothering him as quick as could be and started in pestering Isabel and Parker Grant the following week. No one saw him kill Parker, but everyone believes he did. I expect he thought our girl would fall right into his hands then, being pregnant and helpless and all. That was his big mistake because there isn't anything helpless about Isabel. Naturally she's vulnerable because of the baby, and I figure Boyle, with all his money and power, thought he could snatch her right up."
"Does he have marriage in mind?"
"Oh, he wants her legal," Simpson replied. "Since she hasn't started begging him yet, we think he's waiting for the baby to come along. He's a smart one, Boyle is. Most mothers will do anything to feed their little ones. Isabel's a fine woman, but too pretty for her own good. I lied to Boyle, told him the baby wouldn't come until the end of September, and Isabel didn't start showing until she was well into her fifth month, so Boyle has no reason to think I'm lying. I don't know if the extra time will help much, but I'm hoping Boyle will continue to leave her alone until he sees for himself that the baby's here."
"Doctor, the food's packed up," Trudy called from the hallway. Simpson immediately stood up. "What else can I do to help?" he asked.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd send a wire to my brothers telling them I'll be delayed." The doctor motioned to some paper and a pen. "You write it all down, and I'll see to it first thing in the morning."
"Do you usually go to Liddyville on Mondays to see patients?"
"No, Tuesdays and Fridays are my usual days, but I could come up with a reason to go early."
"There isn't any need for that. Besides, you shouldn't change your routine."
"Are you planning to bring in some help soon?"
"Yes."
"I expected you would," he replied. "I ought to mention something important first. Boyle's going to be leaving to attend his annual family gathering in the Dakotas. He's never missed one in all the years he's lived here, and everyone expects him to leave real soon.You don't want him to bring more men back with him, and I know he'll do just that if he gets word Isabel has evened out the odds. Besides, it's too risky to move the baby now, and you don't want to be worrying about Boyle's men setting her place on fire. They'll do it as sure as thunder follows lightning if they know you're inside."
"How long will Boyle be away?"
"It varies from year to year. There's just no telling. Last year he was gone six weeks, but the year before he was back in a month. I heard it's a big family get-together he attends, and because he's considered to be the most successful of all the relations, he likes to stay a spell to get their adulation."
"I'm going to write down a second message I want you to send when the time comes, and I want you to promise me that if you hear from Ryan, you'll let me know. I'd like to have a word with him."
"How am I going to get word to you?"
"I'm going to come back every Monday night to check in with you."
"Just to find out if I've heard from the marshal? Son, that sounds like you're getting false hopes up. The chances of locating him are mighty slim."
Douglas shook his head. "That isn't my main reason for checking in with you, sir. If I don't show up, you'll know something's wrong, and that's when I want you to send the second telegram. Do you understand?"
"I do," he agreed. "You'll be careful coming back here?"
"Yes," he promised. "I wish there was a way I could get Isabel and the baby to you and your wife though."
"You'd be bringing trouble to town if you tried. Boyle checks in on her, and I'm sure that one of his men will take over the duty while he's gone. If she isn't where she's supposed to be, they'll tear this town apart looking for her. It won't do any good to take them to Liddyville because he's got friends there too, and there isn't another town close enough to be safe for that newborn. You've just got to stay put, son. If you don't let Boyle's men see you, they'll continue to leave Isabel alone. You don't want that monster coming after you. No, sir, you don't."
Douglas didn't agree. "Just as soon as Isabel and her son are safe, I'm going to want Boyle to come after me. Fact is, I'm looking forward to it."
The doctor felt a cold draft permeate his bones. Isabel's champion had smiled when he made his last comment, but his eyes told another story. They were cold… deadly.
Simpson took a step back before he realized he didn't have to be afraid. He followed Douglas into the kitchen and whispered additional advice. "When the time comes, you'll need help, son. There are twenty-four men working the ranch for Boyle, and every one of them is no good riffraff looking for trouble. With Boyle leading them, that makes twenty-five in all."
"I'm not worried. My brothers will come." Simpson's wife heard the remark. "How many brothers are in your family?" she asked. "Five now, including my brother-in-law." Simpson looked incredulous. "Five against twenty-five?"
Douglas grinned. "It's more than enough."
Douglas didn't make it back to the ranch until almost dawn. Before he unloaded the supplies and bedded down the sorrel, he hurried to the cabin to check on Isabel and the baby. She was standing in front of the fireplace with the rifle up and ready. When he called her name and softly knocked, she ran to the door, unbolted the lock, and threw herself into his arms. She didn't mind at all that he was drenched from head to foot.
"I'm so happy you're home."
Her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist. He felt the barrel of the rifle against his back and quickly reached behind him to take it away from her. She continued to hug him while he leaned to the side and put the weapon on the table.
"I couldn't imagine what was taking you so long," she whispered. "But I never once thought you wouldn't come back."
"I'm glad to hear it," he said. "You're shaking. If you'll let go of me, I'll add another log to the fire. New mothers have to be careful. You don't want to get sick."
She didn't want to let go of him. "I'm not cold… I'm just very relieved you're back. Douglas, I was worried about you."
She was trembling almost violently now. He held on to her so she couldn't fall down.
"I was worried about you too," he admitted.
Her face was hidden against his chest. "Did you have any trouble?"
"None at all," he replied. "I got everything on your wish list and a few extras as well. Then I went over to see Dr. Simpson."
"But Boyle told me his men are watching his cottage night and day," she cried out in alarm.
"They never saw me," he assured her. "I met the doctor's wife too. She packed up a bag of food and fresh milk for you."
"Oh, that was nice of her."
"The doctor sent lots of advice."
She was patting his chest. He wondered if she realized what she was doing.
"You're very resourceful, Douglas."And reliable , she silently added. "How did you manage to get in and out of the general store and Simpson's house without being seen? Did you break the locks?"
"No, I just jimmied them open."
"Good heavens, how did you learn to do that?"
"I was a thief a long, long time ago."
For some reason, she found his admission hilarious. He didn't know what to make of her reaction. He liked her laugh though. It was filled with such joy.
He forced himself to focus on more practical matters. Pulling away from her, he took hold of her hand and led her back to her bed. "Have you been up long?"
"Most of the night," she admitted. "So was the baby. He just went back to sleep."
"Dr. Simpson wants you to try to feed him every hour or so. Is he nursing yet?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Do you think he got enough milk?"
"Yes," she answered. "He kept it down too."
She sounded proud of her accomplishment, yet also shy about it. He caught her looking up at him, shared a smile, and then told her to go to sleep.
"Couldn't I help you unload the supplies?"
"No."
"Oh, I almost forgot. I fixed your breakfast. It's on the counter."
"I'll eat after I've put everything away and taken care of Brutus."
"Did you remember to leave money for Mr. Cooper? I've never stolen anything in my life, and I'm not about to start now."
"I left exactly what he deserved."
Technically he hadn't lied to her. He hadn't told her the truth either, yet he didn't feel guilty about it. He had left Vernon Cooper what he owed him, which was nothing, not a single penny. Cooper had turned his back on Isabel and joined ranks with Boyle, and as far as Douglas was concerned, Vernon and his brother, Jasper, the disreputable telegraph man, should be run out of town. Only then would they get what they really deserved.
Isabel was too excited to sleep, but she pretended to do just that so Douglas would bring in the supplies. Her excitement increased each time she heard him come back inside. She kept count by how often the floorboard in front of the hearth squeaked. Twelve wonderful times she heard the creaking sound, and that meant six trips to the kitchen and six trips back to the buggy. Were his arms filled, or was he carrying in one bag at a time?
Waiting was blissfully excruciating. Finally, she heard the buggy being driven back to the barn, and she couldn't bear the suspense another second. She threw the covers off, put on her robe and her slippers, and tiptoed into the living room.
She let out a gasp of joy then, for the table and four chairs were stacked high with bags, and there were more on the floor as well. She ran to the table and gasped once again when she saw a large crock of butter, real butter, and another crock filled with coffee. Her fingertips caressed each and every bag, and everywhere she turned, she saw something even more wonderful to cry about. There was beef jerky and ham and bacon and four giant pickles wrapped in white paper. Pickle juice was dripping onto the tablecloth, and she thought that was a most beautiful sight, indeed. She glanced up and saw Douglas watching her. He was standing in the door, and in his arm was yet another bag. She wondered what he was thinking. He had the strangest look on his face, as though he didn't know what to make of the sight, but there was such tenderness in his eyes, she knew she didn't need to worry that he might be angry with her for getting out of bed.
"I didn't know you were there," she said.
"I was watching you. You remind me of a little girl on Christmas morning." His voice was filled with compassion. How long had she gone without the basic necessities every man and woman were entitled to, he wondered, and did she realize she was hugging a bag of flour? Or that she was crying?
"There's more on the counter."
"More?" she cried out.
It seemed to be too much for her to take in. She stood there frozen with the flour wrapped tight in her arms and stared down at her treasures on the table.
"Come and see," he suggested.
She didn't put the flour down but carried it with her to the alcove. He reached up to push the floor-length drape further to one side on the rope and tried to step back so she could see inside. The kitchen was too narrow for both of them, but she wouldn't give him time to get out of her way. She squeezed herself past him.
Then she gasped yet again. "Salt and pepper and cinnamon and… oh, Douglas, could we afford all this?"
She was pressed against him with her face turned up to his. A man could get lost in those beautiful freckles and incredible golden brown eyes.
"Could we?" she asked again in a breathless whisper.
The question jarred him out of his fantasy. "Could we what?"
"Afford all this."
"Yeah," he drawled out. "Cooper was having a sale." He managed to tell the lie without laughing.
"Oh, that was nice."
They kept staring at each other. He reached over and slowly wiped away the tears from her cheeks with his fingers.
She surprised him by leaning up on tiptoes and kissing him.
"What was that for?"
"Being so good to me and my son. I'm sure I'll get my strength back real soon. I've never really depended on anyone before, not ever. It's very nice though. Thank you." She turned to leave. He followed her, reached over her shoulder, and took the bag of flour away. "What about your husband? Didn't you depend on him every once in a while?"
"Parker had fine qualities. I'm sorry you didn't know him. I'm certain you would have liked him. He really was a good man, Douglas. Good night."
He watched her walk away. She hadn't answered his question, and he wasn't certain if it had been a deliberate evasion or not. He decided he was too tired to ask her again. He went back to the barn to dry down his sorrel, then used a clean bucket of rainwater to give himself a good scrubbing before he finally headed to bed.
He slept most of the day away on his bedroll in front of the hearth. Parker eventually jarred him awake with a bellow guaranteed to make his mama snap to attention. His cry wasn't at all puny, but forceful. Was the infant already getting stronger?
Isabel's laughter rang out. She was in the kitchen giving Parker his first full bath. Douglas joined her. "He's louder today," he remarked with a yawn.
"He's angry."
Douglas noticed the baby was shivering and remembered Dr. Simpson's advice to keep him as warm as possible. "I should have kept the fire in the hearth going."
"You needed to sleep."
"Are you about finished? I don't want the baby to get cold."
Her full attention was centered on Parker. "There, he's clean again. Hush now," she crooned to the baby. "It's all over. Douglas, will you grab that towel for me?" He hurried to do as she asked. He spread the towel over his bare shoulder, reached for Parker, and laid him up against it. Isabel used another towel to pat him dry. A minute later she was securing his diaper when Douglas noticed Parker's lips were turning blue.
"We have to get him warm quick. Unbutton your robe and your gown." She didn't hesitate. "He feels like ice," she whispered in alarm. "I shouldn't have bathed him. He's so cold, he can't even cry now."
"He'll be warm in a minute," he promised. He wrapped the gown and the robe around her, draped a clean diaper over Parker's fuzzy black head, and stood there frowning down at him. "Tell me when he stops shivering."
She was afraid to move. "It's all my fault. What was I thinking?"
"That your son was rank," he told her. "Next time, we'll bathe him together in front of the fire."
"He stopped."
"Shivering?"
"Yes. I think he's asleep." She let out a happy little sigh. Douglas lifted the diaper away from Parker's head to see his face. "Yeah, he's sleeping," he whispered. And his face was pressed against freckles. "He's a lucky man."
"Little man," she corrected. She blushed as she looked up at Douglas. "Yes, he is lucky, and so am I to have you here."
"You aren't going to cry, are you?"
"Oh, I never cry."
He thought she was joking, but she didn't laugh.
"It's very difficult for me to show any emotions. Haven't you noticed?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Could you do a favor for me? A couple of the chairs have wobbly legs, and I'd appreciate it if you would show me how to fix them. I'm not sure if I should nail the legs to the base or if I should—"
"I'll fix them," he promised. "Anything else?" It turned out she had quite a list of repairs she needed. Although it was foolish for him to fix furniture that she wasn't going to be able to take with her when she left, he decided to do the repairs anyway. He wouldn't discuss the future with her yet, purposely waiting until she was stronger and less emotional, for even he could see that childbirth had left her physically and mentally exhausted. Dr. Simpson had told him she shouldn't get upset. Besides, the chores would keep him busy.
"Are Boyle's men watching the cabin?" she asked.
"They weren't last night, but they could have moved closer by now. I'm not going to take the chance. The doctor suggested I stay hidden during the day and work at night, but I had already decided to do just that. As long as Boyle believes you're all alone, he'll hopefully be content to wait."
"What about the horses? They can't stay cooped inside the barn all the time."
"I'll exercise them during the night. I'll start rebuilding the corral as soon as it's dark. Stop worrying."
"What can I do to help?"
"Get stronger."
She would have argued with him if Parker hadn't demanded her attention. Cooking wasn't one of Douglas's talents, and so he sliced the ham and bread Trudy Simpson had sent, and opened a jar of pickled beets he'd stolen from the general store. He gave Isabel a full glass of milk. She wanted to save it and would have insisted if he hadn't told her he could easily get more. She returned to the main room an hour later with Parker up against her shoulder and watched Douglas repair a chair while she paced with the fretful baby. Douglas noticed how exhausted she looked and decided to leave the other chairs until tomorrow night. He washed his hands and then took the baby from her.
"I'll walk with him."
"I don't know what's wrong with him. He's been fed and changed and burped, but he still won't go to sleep."
"He's just being ornery."
She started to turn away, then changed her mind. "I'll sit up with you and—"
"You don't need to," he said. "If I get into trouble, I know where to find you."
"You're certain nothing's wrong with him?"
"I'm certain."
"Good night then."
Douglas sat down in the rocker and began to gently pat the baby's back. He remembered how he used to rock his sister, and Lord, how fast time had moved. Soon now Mary Rose would be rocking her own son or daughter. Douglas used to talk things over with his sister while he rocked her, and he did the same thing now with Parker. The vibration of his voice had calmed Mary Rose, or bored her, into sleep. The reason really didn't matter; the result was always the same. Parker settled down within minutes and was snoring like an old man.
It was dark now and time for Douglas to get some work done. He braced himself for the anger he would feel the second he stepped out the door. Sure as certain, he got mad, because he was again reminded that the cabin was sitting in the center of the flood line. He couldn't seem to move past that appalling realization. It didn't matter to him that her dead husband might not have built the cabin, or that he might have moved his pregnant wife into the quarters as a temporary home while he built a cabin on higher ground. The man had still put Isabel in danger. Why in God's name had he done it? Didn't he care?
Grant's incompetence didn't stop there. He'd built a corral—at least that was what Douglas thought it was supposed to be—but apparently the first strong wind had knocked half of it down. He was pretty certain Pegasus had sustained his leg injury by accidentally brushing up against one of its exposed nails. If that was true, the risk of serious infection increased considerably. Douglas had to find out as soon as possible, so that he could change the salve he was applying to Pegasus if he needed to, but he decided to wait until morning and let Isabel get as much sleep as possible.