West Winds of Wyoming (16 page)

Charlie turned and appraised her. This statement, along with the ones about Georgia having a sense of humor and horses being confident, puzzled him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Partly. But, I do feel a difference in him when I bring him up here. He definitely likes it. It’s just something I know. I can’t explain, or give you a reason to accept what I’m saying. You’d be amazed to know how much horses really want to serve, to be of use. I’m not just talking about being ridden or pulling a wagon or stage, but to heal what ails you. They have enormous hearts.”

Charlie chuckled again, not knowing what to make of Nell’s statement. It sounded crazier than a cat in a field of catnip. “And Georgia? You can tell what she’s feeling?”

“I can.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s she thinking now?”

Nell looked down at his mare as the animal gazed out over the open land below. A light wind moved her reddish-brown mane, and her hind hoof was cocked. Nell reached over and patted Georgia’s neck.

“Anyone could tell you she’s calm and relaxed by reading her head set, the position of her ears and her cocked hip, and they’d be correct,” Nell said. “But actually, she’s missing something right now. I’m not sure if her memory is of a previous owner, or perhaps an offspring of hers. I don’t know. All I know is she has a powerful longing for something in her past.”

Charlie let his defiance go and dropped his crossed arms. He remembered back to the day when he’d finally ridden out of Wilsonville. In an attempt to cover his progress from anyone who might try to follow him, he’d ridden his mount hard. When he’d arrived in Grand Junction, Colorado, he sold his gelding to the first ranch he’d come upon. At first, he’d tried to simply trade animals, but the rancher refused, saying their only saddle horse available, Georgia, belonged to his young daughter, and he didn’t have the heart to trade her. That’s when Charlie had thrown a bundle of cash into the deal. The owner would have been a fool to refuse. Charlie hadn’t given the horse deal much thought at the time with Grover Galante and Maddie on his mind, but now he recalled the rancher saying his daughter had raised and trained Georgia. That she’d be heartbroken when she found out. Could Georgia actually be missing her? The idea of that seemed outlandish, to say the least. Still, the possibility brought a lump to his throat.

“That’s, uh, some statement, Nell.” He looked over to find her lost in her own contemplations. “I’m not too sure what I should make of it. I mean animals, thinking and feeling, just like people?”

Her smile whispered acknowledgment of being different. Sadness. Perhaps, because of her beliefs, being an outcast of sorts.

“At first, Seth thought my knowing about the animals was a figment of my imagination. I know what I’m saying sounds crazy. It started when I was about six. Instinctively, I knew not to say anything about it. Keep it to myself.”

She gazed out over the canyon. “When Dog showed up on our porch, he was half-starved. When I opened the door, he practically vaulted into my arms. A vision of fire, water, smoke and a boat filled my mind. I believe he and his owner were separated by a fire somehow, maybe on a boat while traveling on one of the big rivers. After being lost, he set out cross-country in search of his master. He was exhausted when he arrived. And he’s stayed with us ever since.”

Charlie let his gaze roam over to the top of Coyote’s head and then to Georgia’s. Animals with rational feelings and thoughts? That was something he’d have to ponder for more than just a few moments. He could feel Nell’s inquisitive gaze. She was waiting for his response. Problem was, he didn’t know what to say.

When a minute passed without him responding, she reined around. “We’d better get back. It’ll be dark before we reach the horse pasture.”

“Sure.”

She started off and he fell in alongside. “What are the plans for tomorrow?”

“Like Seth mentioned, we take Sunday off if it’s not calving or foaling season. Nothing much to do besides start the new horses, but we’ll wait for Monday to do that.”

“Well then, if you’re sure you won’t need me, I think I’ll go into town. Spend a few hours getting the feel of the place. Meet a few more people.”
Make sure I wasn’t followed.
He couldn’t stop a smile.
And perhaps catch a glimpse of Maddie while I’m there.

Her eyes narrowed, and her lips flattened out.

“If you’re sure I’m not needed at the ranch, that is.”

“No. Not at all.”

“I’ll take some mending in, just a shirt and—”

“I can mend for you, Charlie. I don’t mind. Just because I dress like a man doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about being a woman.”

“I couldn’t ask my employer to mend my shirt and darn a few pairs of raggedy ol’ socks,” he said gently, trying to figure out why she’d offer such a thing. “I’m thankful for this job and plan to keep it. I’ll just drop them by Brenna Lane’s house. I heard people talking that you could just leave them on her porch with a note.” He wanted to make sure Brenna had earnings to keep the children comfortable. Paying for her services was an easy way to do that.

“Suit yourself, Charlie.”

Nell looked away, but the rigidness of her posture told him she had a bee in her bonnet, and that was a fact. The only reason he could think of was his ride into town tomorrow, but why would that upset her? He knew better than to mention that the angrier she got, the prettier she looked.

When they came through the kitchen door, Seth called from the front room, “I cooked up a portion of a hindquarter after you left, Nell. Thought you two might be hungry when you got back. I left it on the drain board. I ate your fixings as well, though.”

Nell was sure Seth was slouched in his leather chair, with his feet stretched out on the stool.

Charlie preceded her into the front room.

Seth peered up from where he sat. “So, how was the ride, you two?”

The way he said “you two” garnered another glance from her.

Charlie just stood there looking conspicuous.

“A ride’s a ride.” She wondered if Charlie believed her about the horses. His teasing tone had turned thoughtful, making her believe he did, but he hadn’t said much either way. “We checked on the cattle.”

“I’m glad you rode out that way.” Seth had the same old newspaper from the other day crumpled in his lap. “By the way, have either of you been over by the creek lately? Found some tracks I didn’t recognize. Thought they might belong to Charlie’s mare.”

A black chill crackled trough Nell. Tracks? By the creek? She glanced over at Charlie, hoping beyond measure he’d say he’d gone that way at some point. It couldn’t have been today on his way home from Logan Meadows, because he was riding their black gelding then, and Seth would easily recognize his tracks.

Charlie’s face had lost its little-boy charm as he shook his head. “Not me, Seth. The only creek I crossed was when I rode with Nell out to the buffalo jump.”

“Hm.” Seth scratched his head. “Wonder who it was and what business they had.”

Instantly she thought of the stranger. Was he back? Had he ever left? When her gaze met Charlie’s, his eyes hooded before he snapped his gaze away. He pushed an unsteady hand through his hair, making her wonder.
He looks more nervous than I do. Is he hiding something, too?
If he was, she was sure it wasn’t in connection with the stranger. She’d never believe that. No, it was something else she couldn’t put her finger on—not yet, anyway.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

P
ounding on the door brought Brenna out of a sound sleep. She dragged her heavy eyelids open to a cold, dark bedroom. Confused, she blinked several times, trying to decide if she’d heard the knocking in her dream, or if the sound had been real. This was Sunday. Service wasn’t until ten o’clock. Certainly, the children weren’t up yet. Deciding she must have imagined the noise, she rolled over and pulled her covers up to her chin.

Knock knock knock.

This time Brenna sat up, quickly lit her bedside lantern then picked up her watch, working to focus her eyes—five-thirty in the morning?

“One minute, please,” she called toward the front of the house.
Who on earth could be at the door? Only dreadful news comes before dawn.

She fumbled around in the shadowy room. Finding her dress, she pulled the weighty garment over her head and haphazardly adjusted the pleats. She threw her shawl over her shoulders to hide the open buttons in the back. Finger combing her hair as she padded through her bedroom on bare feet, she worried all the way to the front door. Pulling it open, she stopped, stunned into silence.

Mr. Hutton stood between her door and the road, just inside her front gate. He must have knocked on her door, then retreated back ten feet when he’d heard her response. His bare feet protruded from his blanket covering, and he looked as if he’d fall over any moment.

“Mr. Hutton,” she gasped. “What’s wrong?”

She started toward him but he stopped her with an upheld palm. “Stay back, Mrs. Lane.” He swallowed, and swayed. His ghostly white face reflected the light of the moon.
What on earth.
“I’m sick. Came down with something in the middle of the night. I don’t want to expose you. I was wondering—”

Brenna hurried down the stairs and pushed past his open palm just as he tilted to the left. Wrapping one arm around his waist, she took a firm hold.

Heat radiated through the blanket. “Come, Mr. Hutton,” she said soothingly, alarmed over his high temperature. “Come along with me.” When she turned him around and inched slowly toward the gate, he didn’t protest. “You need to get back into bed where you belong.”

“No . . .” He tried to push her away but she was having none of it.

For a moment his eyes closed and he rocked back on his heels, almost taking Brenna with him. She fought to keep him upright while struggling to keep her dress and shawl on her shoulders. They passed through the narrow gate under a clear sky bursting with stars. They stepped onto the dirt road between the houses and Brenna’s bare foot came down on a sharp stone, the pain making her jerk. Mr. Hutton’s arm tightened around her waist, and when he turned to see what had happened his concerned gaze was overpowered by the feverish haze within. “Your ankle. You shouldn’t be walking on it.”

“My ankle feels fine. I just stepped on a small pebble. Keep going. We’re almost there.”

“Don’t want you to get sick,” he mumbled. “Only wondered if you’d go fetch the doctor for me—in an hour or two when the sun is up.”

“Of course I will. Just as soon as it’s light I’ll send Penny. But right now the only place for you is in your bed.”

They crossed the street and she helped him slowly take the steps to his porch. Pushing into the dark house, she noted the only light was a lantern burning in the bedroom. She stopped in the living room and let him catch his breath.

“Mrs. Lane, I’ll never forgive myself if you—”

“Hush.”

“—get sick,” he finished. “I wish you’d stayed at arm’s length, where you’d be safe.” He groaned. “And last evening, all that walking together. Surely you were exposed to whatever I have.”

“Shush, now, Mr. Hutton,” she said firmly. “You can put away your worries. With all the children I have, I’ve been exposed to almost everything under the sun, and then some. I’ll be fine. I nurse them, and I can nurse you as well.”

Propriety forbade her admittance to a single man’s bedroom, especially since they were alone, but there was no help for it. He must have picked up on her thoughts because as they approached his door he began peeling her arm from his side.

“I can take it from here, Mrs. Lane,” he croaked out. “Thank you. I’ll just—”

He coughed and wiped his forehead with his palm. Without warning, he went down on one knee, taking Brenna with him. Pain sliced up her leg when her kneecap connected with the wooden floor, pushed all the harder by his weight.

“Oh!” she cried out, but she instantly wanted to recall the word. She struggled, trying to stand and pull him up with her. Somehow, pushing, pulling and praying, she got him into the postage-stamp-size room, and helped him sit on the edge of his bed. She took his shoulders and guided him back. He pulled his feet up on his own and she covered him with the top sheet.