Whirlwind Wedding (11 page)

Miguel glanced past the horses and around the yard. “Is Andrew here? His sister said he was.”

“Were y'all supposed to meet him here?”

“Nah. We found his lunch pail—”

“He forgot it at school,” Miguel finished.

“We figured we'd bring it to him and see if he could go crawdad fishing with us,” Creed said.

“He already left. He mentioned something about going to town.”

“Okay, thanks,” Miguel said, as the boys trotted off. “Nice to meet you, Ranger.”

Jericho lifted a hand and waved goodbye. Well, well. If Andrew wasn't meeting his two friends as he'd said, was he meeting someone else? If so, where?

Jericho needed to follow the kid, but with his lame leg, he'd make more noise than a stampede. He cursed. Just a few more days and he'd be able to trail the boy if necessary. In the meantime, he'd take care not to spook him.

He suspected Andrew had gone to meet the McDougals, but it was gut instinct more than anything solid. Right now he couldn't prove it. All he could do was put a subtle pressure on the kid, and he intended to do just that.

Jericho had his chance a few hours later. He was sitting on Catherine's bed, trying to clean his gun left-handed, when she called him to supper. She barely looked at him and even then a deep pink suffused her cheeks. Her embarrassment fired an urge in him to try and erase the tension between them. But he wouldn't.

He hobbled to the table and glanced out to see Andrew at the pump. “I'll be back. Need to wash up first.”

“All right.” Catherine opened the stove door.

As Andrew dried his face, Jericho carefully made his way down the porch steps. Sweat dampened his neck by the time he stopped beside the kid.

Andrew looked up from the towel. “Hey! How'd you sneak up on me?”

“I wasn't trying to. Just came to wash up.” He gave the
pump handle two strong yanks and cupped his hand under the water to splash it on his face.

When Andrew handed him the towel and turned to go, Jericho blotted his face. “Did you win today?”

“Huh?” The kid turned, squinting through the glare of the setting sun.

“At checkers.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He started into the house.

Jericho said easily, “Don't see how you could've since your friends were out here looking for you.”

The boy froze and Jericho limped a step closer. “You weren't with them, were you?”

Guilt shone clearly on his face and then he stuttered, “Yes, I—I was.”

“You may not answer to me,” Jericho said lightly. “But you do answer to your sister. It will kill her if something happens to you.”

“Nothing's gonna happen,” Andrew said defiantly. “Are you gonna blab this to her?”

He noted all the color had leached out of the lad's freckled face. If Jericho told Catherine about Andrew's lie, she'd probably nail the boy's window shut as she'd threatened to do. That wouldn't suit Jericho's purposes. But he didn't want the kid to think there was no danger, either.

“Don't go searchin' for trouble, boy. There's no call for you to worry your sister like this.”

He looked ashamed for a moment. “I'm fine. I keep trying to tell her I can take care of myself.”

“She's concerned about the outlaws. They're around here somewhere.”

Andrew stilled. “Has someone seen them?”

“There are signs. Using a little caution would be good. These men are murderers. They wouldn't hesitate to shoot you.”

Andrew didn't speak, but Jericho could see his mind working.

The kid hesitated as if considering something, then he shrugged. “I'll be fine.”

“Just watch yourself,” Jericho warned.
Because I'll sure be watching you.

He followed Andrew into the house, fingering the cartridge in his pocket. As they sat down to eat, Jericho fully expected Catherine to confront her brother about the lie he'd told today. She had to know about it. She'd been the one to speak first to Andrew's friends when they came to the house.

But she said nothing, not during dinner and not afterward. Why not? Was it because she knew exactly where Andrew had really been?

C
atherine fretted all night. She had given up hope of ever finding a man whose touch didn't make her freeze up. She thought Jericho might be that man, but instead of finding out, she had run like a scared rabbit. She didn't know what to do about him. Or the exchange she had witnessed between him and Andrew at the pump. She hadn't been able to hear their conversation, but Jericho had looked stern. And it wasn't until Andrew turned for the house that she saw equal parts fear and anger on his face. Something had happened between them. What?

She knew her brother had lied yesterday about being with his friends. Did Jericho know, too? Maybe so, but Andrew wasn't Jericho's responsibility. He was hers. And it was Andrew Catherine was concerned with the next morning as he rushed out of his room, stomping into his shoes and finger-combing his hair.

The day was starting out with pale gray skies and the promise of rain. According to Jericho, it would pass. Whirlwind and these parts didn't get much rain going into summer.

He sat on the porch in the chair he'd used yesterday, only one shoulder and the white bandage on his arm visible.
Catherine had seen him lay his gun on the table, and she wondered what he was doing.

Andrew grabbed his books, bound together with a leather strap, and raced out without his lunch pail. She picked it up from the place next to the pantry where she'd hidden it. Stepping outside, she asked Jericho, “Will you be all right for a few minutes?”

Curving his hand around the revolver, he glanced at her, then at her brother. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Andrew,” she called.

Her brother turned around, saw the lunch pail she held and trotted back. She met him halfway.

When he tried to take it, she switched the pail to her other hand.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to talk to you.” She started toward town, her skirts swishing against grass that was a bright spring green. The prairie spread around them, mostly flat and dotted with the occasional mesquite tree or scrub oak. Patches of wildflowers flung color across the pasture as if splashed there by a paintbrush.

The two of them followed the slope of the land, cutting across a road and continuing through a field.

“I'm gonna be late for school,” Andrew stated.

“No, you won't.”

“C'mon, Catherine.” He jogged in front of her, walking backward as he reached again for the pail. His books thumped against his leg. “I can't be late today. We're having a spelling quiz.”

“Can you spell
lie?
”

He stumbled, then righted himself. “What?”

“I know you lied to me yesterday, Andrew. Again.”

His gaze flicked over her shoulder toward the house. To Jericho? She'd deal with that later. “Did you think I wouldn't
notice that your friends came by asking for you
after
you were supposed to be with them?”

“I'm sorry, okay? It didn't hurt anything.”

Frustration rose inside her. “The point is you lied. It's wrong, not to mention you could've gotten into trouble.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can't you lecture me when I get home?”

She came to a stop. “You listen to me. I'm tired of your lying and your sneaking around. I won't abide it anymore. From now on, I'll walk you to school and walk you home.”

He blinked as if he hadn't heard correctly. “Aw, what do you want to do that for? If you're worried about those outlaws, don't be—”

“I'm worried about
you.
If you can't be trusted to tell me the truth about something simple like playing with your friends, how can I trust that you're even going to school?”

“You can ask the teacher!”

He slung his book strap over his shoulder and picked up his pace. Catherine's own steps were brisk as she followed. The town was stirring to life as businesses opened. Greetings were called back and forth, doors opened, shades lifted. Horses clopped down Main Street, some stopping in front of the schoolhouse.

Andrew shot a desperate look toward the white clapboard school. In groups of two and three, children made their way toward the building, which also served as Whirlwind's church. The clang of ringing hammers sounded from the opposite end of town, where a new saloon was being built.

“I don't need anybody walking to school with me,” her brother said hotly.

“Evidently you do.”

“Everybody's gonna call me a sissy if you show up with me.”

“I'm sorry if you'll be embarrassed, but I'm at my wit's end. I've tried reasoning with you, threatening you, bribing
you. Maybe my walking you to and from school every day will work.”

At the bottom of the slope, still yards away from the school, he stopped dead in his tracks. “I'm not going there with you holding my hand.”

“I'm hardly doing that.”

“It's just as bad.”

“Maybe you'll think twice about lying from now on.”

“You're not Ma.” His chin jutted out and his eyes blazed brightly. “And I don't want you here.”

“Do you think I like chasing you around? Never knowing where you are?” Her temper snapped. “Cooking and cleaning for a kid who hates me?”

He looked taken aback. “I don't hate you,” he mumbled.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to breathe past her anger. “I know I'm not Mother. I'm sorry she's gone. Don't you think I miss her, too?”

They hadn't discussed their mother since Catherine had arrived.

“You weren't here when she got sick,” he accused, his voice quivering. “Or when she died.”

“No, I wasn't.” Catherine swallowed the tears burning her throat. She wanted to reach out, but knew her touch wouldn't be welcome. “I had no way of knowing she was ill until it was too late, and I didn't want to go against her wishes that I stay in New York until she sent for me. Now I wish I had. I'll have to live with that regret for the rest of my life.”

He eyed her uncertainly.

“But my being away doesn't mean that I didn't love her. Or you. She wrote me letters telling me everything about you. We have to help each other through this, Andrew.”

“It won't help me for you to walk me to school like a baby.”

She thought about giving in, but couldn't. “I don't like it, either. I have plenty of other things to keep me busy, but until we establish some trust, that's how it's going to be.”

He threw another anxious look toward the school. Catherine saw two figures—boys—standing beside the building, waiting. Watching them. A slender man came out on the landing and rang the bell.

“I've only got five minutes, Catherine. How about if you leave me off right here? You can watch me go in.” He grabbed at his lunch pail.

“No.” She held it out of reach. “You won't get this until I see you to the front door. Every day.”

“Well, I won't do it!” He dropped his books and bolted, heading behind the schoolhouse.

Purely on reflex, Catherine darted after him. She lunged and caught him by the back of his shirt. Clutching a handful of fabric, she yanked hard, slowing him enough that she was able to reach out and clasp his arm. “No, sir. You are going to school and you are going with me.”

“You're gonna tear my shirt.” He wiggled and twisted, trying to escape her grasp.

She grabbed him by the ear. “Then you can mend it.”

“Ouch!” He glared up at her. “I don't know how to sew.”

“If you try running again, I'll make you learn how.”

He looked horrified. In the instant he took to absorb that, she started for the school, towing him behind. After letting him pick up his books, she marched him to the bottom of the steps and said, loudly enough that the young man waiting in the doorway could hear her, “I'll be back to get you this afternoon. I'll wait over by the hotel.”

Andrew's face flushed with anger.

“But if you pull another stunt, I'll come inside with you from now on. And stay. I'm sure you don't want that.”

“What if I'd gotten away?” he challenged. “What would you have done?”

“Taken your lunch home with me. And sent the sheriff to find you.” She hoped he believed the bluff. In truth, she would've panicked. She still might.

He rubbed his ear, looking sullen. “You're really gonna make me go hungry unless you walk me to the school door?”

“That's right.”

“That's about the meanest thing I've ever heard.” He stomped up two steps and turned.

She handed him the pail. “Remember what I said. Go on now, before you really are late.”

The teacher, a young man about Catherine's age, put a hand on Andrew's shoulder as he walked inside, then turned to her. “You must be Andrew's sister.”

“Yes. I'm Catherine Donnelly.” She climbed the steps to shake his hand.

“I'm John Tucker.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Anything I should know?”

“I'm sorry if we caused a commotion. We're having a little trouble, er, coming to terms. If he doesn't behave, please let me know. We live in the house up the slope away from town.”

John's hazel eyes were kind. “He's usually good as gold.”

“I hope he is today.”

She waited until Mr. Tucker closed the door before she left. Anger propelled her home with long angry strides. The little dickens. She wanted to tan him good, but knew she wouldn't be able to do it. That's why she had thought this might be a good idea. Now she wasn't sure.

What if he didn't come home tonight? What if he didn't come home tomorrow? What was to prevent him from taking off at the noon break or after school? What had she done?

As she neared the house, she saw Jericho sitting where
she'd left him. She tried to calm herself before she reached the porch. He held his gun in his left hand, aimed toward her.

Looking into the gun's barrel, Catherine found her steps faltering.

He quickly put down the weapon. “Everything all right?”

“Yes.” No. But she wasn't about to bare all to him. Emotion seethed inside her, from anger to uncertainty to sympathy for what her brother had suffered alone. “I'll get the liniment if you're ready to work on your wrist.”

“Okay.”

Questions were plain in his eyes, but she walked on into the house and retrieved the bottle from the cupboard. If he thought it odd that she wanted to do his treatment this morning instead of in the afternoon, he said nothing about it.

Jericho had situated her chair facing his, and she sat. He pushed his sleeve up to his elbow, watching her closely. She briskly placed his arm on the table.

Then, irritated and flustered, she stood, her hands on her hips. “Did you know he lied about being with his friends yesterday?”

Jericho warily eased his chair away from her a bit. “I put that together, yeah.”

“Why didn't you say anything to me?”

“Well, I didn't think I should be getting into your business.”

She leveled a look at him. “You're already in it. I saw the two of you outside last night. Were you talking about his lie?”

Jericho's silver eyes hardened to hammered steel. “Yes.”

“He looked scared to death. What did you say?”

“I warned him about the outlaws.” He held her gaze, but she saw secrets in his eyes. She practically felt them. “And told him to stop worrying you so much.”

Taken aback, she felt her anger ebb. “You did?”

“Yeah.” He eyed her cautiously. “What did
you
say to him?”

She relayed that part of the conversation.

A smile touched Jericho's lips. “You walk him to school or he doesn't get lunch?”

“Yes.” She paced to the edge of the porch, then back. “What if I did the wrong thing?”

“I think it's pretty smart, Catherine. It would sure have worked on me. A full belly is pretty important to a twelve-year-old boy.”

She sank into her chair and uncorked the liniment bottle. “Where do you think he goes? What does he do?”

Jericho's gaze settled on her watchfully, but he didn't answer.

Pouring ointment into her hands, she began massaging his arm. The steady motion soothed her somewhat, calmed her ire enough for the fear to creep through. “I thought after a while he would accept me being here, but he hasn't. What if I go to get him this afternoon and he isn't there?”

Jericho took so long in answering that she looked up. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't burden you—”

“It's no burden. If he wanted to leave, I think he would've already done it.”

“I hope you're right.”

He put his good hand over both of hers. “Tell you what. If you want, I'll go to town and check on him.”

“No! You're still recovering. In fact, you probably need to rest right now, and I'm prattling on.”

“If I don't start using these legs, they're going to wither away.”

“No. Thank you, but no.”

“I can work on my hand if you want to go yourself.”

“I don't know.” Should she give her brother a chance? See if he was willing to fall in line with her? She had no one to ask for advice. All she could do was what felt right. “The next move is his. I'll wait until after school and see what it's going to be.”

“I think that's wise.”

She smiled at Jericho, only then realizing his hand still covered hers. His skin was callused, his fingers long and elegant. She wanted to turn her arm over and press her palm to his.

As if he realized they were still touching, he removed his hand and reached down to scoot his chair closer to the table. She stifled her disappointment.

“Thank you.” She smiled, and tried not to react when he gave her a lazy grin in return. “Could I ask you to please keep this just between us?”

“Of course.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You're not gonna cut off
my
food, are you?”