5

Angie wrung a cloth out and pressed it to Cole’s head. He didn’t have a fever so he didn’t really need cool cloths. But she was here and it seemed like the thing to do.

She’d just centered the cloth on his forehead when Justin came in with two slices of that delicious-looking pie. Angie hadn’t had pumpkin pie for years. When her father was alive, it’d been part of many holiday meals, but things had turned bad after he died. And Mother, worried about money, had let the servants go, and heaven knew Mother didn’t know how to bake a pie.

Angie was on the far side of the bed, and she watched Justin come around and offer her the dessert. It was all she could do not to start crying.

“Thank you.”

She’d never seen a man serve food before. She’d never really seen a man enter the kitchen. After her father died and her mother descended into useless bitterness at their reduced circumstances, Angie had done her best to cook for them. But there was no one to teach her, so what little food they had was simple. She often wondered if Mother would have let them both starve.

“Sit down for a bit. Have your pie. Cole is . . .” Justin’s word faded as he looked at his brother. He cleared his throat, and she realized he hadn’t quit talking on purpose. His voice had broken, as if he might be fighting tears.

There was no sign of such a thing, and she looked closely at his dark-blue eyes, so she was sure.

He loved his brother.

Angie found herself fighting tears, too. She stepped back to give Justin the privacy a strong man must need when dealing with such powerful emotions.

Sitting in the corner, she took a bite of pie.

Finally, Justin, with his back to her, said, “The doctor thinks he’s going to be all right if a fever doesn’t catch him. I’ve always heard a gunshot like this, in the stomach, is deadly. But Doc says this is far enough to the side it missed hitting anything important. He said getting shot in the liver or bowels or kidneys is what can’t be fixed and leads to death.”

Then Justin’s shoulders squared and he turned and gave Angie a hard look that made his eyes glitter. “He’s going to make it because I won’t settle for anything else.”

She wondered if he expected her to argue, because he looked ready to fight anyone who disagreed with him.

She had no desire to disagree. “Dr. Garner said his carbolic acid is very useful to fight off infections. He also cleaned the wound. Your Rosita did a very good job, although the doctor was afraid of threads from Cole’s shirt being lodged in the wound. He said when a bullet passes through fabric like that, it can happen. And a thread, or anything with dirt on it, can start an infection.”

She thought of the long, meticulous job the doctor had done, how much blood there was, the moments of Cole’s wakefulness and how much pain he was in, and how bravely he bore it.

Her husband had never had a brave, long-suffering moment in his life. And that was the last thought she was going to have about her marriage—for the rest of her life, if she could possibly arrange it.

“You said Heath was shot?”

Justin swallowed, then nodded. “A while back, by a man on top of that big mesa. Did you notice it when you rode in?”

“Skull Mesa. I’ve heard of it. The town is named for the place.”

“We heard an old Pueblo story about a woman kept by Don Bautista de Val, who used to be a partner in this ranch. He was a nasty old man according to my ma, who knew him a bit when she was a child. Don de Val was long gone by the time I was born. He had two children, Maria and Ramone, with his Pueblo mistress. That’s why Maria chose to tend him while you came here with the doctor. Finding the connection between them led us to Ramone.”

“I was with Sadie when Maria claimed Ramone as her brother.”

“Ramone worked at the ranch back in my grandfather’s time without saying a word about being the Don’s son. When Grandfather Chastain, my mother’s pa, was killed, Ramone disappeared and was known to have run for Mexico. He was suspected in the killing.”

“Maria believes in her brother’s innocence. She knew where he was and told us. If she thought he was guilty, don’t you think she’d have protected him?”

“We found him early this morning. He was in terrible shape, living in an old wreck of a house with little food, afraid to come out except at night because he knew he’d left here under a cloud of suspicion. We were bringing him home this morning when two men attacked us on the trail. That’s when Cole was shot. We managed to capture one man, while the other threw himself off a cliff rather than be taken prisoner.”

Angie gasped. “He killed himself?”

“Not deliberately. He was running into what looked like heavy woods. He dove off the trail through the trees and didn’t see the cliff. The man’s last words threatened that more trouble was coming, that he wasn’t acting alone. If you stay around here long, it’s possible you could come under their guns, Angie.” Justin frowned at her, worry in his eyes. “I don’t want to risk anyone else’s life.”

“Send everyone away, Justin.” The new voice, deep and shaky, drew Angie’s attention, and Justin leapt out of his chair. Cole was awake.

“How can we send everyone away, Cole? How? Are you saying we should abandon the ranch?”

Cole tossed his head fretfully, and the damp cloth slid away. Justin caught it and wet it again with cool water. He returned it with too much gentleness for such a rugged western man.

“I don’t know. But how can we stay?”

Justin knew something was wrong, because Cole didn’t have a lot of backup in him. He’d rather stand and face a fight than turn tail and run. And he figured the men at the ranch felt the same. Still puzzling over it, Justin adjusted the cloth on Cole’s head, and heat came through the rag almost instantly.

“You’re running a fever.” Justin’s voice was sharp. “Angie, get the doctor.”

She was out of her chair and calling for the doctor before Justin quit giving the order. There would be time to wonder about threats to the ranch later. Right now, caring for Cole and seeing him get well was all that mattered.

The ensuing battle for Cole’s life drove every other thought from Justin’s mind. Attempted murder, conspiracy, hired men with mysterious plans, cowhands who might be betrayers. Justin didn’t have time for any of it.

Sadie and Heath seemed to give up any idea of a honeymoon, even to the point of giving up private moments. They worked along with everyone else, bathing Cole with cool cloths, getting water down his throat, coaxing him to drink the willow-bark tea the doctor recommended for fever and the broth Rosita and Angie kept warm on the stove.

Rosita went nearly mad tempting Cole with the best sickroom food she could find. Mulled eggs and mashed fruit. Warm milk, rich with sugar and cinnamon, poured over bread. Angie watched and learned from her. It was clear Rosita loved Cole like her own child, as she did all the Bodens, and she seemed determined to hold him on this side of the Pearly Gates with the weapons of gentleness, good food, and relentless prayer. She worked day and night to lure him into sufficient wakefulness that he could swallow.

The doctor pretty much lived at the Cimarron Ranch. His steady presence had two very separate effects. Justin was glad the man was there and caring for Cole, but his constant vigilance seemed to announce to the world just how desperately ill Cole was. Doc Garner was summoned away for other patients a few times and had to go, but otherwise he was like a new member of the family. Angie was there all the time, helping the doctor when he was there and following the orders he left when he couldn’t be. Sadie and Heath were on hand too, so Cole was never alone, day or night.

Justin slept in short patches, haunted by dreams of his brother’s death that jerked him awake. He never sank into deep, restful sleep. His mind was too filled with how badly this could end.