6

He rose in the dark on the fifth day of Cole’s struggle. The silence in the house nearly rang in Justin’s ears. More so than usual. The night was pitch black. As he did multiple times each night, Justin threw back the covers, pulled on pants and a shirt over his woolen underwear, and hurried down to check on his brother.

As Justin padded down the stairs, he thought of plenty to worry about. Cole wasn’t drinking enough water, wasn’t eating enough food. He rarely woke, and when he did, he was out of his head, raving and tossing around until they all hoped he’d slump back into unconsciousness to avoid hurting himself.

Today the fever raged higher than ever. Cole had lost weight, and his cheeks were hollow. Deep shadows made his eyes seem sunken and bruised until he looked like he’d lost a fistfight.

Every time Justin went into that room he expected the worst.

Now he watched his hands shake as he reached for the doorknob, but he couldn’t stand to wait until he gathered his nerve. He shoved the door open, half expecting to see his brother had died.

Angie slept, sitting in a chair, her head cradled in her folded arms, resting on the mattress. Cole’s hand rested in her madly curling hair. His eyes open, studying Angie as if she were his own personal guardian angel.

Then Cole’s gaze shifted. He focused on Justin and smiled. Really fully smiled.

“Cole!”

Angie’s head shot up, terror etched on her face as if she feared the worst, too. And then all the terror melted away and she smiled, the biggest smile Justin had seen since she moved to Skull Gulch a few weeks back. Her life before, back in Omaha, had been a grim business, or so it seemed.

“The fever broke.” Cole sounded weak, yet he was making sense and his eyes were bright with his usual intelligence. His hair was soaking wet, lines of sweat trickling down his face. He’d been flushed from the fever for days. Now the hectic color had returned to a much more normal shade.

Angie stood. “It happened a while ago. Cole got some water down. We talked a bit and I—I guess I fell asleep. Drink some more water, please.”

She had a cup and pitcher close to hand. Cole was lying flat, so Justin came up, slid one arm under Cole’s shoulders, and raised his head. He drank the full cup and asked for more.

With a delighted smile, Angie poured. Cole finished about half of it.

“I’m going to stir the coals in the kitchen stove and heat a bowl of broth for you. While it warms I can start breakfast. We need to rebuild your strength.” Angie rushed around the bed, past Justin and out toward the kitchen.

Justin lowered Cole to the bed. “You’ve given us a long worrisome week, big brother. It’s about time you left off being sickly.”

Cole flinched as he settled back onto the bed. He reached for the bandage at his waist. “If you call this getting better, I’m glad I slept through a week of it.”

Justin wanted to do something to make Cole more comfortable. He wanted it so bad that it stopped him. If he was too nice, Cole would know just how sick he’d been.

“Tell me what I’ve missed.” Cole trying to take charge, even from a sickbed while he was flat on his back.

Justin talked about the letter Heath had found on Dantalion. “Someone paid him.”

“There’s a conspiracy against us, and they don’t seem to care who they kill, so they must be gunning for all of us. Is the man you hauled to jail saying anything?”

“Nope. He must’ve given us a phony name too because we can’t figure out who he is. Sheriff Dunn is looking through wanted posters. Heath got him to as good as confess, though. So that’s enough to hold him, just not enough to find out who hired him.”

They discussed the troubles until the food came. Justin couldn’t believe how nice it was to talk to his brother again. He’d talked things over with Heath and Sadie, and they’d come up with few answers. Cole wasn’t much help, at least not right now. Even so, it felt good.

Justin decided then and there he was going to stop threatening to punch Cole every time he got irritated. The two of them had been squabbling since they were boys. Justin thought it might be time to set that aside.

But needling Cole was one of his favorite things. Maybe he should cut back slowly instead of just stopping all at once.

The night sky was being pushed back to the cold light of dawn. It was bright enough they’d doused the lantern when Heath came in. He took one look at Cole and smiled.

“Good to see you awake, Cole.” Heath came close, his blue eyes flashed until Justin could swear lightning struck from behind them. Justin, Cole, and Heath discussed their troubles some more.

It was fully dawn when Sadie came in, saw Cole awake and talking, and burst into tears.

That was Justin’s chance to break up their talk. He squared his shoulders and blew out a breath. With his brother on the mend now, finally Justin could think about something besides hanging on to Cole’s life for all he was worth. “I’ve never questioned Ramone like I should. And Miss Maria is there with him and Alonzo, though he’s been working as much as he can.”

Alonzo was the ranch ramrod, second in charge only to John Hightree, the foreman. But Alonzo’s pa, Ramone, was in great need.

“You want company?” Heath pulled Sadie into his arms. She mopped her eyes and held on tight for a few seconds, but soon enough she went to fussing over Cole again.

“I do,” Justin said, “but I’m wondering if you’re the one for the job. I think he might relax more if I brought one of the women instead.”

“I’ll go.” Sadie looked back at Cole as if she were scared to leave, scared to do anything that might put Cole back to sleep.

“That’d be fine, but let me ask Rosita first. She speaks Mexican real well. I want someone there to catch anything that passes between the family—anything, I mean, that’s meant to leave me out. And she remembers things from the old days. I’d like her to hear what Ramone has to say.”

“Rosita is in the kitchen.” Angie came in with a bowl of broth. “Sadie, if you don’t mind feeding Cole, I’ll see to breakfast so Rosita can go along with Justin.”

Justin walked with Angie back to the kitchen. She had a mysterious upward tilt to her lips, and Justin couldn’t help but ask, “What’s making you smile?”

“I’m just so relieved and happy that Cole’s getting better.” She smiled again. “I am so tired—we all are. But none of that mattered when his fever was so high. Now I feel like I could melt into a heap on the floor and just sleep for days.”

“I feel it, too. Even when I slept I was tormented with nightmares, mainly about planning my brother’s funeral.” Justin shook his head. “I should’ve known Cole was too ornery to die. I should have trusted him.”

They shared another smile, one of the most harmonious moments since they’d met. Then they reached the kitchen to find Rosita sliding a large beef roast into the oven. She was singing a hymn quietly to herself, just as happy as the rest of them.

“Rosita, I need some help.”

She turned, looking about ten years younger than she had last night. “Whatever you need.”

He couldn’t resist walking right up to her and hugging her long and hard. “There, I needed a hug. Now I can go back to being a pest like always.”

Rosita gave him a teasing slap on his arm.

“I want to go talk to Ramone.”

The smile faded, but she kept the sparkle in her eyes. “And you want me to . . . make him a tray of food?”

Justin shook his head. “You’re not getting off that easily. I want you to come with me. Ramone, Alonzo, and Maria are all staying in Alonzo’s cabin. I want to ask them more about everything, and I want a woman with me, hoping that will soften my questioning some. And you speak their language well enough they can’t discuss answers right in front of me before they give me an answer that might not be the full truth.”

Rosita reached for the ties in back of her apron.

“I’ll take over in the kitchen, Rosita,” Angie offered. “Sadie and Heath are watching over Cole. I’ll get breakfast to them.”

“Umm . . . a simple breakfast.” Rosita stopped untying and gave Justin a nervous glance.

He wasn’t sure why.

“Yes, very simple. And I’ll cook it slow so nothing burns.”

“Thank you, little señorita.” Rosita lay a strong, callused hand on Angie’s cheek. Angie had made food earlier, but it was only broth.

Angie smiled back with genuine gratitude. Justin saw how she soaked up kindness like it was water and she’d been living in a desert for years.

Justin ran upstairs to dress proper and get his winter coat. He came back down to find Rosita in a heavy shawl, a woolen bonnet on her head, ready to head out. She had a plate in hand with a cloth covering something.

“Biscuits. Let’s begin in a sociable way. You can always change tactics.”

“Sounds wise. Let’s try to keep this friendly.” As soon as they walked a few feet from the house, Justin glanced behind him and said, “What was that about cooking slow?”

Rosita gave him a knowing smile. “Our pretty Angie isn’t an experienced cook. She says Sister Margaret is working with her. And now I am, but the ways of a cast-iron stove are strange to her. She seems to have done only simple cooking in her life and has no real training.”

“A woman who can’t cook? I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of that before.” Justin glanced back again, more in fear this time than worry he’d be overheard.

Before he could think of another question to ask, they reached the ramrod’s cabin. Justin knocked on the door. He was struck by how much time had passed since the attack—a full week. And with Cole so sick, Justin barely thought about what all needed to be done to ensure their safety.

Now it slapped at him like whipping oak branches.

Alonzo opened the door, saw them, and a wary look crossed his face. Justin wondered what it meant and immediately found himself on edge.

“Come on in, boss.”