Chapter 5

God was looking out for you two,” Anne said once she’d yanked the bullet from Colt’s thigh and wrapped clean bandages around his leg. “I know He was.” Clancy winced as she dabbed whiskey on his open flesh. “That hurts as bad as the bullet tearing across my shoulder.”

“Don’t complain,” Colt said. “You weren’t the one she dug into with a knife.”

Sammie Jo peered over her mama’s shoulder. “That looks real bad, Clancy. Makes me wonder if you and Colt might up and die on us. Daddy’s leg didn’t look any better than you two.”

“Sammie Jo.” Anne whirled around to face her daughter. “I thought I asked you to pray for these two men, not bring death knocking at our door.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Colt’s leg throbbed, but he managed a nervous chuckle. “Sammie Jo, are you afraid of anything?”

“No, sir.”

He studied her young face, so stubborn and innocent. “Life’s hard, Sammie Jo. One day you’ll find what you’re afraid of. When you do, face it.”

She frowned at him. Oh, that gal had a lot to learn.

“Sammie Jo, you run along and draw water for Rosita,” Anne said. “I need to talk to these men.”

Once the girl had left the bunkhouse, Anne turned her attention to doctoring Clancy.

“We didn’t see anyone,” Clancy said. “If it hadn’t been for Thatcher Lee, we’d have been as dead as Hank and Thomas.”

Anne studied Thatcher Lee. “Did you see them?”

“No, ma’am. They were like ghosts. I kept firing into the brush where the shots came from while Clancy and Colt crawled away.”

“I’m not sure what to think about this,” she said. “Those men need burying but not at the risk of getting our men shot.”

Colt squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to forget the pain in his leg. Drinking the rest of that bottle of whiskey was mighty tempting, but Anne didn’t permit drinking—for any reason.

Colt cleared his throat. “We need to keep our eyes open until this is settled. I wonder about Hank’s and Thomas’s enemies and why they didn’t take the cattle.” He wasn’t about to mention Will’s name with Thatcher Lee standing there.

“Maybe this will get the sheriff off his lazy backside and doing his job,” Clancy said. “We’ll see him tomorrow morning at church.”

“Neither of you is going to church.” Anne wrapped a clean bandage around his arm. She nodded at Colt. “You can snore right through the sermon.”

“And I don’t have to take a bath?” Colt grinned through the pain in his thigh. He found himself captured by her deep blue eyes.

Anne shook her head. “No, you can smell like a dirty barn for another week.”

“Good,” Clancy said. “I have the whole morning to preach to Colt. High time that man knew about Jesus.”

“No rest for a wounded man?” Colt asked.

Anne laughed. “You two can pester each other for the next week. Because neither of you can smell trouble, I’ve got to help the other hands.”

Clancy chuckled. “I love your kind heart.”

Colt fixed his gaze on her. Was she lingering a little on him? Or was it his imagination? Maybe he’d grown weak in the head with the bullet wound. But for now he’d enjoy Anne’s special treatment.

The seriousness of the situation hit him hard. Anne and those girls were in danger. He knew it as well as he knew his own name.

Anne left the two alone to go help Rosita with dinner. Colt glanced at Clancy. Without asking, Colt understood the old man felt the same way. And here they were shot up like two mangled coyotes.

“Are you still praying?” he asked Clancy.

The old man nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt for you to do the same thing.”

“I’m not ready for religion, but I’m glad you’re on speaking terms with God. I’m worried about Anne and the girls.”

Clancy nodded. “She likes you, Colt. I can see it in her eyes. She hasn’t looked at a man like that since Will.”

“Naw. She’s just glad I wasn’t killed today, and she doesn’t have to go looking for another ranch hand.”

But Colt wondered. He didn’t deserve as fine a woman as Anne. Neither did he deserve two spunky girls like Sammie Jo and Nancy. But the thought made him feel good—real good.

Anne tried to concentrate on helping Rosita with dinner. Instead, her thoughts raced with the shooting—Hank and Thomas dead for no visible reason…Clancy and Colt shot…and why?

She’d never had any trouble like this. Hard work was one thing. Raising two daughters and running the ranch left her tired and oftentimes grumpy. But murder downright scared her.

Had Will left enemies who just now decided to whip out calling cards? Her husband had confessed to so much law breaking. At the time, she hid her fright and focused on keeping him comfortable. A dying man usually had a wagonload of regrets and things he wanted to say. He hadn’t given her names or mentioned that her life and the girls’ lives were in danger. Five years had passed since then. Surely this was something completely different from Will’s acquaintances seeking revenge. She hoped so. She prayed so.

A twinge, like a knife twisting in an open wound, startled her. The trouble began just before Colt arrived. Was he a part of this? She shook her head to dispel the frightening thought. He’d been in prison before coming to the Double L, which caused her to suspect him, but today he’d been hurt worse than Clancy. She refused to believe he’d taken part in what happened. Perhaps God had sent her an outlaw to run off outlaws. Peculiar thought. For certain, she wasn’t in the business of second-guessing the hand of the Almighty.

“Mama, do you like Mr. Colt?” Sammie Jo asked.

Anne turned the soft biscuit dough in her hands. “He’s a good worker, and he helped save Clancy’s and Thatcher Lee’s lives today.”

“I mean, do you like him?”

“Sammie Jo, I’m not sure what you mean.” But Anne understood exactly what her daughter meant, and she had no intentions of answering.

“Do you like him the same as Daddy?”

Anne’s heart pounded like an Indian drum. “Why ever would you ask me such a thing?”

“Because I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you.”

“I think your dreamin’ on Thatcher Lee has gone to your head.” Anne hoped her words sounded gruff.

Sammie Jo giggled. “You answered my question. How would Daddy feel about you takin’ up with an outlaw? Especially one who’s a heathen? The way I look at it, you two could marry up and then have other outlaws at the ranch looking for work and free food.”

“Child, I’m going to take a switch to your backside if you don’t stop pestering me. Do you understand? No more such foolishness.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Anne saw a grin spread over her daughter’s face. Mercy, did the whole world see her interest in Colt Wilson?

“We’re having church,” Clancy said.

Colt wanted to sleep. His leg hurt. Clancy’s arm had to hurt, too. Irritability inched through his veins like a slow-rising flood.

“Can’t do that,” Colt said. “Anne told us to sleep. We need to heal and get back to work.”

“God said to honor His day.”

“Still can’t. We didn’t take our Saturday night bath.”

“Fine. I’m reading from the Bible, and you can lay there and listen.”

Clancy fumbled under his bunk while Colt rolled over to head back to sleep.

“Doesn’t your arm hurt?”

Clancy chuckled. “Yeah, but when I think about what our Lord did on the cross for me, it makes no difference.”

Colt moaned. Here it comes. Preaching with a one-man congregation. Next Clancy would be asking him to confess and head to the creek to wash away his sins.

“This morning the good Lord’s leading me to read from Genesis, the story of Jacob and Esau.”

“And who are they?”

“Brothers who never got along.”

Colt blew out an exasperated sigh. “I have three, and we fought all the time we were growing up.”

Clancy cleared his throat. “Lord, we ask Your blessing on the reading of Your Word. Make sure Colt listens. I’m beginning in Genesis chapter 25, verse 19.”

Colt half listened, half dozed through the story about twins named Jacob and Esau. One was his daddy’s favorite, and the other was his mama’s. Colt had been a part of such a family. He hadn’t been anyone’s favorite. All of a sudden, Clancy had his attention.

“You mean Esau sold his inheritance for a bowl of soup?”

“Yep. He must have been powerful hungry.”

“More like a fool.” Colt opened his eyes. He’d listen a little more. “How did those two get in the Bible? One is a fool, and the other lies to his own daddy.”

“The Bible is full of sinful people. I know you’ve heard the preacher say how none of us is perfect. Now will you hush and let me finish?”

So Colt listened. Jacob had to take off because Esau threatened to kill him for getting the inheritance. His mama sent him to live with her people. Then Jacob fell in love. Colt was beginning to understand how that felt, too. “None of those fellers is decent,” he said. “Jacob worked seven years for Rachel, then got stuck with her ugly sister and had to work seven more years.” He started to say more, but Clancy shot him one of those “shut up and listen” looks.

The story went on, and Colt started to drift off to sleep until Clancy got to the part about the angel breaking Jacob’s leg and how he limped to meet Esau. Jacob was scared his brother was going to kill him, and Colt understood those feelings, too. He’d been a horrible bully to his brothers. It worked out for Jacob and Esau, but those men had been real bad.

“What do you think?” Clancy asked.

“I’m thinking on it. Jacob wasn’t much better than an outlaw until he wrestled with the angel. He turned himself into bein’ a decent man after that.”

“What about you?”

Here comes the confessing-your-sins part. “What about me?”

“Looks to me like you’re changing into a different man from the one who rode in here. God must be wrestling with you, too.”

Colt didn’t say a word. Clancy closed his Bible and placed it back under his bed.

“I’m going to rest a little,” Clancy said. “My arm’s on fire.”

“And my leg feels like someone branded it.”

Me, wrestling with an angel? The only thing I wrestle with are all the things I’ve done in the past—and if I’d ever be good enough for Anne and the girls.