“WHAT ARE you doing there on the cold ground, coughing your guts up?” the voice asked.
I must have dozed off. I recollect Martha begging me to come inside and me being sassy to her, then someone throwing a blanket over me. All I heard now was the far-flung call of birds going about their morning business. I raised my head. It was Sue Mundy, dressed as Sue Mundy. She was scowling down at me. I closed my eyes again.
“The bears are dead,” I managed to say in a voice chilled with cold. “Bill Anderson was here and he shot them.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Earlier this morning.”
“Is that a reason to lie on the ground and sacrifice yourself to the gods for pneumonia?”
“I don’t care about pneumonia. For all I know I’ve got it already.” I coughed deeply. “Just go away and leave me be.”
“You wouldn’t talk that way if your brother were here.”
“Well, he isn’t, is he? He’s out gallivanting someplace with stupid Quantrill and his men.” I coughed again. My head hurt. I squinted my eyes in the brightness of the day. Who was that man a short distance from us, down the drive? He wasn’t one of Quantrill’s men. He wasn’t dressed like it. “What’d you do?” I asked. “Bring home an outrider?”
“And I thought, when I kissed you way back when, it’d help you grow up. Well, it didn’t, did it? Do you know what your trouble is, Juliet Bradshaw? Your brother never laid a hand on you, that’s your trouble. He’s too darned nice a guy. Go on, get in the house. I’ll be along in a minute.”
“I’m not going.” I fell back on the ground and covered myself with the blanket.
Just then I felt a shadow fall over me, blocking the bright sun, darkening my world more than the blanket could. And in the next instant I was lifted off the ground, and a hand pulled the blanket from my face.
Oh, I wanted the blanket. Give it back to me.
The familiar face with a day’s worth of beard grazed mine in a kiss. “Hello, Juliet.”
“Hello, Seth.”
“Stupid Quantrill, hey? Shall I tell him you said that? Or would you rather tell him yourself?”
I knew the smell of him, the strong soap he used mixed with whiskey and horse and tobacco. I didn’t open my eyes right off because I wanted to throw up, I was so disgusted with myself.
“Come on, Juliet.” He was walking with me to the porch. “Own up.”
I hid my face in his shirtfront.
“I thought you liked Sue Mundy.” In the house he paused in the foyer.
“I do.” My answer was mumbled.
“You don’t treat her that way. And the same goes for me.”
“Oh, Seth, I’m sorry. It’s just that things are so mumblefuddled around here.”
“Mumblefuddled, hey?”
“Yes.” I opened my eyes to look into his. He was not angry. He was amused. “And now the two bears are dead. Dead, Seth. That damned Bill Anderson shot them for no reason at all.”
“Don’t cuss. I don’t like you cussing.” Serious. Don’t fool around with serious.
“All right,” I said meekly. I am an expert at meekness when his mood calls for it. He set me down. Martha and Maxine almost leaped on him, and there were all sorts of greetings. In the next moment Martha and Seth went into a sunny corner of the dining room and kissed and hugged in front of the lace curtains.
When they finished she was flushed. I turned away and started coughing. Seth frowned. “That doesn’t sound so good. Get my saddlebag, please, Maxine.”
She fetched it and he fished around inside and drew out a small bottle. “Quantrill sent this for you. It’ll knock your cough into next week. You gotta eat first, though.”
“Everybody sit down,” Maxine ordered. “And eat.”
We sat at the table and everybody talked at once. I ate an egg, some toast, and tea. Then I kissed Martha and, without prompting, told her I was sorry for giving her a difficult time outside before.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, “you know we all love you. Now go to sleep for a while. Seth said he’s going to make little coffins for the bears.”
Seth nodded and I kissed him. He said nothing. He made me take Quantrill’s concoction right there at the table, a teaspoonful of cherry-tasting opiate syrup. Then I left the room with Maxine to go to bed.
“I know now how you manage her without raising a hand,” I heard Sue Mundy say.
“How’s that?” Seth asked.
“To the naked eye it seems as if you spoil her,” Sue told him, “but when you really study on it, you’ve got her wrapped around your finger, Seth. But the cord isn’t rope, it’s silver.”
“It’s love,” Martha said, “the strongest rope there is.”
I looked back. Seth was holding his coffee cup and blushing.
When I awoke it was dark outside, night. From below I heard voices, ordinary family voices, and I smelled food. It must be suppertime. I quietly ventured downstairs.