Chapter 9

Mrs. Yates jumped at the sound of her husband’s voice. She twisted on the bed and jumped again, this time at the sight of Dare leaning over her. “Why, I declare, whatever is going on here? Who are you, young man?”

Tina was glad for the interruption, because she saw the storm clouds churning in Vince’s brown eyes.

“I’m a doctor, and you bumped your head.” Dare’s soothing tone darkened and grew louder as he looked up. “I need quiet in here.”

Mrs. Yates didn’t jump this time. Instead her eyes went wide and she leaned a bit toward Dare.

“My patient needs to stay calm. Make yourself useful, Vince.” Dare’s voice returned to being calm as he drew Vince back from glaring daggers at his father.

Tina saw so much pass between Dare and Vince. It then struck her hard that she’d never had a real friend. Her growing-up years had been lonely beyond belief. Now, here with Jonas, despite her picketing, she’d been drawn into her brother’s circle of friends and she loved it. And they let her be part of their circle, even if she did have to give them an occasional scolding to get them to do as she asked. She’d noticed well enough that none of them hesitated to scold her right back—Vince most especially. But they never withdrew their friendship when they did so.

Now here was Dare, seeing a fight brewing, trying to head it off so they could focus on what was most important: his patient’s health. Although heading off a fight between a father and a son was a good cause all of itself. Such a good cause in fact that Tina, despite her annoyance with Mr. Yates, should probably paint up a sign and march around with it, advising against fathers and sons fighting.

“Mr. Yates, your presence here is disturbing your wife.” Dare spoke with all the authority of a doctor. “Maybe you could occupy yourself settling into the boardinghouse.”

Tina saw Mr. Yates stiffen, not happy to be dismissed. He looked at his ailing wife, pulled his pocket watch from his vest pocket, snapped it open and studied it for a moment. Looking up he said, “You’re right, Doctor. I think it’s high time for me to go.” With a humph he snapped his watch shut, tucked it away, turned, and with a steady thump of his cane, left the building.

A bit more gently, Dare said, “Help me hold your ma’s hands, Vincent.”

Using his full name brought Vince’s eyes to his ma. Dare had done it deliberately, probably hoping Mrs. Yates would recognize it in her muddled state. A taut muscle worked in Vince’s jaw, but he got a grip on his temper and turned back to his ailing ma.

As Vince sat on the bed beside her, his ma smiled up at him. “Son, it’s so nice to see you. When did you get home?”

Vince drew in a breath so deep his whole body rose. He leaned close. “I just got here, Mother. The doctor needs to help you. You have a cut on your head.” Vince’s voice dropped to an inaudible murmur, and his mother seemed enthralled with him.

Then she turned to Dare. “I’ll be still, Doctor. Thank you ever so much for your assistance.” She lay utterly still, but her eyes slid to Vince. “You’ve gotten so handsome, Vincent. I declare you are the very image of your father.”

She continued to speak to Dare and Vince in turn in her pretty Southern drawl.

Ruthy Stone stepped out of the barn, her milk pail brimming over. She ran smack into Quince Wilcox, a recently hired cowhand.

He stumbled and fell against her. Milk slopped out of the pail. Ruthy was quick to steady it before more spilt as she backed away into the barn. Quince lurched backward and hit the wide open door, then stumbled to a halt. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Stone.”

He was tall and skinny, with a scruffy beard and dirty blond hair that hung in his light-blue eyes. He was older than Ruthy, and most of the cowpokes, except for Dodger and their cook, were young. Riding herd was a job for youngsters.

Quince leaned toward her and Ruthy, who’d never considered for a moment not feeling safe around their hired men, fought the urge to take a step back. Quince blocked the door so she couldn’t get out without pushing him aside. But it didn’t suit her to retreat.

He grabbed the barn door as if to steady himself, then stepped just a bit closer and caught her arm. “There now, sorry about the spill, ma’am.”

Ruthy didn’t back up, not wanting to allow the man to step in and shut the door on them. That was when she smelled liquor on his breath.

He held on longer than was appropriate in Ruthy’s opinion but made no further move. She didn’t like his touch, though she sensed no real threat. He held on to keep himself upright.

Controlling her expression to show no fear, she said crisply, “Please step aside, Mr. Wilcox. I’m late for preparing the evening meal. Your supper will be ready in the bunkhouse by now I’m sure.”

Quince narrowed his eyes. Ruthy suspected he was seeing two of her. He shook his head, dropped her arm, and turned aside.

“Supper in the bunkhouse.” He nodded as if trying to understand what that meant. Then he staggered away without another word.

Ruthy was shaken by the unpleasant encounter. She closed the barn door, watched Quince walk on tottering legs for a bit, then hurried inside.

By the time Luke came in, she was calm again and wondering why she’d let something so small upset her. It reminded her too much of Virgil—the son of the family who’d raised her when she’d been orphaned as a child. He wasn’t a drinker, but he’d liked putting his hands on her. She might be overly disturbed by Quince because of Virgil, and that wasn’t fair to the man. She set fried chicken on the table while Luke washed up. She decided not to talk about Quince grabbing her. But she could mention the whiskey breath and unsteadiness because that made him a problem around the ranch.

Once settled to her meal, she said, “One of your hired men was the worse for drink when I saw him outside a bit ago.”

Luke had just torn a bite off a chicken leg, and he watched her closely as he chewed. After swallowing, he asked, “Who was it?”

Ruthy didn’t like the tone of Luke’s voice, and she hated to get one of the men fired. “The newest one, Quince Wilcox.”

Taking another bite of chicken, Luke mulled that over. “I know some of the men like to go into the saloon on payday. I don’t like it, but I’ve never felt right about saying they can’t, not as long as they don’t get into trouble in town. I always figured what a man does with his money and his time off is between him and God, so long as he don’t hurt anyone. But they usually keep that kind of ruckus in town and settle down after they’ve taken a chunk out of their month’s pay. I’ve never caught one back here drunk. Payday was two weeks ago. You say he was drinking now? Here on the ranch?”

Ruthy rested one hand on her rounded stomach and felt their child move. She hadn’t liked Quince touching her. But she didn’t like turning a man out of a job. Neither was she about to lie. “I didn’t see him drink, but I smelled liquor on his breath.”

“You smelled it?” Luke’s eyes sharpened until he was utterly focused on Ruthy—and he’d been paying real close attention already. “Just how close did Wilcox get to you?”

Luke had grown up here in Indian Territory in Texas. He’d fought in the Civil War, and when his pa had been murdered and his ranch stolen he’d gotten it back by facing the man who’d killed his pa and battling it out. Luke was as sweet and gentle as a man could be, but there was no denying her husband was a tough man. It was one of the things she liked most about him.

But she felt guilty to say the words that would get a man fired. And she knew she could say those words. Luke was so protective he’d never keep a man around who bothered her in any way. All she’d have to say was that his actions had backed her into the barn and she’d been afraid to be shut up in the barn with him. “Well . . . uh, he staggered. I . . . I swung the barn door open right as he was passing. He stumbled into it. That was mostly my fault.” Except he was walking so close, while normally a person gave doors a wide berth just because they could swing open. She wondered if Wilcox had been leaning on the barn to keep himself steady. “It was when he stumbled that he got close enough I could smell his breath.”

Luke’s jaw formed a tight line, and he put his chicken back on the plate. A bad sign because not much came between Luke and her fried chicken.

“This just happened now? Tonight?” Luke’s tone gave Ruthy a little chill down her spine. She was glad she’d told him right away, because she knew he’d’ve been unhappy if she’d kept it from him, then he’d found out later somehow. He wouldn’t even like it if she waited until tomorrow to tell him.

“Yes, just after I milked the cow tonight.”

“So Wilcox was drinking during the workday?” Luke went back to eating his chicken.

No answer to that question was required, so Ruthy went on with her meal, too.

Luke finished in half the normal time. As he rose from the table, a knock sounded at the back door. He went to it, and Dodger, the S Bar S Ranch foreman, stood in the light cast from the kitchen lanterns.

“Are you all right?” Luke asked Dodger. Ruthy came up beside him.

“Yep, just getting back.” Dodger stepped inside. He was a mess. His right eye was swollen shut. His hat was missing. One sleeve of his coat was badly ripped, and he limped with every step. “I found a cow that’d dropped her calf and it had stumbled into a spring. The calf was soaking wet, shivering so bad I figured it wouldn’t survive without help. I had a time convincing the mama I oughta bring the baby in where it’s warm.”

“Get in here.” Luke stepped back.

Ruthy knew Dodger had been around since Luke was a boy. The foreman had white hair and a thick gray mustache. He wasn’t a fast-moving man, but there was no job on the ranch he’d ask anyone to do that he couldn’t do better himself. Ruthy had trusted him ever since he’d helped Luke get the S Bar S back from Flint Greer.

“Yep, that cow didn’t think I needed to touch her baby. But the calf’s in the barn now and the mama alongside it. They’ll be fine.”

“Sit down and share our meal.” Luke glanced at Ruthy.

She smiled and waved Dodger to the table. “There’s plenty. Get off your feet for a spell.”

“That chicken looks mighty good, Mrs. Stone. I’m sure the food in the bunkhouse has gone stone cold by now. I’m obliged for the offer.” Dodger sank down at the kitchen table with a muffled groan. One arm went to his ribs, yet he didn’t complain. Ruthy resisted the urge to offer medical help. Dodger wouldn’t appreciate his weakness being pointed out. He was banged up, but if he was really hurt, he’d probably say so.

Ruthy bustled about, getting a plate and filling it with chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy. She laid a slice of freshly baked bread on the plate, pushed the butter and jelly closer to Dodger, poured everyone a fresh cup of coffee, and sat down to join them.

A few minutes of silence passed, the only sound that of their clinking silverware. Ruthy saw the determined expression on Luke’s face. But he bided his time, letting Dodger eat in peace.

Finally, Dodger swallowed the last bite and lifted his coffee cup, turning to Luke. “What’s going on, boss? I’ve seen that look before. It means there’s a problem.”

“There is a problem, for a fact. Wilcox was drunk today at work.”

Dodger set his cup down with a click of tin on wood. “He was?”

“He bumped into Ruthy. She smelled liquor on his breath.”

Dodger turned and locked his eyes on Ruthy until she wanted to squirm. “Is that all he did, ma’am? You’ve got a mighty kind heart. Are you saying less than the full truth because you’re worried about him losing his job?”

Luke turned to study Ruthy closely while waiting for an answer.

Dragging in a calming breath, Ruthy said, “I am worried about him losing his job. We can’t have a drunkard around the place, but just because he had a drink today doesn’t mean it’s a habit.”

She hadn’t answered Dodger, not completely. She sincerely hoped no one noticed.

“More often than not, drinking during the day, especially a workday, does mean it’s a habit.” Dodger took a drink of his coffee.

Luke worked his jaw until she saw muscles tense in his face. She thought he was reading her mind, seeing the few moments when she’d been just a bit frightened.

Without goading her to say more, Luke turned to Dodger. “I’ve never had a hard-and-fast rule about drinking on the job because I’ve never needed one. No man tries to work cattle while nipping at a bottle.”

Dodger shrugged a shoulder. “No man who wants to live to an old age anyway. A cowpoke needs his wits about him when he’s out dodging hooves and horns.”

Though Dodge sat there exhausted and battered, Ruthy knew he’d be fine. What if he’d been as unsteady as Wilcox? Ruthy knew there was no sense letting an already dangerous job get worse.

“Let’s go talk to the varmint.” Dodger pushed back his chair.

“Reckon he’s asleep by now.” Luke waved at the cup in front of his foreman. “Finish your coffee. We’ll talk with him first thing in the morning, if his head’ll stay on his shoulders.”

“Why wouldn’t his head stay on his shoulders?” Ruthy gasped.

Luke gave her a tight smile. “A drinking man tends to wake up with a sore head. And the best cure for it, to a drunkard’s way of thinking, is to take another drink. A man can have a heap of trouble getting out of that cycle.”

Turning back to Dodger, Luke went on, “A man unsteady because of drink can put himself, the other cowpokes, and his horse in danger.”

“You sure we shouldn’t go see the coyote now?” Dodger took one long, last swallow of his coffee.

“Let’s wait. If he’s worse for drink, we’ll only be wasting our time. In the morning we’ll have it out with him when he’s sobered up. Maybe it’s time to talk to all the men. Make some rules. Just so no one can say they’re surprised that I frown on drinking hard liquor.”

“I suppose morning would be better. But we’ll make it early, before he starts guzzling again.” Dodger rose from the table, stiffer for having stopped and rested, but he kept moving and that was about all any man could do.

He swung the door open just as a gun fired and a bullet ricocheted off the doorframe just inches from his face.

Dodger dove backward.

Luke launched himself toward Ruthy and dragged her to the floor.

“She’s going to be fine,” Dare whispered as he stepped away from the now-sleeping Virginia Belle. He’d been all afternoon tending her, most of it spent just being kind and letting her rest.

Vince had spent that time talking with Mother, and she’d known he was her son. She’d been moved to tears a few times, but Vince had stuck it out when he wanted to run. Afraid she’d forget him while he was hiding from salt water.

Now the lantern lights were turned high, and the sun had dipped behind the mesa west of town. Dare rubbed his back as he straightened from his patient.

Vince knew Mother wasn’t going to be fine . . . ever. But he would hold this day in his heart. His mother had remembered him.

He’d felt plenty of guilt for leaving home once he’d regained his strength after the war. Mother had needed someone to care for her. But she wasn’t about to let that someone be Vince, not back then. And for him it had been a kind of torture to see Mother tremble at the sight of him.

Father had never been proud of Vince, and Vince had learned to handle that. But Mother could be kind if Vince was very mindful of her feelings. Having her forget who he was crushed him until he could barely breathe in that fancy house in Chicago.

So he’d left, wandered, spent a winter reading law books, and finally ended up here to help Luke Stone get back his ranch. And he’d kept his father aware of where he was if he ever quit drifting long enough to have an address. Then Father would write to him, demanding he return home and assume his responsibilities, and Vince would write back and refuse.

Vince had no confidence that Mother would still remember him when she awoke. He braced himself to accept that.

He turned and saw his little sister had leaned forward where she sat and fallen asleep face-first on the table. “Melissa.”

She jerked upright at the sound of her name.

“You’re exhausted.” Vince was surprised at his reflexive interest in protecting her. The thought that Tina was someone’s little sister skittered through Vince’s head, and he banished it the moment he thought it.

Melissa shook her head as if to clear it. Vince realized she still had on the dusty clothing she’d been wearing when she’d stepped out of the coach hours ago.

Vince hadn’t cleaned up all day, either.

Melissa knew how hard Father must have pushed to get across the country as fast as he had. Mother clearly was all done in. Vince felt much the same.

Father had probably washed up, demanded someone make him a meal, and then gone to sleep. Vince hadn’t seen him since he’d left after visiting Mother hours ago.

“You need to rest, Missy. But first, do you have the energy to tell us more about Mother’s condition?”

Melissa rubbed her eyes. She spoke quietly of Mother’s inability to remember dates and names. Melissa’s voice started out rusty from sleep, but she gained energy as she talked. She told them how Mother sometimes got lost in the house where she’d lived for years. And then Father had built a new house. A mansion so huge it was beyond Melissa’s ability to describe.

“Since we’ve moved, Virginia Belle is always restless. I think it’s because she just can’t remember where she is. I suspect she’s searching for anything familiar, and when she’s slipped out of the house, I think she’s trying to go home.

“Until recently she often had tea with old friends, but ever since the move, she’s far more apt to forget names, and she’s always wandering off. Our father finds that embarrassing and has more or less confined her to the house.” Melissa’s eyes shifted to Vince. “She asks for you quite often. Father wanted you to come home, and when you wouldn’t, he made a snap decision to hunt you down. We set out very suddenly and pushed as hard as possible, racing to make train connections, hiring fast-moving coaches when no train went the direction we wanted.”

“Father doesn’t make snap decisions,” Vince said. “He plots. He decides every move in advance.” For some reason, when Vince said that, he got a chill up his spine. He wasn’t sure why, and he didn’t have time to think more about it now.

“I think he must have been planning to come and see you for a while. Has he known you were living here for long?”

“Long enough.” Vince frowned as he imagined Father getting things in order, then picking his moment to leave.

“All the horses were ready at every stop. Things went too smoothly to be arranged at the last moment, even with money smoothing the way. But I think he was still hoping to get you home. He must have either given up or decided he had a better chance of ordering you home if you met face-to-face.”

“I exchanged telegraphs with him on my trip to New Orleans. I made it clear I wasn’t coming home. That must’ve been the final straw that set Father’s plans into motion.”

“We need to let your mother sleep awhile.” Dare began cleaning up his supplies from the bedside table. “Then you can get her to the boardinghouse, Vince. Your father’s probably all settled in by now. I need to run over to the livery. Sledge cut his arm last week and it’s time for me to take out the stitches. I was on my way there when your folks climbed off that carriage. I forgot all about it until now.”

“Go ahead.” Vince waved Dare off. “I’ll be here.”

Melissa said, “There should be two of us. I’ve learned the hard way that just because she’s sleeping isn’t reason enough to stop our caretaking. One person can’t watch the front and back door all the time. One person has to take occasional breaks, and trouble can happen in an instant. We had two people with her at home at all times.”

Vince looked at the dark circles under Melissa’s eyes. “You’re all in from the trip, Melissa. I’ll be all right with her for a while, if Dare hurries back.”

Melissa said uncertainly, “You look tired yourself.”

Vince remembered the shape he’d been in when he rode into town. He was just as bad now, just as dirty and exhausted and hungry. Only more so because the day had passed and the sun was now setting.

At that moment the door to Dare’s doctor’s office swung open, and Tina came in carrying a tray that smelled wonderful. A red-and-white-checked cloth covered what looked like heaped plates. His stomach growled, and he had his hands full not grabbing the tray away from her.

Dare smiled at her. “Just what we needed. Can you stay with Vince for a little while? Melissa needs rest, and I need to run and check on Sledge’s stitches.”

Tina’s smile faltered, and she gave Vince a quick glance that reminded him of what had happened the last time they were alone together. But Tina couldn’t very well explain that she didn’t want to be alone with Vince for fear he’d kiss her.

“Of course I’ll stay. I left Jonas eating and have nothing to hurry back for. Melissa, I brought a plate of food for you.”

“I’ll take it to the boardinghouse with me. I’m afraid the moment my stomach isn’t poking at me to remind me to eat, I’ll fall asleep where I sit. Best to be near a bed then.”

“Your room’s at the top of the boardinghouse steps, the room farthest to the left. Livvy’s already asleep in there. Paul got her some food. Mr. Yates has the corner room, and he’s gone to bed for the night. I knocked on his door to offer him a meal, though he did stop by the diner earlier and ate. He didn’t answer. I’m sure he was exhausted, too.” Tina added the last part doubtfully. No one could fail to notice how completely unconcerned Father was about his injured wife. Now he was sleeping and no doubt clean and well fed while everyone else hovered at Mother’s bedside.

“Thanks, Tina.” Dare rolled his sleeves down. “I’ll walk you over to the boardinghouse, Melissa.”

Melissa shrugged into her woolen coat and took the plate with a smile of gratitude.

Dare grabbed the doorknob, then paused. “I won’t be long. If your ma keeps sleeping, Glynna and I can watch over her through the night. I haven’t seen Glynna for hours. Heaven only knows where she’s gotten to.”

“She spent the afternoon and early evening with the children, working on their lessons in the room above the diner, and now she’s feeding the prisoner.” Tina set the rest of the food on the table, where Melissa had been napping.

Dare froze, his eyes wide.

“I cooked,” Tina added quickly.

Vince blew out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure exactly where cruel and unusual punishment kicked in, but Glynna’s cooking might come real close. He’d hate for Lana to get out of jail on a technicality.

“I cooked food for you all and the prisoners and Jonas.” For a moment Tina looked disgruntled, and why not? She was feeding the whole town and she wasn’t even making wages at the diner, not since it closed at noon.

“We still don’t know what to do about Lana.” Tina had a fussy expression, the one that tended to make her grab a picket sign.

“I don’t think we can talk about it now without disturbing Vince’s ma.” Dare frowned at his patient. “Then I’ll be back with Glynna and the youngsters to take over.”

Vince wanted to add, We’re going to have to spell each other forever. Because Mother’s problem wasn’t going to go away and somehow they were going to have to find two people available at all times to watch over her.

Dare held the door, and Melissa left, carrying her dinner plate.

Once the door closed, Vince turned to Tina and they stared at each other.

All Vince could think of was that unfortunate moment they’d shared earlier at the jailhouse. After all that had gone on today, that was a plumb stupid thing to be remembering.

And yet . . .

Vince wanted to run. He even took a step back. Tina could handle this for a while.

He’d go clean up, change his clothes, read a book.

Maybe he could guard the front door by standing outside. True, it was cold, but cold might be just the thing.

If Tina was to guard the back door, she could go stand in the kitchen.

With him outside and her in the kitchen, they wouldn’t even have to see each other.

Mother stirred.

Vince thought of the windows she could climb out.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

For now, he and Tina were stuck together.