A Promise to Believe in (26 page)

Gwen raced into the house, her heart pounding from the run as well as the fear that coursed through her. She had fallen in love with Hank Bishop, and apparently he had noticed it. Otherwise, why would he have kissed her? Why did she always have to wear her heart on her sleeve?

Her eyes blurred, and her heart felt as if it might break. Hank would leave soon. With or without the certificates, his life was in Boston. Blinded by her tears, she hurried up the stairs and didn’t realize Beth was there until she knocked into her at full speed.

Beth cried out and grasped for the banister as she began to fall backward. Gwen reached for her sister, but it was too late. Beth crashed against the steps and railing with sickening thuds.

Gwen screamed, but there was no one and nothing that could stop the tragedy from unfolding before her.

I’ve killed her. I
am
cursed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Hank came running at the sound of Gwen’s scream. He couldn’t imagine what would send her into such hysterics. Major passed him quickly and bounded into the still-open front door, barking in a fitful ruckus as he went.

Reaching the porch, Hank’s feet never touched the steps. He leapt onto the landing and rushed into the house. “What’s wrong?”

He saw Gwen standing on the stairs, frozen in place with her hands to her mouth. At the bottom of the steps lay Beth, unconscious and bleeding from a blow to the head.

“What happened?” he asked, kneeling beside the still form.

“I . . . oh . . . I . . .” Gwen sank to the steps.

“Gwen? Are you all right? What happened to Beth? Did Mr. Bishop hurt her?”

Hank threw Lacy a scathing look. “I do wish you didn’t think quite so highly of me, Miss Gallatin. Your sister obviously fell. Is that what happened, Gwen?”

She seemed to recover some of her senses and rushed to Beth’s side. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I knocked her down. Oh, Beth! Beth, please wake up.” She reached for Beth’s body and pulled her into her arms. Rocking her back and forth, Gwen sobbed. “Please don’t die. Please, Beth.”

“I’ll go for the doctor,” Lacy said. She was out the door before Hank could approve her plan or state otherwise.

“Let’s get her upstairs to bed,” Hank said. “You lead the way; I’ll carry her.”

Gwen seemed reluctant to let him take Beth but finally yielded and got to her feet. “It’s the last room on the left, once you go down our private hall.” She raced ahead of him and opened the door.

Hank carefully maneuvered Beth’s petite frame through the door. The bleeding wasn’t so bad, he thought, but the goose egg on her forehead was growing by the minute. “Do you have any ice?”

Gwen turned at her sister’s bedroom. “I think there’s still a little in the cellar. There won’t be much.”

“Get what you can. We need to control the swelling on her head.”

Gwen went first to pull down the covers on the bed. “I’ll be right back with it,” she told him as she raced for the door.

Hank placed Beth upon the bed and smoothed back her hair. Spying the bowl and pitcher, he took up a nearby towel and dampened it. He cleaned the blood away from the wound, happy to see that the cut was minimal. Hopefully, the blow wouldn’t cause internal problems.

She moaned but didn’t awaken. Hank shook his head, remembering her innocent act when he’d learned of the red dye she’d used on his shirts. When they’d returned this morning, he’d been happy to find the remaining lavender shirts were now a dark blue. They suited him much better. No doubt Beth had been responsible for this change, as well.

He smiled. The Gallatin women were certainly an unpredictable and charming bunch. He rinsed the cloth and put it on Beth’s forehead. As he did so, Hank spied something sticking out from beneath her pillow. He reached for it and smiled. It was a dime novel, not unlike the ones he’d found in the shed. This one appeared to be a romance that suggested mystery and scandal.

The Lost Lady of Malburay
. He chuckled and put the book back under her pillow as he heard Gwen approaching down the hall.

“Here,” she said. “It isn’t much, but I did my best to chop it up a bit.” She handed him a knotted dish towel.

“It’s plenty,” he assured. Hank removed the wet towel and replaced it with the bag of ice.

Gwen sat on the opposite side of the bed and took up Beth’s hand. “I can’t believe I was so careless. If she dies . . . if she . . .”

“She’s not going to die. Look—she’s already coming around.”

Beth’s eyelashes fluttered and opened. She looked rather befuddled. “What’s happened?”

“Oh, it’s all my fault,” Gwen told her. “I knocked you down the stairs in my rush to get to my room. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even see you there.”

“I hurt. My back feels twisted.”

“Lacy’s gone for the doctor, but it will probably be a while before they get back,” Gwen told her. “Just lie still and let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

“I suppose I’ll just rest,” Beth said, closing her eyes with a grimace. “It hurts too much to do anything else.”

It was nearly time for the evening stage when the doctor finally arrived. Gwen paced back and forth downstairs as she waited for the doctor to return from examining Beth. Lacy did likewise.

“You ladies will wear a hole in the floor if you don’t stop pacing,” Hank said. He got up and stoked the fire in the hearth. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She didn’t seem to hurt as much by the time the doctor arrived.”

“But she’s still injured,” Gwen said, taking a seat. She gripped the arms of the chair as if to be ready to leap forward at any minute.

Hank straightened and looked at his watch. “What time is the stage due in?”

“Oh no,” Gwen said, jumping up. “I forgot about the stage. I have to get supper on. They’ll be here at six-thirty. What time is it?”

“Five-thirty,” Hank replied. “Look, I’m happy to help. Tell me what needs to be done.”

Gwen looked at Lacy and then back to Hank. “It’s Saturday night. We usually have beef stew. I’ll need to check and see how much meat we have. With the warm weather, it just doesn’t keep.” She seemed to consider the situation for a moment. “Hank, bring up the water like you did this morning, as well as more wood. Lacy, you get the stove heated up and start mixing a cake.”

“I don’t know how to make a cake,” Lacy said, looking at her sister as if she’d lost her mind.

“The recipe is in the drawer with the others,” Gwen said. “Use the one for ribbon cake. I’ll bring up the butter and milk from the cellar. You’ll find the rest of the ingredients in the cupboard. Just start it, and I’ll come help after I get the stew on.”

Hank watched them swing into action once again. He made his way out back to bring up pails of hot water for the sink. He couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of usefulness. Boston held its charms, for something always stood ready to offer entertainment and excitement. But here a person often entertained himself—made his own excitement.

Next door, Rafe’s Saloon was well lit and ready for business. Cubby was hauling supplies in from a shed behind the main building.

“Nice evening,” Hank called as Cubby crossed the yard.

“Yeah, sure is.” Cubby paused and looked at Hank. “You workin’ here now?”

“Just for the time being,” Hank replied. “Beth took a fall, and I figured the girls could use a hand.”

“Is Miss Beth going to be all right?” he asked, the concern quite clear in his voice. He put his crate down momentarily.

Hank looked at the scrappy youth and smiled. “I think she’ll be fine. You know it takes more than a tumble down the stairs to keep those Gallatin ladies down.”

Cubby smiled. “They sure are fine ladies, aren’t they?”

“They are indeed.”

“Someday I’d like to marry a fine lady,” Cubby said wistfully. “I don’t reckon none will have me, though. Pa says I’m not fit to be good company for much of anybody.”

“Well, I’d hate to say your pa is wrong,” Hank said, glancing at the saloon, “but I believe you’re great company. I was going to ask if maybe you could show me a good place to go fishing—even join me, if you had the time. Say, tomorrow morning after the stage pulls out?”

“I know all the best places,” Cubby said, his chest puffing in pride. “I’d be happy to take you with me.”

“Good. Then it’s a plan. I’ll meet with you in the morning after all the chores are finished.”

The boy nodded and picked his crate back up. “I’d best get this inside.”

Hank figured he should do likewise with the water. He had just stepped inside the kitchen with two pails when he heard the doctor speaking.

“Her back is badly twisted, but I did not perceive any breaks. She has good feeling in her extremities, so I have no reason to believe she’s suffered any permanent damage. Keep her in bed a couple of weeks.”

“What about her head? That was a nasty blow she took.”

Hank heard the fear in Gwen’s voice. He put the water down and went to join the trio at the door. Lacy looked at him for moment as if to protest his intrusion but said nothing.

“She’ll be fine. She’s got a hard head,” the doctor said and winked. “I think it’s one of the best qualities about you Gallatin girls.”

Hank smiled at Lacy’s scowl. “I’ve got work to do,” she said and pushed past him to the kitchen.

“I’ll be heading back to Bozeman,” the doctor said. “You girls come pay me next time you’re in town.”

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” Gwen told him. “The stage is due in most any time, but we’ve always got room for you.”

“No, I have three different cases that need attention. I’ll look in on them as I make my way back.” He smiled and patted Gwen’s arm. “Now, try not to fret. I know you’re like a mama bear with her cubs when it comes to your sisters. Bethany will be just fine.”

The stage pulled in twenty minutes late and was loaded with more men than Hank had figured possible to stuff onto the conveyance. As he watched them make their way into the house, Hank also noted a large group of riders approach the saloon—clearly local cowhands. It looked like there would be a lot of activity in the area tonight.

Hank’s prediction proved to be accurate. After a hearty dinner, most of the travelers made their way next door. Soon, music and laughter could be heard throughout the valley. He was just returning with another armful of firewood when he caught sight of someone slinking across the backyard. Pausing behind the outhouses, the figure seemed to assess the situation before moving inside the back of Rafe’s Saloon.

It was Lacy. Hank was certain of this.
What is she up to now? If she’s not careful, we’ll be needing the doctor for her.

Hank deposited the wood and brushed off his clothes. He wondered what he should do.

“Let me go, you lousy poltroon!” Lacy yelled as a big, burly man wrestled her out the back door. “I said, let me go!”

“You little minx—you know better than to come into the saloon. Unless you want Rafe putting you to work in the cribs with the rest of the women, I’d suggest you mind your manners.”

He had her by the hair and seemed not in the least bit prepared when she changed directions and moved toward him. Hank heard the man cry out as Lacy sank her teeth into his arm.

“You wildcat!” The man pulled her backward until Hank thought he might bend her over completely.

He figured enough was enough and stepped forward to see if he could intervene on behalf of the youngest Gallatin.

“Evening,” he said rather casually. “Am I interrupting?”

“Yes, you are!” Lacy said, twisting in the man’s grip. “I don’t need you helping me.”

Hank crossed his arms and eyed the man quite seriously. “I think it’d probably be best to let her go, friend. She seems all worked up about something.”

“She’s worked up, all right. She’s mad because I won’t let her stay in the bar and hound the customers about where they were the night her pa got shot.”

Without warning, Lacy straightened and kicked the man hard in the groin. The man released her and doubled over, howling in pain.

“You ever lay a hand on me again, Wyman Jenkins, and I’ll give you worse than that. I have a right to find out who killed my pa. I’ll learn the truth sooner or later, and when I do, I hope the sheriff comes and shuts Rafe’s place down. After all, he’s responsible for getting the men drunk in the first place.”