Arizona Embrace (46 page)

“He ought to be.” Victoria couldn’t be angry any longer. She was too happy.

“A Pinkerton will be arriving any day now. He’ll probably want to talk with you.”

“You know where to find me. At the moment, my engagement calendar is entirely empty.”

“I’ll see what I can do to remedy that in the future.”

“I already have.”

Mr. Woolridge looked inquiringly at Victoria, but she declined to enlighten him. It was her secret, and she wanted to keep it to herself a little longer.

Kirby rushed past Sheriff Sprague and skidded to a stop in front of Victoria’s cell. He stared in stunned surprise through the bars. Victoria lay on the bed, her body racked by convulsions.

“What’s wrong with her?” Kirby demanded, staring at her with horror-stricken eyes.

“I don’t know,” Sheriff Sprague replied, abject fear in his voice. “She took sick just a few minutes ago. She’s been moaning something awful ever since. Every time I ask her what’s wrong, she groans even louder and gets sick all over again. What am I supposed to do? We can’t have her making all those terrible sounds. Sounds worse than if the jail was haunted.”

“Have you sent for the doctor?”

“He’s away.”

“I’ll get mother. She’ll know what to do.”

“I don’t know what caused it,” the sheriff insisted. “Maybe she’s had a heatstroke or something. It’s right hot back here in these cells.”

“You better hope that’s it,” Kirby replied, “If she dies, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Trinity was real irritated at Ward, at Kirby Blazer, at Sheriff Sprague, and at himself. He was particularly irritated with Chalk Gillet. If he could have gotten his hands on that spineless coward just now, Chalk would have had two smashed wrists to complain about.

Because of Chalk Gillet he’d been away too long and Victoria had ended up in the Bandera jail.

Ward’s disgust and shame with his own performance had prevented Trinity from working off more than a fraction of his temper on his foreman, but he was spoiling to smash something or anybody who crossed his path.

But it seemed the citizens of Bandera were in league to continue his frustration. The hot afternoon sun had driven them off the dusty streets. Even the benches on the hotel porch and the chairs set out under awnings by merchants were empty.

The town of Bandera had developed in sections. Mexicans shared the southern portion with the saloons and dance halls, frequented mostly by gamblers, cowhands, and people who didn’t want their identity or location known. The commercial district lay north of that along the main street. Behind that and along the edge of town were the homes of the merchants, prominent citizens, and some of the cowmen prosperous enough to have a house in town.

The jail straddled the line between the merchants and the saloon keepers.

Trinity was even more irritated when he walked inside and found no one there. Victoria was not to be left unguarded, not even for one second. The sooner Wylie Sprague understood that, the better. Trinity headed to the back of the jail toward the cells.

He almost burst out laughing when he saw the bed piled high with mattresses and pillows and the boxes of clothes, even the door was open. The sheriff was using his head. Giving Victoria the run of the jail as well as every possible luxury was good insurance for later. No one would be able to say he hadn’t given an innocent woman every possible consideration.

The cell was empty. Damn, that was going too far. What good was it to put Victoria in jail if she had the run of Bandera? That was no protection. Judge Blazer could have her picked up off the street, and he wouldn’t send boys to do it.

On his way out again, Trinity nearly collided with Sheriff Sprague.

“What kind of jackleg sheriff are you, letting your prisoners go gallivanting all over town?” Trinity groused. “Victoria should be here where you can keep an eye on her, not prancing about in some dress shop or visiting friends. Where the hell is she?”

The sheriff’s mouth opened, but he uttered nothing more than a few strangled syllables.

“Speak up, man. I’ve got Gillet’s confession and a stay of execution in my pocket. She’s a free woman. For the first time in five years she can go anywhere she wants, do anything she likes.”

“S-she’s at the h-hotel,” the sheriff managed to stammer.

“Why did you let her go there? Anything could have happened to her. Some damned fool sheriff you are.”

“She’s sick. Myra Blazer put her in her own room.”

“What’s wrong? Did she get a queasy stomach from eating the swill you serve in this place?”

“Myra doesn’t know what’s wrong.”

Trinity had never had any respect for Sheriff Sprague, but the man’s near panic finally penetrated his scorn and irritation.

“What happened? What did you feed her?”

“Nothing. She gets her food from the hotel.”

Fear such as he had never known seized Trinity’s guts and twisted them into an agonizing knot. He grabbed Sprague by the front of his shirt and shook him so hard buttons flew off and seams ripped.

“What’s wrong with her? Tell me, you goddamned sniveling coward.”

“I don’t know. She just took sick about thirty minutes ago.”

“What have you done for her?”

“I didn’t know what to do. That’s why I sent for Kirby.”

“Is she okay? Is she better?”

“She’s dying. She’ll probably be dead by the time you get there.”

With a roar of rage and anguish that sounded barely human, Trinity picked the sheriff up and threw him through a window twenty feet into the middle of the street. Then he charged down the street like a man possessed by the demons of hell.

“I don’t know what to do,” Myra said to Doctor Roundtree, wringing her hands. “She hasn’t responded to anything I’ve done.”

Victoria lay on Myra’s bed in the hotel; her face pale, her body motionless, her skin hot and dry, her pulse rapid and irregular, her breathing fast and shallow.

“Does she have a history of heart problems? Has she had a similar attack like this before?”

“I don’t know,” Myra said. “She’s my daughter-in-law, but she’s been living in Arizona for the past five years. I really know very little of her history. Did she ever mention an illness to you, Kirby?”

Kirby stood like a statue, apparently too deeply shocked to answer his mother.

“I wish me Judge were here,” Myra said, nervously twisting the huge emerald-cut diamond on her right hand. “He and her father were longtime friends. He might know something to help.”

“I hesitate to treat her without knowing anything about her,” Dr. Roundtree said. “I could so easily prescribe the wrong medicine.”

“You must do something,” Myra insisted. “You can’t let her die.”

The door slammed open and a dust-covered, wild-eyed stranger burst into the room. Ignoring everyone who stared at him as though he were some sort of apparition, he plunged across the room and fell on his knees beside the bed. He grasped Victoria’s limp hand in his and crushed it to his lips. His eyes, wide and frightening, stared at her deathly pallor.

“How dare you force yourself into private rooms,” Myra declared furiously. “Release my daughter-in-law’s hand and get out.”

The man turned blank eyes to the doctor. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know,” the doctor replied. “No one can tell me what might have caused the attack.”

“I demand that you leave at once,” Myra repeated, her face rigid with fury, “or I shall call the sheriff.”

“What have you done for her?”

“Nothing. I don’t know where to begin. No one knows her medical history, and she has been unconscious ever since I got here.”

“Kirby, fetch Sheriff Sprague. I want this man removed immediately.”

The stranger turned to Myra. The expression of hatred in his eyes was so vivid, so vibrant, it felt like a living, palpable thing.

“Get out,” the stranger ordered.

Myra’s eyes burned with a fury almost as great as the stranger’s. It was clear she was not used to being ordered about, and she had no intention of submitting to such treatment. Most certainly not by a dirty cowhand. “I will not. This is my room and I’ll—”

“Leave, or I’ll kill you.”

Trinity palmed his gun, pointed it at Myra’s head, and pulled the hammer back.

“You touch me and—”

The deafening roar of a gun being fired in the close confines of the room startled the occupants. They gaped in disbelief when the coil of ebony hair at the side of Myra’s face exploded into tiny fragments which scattered all over the room like a cloud of lint. Myra nearly collapsed with terror, her face dead white under her makeup. She stared at the man, unbelieving, uncomprehending, then fled the room.

Kirby ran after her.

That was Judge Blazer’s wife,” the doctor informed him, horrified. “He’ll hang you for that.”

“What do you do for poison?” the man asked, turning back to Victoria.

“There’s no question of bad food. The sheriff says—”

“She was poisoned,” he stated. “That’s Queenie. She poisoned my father.”

The doctor gaped at Trinity.

“She was poisoned. See she doesn’t die, or I’ll kill you and Queenie both. I’ll kill the Judge if I have to.”

The doctor swallowed. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re mistaken about that woman. She’s not your Queenie, whoever she might be. She is Myra Winslow Blazer, Judge Blazer’s wife. Everybody in town knows she’s been trying to take care of this young woman.

“When she refused to leave the jail, she had a bed and many of her things taken over to the jail. She even had the hotel prepare her meals. Good God, man, you can’t expect me to believe she would poison her own daughter-in-law.”

“Believe it,” Trinity said. “Your life depends on it. What are the most common poisons around here?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“Then think of it now.”

“I suppose you can buy several kinds of preparations for—”

“No. Plants. Something you can find growing in a garden or along a stream in spring.”

“There are lots of those.”

“Which ones would produce these symptoms?”

“I can’t say for sure. I would have to know the dose, how long ago it was given—”

“Guess, goddamnit! That’s all we’ve got time for. What would be the most likely?”

“I suppose something like deadly nightshade. Maybe horse nettle or jimsonweed. They’re all pretty much the same. They have the same symptoms.”

“That’s it then.”

“If you’re wrong …”

“She’s going to die if you don’t do something.”

“Yes, I expect she will.”

“Go ahead. At least this will give her a chance.”

The doctor began to search the inner recesses of his bag. “I still must protest your notion that Mrs. Blazer is in any way responsible for this.”

“I don’t care what you believe as long as you save Victoria.”

“I shall do my best.”

“And don’t tell Queenie I know who she is.”

The doctor started to protest, but the expression on Trinity’s face stopped him. “No, I won’t tell her.”

Five minutes later, someone pounded on the door. When Trinity opened it, an irate Sheriff Sprague tried to barge into the room. Trinity blocked his path.

“Now look here, Smith,” the sheriff said, “I know you’re upset about this young woman, but you can’t go running people like Mrs. Blazer out of her room.”

There are other rooms” Trinity said, slamming the door shut.

There came a furious knocking. Trinity opened the door again.

“But she’s Judge Blazer’s wife.”

Trinity drew his gun and placed the end of the barrel against the patch of skin between Sheriff Sprague’s eyes. He drew back the hammer. “Don’t bother us again.”

The sheriff staggered back against the far wall. Trinity closed the door and locked it.

There were no more knocks.

An hour later, the doctor took Victoria’s pulse once again. “It’s come down some. It’s still terribly elevated, but there’s nothing more I can do for her. If it’s one of the poisons I mentioned, she has a chance. If not, my treatment has been entirely useless.”

“It was poison,” Trinity assured him.

The doctor looked unconvinced. “I hope I got here in time.” He gathered everything into his bag and put on his coat. “Now we have to wait and see what her own body can do.”

“How long?”

“I can’t say. If she’s alive in the morning, I think she’ll pull through. I have other calls to make, but I’ll come by as often as lean.”

The door opened after a single warning knock. Doctor Roundtree entered and approached the bedside to check Victoria. A young man accompanied him. Trinity didn’t look up.

“Will she live?” the young man asked.

“I don’t know,” the doctor replied.