Beyond Betrayal (13 page)

Eve turned toward Matt. "Sheriff Chambers," she said, extending her right hand to him. "I can't thank you enough for escorting my sister to me."

Delilah felt Matt's gaze touch on her before returning to Eve, but did her best to ignore her awareness of him. Studiously avoiding eye contact, she focused instead on the exchange taking place between him and Eve. Matt accepted her sister's hand, his much larger one virtually swallowing Eve's. "Don't mention it, ma'am," he said.

And then, with a glance toward the man with whom he'd been speaking earlier, he took the conversation in another direction. "Steve tells me Powell quit.” Eve nodded but didn't have the opportunity to respond before Matt continued. "With Tom still laid up, it's going to be pretty tough going for you, isn't it?"

"I'm a lot stronger than I look, Sheriff. I'll be fine. But thank you for your concern."

Chambers studied her for a moment with the same dark steely gaze that so easily disrupted Delilah's equilibrium. Eve seemed remarkably unaffected, and Delilah's respect for her sister's new found inner strength rose another notch. With a sharp nod, Matt finally accepted her assertion and said, "Jim tells me you haven't had any more problems with rustlers recently?"

Eve shook her head. "The additional twenty head we lost last week was the last straw. All totaled, we've lost more than half the herd we had left. I ordered the few head we still have herded into the corrals every night for safety. I can't afford to lose any more."

I
can't? Delilah studied her sister, wondering at the solitary nature of her statement.

"Have you made any progress in finding out who's behind it?" Eve asked.

"Some, ma'am. But I'm sorry to say not enough. This isn't just a few drovers out to make themselves some easy money.” Matt stared thoughtfully down the valley. "I wanted to speak with Powell," he said a moment later. "Don't suppose you could tell me where I might find him?"

"Jim?" Eve looked toward the Indian.

"Last I heard he was workin' at the Lazy M," Eagle Shadow said. His words positively dripped ice. Then, without another word, he turned and vaulted over the corral railing, apparently deciding to return to his work. After favoring the sheriff with a brief wave, Steve Wright followed in his wake.

Chambers looked at Eve. "What's goin' on here, Mrs. Cameron?"

"Well, Sheriff, it's pretty simple really. There are a lot of things that Powell doesn't like, and he seemed to find most of those things on my ranch."

"And what might those be."

Eve shrugged. "Indians. Chinese people. And women who can give orders when necessary."

Sheriff Chambers nodded. "I see."

"Oh, my," Eve suddenly said. "In the excitement, I've forgotten my manners. Would you like a glass of lemonade, Sheriff? Fong usually keeps a couple of jars cooling in the well."

"That sounds real good, ma'am, but McTaggart lost some head the other night, so I still have some business to do over at the Lazy M. I want to get back to Red Rock by tonight. I appreciate the offer just the same."

"In that case, you'll probably be riding by here right about supper time," Eve deduced. "Why don't you at least let me offer you the hospitality of our supper table?"

The sheriff flicked a glance Delilah's way before responding. "I'd like that, ma'am," he said with a nod. "If I happen to be goin' by about that time, I'd sure like to take you up on it."

"Good.” Eve smiled. "Then we'll be expecting you."

Delilah frowned inwardly. She sincerely wished Eve had not invited the sheriff to supper. She'd hoped to be free of his disturbing presence for a time. Still, she could always pray he wouldn't show.

Chambers doffed his hat to Eve, then turned his potent gaze on Delilah. "It was a pleasure riding with you, ma'am," he said, tipping his hat respectfully.

"Sheriff.” Delilah favored him with a dignified nod. "I do hope you catch those rustlers. And, thank you for your escort."

"My pleasure ma'am," he said as he turned to Goliath.

He winced slightly as he mounted and concern made her speak without thinking, calling, "Sheriff. . ." just as he was about to turn his horse. He halted, and she felt his gaze on her from beneath the shadowed brim of his hat as he waited for her to continue. Suddenly, however, she didn't know what to say. She couldn't very well demand to see his ribs again now. "Take care of those ribs," she concluded weakly.

He acknowledged her statement with a sharp nod, before reining Goliath around and urging him into a gallop.

"What happened to his ribs?" Eve asked, drawing Delilah's eyes from the rapidly dwindling figure.

"He was attacked by a mountain lion early this morning.” Seeing the expression of dawning horror in Eve's eyes, and interpreting it, Delilah hastened to reassure her. "It happened before we met. I was in no danger."

"Well, thank goodness for that," she breathed.

Eve looked toward Jackpot. "I'll just have Mr. Wright take care of your horse, and then I'll take you on up to the house.” Suiting action to words, she turned and shouted her request.

"Sure thing, ma'am," Wright replied.

That taken care of, Eve threaded her arm through Delilah's and began moving toward the house. Delilah took only two steps before she was brought up short by a sharp yap. "Oh, heavens! I forgot Poochie."

"Poochie?" Eve echoed as they turned. Poopsy was dividing her attention between the mistress who'd almost forgotten her, and the cattle dog which, having now discovered the origin of the barking that had momentarily made him question the world he knew, sat gazing up at her. "When did you get a dog?"

"It's a long story," Delilah replied as they walked back to Jackpot. "I'll tell you later.” Liberating Poopsy, she retrieved her saddlebags, settled them over her shoulder, and pulled the Winchester from its scabbard. "There, that should do it."

Minutes later, she and Eve were ensconced at a large, scarred, wooden table sharing glasses of cool lemonade while the Chinese gentleman that Eve had introduced as Fong bustled around Eve's kitchen preparing what looked to be a huge meal in a large wood-burning stove. Fong was quite small for a man, scarcely five feet tall—if that—with ageless skin, sharp-sighted, almond-shaped black eyes and short gunmetal grey hair. Clothed entirely in black, he sported a wispy goatee' on his chin, sandals on otherwise bare feet, and a singing voice that sounded like nothing so much as rusty hinges. Still, he didn't seem to notice his melodic deficiency for he sang, hummed, or talked to himself almost continuously as he worked.

Poopsy having drunk her fill of water and been fed some scraps by Fong, lay on the floor beneath the table, sound asleep.

Delilah looked around. Since her previous visit with Eve had taken place in Jackson, Wyoming where Delilah had been living briefly, this was the first time she'd seen Eve's home. She decided she rather liked the rustic charm of the log house.

In the center of the table, a canning jar performed the function of a vase, brightening the small house with a profusion of spring wildflowers. A large hewn stone fireplace occupied the wall opposite the kitchen stove so that in winter the home could be heated from both sides of the room. A rocking chair, sewing basket, and pile of mending rested on a rag rug before the fireplace. Above the fireplace an old Springfield rifle, no doubt brought home from the Civil War by one of Tom's relatives, rested on the mantle.

To the right of the fireplace was the front door, leading to the forward veranda that stretched the entire width of the house. A back door, located next to the stove, exited onto a large enclosed porch which doubled as a pantry and a place to wash up before meals. The porch was even equipped with the convenience of an indoor pump to bring cold water directly from the well.

Access to the bedrooms was gained through either of two doors in the wall at Delilah's back. Though she'd seen neither chamber as yet, she decided that, all in all, it was a very nice home.

"So," Eve said, smiling across the table at her. "Oh, Delilah, I'm so glad you're here.” But Delilah noted that the smile trembled on her lips and didn't quite reach her eyes. In fact, she looked on the verge of tears.

And instead of offering her solace, Delilah had to tell her that she didn't yet have the funds to help her. The thought made her want to weep herself, but instead she returned Eve's smile and said nothing. She dared not speak freely, for she didn't know how much Fong knew, nor how much Tom might overhear. "Where is Tom?" she asked by way of making conversation. "I haven't hugged the man who stole my sister's heart yet."

A shadow briefly darkened Eve's brilliant green eyes. "He's resting," she replied. "But I'm sure he'll do his best to be up for supper.” After a brief pause she said, "Let's go out on the front porch where we can enjoy the sunshine and not disturb him with our chatter."

For a long time they simply sat side by side on a wooden bench enjoying the sights and sounds of the ranch in the bright afternoon. Then Delilah found the courage to speak. "Your letter caught me at a bad time, Eve. I've had a run of bad luck, and my stake is sadly depleted. I've convinced Miss Cora to let me operate a gaming table at the Lucky Strike, and I believe I can have the money for you when you need it, but it means I can't stay here with you as long as I'd like."

Eve nodded. "Sure. That's fine," she murmured softly. Then, afraid her words may have been misinterpreted, she hastily amended. "I mean I'm disappointed, of course but I might be able to get away to come into town occasionally."

Delilah scrutinized her. "That's not it, is it?"

Eve took a deep breath and stared out at the corrals. "What do you mean?"

"The money's not what's bothering you, is it?"

For a time, Eve made no response, then she shook her head. "No. It isn't."

Delilah placed her hand on her sister's shoulder. "What is it, Evie? Talk to me."

Eve took another long shaky breath before responding. "I think Tom may be dying, Delilah."

Delilah's eyes widened in shock, and she set her almost-empty lemonade glass down on the weathered floorboards of the front porch with exaggerated care. "Why? What happened?"

"His leg was broken very badly. The thigh bone pierced the skin. Doc Hale set it, but it never healed properly.” She paused, swallowing audibly. "After about three weeks, the doctor told Tom that the leg needed to be amputated before the infection that was keeping it from healing began to spread, but Tom absolutely refused. He said he'd kill any man who took his leg, and despise me forever if I allowed it done. He said he'd rather be dead than live as half a man."

"Oh, my Lord!"

"Between Fong and I, we've kept the leg clean and disinfected with whiskey, just like mother always said. I keep hoping the doctor was wrong. But I'm beginning to think that all I've managed to do is to prolong the inevitable. The leg looks. . . horrible, and Tom is getting weaker by the day now."

For the first time since they'd moved outside, Eve turned to look at her. "I didn't know what to do, Delilah, so I stood by Tom. Either way, I lose my husband, but I couldn't bear his hatred. Did I do the right thing?"

Unable to answer that question, Delilah swept her sister into her arms. Stroking Eve's tawny tresses, she murmured, "I don't know sweetheart. Only you and Tom can know what's right for the two of you."

"But I don't know. That's the problem," Eve said over her shoulder. Delilah sensed the tension in her, the rigid control that locked in her pain. Eve lifted her head look at her. "Perhaps if I'd argued with him just one more day I might have finally changed his mind. Or, if I'd gone against him, he might eventually have forgiven me. Now. . . now it's too late to change course. All I can do is hope and pray."

Delilah clutched her close again and closed her eyes. God help her, she didn't know what to say. Swallowing, she found words and prayed they were the right ones. "Then perhaps you should concentrate on cherishing the time you have left," she murmured hesitantly. "Build a memory strong enough to last you a lifetime, and. . . let him go."

Eve sniffled, caught her breath in an attempt to control the emotion and then, as though Delilah's words had shattered the dam that held back the floodgates of her misery, she began to sob. Delilah ached with her, for her, yet she could do nothing but hold her and offer her the solace of her love.

Moments later, Eve pulled out of Delilah's embrace and dried her eyes on the bandanna she'd worn about her neck. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to do that."

"Nonsense! You needed to do that. You can't keep it all bottled up."

Eve swallowed and sniffed. "You know what bothers me the most?"

Delilah shook her head.

"That we didn't have any children. We wanted one so badly, but it just never seemed to happen. We thought we had lots of time, so we didn't really worry about it. But now that time is gone, and I don't even have Tom's child to hold.” Another silent sob gripped her, and her shoulders quaked. "Why couldn't the Lord leave me with at least that much of the man I love?" she whispered.

Feeling incapable of easing her sister's pain, Delilah shook her head in misery. "I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know."

They fell silent for a while, each staring out at the bright spring day but seeing only shadows. Delilah was worried about her. After a time, she asked, "How will you manage if Tom goes, Eve? Will you move to town?” But she knew as soon as she voiced the question what the answer would be. The Eve she'd known a year ago might have moved to town, but not this newly determined young woman at her side.