Breathe: A Novel of Colorado (50 page)

She turned back to the doorway and admired the sun beginning
its slow descent down toward Eagle Peak, dusted from a high mountain snowstorm, even in the middle of summer. Briefly she mused over
the men and horses up in the meadows of those mountains, but she
knew they were well versed in the shenanigans of mountain weather.
High clouds caught the first hints of a setting sun, turning a lovely gold
against a brilliantly blue sky. Odessa took a deep breath, thanking God
for this place and time to find healing, love, a new home. This was just
where she needed to be, as healthy as the mares in the fields.

She opened the back door and brought the sacks of flour into
the kitchen, kicking the door shut with her foot. She set them down
and then filled a bucket of water from the hand pump, then turned
to chop some carrots and potatoes. The blade was dull and broken in places, no sort of proper instrument for one bent on making a quick
and hearty stew-and she had no time to waste. She wiped her hands
on her apron and went to the front door, where she kept her purse.
Inside was her pocketknife, a gift from her father. It was too small for
chopping, but too small was certainly better than too dull. Maybe
Bryce would remember to purchase a few new knives for her in town
next time he went, or get the old ones sharpened.

Odessa walked into the hallway and halted in confusion.

Slowly, fear took hold. The front door was wide open, with
muddy footprints leading inward. She leaned down, gazing at the
tracks against the fading light from the window, hoping they were
only her own, telling herself they were.

But her prints were beside them, much smaller than the others.
These new tracks led away, to the stairs. Bryce was in the stables-and
he never came in with muddy boots. The carpenters or ranch hands
would not come in without invitation. Once home, Bryce had sent
Peter and Nels after a floundering mare in the north quadrant....

She straightened quickly, trying to control her breathing, to not
give in to panic, feeling already the familiar constriction across her
chest. If she had an attack now, there would be no way for her to
escape. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Bryce had returned from the
stables....

She called her husband's name, trying to make her voice light.

No response. But a floorboard creaked directly above her.

And then another in the spare room. Someone else was in their
bedroom.

She backed into the parlor, where Bryce had so recently been
pounding nails into wallboards.

It was then Odessa knew fear more potent than any consumptive attack had ever brought on. It was the same as the night that Sam
had been killed, back at the sanatorium.

Her enemies were here. In the house.

She could feel them.

And this time, they were coming for her.

The men tore down the stairs and Odessa lost a precious second or
two trying to think, torn between escape and the rifle, which was
still on the kitchen counter. She could get out of the house, get to
the stables, find Bryce, or if he wasn't there, mount Ebony and ride
to the men in the north quadrant. Or if she could reach the rifle,
she could hold them off, even force them outside, but that might
endanger Bryce.

That was when she caught sight of her husband, walking down
the hill from the stables. He was coming. She had to warn him. Had
to reach him.

One man was already halfway down the stairs. She caught a
glimpse of his hulking form as she narrowly avoided the other man
reaching for her. She heard the slam of the front door as she ran into
the dining room, the kitchen, then toward the back door ... freedom.
Too far to reach the rifle, she had to get out, make the door.

A man reached her then, grabbed her around the waist and
pulled her back roughly. She tried to scream, but his hand was there,
covering her mouth. She writhed and kicked, but he easily picked
her up into the air and pulled her backward, out of sight of the
kitchen window and her husband.

"Shh," the man said, "Odessa, quiet down now or we'll have to
kill your husband as soon as he walks in that door."

She stilled. Who was this? Who would dare to steal into her
house? Who knew her name? And moreover, who would threaten to
kill Bryce? She stared at the back door in horror, praying that Bryce
would be distracted, remember something he needed back in the
stables ...

It was then she saw the doctor in the corner of her eye, in the
corner of the kitchen, arms folded across his chest. Doctor Morton
from the sanatorium. All at once she remembered what was familiar
about this man holding her. She didn't need to turn to recognize
him.

It was Sheriff Reid Bannock who held her and threatened her
husband. Reid!

"I think you know why we're here, Odessa," he said lowly in her
ear. "You stole something out of the sanatorium. The good doctor
wants it back."

Doctor Morton moved to a window and peered out. "Looks
like Bryce has been waylaid. He's heading back to the stables." He
motioned to others behind Reid that she couldn't see. "Go. Make
sure no one interrupts us."

Odessa closed her eyes, half in praise that God had heard her
prayers, half in utter terror that her husband was not coming to
her rescue.

"Don't scream," Reid said in her ear. "If you don't scream and
you cooperate, you'll live to the end of your natural days in this
house."

He let his hand fall an inch from her mouth, testing her. He left
his arm around her waist, holding her in place.

But Odessa was staring at the doctor, the diminutive, kind doctor of the sanatorium. She shook her head in disbelief. "Not you.
You can't possibly be in on this. Tell me you're not."

"Odessa," he said. "Please. Forgive us for frightening you. All
we need is the document you obtained from Sam. Sam died owing
the sanatorium a good amount of money. It is ours legally. By rights.
And it will go a ways in rectifying his accounts."

"I have nothing to give you. And Bryce rectified his accounts while
we were still patients at the sanatorium." She shook her head. "You
murdered Sam," she said softly. "Or had him murdered. I heard it."

"Murder? That's a tall accusation," Reid said, releasing her.

She whirled and took a step away from him, but he reached out
and grabbed her arm as if to say no, not too far.

"The ears can play tricks," Reid said, "especially as ill as you were
about that time. Though I must say you're not looking ill any longer.
Marriage agrees with you, Odessa. I once had ideas of marrying your
sister ..." He reached out as if to touch her face and she backed away
again, but he pulled her back roughly against his chest.

"Sheriff," warned the doctor. He looked at Odessa. "We need the
document. If you give it to us, we will not file our suit against you
and your husband."

"File suit?" she scoffed. "Sam left it for me, not you. He owed
you nothing. He paid a good deal to the sanatorium, more than
enough to cover the care he received."

"And how is it, my dear, that you would know such a thing?" He
stepped toward her now from the other side.

"It matters not."

"No? Could it be that you broke into the office and looked at
private documents?"

She said nothing.

"Sheriff, is that not a punishable offense?"

"Breaking and entering," he said, grinning down at her in delight.
"I'd say that'd do it."

"Not that you would have found anything illegal, had you been
reading our files," said the doctor. "Everything we do is perfectly
legal."

She leveled a look of disbelief at him. "So what are you doing
here, a day's journey from the Springs, in my house?" She looked
up to the sheriff. "And you. Just because you are a sheriff does not
make you immune to the law. Speaking of breaking and entering ...
you broke into my house, threatened me. I can press charges of my
own."

He smiled down at her, unperturbed. "The door was open. And
we are merely encouraging you to relinquish what is ours. Maybe
you found that document in the administrator's office. Maybe it was
in the file and you stole it."

"I stole nothing," she spat. "It's mine. Sam left it for me!" She
regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

"So you do have it," Reid said. He lifted her chin. "You know we
will not leave without it. Go and fetch it. Now."

She glanced at the doctor, vainly hoping for help, but he stared
back at her with the same steely determination as the sheriff. "And
if I do not?"

"Come, Odessa. This need not be difficult. Give us the document and we will be on our way. You can resume your life."

"You'll simply walk away?"

He continued to smile. "Go and retrieve the document. Quickly now, before your husband tries to return. It will be easier for all if we
can see this through without further ... discussions."

Odessa hesitated. Bryce would be back any minute. They all
knew it. But she would die if anything happened to him, if she were
the cause of it. And there were two of them, both carrying a gun.
Two others outside, between any of the ranch hands and the house.
Chances were good that Bryce would be injured in a gunfight. She
had to get them to leave, right away. "Sam's note is gone. It was
destroyed in the water when Helen and I were chased, presumably
by your men."

Dr. Morton studied her. "We are merely here to claim what
rightfully belongs to the sanatorium."

"Of course," Odessa nodded. "You don't want to confess to
sending killers after us."

Dr. Morton sniffed. "Please, Odessa. Since you stole the
note-

"I stole no note. It was left for me. Handed to Bryce for me by an
attorney. It had my name on it! The lawyer can testify to it!"

The doctor reached up to tap his finger to a lip. "I believe Sam
O'Toole hired an attorney I know-and he moved away about three
weeks ago." He looked to the sheriff. "Did he mention where he was
moving, Sheriff?"

"Don't believe he did."

"Pity, that. There goes your alibi. Meanwhile, my night nurse
and attendant are prepared to testify to seeing you steal out of the
administrator's office. We still have yet to determine what all you
took from the files." He raised one eyebrow. "Perhaps there was more
than just one document."

Odessas mouth dropped open. "What? They did not see me
anywhere near the hall! I took nothing!"

He stepped toward her and lifted a hand in an amiable gesture.
"Ah, you are not very good at this game, Odessa; obviously, you did
manage to make your way in. Come now, this does not need to be
as messy for you as it has for others. I presume Sam left directions to
his mine? I'm afraid I hadn't had the opportunity to carefully study
his file before," he paused to cough, "you visited the administrator's
office."

"I told you, he left me the document."

"And for your sake, I do hope you remember what was on it if
it, as you say, no longer exists. He gave you directions to find his
mine?"

"He said nothing so specific."

"What did he say, exactly?"

Odessa hesitated, but Reid pulled a revolver from his holster and
removed the safety, then casually lifted it to point at her. With shaking voice she recited, "`Find two forgotten men desperate for drink,
perched over a river winding, never to reach-"'

"He left a poem?"

"Of sorts."

A horse whinnied outside and Reid moved to the front window.
"One of your ranch hands is coming." He glanced at the doctor.
"Think he spied our horses up on the hill?"

The doctor looked nonplussed, but didn't answer. "The men are
still out there. Whoever approaches must appear harmless."

She glanced out and frowned. If one was coming, where were the
others? "It's Nels. He probably just wants to tell me what's keeping Bryce and ask about supper." She swallowed hard, again thinking
that she might be the cause of an innocent man's death. "I can send
him away."

Reid studied her. "Do it." He pointed toward the door with the
gun. "Carefully."

Odessa turned and walked to the front door. When she laid her
hand on the knob, she felt the cold steel of the gun tip between her ribs.
Reid was at her side, behind the door, and Odessa opened it, peeking
out. "Evening, Nels!" she called, as he rode up. "How did it go in the
north quarter?"

The thin man gazed up at her with a shy grin but slowly shifted
his eyes to the crack in the door. "Mare's back on her feet. Much
improved. Came to tell you Bryce is just getting her settled in the
stables and then we'll be in."

"Oh, biscuits won't be done yet, I'm afraid. Please tell Bryce that
it'll be another half an hour-and that I'd love it if he took a look at
Ebony. She threw a shoe when we were out."

"We'll do that, ma'am," he said, searching her eyes.

"Thank you. I'll see you in a bit." She forced a smile and shut the
door, then looked up at Reid.