Dangerous Heart (15 page)

That was just about the last thing Ginger wanted to do. She'd seen enough death. Dale would have to do without her. “I'll say goodbye another time. Right now, I have to get the fire built back up so that we can get that soup boiling again.”

His expression drooped. “I don't much like that soup, Miss Ginger. I'm fixin' to go to the river and catch us some fish.”

“There's some stew.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don't much care for it, neither. Ate it for breakfast.”

“It's kind of cold to be fishing. You think they'll bite?”

“Sure they will!”

“All right, Yuley,” she said, dropping the wood to the ground by the fire. “I'll tell you what: if you catch some fish and clean it by the river, I'll cook it for your supper.” She nodded toward the pot of stew. “But if you don't catch any, you have to have a bowl of that stew. You need to keep up your strength.”

He frowned, clearly weighing his odds. Then he nodded. “Thank you, Miss Ginger. I'll do it.” He started to dash off, then turned back to her. He closed the distance between them in a few lanky strides. “Forget something, Yuley?”

“I got to tell you something.”

“What is it, Yuley?”

“I can't be an outlaw no more.”

“You can't?” Ginger held back the smile lurking at the
corners of her lips. The thought of Yuley as an outlaw was just silly.

“Miss Sadie says it ain't right.”

Ginger took a breath and released it in a cloud of frigid air. Land sakes, Miss Sadie ought not to say things like that, right in the midst of outlaws. She could get herself hurt. Or worse, if she angered someone like Lane. He'd put a bullet into her without thinking twice. “I suppose it's not right, but no one is going to hold it against you.”

“I just want to do what's right. Like Miss Sadie.”

How could she encourage him to stay with this band of thugs if she herself had no intention of staying? “It's okay, Yuley. You don't have to be an outlaw anymore if you don't want to.” And then an idea hit her that was so ridiculous in its simplicity that she had no idea if it would work or not. “How would you like to go to Oregon with me?”

“I think I'd like that fine.” A slow grin spread across his face and before she knew what was happening, he swooped her up into a tight hug that lifted her clean off her feet. “You won't change your mind will you?”

“Of course not. I want you to come with me and Buddy. It'll be like having two brothers again.”

“That'd be good. I ain't never had a sister.”

“Well, now you will. What about those fish? If you don't hurry up, they're going to think you don't want a fish dinner, and they'll all swim away.”

“Aw, Miss Ginger, you're teasin' me.”

Chuckling, he moved off toward the saddlebag that held all of his belongings, including his fishing tackle. Walking
toward the river, he turned and gave her a hardy wave.

Ginger grinned and shook her head, staring after him. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to find Web coming. He stopped when he reached a rough-hewn bench. Sweat dotted his forehead, despite the frigid air. Miss Sadie was right. Sickness had somehow caught Web, and if he didn't do something about it fast, he'd be swallowed up in death.

Web nodded toward Yuley. “You got a special way with him, you know. Always did.”

She shrugged. “Yuley's a good boy.”

“I heard what you said to him about going to Oregon with you and Buddy.”

Ginger raised her chin. “That's right. He wants to stop riding with you, because he doesn't feel right about it anymore. I've seen you let men walk out of the gang before with no hard feelings. Surely you won't stop Yuley.”

He pursed his lips and gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “
He
can go if he wants. I only kept him around for his brother's sake, anyhow.”

Something in the way he stressed
he
wrapped a tight fist of dread around Ginger's gut. “But not me or Buddy?”

“Like I said, we got one more job to do; then I'll let you go.”

Summoning courage she didn't even know if she possessed, she stared into Web's eyes. “I'm not doing any jobs. We agreed after Clem died that I didn't have to help after that. I can't steal anymore than I could kill Grant. I'm not the same as I used to be. I've been around folks that work hard for a living. Folks that care about each other. And I like them. I'm not stealing from them.”

“Look, I know I didn't give you the chance to be around decent folks much. And maybe I was wrong for that.”

Anytime Web admitted to any wrongdoing, he was probably lying through his teeth. He didn't have a sincere bone in his body and everyone knew it. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but Miss Sadie's words came back to her in a flash. She swallowed her skepticism and tried to wipe the disbelief from her face. “Well, I'll be around decent folks from now on. And so will Buddy. So don't fret about it.”

“Look, girl.” His graying eyebrows shoved together in a deep frown. “You're gonna have to do what I say, or you might get into more trouble than you bargained for.”

“Like being forced to marry the likes of Lane Conner?”

“You know about that?”

“Lane told me.” She gave him a pointed look. “And he kissed me, against my will and threatened to do more than that.”

Anger flashed in his eyes again. This time directed toward Lane.

“Lane knows I'm sick. I'm tryin' to make sure you're looked after when I'm gone.”

“Miss Sadie told me about that, Web. I'm truly sorry you're not well, but I can't marry Lane. I can hardly tolerate ten minutes anywhere near him. Besides, if I married Lane, I'd probably have to shoot him within a year.”

“Let me tell you about the job.”

“Not that I have a choice.”

“Elijah's been writing letters to a man in California. A man that struck it rich in the gold mines.”

“I don't know what you're getting at, Web.”

“Well, hush up and listen, and you will.”

Same old Web.

“He wrote some real fancy, pretty letters, if you know what I mean.”

“What for?” Ginger's mind tried to wrap around the point Web was trying to make, but just why Elijah would write fancy, pretty letters to a man in California didn't make any sense whatsoever. Unless…Ginger shoved to her feet. “Do you mean Elijah answered a rich man's advertisement for a wife?”

His face brightened. “I always said you was a bright girl.”

“It appears I'm the only bright one around here,” she mumbled. “That's about the dumbest idea I've ever heard. How did you plan on…” And then she knew. “Elijah pretended to be me, didn't he?”

“That's right. Now you're catchin' on.” He looked so pleased with himself, Ginger realized this must have been his bright idea in the first place. “Tell me about the plan.”

Reaching into his pocket, Web drew out a fistful of letters. Ginger took the dirty envelopes. “I figure Elijah's about dead. I took these from his bag.”

Ginger gave the handful a cursory glance and sniffed. “Letters from the man in California, I take it.”

“Yep.” Web beamed with pride. “You read them letters and see what I mean. I need you to meet him, and we'll take it from there.”

“I don't see how my meeting him will give you the opportunity to rob him. For this big a job, you have something more in mind. This is a little too easy.”

He gave a sigh of resignation. “Okay. You might have to marry him. But it'd only be for a little while.”

Horror filled Ginger. “What? Marry him! Web, are you crazy? First you want me to marry Lane; now you want me to marry this fellow in California? Do you want me to live with them both at the same time?”

Instead of boxing her ears for her impertinence, Web grinned, showing a mouthful of mostly missing teeth. “Feisty, aren't ya? After we get his money, we'll leave California, and you won't have nothing to worry about.”

“I'd still be married.”

“Only if you look at it that way. That's up to you.”

“It's the way it would be, Web. No matter how I look at it. God would see me as married to that man. You really want to force me to do that, just so you can line your pockets?”

“You know I don't cotton to talk about God.” A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. A sign Ginger recognized as Web nearing the end of his patience. “Just read those letters. You just might like the man's pretty words.”

“How would you know what they say?”

“Elijah read 'em to us.”

“But how did they get back and forth so quick?”

Clearly at the end of his patience, Web struggled to his feet and towered over her. “I ain't askin', Ginger. If you want to leave us, this is your chance. You do one job for us, and you, Buddy, and Yuley are free to go. If you don't…well, let's just say, you won't be goin' anywhere.”

“You're threatening your own daughter?”

“I don't want to. But you forced me to it. Now you simmer
down and do as you're told, and before long, you'll be free.”

He moved away, and Ginger faced her first test as the new person she'd become. The opportunity to gain her freedom or staying true to the new feelings of truth and goodness inside.

Was there anything in the Bible about how to get out of this mess? If only she could ask Miss Sadie about it. A sigh escaped her as she sat on the bench and opened the first letter.

Ginger frowned and reread the first part of the letter. Clearly, Elijah had been pulling a job of his own. One that had nothing to do with a man in California. Indignation shot through her. How dare he? Web wouldn't know any better.

A chill scurried up her spine and she shuddered. Her eyes skimmed the rest of the letter, and when she reached the last words, a gasp tore through her throat.

Grant had that unsettling feeling someone was watching him even before he opened his eyes and confirmed the truth. He sat up on his pallet and came face-to-face with Buddy Freeman.

He frowned through a pounding headache. “Buddy? What are you doing?”

The boy ducked his head. “Mr. Tanner asked me to come find you. I hated to wake you up. But you've been sleeping since the church meeting this morning and it's almost suppertime.”

“What's the problem?”

“Soldiers from Fort Boise rode in a couple of hours ago.”

“So why call for the doctor? Are they sick?”

Buddy shrugged. “I don't know, sir.”

“All right,” Grant said, standing. He tried to shake off the clutter in his brain. Four hours wasn't enough sleep when it was all he'd had per night for over a week. What he wouldn't give to lie down again and sleep for a solid twelve hours. He knew he'd feel like a new man. He released a breath. But a person didn't ignore the wagon master when he called. So he ignored the ache in his muscles, the queasiness of his stom
ach, and the pain in his head, and inched his way to the tent flap, fighting dizziness.

“Doctor Kelley? Are you feeling okay?”

A spasm seized his gut. “I'm fine,” he gasped out. But he wasn't. So much for the disease coming to an abrupt end. The worst thing for a doctor was coming down with his patients' disease and being unable to help those who still needed him. “Buddy, please ask Mrs. Kane to come see me. And tell Blake I'm not going to be able to meet with him.” He took hold of Buddy's arm just before he could dash out to do what he'd been told. “Don't mention anything about sickness in front of the soldiers. We don't want to risk them getting jittery about the wagon train and not allowing us to winter at the fort even after cholera is over.”

Another wave of dizziness swept over him. He backtracked to his pallet and fell across the blankets, fighting hard to keep from retching. “Buddy, hand me the black bag and that bucket.”

The boy's eyes were wide as he brought the items. He opened the bag without being told and lifted out the quinine. “Is this what you're wanting?”

“Yes. Thanks. Please, go get Amanda Kane and tell Blake I'm not coming.”

Grant took a dose of quinine and prayed it would begin to work quickly. One thing was for certain—by tomorrow night, he would either be dead or getting better. That was the nature of cholera. It came on suddenly and killed quickly and violently. Grant had seen the killer strike more times than he cared to count. Only now it was personal. He was
the one lying sick retching violently, and soon it would be even worse and he wouldn't be able to get off his mat. As a matter of fact, even now, he felt the need to stay put. His limbs were shaky and weak and he shivered under his blanket, hands and feet freezing as though he were walking barefoot in those snow-covered mountains to the west.

All he wanted to do was sleep. Then he wouldn't feel so bad. If he could lose consciousness for a few hours and allow the quinine a chance to go to work for him, maybe he'd wake up on his way to becoming well again.

 

Proper or no, Ginger slammed into the men's tent, letter in hand. “Elijah!” she hollered. “Wake up, you varmint and tell me what this means.”

Greely, one of the lucky men that made it through the sickness, sat up. “Shut your trap, Ginger. We need our rest.”

“It's all right.” Elijah sat up, wrapping his blanket around his rail-thin shoulders. Ginger nearly gasped at his appearance. How could a man be reduced from vibrant and vital to a skeleton so quickly?

“I have to talk to you about these letters.” She shoved them toward him but kept all three firmly clutched in her hands.

Greeley and Ames laughed. Sickness sure hadn't scared the meanness out of them.

“Web finally let you in on the new plan, huh?” Ames asked.

Elijah slowly shoved to his feet and clutched her arm. “Let's go outside.”

Glaring, Ginger jerked away with such force, Elijah teetered between his toes and heels and almost fell. She grabbed onto his arm. “You okay?”

“Just a little dizzy.” His eyes pleaded, and he shifted his gaze quickly between the other men and Ginger, as though trying to convey something private. “Can we go out and talk about those letters?”

Intrigued, Ginger nodded and they stepped outside, Elijah trembling and moving slowly. Ginger shook, as well, but from anticipation. What on earth was going on?

Elijah took Ginger by the elbow and led her to the bench Yuley had constructed. A puff of air left his lungs as he dropped to the seat. “I take it you've read the letters?”

Tears blurred Ginger's vision as she nodded. “What does this mean?”

Tenderly he took her hand and cradled it between his clammy palms. “Clem and I were in prison together.”

All of Ginger's strength left her and she didn't even have the energy to pull her hand free, which is what instinct dictated. “But I saw him die seven years ago.”

“No. He was wounded badly, but there was a doctor on the stagecoach that removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding. Your brother said the Marshal aboard wanted to leave him, but the doc refused to go without him, so they loaded him into the stage and took him back to the nearest town.”

“I just can't believe it. Then why didn't he get in touch?”

“The way your pa moves around, he knew a letter would never reach you. Besides, he thought it best if Web thought
he was dead. He wanted to leave the gang and plans to stay dead, as far as your pa is concerned.”

Ginger's head swam as her brain fought to catch up. “Where is he?”

“He's still in prison in St. Louis. He's set to get out in a few months and plans to meet up with you and Buddy in Oregon. I was supposed to come find you.”

“But when you found Web, I wasn't with the gang.”

“Yes. The only way I could find out where you were without raising Web's suspicion was to insinuate I knew a rich man who was looking for a wife.”

Amused, Ginger couldn't help a short laugh. “What did you plan to do once you found me? Come up with a fake rich man from California?”

“When we get to Fort Boise, I planned to fake a telegram to your so-called intended and have him break off the engagement.”

“The cad! He's going to break my heart?”

Elijah's blue eyes twinkled, and he laughed. “Well, he's found someone else. The true love of his life. What do you expect him to do?”

“Ah, well, I suppose I'll live through the humiliation.” She sent him a conspiratorial grin. “Especially if I have the joy of being reunited with my long-lost brother instead.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

Ginger felt like she was a little girl all over again as a giddy joy bubbled up inside of her. “When can I see him?”

“He's set for release in February.”

“Well, that's too long to wait. I'm going to see him. Where in St. Louis? What's the name of the prison?”

Shaking his head, Elijah squeezed her hand. “He doesn't want you anywhere near that place.”

“But…”

Elijah raised his other hand. “Trust me. He's right. But he'll come and find you. From the looks of things, you'll be spending the winter at Fort Boise. One telegram, and he can come find you before the wagon train pulls out again in the spring.”

Ginger wanted to protest. Her heart raced. She hadn't seen her brother in seven years and had no intention of waiting another six months to see him. But something in Elijah's eyes begged her to respect Clem's wishes and wait for him to come to her.

The sound of horses' hooves interrupted the conversation. Ginger tensed as Lane rode into camp, along with the men who had left camp during the cholera outbreak. Lane dismounted and stared from her to Elijah. His lip curled into a sneer. “Well, ain't this just cozy? Is there somethin' you two need to tell me? After all, she's my girl.” He sent a suggestive wink that made Ginger's skin crawl. “Ain't ya, honey?”

“Maybe if I was blind and soft in the head.”

Laughter rumbled through the group of men. “She told you, Conners,” Greely called. Ginger snapped her gaze around to the men's tent. All of the men except for Charles Harrison stood outside, presumably to greet their fellow outlaws. They were a pale, weak looking group of men, but Ginger couldn't help but be glad they were going to make it. Only three had died. Much fewer than the wagon train casualties.

Lane's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Shut up,” he growled.
He turned to Elijah. “You best get away from her before I finish what the cholera started.”

Elijah stood slowly and raised his hand, palm forward. “Take it easy. We're just talking.”

“Besides,” Ginger said, shooting up next to him. “How many times do I have to tell you I'm not going to marry you, Lane? I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't care what Web promised you. I'm not going to marry you—now or ever.”

In a flash, Lane reached out and grabbed her arm. Elijah stepped forward. “Let go of her.”

“Better do as you're told, Lane.” Web's voice of authority rang through the air. “What have I told you about grabbing my daughter?”

Ginger couldn't help but note the irony of the situation. “And yet you're the one that promised me to this idiot. And you want to practically sell me to a man in California for your cut of a gold mine.”

“I'm trying to help you, girl,” Web said.

Fighting against the anger, Ginger bit back a retort. “And I appreciate it,” she said.

“Well, act like it then,” Web gasped out. “I come to find Miss Sadie. Harrison's bad off.”

“Miss Sadie's sleeping. I'll see to him.”

“You ain't nursin' no other men,” Lane said.

Ginger sneered and slid past him. “He's an old man. And he needs my help.” She glanced at Web. “Will you go back in there and let Mr. Harrison know I'll be there in just a minute? Elijah, you should go back to bed.”

Elijah shook his head. “I think I'll go have a bath.”

“Are you crazy?” Ginger stared into his clouded eyes. Clearly he needed to be back in the tent, napping. “You can't dip in that freezing cold water. You'll end up with pneumonia!”

He smiled gently. “I'll be fine. I promise.”

“Look, are you coming or not?” Web called from the tent.

“Hold your horses, Web!”

She turned back to Elijah. “Fine. Get pneumonia. See if I care.” She stomped to the fire and ladled a bowl of onion soup then stomped back to the men's tent.

The men had dispersed, and only Web and Charles remained. Ginger's eyes widened at the sight of poor Mr. Harrison. His face was pale, his cheeks sunken, eyes dark. He looked closer to death than life. “Mr. Harrison,” she said softly. “I'm here to give you some soup. Web's going to help you sit up.” She nodded to Web, and he moved to Mr. Harrison's side and lifted his shoulders. Ginger scooped a spoonful and placed it on his lips. He moaned and turned his head. “I can't.”

“If you don't take this, it can't kill the cholera.”

“I'm going to die anyway,” Mr. Harrison said. He turned to Web. “Let me lay down.”

“Don't do it, Web.” Ginger lifted another spoonful to Mr. Harrison's lips and glared at him. “Didn't you hear me?”

Mr. Harrison swallowed down the liquid but waved away the next spoonful. He pushed back and finally, Ginger nodded to Web. “Let him lay down for a minute.”

“I need to talk to you both,” Mr. Harrison said. He turned to Web. “I need you to do something for me, and Ginger is the witness.”

Mercy, this sounded like the kind of speech a person
made when they knew they weren't long for this world. But they could save Mr. Harrison. “Listen,” Ginger said. “You're a couple of days behind the other men in getting cholera. But almost all of the others have made it just fine. Eat the soup. You'll be well in no time.”

Shaking his head, Mr. Harrison took her hand. “I have to say this, just in case.”

Ginger glanced up at Web. His eyes glittered a little too brightly for someone sitting at a dying man's bedside. This just seemed like a bad idea.

“I don't think you should do this.”

Web glared her to silence. “If Charles wants to talk, you ought to let him. A man knows what he needs to do at a time like this.”

She wanted to call him out. To urge Mr. Harrison to keep quiet and not say anything about his money. But the look in Web's eyes told her she'd better not, and Ginger cowered.

“This may come as a shock to you,” Mr. Harrison began, his voice shaky, weak. “I am a very rich man.”

“You are?” Web's voice sounded so insincere Ginger wanted to hit him. But Mr. Harrison was too weak to notice.

“Yes. I brought most of it with me.”

“Without anyone knowing? You could have been robbed.”

Clenching her fists, Ginger clamped her jaw shut to keep from revealing Web's appalling secret.

Charles looked at Web. “I never knew I'd fall in love again after my wife died. But I did. I hate to put this on you, but I need you to see to it that my children receive two-thirds of my money, and Amanda gets the rest.”

“Sure, sure,” Web said. “Just tell me where it's at, and I'll be happy to see to it for ya.”

“Web…”

“Let Charles talk,” Web growled. He turned to Mr. Harrison, his voice too eager. “You were about to tell us where you hid the money.”

“Swear to me,” Mr. Harrison said. “Swear that you'll make sure Amanda gets one-third of the money.”

Web nodded. “Yes, I swear. She'll get her share.”

“I created a false bottom in my wagon. Within the false bottom, there are two hidden compartments. One at the front and one at the back of the wagon.”

The light in Web's eyes brightened, and he nodded. Ginger couldn't believe it. Web was impressed. “I never would have thought of that.”