Dorothy Garlock (13 page)

“Christ! Am I glad to see you!” Painfully, Logan got down on one knee. The dog lowered his body to the ground and crawled to him. The top of his head was encrusted with dried blood. “You got creased a good one, didn’t you, boy? I’ll bet you’ve had the granddaddy of all headaches. I’ve had a few aches, myself. But the three of us are back together now, and we’ll go on out and get the girls. Our time will come. We’ll get a chance at the bastards who did this to us.” He stroked the underside of the dog’s jaw while he talked and Brutus whimpered and licked his hand.

When Josh brought out the team to hitch them to the wagon, Logan was there to help. At times the pain in his side took his breath away and he would have to pause and lean against the side of the wagon. Josh watched him and saw his pain, but didn’t say anything. He decided the man had a stubborn streak a yard wide and it would get him killed, sure as shootin’. For a lone man to try to hold thirty thousand acres of land when a big gun like Adam Clayhill wanted it was pure tomfoolery. Any number of men would shoot him in the back for a hundred dollars. Josh admired his courage, but still thought he was a fool.

Logan sat on a stump, Brutus at his feet, and watched Josh hitch a pair of matched bays to a light buggy. He was hot, his head felt as if someone was pounding on it with a hammer, and he ached from the top of his skull to the tips of his toes. Through the haze of pain one thought persisted. He wanted to get out to the Spurlocks and see Rosealee again. Just remembering her gentle features and quiet serenity gave an uplift to his spirits. He had reached out for someone through the lonely emptiness of his life the night he knocked on her door, and she had welcomed him. He had shared more of himself with her during the few hours they spent together than with anyone else before. Now she would be grieving for her pa. He wanted to see her, be with her, and comfort her as she had comforted him.

Mary came out of the house with a large-brimmed hat on her head and a cloth-covered basket in her arms. She set it in the back of the buggy and made room for another that Meta carried.

“I’ve brought food for a noon meal,” she announced.

“In that case you’d better be hungry,” Meta said. “She’s got enough there to feed ten men and two mules!”

Mary’s quick laugh rang out with throaty vibrancy. “You ride with me, Logan. This buggy’s an easier ride than the wagon.”

“My dog won’t be able to make it unless I can figure a way to get him in the back of the wagon. I tried, but I’m not up to liftin’ him.”

“I can do it,” Josh said, and made a move toward Brutus. The dog backed away and bared his teeth.

“Don’t touch him,” Logan said quickly. “He’s touchy, especially now, when he’s hurtin’. I think, maybe, he could walk up a plank if we let the tailgate down.” He lowered the end of the wagon and Josh carried a plank from the barn. Logan led Mercury to the end of the wagon and tied him. “Come on, boy. Come up here and stay by the man.” Slowly and painfully Brutus obeyed. Logan made a place for him to lie on top of the sacks of grain and the dog settled down, but watched every move he made. Logan stroked his jaw. “I know it goes against the grain to ride, but you can do it this time. Rest and you’ll be all right in a day or two,” he murmured. “The man’ll be right here with you.”

It took almost every ounce of Logan’s strength to get in the buggy. He offered to take the reins, but Mary already had them clasped firmly in her gloved hands; she knew how to handle the team and loved to drive.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” she said, then lapsed into silence.

Logan sat upright, or leaned forward with his elbow resting on his thigh. He couldn’t decide which hurt most: his back, his ribs, his buttocks, his jaw, or his head. By the time they were halfway to the Spurlocks’ he was almost out of his head with fever and fervently wishing he was anywhere except where he was.

Mary glanced at Logan from time to time. His face was ashen and she knew he was suffering excruciating pain. His nostrils flared and he closed his eyes against the torment. She didn’t bother him with conversation, but concentrated instead on keeping the bays in a smooth trot, and soon they were a good mile ahead of Josh and the plodding team.

*  *  *

Rosalee came to the door to throw out a dishpan full of water and saw the buggy coming. It was Mary Gregg. Somehow she knew she would come as soon as word of her father’s death reached her. Rosalee was aware that Mary ran the local brothel, a fact she had kept from their father. The news had been whispered to her by one of the town’s matrons after she and Mary had talked in the mercantile. A week later, Mary drove out to the ranch, and before she got out of the buggy she asked Rosalee if she knew who she was. Rosalee had nodded and said, “Come in and try a slice of honey cake.” They had been good friends ever since. Odell adored Mary, and Mary always remembered to bring her a treat when she came and spent some time talking just to her.

Rosalee wiped her hands on her apron, smoothed her hair with her palms, and swiftly whipped off her apron to turn the clean side out. She stood in the yard beside the door and waited. There was someone with Mary, but it didn’t look like Josh. Then the realization hit her that it was Logan in the buggy beside Mary. She felt her face grow hot and her heart thumped painfully.

Mary pulled the bays to a slow walk to calm them down before she brought them to a halt. Logan swayed dizzily on the seat beside her. Only sheer willpower kept him erect in the seat. Rosalee moved away from the house, her eyes going from Logan to Mary.

Logan looked at her with fever-dulled eyes. Her face blurred, came into focus, then blurred again. “Rosalee, I . . . came back,” he murmured.

“He’s been hurt,” Mary said. “I was afraid he’d faint before we got here.”

“How bad?” Rosalee tried to speak casually, trying to deny with her tone how shaken she was.

“He was beaten—cruelly! Now all of a sudden fever has set in. He’s burning up. Stubborn mule! He was determined to come out here.”

Logan’s unblinking eyes remained on Rosalee’s face. She stood beside the buggy, her hand on the side of the seat.

“I was afraid . . . they’d killed you.” She almost choked on the words.

“They almost did!” Mary was beside her. “I don’t know if he can get out of the buggy. We’ll have to wait for Josh. He’s driving Logan’s team.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Rosalee to wonder how Logan came to be with Mary. It was enough that he was here. She looked back down the trail. The wagon wasn’t in sight yet, and even Ben wasn’t here to help. He had just left to check on their small herd.

“Logan, listen to me . . . Do you think you can get down if I help you?” His hand lay on his knee. She covered it with hers without thinking about it.

He turned his hand over and clasped hers so tightly she almost winced. “Just . . . help me.”

“I will. I’m strong, Logan. Put both your feet over the side.” She kept her eyes on his face and saw the pain when he moved. “Slide off the seat and lean on me.”

“I’ll . . . hurt you.”

“No. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“It’s his ribs and his back,” Mary said and reached up under his arm to give him support. “Try not to touch his back. Oh, I forgot his buttocks! How has he been able to sit all this time? Come on, Logan. We’ll get you inside so you can lie down.”

His knees buckled slightly when his feet hit the ground, but he stiffened them. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Rosalee lifted his arm up and over her shoulder. “Lean on me and let’s go.” Mary went ahead of them into the cabin. “There’s clean bedding on the bed, Mary. Turn back the quilt.”

Logan remained erect and let Rosalee guide him. She led him to the bunk and he sank down.

“Don’t lie down, Logan,” Mary said. “We’ve got to get your shirt off so I can tend to your back. Oh, you foolish man! Why didn’t you stay at my place a few more days?” Rosalee paled when she saw the bloody welts and torn skin. “Bless his buckskin shirt,” Mary murmured. “Without it his back would be ribbons.”

Mary’s voice reached Logan from some far distant place. He was eased down on his side and didn’t recognize the grunt he heard as having come from his own throat.

“Take off his moccasins, Rosalee. We’ve got to get his britches off, too. His buttocks are torn up almost as bad as his back. You’ll have to help me. You’d think a fallen woman would be able to manage that alone, wouldn’t you?” she said without humor.

After they had stripped the dark giant of a man, they covered him with a quilt. Then Rosalee hurried to the spring for a bucket of cool water and Mary went to the buggy for her basket of supplies. Josh and the wagon were coming over the rise.

“I don’t know how he managed to sit in the buggy,” Mary said. She had folded the quilt back so she could apply a coat of salve to his buttocks. She covered them with a clean cloth and went to work on his back.

“He’s burning up with fever,” Rosalee said with a worried frown and placed a wet towel on his forehead.

“When I finish here I’ll make some sage tea. That will help take down the fever. Logan, are you awake? You need to drink water or the fever will burn you up inside. Bring a dipper of water, Rosalee. Stubborn Indian,” Mary fumed. “He’s got to be thirsty, but he wouldn’t ask for anything!”

Logan gulped the water so greedily that part of it ran down the side of his mouth. He lay back down and Rosalee put the damp towel on his face. There were a million questions floating around in her mind, but they would have to wait.

Josh’s square bulk filled the doorway just as Mary finished covering Logan’s back and pulled the quilt up over his shoulders.

“I figured this’s why you was in such a all-fired hurry,” Josh said. “He was ’bout to keel over afore we left.”

“He never let on at breakfast that he wasn’t doing fine. But I should’ve known when he didn’t eat much.”

“That dog of his’n won’t let me near the stallion. I put the gate down ’n he jumped off the wagon, but he just sits there ’n bares his teeth.”

Rosalee went to the door and looked out. “Logan probably told him to stay. Brutus,” she called. “Brutus, come.” The dog looked at her. “Come, Brutus. Come see for yourself that Logan is here.” Slowly, the dog moved around the side of the buggy. He put his nose to the ground and sniffed, lifted his head and looked at the doorway. He came cautiously to the door, then stepped over the sill and went to the bunk. He put his nose against Logan’s face and a high, keening whine came from his throat. Logan didn’t move. He had fallen into a deep sleep. The dog sat down. He looked from Rosalee to Logan and back again.

“He’s been hurt, too! Look at the blood on his head.”

“How will we get him out of here?” Mary asked.

“I shouldn’t have called him in.” Rosalee took a cautious step toward the bed, expecting to hear a growl coming from the massive throat. When none came she took another. “Brutus, stay with the girls,” she said firmly, remembering the orders Logan had given him the night before he left to go to town. The dog stood and looked at her. “Stay with the girls, Brutus.” He went to the door, looked back at the bunk, and went out.

“Phew!” Mary gave a sigh of relief. “Who are the girls?”

Rosalee smiled. “A mare and a foal. Logan left them here in our corral.”

“I’d hate to tangle with that sucker,” Josh said. “And I’d hate it aplenty if’n I had to shoot him.”

“Bring in the baskets, Josh. And we should get Logan’s wagon of supplies out of sight. I’d not put it past Clayhill to send someone over here to put a torch to it.” Mary paused and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Oh, Rosalee. I meant to tell you how sorry I am about your father as soon as we got here, but it didn’t seem to be the right time. And then we got busy with Logan . . .” Her voice trailed away.

“Thank you, Mary. I understand. So much has happened in just a few days that my mind is in a total whirl.”

“Where’s Odell?”

“She went home with the Haywards after the burying.”

“That will be good for her. She’ll be with other children. Oh, here’s your brother. Hello, Ben.”

“Hello, Mrs. Gregg. What’s going on, Rosalee? Whose wagon is that?” Ben’s worried voice came from the doorway.

Rosalee placed another cloth on Logan’s head. “Let’s go outside and I’ll tell you.”

Mary and Rosalee followed Ben into the yard. A man walked a big buckskin horse around the corner of the house. For an instant Rosalee froze when she recognized the Clayhill ranch foreman. He put his hand to the brim of his hat and nodded.

“I met up with Mr. Malone down by the draw. I invited him to noon with us.”

There was a long silence after Ben spoke. The man sat still in the saddle, waiting. The black hatred for everything Clayhill came rushing back to Rosalee. Clayhill men were responsible for her father’s death, and she didn’t doubt that they were also responsible for what had been done to Logan. She would not feed one of them in her home! She opened her mouth to say so when Mary spoke.

“Hello, Case. Going somewhere? I see you’ve got your bedroll and your saddlebags are full.”

Rosalee realized then that his eyes had not left Mary’s face since he came around the corner and saw her.

“Hello, Mary. I thought I might amble on back to Texas. There don’t seem to be anything here to hold me.”

“You’ve got the same reason you had when you came here two years ago, Case—your job with the mighty Mr. Clayhill,” Mary said with heavy sarcasm.

“I don’t have a job.”

“You quit? Now, why did you go and do a thing like that?”

“We had a difference of opinion.” His drawling response came to her like a soothing hand and she hid her relief with light banter.

“Well! It’s about time, Case Malone!”

Rosalee didn’t understand why Mary was so agitated. Her cheeks were flushed and she held her chin at a defiant angle as if she were defending herself. Case leaned casually on the pommel of his saddle and watched her without a flicker of impatience on his face or in his voice.

“I’m right sorry about what happened to your pa, ma’am,” he said to Rosalee.

She nodded with polite coolness, but didn’t speak.