Fired Up (10 page)

Shaking his head, Vince strode toward the corral.

Sudden movement shifted Dare's attention just as Glynna came running toward him. Right behind her were Paul and Janet. They all looked like they'd dressed on the run. Buttons half closed and not lined up right. Shoes untied.

“Dare! You're all right.” Glynna came at him, and for just a second their eyes met. Gold met blue. Her fear and relief were shocking to Dare for all they revealed. He thought for one moment she might throw herself into his arms. He was more than certain she intended to do exactly that. And he intended to catch her and hold on.

Then she stopped and clutched her hands together as if holding herself back physically. Her children came up beside her. Janet, scared and quiet. Paul, sullen and angry.

In other words, the same as always.

Dare saw the young man and thought something gleamed in the boy's eyes. Maybe the flickering of the fire cast something that wasn't there. But the youngster looked almost . . . satisfied. The boy didn't like him, didn't like any man who looked too long at his ma, and Dare didn't rightly blame him. Dare then noticed the youngster, unlike his ma and sister, was fully dressed.

A crash drew all of them around to face the fire as the second floor of the house collapsed. An updraft blew what was left of the roof apart, flinging flames in all directions. Jonas shouted just as Vince ran out of the corral, leading Dare's horse.

“Get back to the diner, but don't go inside,” Dare ordered. “This fire could spread and the whole town could catch.” Grabbing Glynna's arm and herding the children in front
of him, he ran around the front of his house, giving the blaze a wide berth.

When he got around it, he saw that the fire hadn't caught anywhere further. Somehow the fire stayed contained, even as the rest of the house caved in.

A crowd was gathering, all of them prepared to fight the fire if it spread in order to save their own houses and businesses. Dare didn't much like his house burning down to nothing to be looked at like some kind of show, but he understood.

He thought again of his books.

The feeling he'd been fighting about doctoring grew as his house and all his doctoring books turned to ash.

That was when he got an idea that he should've thought of a long time ago. He considered it for all of ten seconds before he decided it was an idea with merit. Striding away from a fire that was staying put, he found Glynna standing in front of her diner, both children sitting on the steps, watching the show. Paul's eyes left the fire and burned right at Dare.

Dare made a point of staying well away from Glynna and speaking loudly enough that the kid could hear every word. “When Luke told you to deal with Greer's land, you said you didn't want any part of it.”

“That's right. I won't profit off my marriage to that man.” Glynna jerked her head in a sideways nod at the diner. “Besides, I'm doing real well with my restaurant. I can support myself and my children without touching Flint's ill-gotten gains.”

“I want to buy it. Let's come up with an honest amount,
what it's really worth.” Maybe it would be enough money to get her to stop serving up burnt offerings to the hapless, charmed men of Broken Wheel twice a day, six days a week.

They were all like moths to Glynna's flaming meals. She'd been cooking up a storm, almost literally, for two weeks now. And Dare had treated more upset stomachs in that time than in all the months he'd been here.

The men all saw the connection, they just couldn't help going back for more.

Dare hadn't missed a meal yet, either.

“You can have it. I'm glad that's settled. I've never really known where it is, but my understanding is that Flint had an old shack there. And that land is closer to town, I think, than Luke and Ruthy's place. You could live there and ride in to treat your patients without much trouble.”

“I'm done with doctoring.” Dare turned to face the fire. It was almost cheerful watching his life burn to the ground. He'd struggled with a lot of guilt since he'd failed so miserably with Glynna, not recognizing Flint's mistreatment of her. He'd learned a lot of doctoring in the war, but he'd never gone to medical school. In fact he'd had precious little schooling at all. And he'd taken foolish pride in not wasting years studying.

Until his training had failed him.

“This town needs a doctor.” Glynna clearly wasn't seeing the good in his new decision.

“They sure enough do. I hope one moves to town right soon.”

Glynna plunked her fists on her hips. “That's not what I mean. There are four empty houses in this town right
now. They've been abandoned. Some even have furniture in them. So you could move right in. That's what I did with the diner. You can be back in the doctoring business tomorrow.”

“Just sell me your land. I'm going into ranching.”

“No, I refuse to profit from my marriage to that varmint, and besides, I think you're making a mistake. Do you know anything about cattle? Did you grow up on a ranch yourself?”

Dare was silent for a long time. Finally, though he hated to admit it, he said, “My pa was a wheelwright. That's useful for a rancher.”

“Only if your cows have wheels.”

Dare, disgusted, said, “We'll talk about this later. You can all go back to bed. The fire's dying. It's not going to spread.”

They didn't move. Which irritated him. “I'm glad watching my whole life burn down is fun for this town.”

Every man, woman, and child in Broken Wheel was out watching the blaze. Of course “every woman” was Glynna. And “every child” was Janet. Paul didn't count. He was taller than his ma. Dare sure hoped the youngsters learned to cook soon. Someone in this family had to before everyone in town had a stomach in full rebellion.

No reason Paul couldn't learn. Dare had been working with his pa for years at Paul's age.

Which was why he had next to no schooling.

Which was why he'd never had a chance to go to medical school and get the training he needed.

Which was why he was a fraud and a liar and a failure.

Which was why he was going to buy Glynna's land and become a rancher.

He wondered what all a rancher did besides watch their cattle get fat, sell them and count the money. Luke seemed to keep busy, but Dare had never watched him real close. Maybe the man slept until noon and barely stuck his nose out the door.

But there had to be more to it than that.

“Good night, Dr. Riker.” Glynna herded her children into the diner.

Glynna looked back to see Dare striding toward the crowd in the street watching the fire. Just as the children got inside, she heard a strange scraping noise from around the side of her building.

She stopped and listened. What was that?

It was long past midnight. It wasn't too frigid outside, but neither was it a night someone would stand around in unless a building was burning down. Glancing back at the fire, she saw all the townsfolk still standing there, still watching.

If someone was out there, why wasn't he gawking at the fire like everyone else?

A tiny whine came after the scrape.

What was that?

Her diner was the last connected building on this short stretch of what amounted to Main Street in Broken Wheel. Glynna hesitated. A dangerous animal wouldn't wander into town, would it? Maybe if it was injured or rabid. One cautious step at a time, she went to the end of the board-walk and peered around the corner to see. . . .

“Lana?”

Lana Bullard. She'd vanished after her husband, Simon, died in the same shootout where Flint had been killed.

Flint hadn't liked Glynna associating with anyone, and Lana had shown no inclination to associate. Flint made sure Glynna heard of Lana's disreputable past, and Glynna, more out of fear of Flint than any snobbery toward Lana's past, had stayed away from the woman.

Lana was the only other woman around back then. Ruthy hadn't lived here then. Ruthy had come to town with Luke because he'd found her stranded in the wilderness after being swept away from her wagon train by floodwaters.

Luke had come home to regain his ranch, and as part of that, the Regulators had saved Glynna from Flint. To flush Flint out of the well-defended ranch, they'd had Glynna hide and made it look like she'd run off.

Flint came charging into Broken Wheel with his men to drag her back home, and he'd been faced down by Dare, Luke, Vince, and Jonas, as well as their Texas Ranger friend Big John. Flint and his foreman Simon had died. The other gunslingers Flint employed went to jail. Luke married Ruthy and moved back home to his ranch. Glynna, meanwhile, moved into the abandoned diner with plans to start a business.

And Lana was never seen again. Until now.

Now here she was, crouched down in the shadow of the diner, trembling with cold. Only the light cast by the flames made her identifiable. Where had she been all this time?

“Are you all right?” Glynna asked her.

Slowly Lana stood, using the building for support. Glynna hurried to slip an arm around Lana's waist. She'd been a stout woman, but now she was so thin, Glynna was scared for her.

“Let me help you.”

Paul appeared on the board-walk. “What's going on?”

Her son. So angry and suspicious and, under that, scared. Glynna wondered if he'd been changed forever. If he was safe long enough, could he rediscover the sweet boy he'd been?

“It's Lana Bullard, Paul. Looks like she needs care—something to eat and a warm place to stay.” Glynna thought of the town doctor, the obvious person to send for. But Lana might only need a hot meal and a warm bed, and that was all. She'd leave Dare alone for now.

Paul hurried down to help support Lana.

“I'm just tired is all.” Lana's voice broke. “A meal and a bed sound like heaven.”

Glynna, with a lot of help from Paul, got Lana up the single step to the board-walk and then inside. They helped her to a chair, and she nearly collapsed onto it.

“Paul, get a piece of bread and some milk.”

Paul dashed off to the kitchen. Janet stood, half hidden by the door that led up to their attic room.

Glynna touched Lana's forehead. No fever. She was deeply chilled, though. Her fingers were like ice. Her face was deeply lined and filthy.

“Stir the fire in the kitchen stove, Janny, then add some kindling and push the old coffee forward so it'll heat.” Glynna asked too much from her children, she knew. But
she was afraid that if she quit supporting Lana, the woman would topple over.

“Whiskey,” Lana said. “I just need a drink and I'll feel better. And I ache. Have you got any laudanum?”

That told Glynna more than she wanted to know about Lana Bullard. “I don't have either and can't get any.” She wouldn't get any if she could, but that was news Glynna would pass on later.

Lana folded in on herself, and only Glynna's quick reaction kept the woman from slumping to the floor. Paul was back with bread and milk. In the kitchen, the thud of wood being dropped into the stove told Glynna that Janet was hard at work stoking the fire.

Paul set the food down.

“Eat something, Lana.” Glynna tugged on Lana's shoulders to get her to sit up straight enough to see the food.

Paul turned the lantern up, and Glynna got her first good look at the poor woman. She'd only seen her a few times before, and that was from a distance.

Her dark hair was graying and greasy and snarled so badly that Glynna wondered if they could get a comb through it, and Lana's skin was as pale as ash. She reached grimy hands for the bread, a curve of dirt under each nail. Glynna was tempted to stop her and make her wash before she ate, but she wasn't sure Lana had the strength.

“Paul, get a basin with warm water. The wells on the stove should be warm by now.”

While Paul did as he was told, Janet came in and began thrusting small logs into the potbellied stove in the dining room to heat it up. Janny had thought of it on her own.

The fire crackled. They could be generous with wood because the diner was thriving, and beyond making money, the men kept showing up with wood already chopped and split. Glynna had a winter's supply already with more coming every day.

Lana took a bite of bread and grunted. “What is this?”

“Bread,” Glynna answered. “It must've dried out some.”

“Honest?” Lana looked up and for the first time seemed to really see Glynna. Lana's face was deeply lined. Her skin hung nearly in folds on her emaciated face. Glynna wondered how much work it was going to be to get Lana to take a bath. Fortunately, because of the weight loss, she'd fit into one of Glynna's dresses, and then Glynna could burn the rags Lana now wore.

“Yes, I'm sorry. I baked it this morning.”

Lana took a sip of milk, shuddered, then drank the rest of it down fast, like she was taking a dose of foul-tasting medicine.

“Janet, go upstairs and get my green calico dress, please.”

Janet vanished as if happy for an excuse to run away.

Paul came in carrying a small washbasin. He had towels draped over his arm and a bar of soap clutched between two fingers. Her son knew exactly what was called for.

“I got the biggest tin tub and put it by the fire in the kitchen. I filled it with hot water for bathing. I filled an empty coffeepot with more warm water on the stove to use for hair washing. I also refilled the water wells. More oughta be warm soon.”

“Thank you.” With pride, Glynna realized her boy was thinking faster than she was.

“If I weren't starving, I'd never be able to swallow this bread.” Lana took another bite. “I can bake better bread than this in my sleep.”

Miffed at the woman, Glynna said, “Would you like some more milk? That's all we've got that hasn't been prepared by my hand.”

Glynna didn't bother to offer the woman any roast beef. That had dried out some, too.

“Bring the milk. I hate it, but it weren't burned past eatin' at least.”

Janet was back with the dress for the ungrateful wretch.

Paul returned with more milk.

“Go on to bed now, children,” Glynna said. “I'll help Lana wash up.”

Both of them left eagerly. As a rule, they didn't like their ma being out of their sight. But this was Lana Bullard, a woman. Usually their ma was surrounded by men.

It was a night to remember, no matter how badly Glynna would have liked to forget it. Lana cooperated in nothing. Glynna got her to stand in the tub and endure a bath mainly because the woman was too weak to protest.

She put on the very modest calico dress only because Glynna burned her other one. Glynna did end up cutting Lana's hair to shoulder length and did a poor job of it, but there was no other way to bring order to the rat's nest on Lana's head.

Finally, in the wee hours before dawn, Lana Bullard had her hair washed and combed. Her dress was on and her belly was full, though mostly of milk.

“Let's go upstairs now. You'll have to sleep on the floor,
though. I have a blanket for you but nothing else at the moment.”

“Do you mind if I sleep down here?” Lana had a shifty tone, and Glynna fully expected to wake up in the morning to find the woman gone. Which suited Glynna fine. If a starving woman's first request was for whiskey, then she had no place here in Glynna's home. There was no money lying around and no whiskey on the premises. Lana was welcome to anything else she decided to steal.

“I'll bring a blanket down for you,” Glynna said, then went up the stairs and straight back down with the blanket. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Mrs. Greer.”

Glynna decided to wait until the morning to correct Lana about the name—if the woman was still here.

The next morning, when he ducked out of the buffeting wind and into Glynna's diner, Dare almost tripped over his own feet.

It smelled like heaven. The place was packed, even for Glynna, who always did a bustling business.

Men were actually swallowing the coffee with not a single shudder.

Then Dare saw the eggs. They were yellow; he'd expected something a bit darker. One plate had the eggs with the yolks all together, surrounded by the whites. Since when did Glynna know how to do that? Maybe she'd finally learned how to use the stove.

Glynna stepped out of the kitchen carrying a coffeepot, and men everywhere extended their cups.

Dare found a seat at the corner of one of the tables. Vince was here, but there was no open seat near him. Dare had slept on the floor at Vince's house last night and awakened to find Vince gone.

Jonas was at another table, and he glanced up at Dare, waved, then went back to reading something.

Glynna smiled at Dare and came to him with her pot and a tin cup.

Paul came out of the kitchen carrying plates piled with fried potatoes, bacon, and eggs. Not a one of those things was black. On each of Paul's four plates sat a golden biscuit. It looked like the crown on top of a royal feast. Dare's mouth watered. The boy was busy waiting tables; so was Glynna. Was it possible Janet had learned to cook?

Dare got his plate and tore into the hearty meal. A few of the lingering men had moved on—and of course he did some lingering of his own. A chair beside Dare opened up. Vince walked over and sat beside him.

“What!” Jonas rose so suddenly he tipped over the bench, which was now empty except for him. He stared wide-eyed at the paper in his hands. He ran one hand deep into his red curls without tearing his eyes away from the letter.

“Bad news?” Dare knew Jonas had family back East—a little sister and maybe an aunt.

“It's . . . it's . . .” Jonas fell silent as he read it again. “It's impossible.”

“Did someone die?” Vince went to Jonas and, with a firm hand, guided Jonas over to Dare's table. He had to apply some force, but he got Jonas to sit down.

Jonas's mouth opened and closed like a landed catfish.

Finally, because he always thought he knew best, Vince snatched the letter out of Jonas's white-knuckled grip. It was only one page. A second page or two or three was left behind at the spot where Jonas had been eating. It had to be from Jonas's baby sister. The girl was famous for her long letters. This page was clearly about something that was not good news.

Vince gave a bark of laughter and shoved the paper back at Jonas. “Your little sister is coming to live with you?”

It was bad . . . for Jonas. Dare didn't figure it would bother him overly. It wasn't
his
sister. Of course, this land could be hard on women. Glynna's husband had almost killed her. Ruthy had been nearly drowned and involved in a land war. Lana Bullard was crazy. The Kiowa woman Anemy had watched half her village die.