Stuck Together (Trouble in Texas Book #3) (7 page)

The dog suddenly lifted its pointed nose, wheeled to the west and took off running, its distinctive baying echoing in the canyon that surrounded them.

“Maybe she’s picked up Mother’s scent.” Vince ran after the dog, still hanging on to Melissa’s arm. The ground was scattered with red stones, stunted trees, ragged grass, and weeds.

Vince caught a glimpse of the dog. He ran, dragging his sister along, only vaguely aware it felt better to have someone to hang on to.

The dog appeared from behind a boulder, then vanished into a clump of mesquite trees, streaked into the open again and rounded a tall mount of grass and began baying. The dog didn’t reappear.

“Livvy’s found her!” Melissa moved faster, now ahead of Vince.

“Or she found another snake.” Vince hurried to keep up. They rounded the grass blocking their view, and there was Mother, lying on her side, her forehead bleeding.
Livvy was sniffing at her still form, whining as if worried sick.

With a cry of alarm, Melissa dropped to her knees beside Mother. Vince knelt across from Melissa and did a quick examination for injuries beyond the small wound on her head, which looked to have been caused by a jagged rock smeared with blood.

“She probably just fell and knocked herself insensible,” Vince said. “C’mon. Let’s get her to Dare.” He slid his arms under Mother and stood, moving as smoothly as he could so as not to jar her further. He ached for his confused mother. She would wake up from this blow and wonder why she hurt so and maybe be terrified to find herself in Vince’s arms.

He looked at Melissa, realizing he had no idea how to deal with Mother. Oh, he’d get her to Dare’s doctor’s office as fast as possible; he needed no one to tell him that. But in so many ways, Mother made him feel as helpless now as she had when he was a child. Melissa knew how to manage far better than he did. He was a man who took command, a trait inherited from his father, but right now he’d give anything for someone to tell him how to understand his own mother.

Striding back to town, with Melissa rushing along beside him and Livvy whimpering at his heels, he saw Dare coming out of the back door of Vince’s law office.

After reaching Dare, Vince said, “I found her unconscious. She must’ve fallen and hit her head.”

“Let’s get her to my place.” Dare looked at Melissa. “Check in the diner. Glynna is my right hand when I’m doctoring. If she’s there, tell her I need her. If she’s not there, find her.”

The three of them rounded the row of buildings to Main Street—such highfalutin words for the cold dirt between Broken Wheel’s two short rows of businesses.

Dare, always a restless, fast-moving man, led the way across the street and around the other row of buildings.

Melissa said, “Livvy, come!” as she veered off toward the diner.

Vince was hard on Dare’s heels, holding his mother as gentle as he could while they made their way to the doctor’s office.

“Your pa never even left the diner, Vince. I know there’s trouble between you and your pa, so I hope you don’t take offense. But what kind of a low-down coyote sits around drinking coffee while his wife’s gone missing?”

Vince wanted to stop Dare from asking such an ugly question. It was probably a good thing he was still carrying Mother, because listening to Dare’s questions made him want to swing a fist. But if Vince went to shutting someone up with a punch in the nose, it’d probably be Father who deserved the beating.

Because Vince had shared the worst a man can share with his friend during their imprisonment in Andersonville, there was little that could earn Dare a punch. That desire was all coming straight out of Vince’s upset, and Dare didn’t deserve a bit of it.

“Let’s just take care of her. No sense fretting about my father. He won’t ever change.”

“Tell me why she ran off. Did something upset her? Or scare her?”

Dare pounded up the two steps to swing open his door.
Vince followed right behind, turning sideways to get through with the small burden he bore.

He rested Mother on Dare’s examining bed. As he laid her down, she moaned and turned her head from side to side. Lifting one of her hands to touch the cut on her head, Vince caught her wrist. “No, Mother. Let the doctor have a look.”

Mother resisted, tugging against Vince’s grip. Dare pressed a cloth on the bleeding wound, and Vince’s restraint, along with the pain of Dare staunching the trickle of blood, pulled Mother’s eyes open. She looked straight at Vince.

“My son.” Mother blinked, and her eyes filled with tears. “Vincent, my sweet boy, I’ve missed you so. I’m glad you’ve come home.”

Vince thought his heart would rip open from the sweet pain of Mother saying his name. Her eyes fluttered closed again. Vince reached to shake her shoulder, gently but insistently.

“No, Vince.” Dare stopped him. “I need her to be still. She may need stitches and she’ll at least need a bandage. That’s easier to do if she’s fainted.”

Looking at the closed eyes, Vince said, “She knows me. Right now she knows who I am. You asked me why she ran off; it’s because something’s wrong with her. Something in her mind. One of the reasons I wanted to try and find a way to help Lana Bullard is because I thought then maybe we could help Mother.”

“She’s that bad?” Dare looked up sharply. “As bad as Lana?”

Lana, who’d tried to kill Dare.

“I don’t think she’s dangerous.” Then again, Vince
hadn’t been around his mother for a long, long time. “Not to anyone but herself. But she’s . . . addled. Like she’s living in a world only she understands. When I went home after the war, she didn’t know who I was. I was sick and starved down to bones.”

“I remember,” Dare said somberly. Dare had been the same—they all had.

“I suppose I looked so awful she couldn’t see her son in me. She acted scared of me and ordered me out of the house every time she saw me. I learned to stay out of her way. And she gets upset if we don’t go along with whatever nonsense she’s talking about. Hearing her say my name is . . .” Vince swallowed the lump in his throat.

Dare went back to working on Mother, probably because he was afraid Vince was going to shame himself with tears.

Vince would do no such thing. He went on, “You didn’t hear her when she got out of the carriage and hugged me. She called me Julius. Father’s name. If she passes out or falls asleep, who knows if she’ll ever—”

Glynna hurried in and rushed to Dare’s side. “What can I do to help?”

Only then did Vince realize no one had closed the door. Had Glynna heard any of this? How loud had Vince been talking? He knew it didn’t matter, but it was so shameful to have a mother who wasn’t in her right mind. And it tore at the very fabric of his soul to be so worthless that his mother couldn’t remember his name. And he couldn’t help but wonder if whatever madness plagued her might one day come over him.

He heard another step and saw Tina pulling the door
shut. His eyes met hers. Knowledge of what Vince had said was there. She’d heard everything.

“It doesn’t matter that you overheard,” Vince said quietly. “You’ll all have to know in order to protect Mother.”

Vince prided himself on hiding his feelings and keeping his life private. He didn’t even like his Regulator friends to know what he was thinking. Now he’d have to live with the whole world knowing how mixed up his family was.

“We need to talk about what care she needs.” Dare seemed to understand how Vince was feeling. He lifted the cloth from Mother’s forehead and studied the wound, talking the whole time. “We’ll all need to know, because if she’s not thinking right, then she’ll need constant attention. If we’re all alert, we can prevent another incident like what happened today.”

Dare focused on his patient. He’d always been good at this, ignoring distractions and focusing on whoever was sick. It was what made him a good doctor. “Glynna, I need warm water and bandages.”

Glynna was turning into a first-rate nurse, too. She had the basin of water within Dare’s reach almost before he’d asked for it. Tina moved for the bandages. She was here to help, not watch. Glynna brought carbolic acid without being asked. Dare thought the liquid was a powerful help in preventing infections, and he put it on nearly every wound.

Dare wrung out a clean cloth in the hot water and cleaned the cut. After a few long minutes and a closer inspection, he said, “It won’t need stitches. It’s not that deep.”

Vince heaved a sigh of relief just as the door behind him swung open.

Father. Finally.

Melissa was right behind him. Livvy trotted at her heel.

The dog laid her muzzle on the bed and gave a little whine. Livvy seemed more upset about Mother getting hurt than anyone else. A sad commentary.

In fact, it was so sad that Vince had a momentary burn in his eyes that in a weakling might’ve meant tears. But men didn’t cry, so Vince dug deep and found anger instead. At last he was ready to say out loud all that had been pressing to get out.

A volcano didn’t have this kind of pressure.

“Well, how is she?” Father asked impatiently.

Turning to face Father, Vince saw no reason anymore to pretend like he’d ever find a way to get along with his arrogant, cheating, ruthless tyrant of a father.

Mrs. Yates jumped at the sound of her husband’s voice. She twisted on the bed and jumped again, this time at the sight of Dare leaning over her. “Why, I declare, whatever is going on here? Who are you, young man?”

Tina was glad for the interruption, because she saw the storm clouds churning in Vince’s brown eyes.

“I’m a doctor, and you bumped your head.” Dare’s soothing tone darkened and grew louder as he looked up. “I need quiet in here.”

Mrs. Yates didn’t jump this time. Instead her eyes went wide and she leaned a bit toward Dare.

“My patient needs to stay calm. Make yourself useful, Vince.” Dare’s voice returned to being calm as he drew Vince back from glaring daggers at his father.

Tina saw so much pass between Dare and Vince. It then struck her hard that she’d never had a real friend. Her growing-up years had been lonely beyond belief. Now, here with Jonas, despite her picketing, she’d been drawn into her brother’s circle of friends and she loved it. And they let her be part of their circle, even if she did have to give them an occasional scolding to get them to do as she
asked. She’d noticed well enough that none of them hesitated to scold her right back—Vince most especially. But they never withdrew their friendship when they did so.

Now here was Dare, seeing a fight brewing, trying to head it off so they could focus on what was most important: his patient’s health. Although heading off a fight between a father and a son was a good cause all of itself. Such a good cause in fact that Tina, despite her annoyance with Mr. Yates, should probably paint up a sign and march around with it, advising against fathers and sons fighting.

“Mr. Yates, your presence here is disturbing your wife.” Dare spoke with all the authority of a doctor. “Maybe you could occupy yourself settling into the boardinghouse.”

Tina saw Mr. Yates stiffen, not happy to be dismissed. He looked at his ailing wife, pulled his pocket watch from his vest pocket, snapped it open and studied it for a moment. Looking up he said, “You’re right, Doctor. I think it’s high time for me to go.” With a humph he snapped his watch shut, tucked it away, turned, and with a steady thump of his cane, left the building.

A bit more gently, Dare said, “Help me hold your ma’s hands, Vincent.”

Using his full name brought Vince’s eyes to his ma. Dare had done it deliberately, probably hoping Mrs. Yates would recognize it in her muddled state. A taut muscle worked in Vince’s jaw, but he got a grip on his temper and turned back to his ailing ma.

As Vince sat on the bed beside her, his ma smiled up at him. “Son, it’s so nice to see you. When did you get home?”

Vince drew in a breath so deep his whole body rose. He
leaned close. “I just got here, Mother. The doctor needs to help you. You have a cut on your head.” Vince’s voice dropped to an inaudible murmur, and his mother seemed enthralled with him.

Then she turned to Dare. “I’ll be still, Doctor. Thank you ever so much for your assistance.” She lay utterly still, but her eyes slid to Vince. “You’ve gotten so handsome, Vincent. I declare you are the very image of your father.”

She continued to speak to Dare and Vince in turn in her pretty Southern drawl.

Ruthy Stone stepped out of the barn, her milk pail brimming over. She ran smack into Quince Wilcox, a recently hired cowhand.

He stumbled and fell against her. Milk slopped out of the pail. Ruthy was quick to steady it before more spilt as she backed away into the barn. Quince lurched backward and hit the wide open door, then stumbled to a halt. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Stone.”

He was tall and skinny, with a scruffy beard and dirty blond hair that hung in his light-blue eyes. He was older than Ruthy, and most of the cowpokes, except for Dodger and their cook, were young. Riding herd was a job for youngsters.

Quince leaned toward her and Ruthy, who’d never considered for a moment not feeling safe around their hired men, fought the urge to take a step back. Quince blocked the door so she couldn’t get out without pushing him aside. But it didn’t suit her to retreat.

He grabbed the barn door as if to steady himself, then
stepped just a bit closer and caught her arm. “There now, sorry about the spill, ma’am.”

Ruthy didn’t back up, not wanting to allow the man to step in and shut the door on them. That was when she smelled liquor on his breath.

He held on longer than was appropriate in Ruthy’s opinion but made no further move. She didn’t like his touch, though she sensed no real threat. He held on to keep himself upright.

Controlling her expression to show no fear, she said crisply, “Please step aside, Mr. Wilcox. I’m late for preparing the evening meal. Your supper will be ready in the bunkhouse by now I’m sure.”

Quince narrowed his eyes. Ruthy suspected he was seeing two of her. He shook his head, dropped her arm, and turned aside.

“Supper in the bunkhouse.” He nodded as if trying to understand what that meant. Then he staggered away without another word.

Ruthy was shaken by the unpleasant encounter. She closed the barn door, watched Quince walk on tottering legs for a bit, then hurried inside.

By the time Luke came in, she was calm again and wondering why she’d let something so small upset her. It reminded her too much of Virgil—the son of the family who’d raised her when she’d been orphaned as a child. He wasn’t a drinker, but he’d liked putting his hands on her. She might be overly disturbed by Quince because of Virgil, and that wasn’t fair to the man. She set fried chicken on the table while Luke washed up. She decided not to talk about Quince grabbing her. But she could mention the
whiskey breath and unsteadiness because that made him a problem around the ranch.

Once settled to her meal, she said, “One of your hired men was the worse for drink when I saw him outside a bit ago.”

Luke had just torn a bite off a chicken leg, and he watched her closely as he chewed. After swallowing, he asked, “Who was it?”

Ruthy didn’t like the tone of Luke’s voice, and she hated to get one of the men fired. “The newest one, Quince Wilcox.”

Taking another bite of chicken, Luke mulled that over. “I know some of the men like to go into the saloon on payday. I don’t like it, but I’ve never felt right about saying they can’t, not as long as they don’t get into trouble in town. I always figured what a man does with his money and his time off is between him and God, so long as he don’t hurt anyone. But they usually keep that kind of ruckus in town and settle down after they’ve taken a chunk out of their month’s pay. I’ve never caught one back here drunk. Payday was two weeks ago. You say he was drinking now? Here on the ranch?”

Ruthy rested one hand on her rounded stomach and felt their child move. She hadn’t liked Quince touching her. But she didn’t like turning a man out of a job. Neither was she about to lie. “I didn’t see him drink, but I smelled liquor on his breath.”

“You smelled it?” Luke’s eyes sharpened until he was utterly focused on Ruthy—and he’d been paying real close attention already. “Just how close did Wilcox get to you?”

Luke had grown up here in Indian Territory in Texas. He’d fought in the Civil War, and when his pa had been
murdered and his ranch stolen he’d gotten it back by facing the man who’d killed his pa and battling it out. Luke was as sweet and gentle as a man could be, but there was no denying her husband was a tough man. It was one of the things she liked most about him.

But she felt guilty to say the words that would get a man fired. And she knew she
could
say those words. Luke was so protective he’d never keep a man around who bothered her in any way. All she’d have to say was that his actions had backed her into the barn and she’d been afraid to be shut up in the barn with him. “Well . . . uh, he staggered. I . . . I swung the barn door open right as he was passing. He stumbled into it. That was mostly my fault.” Except he was walking so close, while normally a person gave doors a wide berth just because they could swing open. She wondered if Wilcox had been leaning on the barn to keep himself steady. “It was when he stumbled that he got close enough I could smell his breath.”

Luke’s jaw formed a tight line, and he put his chicken back on the plate. A bad sign because not much came between Luke and her fried chicken.

“This just happened now? Tonight?” Luke’s tone gave Ruthy a little chill down her spine. She was glad she’d told him right away, because she knew he’d’ve been unhappy if she’d kept it from him, then he’d found out later somehow. He wouldn’t even like it if she waited until tomorrow to tell him.

“Yes, just after I milked the cow tonight.”

“So Wilcox was drinking during the workday?” Luke went back to eating his chicken.

No answer to that question was required, so Ruthy went on with her meal, too.

Luke finished in half the normal time. As he rose from the table, a knock sounded at the back door. He went to it, and Dodger, the S Bar S Ranch foreman, stood in the light cast from the kitchen lanterns.

“Are you all right?” Luke asked Dodger. Ruthy came up beside him.

“Yep, just getting back.” Dodger stepped inside. He was a mess. His right eye was swollen shut. His hat was missing. One sleeve of his coat was badly ripped, and he limped with every step. “I found a cow that’d dropped her calf and it had stumbled into a spring. The calf was soaking wet, shivering so bad I figured it wouldn’t survive without help. I had a time convincing the mama I oughta bring the baby in where it’s warm.”

“Get in here.” Luke stepped back.

Ruthy knew Dodger had been around since Luke was a boy. The foreman had white hair and a thick gray mustache. He wasn’t a fast-moving man, but there was no job on the ranch he’d ask anyone to do that he couldn’t do better himself. Ruthy had trusted him ever since he’d helped Luke get the S Bar S back from Flint Greer.

“Yep, that cow didn’t think I needed to touch her baby. But the calf’s in the barn now and the mama alongside it. They’ll be fine.”

“Sit down and share our meal.” Luke glanced at Ruthy.

She smiled and waved Dodger to the table. “There’s plenty. Get off your feet for a spell.”

“That chicken looks mighty good, Mrs. Stone. I’m sure the food in the bunkhouse has gone stone cold by now. I’m
obliged for the offer.” Dodger sank down at the kitchen table with a muffled groan. One arm went to his ribs, yet he didn’t complain. Ruthy resisted the urge to offer medical help. Dodger wouldn’t appreciate his weakness being pointed out. He was banged up, but if he was really hurt, he’d probably say so.

Ruthy bustled about, getting a plate and filling it with chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy. She laid a slice of freshly baked bread on the plate, pushed the butter and jelly closer to Dodger, poured everyone a fresh cup of coffee, and sat down to join them.

A few minutes of silence passed, the only sound that of their clinking silverware. Ruthy saw the determined expression on Luke’s face. But he bided his time, letting Dodger eat in peace.

Finally, Dodger swallowed the last bite and lifted his coffee cup, turning to Luke. “What’s going on, boss? I’ve seen that look before. It means there’s a problem.”

“There is a problem, for a fact. Wilcox was drunk today at work.”

Dodger set his cup down with a click of tin on wood. “He was?”

“He bumped into Ruthy. She smelled liquor on his breath.”

Dodger turned and locked his eyes on Ruthy until she wanted to squirm. “Is that all he did, ma’am? You’ve got a mighty kind heart. Are you saying less than the full truth because you’re worried about him losing his job?”

Luke turned to study Ruthy closely while waiting for an answer.

Dragging in a calming breath, Ruthy said, “I am worried
about him losing his job. We can’t have a drunkard around the place, but just because he had a drink today doesn’t mean it’s a habit.”

She hadn’t answered Dodger, not completely. She sincerely hoped no one noticed.

“More often than not, drinking during the day, especially a workday, does mean it’s a habit.” Dodger took a drink of his coffee.

Luke worked his jaw until she saw muscles tense in his face. She thought he was reading her mind, seeing the few moments when she’d been just a bit frightened.