The Texan's Reward (16 page)

day thinking that she must be whining. Now, he wondered how she could have stood being wedged in his saddle

or even riding in a buggy.

“I had to soak most of her underthings to get them off. The blood had dried them to her skin.” Marla let out a

little cry. “She must have been stripped for the beating and then forced to dress without being doctored.”

He made himself see all the damage. The places her young skin had been torn apart and scabbed over. The spots

where yellow pus festered just beneath the surface of her flesh. The bruises that would eventual y heal, the

broken skin that would scar. He needed to see it al , so he could remember when he found whoever had hurt

Wednesday.

Nell rolled closer and gently placed the sheet over the girl’s back.

Without anyone saying a word, Marla pulled Nell’s chair backward into the hallway. Jacob closed the door so

softly it didn’t make a sound. The three of them moved down to Nel ’s room.

“Who could have done that?” Nel ’s anger didn’t surprise him. “Her father? Could he have hurt her that badly

and then left her?”

Marla shook her head as she knelt in front of Nell. “I said I wouldn’t tell, but I’m afraid some of the blisters are

already infected, and I’m not sure what to do.”

Jacob stood in the shadows by the door. With her back to him, the cook seemed to have forgotten he was there.

He wanted to move closer, but he couldn’t risk Marla being too shy to finish.

She continued, “I had to beg her to let me clean it. At first I thought it was only a scrape on her shoulder. I

thought I’d put on a little of the cream the doctor gives me for my hands. Then I saw her back.”

“Who?” Nell asked again. “Did she tel you who beat her?”

Marla’s thin hands shook.

Nell’s voice softened. “It’s all right, Marla. We’ll find whoever did this to her. What matters is that she’s safe

with us now. Just tel me who hurt her.”

“Her stepmother,” Marla cried. “Wednesday said the woman would have killed her if her father hadn’t taken her

away. That’s why he left her in the woods, so her stepmother couldn’t find her. He must have thought it was her

only chance.”

Nel glanced up at Jacob, tears in her eyes. “They can’t come take her back, can they?”

He shook his head, knowing that legal y they probably could. He wanted to find the parents, but maybe not

searching would keep Wednesday safe. If he sent no telegrams out, no one would know that she was here.

Nell’s place wasn’t on any main road. Even if the father changed his mind, he’d have a hard time tracking them

here.

The lawman in him wanted to see justice, but he knew that even if he could get proof of the beating to a judge,

nothing would be done. Some folks might even say that she’d given them good reason to beat her, and there

was no law against disciplining children, even harshly. At most, the parents would probably be fined. Which

would make them even madder at Wednesday.

He moved out of the way so that Marla could leave without looking at him. Sheriff Parker told him once that

Marla grew up an only child of a widowed mother who made her living as a cook. Parker said the mother had

been a bitter old woman who blamed all her troubles on men and believed a good daughter was a silent,

hardworking one. Jacob felt sorry for Marla. He wondered, if in her way, she wasn’t as scarred as Wednesday

would be when she healed.

Jacob closed the door. “Want me to lift you into bed?”

Nell shook her head. “I’m too angry to sleep.”

Jacob moved to the chair by the window. He wasn’t sure it would hold his weight, so he lowered himself slowly.

The thing looked more like a pillow someone had tied ribbons around and tried to make it look like a chair.

Nell rolled to the other side of a small table across from him. For a few minutes, they both watched the night

sky. Neither bothered to turn on a light other than the smal lantern Gypsy always left burning when she turned

down the bed. But even in shadow, Jacob could see the sorrow on Nel ’s face.

“What do you want me to do?” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I could try to find the

parents. There’s not much official y I could do, but I could threaten them with prison.”

She reached for his hand. “Do you think they’d come for her even if they knew where she was?”

Jacob shook his head. He thought of adding that he hoped not, but things were bad enough without Nel having

to worry about what might happen if they showed up.

“She can stay here with me.” Nell lifted her head.

“She needs you,” Jacob said. “You can offer her a safe place. Not even the law can do that.”

They were silent for a while. He turned her hand over in his and brushed her palm with his thumb. He liked the

way her hand fit, her long fingers lacing easily between his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what? For bringing trouble to your door?”

“No. For letting me help. It makes me feel like, if I can do her some good, I’m not worthless.”

He shifted on the frilly chair, frustrated that he couldn’t say what needed saying. He stared out the window,

hoping he could make her understand before he turned and looked at her. “You real y have no idea how

priceless you are, Nell.”

Her smile was sad. “I’m afraid I’m far more aware of all the things I can’t do.”

“You don’t realize what you do or how much you mean to so many people.” He gripped the arms of her

wheelchair and pulled it as close as their knees would allow.

She shrugged and didn’t meet his gaze. “My money may help, but most of the time people would get along just

fine without me. I offer nothing meaningful.”

“Yes, you do,” he answered, brushing his fingers across her jaw until she looked at him.

“Oh, yeah?” She tried to smile. “Name one.”

“You offer the only beauty in my life.”

Before she could respond, he kissed her lightly, then stood as if he’d shown her a side of himself he hadn’t

meant to.

“I’d better be getting to the barn. I want to check that gate before I turn in, and I plan to rattle every door,

making sure they’re all locked.”

“Jacob?” He was almost across the room before her voice stopped him.

“Jacob,” she said again in little more than a whisper.

He turned, figuring she’d laugh at him. He and Nel had talked more about feelings tonight than they had al the

times they’d been together over ten years. At this rate he’d probably turn into a poet or some fool thing within

the week.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he answered and hurried out the door.

He was halfway down the stairs when he realized he had no idea why she thanked him or why, in hel ’s name,

he’d said you’re welcome. He should have thanked her for the evening. Sitting out by the windmil was a time

he’d think about in the months ahead when he was out on the road alone. Maybe she was thanking him for the

kiss.

Moving into the night air, he shook his head. She hadn’t thanked him for kissing her before. And, to his surprise,

it was something he was getting used to doing regularly. Before he knew it, he might just develop kissing as a

habit.

Jacob smiled and ran his thumb over his lips as he walked toward the barn. The thought that kissing her might

feel so right hadn’t occurred to him before. He wouldn’t mind it becoming a habit.

Glancing up to her window, he noticed Marla’s shadow standing beside Nell’s chair. They probably couldn’t see

him in the darkness, but he could tel they were talking, and he was glad Nel had others to worry about besides

herself.

Almost to the barn, Jacob stumbled over the preacher. Like a drunken brawler, Brother Aaron came up swinging

and quoting scripture.

Jacob dodged him and disappeared into the blackness. Tonight, al he wanted to do was find a quiet place to

think. He’d apologize to the preacher in the morning.

FROM THE LANDING AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, NELL stared down at the open room below. Her dining table, to

the left of the study, was already loaded down with breakfast. On Mondays, Marla always made pecan

pancakes. Gypsy and the cook usual y took their breakfast in the kitchen, and Nel ate her meals by the window

in her bedroom. Only today, and every day that she could from now on, Nel promised herself she’d dress and

eat downstairs. At least while she had someone to carry her to ground level.

This morning, Marla filled the table with dishes for company, extra bowls of eggs, ham, and bread just in case

her pancakes weren’t hardy enough. She’d left a chair empty and made gravy, knowing the sheriff would

probably show up.

Mr. Harrison had already taken his seat at one end of the table. He studied the paper as though he found it

fascinating. Nell noticed he glanced up and smiled when Marla refilled his coffee. Nell couldn’t tell if Marla

raised her head enough to smile back. Harrison’s shirt looked freshly washed, and Nell guessed Marla had done

it for him late last night, then dried it by the stove.

Nell listened as the preacher told Gypsy about his fight with the devil in the dark. The old man reminded her of

an actor onstage making his words come alive. Gypsy stared at him with wide, almost colorless eyes.

“He came at me while I was sleeping beneath the stars,” Brother Aaron’s voice rose, “with eyes as red as fire and

smoke coming out of his nose. The first thing he did was strike me with his head. I’m sure he thought to kil me

with one blow. Rage circled like a storm around him when he noticed I didn’t die, and he hurried off, hoping to

escape before I woke up enough to fight back.”

“I think I’ve seen that fel ow you’re talking about,” Gypsy answered as she leaned on the corner of the dining

table while the preacher pul ed out one of the chairs. “He used to come in some nights, back years ago. Big guy

with meanness scribbled all over him.”

The preacher was far more interested in his story than in her comments. “He must have been ten foot tall and

broad as a door.” Brother Aaron waved his hands wildly. “He was out to get me, I tel you. If I’d have been a

weaker man, I’d have died of pure fright.” The reverend raised his shaggy white hair to reveal a knot on one side

of his forehead. “But I’m stronger than he thought. I lived through the war, and the devil wil have to send an

army if he plans to take me away from my quest of saving sinners.”

Harrison raised his gaze from the paper he’d been reading, and the preacher’s voice grew louder to include the

swelling crowd. “Lord . . .” Brother Aaron looked to heaven. “I’m ready to come home whenever you cal me, but

I’ll not let the devil draw me down. This warrior of your word will fight as long as there is breath in me. I’ll give

up sleep if I have to so the devil wil not be able to come on me unannounced.”

Gypsy glanced up as if expecting to see who he was talking to.

“Lord,” Brother Aaron continued, “I know the devil got a hold on me because of the drink, and I’m mighty sorry

about that. But I swear to you, just like I did back in Abilene, that I’ll never touch Satan’s nectar again.”

In confusion, Gypsy’s brow creased into a hundred wrinkles.

“Liquor,” Harrison clarified, looking slightly bored.

She nodded and turned back to the preacher. “Did the devil get you drunk before or after he tried to kil you?”

Her question pul ed the preacher out of his conversation with the Almighty. “That’s it!” he shouted. “I would

never have taken a drink if it had not been the devil offering it to me. He must have been planning to kil me and

put the drink in front of me so I’d be too blind to see his plot. Oh, he’s far more evil than even I thought. Drink

made me let down my guard.”

“I’ve said the same thing myself on occasion.” Gypsy offered the preacher a cup. “You want a little hair of the

dog in this coffee? I keep a bottle in the kitchen for breakfast and mornings after I’ve had a hard night fighting

the devil.”

Jacob opened the door and entered as the preacher pushed back from the table and jumped up. “Get thee

behind me, Satan!”

Gypsy looked around him. Then she smiled at the ranger, her attention redirected. “Morning, Dalton, you want

coffee?”

Jacob pul ed up a chair next to Harrison. Both men nodded their greeting.

Harrison pointed with his coffee. “The reverend was telling us that he ran into the devil last night in the dark

outside the barn.”

Nell laughed from above. Mr. Harrison wasn’t buying into the preacher’s story, but Gypsy circled the old man

asking to see the bump again. She wanted to touch where the devil hit him.

Jacob didn’t comment but stood and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Are you ready to come down?” He

grinned. “I’d be honored to escort you.”

“Yes, please,” she answered and watched him take the stairs two at a time. “I’m afraid I might miss some of the

reverend’s story.”

“I doubt that it’s possible for anyone within a hundred yards to miss his sermon. I heard his story from the

road.”

When he lifted her out of the chair and into his arms, she brushed his sand-colored hair off his forehead and

noticed a bruise at the hairline. “You have a run-in with the devil as well?”

He winked. “I’ll never tell.”

As he carried her down, the preacher whirled around with his eyes closed, his great black coat flying like wings.

“I understand, Lord. I get the message. You’re speaking to me loud and clear. The path is before me, and I’l not

hesitate. You’ve brought me to this place for a reason.”