To Know Her by Name (18 page)

Govern had come up the mountain more often. He was always out of money and running from someone. Pup found herself wishing that Jubal had come home a little more. He'd never been as hard as Govern; maybe she could have reasoned with him. It now looked as though it was too late. Even if he completely changed his ways, he was wanted for past crimes. Govern had clearly thought nothing of starting a gunfight with a treasury man in order to escape. Was Jubal as desperate?

Pup knew that such a line of questioning was pointless. She had no answers and each thought only raised more anxiety. However, before she could push Jubal completely from her mind, she wondered what she would do if she were ever expected to aid in his arrest. Such action could save his life, but she wasn't sure she could live with herself when it was all over and her brother was behind bars. But could she live with herself knowing that he was running loose and causing no end of pain for the people he helped to rob and cheat?

Enough!
Pup suddenly thought. Determined to put Jubal from her mind, she threw back the covers. Her garden was probably a mass of dried stalks, but she'd never find out just laying in bed. She was also in the mood for trout. The chances of her finding a fresh one to jump into her pan were slim to none; she'd have to get out her pole. It was time to go back to work, but Pup didn't dread it—she was home and that was all that mattered.

Thirteen days after McKay was told that Bryan Daniels was dead, he rode up the mountain on a rented horse yet again. Things had cooled slightly with Duncan Phipps. McKay had been assigned to two other banks for spot checks. The last one was a job that had not required many days' work, and from there he'd packed his things, paid Mrs. Meyer a few weeks' rent, and headed for the train station. His last conversation with Carlyle played on his mind with every rocking sway of the passenger car.

“What's really going on here, McKay?” the older man wanted to know.

“I'm not sure I know what you mean.”

“Only that this is all rather sudden.”

McKay had been quiet for a moment. “I don't mean any disrespect, Carlyle, but it's easy for the men who work in the home office to look at agents as work animals.” Carlyle had looked so surprised that McKay had stopped and tried again.

“Do you know how many years it's been since I took a vacation, Carlyle?”

The other man paused to think and then shook his head no.

“It's been at least two years, if not longer. I go home for the weekend from time to time, and even take an extra day now and again, but it's not the same.”

“So this doesn't have anything to do with Callie Jennings?”

“Yes, it does,” McKay admitted, surprising the older man, “but not the way you think.”

Carlyle still looked confused, so McKay tried again.

“I always go home through Boulder, and on the way I'm planning to stop and see how she's doing. She's accustomed to being on her own, but where I come from a woman gets tender care and nurturing. The first time I met Callie she was a woman, not a man. I can't get that image from my mind. Nick Wallace had no problem sending her away on her own. I'm not comfortable with that. I don't know if she needs anything or not, but the last few months have been rather rough on her. I was the cause of some of her problems, and since I care about her well-being I'm going to check on her. If my sister had had a rough time and had no close family, I would hope someone would check on her.

“From there I'm headed home to be surrounded by my family. I'd like to visit with them knowing I don't have to leave in two days. I don't get much of that anymore and usually that's fine, but right now I'm tired and need a break. I'm also going to ask Callie Jennings if she wants to join me in Longmont. She doesn't have much family left, and I know she'd enjoy mine. I think she needs to be nurtured even more than I do.”

McKay could see that he'd surprised Carlyle with this admission, but also that he appreciated the younger man's honesty. The older man's hand had come out in genuine friendship.

“Have a good trip, McKay. I'll miss the hard work you put in, but more than that I hope you find everything you're looking for.”

It was this last statement that lingered in McKay's mind.
What am I looking for?
He didn't really know, but that didn't stop his climb up the mountain. He'd been this way twice before, but the foliage was thicker this time, and twice he had to backtrack. It was much later than he'd planned by the time he rode into the clearing in front of Pup's cabin.

Pup sat down at the kitchen table and pulled the boots from her feet. She was tired and achy and couldn't wait for sundown so she could bathe in the lake. She'd carried water for days to revive her plants, and they now looked like they were going to make it. It looked as if Mud or someone else had given them a little water, and most of them were going to survive. The potatoes were sure to be on the small side, but she would take what she got.

The boots finally off, it was time for dinner. Pup had just picked up the coffeepot when she heard the horse. Her gun, always handy, was in her grasp when someone called from outside. Pup opened the door and stared in disbelief at McKay as he stood in the clearing beyond her porch—tall and handsome—his saddlebags hanging from his hand, his rifle in the other.

“Bad time?” McKay asked quietly.

“No.” Pup remembered her manners and watched as he started forward. “Come in.” She backed up so he could enter. “I was just about to fix something to eat. Are you hungry?”

“Actually I am,” he said as he recognized the gnawing in his stomach.

He watched her turn away, and as she did, she tripped over a boot lying on the floor. It was then that McKay remembered what he might be letting himself in for.

“Can I help?” he offered out of self-preservation as well as a need to do something besides stand there.

“Sure,” she said with her back still to him. “I'll start the coffee if you want to peel some potatoes.”

“Okay. I've got some salt pork in my saddlebags if you want that.”

“You should hold onto it. I have a rabbit that has to be eaten today.”

Her voice was completely normal, and McKay said only, “All right.”

He began to peel potatoes and for some reason felt oddly tongue-tied. She was so much the same, her dress was faded and stained, and other than her hair, still cut very short, she looked the same. Still McKay did not know what to say. He had not known who she was the last time they were in this cabin. Why that made a difference now he couldn't say, but it did.

“What is this, a stew?”

“Yeah, I've got the meat ready, but the carrots need to be washed.”

“I'll clean them up.”

McKay did this and silence again prevailed, causing McKay to be slightly uncomfortable. A glance out the side of his eyes told him Pup was busy and not noticing. They worked with little conversation for the next 30 minutes until the pot was boiling on the stove. Knowing it would need some time to cook, Pup put the lid on and finally turned to look at McKay.

“How have you been?” he asked her.

“All right. How about you?”

“Fine. I'm tired and headed home for some time off. You headed out on another job soon?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.”

Pup cocked her head. “Why is that good?”

“Because I want you to go to Longmont with me.”

Pup blinked at him. McKay had been planning to wait at least until they'd sat down to dinner, but suddenly saw that now was the time.

“Why?”

“Because I think you need a rest, too.”

“I can rest here.”

“I want you to come with me.”

Pup shook her head. “Thanks, McKay, but I'll stay here.” As usual, she thought this was the end of it.

“You'd enjoy it.”

Pup, who had been on the verge of setting the table, stopped and looked at him.

“My family's home is not right in town.” His voice was persuasive. “It's out a ways, at the base of the peaks. The setting is perfect.”

Pup never even blinked.

“There's a lake.”

Still no response.

“Come on, Callie. Just say yes.”

“You're a nag—do you know that, McKay?”

“I am not!” He was as indignant as the first time she had accused him, but Pup ignored him. Having heard enough, she moved toward the door, headed outside, and walked right past her boots. Not so easily put off, McKay was right on her trail.

“I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you would have a good time,” he said as he followed her. “You'd love my parents. My sister lives close by with her husband, and they have a baby. The baby's name is Marcus. Are you listening to me, Callie?” he now asked as he trailed her to the lake.

“No.”

“Well, at least I got an answer,” he went on. “Ask me anything; I'll tell you all about it.”

“About what?” She now stopped by the water and looked at him, her brow creased in confusion.

“About Longmont,” McKay said simply.

Pup growled low in her throat and turned away from him.

“I know you'll love it.” He continued to badger her.

“I won't love it, McKay, because I'm not going.”

“My mother loves to cook, and you could sleep in my sister's old room. It looks out over the mountains.”

“No, McKay.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't want to.”

“Yes, you do; you just don't know it.”

“No, McKay,” she said again, wondering why she even bothered. She moved closer to the lake, hoping he wouldn't follow.

“Come on, Callie,” he tried again, still staying very close. “What are you afraid of?”

McKay watched her start suddenly and wondered if he'd finally gotten through. He was still talking when she sat on a fallen log by the lakeshore and stared across the water. McKay's tirade had gone on for at least a minute straight when Pup quietly said, “All right, I'll go with you.”

McKay blinked.

“Just like that?” he asked, but she didn't answer. “Well,” he said slowly, some of the enthusiasm leaving him in the midst of his surprise, “I know you'll have a wonderful time.” But when she still didn't look at him, he moved close enough to really see her face. She looked pale, and there was a small strip of moisture over her upper lip.

“What is it, Callie?” he whispered softly. “What have I done?”

She finally looked at him. “I've stepped on something, McKay.” Her voice was breathless. “It's in my foot.”

“Which foot?” he asked, but she couldn't answer.

McKay looked down and noticed for the first time that she was in stocking feet. Grasping her ankle he lifted her right foot carefully and checked the bottom. Seeing nothing, he reached for the left. Protruding from the tender flesh of her arch was a fishhook. Her stocking was already stained with blood. McKay felt a chill go over him at the thought of her pain.

“Okay, Callie,” he said quietly, carefully letting go of her ankle. “I'm going to lift you now and carry you back to the cabin.”

She didn't answer or protest once she was in his arms, and McKay, a rush of protection filling him, thought she weighed little more than a child. It wasn't two minutes before he was placing her on the well-worn sofa, careful not to bump her foot against anything. Pup rested her head back the moment he laid her down, so she missed the appearance of his pocketknife. She felt a pull at the stocking around her ankle and then the cool air as he cut it free and tried to bare her foot.

“I've got to take it out, Callie. I can't remove the stocking unless I do,” she heard him say, but the pain was making her sick. Her hand went over her mouth as he grasped the hook and removed it. She felt the pressure of a dry cloth against her sole, but she was too busy gasping for air to move or speak. Her whole frame trembled with the intensity of the pain, but she never spoke or cried out. She felt more movement down at her foot just before a cold wet cloth was placed against her face. McKay tenderly wiped her face and then folded the cloth to place across her brow. Pup opened her eyes to find his face close above her.