A Man with a Past by Mary Connealy
THIRTY-FIVE
Cheyenne woke with a start, sat up as if a bolt of lightning had hit her in the backside. Then she was on her feet, twisting around to see Wyatt. Still more unconscious than asleep. His face red from the fever. Wet from Molly’s relentless cool bathing.
Molly worked on. She raised her eyes for a brief second to look at Cheyenne, then went to wring out her cloth. “We need more ice.”
Cheyenne took one step before she realized Andy was there. He grabbed the basin he’d brought ice in before and ran.
Then Cheyenne looked more closely at Molly. “When’s the last time you slept?”
Molly rested the cloth on Wyatt’s forehead before she answered. “I slept some in the night.”
But Cheyenne hadn’t slept much, and she’d never seen Molly stop. Somewhere along the line, near morning because the sun was just barely up now, Cheyenne must have tipped over and slept beside her brother while Molly worked on.
“Let me take over. You look ready to collapse.”
“There should be two people with him, and one of them has to be you. Win and Kevin finally went to bed. I’ll rest when they get back and after I’ve made breakfast.” The look Molly gave Cheyenne was strange. Calm, but something more, something deeply buried. Cheyenne was just too worried and too tired to figure out what it was, but Molly had a fire tamped down inside, and like a pot boiling with the lid on too tight, Cheyenne thought this hardworking woman needed to let off a little steam before she exploded.
Sleep might be a good place to start.
“Amelia used to be the housekeeper at the Hawkins Ranch. She can cook while you sleep.”
Molly sniffed but didn’t say anything, just went back to fighting Wyatt’s fever.
He stirred. “Cheyenne, Chey!”
He’d said that so many times. Cheyenne sat beside him, took his hand, and talked to him. It calmed him to know, in his confused state, that she was there. His big sister who had always been there was with him still.
He was agitated, which was as close as he got to being awake. While Cheyenne soothed, Molly got more herbed drink into him, more water. She even got him to swallow a few spoons of broth. Then Molly made up fresh ice packs and put one behind his neck. One over top of his head. She set one on each side of his belly and chest. By the time she finished, the willow bark and yarrow seemed to calm him.
“He’s going to get well, isn’t he?” Cheyenne hated how weak she sounded, like a child asking an adult for comforting lies.
“I think he will, Cheyenne.” Molly reached across Wyatt’s still body and clutched Cheyenne’s wrist. “A fever is normal for a wound like this. The wonder is it didn’t come up that first night before you and Falcon left. I rebandaged the wound while you were sleeping. There’s no sign of infection. And the tea works to fight off the fever. If it was going too high and we couldn’t bring it down, I’d be more worried.”
“We caught the bad guys. I haven’t even told anybody. And that woman downstairs is Amelia Bishop, the woman Mrs. Hobart, the Pinkerton agent, was looking for.”
“And where are these bad men you caught?”
Molly sounded almost like she was being sarcastic.
Cheyenne decided to ignore that. “We hauled four men into Bear Claw Pass, then brought Amelia home with us. We sent a message to the Hawkins Ranch for Hobart as well as messages to two other area ranches that we’d arrested four of their men. Well, not four of their men. Two of the men are dead, and one of those still alive is from the RHR. No matter, the ranchers need to come in. There are cattle to round up. We need to ride to town to talk to the sheriff, and Falcon and I decided we’d get married.”
“What?” Molly squeaked.
Cheyenne felt her face heat up at the same time she took some satisfaction in surprising snippy Molly.
“I reckon we’ll get hitched when we get to town. But we aren’t going to town until I’m sure Wyatt is out of the woods.”
A movement brought her eyes to the doorway.
Falcon stood there, his usual rumpled self with messy hair, homespun clothes, and scruffy face. She was so in love with him.
He smiled at her as if he knew her thoughts. “Rachel Hobart is here, and she headed straight for the room with your ma’s painting. That’s where Amelia is. I think she’s kinda tryin’ to hide. You want to come down and talk to them? We can’t let Amelia go until we’ve talked to the sheriff, and Hobart’s got a look in her eye that makes me wonder if she might just swipe her away, head east for Amelia’s family.”
Cheyenne surged to her feet, then looked back at Wyatt. “I can’t leave him.”
Molly sounded weary when she said, “Go on. I’ll call you if he gets upset again.”
Someone really needed to take over and let Molly sleep. Maybe Hobart knew some doctoring. She’d probably had a solid night’s sleep.
“I won’t be long.”
Molly snorted.
Cheyenne would have lost her temper and said a few things to remind Molly of whose house this was and that she was an intruder, but Cheyenne was afraid she’d stop wringing every ounce of her skill out to save Wyatt’s life, and besides, Cheyenne was too busy running for the stairs.
“I told you to wait, consarn it!” Falcon rushed for the back door and slammed it shut just as Hobart was pulling it open, with Amelia firmly in hand.
Rachel Hobart turned back, rolled her eyes, and, still with a firm grip on Amelia, led her captive—or her partner in the escape, Falcon wasn’t sure which—to the kitchen table. They sat down.
Cheyenne asked Amelia, “Do you know how to cook?”
“Yes, I’m a very good cook, why?”
“Just asking. We’ll discuss it more later.” Cheyenne sat at the head of the table.
“I told you we needed Amelia to explain what went on out there to the sheriff.” Falcon stomped around the table and sat down to face the pair. Amelia had a faint pink blush on her cheeks. She knew she’d been caught.
Hobart looked as steady as stone. She only narrowed her eyes at Falcon. “You don’t need her. The sheriff will believe the story you and Cheyenne tell. We can catch the train if we hurry. Otherwise it might be a week. And I don’t want any trouble with Hawkins. He won’t be happy to have me quit, and he’ll be furious about Amelia.”
Falcon slammed the side of his fist down hard on the table. “You’re staying. If it’s a week, then so be it. She’s staying.” Then he turned to look at Amelia. “We rescued you. We probably saved your life ’cuz you were gettin’ ready to light out, and those men might’ve killed you, fearin’ you’d talk, tell their secrets. We need you to tell your story to the sheriff before you go, and that’s that.”
Amelia shrugged and slumped into her chair. “I just want to go home. I’m sure I’ve broken my mother’s heart, and my father has spent a fortune searching for me. My brother and father would never stop searching. I want to go home, end their grieving.”
“Send a wire,” Cheyenne snapped.
“Hobart, you can just ride on into town and wire her father with the good news,” Falcon said. “Tell him you’ll bring her home as soon as possible. He doesn’t know when the train comes through. Today or a week from today.”
Then to Amelia, he said, “Are you trying to hide something? Are you going to end up locked up right alongside your husband’s outlaw friends? Seems strange to me you’d be so het up to leave, knowing there’ll be a lot of questions asked by the law. That’s a betrayal to my way of thinking, and we don’t deserve that. We might even have trouble making our case stand without you. Cheyenne and I might stand trial for murder if you leave.”
Amelia straightened up and rested her elbows on the table. “I’m sorry. I just want to go home. Hobart wants this to be over. And I feel like the danger is still around. We shouldn’t have tried to run.”
“You’re right about that.” Cheyenne shoved her chair back and stood up. “Amelia, we’ve got a lot of folks to feed, and my brother is upstairs fighting for his life. Make breakfast for about ten people. Falcon, stay and watch them so they don’t run off.” She strode toward the stairs. “And Hobart, whatever a Pinkerton is, for the last few months you’ve been a housekeeper, which should mean you can cook, too. Help Amelia. I’ve gotta take care of my brother.”
Her feet pounding up the stairs drowned out any reply the two women might’ve had.