Badland Bride (19 page)

Lila twisted, glanced to the pillow beside her. It was full, held no indention, yet her dream had been so real, so vivid, and an invisible, yet calm sense of well-being hovered about.

Rubbing swollen eyes, she sat up and glanced around the empty room. Her gaze settled on the closed door and a rock hit the pit of her stomach. Had she told Ma Quinter she was giving away the baby?

"Oh, Skeeter,” she mumbled. “I'm so sorry."

She could almost hear his lilting laugh.

"It's not funny. She's sure to pitch a fit.” Lila rebuked and hid her face behind her hands, huffed in the cupped air.

Someone must have sensed she was awake because the door latch turned. The click echoed into the room. Lila peeked between her fingers and lowered her hands with relief as Jessie walked in.

"Feeling better?” the woman asked.

She was remarkably better. Lila nodded and flipped the covers aside.

"No, stay there. A day in bed won't hurt you."

"I-I um, I have to go to the bathroom."

Jessie leaned down, pulled a flowered chamber pot out from beneath the bed.

Lila shook her head. “No.” She couldn't get used to the idea of peeing in a container that looked like a punch bowl, minus the cups of course.

"Well, all right. Kid got the new one in the washroom installed before he left. I suppose you can use it."

Lila stood, arched the stiffness from her back. “Before he left?"

Jessie nodded, took her elbow to guide her to the door.

"Where did he go?"

"To find Skeeter."

"He did?” Lila paused, not wanting to leave the room just yet.

Jessie smiled. “Yes, he did. Don't fret, he'll find him, and they'll be home before you know it."

"Oh, I hope so. I so hope so."

"They will be. Trust me.” Jessie led her out of the room.

From the top of the steps Lila looked down, gazed around the empty area. “Where is every one?"

"Here and there. The hands are finishing up the barn. The chickens and milk cow are settled in, and Joe, our ranch foreman, drove in a small herd of beef cattle today."

Lila nodded, pondering the information as she stepped from the stairs and moved toward the water closet off the kitchen. When she'd agreed to Skeeter's plan of building a house for them, she never imagined it would be so complex. What would happen to all the animals when they went to the future? Chickens, cows, cattle. Hog had made a trip into the small town of Me-lo-te Switch and bought a couple of pigs as well. They now had a complete hobby ranch someone would need to tend to once they left.

It was all so much more multifaceted than she'd imagined it would be. She'd lived on her own for several years, but it was so different in the future. There, all she needed was the local grocery store, didn't have to worry about animals, other than her cat, which in all honesty, wasn't really her cat. Tabby was a neighborhood stray. Everyone fed it, and it didn't call anyplace home, roamed from doorstep to doorstep on its own free will.

Finishing her business, she pulled the chain hanging from the holding tank near her head, surprisingly the highly decorated bowl worked just like the modern ones. She would have chuckled if her life didn't seem so dismal.

Leaving the room, she walked to the kitchen table. “When did Kid leave?"

Jessie stood near the stove, ladling soup into a bowl. “Several hours ago. Would you like to eat here at the table, or back up in your room?"

Her stomach growled, giving her mind no chance to refuse the food. “Here, I think."

"Sit down then. Hog made a pot of chicken soup. It's very good.” Jessie set the bowl and a spoon on the table. “Have I told you about his cookbook?"

Lila shook her head as she took a spoonful.

"It has all of his best recipes in it. We were going to send it to New York to a publisher, but decided they were too good to tell others about. He only shares them with family.” Jessie sat down. “I made a copy of it for you. It's in the buffet drawer."

Lila swallowed the last spoonful of soup that Campbell's would die for, before she let her mind wonder to the day's events. Her gaze went to the large fireplace.

"One of the hands framed it and hung it up for you,” Jessie said as her gaze landed on the painting.

Her temples started to pound. “Jessie, did I really tell Stephanie I was giving this baby away? Or was that part a dream?"

Jessie sucked in a small gulp of air. “Sorry. It wasn't a dream."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too."

Skeeter strolled into the excavation site, gesturing to Yokel as he made his way toward the man. They met in the middle of the yard. “We need to talk. But first, where's my brother?” He scanned the men, looking for Bug.

"Bug?” Yokel asked.

"Yes.” Skeeter took a closer around the area. “Are one of my other brothers here?"

"No, just Bug, but he rode out not long after you did this morning. He thought you were headed to your house.” Yokel pulled the white gloves off his hands. “Why?"

"I'd hoped he was still here.” Skeeter sighed. Might as well add Bug to his list of worries. Odd, once a man finds one thing to worry about, others just stack up. He twisted about, pointed to an open-sided tent. “Let's talk over there."

Gathered into bulky wads, the sides of the tent had been pulled back and tied to the four poles holding the flapping roof overhead. The wind tugged on the canvas, tried to lift it into the current and carry it away on the steady breeze. Thankfully it didn't, because the shade it provided from the afternoon heat was much needed. Skeeter wiped his forehead then the back of his neck with his bandana.

Yokel sat, pointed to the other chair beside a lopsided table. “What's wrong? You're making me feel as antsy as a cat on a tin roof."

Skeeter took a breath and sat, steadying the chair on the uneven ground by planting both heels into the dirt. “Where's Johansson?"

Yokel glanced around; an indifferent shrug lifted his shoulders. “Don't know, ain't seen him lately."

"Have you seen him today?"

A deep scowl covered the other man's face. “Now that you mention it, no, I ain't seen him all day.” He shook his head. “Not even at breakfast."

Skeeter held the huff of breath growing in his chest. “How long have you known him?"

"Since spring, Cope hired him right before we left Pennsylvania. Said he had good references."

Skeeter nodded. “From who?"

Yokel reached down, picked up a rock to fiddle with. “I don't know. I never asked."

"I think you should have. There's a gang of men. Not many, six or seven, and they've been watching the area. My guess is they're waiting for you to pull out.” He paused, made sure he had the other man's full attention. “Then ambush your load."

"Shit!” The rock sailed through the air, landed with a thud in the higher grasses growing beyond the tent. “You've seen these men?"

"Yes, but they didn't see us. Buffalo Killer and his braves are watching them."

"Good, then we can capture them.” Yokel shifted, as if ready to rise from his chair. “Send someone for the Sheriff in Collyer."

Skeeter shook his head. “Not yet. I think Johansson's in cahoots with them.” He pointed toward the diggers. “Hard saying how many others could be as well."

Looking startled, Yokel leaned back in his chair. “Surely not the Cavalry men."

"Maybe not, but you must have close to fifty men out here. How many can you guarantee are not in cahoots with Johansson and Marsh?"

Yokel sighed, pinched his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “No more than a handful."

"That's what I thought.” Skeeter ran a hand over the table top, drummed his fingers. “I think you should carry on as usual. The braves will let us know if the men plan an attack. In the mean time, ask around a bit, see if you can figure out who else might be in with Marsh."

Yokel nodded. “Was Johansson with the men you saw?"

"No.” Skeeter shook his head. Hawkins wasn't with the men either. He wondered if one of Marsh's men had been the man Buffalo Hunter had seen, some of them had facial hair. But the brave insisted none of them were the man he'd seen leaving the tunnel. Feeling a gaze, Skeeter glanced up. Yokel was looking at him questionably. “No, I'm sure he wasn't with them. You haven't seen him, uh?"

"No, and that's odd."

His spine stiffened. “Why do you say that?"

"He's scared shitless of snakes. Hasn't left camp since we arrived."

"Boss! Boss!” A man ran toward the tent. Huffing for air as he stopped near a pole, he exclaimed, “You gotta come quick."

Yokel jumped, his chair toppling behind him. “What? What did you find?"

The man laid a hand on Yokel's shoulder. “A body."

"A body?” Yokel asked doubtfully.

"A man's body."

"Where?” Skeeter stood.

"At yesterday's site. There's a small cave, we went inside to get out of the sun for a few minutes."

"Show us!” Skeeter grabbed the man's arm. They raced across the site, gathering men as they ran. Skidding to a halt beside two men standing guard outside a small opening, he said, “Move aside."

"No, Mr. Quinter, I don't think you should be the one to go in there."

A river of shivers raked his body. “What the hell?” He pushed the man aside, bent over and squeezed through the narrow opening. Once inside he stood again, the area was quite large, but dark. He blinked, tried to focus.

The dank, musty area blazed with light as Yokel stepped in behind him, holding a coal oil lamp. “There,” Yokel said, pointing to the far wall.

Unexplained chills raced up his arms and legs as he moved toward the prone body. Recognition hit him like a two-by-four. Fire ripped at his throat. “Oh, God, Bug.” He crouched next to his brother's side. The dirt near Bug's pasty face was dark with dried blood. Skeeter ran a hand beneath Bug's head, lifted it. “Bug! Bug!"

Yokel stepped closer, shined the light over the body. Bug's smooth, teenage skin glistened in the glow of the lamp. A jagged, dark gash ran along the side of his head.

A tight knot formed in his chest, stealing the air from his lungs. Skeeter leaned his head down, pressed Bug's face to his neck. Every muscle went tight, his guts churned with bile. “No, not you Bug, not you."

A faint tickle rolled across the sensitive skin below his ear. He pulled his head up, pressed a hand to Bug's neck. A faint flutter rippled beneath his fingertips. His heart leaped into high gear. “Get me a wagon!"

"Mr. Quinter, I'm so sor—"

Skeeter twisted. “He's not dead! Get me a wagon! Now!"

"You men get in here! And send someone for a wagon. This man's not dead!” Yokel shouted. The men instantly scrambled into action.

Skeeter carried Bug himself. Though his brother probably weighed as much as he, the weight seemed slight. The bright sun made his eyes water as he crawled into the back of the wagon and settled his little brother so he could cradle his head during the rough ride. All the while he prayed, prayed like Ma had taught him years ago.

Yokel handed him a medical bag. “I'll send a man with your horse."

Skeeter set the bag beside him, nodded his thanks, and turned to give the driver directions. The words stilled in his throat as two horses skid to halt. Kid and Snake looked at him expectantly.

"It's Bug, Kid. Someone hurt him bad. We gotta get him to the house.” He turned to Snake. “On top of that ridge is a small Indian party. Tell Buffalo Killer what happened. Tell him to leave his braves here and meet us at the house."

Snake nodded and spurred his horse as Skeeter yelled to the driver, “Move out!"

Lila couldn't stay in the bedroom any longer. Even facing the wrath of Ma Quinter in her holy-roller role would be better than staring at the four walls. After her bowl of soup, Jessie had ushered her back up here. Lila tried to rest, but it was no use, her mind was spinning like a ceiling fan. Everything she knew about herself no longer held true. It was as if she was a stranger—to herself, and didn't know how to relate to this person. Could loving someone change a person this much? Make everything they thought they knew wrong?

She moved to the window and pulled aside the heavy curtain. The retreating sun barely peeked over the horizon, calmly slipping away after having done a full day's work of heating the western plains. The cool night air washed over her, lingering long enough to make her skin prickle, and a heavenly scent filled her nostrils. Whether it was the clean, freshness of the country side or the appetizing smell of whatever Hog was cooking, she didn't take time to decipher, but pivoted on one foot and walked to the wardrobe.

She slipped the nightgown over her head, stepped into a flowing grey skirt and pulled on a loose-fitting, ruffled, white blouse. Ignoring the boots sitting near the bed, she padded across the room barefoot. As she grasped the door knob, she took a deep fortifying breath, hoped it would help in the encounter with Stephanie, and stepped out the door.

Low murmurs came from the kitchen. She eased down the staircase, stalled near the base. Jessie, standing near the breakfast bar, smiled and gestured toward the table. A small amount of tension slipped from Lila's shoulders, allowing her to lift her head as she moved forward.

Stephanie twisted in her chair, following Jessie's gaze with her own. “Oh, honey, are you feeling better?” She rose, stepped forward and grasped Lila's elbow.

Lila found an ounce of courage for the confrontation, and willed her knees to stay strong. “Yes, thank you."

Holding out a chair, Stephanie aided her onto it. “Good, sit down and have some supper. Hog cooked a wonderful venison stew."

Her knees didn't fail her, but nonetheless, she sank gratefully into the chair, and was even able to smile at Hog as he set a plate in front of her. Patting her shoulder, he settled onto the chair beside her. Willamina and Eva sat across from them with Jessie and Stephanie seated at the ends of the table. No one spoke, and Lila followed suit, chose instead to eat her meal. Before coming to the past she'd never had venison, or rabbit, or prairie chicken, but now she found they were quite tasty. Then again, Hog could probably make anything become quite tasty. He was a master chef. She lifted her gaze, glanced toward her brother-in-law. A rambling thought took hold. Hog should come back to the future with her and Skeeter, and Jessie and Kid. There he could open a restaurant, and folks were sure to travel for miles to eat his specialties.