Dorothy Garlock - [Colorado Wind 03] (41 page)

“That was a terrible battle. Vanessa’s father was a doctor, and he told us stories of terrible suffering.”

“My daddy was a doctor, too. He spent most of his time in a northern prison.” He accepted the meat platter and helped himself.

“I didn’t know we had a doctor here until a few days ago,” Kain said.

“I’ve only been here a couple of months. I guess you’d call it the lure of the mountains that brought me here.”

“Usually it’s the lure of gold that brings people here.”

“Yes.” The doctor laughed. “I heard before I came here that a man need only to find a stream coming down from the mountains, wade in, and pick up the nuggets. Thank you,” he said to Henry, who passed the plate of corn bread. “It isn’t what you have that makes a happy life, it’s good health. The patient I just attended, a man who seems to have everything, a big ranch, a beautiful home, servants, would probably trade places with the poorest man alive if he could be healthy again.”

“Is he someone who lives near us, doctor?” Kain asked the question in the silence that followed.

“As far as I’m concerned, there isn’t anything
near
anything else in this country, Mr. DeBolt. It’s all sky, plains and mountains. My patient was a Mr. Clayhill. His ranch is about ten miles from here. Do you know him?”

“Yes, we know him.” Kain looked at Ellie. She was watching the doctor, letting nothing at all show on her face.

“One of his cowhands came in yesterday to fetch me. I spent the night out there. Mr. Clayhill has suffered a spell of apoplexy.” The doctor helped himself to another serving of corn bread, over which he spooned a generous amount of gravy. He was obviously hungry.

“Is Mr. Clayhill paralyzed?” Ellie asked when it seemed the doctor would drop the subject.

“Are you familiar with the disease, ma’am?”

“Yes, a little. I know there are several types of apoplexy.”

Vanessa watched her aunt, as did everyone else at the table.

“He did not suffer a temporary fit. It’s much more serious. Mr. Clayhill has no voluntary movements except breathing, turning his head slightly and moving the fingers of one hand.” The doctor filled his mouth and after he swallowed, he added, “Sad. Very Sad.”

“Why do you say that? Is Mr. Clayhill dying?”

The doctor looked down the table at the pleasant looking woman who had asked the question. He glanced at Kain and saw that he also waited impatiently for an answer, as did his wife and the other young couple. Only the old man who had unhitched his horse and the other two continued to eat.

“Doctor,” Ellie said, breaking the silence. “I am Mrs. Clayhill. I have the right to know if my husband is dying.”

The soberness of Ellie’s words brought every eye to her face and drew even a deeper silence. John and the Hookers couldn’t conceal their dismay. The doctor was dumbfounded, but rallied quickly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Mr. DeBolt called you—”

“Hill. My son and I go by the name of Hill. Mr. Clayhill and I have been estranged for a long time. Nevertheless, he is my husband. Is he dying?”

“Mr. Clayhill is conscious but cannot speak. He may live a few days, or a year, or he may be gone by the time I return. A stroke patient usually dies within a few days of the attack. If he lives longer than that he has a chance of living for months or even years with good care. Sometimes the paralysis remains, at other times disappearing in the course of some months, partially or completely. It is impossible to predict what the results will be.”

“Who is taking care of him?”

“Ah . . . his daughter is there.”

“His stepdaughter,” Ellie said quickly.

“Cases are known in which the patient’s bodily functions have been entirely recovered while various impairments of the mind have persisted. The loss of speech in connection with apoplexy happens frequently if the right side of the body is paralyzed during the stroke, which is what happened in this case. It is interesting to note that Mr. Clayhill understands everything perfectly, but is unable to communicate.”

“Is his stepdaughter taking care of him?”

“He’s being cared for by a Mexican woman and a Negro servant. Miss Clayhill doesn’t seem to have the, ah . . . patience to care for the sick.” The doctor looked quickly from Ellie to Kain and back, and a dull redness covered his cheeks. “Ma’am, you may wish to consider—” He cut off what he was going to say when he saw the frosty look that came over Ellie’s face.

John moved his chair back from the table and the legs rasped loudly on the plank floor. The Hookers got quickly to their feet, moving fast for them. The tension in the room was being felt by all.

“If’n ya want, I’ll hitch up fer ya, Doc. ’N don’t ya worry none ’bout yore horse. He’ll rest in the barn ’n be fit in a day or two.”

“I’m obliged to you.”

In the silence after the back door was firmly shut, Ellie got up and brought the coffeepot to the table. She refilled the cups and when she came to Henry, she placed her hand on his shoulder, as if just wanting to touch him. He and Mary Ben sat close together on the bench and she could see her tightly holding Henry’s hand. She was a dear girl, Ellie thought, thanking God once more that she loved her son.

“Oh, dear. I forgot the custard pie. It’s John’s favorite. I’ll be sure and save some for his supper.”

Nothing more was said about Adam Clayhill until the doctor was ready to leave.

“Mrs. Clayhill—”

“Call me Mrs. Hill, doctor.”

“Do you want me to stop by again tomorrow?”

“It would be nice if you could make it at mealtime.”

“Thank you. I must say that’s the best meal I’ve had since I came to Colorado.”

“It’s my turn to thank you.”

After the doctor left, Kain and Henry went back to the job of shaping fence posts, and the women began cleaning the kitchen. Vanessa arranged the castor set in the center of the table, set the other necessaries around it and covered it with a cloth. Mary Ben silently took the large granite pan from where it hung on a nail behind the stove.

“Girls, would you mind if I went upstairs for awhile?” Ellie stood in the middle of the kitchen, her eyes focused on the window across the room.

“Of course not, Aunt Ellie. It’ll not take me and Mary Ben any time at all to wash up.”

“I need to be alone . . . to think.” She turned and looked levelly at Vanessa.

Vanessa went to her, encircled Ellie’s waist, gave her a quick, firm hug and gently nudged her toward the door. She listened to her footsteps as she went up the stairs to her room.

“What does it mean, Van? Do ya think she could still love that mean ole man?” Mary Ben poured steaming water into the dishpan from the teakettle.

“I don’t know. She loved the man she thought he was for so many years.”

“I hope she don’t love ’em. I hope she hates ’em. Then she won’t hurt when he dies. ’N I hope he does fer what he done to her ’n Henry.”

Vanessa pondered Mary Ben’s logic while she dried the dishes. Ellie had told her one time that love and hate were the two most powerful emotions. They rested side by side in a heart fighting each other. That was the reason people were able to hurt loved ones the most. Like Mary Ben, she hoped that Ellie’s love for the man she thought was Henry Hill had turned to hate. For if ever there was a man on earth who deserved Ellie’s hate it was Adam Clayhill.

*  *  *

That evening after the supper dishes were washed and John and the Hookers had gone back to the bunkhouse, Ellie made an announcement that astounded them all.

“I have decided that Henry, Mary Ben and I are going to the Clayhill ranch, and that I am going to take my place there as Mrs. Clayhill.” Her sincerity was unmistakable.

“Aunt Ellie!” Vanessa sat up straight on the sofa and looked disbelievingly at her aunt as she fiddled with the fringe on the table scarf beside her chair.

“Before anyone says anything, I want to tell you why I have decided to do this. This afternoon, I thought back over the twenty years since Henry Hill left me. I thought of how desperate I was when I knew that I was going to have Henry. I had no money. My parents had died and I had no home to go back to. I had only my sister and her husband to turn to. Thank God they welcomed me. Henry was born there, and my brother-in-law attended me.” Ellie’s soft words dropped into the silent room. “I stayed on, raised my son and Vanessa after my sister died. My husband, Henry’s father, dismissed us as if we were less than nothing. He read my letters begging for a word about the man I thought was my husband and ignored them. All these years he had been here while I wasted my life grieving for him.”

Ellie looked at each of the faces before she spoke again. Her fine eyes misted when she looked at her handsome son, sitting quietly, his young wife on a stool beside his chair.

“That man owes Henry and me twenty years of support. I mean to see that he pays it.”

Henry leaned forward anxiously. “You want us to go live with him, Ma?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I am Mrs. Clayhill. Regardless of how I feel about him, I am entitled to be the mistress of his house; you are entitled to live there. He
owes
it to us. I will see to it that he is taken care of. I am sure that I can do it as well as a Mexican woman and a servant.”

“But, Ma. He don’t want us—”

“I don’t care a fig about what
he
wants. He is flat on his back, and according to law, I am his legal wife.
I
will run his home and take care of him as I see fit. I plan to go in the morning.”

“Aunt Ellie—” Vanessa looked at Kain for help and was puzzled by the strange little half smile on his face. He picked up her hand and gave it a little squeeze. She turned back to her aunt. “What about Della Clayhill?”

“Della DeBolt,” Kain said. “She calls herself Clayhill at times.”

“How will Ellie deal with your sister, Kain?”

“She’ll not have a thing to say about it.” Ellie’s confidence seemed unshakable.

“That’s right, she won’t.” Kain’s words brought Vanessa’s head around again.

“Kain?”

“It seems like Ellie has made up her mind, sweetheart.”

“But she’s no match for Della.”

“I think she is. Besides, we’ll go with her.”

“Thank you, Kain. I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Do we pack up everything?” Henry asked.

“Absolutely. There’s no point in doing things halfway, son.”

“But I don’t like him. I don’t want to see him. He’s mean. I want to stay here with Kain.”

Mary Ben saw the distress on Ellie’s face and pulled Henry’s head down so she could whisper in his ear.

“I don’t like him, either, but yore ma knows what she’s doin’. We got to stay by her ’n help her ’n not give her no sass. If’n she can stand that old bastard, we can too.”

Henry looked down into Mary Ben’s face and his creased with one of the dazzling, beautiful smiles that slid over it when he suddenly understood something that had puzzled him.

“Mary Ben, you’re just so smart. I never even thought of that. Ma, Mary Ben says we got to stay by you and help. She says if you can stand that old bastard we can too.”

“Henry!” Mary Ben hissed and threw a hasty glance at Ellie.

“What are you all up in the air for, honey girl? That’s what you said.”

“But ya didn’t have to say that word!”

“It’s all right, Mary Ben,” Ellie said calmly. “I think your description of Mr. Clayhill was perfect.”

*  *  *

Kain blew out the light, slipped into bed, and gathered Vanessa into his arms.

“I’m worried for her.” Vanessa continued the conversation they had started while getting undressed.

“I think you’re going to be surprised, sweetheart. That woman’s got backbone and dignity to go with it.”

“But Kain, they’ll say terrible things to her.”

“You mean Della will say terrible things to her. Ellie can take it. Della doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”

“But if Mr. Clayhill dies and leaves everything to her, she will.”

“If that happens Ellie will have to go to court and get a fair share for herself and Henry. Don’t worry, sweetheart. Logan and Cooper would see to it. Now stop thinking about it and think about me.” He lifted her arm and pulled it up and around his neck.

Lying in his embrace, drugged with the sweetness, she marveled at how the whole world changed to a dazzling, beautiful place when they were fully entwined, cocooned in warmth, when he was closer than her very heart. She lifted her mouth for his kiss. With closed eyes she perceived his strong, delicate fingers stroking the quivering small of her back. Every stroke, every gesture was marked with grave reverence. He moved his other hand and clasped her head to his chest, murmuring, “My love, my love.”

His gentle fingers continued to stroke her hair. She turned her lips to his shoulder to kiss the blessed flesh. She lifted her fingers and touched his face. She could feel him smiling.

And with what surely was a greater passion than ever before, they came together in sweet, familiar, excruciating contact of heated skin, drumming pulses, and shuddering limbs.

“Clay, you and John keep an eye out for Tass.” Kain was in the barn saddling Big Red. “I don’t understand why he hasn’t made his move.”

“Killin’s one thin’, Kain. Stealin’ a woman’s somethin’ else. If’n he’s smart, ’n I think he is, he’s doin’ some careful plannin’. Ya’ve spread the word on ’em ’n folk’ll be lookin’ fer him. If’n Miss Vanessa come up missin’, folks’ll be on his trail like flies on cowshit.”

“It was Griff’s idea to spread the word he was after Vanessa. If he stays around town with that hair around his neck he’ll find himself being looked over.”

“Hit’s the same in Texas. Ya can get yoreself hung quicker botherin’ a woman ’n ya can killin’ a marshal.”

Kain swung into the saddle. “We’ll see which way the wind blows out at Clayhills. It could be that Jeb can come on back, and it could be we’ll all come on back.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout here. Me ’n John’ll hold down the fort.”

Henry and Jeb tied the traveling bags on the back of the buggy John had overhauled. He stood proudly by while the women praised his work.