Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming (10 page)

The sheriff nodded. “I agree, if the pranks had stopped there.”

“Ah-huh.” Travis leaned back, dreading what might come. He glanced at Libby, and a prickle of sympathy struck him. She looked so alone. Was she wishing for her husband to be sitting beside her, instead of lying in a cold grave in California? He shifted uncomfortably. Part of him wanted to slip over to the divan and place his arm around her shoulders and draw her close. Let her know she had his support. But maybe she’d push him away. He chanced another look and the stark fear showing in her face decided the matter for him. Travis wasn’t his cold-hearted father. He rose from his chair and crossed to the sofa in two strides, sinking down beside his sister.

Libby turned wide eyes to his. “Travis?” The word came out in a whisper.

“I’m here, Sis.” He gathered her small hand in his own and squeezed. She sighed and melted against him. “Go on, Sheriff.”

“One of the townspeople was on his way home three nights ago and saw a couple of boys hanging around the back door of Copper’s General Store. He thought he recognized your boy, Mrs. Waters.”

Libby shook her head. “James wouldn’t have gone into town. Why, it’s almost a thirty-minute ride from the ranch.”

The sheriff shrugged. “A healthy boy could easily walk there and back.”

Travis nodded. “He could. But that’s not a crime.” He shot a glance at Libby. “Although I’m sure Libby would agree that if James were in town, he’d hear about it from her.”

“And if they’d only been at the back door, I wouldn’t be here today. Mr. Copper found damage inside his store, not far from the door, and there are a few things missing. Of course we can’t be sure the boys did it, but it looks mighty suspicious.”

Libby withdrew her hand from Travis’s and frowned. “We’ve only lived here four months. Does this person who thought he saw James
know
my son well enough to identify him? In the dark?”

“I asked him that myself. The description he gave could have fit two or three boys your son’s age, but it’s my job to advise the parents, regardless. I’m stopping at all three homes.”

Travis pushed himself up from the couch. “Thank you, Sheriff. We’re beholden to you. I can’t imagine my nephew would’ve walked to town. It’s not like he’s made friends with other boys in the area, having lived here such a short time, but we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Sheriff Jensen picked up his hat from the sofa, rose, and extended his hand. “Thank you.” His grip was firm as he shook Travis’s hand. “I’m sorry to worry you, Mrs. Waters. It’s very possible your boy isn’t involved, but I thought you should know.”

Libby stayed seated and made an effort to smile. “I understand. I appreciate you coming, and I agree with Travis. We’ll talk to James.”

A few minutes later Travis returned to the sitting room from seeing the sheriff out. Libby sat with her face in her hands. “Libby? You all right?” He sank onto the seat beside her and touched her shoulder.

A stifled sob came from between her fingers. “I’m not sure.” She raised tearstained eyes. “Do you think James is involved?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like the boy, is it? Did you have trouble in San Francisco?”

Libby drew back but didn’t reply.

“Libby?” Travis gripped her shoulders. “Did James have something similar happen?”

She shook her head. “Maybe. Just a little. But nothing like this.”

“What, exactly, does that mean?”

“Well—“ Libby fidgeted on the divan. “He had some friends his father and I didn’t approve of. That’s one reason—“ She peeked at Travis and then dropped her gaze back to her hands twisting in her lap. “I decided to come here, instead of moving back with Papa. Since Papa lives in a city…”

“You thought there’d be less chance he’d get in trouble here.”

“Yes.”

Travis touched her trembling hands. “I’m not angry. We don’t know for sure that James went to town.”

She leaned against him and a sob slipped out. “You won’t send us away?”

Travis drew her within the circle of his arm. “Of course not. You’re my family. We’ll talk to James together, if you’d like.”

Libby nodded and sniffed. “Thank you, Travis. I’d like that.”

Travis squeezed her shoulders and moved away, then froze. “We forgot about Angel! She might need a doctor.” He jumped up and raced from the room, vaguely aware of Libby following.

They pulled up short and stared. Only a pan of bloody water and rags sat on the table. Angel was gone.

Angel slipped into her room, twisted the doorknob, and released it gently, her heart racing at what she’d just heard. She’d sat at the table for several minutes after Travis and Libby left the room—long enough to know who’d arrived. She’d nearly bolted, fearing the sheriff had come to take her away, but she’d forced herself to stay put. No one knew she’d ridden in that last cattle raid. She’d eased out of her chair and tiptoed to the edge of the door leading into the living room. It hadn’t taken long to discover the man had come for another reason entirely.

She placed her hand over the bandage and lowered herself onto the edge of her bed. Libby had done a fine job of dressing it. She’d found some charcoal powder to draw out the poison and sprinkled it over the wounds before applying the bandage covered with salve.

Shame washed over her. She’d judged Libby, thinking her a spoiled woman who’d never known hardship, and here her boy had caused her grief for months—maybe even longer. Angel slipped away from the door when Libby started to cry, her sobs piercing the hard armor wrapped around Angel’s heart.

But she couldn’t let her guard down. If only she could find a place where she truly fit in, rather than just being tolerated. Travis kept her here out of desperation, not because he cared about her as a person. A rush of blood warmed her cheeks as the implication hit her. Of course he wouldn’t care about her personally, and she didn’t want that— did she? She tried to quench the longing that burned in her chest. It would be nice if Travis cared—and Libby too—but she wouldn’t set herself up for disappointment by expecting that.

A soft knock sounded on her door, and she pushed to her feet. Libby probably wanted to make sure her arm was all right. The throbbing hadn’t eased, and a terrible burning had started, running from the wound up past her elbow. She bit her lip and raised her chin. No need to be a baby. She’d been hurt before and hadn’t complained.

She swung open her door and stood rooted to the spot. Travis had his hand raised, ready to knock again. “Travis. Is everything all right?”

He took a step back. “That’s what I want to know. Are you up to talking?”

“Certainly.” Angel drew the door shut behind her. Her bandaged arm brushed the door frame, and she winced.

Travis drew in a sharp breath. “You’re in pain. I’ll send for the doctor.”

“No. I’m fine.” She turned away and marched down the short hall to the dining room and slid out a chair. “Is that what you wanted to talk about? It’s only a scratch.”

His brow furrowed. “That’s not what it looked like to me. Libby’s afraid it might require stitches.”

“She did a good job cleaning it. There’s no need for worry.”

Travis gripped the back of a chair. “You’re my employee, so I need to concern myself. An injury like this could lay you up for days.”

Angel’s stomach clenched in a knot and she took a step back. Here she’d been hoping for a place where she’d fit, and Travis made it clear he only cared about her doing her job. Fine. She’d do it whether it pained her or not. “It won’t. I’ll be back to work tomorrow. Don’t worry; you’ll get your money’s worth.”

His mouth fell open and he snapped it shut, then started to open it again.

Someone pounded on the door.

Travis glared toward the front of the house and spun away from her. “What now?” He stalked out of the room.

“Boss. You’d better get out here and Miss Angel too, if she’s inside.” Wren’s steely voice sent Angel racing out of the room. She hit the entryway and skidded to a stop in time to see James bolt in behind the cowboy.

The young man’s hands shook. “Miss Angel, your horse— she’s sick or something. She’s thrashing all over.”

Wren gripped the boy’s arm and pushed him back. “I think it’s colic. Looks bad.”

Angel emitted a strangled cry and leapt through the opening and across the porch. José had given her the filly when Bella was born. He suggested the name, explaining it meant “my beautiful one” in her mother’s language. Angel had taken one look at the long-legged foal and agreed. The baby had bonded with her quickly over the next few days. Bella couldn’t die—she was Angel’s last link to her family.

Travis raced around the corner of the barn in time to see Angel draw up near the corral. Colic could kill a horse. A deep groaning met his ears before he spotted Bella lying on her side in the dirt. The mare attempted to lunge to her feet but fell back with another loud groan. She lay panting for a moment, then jerked all four legs in the air and flopped over to the other side, repeating the movement several times. Angel leaned over the rail and spoke quietly to the horse, avoiding the flailing hooves.

Dismay hit Travis hard. Why had he been so harsh, allowing her to think he only cared about what she could do for him? He’d never been much good with women. Not with his mother in the past, or his sister—and apparently that carried over to female employees. He felt sick with worry about Angel’s horse, but even more so about the injury she’d shrugged off. Infection could set in and cause gangrene. His throat ached at the thought of Angel suffering. When they got past this crisis, he’d talk to her again. Only this time he’d convince her she mattered to him as a person, not merely a hired hand.

Wren and James came from the barn, Wren gripping a rope halter. “You’ll need to get her up and walking.”

“I know.” She took the halter and slipped it over her arm, tossing the long length of rope over her shoulder. “I’ll wait till she’s done thrashing so I don’t get kicked.”

James stopped beside her. “Why’s she groaning? What’s wrong with her?”

Angel leaned on the fence. “You ever have a bad bellyache? One that hurts so much you want to curl up and die?”

He nodded, his face solemn. “Yeah. One time when I was little Ma had to call the doctor, I was screaming so loud.”

“That’s how Bella feels—only she can’t scream, she can only groan.”

“Is she gonna die?”

Bella lay quiet, breathing hard.

“I sure hope not, but it’s possible.” Angel slipped between the wooden bars. “I’ll get her on her feet and walk her for the next few hours. Rolling on the ground can twist her gut into a knot and then she’d die for sure.”

“Can I help?” The boy hooked a leg over the rail, but Travis drew him back.

“Wait, son. You might spook her. She knows Angel, but she doesn’t know us.” Travis understood how the boy felt—he desperately wanted to lend a hand, as well. But the struggling mare would panic if too many strangers came close while she fought this pain. He’d never lost a horse to colic but had heard horrible stories about their suffering. He said a silent prayer for the animal, knowing Bella’s future lay in God’s capable and caring hands.

Angel inched her way closer. Bella lay on her side. A quick flick of her wrist and Angel slipped the halter over Bella’s nose, securing it behind her ears. “You’re going to be all right. Easy there.” She knelt beside the mare’s head, stroked the length of her neck, then gently rubbed behind her ears. “I need you to get up, Bella.” She stood and took a step back, tightening the rope attached to the halter.

Travis gripped the rail and leaned forward. “Want any help?”

“No. If she can stand, she’ll do it when I ask.” Angel clucked to the horse and spoke again, too low for Travis to make out her words.

Wren moved close to Travis. “Since she don’t want any help, I’m goin’ to find Smokey. He’s a wizard with sick horses.”

“Good idea. Go.” Travis kept his attention pinned on the girl as Wren’s rapid footfalls grew fainter.

Travis clenched his jaw. He’d seen how attached she was to the mare. He’d never had a special relationship with an animal before. He’d always wanted a dog while growing up, but his father wouldn’t allow it.

Maybe he’d see if Angel would accept another horse as a replacement, if anything happened to this one. She’d need a mount if she continued her work here. Shock hit him at the way his thoughts had turned. Did everything have to revolve around work? When had the feelings of others become less important? Was it so all-fired essential that he become a success and prove his worth to his father?

The sound of boots hitting the ground and loud puffing heralded the approach of Smokey. The stout man lumbered to a stop. “Wren says it’s colic.”

“From what we can tell. Bella’s been thrashing and Angel’s trying to get her on her feet.”

Smokey leaned over and wiggled his way between the wood rails, grunting as he did so. “Need to quit cookin’ so many blamed flapjacks.” He crawled out and stood, brushing off his shirtfront. A few cautious steps brought him to Angel’s side. “Little lady, I want you to pull on her head, and I’m going to stand by her hip. When you start heavin’, I’ll try to help her the rest of the way.”

Angel nodded and waited for Smokey to step toward Bella’s hindquarters. “All right, here goes.” She gave the rope a long, steady pull. “Come on, Bella. You can do it, girl.”

The mare extended her front hooves and struggled to rise, then fell back with a groan. Smokey shook his head. “Travis. Miss Angel’s hurtin’ too bad to pull hard. I need your help.” He shot Angel a smile. “She’ll make it this time, Miss Angel. We’ll try ‘er again.”

Travis leapt over the bars, kicking himself as he thudded across the corral. In his worry over the mare getting spooked, he’d completely forgotten Angel’s injury. He grabbed hold of the rope and Angel stepped to the side, staying close to Bella’s neck and crooning encouragement.

Once again the mare fought to get on her feet. She pushed with her front hooves, and her back legs scrambled to get her body off the ground. Smokey stepped in as the mare half stood, half sat, and placed his bulk against her hip. As Travis tugged, Smokey wrapped his arms around the mare’s rump and lifted. Bella gave one last heave and stood unsteadily, her sweaty body trembling with the effort. “Get her movin’, Boss. Don’t let her go down again.” Smokey placed his open palm against her flank and urged her forward. “Got to keep walkin’ her. Want me to do it?”

Angel turned anxious eyes toward the older man. “No. I need to.” She reached for the lead rope and clucked to the horse.

“Could be hours. Got to get her gut working again—need her to pass whatever’s causin’ the problem.” He turned away. “Boss?”

“Yes, Smokey. What do you need?”

“Send the boy in to get some of that oil in the kitchen. We need to get it into this mare to lubricate her insides.”

Travis jogged over to James. “Run quick and bring the cod-liver oil.”

“Yes, sir!” The boy bolted from the corral without looking back.

Angel walked beside her horse, keeping one hand on the rope and stroking the mare’s neck with the other. “Do you think she’ll make it, Smokey?”

“Have to wait and see. Any idea what she got into?”

“No. I fed her this morning and turned her out. I gave her the normal amount of grain and a couple of carrots, but that’s all.”

Bella jerked at the rope and twisted her neck, nipping at her flank and snorting. Angel patted the satiny coat. “I know it hurts, girl, but you’ve got to keep walking.” She led the mare in a wide circle around the inside of the fence. Her arm ached and her head hurt, but she wasn’t about to give up on the last thing on earth that she loved. She’d stay up all night if she had to. Bella was not going to die.