Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming (9 page)

She clung to the mare’s back, biting her lip against the searing pain running through her arm.

She should have known sooner that something was wrong— should have checked the brush where the cow and calf hid. Her arrival had given the animals the chance they’d needed to escape. If only she hadn’t been daydreaming about things that couldn’t happen. This ranch wasn’t her home and never would be. She’d best get her mind on business, or the next time she wouldn’t be so lucky.

Her mare’s frantic pace slowed, and Angel reined her to a stop, swinging down beside the water. Bella snorted and nudged her, then lowered her head to the grass and started to graze.

Angel stripped off her jacket, thankful for the heavy denim that helped protect her arm. She pushed up her sleeve and gazed at the pair of angry claw marks deep in her lower arm, extending from just below her elbow almost to her wrist. Blood ran in dark rivulets and dripped from her fingertips. The throbbing would intensify if she didn’t clean it fast.

The cold water gushing out of the rock face soothed her arm. If only the water could wash away the remnants of her past the way it washed away the blood from her wound. She continued to bathe it, hoping the icy temperature would slow the bleeding. Angel took off her shirt and, using her teeth, tore a strip of cloth from the hem, then slipped the shirt back on. Three tight wraps around her arm and she tied the ends just below her elbow. She slung her tattered jacket in front of her saddle.

Time to retrieve her rifle and see if she could find that mountain lion. He’d been plenty mad that she’d interrupted his meal and he wouldn’t give up stalking the herd. Funny she’d never seen his tracks before, but this big boy might be the mystery predator bringing down calves.

Her mare had edged away from the pool. It took three attempts before Angel grasped Bella’s reins, and she gave a light jerk. “I don’t need you running away on me, girl.” She placed her foot in the stirrup, gripped the horn with her left hand, stretched up with her injured right arm, and winced. No strength remained to grasp the back of the saddle. She tucked her arm against her body and stepped up, carefully balancing as she settled onto the leather.

A short time later Angel trotted her mount to the edge of the trees and peered under the overhanging branches. The sun reflected off the barrel of her rifle resting on a bed of pine needles. She raised her head and listened. Nothing. Chances were the cat had slunk away, planning on following the mother and baby. Strange, the pair had moved away from the safety of the cattle grazing by the pool.

Bella stood quietly, ears pricked forward and body on alert, then she slowly relaxed. Angel clucked to the mare and she walked forward, hesitating every few feet and giving an occasional snort. She danced sideways at one point, lifting her head and gazing around. Angel ran her hand down the length of her neck. “It’s all right. I think he’s gone.” Her horse quieted under her touch and dropped her head. “Good girl. Let’s go.” They moved ahead until Bella stood within feet of the rifle.

Angel carefully swung from her horse, grasped the gun, and tucked it under her arm. She stood for a moment, watching and listening, but nothing moved. No sound touched her ears other than the chirp of a bird calling its mate. A slight shudder shook her body as she thought of her close call. If Bella hadn’t bolted when she had, the cat would’ve landed square on Angel’s back, knocking her from the saddle and bringing certain death. How wonderful to be alive.

She walked to her horse, slid her rifle back into its sheath, and carefully mounted, gritting her teeth. A searing pain ran from her fingers up her arm, and she leaned against her saddle horn. Blood oozed through the bandage and her head swam. She hoped Bella had been traveling this range long enough to get her back to the ranch if she passed out on the way.

A week and a half had dragged by since Angel’s arrival, and Libby’s work had only increased. On top of the extra laundry, cooking, and cleaning, James was acting peculiar. She’d called him for breakfast three days ago, and he’d not been in his room. On closer inspection, she’d sworn the bed hadn’t been slept in, but that didn’t make sense. He’d shown up ten minutes later, claiming he’d been in the barn with a new foal. No time to worry now, with the dishes needing to be done. What a blessing Smokey took care of cooking breakfast and supper.

Smokey walked into the kitchen, toting another load of dishes. “This is the last of it, Miz Waters.”

She took the proffered stack and slid them into her dishpan. “Could you get me a little more hot water?”

“Sure.” He grabbed a dishrag, slid the kettle from the top of the woodstove, and poured steaming water into the pan. “Want I should scrub the table, or dry them dishes?”

“Drying would be nice if you don’t mind. I’d enjoy the company.”

His cheeks took on a faint rosy tinge, and he smiled. “Not a’tall, ma’am.” He swiped at a large platter and set it carefully aside. “You and that new gal gettin’ along all right?”

Libby winced. The man had a way of going right to the heart of an issue. “She’s—fine. Of course, I haven’t seen much of her. She spends most of her time working.”

“Ah-huh. I hear she’s good with that long iron of hers. Brought down three wolves the first day she went out with the boss. The men are still talkin’ about it.” He scratched his chin. “Somethin’ I been meanin’ to talk to you about, Miz Waters.”

She took another dish from the stack. “Please, Smokey. I’ve lived here almost four months. Can’t you call me Libby like everyone else does?”

“Nate don’t call you Libby.”

This time it was her turn to blush. She’d noticed the deference Nate used and hadn’t thought about it until she’d heard a couple of the cowboys whispering one morning. “Fine. If you insist.” She waved a sudsy hand in the air. “What did you want to talk about?”

He cleared his throat and shot her a glance. “Your boy.”

“James? Is something wrong?”

He shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. Was hopin’ you might tell me. I caught him crawlin’ into his window one mornin’.”

“
Into
his window? Not out?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“I did, but he said it wasn’t none of my concern, so I didn’t press him. Thought you should know.”

“You didn’t tell Travis?”

“No, ma’am. He’s your son.”

Libby nodded, more grateful than she could express. “Thank you. When did this happen?” Her heartbeat increasing, she wiped her hands and placed the towel on the counter. After the incident a few mornings ago when she’d worried he might not have slept in his bed, this didn’t bode well.

“Yesterday. ‘Bout eleven o’clock at night. I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d take a stroll outside. Clear my head, know what I mean?”

She nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I was headed back inside and heard a noise round the corner near the boy’s bedroom window. He was standing on a big limb and steppin’ across to the roof. Made me think maybe he’d come out that way, too. But ‘course, I can’t be sure.”

Libby had seen James go out his window this way, just once. He’d been jubilant when they first moved here, and he’d seen the large oak tree with the limbs spreading so close to his window. It was natural a thirteen-year-old boy would pull a prank like this, but Travis had threatened to cut the limb. Her son had begged him to leave it, promising never to climb out again. Not that James could get seriously injured, as the limb was sturdy and only a foot or so above the gently sloping roof, but it wasn’t something she cared to have him do.

“Thank you, Smokey. I’ll talk to my son.”

“No problem, ma’am. Hope I haven’t stirred up too much trouble for the boy. I know youngsters like to play tricks, but I can’t imagine James was doin’ anything too terrible.”

The next few minutes passed in silence as they worked side by side. Smokey hung his towel on a peg and grinned. “Guess I’d best be thinkin’ on what to fix for supper.”

Libby groaned. “Does it ever end?”

He wagged his head. “Not with this hungry crew of grub lovers. But I’ve got a few hours. Think I’ll prop my feet up on the rail and take me a nap, if you don’t need me?”

“Have a good rest, Smokey. I’m fine.”

His boots clomped across the floor, and Libby heard the front door open and close. A few moments later the back door eased open, and Libby saw a flash of black hair. Why was Angel returning so early? Libby plucked a mug from a rack of shelves and poured it full of hot water. A cup of tea and a few minutes to rest would help put her world to rights—and maybe give her a chance to study on what James might be up to.

Angel tiptoed through the pantry and eased past the kitchen doorway, praying no one noticed.

“Angel?” Libby stepped toward the dining room. “Is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is everything all right?”

A long pause ensued and Angel stepped closer to the hallway.

Libby came around the corner and halted. “Were you going to your room?” She stared at the bloody cloth wrapped around Angel’s arm and rushed forward. “What happened?”

Angel stepped back. “I’m fine. No need to worry over a little cut.”

“A
little
cut? With that much blood? Let me look.” Libby held out her hand and waited.

Angel met Libby’s gaze, unable to quell the pain she knew must shine from her eyes.

Libby gasped. “It’s bad, isn’t it? I’m going to find Travis.”

Panic washed over Angel. “No. Please.”

“But it needs to be looked at. What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can tend to it.” She couldn’t let Travis know. He’d think her incapable of caring for herself out on the range.

Libby narrowed her eyes. “Either you let me help, or I’ll get Travis. He’s in his office. Which one will it be?”

“Fine.” Angel shrugged. “You can help.”

Libby led the way into the kitchen and slid out a chair. “Sit. You’re white and shaking.”

Angel dropped onto the hard wooden seat with a low moan and rested her head in her hand. “You don’t have to tell him about this, do you?”

“Travis? Why ever not?”

“He’ll fire me if he knows I got attacked by a mountain lion.”

Libby gasped and placed her hand over her heart. “What in the world? How can your job be more important than your safety?” She headed across the room and plucked a pot of salve from a shelf above the wash basin. “A mountain lion? How bad is it?”

“He was in a tree watching a cow and her calf, and I spoiled his dinner.” Angel gave a guttural laugh. “Guess he figured I’d make a good substitute when the pair ran away, but Bella had other ideas.” She looked up at Libby. “His claws raked my arm, that’s all.”

Libby gently touched the rough bandage. “We need to get this off.” She hurried to the pantry and came back with a large, clean linen square. A quick pull at a drawer and she plucked out a pair of shears and cut the cloth in half. Folding one section into a pad, she smeared salve over the center and laid it aside. “I heated water for tea. It should still be warm enough to clean the wound.”

Angel sat silently as Libby unwrapped her arm, wincing as the strip of cloth pulled away. The raw, double gash started to bleed again, and Libby gasped. “I think we need to get Doc Simmons out here, or take you to town. I don’t know much about flesh wounds, but your arm may need stitches and could get infected.”

Angel shook her head. No way would she visit a doctor and miss more work. “Just put something on it and wrap it for me. I’ll be fine.”

“Honestly, Angel, I think we need to have it looked at.”

“Have what looked at?” Travis’s voice filled the room and Angel wilted against the table, releasing a quiet moan.

Travis walked into the kitchen, wondering at the tense atmosphere hanging over the two women. Angel sat at the table with a cloth draped over her arm and Libby hovered nearby. “What’s going on?” He peered more closely at Angel’s arm and stopped. A hint of red showed in the center of the cloth. He took a long stride, drawing close to the two women. “Libby?”

His sister didn’t reply, just looked at the top of Angel’s bowed head. His new employee slowly peeled off the white linen. “It’s a cut. Nothing to worry over.” Two gashes ran along the inside of her arm and blood trickled from the wound.

He stepped closer when a loud rap at the door drew him up short. Now what? The men shouldn’t be back from gathering the cattle yet. Travis spun around, frustrated at the interruption. How in the world had Angel gotten those cuts? “Libby. Please let me know if the doc needs to see her.” The inflamed skin and jagged edges looked nasty, and he wanted to get to the bottom of this. He stalked to the door and yanked it open.

A tall, wiry man with his hat tucked under his arm stood outside. His sandy blond hair lay neatly against his head, and a matching mustache touched his top lip. “Howdy, Travis. Sorry to bother you.”

“Sheriff Jensen. What brings you out?” Travis swung the door wide. “Come in and have a cup of coffee.” He clenched his jaws. Right now he wanted to rush back and discover how Angel had been injured, but it was a rare event for the sheriff to visit. Libby had done volunteer nursing in San Francisco and she could tend to the wound—but that didn’t stop the unease building in his chest.

“I’m here on business. I need to speak to your sister.”

“What’s the problem?”

Footsteps sounded on the floor of the sitting room, and Libby appeared in the open doorway. “I’ve finished wrapping Angel’s arm…” She looked from Travis to the sheriff. “I’m sorry, gentlemen.”

Sheriff Jensen took a step forward. “Mrs. Waters, I rode out to speak to you about your son.”

Libby gasped, and her face blanched. “James? What’s happened?” She gripped Travis’s arm. “I thought he was riding with the men.”

The sheriff held up his hand. “Whoa there, ma’am. Sorry I spooked you. James is fine, as far as I know.”

“He’s with Nate.” Travis gestured toward a high-backed chair. “Why don’t you have a seat?” He turned to Libby. “Angel’s all right?”

She nodded. “I did the best I could for now, but I think a doctor needs to look at it.”

Travis waited till the sheriff was seated and Libby sank onto a flowered divan, then Travis took his place in an upholstered chair. “Is my nephew in trouble?”

“I’m not sure, but I suspect he might be.” Sheriff Jensen stroked his mustache. “I don’t have any proof, just hearsay. I hadn’t planned on coming out here, but one of the shopkeepers urged me to.”

Libby gripped her hands in her lap. “I don’t understand.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I’d best start at the beginning.” He sat up straight and cleared his throat. “There’s been a group of three or four boys getting into mischief in town. They started innocent enough, just playing silly pranks. But they got bolder and tipped over a privy on the edge of town, back of the boardinghouse.”

Travis pursed his lips and snorted. “That’s not anything I approve of, but it’s certainly not criminal. And I’m guessing more than one man in this town did something similar at that age.”