The Rancher (47 page)

confined space of the stage and out through its windows.  Abby looked up at Gus who wiped a streak of sweat from his brow.  The stage door sprung open and an older woman, about the age her mother

would have been, stepped down off the coach and to the ground.

“Where’s the doctor in town, please?” the woman asked over her shoulder as she

reached her hand up to another female passenger on the stage.

When no one responded, the woman looked directly at Abby.   “The doctor, dear?”

Abby was taken aback by the swell ofthe second woman’s abdomen and leaptforward with an extended hand to help herdown from the metal stepping plate.

“He’s just down on the corner.  I’ll takeyou there.”   She turned to the younger

woman.  “Can you make it that far?”

The young woman nodded through strong, exaggerated breaths. She stood up straighter and smiled at Abby, her face

damp with perspiration.

“It has passed for the moment… ” she said, looking at Abby expectantly.

“Abby,” she offered her name and smiled.

The young woman pulled her tighterinto her arm.  “Abby,” she repeated with a

grin.

“Go,” Abby yelled to Mrs. Patterson who had just crossed the street from the mercantile, “tell Doc we’re comin’.”

The bustled woman opened her mouth in surprise and then closed it when the young woman let out another scream of agonizing pain and hunched forward.  Mrs.   Patterson   scuttled   down   the

boardwalk toward the doctor’s office.

The sound of an approaching horse tore Abby’s attention upward.  A single horse

emerged through the dust, at a full gallop, carrying two riders.  One of them jumped from the horse and landed running toward them.   When he reached them, Abby backed out of the way and he swept the expectant mother into his arms. Her pain seemed   to   have   subsided   again

momentarily.

“I’m sorry, my love.  I would’ve been here sooner, but my horse threw a shoe. We should never have made this trip in your condition.”

Abby turned away as if intruding on a special moment between husband and wife.

“It’s all right, Eli.” The young woman placed her hand on his face. “This is Abby,” she said as she looked over the man’s shoulder.

“Cole’s Abby?” he asked.   His eyes opened wide and his eyebrows lifted.

Abby stared at them, dumbfounded.

Cole’s Abby
, she repeated in her mind.

When another scream sounded, Abby motioned toward the doctor’s office.  “This way,” she called and ran ahead of them.

Doc Knight stood in the open doorway and ushered them inside.  He motioned for Eli to put his young wife down on a table behind   an   old   worn   curtain   and disappeared.

Eli reemerged and began to pace the small quarters of the waiting room.

Abby didn’t know what to do.   She turned to leave, but the older woman took a hold of her arm.  “Thank you, Abby.  I’m afraid my daughter has a will of her own

and refused to stay home.   I guess she comes by it naturally.” She smiled.

They sat down on the window seat, the woman’s arm still linked with hers.

“The train wasn’t bad, but I don’t think any of us realized how rough the road between Denver and Silver Falls would

be by stage.”

The look on Abby’s face must have betrayed her puzzlement.

“We couldn’t wait to meet my son’s bride.  This is Jameson,” the woman said, pointing to a rather large, familiar looking man Abby had not even seen enter the office.  “And I’m Leah,” she lifted her arm around Abby’s shoulders and squeezed.  “Cole’s mother.”

Cole fixed his eyes on the immobilestagecoach in front of the telegraph office.  No driver in sight.   He scanned theboardwalks for any sign of Abby, to noavail.  A small crowd had gathered nearthe mercantile.   He dismounted, tied Maverick to the hitching post in front ofthe sheriff’s office and crossed the streetwith a hurried step.

“And lawsy sakes,” he heard Mrs. Patterson saying, “riding on a stage in hercondition, why it’s just not—“

“Excuse me, ladies.  Have any of youseen my wife?”

The woman in the peacock hat pointedat Doc Knight’s office and Cole’s heartlurched from his chest. He swiveledaround, his legs pounding hard against thedusty street.

He nearly ran over the short, finelydressed woman who stepped around thestagecoach in his path.

“Cole, dear,” Mrs. Hutchinson reachedout and placed her hand on her forearm.  “Have you met my daughter?” she asked.  “She just arrived on this morning’s stage.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, but Abby—“

“Oh, but, I insist,” Mrs. Hutchinsoninterrupted, her eyes cool and her grip onhis arm a lot stronger than he would haveguessed her capable.

His   eyes   followed   the   woman’sextended hand.

“MaryBeth?”

She was the last person he’d expected to see in Silver Falls. The last person he wanted to see.
 
I hope it’s not permanent.

“Cole!” MaryBeth squealed.   She

reached down to gather the layers of her skirt and rushed to his side, her face upturned toward him.

Cole rolled his eyes heavenward.  When MaryBeth had come to Kansas to live with her cousins, everyone had assumed her parents were deceased. The fact Mrs. Hutchinson was her mother begged many questions, but Cole had more pressing things on his mind and the likes of MaryBeth Hutchinson would just have to wait.

He took a deep breath and attempted to remove the woman’s hand whose grip had become vice-like on his arm.   “Mrs. Hutchinson, please.”

She let go, but MaryBeth moved to block his way.

“Aren’t you glad to see me, Cole?”

MaryBeth placed her hand on his chestand jutted out her lower lip, like shealways did when she wanted something.

“Not now, MaryBeth.” Cole took a holdof her hand to remove it from his person. He didn’t want to think about the reasonsshe’d come to Silver Falls, he just wantedto get to his wife.  To make sure she wassafe.
 
Why would Abby be in the doc’soffice?

Abby stepped out onto the boardwalk. Her  eyes   flitted  between  him  and MaryBeth.  Cole could only guess whatmust be going through her mind and hethrew MaryBeth’s hand away from him asif it had burned.

He took a step toward the doctor’soffice.  “Abby,” he called out, a plea inhis voice.

When his father appeared in thedoorway behind Abby, followed by Eli,he froze. Hannah wouldn’t have made thetrip to Silver Falls so close to her time.
 
Oh, yes, she would
, a voice inside hishead insisted. That would explain thedoctor’s office, but not why Abby wasstanding there with his family.

He knew the moment his father’s gazefixed on him.   Jameson Redbourne brokeinto a huge grin and stepped off theboardwalk toward him.

“Hannah’s having her baby.  Doc sayseverything is going to be just fine.”

“Hello, Jameson.” Mrs. Hutchinson’svoice turned low and sultry.

Cole jerked his chin forward, his mouthopen, his eyebrows scrunched together.
 
What?  How?

Jameson turned to the woman, his facelosing all expression when he saw herface.   “Norah Marcusen?” he asked indisbelief.

“It’s been a long time, stranger,” she said,   moving  a   little   closer.   “It’s Hutchinson, now.”

Cole watched with trepidation as the older woman seemed to regain some of her youth when she looked at his father.

“Norah,” Jameson reached a hand up to Cole’s shoulder and squeezed, “I see you’ve met my son.”

An unkempt man stumbled onto the street toward them and started to yell. “I’m not gonna do it anymore, Norah.” He brought the large bottle in his hand up to his mouth and took a drink before

continuing. “The people in this town’ve

lost enough ‘cause a you.”

“Why, yes.” Mrs. Hutchinson cleared her throat and ignored the drunkard’s display. “He’s a lot like his father, this one.” She smiled in answer to Jameson’s

question, but appeared visibly distracted.

“Ya gonna kill me too?” The man tripped over his own foot and fell forward into Mrs. Hutchinson, spilling some of his drink down the back of her olive dress.

“How dare you, sir.”

“How dare
 
you
, madam.”

Cole’s father reached out a hand, grabbed a handful of the cheap twill material of the man’s jacket, and righted him. “Best sleep it off, man, and leave the lady alone.”

“Lady?” he snorted. “She ain’t no lady.”

Without warning his father landed apunch directly in the inebriated man’sface.

He fell backward and landed with a

thud near the wheel of the stagecoach.  The man shook his head and rubbed his jaw.  “Jes ask ‘er.” He took another swig of his rot gut. “Got told Spencer is dead and the boy too.” He pushed off the ground in attempt to stand, but his legs didn’t hold and he tumbled sideways.

“You jes get rid of us when ya don’t need us no more? Well, I’m done. Not gonna do it no more.” He pulled himself up to the stage wheel and leaned against it. “I don’t care how much land ya says ya gonna give me.”

“Shut up, Henry!” Mrs. Hutchinson spoke, though her mouth barely moved.

Her cheeks flushed. She took in a deepbreath and closed her eyes.

When her focus returned to Jameson,she laughed nervously. “Now, where werewe?  Oh, yes.  I believe you accompaniedmy daughter on the stage.”

Cole didn’t hear the rest of the

exchange with his father, but moved closer to Mr. Campbell who looked as if he may pass out at any moment. Henry? It had to be. This drunkard was Lily’s father.  Cole had only seen the man at a distance at the Sunday tea.

“Mr. Campbell?” Cole knelt down next to the inebriated man.

Red, glassy eyes turned to him, squinting in a visible attempt to focus.

“Yer Abby’s fella, ain’t ya?” Mr. Campbell propped himself up with one

arm on the ground to the side of him.

“Best be careful, son. She’ll stop at nothin’ to git what she wants.”

“And what does she want?” Cole looked up at the woman in question.  Her eyes darted anxiously between his father and Mr. Campbell.   When she caught Cole’s stare, she scurried toward them.

“Cole dear, don’t you pay him no nevermind.  He’s intoxicated and speaking

nonsense.”

“Ask that Jez-e-bel ‘bout yer friend,” Mr. Campbell’s head started to fall, “in Kans—“ he didn’t finish his last word

before he passed out cold.

Cole’s mind raced.

Alaric.  The man knew about Alaric.

He grabbed Henry Campbell by thefront of his shirt collar and pulled him up

so their noses nearly met. “Wake up.” He

shook the man.  “What about Alaric?”

“Cole.”

Only   Abby’s   voice   could   have penetrated the darkness that had overcome him.

“Cole,” she coaxed.

He closed his eyes and then opened them again.  His hands were balled into fists around the unconscious man’s shirt collar and Abby’s hands covered them, persuading him to let go. His fingers released their grasp and he pulled back, away from the drunkard.

Cole whipped his head up to look at Mrs. Hutchinson, whose face had turned stone-like. Her eyes darted from one side to the other.

“What do you know of Alaric?” Cole

demanded quietly.  He reached down to take Abby’s hand.  He needed her.  He could scarcely breathe.

A composed smile settled on the older woman’s face and she responded with calm.   “Do   you   mean   Friedrich Johansson’s grandson.  Such a shame what happened to him.”

“Mr. Campbell said to ask you about my friend. In Kansas.” Cole stood to his full height, a good foot taller than the woman in front of him. “Why would he say that?”

Mrs. Hutchinson took a step backward and nervously reached up to fiddle with the wisps of hair that had come loose from her coiffeur at the base of her neck.