Carla Kelly (38 page)

“Paul, I can't do another day of this,” she said one morning as he came into the kitchen to help her lift the skillet for frying bacon.

“I can't leave you here, sport, because I need Colby, with Matt gone,” he reminded her, pulling her down to sit on his lap. “Getting crowded on my lap.”

She nodded, but there was no laughter in her. “I didn't want to complain,” she started, but he put a finger to her lips.

“And you haven't. How about I drive you over to the Cuddys? I'm pretty sure Allen is closer to done with his fence work than I am. Doc's worried about you too.”

Julia sighed with relief.

“I have about three more days of this, and then Matt and Charlotte will be back. Up you get. Need any help in here?”

“You have plenty to do elsewhere,” she reminded him, then kissed his cheek when he came closer. “Yes, take me to the Cuddys.”

Elinore met her with open arms and a smile for Paul. “Allen's working right here, and we can keep an eye on one little lady,” she said, after Paul's hurried explanation.

“I'm sorry to be a burden,” she told Paul as he hugged her at the Cuddy's doorway.

“No burden. You're still the toughest wife I have.” He touched his forehead to hers. “It's hard to be tough for two, though. Let Elinore spoil you for a few days. You'll do that, won't you?” he asked her friend.

“I'll start right now. Go away, Paul.”

With a smile and a wave of his hand, he left Maisie and the buckboard, and untied Chief, who had been following behind. He hesitated a long moment after swinging into the saddle.

“I'll be fine,” she said from the porch, even though her heart sank to watch him turn into a speck in the distance.

She stayed with the Cuddys three days, enjoying Elinore's company and Allen's matter-of-fact way of making her think everything was tidy and safe, when she knew it wasn't. She told them everything about James and Mr. McAtee, who for some reason now had transferred his obsession with finding James to her.

“Paul's afraid to leave me alone,” she said that first night as they sat around the kitchen table. “Since Matt and Charlotte are gone right now, and he needs every hand, Colby can't watch me.”

“You're safe here,” Allen assured her. “Maybe you should just stay here during the roundup.”

“Aren't you going?”

He shook his head. “Julia, I'm small potatoes in this particular roundup,” he told her. “I've already separated out my beeves heading to Chicago. Your husband is moving out a big herd, and so are the Clydes and some others. Stay with us.”

She was tempted, but as kind as the Cuddys were, she wanted to be home on the Double Tipi, free to cook away her misgivings and see her husband. “I'll be fine when Charlotte and Matt return, and Colby is able to stay with us,” she told them. “He wasn't too happy to miss out on the roundup, but he does what Paul says. I'll be fine.”

At the end of the third day, Colby rode back to get her. “The boss said for me to get you home, so here I am,” he told her cheerfully.

He hitched Maisie to the buckboard while Julia put the finishing touches on a cookie sheet of macaroons ready for Elinore's oven. “Just five minutes or until lightly browned,” she told Elinore, then hugged her and hurried outside, not wanting to keep Colby waiting, eager to get home.

Colby seemed uneasy, looking around as he drove faster. Puzzled, Julia looked behind and sucked in her breath to see a lone horseman following them. He kept far enough back to be unrecognizable.

“We're being followed,” she said.

“I know.” He smiled at her. “I'll get you home, Mrs. Otto.”

This is nothing to smile about
, she wanted to snap, but she pressed her lips together, resisting the almost uncontrollable urge to look behind again. “How does he know I was on the Cuddys’ ranch?” she asked.

“Beats me. Matt and Charlotte are back now, so you won't be alone.”

She nodded, determined not to look around. “And you'll be here to keep us safe,” she said, grateful for him.

“You can count on me.”

Julia decided not to say anything to Paul about Mr. McAtee's apparent knowledge of her whereabouts. He had enough on his mind, and here were Matt and Charlotte, with eyes only for each other. They had arrived from Gun Barrel with the load of furniture that had been waiting at the depot. Charlotte's delight over the simple furniture touched Julia's heart. And sure enough, her extra rug looked fine in the Malloys’ new parlor.

There was enough to do without thinking about Mr. McAtee, so she put him out of her mind, only dragging him out at night, after Paul was asleep and holding her, to wonder why on earth he followed and tormented her. She wanted to wake up Paul so she didn't have to be alone with her thoughts, but she didn't; he looked so tired.
I won't bother him about Mr. McAtee,
she told herself.

Still, she couldn't help the chill she felt when Paul announced over breakfast that they were leaving for the gather in two days.

“I heard through the usual sources—rumor—that Cookie Brown asked specifically for you. I hate to disappoint him, but I will. I've also heard that he's planning to fix any Rocky Mountain oysters a la Julia,” he told her.

“Please tell me that's not their name now,” she said with a sigh, which made Paul laugh. “I think I'd rather be remembered for warm liver salad than… than…”

“Little bull pouches?”

She put her head in her hands as everyone laughed.

Julia spent the last day counting supplies in the wagon, trying not to pout and wishing she could come along. Charlotte had baked extra bread for Cookie this time, and Julia made sure there were enough canned peaches and canned tomatoes for her men of the Double Tipi to eat when they were parched.

“Walk with me, Darling.”

She looked up from her inventory, pleased. Paul took her arm and walked with her to the river. The water was lower now; he sat her on a sun-warmed boulder and edged himself next to her.

“I want to come with you,” she said, not wanting to sound pitiful but not willing to appear stubborn, either. “I just want to be with you.”

“Was it tough at the Cuddys?” he asked, his fingers in her hair, just the way she liked it.

“They were so kind to me, and I liked just putting up my feet and knitting, but you weren't there,” she said simply. “Please let me come with you.”

“Sport, even if you weren't in the family way, I wouldn't want you on this particular roundup. We're pulling in bigger herds and older cattle, and the potential for stampede is greater. It's not safe.”

I'm not safe here
, she thought but didn't say it out loud.

“When I get back with the herd, we'll keep it here a few weeks and then drive the beeves to Cheyenne and the railroad. By then it'll be early November.”

“May I come along in November?”

He shook his head. “Nope, and for the same reason.” He took her hand and kissed it, resting it on his thigh. “I wish I could take you to Salt Lake City after the Cheyenne drive, but Dr. McKeel would rather you didn't go that far.” He kissed her. “Afraid you're stuck with me on the Double Tipi.”

“There's no one I'd rather be stuck with,” she said and kissed him back.

“Hold that thought,” he told her. “In fact, let's not let Charlotte and Matt be the only couple on the Double Tipi with something on their minds tonight.”

Julia loved him into a drowsy coma that night as the wind picked up and the curtains fluttered. As her eyes closed finally, she kissed his arm where her head rested and was rewarded with a sleepy pat.

“Keep that rawhide rope around your bedroll,” she whispered. “You can't be too careful.”

No answer. She smiled into the dark and rested her hand on her belly. If she couldn't sleep, at least their baby would keep her entertained until she could.

The ranch was so quiet after the men rode out. Even Two Bits knew they were gone. He stalked from room to room, meowing and ignoring Julia completely, as though she was responsible for their disappearance. Magnus had followed the men for a while, but late in the endless afternoon, she watched him return, his tail between his legs.

“Looks to me like someone named Mr. Otto told you to head back home in no uncertain language,” she said, smoothing his velvet ears. “In English or Shoshone?”

That first quiet after the men left never failed to unnerve her a little, but she had never felt such an urge to hitch Maisie herself, if she had to, and follow them.
You're being foolish
, she scolded herself, even as every part of her mind told her to leave. She went to the side porch, and Colby waved to her from the horse barn. And there was Charlotte in the kitchen, frowning over a cooking book and reminding Julia of herself so much that she smiled.

“Let's make something truly magnificent and gorge ourselves,” Julia told Charlotte, who looked as glum as she did. “What do you eat when you're miserable?”

“Those little bits of leftover pie crust with cinnamon and sugar baked on them,” Charlotte said promptly. “I snuck a lot of that in Kansas at Haskell when I had to live there.”

“We needn't bother with pie filling,” Julia said, and Charlotte giggled.

An hour later, they sat at the table, stuffed with pie crust and licking cinnamon and sugar off their fingers. Charlotte looked at the clock. “I should go milk the cow,” she said, shaking flecks of sugar off her apron. “It'll be dark soon.”

“Take the rest of this pie crust to Kringle and Colby,” Julia said. “If I eat any more, I'll be ashamed of myself. But I do feel better. It's a pretty good remedy for misery, Mrs. Malloy.”

Charlotte smiled at the sound of her new name. “Nice name, isn't it, Mrs. Otto?”

The house seemed to echo when Charlotte left, carrying the extra pie crust. Chiding herself for being such a ninny, Julia went upstairs, going first, as she always did now, to look at the beautiful crib Mr. Rudiger had made. She went next to her own room, going to Paul's pillow to sniff the bay rum. He told her once that he always put a dab or two on it when he left. She breathed deeply, satisfied.

When she came downstairs again, Julia went into the dining room. The cut glass knife rest on the sideboard never failed to make her smile. She thought about the other perfectly useless wedding presents inside. She put the knife rest in her apron pocket to show Charlotte.

“I'll have to ask Charlotte if she got anything useless,” she said out loud. “Where are you, Charlotte? The cow's about dry. There can't be that much milk.”

She went to the side porch and stood in the doorway, looking toward the barn. “Charlotte?” she called. Then louder, “Charlotte?”

No answer. That was strange. She looked for Colby, but he was no longer in sight.
That'll make Paul angry, if I tell him
, she thought, willing herself to remain calm. “All right, Colby. You know you're not supposed to tease me like this.”

Silence.
Heavenly Father, I'm afraid
, she thought, remembering the strong impressions she had felt earlier to hitch up Maisie and leave.
I ignored them, didn't I? Perfectly good counsel, and I ignored it.

Unsure of what to do, she went into the kitchen again, edging toward the Queen Atlantic for no reason beyond the fact that it was still hot from baking the pie dough, and she was suddenly chilled.

She could have collapsed with relief when she heard footsteps in Charlotte's old room, forgetting for a moment that Charlotte didn't live there anymore. When she remembered, her hand was already on the doorknob, but it was too late.

She stepped back in terror as the door opened, and Mr. McAtee stood there. He swayed a little, and she smelled liquor.

She took another step back, and he came closer, smiling at her in a way that she found profoundly disturbing. Her heart began to race.

“Why Mrs. Otto, we've never actually met,” he said, slurring his words. “Where are you keeping James, you naughty girl? You're so rude to keep him from me.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“James. James. James! James!” he demanded, each repetition louder until she covered her ears.

“Really, sir, you should lie down,” she quavered, trying to sound reasonable. “There's another woman on this property and a cowboy, not to mention Kringle.”

“An Injun and a cripple,” he spat out the word. “You take me for a fool?”

She shook her head, wondering wildly how to placate a half-crazy drunk. Her prayer only got as far as
Oh, Father
, so she trusted him to know her needs. She edged toward the side door.

Maybe the stern, schoolmarm approach was best. “Mr. McAtee, I'll have you know Colby Wagner is here, and he can shoot.”

He smirked at her. Before he could speak, a shot rang out from the direction of the barn.

“Charlotte!” Julia screamed and tried to reach the door.

McAtee was there first, slamming the door shut with his fist. She stopped, focusing on his face, her eyes on his. His glance wavered, but it was no victory for Julia as he leaned against the door.

“That gunshot will bring Colby,” she said. “You really should leave, Mr. McAtee.”

That peculiar intensity came into his eyes again, and he smiled, which further unnerved her. “Maybe that gunshot
was
Colby.”