Cindy Holby (20 page)

He touched a finger to her lips. “Check your bread.” He tilted his head toward the stove and grinned as she spun round to do as he asked. She opened the oven, afraid that it had burned, but found that it was fine, golden brown and crusty on the top. The stew she’d put together earlier bubbled on the stove top. Leah heard him whistle a tune as he pulled on Nate’s shirt and went out the back door.

Leah set the table for two. Dodger watched for Cade to reappear from his bed in the corner. Ashes played under the table, pouncing upon imaginary mice that hid around the chair legs. If she closed her eyes and imagined, Leah could almost see Nate sitting at the table and Banks in his high chair. The footsteps coming back down the hall didn’t belong to her dead husband, but the feeling of domestic rightness remained, even when Cade came back into the kitchen with the toolbox.

“It’s coming down pretty hard now.” He went through the tools with a frown until he found the one he wanted. “I bet there’ll be another foot or two before morning.”

“Welcome to a Colorado winter,” Leah replied. “Dinner will be a few minutes yet.” She opened some apples she’d canned in late summer and stirred them into a small pot with a touch of cinnamon and sugar.

“It seems like this is a nice town,” he said, while he took apart the pump. “People looking out for each other…” He glanced over his shoulder as he wrestled with the part that went beneath the cabinet.

“It is. The people in this town genuinely care for each other.”

He grinned and turned, holding the wrench in one hand and the pipe from the pump in the other. “So why hasn’t anyone fixed your pump?”

Leah blushed. The eyebrow he cocked in her direction seemed mischievous, almost devilish.

“No one knew it was broken,” she said quietly and turned back to the apples.

“Hmm.” He poked a long screwdriver into the pipe and held it up to the light.

“What about Jake?” He moved the lamp from the table to the sink and peered down into the pipe.

“Jake?”

“The idiot who is worried about you?” There it was again. That devilish quirk of the eyebrow. “Why did your friend feel the need to apologize for him?”

“Because he was angry with me.”

“I see.” He jerked the pipe back and forth and then stopped to put his hand on his side.

“You really shouldn’t…” Leah began.

He held up his finger to silence her and then knelt on the floor, and opened the cabinet. He removed the contents carefully. “Hold the lamp for me please.” He gingerly turned over on his back and slid inside.

Leah obliged, after navigating around his long legs. Nate’s shirt was too short, as she knew it would be, and
hiked up around the bandage which left the area above his once again sagging pants exposed. Her skirt brushed against it as she moved into place and he gave a small jerk.

“So is this Jake person sweet on you?”

“Jake Reece,” she reminded him. “From the search committee.”

“He must have had ulterior motives for finding a preacher.”

“What do you mean ulterior motives?”

“A wedding?” There was a lot of rattling and clanking going on beneath the sink.

She peered down into the space where the pipe was. “Nope. No wedding.”

“Can’t see,” he said. Leah moved her head and returned the lamp. “Why no wedding? Is he mean? Doesn’t have a job? Doesn’t like kids?”

“He owns a ranch outside of town. He raises cattle. And he’s very nice to Banks.”

“Sounds like a great prospect for marriage.”

“Except I don’t love him.”

The clanging stopped. “Can you pour some water inside the pipe?” Leah did as he said. “Aha! Found it.” The clanging started again. “Does that matter so much?”

“Does what matter?”

“Loving him.”

“Yes, it matters very much.”

“Ouch, damn it!”

“You sure do curse a lot for a preacher.” There was complete silence. Leah peered down in the hole again. He had his thumb in his mouth. “But maybe there are times when it’s called for?”

He took his thumb from his mouth and once more gave her that devilish look that looked all the more so, as his face was mostly in shadow.

“Should I have blessed my curse first?”

“What do you mean, bless it?”

“Put God’s name before it.”

“Wouldn’t that be taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“So you’re a stickler for the Commandments?”

“No.” Leah laughed. “I mean I try, but usually fail.”

“Don’t we all. Watch out.” The pipe came up through the hole. “Hold this while I reattach it.”

It wasn’t a command, or even a request. It felt more like a casual intimacy. Well, they had kissed…Leah took a firm hold on the pipe and felt tiny jerking motions as he connected it.

“I guess I could say
holy
first. Like holy hell?”

“I wouldn’t recommend saying anything like that outside these walls.”

“Would that offend?”

“Certain folks would find it offensive.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The man was peculiar. It got quiet. No noise from below the sink at all. Leah couldn’t see down the hole anymore as the pipe was attached. She let go and it didn’t wobble. She moved to look beneath the cabinet. He was very still. “Are you all right?”

“I think you’re going to have to help me up.”

“I knew you shouldn’t be doing all this stuff so soon.”

“Well it’s done now.” He stuck out his arm and Leah took it. He pulled on her for leverage until he was able to slide out from under the cabinet. He sat up and hit the top of his head on the overhang.

“Holy…” His voice trailed off and he grinned at Leah. She shook her head and went back to the stove. The apples were ready so she placed them in a bowl and put the food on the table while he connected the pipes. He dipped some water from the pot on the stove and poured it down the pipe to prime the pump before attaching the final piece, and with a few quick pumps water flowed forth.

“Thank you so much.” Leah didn’t waste any time filling a pot with water and putting it on the stove to warm for the dishes. They sat down to eat and he quickly filled his plate and started in.

Leah watched him for a moment. He didn’t say grace…

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No. Nothing is wrong.” She smiled at him. “Nothing at all.”

The fire had melted the surrounding snow. It burned so high and so hot that the ice pellets that poured from the sky dissolved long before they hit the ground. Ward felt sweat running down his neck beneath the kerchief he wore over the lower half of his face to protect him from any contagion. Seventeen bodies had gone into the fire. Men, women and a few children. It was heartbreaking, yet it had to be done. They didn’t know their names, nor could they go through their things to find out. Everything was burned. Every piece of clothing, every blanket, every tent, even the pots and pans were thrown into the fire. The smell was horrible, as if hell itself had opened up and spewed forth its rot.

Who had started the epidemic? It must have been a traveler, someone moving through the area. Had that person perished here or left, not knowing that he or she carried death with them? Ward tried to think of any strangers who’d been through recently; most stopped at the Heaven’s Gate and nearly all ate at the Devil’s Table. And now Leah had been exposed and would most likely catch it. And if she did, would anyone else in town? She’d poured his coffee this morning, right after she touched those children. Ward sighed heavily. He wasn’t ready to die. Was anyone ever ready for that? At least now they had a minister to prepare them for the afterlife.

But Leah dying…
I’ll take care of Banks…it’s the
least I can do…
Ward couldn’t help but cringe as he replayed the night when Nate died. He should have done something…he should have stopped him.

Gus Swanson rode up beside him. The man’s face was ghastly pale. Ward knew he’d puked his guts out at the sights and the smells. Gus was not hardened by war like he’d been at a young age. Gus wiped at his sweaty face with his kerchief. Jake and Jim, who’d circled the camp one last time, joined them by the fire.

“Gretchen asked the preacher if he’d come up here later and say a prayer over them,” Jim said as they watched the flames leap against the darkening sky.

“Poor bastards,” Jake said. There was nothing left for the men to do, so they turned and started the hard journey back to town.

The wind pushed against them and tiny ice pellets stung the parts of their skin that were exposed to the elements. It was a miserable ride. Jake fell in beside him when they exited Rattlesnake Canyon and the road widened enough for them to ride side by side. The only thing on Ward’s mind was staying warm beneath his heavy coat and the shot of whiskey he’d have as soon as he got back. And Lady. It was funny how he’d taken to that dog so quick.

“I reckon this is where she came from,” he said to Jake as he came up.

“Who?”

“The dog. Lady.” Jake looked at him in confusion. Ward was so used to having Jake around that he’d forgotten that he didn’t know about the arrival of his newest friend. Although she’d been right by his side when Jake stormed into Heaven’s Gate and told him about the devastation at the mining camp.

“A dog turned up on my stoop this morning,” he explained. “And the Martins had a momma cat with a bunch of kittens show up in their barn.”

“And I got the donkey,” Jake said.

“If you’re claiming it then I’ll send you the bill for its feed,” Jim called out.

Jake shook his head. “The last thing I want is a donkey. Keep it and sell it for all I care.”

“Fine with me,” Jim called back.

“So I hear you finally met the preacher,” Jake said.

“Yep.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“You’re the only person who’s talked to him. Besides Leah.”

“Gus’s wife talked to him. Said he ate half a cake.”

Jake shook his head. “What do you think?”

Ward couldn’t help but enjoy himself at Jake’s expense. “About what?”

Jake let out a heavy sigh. The truth of the matter was, Ward didn’t know what to think. The few minutes he’d spent with the man hadn’t been helpful. Ward usually knew when he was being played, but this guy…this preacher…Ward needed more time and more conversation to figure him out. Dodger seemed to like the man, which went a long way in Ward’s opinion, but still, there was something about him that just didn’t set right.

“If you’re so interested in the man why don’t you go talk to him?”

“Going to be kind of hard if he’s got the measles.”

“Well at least he and Leah will both be in the same place and we can isolate it if they do get sick.”

“Yeah,” Jake muttered. “They’re both locked up together.”

Ward laughed. “So that’s what’s got you so twisted up. You’re afraid Leah is going to go sweet on the preacher.”

“Won’t do them any good if they both wind up dead,” Jake growled.

Ward put a hand on Jake’s arm. “Look, I know you’re
worried about her. Hell, we all are. But there’s nothing we can do about it now. If she gets sick then she gets sick and we’ll do what we can for her and Banks.”

“So basically you’re saying it’s in God’s hands?”

“I reckon I am.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Ward shook his head. “Me either.”

I 
can’t believe I told her my name
. It wasn’t as if he lied. Kincaid was his middle name. Matthew Kincaid Gentry, Kincaid after his mother’s family. Cade stood in the hallway, silent, and watched Leah as she slept with the kitten curled up against her back. The wind rattled the window above her head. He hoped in his heart that she would forgive him someday.

You’re turning soft…

Dodger stood watching him with his head cocked to one side. Cade wore Timothy’s heavy overcoat. Beneath it Leah’s dead husband’s gun was strapped to his side. Leah had fallen quickly asleep after dinner and he’d made good use of the time.

“Go to sleep boy,” Cade quietly urged the dog. Dodger followed him to the back door. “Be quiet now.” Dodger made to follow him but Cade quickly latched the door in his face.

The thick wet snow made it a miserable night to be out
and that suited Cade just fine. Several inches of snow had fallen in the hours since it started, which was a good thing. It would cover his tracks. Cade walked out to the opposite side of Leah’s shed and looked back toward town. Heavy, fat flakes covered his coat in a matter of seconds. All he could see was the faint outline of the buildings and the occasional dim glow of turned-down lamps behind windows closed securely against the weather. Behind him was nothing but darkness and a swirling mass of snow. He knew there was a stream, and beyond that a heavy forest of pines that led up into the mountains that sheltered the valley.

If not for the snow he’d move that way. Lose himself in the mountains. Maybe head for California. He’d always wanted to see the ocean. This time of year it would be suicide. Especially in the shape he was in. But he couldn’t afford to get stuck here all winter. The town might not have a sheriff but he was pretty certain it had a jail. They’d lock him up for sure if they knew he was impersonating Timothy. And more than likely accuse him of his murder.